gave some signs of coming to, or rather of awakening from his drunken slumbers. First he rolled his head about under the cloak, then he got it free from the folds, and, when he had done this, he opened his bloodshot eyes and stared at us with a look of tipsy amazement. Yet, so strong was the unhappy youth's ruling passion, that he exclaimed:
"If you have a taste of that spirit left in the flask, I pray you give it me."
"Feel in the pocket over by your left shoulder," replied Quin, "and you may yet find a drop or so-'twill warm you." Then, turning to me as the wretched Roderick did as he was bidden, Quin said over his shoulder, in a whisper, "'Tis a charity to give it him. It is the last he will taste for many a day. The skippers do not give their prisoners aught else but water on these cruises, and as for the planters-if all accounts be true! – they treat their white slaves no better." After saying which he bent to his oar again.
For a moment the draught seemed to arouse Roderick and even to put sense into his muddled pate, since, as he gazed on the shore on either side, he muttered, "This is not the way home. Not the way I know of"; but, even as he did so, the fumes of the overnight's liquor, stirred up perhaps by the new accession of drink, got the better of him again and once more he closed his eyes.
"'Tis thy way home at any rate," I heard Oliver mutter; "the way to the only home you will know of for some years. And may it be as happy a one to thee as thou destined it for thy cousin." Then turning swiftly to me, he said, "Pull two strokes, Gerald; we are alongside the Dove."
As we slewed round to run alongside the gangway, there stood at the top of it as villainous a looking old man as ever it was my lot to see. An old man clad in a dirty plush suit with, on his head, a hat covered with tarnished, or rather blackened, silver lace; one who squinted hideously down at us.
"Whence come you, friends?" he asked. "From the noble Captain O'Rourke," replied Oliver, "and we bring you his parting gift. The youth is not well, having partaken freely over night, doubting, perhaps, of your hospitality. Now, sir, if you will produce the price named to the Captain and send down a man or so to haul him on board, he is very much at your service."
"Ay, ay," said the captain, "let's see him though, first. I don't want to buy a dead man-as I did up at Glasgow not long ago-or one who has lost his limbs. Here, Jabez, and you, Peter, jump down and haul him up," while, as he spoke, he produced a filthy skin bag from his pocket and began counting out some guineas into his palm.
Those called Jabez and Peter-one of whom was a negro-did as they were bidden, and, shoving our boat a little forward so as to bring the stern, where Roderick lay, up to the platform of the gangway, they quickly threw off the cloak, and, seizing his limbs, began to lift them up and let them fall, to see that they were not broken nor he dead. But such treatment even this poor bemused and sodden creature could not bear without protest, so, as the men seized him and swiftly bore him up the gangway until he stood upon the deck of the Dove-a filthy, dirty-looking craft, with, however, a great, high poop much ornamented with brass and gilding-he began to strike out right and left, and to scream and ejaculate.
"Hands off, you ruffians, hands off you wretches, I say! What! do you know who I am; do you know that I am the son of the Viscount St. Amande and his heir? Let me go, you dogs!" and putting his hand to where his sword should have been and not finding it there, he struck at the negro, who, instantly striking back at him, fetched him such a blow on the cheek as sent him reeling against the rough-tree rail, where he glowered and muttered at all around.
"Hark ye, young sir," said the villainous looking skipper, "we have been informed before this by the gallant Captain O'Rourke that it pleases you to style yourself a son of Lord St. Amande." Here Quin nodded up to the speaker, saying, "'Tis so, I have even at this moment a paper in my pocket saying that he does so claim that position." "But let me tell you," the captain went on, "'twill avail you nothing on board this craft. I am, like the honest man in the boat below, in possession of a paper from his lordship saying you will try this tack with me, and, as I tell you, 'twill profit you nothing. You may call yourself what you will but you must accustom yourself to this ship for some weeks, at least, and take your part with these your companions till you reach your destination. While, if you do not do so, I will have you brained with a marling-spike or flung into the sea, or, since I cannot afford to lose you, have you put in irons in the hold," after which he turned away from Roderick, handed the twenty guineas to Oliver, and bellowed out his orders for getting the ship under weigh at once.
But now, as I glanced at those whom the man spoke of as his companions, my heart went out to my cousin, and, cruelly as he had ever used me, and even remembering that he had chuckled over the doom which now was his having been planned for me, I could not but pity him. Nay, I think, had it been possible, that I would have saved him, would have had him set on shore free again, and would have trusted to Heaven to soften his heart and make him grow into a better man. His companions! The creatures with whom he was to live and herd until he reached Virginia, and even afterwards, maybe. Oh! 'twas dreadful to reflect upon. They stood upon the deck of that horrid-looking craft, surrounding him, jeering at him, mocking at him, but not one with a look of pity in his or her face-as, indeed, 'twas not likely they should have since his fate was theirs. Amongst them there were convicted felons with chains to their legs and arms, who were being sent out so as to ease the jails which were always full to overflowing; there were women who were coin clippers and coiners, and some who-for I learnt their histories afterwards-had been traffickers in their own sex, or ensnarers of drunken men, or even murderesses-though some of them were fair enough in looks and some, also, quite young. And there were youths, nay, lads, younger than I was, who had been sold to the captain (to be again re-sold by him at the end of his voyage) by their own unnatural parents, so that, as they became lost, the parents' shame might become forgotten. There, too, lying about, were drunken lads and girls who had been picked up in the streets and brought on board and kept drunk until the ship should sail; there were some who looked like peasants who had been enticed in from the country, since they wore scarce any clothes, and-horror of horrors! – sitting weeping on a cask was a clergyman, still with his cassock on and with a red blotchy face. He-I afterwards learnt also-had forged to obtain money for drink, and this was his doom. And those who were not drunk, or sleeping off the effects of drink, came near that other drunkard, my cousin, and, approaching as close as possible to him until the mate and sailors kicked them, men and women, indiscriminately away, jeered at and derided him and made him welcome, and asked him if he had any money, or what he thought of the prospects of a sea voyage, and with what feelings he looked forward to a sojourn in Virginia as a slave.
"As a slave! In Virginia!" he screamed, taking in his situation at last. "As a slave in Virginia! Oh, God! spare me, spare me! 'Tis a mistake, I tell you. A mistake. Another one was meant, not I. 'Tis he who should go. 'Tis he! Send for him and set me free!"
And then they all laughed again, while the captain, seizing him roughly by the collar, threw him amidst the others, telling him he would do very well for him; and then they hauled up the gangway and gradually the ship wore round.
She had commenced her voyage.
So he went forth a slave and, as he went, the pity that had welled up into my heart for him became stifled and I felt it no more. For, think! As he screamed in his desperation for mercy he asked for it only for himself, he would at that moment, in spite of the horrors which he saw, have cheerfully sent me in his place. Nay, in his place or not, he had meant that I should go. Why, I asked myself, should I pity him?
The Dove had quickly caught the north wind that was blowing now; she had slipped away so easily from us when once her anchor was up and her sails set, that, as she went heeling over down the river, we saw but little of her but her stern and her poop lantern swinging aft. And so we turned our boat's nose back to the city and prepared to return.
Oliver was himself silent; I think because in his noble heart there was the same conflict going on that there was in mine-the regret for having been concerned in such a deed fighting with the pleasant conviction
