Part 1 (2/2)
”Bill,” said he with a sigh, ”you and I, boy and man, have sailed together a good score of years, and never had a fall-out about nothing all that time, and it goes to my heart, Bill, to say any thing that you won't like; but it must be done--that I sees--so it's no use to have no circ.u.mbendibus. Your missus was took very bad--very bad indeed--just in the middle of the gale, and there was no one to send for you--and so, do you see--”
”My wife--Molly!--oh, what has happened, Paul?” exclaimed Freeborn, not waiting for an answer; but springing below, he rushed to the sick-bay, as the hospital is called. The faint cry of an infant reached his ears as he opened the door. Betty Snell, one of the other nurses, was so busily employed with something on her knees, that she did not see him enter. The dim light of a lantern, hanging from a beam overhead, fell on it. He saw that it was a newborn infant. He guessed what had happened, but he did not stop to caress it, for beyond was the cot occupied by his wife. There she lay, all still and silent. His heart sank within him; he gazed at her with a feeling of terror and anguish which he had never before experienced. He took her hand. It fell heavily by her side. He gasped for breath. ”Molly!” he exclaimed at length, ”speak to me, girl--what has happened?”
There was no answer. Then he knew that his honest, true-hearted wife was s.n.a.t.c.hed from him in this world for ever. The big drops of salt spray, which still clung to his hair and bushy beard, dropped on the kind face of her he had loved so well, but not a tear escaped his eyes.
He gladly would have wept, but he had not for so many a long year done such a thing, and he felt too stunned and bewildered to do so now. He had stood as a sailor alone could stand on so unstable a foothold, gazing on those now placid and pale unchanging features for a long time,--how long he could not tell,--when Paul Pringle, who had followed him to the door of the sick-bay, came up, and, gently taking him by the shoulders, said:
”Come along, Bill; there's no use mourning: we all loved her, and we all feel for you, from the Captain downwards. That's a fact. But just do you come and have a look at the younker. Betty Snell vows that he's the very image of you, all except the beard and pigtail.”
The latter appendage in those days was worn by most sailors, and Bill Freeborn had reason to pride himself on his. The mention of it just then, however, sent a pang through his heart, for Molly had the morning before the gale dressed it for him.
Freeborn at first shook his head and would not move; but at last his s.h.i.+pmate got him to turn round, and then Betty Snell held up the poor little helpless infant to him, and the father's heart felt a touch of tenderness of a nature it had never before experienced, and he stooped down and bestowed a kiss on the brow of his newborn motherless child.
He did not, however, venture to take it in his arms.
”You'll look after it, Betty, and be kind to it?” said he in a husky voice. ”I'm sure you will, for her sake who lies there?”
”Yes, yes, Bill; no fear,” answered Betty, who was a good-natured creature in her way, though it was a rough way, by the bye.
She was the wife of one of the boatswain's mates. Her companion, Nancy Bolton, who was the wife of the sergeant of marines, was much the same sort of person; indeed, it would not have done for the style of life they had to lead, to have had too refined characters on board.
”Bless you, Freeborn--take care of the baby, of course we will!” added Nancy, looking up from some occupation about which she had been engaged.
”We'll both be mothers to him, and all the s.h.i.+p's company will act the part of a father to him. Never you fear that. As long as the old s.h.i.+p holds together, he'll not want friends; nor after it, if there's one of us alive. Set your mind at rest now.”
”Yes, that we will, old s.h.i.+p,” exclaimed Paul Pringle, taking Freeborn's hand and wringing it warmly. ”That's to say, if the little chap wants more looking after than you can manage. But come along now. There's no use staying here. Bet and Nancy will look after the child better than we can, and you must turn in. Your hammock is the best place for you now.”
The gale at length ceased; the s.h.i.+p was put on her proper course for the West Indies, whither she was bound; the sea went down, the clouds cleared away, and the glorious sun came out and shone brightly over the blue ocean. All the officers and men a.s.sembled on the upper deck, and then near one of the middle ports was placed a coffin, covered with the Union-Jack. There ought to have been a chaplain, but there was none; and so the Captain came forward with a Prayer-book, and in an impressive, feeling way, though not without difficulty, read the beautiful burial service to be used at sea for a departed sister; and the two women stood near the coffin, one holding a small infant; and there stood William Freeborn, supported by Paul Pringle, for by himself he could scarcely stand; and then slowly and carefully the coffin was lowered into the waves, and as they closed over it, in the impulse of the moment, the bereaved widower would have thrown himself after it, not knowing what he was about, had not Paul Pringle held him back. Down sank the coffin rapidly, and was hid to sight by the blue ocean--the grave of many a brave sailor, and of thousands of the young, and fair, and brave, and joyous, and of the proud and rich also, but never of a more kind-hearted honest woman than was Molly Freeborn. So all on board the _Terrible_ declared, and a.s.suredly they spoke the truth.
CHAPTER TWO.
Onward across the Atlantic, as fast as her broad spread of white canvas filled by the wind could force her, glided the staunch old ”seventy-four,” which bore our hero and his fortunes, though at that time they did not look very prosperous; nor was he himself, it must be acknowledged, held in much consideration except by his own father and his two worthy nurses. His fare, too, was not of the most luxurious, nor suited to his delicate appet.i.te. Milk there was none; and the purser, not expecting so juvenile an addition to the s.h.i.+p's company, had not provided any in a preserved state,--indeed, in those days, it may be doubted whether such an invention had been thought of,--while a round-shot had carried off the head of the cow in the last action in which the _Terrible_ had been engaged. As she furnished fresh beef to the s.h.i.+p's company, they would not have objected to a similar accident happening again.
Poor Molly's child had, therefore, to be fed on flour and water, and such slops as the doctor and the nurses could think of. They could not have been unsuitable, for it throve wonderfully, and was p.r.o.nounced by all the s.h.i.+p's company as fine a child as ever was seen.
”Have you been and had a look at Molly Freeborn's baby?” asked d.i.c.k Tarbrush of his messmate, Tom Buntline. ”Do now, then. Such a pretty young squeaker. Bless you, it'll do your heart good. He's quite a hangel.”
Similar remarks were made, one to the other, by the men; and one by one, or sometimes a dozen of them together, would come into the women's cabin to have a look at the baby, and then they would stand in a circle round him, with their hands on their hips or behind them, afraid to touch it, their pigtails stuck out as they bent down, their huge beards, and whiskers, and pendent lovelocks forming a strong contrast to the diminutive, delicate features of the infant, who might, notwithstanding, one day be expected to grow up similar in all respects to one of them.
After the gale, the _Terrible_ encountered head winds, and light winds, and calms, and baffling winds of every description, so that her pa.s.sage to the station was long delayed. It gave time, however, for the baby to grow, and for the discussion of several knotty points connected with him. The most knotty of them was the matter of his christening. Now, the crew held very much the same opinion with regard to their Captain that a certain captain held of himself, when one day he took it into his head to make his chaplain a bishop, that of his own sovereign will he could do all things. They knew that when there was no chaplain on board, he could bury a grownup person, and so they thought that he surely could christen a little infant. They accordingly, after due deliberation, resolved to send a deputation to him, requesting him to perform the ceremony.
After some discussion, it was agreed that it would be advisable to carry the baby itself with them, to strengthen the force of their appeal. It was thought better that the women should not appear; and Paul Pringle was selected unanimously to be the bearer of the child. Now honest Paul was a bachelor, and had literally never handled a baby in his life. He, therefore, felt an uncommon awe and trepidation, as half unwillingly and half proudly he undertook the office. However, at last, when coyly led forward, with his head all on one side and a beaming smile on his honest countenance, he found that his big paws, stretched out, made a first-rate cradle; though, not being aware of the excessive lightness of the little creature, he very nearly chucked it over his shoulders.
Betty and Nancy, after arranging the child's clothes, bestowing sundry kisses, and giving several important cautions, let the party of honest Jacks proceed on their errand.
”Well, my lads, what is it you want?” asked the Captain in a good-natured voice, as the seamen, being announced by the sentry, made their appearance at the door of the cabin.
Paul Pringle cleared his voice before speaking, and then he said, very nearly choking the baby in his mechanical attempt to pull a lock of his hair as he spoke:
”We be come for to ax your honour to make a Christian of this here squeaker.”
The good Captain looked up with his one eye, and now perceived the small creature that Paul held in his hands.
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