The Privateersman

“Read it,” said Mr Trevannion, “and give me your opinion.”

I did so: Captain Irving stated that he had pushed the two vessels up a small river on the coast, which he had not known of before, and had fallen in with a black ruler, who had never yet treated with the English; but only with the Spaniards, for slaves. That his English commodities were quite new to the natives, and that, in consequence, he had made a most fortunate traffic with them, and had loaded a vessel with ivory, wax, and gold-dust to the amount of 1000 pounds, and that he had sent the Chester Lass, remaining himself to continue the barter before it was known to the other ships on the coast, which it would soon be. He continued, that he had not sufficient of the articles which were most valued by the natives, and requested that Mr Trevannion would immediately despatch another vessel with various goods enumerated, and that then he should be able to fill his own vessel as well as the one that he had despatched home; that the river was in such a latitude, and the mouth difficult to discover; that he sent a little sketch of the coast, which would facilitate the discovery—but that no time was to be lost, as the sickly season was coming on, and it was very unhealthy at that time.

As I folded up the letter, Mr Trevannion said:

“Now, here is an invoice of the whole cargo sent home by the Chester Lass. I reckon it worth about 7000 pounds.”

I looked over the invoice, and agreed with Mr Trevannion that it was well worth that, if not more.

“This is most important, you will acknowledge, Musgrave,” said Mr Trevannion; “but before I go any further, I trust that, now the only difficulty is got over, you will not refuse to be my partner; the only difference I intend to make, is, that I now offer you one-fourth instead of one-eighth. Silence gives consent,” continued Mr Trevannion, as I did not immediately reply.

“I was so astonished at your munificent offer, Sir, that I could not well speak.”

“Then it’s agreed; so say no more about it,” said Mr Trevannion, taking me by the hand, and pressing it warmly—“and now to business. My idea is, to send out the Sparrow-Hawk, being so fast a sailer. Of course, as a privateer, she has done her work; and as the government wish the complement of the Arrow to be increased, I think we cannot do better than to fill her up with some of the Sparrow-Hawk’s men, leaving about twenty-five on board of her, and sending her out as soon as possible to the coast, with the articles which Captain Irving requests.”

“I agree with you, Sir, that it will be the best plan.”

“But whom to send is the difficulty,” said Mr Trevannion. “Captain Paul, of the Chester Lass, is very ill, and not likely to be out of bed for some time; and even if he were well, I have no opinion of him in an affair of this moment. If, as Captain Irving says, he can fill the Amy, her cargo will be worth three times that of the Chester Lass; but, of course, the destination of the Sparrow-Hawk must be a secret, and I do not know whom to intrust her to. We require some one in whom we can put confidence.”

“I agree with you, Sir,” replied I; “and, if you have no objection, I think that the best plan will be for me to go myself; I shall be back again in ten weeks at the furthest.”

“Well, as you will now have a strong interest in it, I really think so too. In fact, I don’t know whom else we can trust.”

“I agree with you, Sir, and I will go myself, and I think the sooner the better; but I do not know whether we can obtain all the goods requisite immediately.”

“We can have them in five or six days,” replied Mr Trevannion; “I sent Humphrey out to make inquiry.”

“At all events, I must look to them myself; and there are many other things to manage, so I had better wish you a good morning now, Mr Trevannion, and in the evening I will call again, and let you know what I have done.”

“Do so,” said he, and I then took my leave.

I certainly was very much astonished as well as much pleased at Mr Trevannion’s liberality relative to the partnership, and I could now look forward to competency in a few years at the furthest. Certainly, if Mr Trevannion had been hasty in his conduct towards me he had made most noble reparation. I first returned to the lodgings and told Captain Levee and Philip what had passed; they immediately proposed that we should all go together on board the Sparrow-Hawk, that I might make my arrangements, and that they might persuade some of the men to join the Arrow. I first picked out the men I wished to sail with me; and then they talked over the rest, who that evening went on shore for their wages, and the next morning joined the Arrow, as Captain Levee was anxious to get round to the Nore. The day after the men joined, the Arrow sailed, which I was not sorry for, as it left me more at leisure to expedite my own affairs. Philip promised to be my correspondent, and I bade them both farewell with regret. I called in the evening, as I had promised, upon Mr Trevannion, and he then gave me the deed of partnership, signed and dated the day when he first made the offer, and we had quarrelled; but I did not see Miss Trevannion; much to my regret, her father said that she was ailing. The business I had to transact, and fitting out the Sparrow-Hawk, so completely occupied me, that it was now three days that I had been at Liverpool without having seen her, and I was much annoyed at it, as I had called every day. My feelings towards her were now stronger than before. She was never out of my thoughts, and I hardly know how it was that I transacted business as I did. This evening I was determined, if possible, that I would see her, and find out why she avoided me, as it appeared to me that she did. When I called, therefore, I did not ask to see her father, but told Humphrey to find out where Miss Trevannion was, and say that I requested to speak with her. Humphrey returned, and said that she was in the sitting-room, to which I instantly repaired.

“I am fearful that I have given you some unintentional cause of displeasure, Miss Trevannion,” said I, as I entered, “for you have appeared to avoid me since my return.”

“Indeed, Mr Musgrave, I have not,” replied she; “I was most anxious to see you, and have thought it very unpolite, I may add, unkind, on your part not to have come to me.”

“I have been in the house every day, and sometimes twice a day, with your father, Miss Trevannion, and have never met you. Once I inquired for you, and your father told me you were unwell, whereas Humphrey had but five minutes before told me that you were well and in good spirits.”

“Humphrey told the truth, and so did my father. I was in good health and spirits, and in five minutes afterwards I was ill and unhappy.”

“I trust I was no party to it, Miss Trevannion.”

“You were a party to it, but not the great offender, who was my father. He had told me that upon your return he had installed you as his partner, and had done you the justice you had deserved; and then he told me that you were going out to the coast of Africa in the Sparrow-Hawk.”

“It is very true, Miss Trevannion; but where is the offence?”

“The offence is this: my father no sooner does you justice than he wants more ivory and gold-dust, having more than enough already; but I told him it was as bad as privateering, for in either case he sends people out to sacrifice their lives, that he may gain more money. I have no patience with this foolish pursuit of wealth.”

“After all your father’s kindness to me, Miss Trevannion, I could do no less than accept the offer.”

“You would have been more wise and more just to yourself to have refused it, Mr Musgrave. I read the letters to my father when they arrived, and you know what Captain Irving says about the unhealthiness of the climate. You have been my father’s best friend, and he should not have treated you thus.”

“I never did value life, Miss Trevannion; but really the kind interest you have expressed on this occasion makes me feel as if my poor life was of some value. To one who has been such a football of fortune as I have been, and who has hardly known a kind feeling towards him ever expressed, it is a gratification that I really appreciate, and, coming from one whom I respect and esteem more than any other person in the world, it quite overpowers me. Indeed, Miss Trevannion, I am truly grateful.”

I was correct when I said that it overpowered me, for it did completely, and I was so oppressed by my feelings, that I reeled to a chair, and covered up my face with my hands. What would I have given to have dared to state what I felt!

“You are ill, Mr Musgrave,” said Miss Trevannion, coming to me. “Can I offer you anything?”

I made no reply; I could not speak.

“Mr Musgrave,” said Miss Trevannion, taking my hand, “you frighten me. What is the matter? Shall I call Humphrey?”

I felt her hand tremble in mine, and, uncertain what to think, I came to the resolution to make the avowal.

“Miss Trevannion,” said I, after a pause, and rising from my chair, “I feel that this internal conflict is too great for me, and if it last it must kill me. I give you my honour that I have for months tried everything in my power to curb my desires and to persuade myself of my folly and rash ambition, but I cannot do so any longer. It were better that I knew my fate at once, even if my sentence should be my death. You will ridicule my folly, be surprised at my presumption, and, in all probability, spurn me for the avowal, but make it I must. Miss Trevannion, I have dared—to love you; I have but one excuse to offer, which is, that I have been more than a year in your company, and it is impossible for any one not to love one so pure, so beautiful, and so good. I would have postponed this avowal till I was able to resume my position in society, by the means which industry might have afforded me; but my departure upon this business, and the kind of presentiment which I have, that I may not see you again, has forced it from me. In a few days I leave you—be gentle with me for my involuntary offence—pity me while you condemn, and I will return no more.”

Miss Trevannion did not reply; she breathed quick, and stood motionless. I gathered courage; I looked in her face, there was no displeasure—I approached her, she was half fainting, and put her hand upon my shoulder to steady herself. I put my arm round her waist, and led her to the sofa, and knelt at her feet, watching every change in her beautiful countenance. I took her hand and pressed it to my lips; by degrees I became more bold, and got by her side, and pressed her to my heart. She burst into tears, and wept with her head on my bosom.

“Do not be angry with me,” said I, after a time.

“Do I appear as if I was angry with you?” replied she, raising her head.

“Oh, no; but I cannot believe my happiness to be real. It must be a dream.”

“What is life but a dream?” replied she mournfully. “Oh, the coast of Africa! How I dread it!”

And so I confess did I from that moment; I had a presentiment, as I had told her, that something would go wrong, and I could not get over the feeling.

I shall no longer dwell upon what took place on that delightful evening, Madam; suffice to say, that Miss Trevannion and I were mutually pledged, and, after an exchange of thought and feeling, we parted, and when we did part I pressed those dear lips to mine. I went home reeling with excitement, and hastened to bed, that I might have unrestrained freedom of thought. I enacted the scene of the evening over and over again; recalled each motion, each look, every word which had passed, and, defying fever and presentiment of evil, imagined also our happy meeting to part no more. It was long before I could compose myself to sleep, and when I did, I need not say who it was that occupied my dreams. I called as soon as I could venture so to do on the following day, and had a long interview with my dear Amy. Before I went up to her father, I tried to soothe her anxiety upon my approaching voyage, and to persuade her that there was little or no danger to be apprehended in so short a stay. Willingly would I have given it up, but Mr Trevannion had so set his mind upon it, and I had, by my consent, rendered it so impossible for him to find a substitute in time, that I could not do so, and I persuaded Miss Trevannion that I was right in acting to my promise line question that came forward was, whether we should make known our engagement to her father at once, and this was decided in the negative. Much as he liked me, he was not yet prepared to receive me so suddenly as a son-in-law, and Amy was of opinion that the communication had better be postponed. To this, of course, I gave a willing assent. I was satisfied with the knowledge of her affection, which I felt would never change. As I was talking with her father, after my interview with Amy, he said:

“Really, Elrington, or Musgrave, I hardly know which to call you.”

“Musgrave is my real name, Sir,” replied I.

“Musgrave—Musgrave—where did I know a Musgrave?”

“We are from the north,” replied I.

“Well,” said he, “I was going to say, that I really wish I could find some one else to take your place in this voyage, for I do not much like your going.”

“Do, my dear father,” said Miss Trevannion, who was standing by him.

“Hey! Miss Amy, what have you to do with it, I should like to know, and how can it concern you whether Mr Musgrave goes or not?”

“I said so, Sir, because I know how you will feel his loss for so long a period. You know how you did feel his loss before, and I do not wish to see you working so hard, as you will have to do it without his assistance.”

“Well, that’s kindly thought, Amy, at all events; but still I fear that Mr Musgrave must go, and I must work by myself till he comes back; so it’s no use saying any more about it.”