CHAPTER XXVI.

THE CAPTAIN OF THE SEA SCOURGE.

They walked on through a grove of palms, and then through a thicket that clothed the base of the mountain, until they reached the front of Britomarte’s grotto.

“You see it is to no house that we are able to invite you, captain, but we will make you very heartily welcome to this ‘hole in the wall’ of the mountain,” said Justin, smiling, as he opened the door, and drew aside the curtain that concealed the entrance to Britomarte’s grotto.

“A palace for Pan and the wood nymphs, upon my soul!” said the captain, in sincere admiration, as he followed Justin and Britomarte into the grotto, and looked around upon its glistening white walls and brilliant skylight.

“We like it very much,” said Britomarte.

“Like it! Who would dwell in houses made with hands, when they might live in a fairy grotto like this?” exclaimed the captain.

Justin drew one of the armchairs forward, and invited him to take it.

And Judith removed the woolen table cover, and replaced it with a damask tablecloth, preparatory to spreading the lunch.

As plates, dishes, glasses, castors, knives, forks and spoons were in turn placed upon the table, the captain of the _Sea Scourge_ looked on with ever-increasing amazement. Turning his eyes from the well-appointed table to the comfortably-furnished grotto, he said:

“It appears to me that you saved a great deal from the wreck.”

“Yes,” said Justin, cautiously, for he could not as yet feel full confidence in his guest; “yes, the ship was cast very high upon the rocks, and when the sea went down she was almost entirely out of the water, and we saved at least enough furniture from the cabins and dining-saloons to fit up this grotto comfortably. The crockery in the dining-saloon suffered most in the storm, for out of a mountain of broken glass and earthenware, we rescued only a dozen or so of whole pieces; and indeed the whole pieces are not entirely whole, for there is scarcely one that is not cracked or chipped.”

“It must have been a stupendous labor for one man to get all these things, especially this heavy furniture, from the wrecked ship to the shore.”

“It was the labor of months,” answered Justin, “but I did not accomplish it alone. Miss Conyers brought all the light articles over, and Judith Riordan, who is a model of strength, assisted me to bring the heavy ones.”

While the two men conversed, Judith, under the direction of Britomarte, spread the table with a cold ham, a chicken pie, a loaf of bread, cheese, and a bottle of brandy.

“Brandy, too!” exclaimed the captain of the _Sea Scourge_, on beholding this last welcome addition to the feast. “Brandy, too! you are very fortunate, as well as industrious. You must have saved a lot of it, to have lasted you nearly two years.”

“Nay,” said Justin, evasively, “we saved some bottles, but as we kept it in case of illness, and never required its use in that contingency, the store could not give out.”

“Then I assure you, if I were going to leave you a settled colonist upon this Desert Isle, I would not touch a drop of your brandy, but as I hope to take you all with me when I sail, I will gladly drink it to your health and happiness,” said the captain of the _Sea Scourge_, suiting the action to the word by helping himself liberally to the brandy.

“Sure if he’s not a fraybooter itself, it’s fray and aisy he is entirely,” muttered Judith, as she passed Miss Conyers on her way to the kitchen. Britomarte smiled, and Judith presently reappeared with a pitcher of water, which she also set upon the table.

And now, all being ready, Justin invited his guest to seat himself at the board.

“But where are the men whom you ordered to follow you, captain?” inquired the host.

“Oh, they are straggling in, I suppose. They will be here presently, doubtless. But, my young friend, pray don’t waste this brandy on them, whatever you do. It is genuine old Otard, such as you cannot buy for love or money in the States, though you may pay highly for a lot of drugged Yankee rum that sells under its honored name. Besides, my fellows wouldn’t appreciate it, and it is desecration of good liquor to give it to men who don’t know it when they taste it. Give them the cheapest whisky that you may happen to have to throw away,” said the captain, filling for himself another glass, which he held up to the light with the glance of a connoisseur.

“Indeed, I think I am no better judge of liquors than the most ignorant of your men. We have a small cask of whisky, and your men are welcome to it, though whether it is good, bad or indifferent, I cannot tell,” said Justin, who was busy in cutting up the chicken pie, with which he liberally helped his guest.

“Chicken, by all that’s gracious! Did you save chickens enough to stock your poultry yards, my friend?” inquired the captain.

“We saved a few, from which we raised other broods,” answered Justin, rather reservedly, for it did not escape his notice that while Captain Spear put his host through a rather close cross-examination, he was not at all communicative on his own affairs.

And neither had Justin lost sight of the mystery of the strange flag, but with something of the old Bedouin sentiment of hospitality, which permits the guest, whoever he may be, to come and go unquestioned, Justin forbore to make inquiries, at least for the present. He hoped that the captain himself would soon volunteer information.

In this he was disappointed. The captain ate heartily of the chicken pie, and passed from that to the ham, and from the ham to the cheese, washing down the whole with abundant draughts of old brandy, which seemed to take no more effect on him as yet than so much pure water.

At last, when the stranger had eaten enough and was satisfied, and Judith had taken out the remnants of the feast, and divided them among the men who were sitting grouped outside the grotto door, Justin thought the time had come when, without impropriety, he might question his guest. He began in a delicate, distant, roundabout manner, on the common ground of politics.

“I need not ask you if you are a native American, Captain Spear. I see that you are.”

“Yes—I am. And yourself? Your name is German; yet you speak English like a native.”

“I am a native American of German descent,” answered Justin.

“A native American, are you?—of the North, or the South?” inquired the stranger, pointedly.

“Of the South,” replied Justin, rather reservedly, and feeling that the tables were being turned upon him, and that from the questioner he was again becoming the questioned.

“Of the South! So am I. Give me your hand again. We shall be friends, I am sure!” warmly exclaimed the red-bearded captain, seizing the fist of his host and shaking it heartily.

“Thanks,” said Justin, wincing somewhat. Then, making another effort to enter upon the common ground of politics, he said:

“When I left my native country last October a year ago, the contest was very bitter between the two great parties that divided the nation. Which succeeded in electing their candidate?”

“Good Heavens! What a realizing sense of your long sequestration from the world and your utter ignorance of its affairs your question gives me! I positively never fully appreciated your position until this moment! Man, you might as well have been dead and buried in your grave as entombed alive in this desert of an island!”

“I do not think so,” said Justin. “But tell me who was elected President of the United States?”

“Is it possible that you don’t know?”

“How should I? I left the United States in October. When I left there seemed to be an equal chance of success between the candidates; the election did not come off until November.”

“And you don’t know what has happened since?”

“No, I tell you.”

“What! did no passing ship bring you the news?”

“If a ship had passed, we should not have been found here,” said Justin, impatiently.

“Did no bird sing it? No wave bear it? No breeze waft it?”

“Birds, waves and breezes are not apt to gossip with me,” replied Justin.

“Hear it, Olympian Jove! Here is a gallant son of the South that does not yet know that he is free! That he has been free for nearly two years! A man that still believes in the supremacy of the Stars and Stripes and in the existence of the Glorious Union! Ha—ha—ha! ho—ho—ho! Oh! but in respect to the ladys’ presence, I could shout with laughter! Come—what will you give me for my news?”

“Nay, friend, if you will not freely impart your news to an exile who has been without any for so long a time, I have nothing to offer you but my thanks,” replied Justin, greatly perplexed by the words and manners of his guest.

“Now that appeals to my better nature! I will tell you all. But stay—I must not tell you all at once. It would overwhelm you!”

“In Heaven’s name, what has happened? Have we annexed Canada, or Mexico, or both?”

“Neither yet—I tell you I must break the matter to you gently. And first by answering your question as to who was elected President of the United States. And I will do it dramatically as well as gradually. Behold, the curtain rises on the grand drama. Act 1st, Scene 1st.—The Election of Abraham Lincoln!”

“Thank Heaven!” said Justin.

“I say so too! We Southerners worked hard for the election of Old Abe; because we knew if he was not elected we could never carry our point with the common people against their superstitious attachment to the Union.”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand you.”

“No; perhaps not, for that was one of the deepest dodges of state-craft that ever was tried. The slave-power working covertly for the election of the abolition candidate! Ha—ha—ha! Ho—ho—ho!”

“Go on—perhaps I shall know what you would be at presently,” said Justin.

“Perhaps you will. Shift the scene. Scene 2nd.—The Secession of South Carolina!”

“What!” thundered Justin, in astonishment.

“Yes, sir!” replied the captain of the _Sea Scourge_, who understood only the astonishment.

“South Carolina seceded?” repeated Justin, now in incredulous amazement.

“Glorious little State! Yes! She alone first flung down the gauntlet of defiance! She, single handed, challenged the whole power of the Federal Government and inaugurated the second great War of Independence!”

“What followed?” demanded Justin, in a low voice; while Britomarte, leaning her elbow on the table and bending forward, listened breathlessly to the next words of the stranger. “Wait and see! Shift the scenes. Scene 3d. This is a very exciting scene. Secession of Georgia, followed by the secession of all the Gulf States! Retirement of the Southern Senators from the Senate of the United States!”

“And were they suffered to depart?” inquired Britomarte, in a soft but thrilling voice.

“Of course they were, young lady! What should hinder them?”

“Their arrest, I should think.”

“Ha—ha—ha! Ho—ho—ho! Catch Uncle Jemmy at that game! or any of his Cabinet either! But let me go on with the play. Scene 4th. A very stately scene this—the Confederate Congress at Montgomery! Organization of a provisional government! Election of Jefferson Davis as President of the Southern Confederacy!”

“No!” exclaimed Justin, starting up in almost uncontrollable agitation.

“Yes, I tell you! Now sit down and be quiet! Don’t let your feelings overcome you prematurely. For there are more news and greater scenes to come! I see I was right to break the glory on you gradually—as the day dawns. No one could bear the light of the sun if it started up suddenly in the blackness of the night.”

“Go on,” said Justin.

“I’m going on. Scene 5th. A very comic scene this. Executive mansion. Emissaries of the Confederacy inviting President Jemmy to withdraw United States troops from Fort Sumter. Emissaries from Major Anderson beseeching President Jemmy to reinforce United States troops at Fort Sumter. President Jemmy standing hesitating between two opinions, like the donkey between two bundles of hay—doesn’t know what to do, and does nothing.”

“The man must have been in his dotage!” exclaimed Justin.

“Probably! We didn’t object to that! But let us proceed with the play. Scene 6th. A splendid spectacular scene this—embracing the whole depth of the stage, the full force of the company, brilliant fireworks, _et cetera_. In short—The bombardment of Fort Sumter! The fall of Fort Sumter! Lowering of the Star-Spangled Banner. Elevation of the Confederate Flag! Grand Tableau! And the curtain falls upon the first act of the great drama amidst thunders of applause.”

Justin had sprung to his feet, and was standing gazing with starting eyes, distended nostrils and clenched teeth at the speaker.

“What the demon ails you, man? Are you mad?” exclaimed the rebel captain.

“I would return the question! What ails you? Are you mad? Are you drawing imaginary pictures black as the scenes of Dante’s Inferno? Are you talking at random? Do you know what you are saying?” demanded Justin, glaring at his guest.

“Yes, I know very well what I am saying; I am saying that we have stormed and carried Fort Sumter! That we have dragged down to the dust the proud Star-Spangled Banner that never was humbled before!” said the rebel captain, helping himself to another great bumper of the strong old brandy that was now beginning to affect even his seasoned system, so as to inflame his blood and dim his perceptions.

“Oh! dread God of Battles, where stayed thy thunderbolts?” exclaimed Justin, starting from the table and hurriedly pacing the whole length of the grotto.

He felt an almost uncontrollable desire to take this man by the throat and hurl him through the door; but he remembered that the man was his own invited guest, and had sat at his board, broken his bread, and drank his health; he also reflected that only from this man could he get the information which he was so anxious to obtain, and so restrained his impulse.

Meanwhile Captain Spear deceived himself with that common delusion which blinded so many Secessionists to the sentiments of loyal Southerners, whom they supposed to be fellow Secessionists, merely because they were fellow-citizens; and his perceptions were still further obscured by the fumes of the brandy he had swallowed, and so he utterly misunderstood the character of Justin Rosenthal, and mistook the cause of his excitement. He believed that the young man, being a native of the South, must be an advocate of Secession, and that his great emotion was in sympathy with his own high exultation over the victory he had just been describing.

“If you will only sit down and compose yourself, my young friend, I will go on with the play. There are greater glories to come than any I have yet described, I can tell you!” said the rebel captain.

“Yes, go on with the play!” said Justin, throwing himself into his chair, but averting his face from the captain.

“The curtain rises on Act 3rd, Scene 1st. There is another grand spectacular scene! Again the whole depth of the stage; the full strength of the company; pyrotechnics—dazzling effects! In a word The Battle of Manassas! The great Federal army under General McDowell—the Great Confederate army under General Beauregard. Tremendous engagement! Terrific fighting! Total rout of the Federals! Complete triumph of the Confederates! Grand tableau!”

Here the captain paused, helped himself to another bumper of the old Otard, swallowed it at a gulp, closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair.

“Go on,” said Justin, scarcely able to speak for the strong emotion that nearly choked his voice.

“That’s all. I have finished the bottle, and I have finished the tale; or, rather, all I have to tell. When the curtain dropped on that scene I left the theatre of war, at least in regard to the military branch of action. In short, I received letters of marque from the Confederate Government, authorizing me to cruise in quest of Federal prizes, and I took the command of the privateer _Sea Scourge_. I have already taken a few Federal merchant ships; but after appropriating their cargoes and money chests, was obliged unfortunately to scuttle and sink them. Hadn’t enough men to spare, you see, to man them and send them home.”

“And their unfortunate crew?” groaned Justin.

“It was a pity,” said the drunken captain, sleepily, “but I had to sink them with their ships! Hadn’t men enough to guard them!”

“And now?”

“Now I am cruising about in these latitudes, lying in wait for returning East Indiamen, which are always rich prizes and easy prey, being without guns.”

“And so!” exclaimed Justin, no longer able to restrain himself, but bounding to his feet, and seizing the rebel captain by the throat, and shaking him violently—“and so I have been harboring no less a miscreant than a licensed pirate, who takes advantage of his letters of marque and makes war—not upon men-of-war, but upon defenseless merchantmen—seizing their cargoes, murdering their crews, and scuttling their ships!”

“It was a mil—lil—litary necessity, commodore!” spluttered the wretch, gasping and choking in the viselike grasp of the furious young athlete.

“Your instant execution is a moral necessity, miscreant!” thundered Justin, shaking him by the throat as though he would have shaken his sinful soul from his brutal body.

“Justin! Justin! forbear! would you murder the villain at your own board!” frantically exclaimed Britomarte, starting up and seizing the arm of the young man. “Would you murder him before my eyes!”

“I would execute him now and here! for he deserves instant death!” cried the young man, tightening his grasp until the pirate grew black in the face.

“Justin! Justin! spare him! not for his sake, but for your own honor! He is too much intoxicated to defend himself. He is helpless as a child in your grasp! For your own honor, Justin! curb your just rage and spare a defenseless man!” pleaded Britomarte, clinging to her lover.

“I will obey you, my queen! I will spare the miscreant, though he does not deserve to be spared, never having spared others!” replied Justin, hurling from him the form of the pirate, who fell heavily, striking his head upon the stone floor.

“Oh, Justin! I fear that he is already dead!” exclaimed Britomarte, approaching the motionless form of the pirate, who, from the united effects of drunkenness, suffocation, and concussion, was now quite insensible.

“He is dead drunk, that is all,” replied Justin, turning the body half over with his foot and then leaving it.

He went to the entrance of the cavern and looked out. The men that had been grouped before the door were nowhere in sight; but Judith was walking about gathering up crusts and bones and other litter left by them on the ground.

Justin beckoned her to approach, and she came.

“What are you doing, Judith?” he inquired, in a low voice.

“Claning up the yard afther the saymen, sure. Troth, they’re as dirthy as pigs at their males, so they are.”

“Where have they gone, Judith?”

“Divil a bit iv me knows! They took up the keg iv whisky ye gave them, so they did, and walked off wid it before me two looking eyes. Meself thinks they have carried it down to the boat, and are stealing it off to the ship unbeknownst to the captain! Sure I called to them to stop; but they told me ye gave them the whisky itself, which I couldn’t contradict.”

“I am glad they are gone, Judith; but I suppose they will come back here presently for their captain. Come in here, Judith, a moment; I wish to speak with you,” said Justin, gravely.

Judith came into the grotto, wondering. But when she saw the insensible form of the pirate captain, she exclaimed:

“Lorrud kape us! I thought how it would be! Sure he’s afther dhrinking a whole bottle iv that strong old brandy, and has fallen down dead dhrunk, so he has. Sure, sir, where will we drag him away to?”

“Nowhere, Judith! he must remain just where he is until his men return to take him! But draw near and listen to me. This man is not a Confederate officer, nor is his ship a Confederate privateer. Neither would be acknowledged by the Confederate States. The Southern people would not tolerate piracy. This man has taken advantage of civil war to become a pirate. You have heard and read enough to be able to know and dread the lawlessness and cruelty of these pirates——”

“Pirates! Lord betune us from harrm, are they pirates?” exclaimed Judith, opening her mouth and eyes and suspending her breath.

“They are pirates, Judith. Now compose yourself, my good girl. And, dear Britomarte, attend. You must take Judith with you and leave this grotto. You must both go up the mountain to my hole in the rock, which is the safest hiding place on the whole island. You must conceal yourselves there until these men have finally left the island and their ship has sailed. If they do not see you again they may not think of you. Or even if they do think of you, they will never be able to find you in that secure retreat. Go at once!”

“But you, Justin—but you,” exclaimed Miss Conyers, anxiously.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, how? Oh, how? Think of the fury of that wretch when he recovers his senses, and remembers the punishment you inflicted on him. Think of the vengeance of his crew. What could you, one man, do against the pirate and all his band?”

“Britomarte, you who have no fears for yourself, should have none for me. Only death can come to me. Worse, infinitely worse, might reach you. Go, dear Britomarte. Go at once. These miscreants may be even now on their way here,” he urged.

“Justin, once before I was forced from your side in an hour of deadly peril. I will not be so again,” she replied, looking white, and firm as marble.

“Dear Britomarte, you shall be forced to nothing, but you shall be convinced of the necessity of following my advice. The peril you dread for me is nothing—nothing. That drunken brute whose recovery you dread so much, will not come to his senses for many hours. His men, when they come for him, will have to carry him off in his present state of unconsciousness. And even when he does recover, it is not likely that he will remember anything about the choking he got from me. As to the crew, I have treated them kindly. They will be contented with helping themselves to everything they want, and they will leave me in peace. It is you and Judith only who will be in peril from them—in awful peril, if they see you. Go, Britomarte. Oh, dear Britomarte, hasten!”

“I cannot bear to leave you alone to meet that desperate band!” she cried.

“Britomarte! I can take care of myself by staying here, but I can only take care of you by concealing you in the cavern. Britomarte, listen. In that horrible Sepoy insurrection in India a few years ago, when the banded fiends invested the Tower of Djel and carried it by storm, the young English officer commanding the place shot his young bride through the brain, to save her from falling into the hands of those demons! Britomarte, if you do not follow my counsel and conceal yourself in the cavern, that may be the only means left me to save you from worse than death!”

Still she hesitated.

“I would rather fall by your hand than be forced to leave you in an hour of danger!” she said.

“Britomarte, I repeat you shall be forced to do nothing—not even to save yourself; but if you persist in remaining here, you will drive me mad!” he exclaimed.

“I will go, then,” she answered, reluctantly.

Not to give her time to think the matter over, he slipped her arm in his and led her from the grotto, calling to the panic-stricken Irish girl to follow them.

Holding her hand, he helped her to ascend the almost inaccessible height where his “hole in the rock” was situated.

He put her and her attendant in there; and then he closed the opening with fragments of rock, so loosely put together as not to exclude the air; and then he stuck green brushwood in between them in such a way as to make it look like growing bushes and conceal the entrance from the most prying eyes.

Having completed his task, he put his head down among the brushwood and his lips to a small crevice between the fragments of rock, and whispered:

“Good-night, dear Britomarte! Trust in Providence and keep up your spirits. As soon as the pirate ship has gone I will come and release you, and all will be well.”