Chapter VIII

OF MY SECOND VOYAGE IN THE BOSCOBEL, AND OF THE ENDING THEREOF.

Now we talking in this wise, there come on board of us the skipper of a Dutch ship that lay near at hand, and told Captain Freeman that the Morattys were beat off for the present, but that the town was in an uproar for the escape of one of the prisoners sentenced to be burnt by the Inquisition, and that a search should be made for this person throughout the city, and also among the shipping lying in the river. And the captain returning to the cabin, and telling this news to me, we consulted together what we should do. And first the captain sent his mate on shore, bearing a message to the captain of the guard of that part of the city nearest us, offering to land some of his crew for to aid in defending the wall against the Morattys, but the mate was bid also to watch and see whether the search was yet begun, and how far it was come. And he returning presently told us that the captain of the guard had sworn at him for an impudent rascal, vowing that his majesty the King of Portingale and the Brasils had soldiers enough for to defend his cities without seeking the aid of English braggarts, but with regard to the matter nearest our minds, the mate had seen naught of any search, and believed that it should not begin until the morrow. And this being confirmed by one of the crew of a country ship that came to buy bread from us, I lay in the cabin that night, and slept there peacefully.

Now in the morning, while we still lay at anchor in the river, an Englishman on board of a Venice ship that was departing, calls out to us that they had been searched already, and that the captain of the port’s boat was visiting every ship in turn, and commanding all on board to be mustered on deck. Then were Captain Freeman and I in some affright, for he desired neither to perjure himself by denying my presence on board, nor yet to yield me up to my enemies, so that he begged of me to resort to a disguise that he would show me.

“For,” says he, “my apprentice is dead since leaving Surat, so that his name is still on the ship’s books, and you must needs take his place.”

And telling this to the seamen, they did lend very willingly certain of their clothes, so that I was dressed in a sailor’s shirt and slops, the which Captain Freeman was at the pains to pad and stuff out with rags and suchlike, that I might not, said he, look so nearly like a scare-the-crows. And because my close-cropped hair should have betrayed me in a moment, he brought out a great periwig that he was wont to wear to church when on shore, and hacked and jagged with his knife at the curls thereof until it was as untidy and ragged as a ship-boy’s hair was like to be, and so put it on my head. And I dare to say that the good man has that periwig yet, laid up among his chiefest treasures, and shows it with great pride to his grandchildren for the memorial of a marvellous deliverance. And next, because my hands was white and soft from so long idleness, he bid me dip them in the tar-bucket, and with tar and other such things besmeared my face and neck. Then he bade me call myself by the name of Samuel Needham of Deptford (this was the dead apprentice), and so sent me to the galley to wash the dishes for the cook.

Now almost before all this was done, we saw the Dutch ship boarded that lay next us, and her crew mustered and questioned, but finding nothing on board of her, they came on to us. And mounting the side, I trembled greatly when I saw them, for beside the captain of the port, in all his armour and feathers, there was there the _alcaide_ of the Inquisition and one of his fellows, wearing those ghostly black gowns and hoods I have before mentioned. Now when these stood on the deck, and we were called to muster before them, my heart failed me, so that I stood looking upon them from the shelter of the galley, a dish-clout in my hand, and unable to move through fear. Then our good captain, seeing me thus astounded, did send a seaman for to fetch me forth, and finding me still gazing upon the visitors, gave me a blow on the head that sent me reeling, and bade me leave staring at the gentlemen, and go back to my work when I had answered to my name. And at this the Portugals laughed mightily, and counselled him to get a better apprentice, and so read out the names of the men, that all answered in their turn, and allowed us to depart. And after this great escape I thanked God, and wondered what could now hurt me, since I was delivered from so pressing danger. Truly (says I to myself), if I have the like good fortune in my adventures in the time to come, not Ferdinando Mendez Pinto himself will near match my traveller’s tales.

And all being now ready, we weighed our anchor, and the Boscobel stood down the river. Now when we come abreast of the fort that is called Marmagoun, and again of those four forts that guard the mouth of the river, my heart was in my mouth for fear, for (thought I), what if they have discovered our trick, and should be preparing to sink us with their cannons? But by good fortune, no such evil hap befell us, though I saw the captain look pale and fearful so long as we were under the guns of the forts. But when we were once gat past ’em, and steering for the south upon a favouring breeze, his countenance waxed cheerful once more, and he whistled lustily while he tramped to and fro upon the deck. Then coming to me, who was gazing with a joy and gratitude I had little thought ever to have the chance to feel, upon the disappearing of the stately towers and marble palaces of that most wicked and cruel city, he bade me lay aside that disguise I wore, and dress myself more seemly in such clothes as he should lend me. And this I did the more gladly that the seaman’s clothes I wore were not at all to my liking neither for appearance nor yet for comfort. And having put on a spare suit of the good skipper’s, I walked up and down upon the deck with him, and as we walked I asked of him whether he had heard aught touching my father since my starting for Goa, or no.

“Why,” says he in answer, “I ha’ heard something, but not much. For Mr Martin told me, one day when as he and I was speaking together concerning you, that he had wrote to Sir Harry Carlyon telling him of the misfortune that had overtook his son, and reminding him that ’twas possible he might never see you more, but there come such an answer as surprised him.”

“And pray, what was that?” says I.

“Why, sir, ’twas to say that the good gentleman knew that his son was engaged as he had bid him, and doing his best to fulfil the plan he had set before him, and that he should therefore come to no harm, nor would Sir Harry believe the same of him until he had spoke with one that had seen it.”

“Methinks there an’t many fathers that would speak thus,” said I, “and even with them, how seldom should their confidence in God be thus signally justified!”

“Ay,” says Captain Freeman, “’twas a narrow escape, Master Ned, and not even your good father’s trust in the integrity of your cause should maybe have availed to uphold him had he known how little was between you and death.”

“Tell me,” says I, “how you compassed my deliverance, for I know nothing but that ’twas done by means of the warning of Father Theodorus.”

“Why,” says he, “having heard him speak, we come back to the ship in great grief and heaviness, for no man could think to devise any plan for the saving you, save that the boatswain, that was over deep in his liquor, would fain have had us storm the Holy House and release all the prisoners there, and not you only. But the rest, of their own selves, saw that this was beyond our powers, and could only lead to our destruction as well as yours. Then as we went down to the ship, there fell in with us an Englishman, that is brother to my mate, and clerk to a trader in Goa, one that hath journeyed through all the Portuguese Indies, and seen many marvellous things. And chiefly he spake to us touching the Morattys, how prodigious fierce they are, and how warlike, and that the Portugals and their Indians here do fear ’em as the very devil, so that ’tis said the shadow of one Moratty will put to flight three Portugals. Likewise he told us that one of their captains was took prisoner a month ago and brought into Goa, and that their king, Seva Gi, as they call him, had sworn that he would take the Viceroy himself and hold him to ransom if so be as this his servant wan’t given up to him unharmed. And he said moreover that the Indians was saying that they had seen the spies of the Morattys creeping round about the city o’ nights more than once of late, but no credence was given to ’em, these Indians being timid and fearful in their minds. Now all this gave to us much food for thought, and so back to the ship, where we spent full half the night in making out our plan. And in the morning, having consented together upon what we should do, we left only some three or four men with the ship, and went upon our appointed ways. For I, with all the stoutest of the seamen, went to the burning-place, and there set ourselves in array, or as I might say, in ambush, close to that stake the priest had told us was yours, and waited there until the procession was arrived. But the mate, with four or five of the seamen, went and hired certain lads and men of the baser sort, such as would stick at nothing that was to earn ’em money, and ask no questions withal. And going outside the city with these, and waiting until the time was come for the burning, he bid ’em do even as he did, and rushed from the plantations into the road, crying, ‘Seva Gi! Seva Gi and the Morattys!’ Which when the multitude heard, that was come in for to see the sight, they were seized with fear, and rushed the other way into the town, crying out that the Morattys were coming. And thus, what with the men the mate had with him, and those he hired, and the crowd all crying out at once, the alarm was well spread, and you know how that in the panic terror and confusion we brought you away.”

“But what of the Morattys?” I asked.

“Ah, that I can’t tell,” says he. “I can scarce believe now that the devil raised ’em up, for to punish us for our false news, but that was the thought in my mind, seeing ’em at first. Howsoever it be, they took back their captain, that, as I heard from the skipper of the Dutch ship, was prisoned only in a block-house by the river, and I don’t know whether they have the more reason to thank us, or we them, for their coming. Yet tis now my belief that those tales of the Indians concerning spies and suchlike were true, and that the Morattys was hid in the plantations (it being a feast-day, and no work done), with the intent to fall upon the city that night, but that our men’s coming and crying disturbed ’em and made ’em see they were as well make what they might from the tumult. But I tell you, Master Ned, when I found they was truly there, you might have knocked me down with a feather, so astonished was I to behold ’em.”

“’Twas a mighty strange escape,” says I.

“Ay,” says he, “and a doubly lucky one, since it gives me your company, sir, on my voyage. And this I may say, that you need not to grieve over the interruption to your sojourning in Goa, for I can speak the Portuguese as well as most men, and you should by rights have learned something on’t during these three years, so that we will speak it together, if you so desire it. And moreover, sir, in so far as I have any skill, whether in matters touching cargoes and merchandises, or in things pertaining to the sea and the winds and the sailing of a ship, ’tis all at your service, and I shall account it an honour to impart to you of the same. And so long as it shall please you to abide on board of my ship, so long shall it please me if you will mess with me and share the cabin, and there must be no word said of passage-money, for the favour of your company answers that.”

I could not make a fitting answer to an offer made with so much delicacy and kindness, but I grasped my good friend by the hand, assuring him that I counted myself only too highly favoured, that I should enjoy the happiness of a voyage with him, and begged of him to teach me whatsoever he knew. And this pleasing him, as I was well assured it should (for I never met a seaman yet that did not love to teach others out of his own skill and experience), we agreed that I should be considered as supercargo, and I was thus entered on the ship’s books, instead of in the name of Samuel Needham of Deptford. And ’twas thus that I embarked upon a voyage that bid fair to be one of the happiest times of my life, but yet led me into grievous sorrow and peril, by the will of God, and as I cannot but think, by the hard disposition of man as well. But that you may understand my meaning in saying this, I must needs explain myself.

For there was on board of the Boscobel a seaman named Darrell, an ancient person, and one that had travelled in many seas and was much looked up to by Captain Freeman and the rest. And this man I was wont to hear arguing and exhorting his fellows with great diligence, but what he said to ’em I never troubled myself to learn, thinking that he was but declaring to them the perils and dangers through which he had passed in his many voyages. But one day, coming near where Darrell was discoursing to the rest, I saw that he had a great Bible upon his knee, and listening, heard him as it were preaching. Now this in itself stirred my mind, but when I heard his words, I began to be very wrathful. For the fellow was speaking most boldly and naughtily against his majesty the king and all his court, and declaring that such a sink of iniquity had ought to be swept away from off the face of the earth, and that before God should destroy the whole nation by reason on’t. And this I could by no means stomach, that a mean person of this sort should set up himself as a judge over the king and the nobility, and stepping before him, I bade him speak to his fellows of their own sins, but to leave his majesty’s alone.

“Ay so,” saith he, regarding me sternly, “that is what you and your like are alway wont to say, Master Carlyon. _Prophesy unto us smooth things_, say naught, though vice sit in high places, and Popery go unrebuked, yea, encouraged. But shall we say naught? shall we hold our peace? Han’t this keeping silence brought upon us already two of the Lord’s sore judgments, namely, the sword of the Dutch and the pestilence? and shall the other two on ’em be long delayed? Nay, sir, for so long as life be in me will I be among those that sigh and that cry for the abominations that are done in the land, until the Lord come to our help and drive out from before us that evil family once more and for ever.”

“Do you dare speak thus of your king’s house?” asked I.

“I do, sir, even of that wicked and bloody house of Stewart,[80] that is drunk with the blood of the saints and of the martyrs of Jesus. ’Twas an evil day when it returned among us, and God send that it may soon leave us again.”

“Are you so bold as to desire another rebellion?” I cried.

“Is rebellion worse than all that passes in England now?” asked he.

“But sure it an’t any concernment of yours,” says I. “You are here, and may stay away until there be a king to your mind.”

“Whence shall he come?” cried the old man. “One there was, even in this wicked family, in whom some good thing was found towards the God of Israel, and he was took away from the evil to come. Who is there beside?”

“But who is he of whom you speak?” I asked him.

“The men of this world called him Henry, Duke of Gloucester, but to us he was the young Josias, raised up for to destroy the idols of his fathers and the tombs of their false priests. But the Lord intended the overthrow of the house of Stewart, and left to it only those that to the wickedness of their fathers would add yet more.”

“Man,” says I, “you are prodigious bold to speak thus impudently of the royal house. I thank God that I and mine have never ceased to uphold his majesty’s cause, and will do so still. But ’tis you and your like that have brought God’s judgments upon Britain by that shameful deed of slaying the Lord’s anointed, that blessed martyr the late king.”

“Nay,” said he, “I had no hand in the well-merited death of that bloody and deceitful man, for I was far away from England at that time,--and even had I been at home, I don’t know that I had dared to counsel the taking of his life.”

“But ’tis to that point that your opinions lead you,” said I.

“Maybe,” says he, “but men should lead their opinions, not be led by ’em. And had I been then in England, and not aboard the good ship Covenant (Captain Godly-Fear Johnson, master), a-sailing the seas with that fleet whereof Colonel Blake took the command not long thereafter----”

“How?” says I, “did you sail with Blake?” For in very truth I had heard much concerning this famous admiral and obstinate rebel, and was minded to hear more. But this old man Darrell was not inclined to further my desires.

“Ay,” says he, “I sailed with Blake, sure enough; and look you, Master Carlyon, there was a ship and a ship’s company for you! Worship publicly conducted mornings and evenings, and all day of a Sabbath any man that felt himself moved thereto might open the Scriptures and exhort the rest. There was some difference betwixt free spiritual exercise of this sort, and the skipper here, reading on the Sabbath-day from the Prayer-book and the Homily against Rebellion!” This he said with a prodigious scorn.

“Nay,” said I, “doubtless he considered the homily as more profitable to you than the exercise you would prefer.”

But at this the old man waxed very wroth, and rose up and left me, saying that I was no better than a scoffer, and that Captain Freeman was yet in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity, and that ’twas not for him to judge what were profitable or not.

“What preacher of sedition have you on board here, captain?” says I, when I saw my friend next. “I looked not to find pestilent sectaries aboard the Boscobel.”

“’Tis old Substitution Darrell you would say,” said he. “A marvellous gift of exhortation he hath, and would sit up all the night arguing, so long as his fellows would hear him, and longer. But he is our best hand, and so staunch in his duty and punctual in the performing on’t as no one would ever believe. I have been near him in a storm, when all thought our last hour was come, but he was as cheerful as you may see him now. ’Twas one of his conditions of service that I should suffer him to expound the Scriptures to the rest of the crew, so long as he and they desired, and the Company’s occasions took no damage thereby, and I have heard him discourse so movingly concerning the love of God as that I was fain to depart so as he might not see me weep.”

“But sure you an’t at one with him in his opinions?” I asked.

“Nay,” says the skipper. “Darrell has told me once and again that I am in Babylon, by the which, as I take it, he signifieth the Church of England, and bids me come out therefrom, saying that God hath sent to me by his means for to warn me concerning my danger. And I seem to him to be a wilful sinner, thus contemning this saving grace. But yet, when I was once took sick with that evil disease of the plague of Egypt, Darrell stayed beside me for to tend me when all others fled from the very sight of me; yea, he also read to me divers most comfortable promises from his Bible, and in very deed saved my life. Yet he hath his strange points, for he holds to certain of the doctrines of that outlandish sect of the Fifth Monarchy Men, that will have it we are all Jews.”

“Doubtless he is mad concerning one or two points,” says I. “In fine, captain, I had rather that you had him always of your company than I.”

And so we, laughing, to dinner. But I was not yet done with this old man Darrell. For we were beset, as it chanced, on this voyage of ours, with many odious calms and contrary and baffling winds, so that we were sore impeded in our going. Then on the occasion of one of these calms the old man addressed himself to me once more.

“I fear lest I failed in my duty to you, sir, the t’other day,” says he, “for ’twas in my heart to declare to you divers inconsistencies in your walk and conversation,[81] and I refrained myself from so doing.”

“You were better do it now, then,” said I, somewhat angry that he asked no pardon for his presuming, and yet diverted by his words. He looked upon me sadly enough.

“Sir,” said he, “when you come on board I looked upon you as one whom the Lord had rid of great danger and peril that you might show forth His glory. But since we have left Goa I have observed in you a levity and a hardness of heart that hath given me much concernment. You have showed no signs of grace, and have displayed much sympathy with the wicked and a culpable laxity with regard to the Papistry and lewdness that abound in our unhappy country. I fear, young sir, that there is a grievous fall before you. The pride of your heart hath maybe kept you firm when your Protestant faith was threatened with force, but the devil can work with promises and allurements as well as with threatenings. If you be so minded, I am willing to show you more particularly wherein I think you err, to your profiting in the future.”

Now I won’t deny that I was much nettled by the boldness of his words, neither anticipating in my youth and vainglory that fall whereof he spake, nor yet foreseeing that in my later life I should confess that both in his rebukes and his prophecies this old man was wiser than I thought him, but still I made shift to answer him peaceably.

“My good man,” says I, “I have thanked God daily for my deliverance, and prayed of Him to keep me staunch in the future. What more I can do I don’t see, having an eye to the difference between your age and mine, which would make it strange were I in all things like unto you.”

“Nay,” says he, “I have known many young persons that showed forth in their lives the fruits of grace in a soberness of walk and a meekness of carriage that edified all about ’em. But of these you an’t one, and rejecting the counsel I offer you, will go your way to your own destruction.”

And with that he departed, and I, as you may well suppose, sought not his company overmuch thereafter. But it so chanced that time and the course of events placed it in his power to hurt me, though I don’t say, nor yet believe, that this was with his intention. For we were now passing into the Sea of Bengall, and having been so greatly delayed by the wind’s being contrary to us, were arriving at what they call in these seas the _hurracan_ season, that is, the time when these tempestuous winds do most commonly use to blow. And although during some time we met with no _hurracan_, yet were we assailed and buffeted by divers fierce gales, that did much damage to the upper works of the ship, and served still further to delay us in our voyage. And on the account of these things I did condole with the captain, I myself also finding the delay irksome to me, but thought nothing in especial touching the gales until I heard one day the old seaman Darrell, that sat with his Bible on his knees, say to his fellows--

“It may be that aboard this ship also we have a Jonah among us,” and it seemed to me that he cast a look my way. Now I am ashamed to tell that at first I could not recall what Jonah should have to do with our present plight, but anon the old man himself come up to me, saying--

“Have you considered these gales that meet us so often of late, Master Carlyon?”

“I have,” said I, “since indeed they keep me back when I desire to reach Bengall, but what of that?”

“I don’t know,” says he, “what your past life may have been, but I counsel you to try yourself and see whether you have left any sins unrepented or unamended, for whose sake God is even now punishing this ship and all that are in her.”

“And if so,” said I, “am I to throw myself overboard?”

“Nay,” says he, “that must be settled by the decision of all of us, together with your own conscience.”

“But prythee tell me,” says I, “why you should single me out to be the cause of your misfortunes?”

“What but misfortune has befell us ever since our taking you on board?” asked he. “I dare not say that it wan’t the Lord’s will you should be released from the hands of the Inquisition, but if He did so intend it He is trying the faith of His servants very sorely.”

“I think you will scarce suffer for a deed of mercy,” said I. “I have done many sinful acts, as I must sorrowfully confess, but I can’t charge myself with any such unrepented crime as you speak of, nor do I perceive why you should all fasten upon me to be your Jonah, and no other person in the ship.”

But in spite of this discourse I had with him, the old man held very firm to his opinion, and the gales continuing, the other seamen began to believe him, so that I saw them casting black looks at me several times. The captain also, as I perceived, was sad and anxious of countenance, and I saw that he had his pistols ready charged in his cabin. ’Twas not until long time afterwards that I learned that the crew had demanded of him to set me on shore in some convenient place, for to live or die as I might, that their ill-fortune might thus be reversed, and that he refusing, they were wellnigh ready to fall upon him. But at last there come a favouring breeze, and for two days we sailed northward with good speed. But on the evening of the second day was there a mighty strange sunset, all of a fiery and copperish red, and as we looked upon it, there sailed between us and it, from the side where the land lay, a whole fleet of great ships, whereat we marvelled greatly.

“That,” says Captain Freeman, “must needs be the Dutch fleet that is besieging the Frenchmen in St Thomas,[82] for there an’t no other that I have heard on in these waters. But why are they putting out to sea? Sure they, coming from the shore, must see signs of an _hurracan_ that we can’t perceive.”

“But are there Frenchmen in these seas?” says I.

“Ay so,” says he, “and at Surat too, where indeed their Factory is better stocked with _mounseers_ than with cash. But what troubles me now is the putting forth of these Hollanders. I dare be bound we shall have an _hurracan_ upon us before the night be over.”

And away he went to take counsel with the mate for the better preparing of the ship, whose head was quickly turned out to sea and away from the land, and divers changes made in the ordering of her spars and rigging, such as after this long lapse of time I won’t try to recount, lest I awaken laughter by my ignorance. But this I observed--viz., that every man looked upon me with scowls and hatred, regarding me as the cause of this new misfortune, and my friend the captain perceived this also, for he bade me fasten myself with cords to a part of the bulwarks close beside him, and remain with him through all that might chance to happen.

Now by this time the wind was whistling and moaning most pitifully in our rigging, and the light of the moon and stars was waxed pale and sickly. Looking from the deck towards the west, in which quarter the land lay, we could see as it were a great wall of blackness resting there, that then began to move, and advanced towards us. The air was prodigious hot, as though it came from the mouth of a furnace, so that until I had asked Captain Freeman, it seemed to me that the ship herself must needs be on fire. Then almost before our crew could furl all the sails, there come down upon us a great and mighty wind, so fierce that the ship only missed being turned over thereby; and this wind howling and roaring, there come also great flashes of lightning, now in one place, now in another, faster than a man could count, and brighter also than he could behold without shading of his eyes, but no thunder. The sea also wrought mightily, the waves being very great, and black channels of waters between, most tremendous to behold. And moreover the direction of the wind did so chop and change as we might almost believe we were carried round in a circle. And this continuing, and the waves rising higher and higher, Captain Freeman gave command that the masts should be cut away, the ship now rolling very much, and their heaviness imperilling her.

Now one of the masts, as it fell, brake away a part of the bulwarks close by where I was, so that I untied myself and fastened the cords again to a certain great spar that was held fast on the deck by a rope that belonged to it. And by this time the storm was so terrible that men had given up all hope, and I saw, by the flash of the lightning, old Darrell praying and calling upon God, though I might not hear aught that he said, from the noise of the waves and the wind. But in the light of the same flash I saw another seaman that shook his fist against me, and shouted certain words that I could not hear. Then I saw a greater wave than any before coming upon us, and I shut my eyes and gripped fast hold of my spar. Though the tumult all around was so great, yet I heard the sound of that great hill of water bursting over the ship, and then I felt myself swept away, with the spar to which I was tied, into the sea. But whether the rope that held the spar was broke by the prodigious force of the water, or cut by that seaman that shouted at me, I have never been able certainly to discover.