Part 7

“Talking about smuggling,” said Bill Jennings, “puts me in mind of the way we used to get dollars off at Boney’s Airs,[3] when I was in the Mutine sloop of war along with Captain Fabian, and we had three fine Deal-built boats that ’ud walk along like race-horses. Well, all the boats’ crews had belts round their waists with pockets to ’em, each just big enough to hold a roll of fifty dollars; so that every man could carry three hundred,--and a tolerably good cargo, too, considering he had to walk as steady as a pump-bolt on shore for fear of the custom-house officers, and to stretch out pretty smartly at his oar when he got into the boat--supposing the wind warn’t fair. Well, one day says the marchant to our coxswain, as we was standing in his store,--says he, ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ which was rather a foolish question to be sure, seeing it was a half-hogshead, such as the small craft had their rum in, and he might have been sartin that Tom Crampton had twigged it. Howsomever, the marchant says to him, ‘My lad,’ says he, ‘do you see this here cask?’ Now it puzzled Tom to think what tack he was standing on, for the licker-bottles were all filled chock-a-block on the side-board, and ‘Mayhap,’ says Tom to himself whilst he scratched his head, ‘mayhap, his honour’s not never a going to gie me it all?’ Howsomever, says the marchant, says he, ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ Tom looked at the half-hogshead and then at the marchant, and then at the rum-bottle, as much as to say he was working a traverse to find the latitude and the longitude of the thing; and then he scratched his head, and took a severe turn with his quid, and ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ axed the marchant. ‘I do, your honour,’ says Tom; ‘and I’ll take my oath on it, if your honour wishes.’--‘No, no,’ says the marchant, ‘your word’s enough. So bring up your boat’s crew, and get ’em aboard as quick as you can.’

[3] Buenos Ayres.

“Now Tom thought that the men were to come up for the stuff and then to go on board the sloop, so as to get there before dark as she lay in the outer roads, about seven miles from the town; so says Tom, says he, ‘God bless your honour! I’ll have ’em up in the wink of a blind eye, and I’m sure they’ll thank your honour for your goodness. Is it rum or brandy?’--‘What do you mean?’ axed the marchant. ‘The cask, your honour,’ says Tom, ‘is it Gemaker, or Coney-hack?’--‘Neither the one nor the other,’ says the marchant; ‘them there are all dollars.’--‘Whew!’ whistles Tom; ‘now I understands your honour, but couldn’t we contrive to get ’em down in the cask just as they are; so that instead of making four or five trips, we may carry off the whole in the turning of a log-glass?’--‘I fear that ’ud be too great a risk,’ says the marchant; ‘or else I wish it could be done.’ ‘Why for the matter o’ the risk,’ says Tom, ‘there’s only one ould chap as I cares about; but he’s always boxing the compass of every thing that he catches sight on, living or dead. But I think I could get to windward of him, arter all’s said and done, and there’s no risk with the men, you know.’ So Tom was allowed to make trial of his skill; and away he goes and gets a purser’s bread-bag, and then walks off to the market and buys a couple o’ sheep’s heads, which he stows away in the bag along with a little hundred of cabbages and inyuns, till it was chock-full. Well, the cask of dollars was got into a cart, which drove off,--Tom keeping a good cable’s length a-head with his bread-bag over his shoulder and a piece of wood shaped like a sugar-loaf done up in a blue paper under his arm; for I should tell you, messmates, that was the way they used to smuggle off the solid silver, and the old coast-guard had made a prize of a couple of these sugar-loaves only a day or two afore. Well, on goes Tom, bending beneath his bag like a crank craft under whole topsails, and now and then taking a heavy lurch to draw attention.

“The jetty runs a good two hundred yards into the river, and right in the teeth of the upper part on it stands the guard-house, where ould Jack Spaniard kept as sharp a look out as a Jew crimp upon pay-day, and presently he sees Tom rolling along and looking as wise as the cook’s-mate in a sudden squall. So he mounts a cockt-hat as big as a Guinea-man’s caboose with a feather in it as ’ud have sarved the whole Chatham division of jollies, and curling his mouthstarshers he marches up to Tom and bids him back his main-yard; but Tom took no notice for the moment, till the ould Signor cries out, ‘Blood and ounds,’ in Spanish, and then he pretends to cotch sight of him for the first time. Away starts Tom as if he was afraid of being boarded, and the Spaniard whips out his rapper, as they calls a sword in that country, and runs him right through the heart--”

“God bless me!” exclaimed I, interrupting old Jennings; “what! did the poor fellow get murdered for his frolic?”

“Murdered, your honour!” reiterated Bill Jennings; “Tom murdered! No, no, the shove gave him better headway--”

“Why did not you declare, but this minute,” said I, “that the Spaniard run him through the heart?”

“Through Tom’s heart! Lord love you, no,” he replied; “it warn’t Tom’s heart, but through the heart of a cabbage, I was going to say, only your honour interrupted me,--a cabbage that was in the bag. Well, there was a pretty chase all along shore, till the Spaniard fires a pistol that hit him right in the head--”

“Well, then, he’s dead enough now, I suppose,” exclaimed I, “if shooting through the head will kill a man.”

“It warn’t Tom’s head,” he replied, laughing, “it was the sheep’s head; for Tom kept the ould chap dodging about till he saw the cask of dollars was in the boat, and she with her three lugs rap full standing off shore with a spanking breeze, and then he pretends to trip up over a piece of rock and lays him all along, hove down on his beam ends. Up comes the Signor hand over hand; because why? Poor Tom had made every nail an anchor, and clung to the earth as if it had been his own nat’ral mother. So, up comes the Signor and grabs hold of the bag, which Tom held on, like grim death against the doctor; but after some tuzzling, Tom lets go the bag and runs for it, leaving Jack Spaniard with his prize. Well, Tom gets down to the captain’s gig and shoves off to the Muskitoe schooner, what was lying in-shore, and the Signor hoists the bag on his shoulders, fully sartin from the weight that he’d made a rich seizure, and back he marches to the guard-house, where every soul had turned out to enjoy a sight of the chase, (so that the cart with the cask passed by without being examined,) and now remained grouped together to see what the Signor had got. There was Spanish sodgers in their cockt-hats, custom-house officers in their long punchos, and coast-o’guinea niggers, men and women, cracking their jokes at the expense of poor Tom, and highly delighted that his cargo was captured, nothing doubting but that it was dollars, or mayhap ounce-bits--that’s doubleloons, messmates,--and all were eager to see it opened, little suspecting it was a mere bag o’ moonshine. Well, the Signor comes right slap into the middle of ’em, puffing and blowing like a sparmacity, and throws down his treasure; one of the black fellows out’s knife and cuts the seizing at the mouth of the bread-bag, and away rolls sheep’s heads and cabbages with a good sprinkling of garlic; and, my eyes, the sodgers began to roar with laughing; the custom-house officers turned-to and swore at every Saint in the calendar, the niggers went dancing mad with delight at the fun, whilst the ould Signor twirled his mouthstarshers and cursed every thing an inch high. But the dollars were safe, and Tom got a handsome present for his trouble; whilst Jack Spaniard was in a precious stew of sheep’s heads and impartinances to think he’d been done so completely.”

“I dearly loves them there sort o’things,” said a weather-beaten old blade; “there’s a some-ut sentimental about ’em that excites simperthy, and brings to the memory many an ould scene of former times.”

“You’re right, boy Ben,” rejoined my first conductor, who had told me of the Mutiny of the Hermione, “and so they do. Some people calls ’em _rum-on-tick_, but I can’t for the life of me tell why, as they seldom gives us credit for much spirits; but if his honour there has no objection, I’ll just give him a yarn that’s twirling in my brain, and mayhap it may please him.”

I readily assented to the proposal, and he accordingly began,--“I remember once, when under the command of the gallant Sir Sidney Smith, up the Mediterranean, we were scouring the coast, and brushing away the French troops; the captain ordered a party in the barge and launch to rig for going ashore, as he intended to pay a visit to a nobleman, who resided about two miles inland, on an elegant estate. Now, the old master was an immense stout man, as big as a grampus; he always gave the vessel a heel to the side he was walking: and as he hadn’t been on dry ground for many months, he was invited to join the captain and some of the other officers in their cruize. But, Lord love you! he thought the ship wouldn’t be safe without him; and, as for fighting like the sodgers, with their marching and their countermarching, why, he didn’t understand their heavylutions, and wasn’t going to be made a light-infantry of. However, they persuaded the old gemman at last; all hands got into the boats, and we shoved off. It was a lovely morning, and as we pulled along-shore, the scenery was beautiful; but more so when we landed and took our course to the nobleman’s house. A wild and romantic spot it was; rocks piled on rocks, yet crowned with verdure--the dark forest and the green fields; while the calm ocean reflected with dazzling brightness the golden beams of the sun.

“Well, d’ye see, the nobleman was glad to see us all, for the French had retreated three weeks before, and he said there wasn’t a trooper within a hundred miles. The wine was set abroach, and all hands began to make merry, particularly Sir Sidney and the officers.

“‘Well, master,’ said the captain, ‘how have you enjoyed your walk?’

“‘Very much, indeed, sir; but,’--looking to seaward,--‘I’m afraid they’re getting the ship too close in. How sweetly she sits, like a duck upon the water! Gad, I’m sorry I left her.’ And then he bellowed, ‘Why don’t you wear round upon t’other tack? But they can’t hear me, so I may just as well whistle jigs to a mermaid.’

“‘Never mind,’ returned the skipper, ‘they’ll keep her afloat; so drink your wine, and make yourself happy.’

“Happy, eh? what out of his ship? That was impossible; so the old man kept growling, like a distant thunder storm. The castle we were in was situated upon a rising ground, that commanded an extensive view of the country; but we were on that side which was next the sea, and after a good _blow_ out,--that is, when we had re-_galed_ ourselves, and the captain had gained what information he wanted, just as we were coming away, in rushed a tall meagre-looking figure, with a face as long as a purser’s account, and as pale as a corpse, while his teeth chattered like a watchman’s rattle.

“‘What’s the matter,--what’s the matter?’ inquired Sir Sidney; but the man was breathless with running, and couldn’t answer. He wrung his hands, and pointed inland. The officers made the best of their way aloft to the top of the castle, and there, with their glasses, discovered a troop of French cavalry, about 200, carrying on under a heavy press.

“My eyes! there was a job. To defend the ship,--the castle, I mean,--was out of the question; for there warn’t above twenty of us up from the boats; besides, it would have been the ruin of the nobleman, in case of defeat. So orders were given to make the best of our way down, and every man to look out for himself. But what was to become of the master? He could hardly walk; and for running, that was impossible, for his legs were so short, he could make no hand at it. The officers proposed to conceal him; but he swore he wouldn’t be stowed away like a bale of damaged slops returned unserviceable, and perhaps be cotch’d and get fricasseed and carbonadoed, like a young frog. ‘No,’ said he; ‘crack on, my boys; and the devil take the starnmost.’

“Off we set, but poor old Soundings couldn’t hold it out; he puffed, and blowed, and waddled along, till he tripped over a mound of earth; and there he lay, like an island of flesh amidst an ocean of grass. Sir Sidney hove to, and laughed till his sides shook. However, he ordered a couple of hands to raise the old gemman on their shoulders, and run with all their might.

“By this time, the troops had advanced within musket shot, and they sent us a few peppercorns to freshen our way. The firing made the men in the boats alert, (for they were out of sight, the landing-place being just over the brow of a hill,) and so they prepared for our reception. The sodgers were coming up with us hand over hand, and their shots flew pretty thick. The old master, as soon as he recovered breath, did nothing but growl at being obliged to run away from the enemy, and kept his pistols ready to salute them in case of their coming alongside. There was now only a corn-field between us and the descent to the boats, when the men, finding themselves considerably in the rear, made a desperate push with their cargo and capsized altogether. Up they sprung again: it was, however, too late to mount the master afresh; besides, he had got a little rest in the carriage, so all hands took to their heels: but just as they arrived in the middle of the corn, the French poured in a smart volley, and the old gemman fell. The rest of the party had reached the boats, and put off upon their oars, all ready to give the troopers a warm reception. The two guns in the launch and one in the barge were loaded with musket-balls, and every man had his musket or pistols ready cocked for the attack. The cavalry appeared on the brow of the hill, as fine a mark as you’d wish to shoot at. Whiz--whiz--we let fly; and they seemed to be struck comical. They thought to capture us at once without difficulty; but, at the second fire, our arms had done so much execution, that they turned tail and scampered off as hard as they could drive.

“The frigate had witnessed the transaction; and when they could bring the guns to bear without injuring our own people, a broadside of round and grape completed their confusion. As soon as the action was over, we found two or three of our men slightly wounded, while many of the enemy lay dead upon the hill; others we could perceive moving about, and some, who had been dismounted, were endeavouring to escape. In about half an hour’s time we again pulled in, but not so cheerful as we did at first. The master had always been a great favourite with the captain, and, indeed, for the matter of that, every soul fore-and-aft looked upon him as a friend. He had come in at the hawse-holes, knew the duty of a tar, and was lenient to a seaman’s failings. No man could ever complain that Mr. Soundings had laid a finger upon him, or been the means of bringing him to the gangway, and, above all, stopping his grog. He was strict with the purser’s-steward, and kept the cook to his tethers. But now to be cut off, as it were, without being able to give the enemy battle, and to be hove down upon his beam-ends by the lubberly French sodgers,--it made all hands melancholy to think of it. If he had died upon the quarter-deck in the heat of an engagement, it would have been another guess-thing, because that would have been in the way of his profession, and he would have dropped his peak and wore round for t’other world with the same calmness and composure that he conned his ship into action, under a firm conviction of going aloft, because he had done his duty. But, to be popped at in a corn-field, like a cock-lark or a partridge,--oh, ’twas a most unnatural death!

“‘Whereabouts did you leave the master?’ said the captain to the man who was with him last.

“‘In the corn-field, sir,’ replied the man; ‘we carried him as long as we could stand under canvass; but both of us were so heavily laden, that I expected to founder every minute, and having too much top-hamper, we did upset at last. But Mr. Soundings got up directly and run with us ever so far, till the crapeaus gave us another broadside, and down he dropped in an instant. I heard him give one loud holloa, and then all was silent; so concluding death had grappled with him, I made all sail for the boats.’

“‘Did you see him,’ inquired the captain, ‘after he fell?’

“‘No, sir; he was buried among the corn, for there was a deep hollow ridge run along the place, and I suppose he rolled into it.’

“‘Poor fellow,’ rejoined Sir Sidney, his eye moistening as he spoke; ‘poor fellow, he’s gone, no doubt. However he shall have a seaman’s grave; so follow me ashore, Mr. E. (addressing the lieutenant) and take half the men with you. The rest, under Mr. L. must stay by the boats, and be prepared in case the troops should charge again.’

“The party drew up upon the beach, all eager to search for the body, and gratified to think that it would not be left as a prey for the gulls, but be hove overboard, sewed up in a hammock and all ship-shape. Sir Sidney Smith walked a-head in advance of the men, full of grief for the loss of his old shipmate; when all at once we heard a voice roaring most piteously, and the next moment a loud shout. We pushed forward, and in another minute a trio of Frenchmen showed themselves at the brow of the hill. Several muskets were presented at them; the sodgers dropped on their knees, when another figure, close behind them, was brought into view, holding a pistol in each hand. And who do you think it was? Why old Soundings himself, with a face full of choler like a heated furnace, his corporation heaving and setting like a mountain billow, and puffing and blowing like a grampus in a storm. Sir Sidney sprung forward and caught the master’s hand, while the rest gathered round and gave three hearty cheers for joy.

“‘Ay, ay,’ said the old gemman, laughing, ‘you’re a pack of cowards, to leave a ship in distress. Safety lays in the length of the legs now-a-days. Run, eh! fine clean-going craft like you, run! and suffer a crazy, weather-beaten, old hulk to battle the watch with a whole fleet! But there, d’ye mind, I have taken three prisoners, and now lend me a hand down to the boat.’

“The fact was, the old boy had tumbled into a hollow, the troops had passed over him, and sometime after their retreat, finding all quiet, he crawled out; when meeting suddenly with three Frenchmen dismounted, he presented his pistols and compelled them to go a-head just as we hove in sight.

“With light hearts the boats were once more shoved off from the beach; and, notwithstanding the old gemman boasted highly of his prowess, he swore it should be a long day before he’d trust his precious limbs out of the ship again, to go bush-fighting like a land privateer.”