LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume V, Issue 525, 23 February 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE JOHN HARRIS, ( Concluded .) ‘ ‘ See what ?’ says the gunner ; * those are the crew-boys i’ ‘Well, sir, it was no use: they’d done us for that time. Over we goes, and rows back to our ship, and the officers goes up to the Cap’n with their story. Well, the men was rare and wild ; them as had been with me in the boat had told the rest, and they all begins a-hurging o’ me to go up to the Cap’n and tell him my suspicions. * * Quiet/ says I, ‘ you let the Cap’n alone; he’ll send for me when he wants me.’ ‘ Sure enough, there was a ’vie and cry for me presently, and in I goes to the Cap’n, ‘Well, Pembridge/ says he, ‘and what do you say now ?’ ‘ ‘ Say, sir? Why, she’s full on ’em.’ “ Well/ says he, and ho looks terrible perplexed, ‘ you’re only a seaman, and these are hofiicers. What are the reasons o’ your suspicions, Pembridge ?’ * ‘ Well, sir/ says I, ‘ I’m that sure, that, with the Cap’n’s leave, I’ll lay four pounds —and that’s all I’ve got left—against any o’ these gentl’m, that she’s right full. Why, sir, I’ve got three causes of suspicions. In the first place, didn’t you notice, when you and me went aboard, or rather when you went aboard and I stayed below, that she’d plenty o’ crew boys ?’ ‘ ‘ Well/ says our skipper, ‘ I’ve heard that, and these gentlemen say the crew boys was accounted for ’

* * Cap’n,’ says I, ‘in course I can’t swear to knowin’ them darkies one from another, but my belief is them weren’t crew boys as we saw just now. Then, sir, she’s got all her water-casks on deck, full, not below, sir. Why’s that for ? Then, sir, remember as well as I do, that she had two anchors Avhen you went aboard—now she’s got but one. Why’s that, sir ? because she saw us a-comin’ in the dark, and she slipped her anchor to get off quicker. Why did she do that for ?’

* The Cap’n he was terrible perplexed, but instead of going aboard himself along o’ me that same afternoon, he says he’d go down to Ambrosette. He knew there was a large Nova Scotia barque lying there, which must have seen all that had been going on, and he’d make inqxiiries. Now, here, sir, was the folly. As it was, it was a dead calm. We could move along because of our steam, but she lay as dead as a log; but, thinks I to myself, as we steams off, if a breeze springs up in the night, we shan’t see no more of the John Harris. By the time we gets down to Ambrosette it'had got late, and the Cap’n wouldn’t let me go aboard the Nova Scotia. He said they would all be abed, and I must wait till daylight. * It was an awful sort o’ risk, as you know, sir, to lay alongside all night, and to feel if a breeze sprung up we hadn’t the ghost of a chance left ; for I knowed fast enough, if once the John Harris got a fair start the game was up. ‘ You may be sure I never slept a wink all night, and as soon as there was a glimmer of what might be called daylight, down I goes to the Cap’n, rouses him up, and gets his leave to go aboard. The Cap’n said perhaps they might refuse to give informations, and in that case I was to overhaul their log-book, which in course, as you knows, sir, they hadn’t no right to refuse. Well, I goes aboard, sir, and there was no one up, only one seaman. I asked him if he’d seen the John Harris down at Ambrosette lately, and he said ‘Yes, till the evening before yesterday ;’ but when I comes to further questions, he declines to hanswer, cos, you see, sir, the Dahomey people would have nothink to do with them, if so be they gived informations. ‘ ‘ Well,’ says I, ‘ can I see your logbook ?’

“ See it and welcome,’says he. ‘ And accordingly I looks, and finds, * Brigantine, name John Harris; had connection with twenty canoes.’ ‘ ‘All right,’ thinks I, and didn’t I get back quick to the Spitfire, ‘ ‘ All right, sir,’ I says to the Cap’n, and tells him of the canoes, and back we steams

tromenjious fast, and after some time we catches sight of her. She’d moved a little, but the calm lay deader than ever. * The Cap’n he hails her again, and. the skipper, I s’pose, he thinks as; how it’s all up now. ‘ ‘ It’s no good, Cap’n,’ says he,. *jf 6u can come and take ’em ; I’ve got five hundred for you.’ ‘Now the bo’s’un and I had had a talk as we was steaming up from Ambrosette, and he said we should miss her after all, he was positive. * * Not a bit of it,’ says I. * I’ll lay you a pound that we board her and take her by twelve o’clock.’

‘ * Done,’ says the bo’s’un. . 3 * The Cap’n he tells us to man the pinnace and the long-boat, and all the rest of ’em, and to come with him to the ship. * Well, as soon as we goes aboard, the skipper he tarns sulky, and he says — 'c ‘‘ I don’t know what you mean ; you > came aboard yesterday, and no fault found. What the doosc do you mean by poking * here again? You have been a-taking bin-I formations,’ . ‘ ‘No;’ says our Cap’n, ‘but our suspicions is strong agin you, and I must open your hatches.’ ' ‘ Oh ! if you’d seen the way the skipper stormed ; and as to that there second mate, Thomas, he threatened to take my life if " I stayed aboard. ‘ * You stop that,’ says I, for he swore terrible hard; his hoaths was tremenjioua ;. I. can swear, but I never heard sich hoaths 1 > ‘ ‘ Lookye here,’ says he, with a string s of ’em, * I’ve got somethink as ’nil settle you easy.’ ‘ And he pulls out a six-barrel revohreit ‘ ‘‘Now keep quiet,’ says I ; .‘l’m 7 not, here to be threatened by you ; two can do that,’ and I pulls out my revolver; for we’re allowed to carry ’em, sir, on suchlike dooty; ‘ and perhaps I shall get first chance.’

‘Just then the Oap’n he beckons our carpenter up out of the boat. ‘ Bring up your hax,’ says he, * we’ll soon have the ’atches open;’ For they fastens ’em down, sir, as soon as they’ve got the darkies safe aboard.

* ‘ I,protest agin it/ said the skipper. * ‘No need for that/ whispers Freeman to me, * just you draw them bolts.’ * Lor’ bless you, sir ! the minute I drawed the bolts and upped with thfl*fiatches, there they was, all with then' ninths hopen like so many young birds, a atfw m> for hair, you know, sir. * So the skipper he gives up then, and he says—- ‘ ‘ Well, Cap’n, didn’t I tell you I’d got five hundred for you ?’ * Well, I was for hauling down the flag, but the Cap’n he says to me, * You leave.it alone Jack ; let ’em do it theirselves, we’ll nab it presently.’ _ ' 7 ‘ Would you believe it, sir, they hauls it down on a sudden, and rolls it up with a couple o’ bolts in it, and chucks it overboard, just to prevent our getting it. * The skipper he says presently, * What are you going to do with me, Cap’n/ he says. ‘So the Cap’n asked where he’d like to go to, and he says ‘ Sierra Leone,’ and they all says ‘ Sierra Leone.’ e Well, we left some men in charge, and when we gets back to our ship (I ought to tell you, sir, that the flag was hauled down a quarter before twelve, so I won my fairly), I says to our skipper; * Cap’n/ I, ‘ you’ll excuse me speaking, but are you agoing to leave the skipper and them two big fellows o’ mates along, and only three of us 2 Why, sir, they’d circumwent us somehow, for they’ve got the doose’s own cunning.’ ‘‘You wait a bit/ said the Cap’n;_so he gives me and Corporal Best our instructions, and the rest of the men who was to go with us. ‘ As soon as Thomas sees me acoming’ up the ship’s side, he begins foamin’ at the mouth with fury, swearin’ the biggest of hoaths and agoin’ on terrible. *‘ We are a-goin’ to Sierra Leone/ says he—‘your skipper promised. What on airth are you come after ?’ and he begins at me again.

‘ ‘Marines,’ says I, ‘ jest point your muskets this way. Now, Mr Thomas,’ I says, ‘ my Cap’n knowed by the Lord the sort of fellow you was, and he told you that to keep you quiet; it you’re not quiet now at once, we’ll tie you neck and heels and send you adrift in one of them surf-boats. ’

‘ He was pretty quiet then, I can tell you, and we searched him and found a revolver and some doubleoons ; the orders was to strip ’em of everythink but their clothing and one doubleoon each; but Mr Walkiushaw he was with us, and he says, ‘ Oh, give him back his money ;’ they’re terribly soft, sir, those youngish young gentlemen, when they are soft. But directly we’d done with him—we didn’t give Thomas time to think —over he goes into one of the surf-boata ; and so with Freeman, and with all the rest except the skipper and the darkies. Ah! poor creeturs, when we went down among ’em it was hawful; they was penned as close as bees; the men one side, the women t’other, and all as they was born, sir, women as well as men. There was a Spanish driver among ’em, a brute of a fellow ; he’d got a great cowhide whip, and he’d been keeping of ’em quiet with it while we was on deck the first time, afraid they should ery out. Well, sir, I looked about and I found there was some bales of calico below. You see, sir, they strips ’em when they sends ’em aboard, ’cos their clothes is all old King Dahomy’s, and they takes these bales of calico to dress ’em up in afore they lands ’em ; so I whips out my knife and I cuts off good sized pieces of the cloth, and I chucks em in among the women. Bless you, the poor souls, they wraps theirselves up as quick as you could say * knife,’ and some of ’em dresses up their children in it too. The men didn’t seem to care much for it, but the women fell a cryin’. I didn’t know before they was so much human feelin’ in them, darkies.

‘ Well, sir, we got them all safe to Sierra Leone except three which died off ; but bless you, sir, we took care of ’em; we had tubs of water on deck, and made all on ’em take a dip every morning; and we gave ’em plenty of fresh hair. ‘Well, sir, the end of it was the John. Harris was given up to the proper authorities and sold, and my share out of that therejob was forty-seven pounds and sixpence; but then you see, sir, she’d led us a tremenjious dance before we catched her.’ ‘Thank you, Pembridge,’ I said; ‘that’s< a very interesting story.’

‘ Well, sir, the best of is, it happened; so there aint a word of faction in it.’ K. S, M.