The Privateer's-Man, One hundred Years Ago

“And I have been ill twenty-one days. Why we must be near home?”

“We expect to make the land in a few days, Sir,” replied Ingram.

“Thank Heaven for all its mercies,” said I. “I never expected to see old England again. But what a bad smell there is. What can it be?”

“I suppose it is the bilge-water, Sir,” replied Ingram. “People who are ill and weak always are annoyed by it; but I think, Sir, if you would take a little gruel, and then go to sleep again, it would be better.”

“Well, I fear I am not very strong, and talking so much has done me no good. I think I could take a little gruel.”

“Then, Sir, I’ll go and get some made, and be back very soon.”

“Do, Ingram, and tell Mr. Olivarez, the second mate, that I would speak to him.”

“Yes, I will,” replied the man, and he left the state-room.

I waited some time listening for the arrival of the second mate, and then I thought that I heard odd noises in the hold before the bulk-head of the state-room in which I was lying, but I was still very weak, and my head swam. After a time Ingram came down with the gruel, into which he put some sugar and a spoonful of rum, to flavour it, as he said. He offered it to me, and I drank it all, for I had an appetite; but whether it was that I was very weak, or the rum he put in was more than he said, it is certain that I had hardly given him back the basin than I felt so drowsy that I turned away from him, and was soon again in forgetfulness.

This Ingram was a young man who had been apprenticed to an apothecary, and had taken to the sea. He was well educated, and a very merry fellow, and I had chosen him as one who could attend upon me in the cabin, and at the same time be otherwise useful if required, as he was a very good seaman, and very active. When I awoke again I felt convinced that I must have slept through the night, as it was broad daylight, as before, but Ingram was not by my bed-side. There was no bell in the state-room, and I was obliged to await his coming. I felt much stronger than the day before, and now proposed getting out of bed as soon as Ingram should come down into the cabin. I now remembered that the second mate had not come down to me, and heard noises and murmurings in the hold as I had the day previous, which surprised me, and I became more anxious for the return of Ingram. At last he came, and I told him that I had been awake more than an hour.

“How do you feel yourself, Sir?” said he.

“Quite strong. I should like to get up and dress. Perhaps I may be able to get on deck for a quarter of an hour.”

“I think,” replied he, “that you had better wait, and hear what I have to tell you, Sir. I would not tell you yesterday, because I thought it would be too much for you; but as I see you are really better to-day, I must say that I have strange things to tell you.”

“Indeed!” cried I, with surprise. “Strange things. By the bye, why did not Olivarez come to me yesterday?”

“I will explain all to you, Sir, if you will lie down and listen to what I have to say, and take the news quietly.”

“Very well, Ingram, I will do so. Now pray go on.”

“You were brought on board in a state of fever and insensibility by the captain of the slaver. He said, as he lifted you over the side, that you were a dead man. We all thought the same, and you were taken down into the cabin with that persuasion on the part of the whole crew. Your delirium and fever increased, and every hour it was expected that you would give up the ghost. Now, Sir, two days afterwards the slaver sailed with his cargo, and we were left alone in the river. Olivarez, who of course commanded, talked to the men. He said that you were as good as dead already, and that he thought that this was a fair opportunity for their making money. He proposed that the ivory still on shore should be changed for slaves, which he said the negroes would gladly do, and that we should run with our cargo to the Brazils. He said that it was useless our remaining in the river, as we should all lose our lives in the same way that you had done, and that he thought, as commanding the schooner, he knew what would best please the owner, who had long employed vessels in the slave-trade, and would not be sorry to find that we had run a cargo, and would reward them all liberally. That this would be an excuse to leave the river immediately, whereas otherwise they would have to wait till you recovered or died, and by that time they might half of them be dead themselves. Do you understand me, Sir?”

“Yes, perfectly. Go on, Ingram.”

“Well, Sir, the men did not perceive what he was about, and replied that so long as they left the river they did not care how soon, and that it was better that we should take a cargo of slaves at all events, for Olivarez was in command now, and they should do as he ordered them. I made no reply, indeed Olivarez never put the question to me. Well, Sir, the ivory was soon exchanged for slaves, who are now on board, and it is the slaves whom you have smelt and complained of. We received on board 140, and provisions sufficient with what we had, and having taken in all the water we could below and on deck, we made sail out of the river, and have since steered for the Brazils.”

“But Olivarez has taken a most unwarrantable responsibility,” said I; “and one that he shall answer for.”

“Stop, Sir,” replied Ingram, “you have only heard the first part of the story. When we had been three days at sea, Olivarez, who had been talking to the men, one by one and apart, called them together, and said, it was an opportunity not to be lost, that they had possession of the vessel, and the owner would never have a clue to where she had gone, and that now was the time to take possession of her for themselves, and employ her in the slave-trade on their own account. That, sailing so fast, nothing could overhaul her or board her, and, therefore, they were free from danger. He then proposed that he should command and navigate, and receive one-half of the profits, and that the other half should be divided among the crew—the expense of the provisions, &c. being paid out of it previous to their sharing and making a calculation, he showed them that every voyage would be worth about 100l. a-man after all expenses were paid. The crew consented at once to the terms—all but me; and when he asked me, my answer was, that I would consent to nothing while you were yet alive. I said that, because I was afraid that they would murder me, or throw me overboard.”

“Go on, Ingram; go on, and let me hear it all at once.”

“‘Then you will soon be freed from your difficulty,’ said Olivarez.

“‘I do not know that, Sir,’ I replied, ‘for I think Mr. Musgrave may get over it.’

“‘Indeed,’ he returned, ‘well, then, so much the worse for him.’

“As he, Olivarez, said this, the whole of the crew, to do them justice, cried out, that there should be no murder, for if there was, they not only would have nothing to do with the affair, but would make it known at the first port to which they came. That you had always been a kind, good officer, and were too brave a man to die in that way.

“‘Well, my men,’ said Olivarez, ‘I never had an idea of the kind, and I promise you, if he lives through it, there shall be no murder; I will put him on shore at the first port we arrive at, but in such a way as to secure our safety—that we must look to.’

“The men said, that that was all right, and then they all agreed to join him.

“‘And you, Ingram,’ said Olivarez, ‘what do you say?’

“‘What I said before,’ I replied; ‘that as long as Mr. Musgrave lives I will come to no agreement whatever.’

“‘Well,’ said Olivarez, ‘it is but postponing your decision; I know that you will join us. So now, my lads, as we’re all agreed, we may as well go to dinner.’”

“The scoundrel shall pay for this,” cried I.

“Hush, Sir, hush, I pray; say nothing, but wait patiently and see what turns up. We are not yet at Rio, and when we are, we may be able to do something, but every thing depends upon keeping quiet, for if the men become alarmed, they may be persuaded to kill you to save themselves.”

“That is very true, Ingram,” replied I. “Leave me now for half an hour, I wish to be alone.”

You may imagine, my dear Madam, my agitation at hearing this intelligence. I who had thought that I was within a few days’ sail of Liverpool, to be there received by my cherished Amy, to find myself in the hands of pirates, and close to the Brazils with a cargo of slaves; which they, or rather Olivarez, had taken in the vessel to Rio that he might not be discovered, for he might have found a better mart for his live cargo. And then what would be the anxiety of Amy and her father when I was not heard of? It would be supposed that the schooner was upset in a squall, and all hands had perished. Excited and angry as I was, I felt the truth of what Ingram said, and that it was necessary to be quiet. Perhaps I might by that means not only preserve my life, but again find myself in my own country. When Ingram returned, I asked him if Olivarez knew that I was better, and had recovered my reason. He replied that he did, but that he had told him I was so weak that I could hardly recover.

“That is well,” said I; “keep him in that belief as long as you can.”

He now offered me more gruel, which I took, and I believe that he put an opiate in it, for shortly after I had taken it, I again felt drowsy, and was soon fast asleep. I awoke sooner than before, for it was night, and I heard the voice of Olivarez on deck; from what I gathered, land was in sight, and I heard him order the schooner to be hove to. In the morning Ingram came down in the cabin, bringing me some breakfast, which I ate heartily, for I was recovering fast, and had become quite ravenous.

“Land is in sight,” said I.

“Yes, Sir, it is; but we are many miles to the northward of Rio, I understand, for Olivarez knows the coast well. We shall not be in to-day, if we are to-morrow.”

“I feel quite strong now,” replied I, “and I want to get up.”

“Do so, Sir,” said he; “but if you hear any one coming down the ladder, get into bed again.”

With Ingram’s assistance I dressed myself, and went into the cabin. I reeled as I walked, but as soon as I felt the cool breeze from the stern-ports, I was revived, and in an hour I could walk quite strong.

“Have you heard any more?” inquired I of Ingram.

“Olivarez asked me this morning how you were. I replied that you were recovering fast.

“‘Very well,’ said he, ‘you will share his fate, whatever it may be, since you have been so careful of him, and have put us in such a dilemma; but I’ll contrive to dispose of you both.’

“I made no reply, Sir, as I knew that would only irritate him.”

“You did right, Ingram; a few days will decide our fate. I do not think that he dares to murder us.”

“Nor do I think he wishes it, if he can be clear of us with safety to himself,” replied Ingram.

Two days more passed away, and then Ingram told me that we were a few miles from the town, and should soon be at anchor.

“Go softly,” replied I, “and tell me what is going on.”