The Buccaneer - A Tale

"Gold--which you have had, in all its gorgeous and glowing abundance."

"'Two'n't do," retorted the other, in a painfully subdued tone; "there

is much it cannot purchase. Am I not at this moment a banned and a

blighted man--scouted alike from the board of the profligate Cavalier,

and the psalm-singing Puritan of this most change-loving country? And

one day or another I may be hung up at the yard-arm of a

Commonwealth--Heaven bless the mark!--a Commonwealth cruiser!--or scare

crows from a gibbet off Sheerness or Queenborough, or be made an example

of for some act of piracy committed on the high seas!"

"But why commit such acts? You have wherewithal to live

respectably--quietly."

"Quietly!" repeated the Skipper; "look ye, Master--I crave your

pardon--Sir Robert Cecil; as soon could one of Mother Carey's chickens

mount a hen-roost, or bring up a brood of lubberly turkies, as I, Hugh

Dalton, master and owner of the good brigantine, that sits the waters

like a swan, and cuts them like an arrow--live quietly, quietly, on

shore! Santa Maria! have I not panted under the hot sun off the

Caribbees? Have I not closed my ears to the cry of mercy? Have I not

sacked, and sunk, and burnt without acknowledging claim or country? Has

not the mother clasped her child more closely to her bosom at the

mention of my name? In one word, for years have I not been a BUCCANEER?

And yet you talk to me of quietness!--Sir, sir, the soul so steeped in

sin has but two resources--madness, or the grave; the last even I shrink

from; so give me war, war, and its insanity."

"Cannot you learn to fear the Lord, and trade as an honest man?"

Dalton cast a look of such mingled scorn and contempt on his companion,

that a deep red colour mounted to his cheek as he repeated, "Yes! I ask,

cannot you trade as an honest man?"

"No! a curse on trade: and I'm not honest," he replied fiercely.

"May I beg you briefly to explain the object of your visit?" said the

Baronet at last, after a perplexing pause, during which the arms of the

Buccaneer were folded on his breast, and his restless and vigilant eyes

wandered round the apartment, flashing with an indefinable expression,

when they encountered the blue retreating orbs of Sir Robert.

"This, then: I require a free pardon from Old Noll, not not only for

myself, but for my crew. The brave men, who would have died, shall live,

with me. As a return for his Highness's civility, I will give up all

free trade, and take the command of a frigate, if it so please him."