Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 67, No. 416, June 1850

All of a sudden, fairly between the brig and the frigate, I fancied I caught a glimpse for one moment of another twinkle; then it was out again, and I had given it up, when I was certain I saw it plainly once more, as well as a third time, for as short a space as before. We were off a cove in the coast, inside Prosperous Bay, where a bight in the rocks softened the force of the surf, not far from the steep break where one of these same narrow gullies came out – a good deal short of the shore, indeed, but I knew by this time it led up somewhere toward the Longwood side. Accordingly the idea struck me of a plan to set agoing, whether I hit upon the right place or not; if it was the schooner, she would be coming down right from windward, on the look-out for a signal, as well as for the spot to aim at: the thing was to lure her boat ashore there before their time, seize her crew and take the schooner herself by surprise, as if we were coming back all right; since signal the ships we couldn't, and the schooner would be wary as a dolphin.

No sooner said than done. I steered cautiously for the cove, fearfully though the swell bore in, breaking over the rocks outside of it; and the reefer and I had to spring one after the other for our lives, just as the bowman prized her off into the back-wash. As for the cutter, it would spoil all to keep her off thereabouts; and I knew if a boat did come in of the kind I guessed, why she wouldn't lay herself out for strength of crew. Snelling and I were well armed enough to manage half a dozen, if they fancied us friends, so I ordered the men to pull clear off for an hour, at least, leaving fair water. In fact there were sentries about the heights, I was aware, if they could have heard or seen us; but the din of the surf, the dark, and the expectation of the thing set us both upon our mettle; while I showed the boat's lantern every now and then, like the light I had noticed, such as the Channel smugglers use every thick night on our own coast. I suppose we might have waited five or ten minutes when the same twinkle was to be caught, dipping dark down into the swell again, about opposite the cove: next we had half an hour more – every now and then we giving them a flash of the lantern, when suddenly the reefer said he saw oars glisten over a swell, which he knew weren't man-o'-war's strokes, or else the fellows ought to have their grog stopped. I had the lantern in my hand, slipping the shade once more, and the other to feel for my cutlass hilt, when the mid gave a cry behind me, and I turned just in time to see the dark figure of a Black spring off the stones at our backs. One after another, three or four more came leaping past me out of the gloom – the Frenchman's red cap and his dark fierce face glared on me by the light of the lantern; and next moment it was down, with him and me in a deadly struggle over it in the thick black of the night. Suddenly I felt myself lose hold of him in the heave of the swell, washing away back off the rock; then something else trying to clutch me, when down I swept with the sea bubbling into my mouth and ears.

I came up above water again by the sheer force of the swell, as it seemed to me, plunging into the shore; with the choice, I thought, of either being drowned in the dark, or knocked to a jelly on the rocks; but out I struck, naturally enough, rising on the huge scud of the sea, and trying to breast it, though I felt it sweep me backwards at every stroke, and just saw the wide glimmer of it heave far and wide for a moment against the gloom of the cliffs behind. All at once, in the trough, I heard the panting of some one's breath near alongside of me, and directly after, I was caught hold of by the hair of the head, somebody else grabbing at the same time for my shoulder. We weren't half-a-dozen fathoms from the stranger's boat, the Blacks who had fallen foul of me swimming manfully together, and the boat lifting bow-on to the run of the sea, as her crew looked about for us by the light of their lantern. I had just got my senses enough about me to notice so much, when they were hauling me aboard; all four of the Negroes holding on with one hand by the boat's gunnel, and helping their way with the other; while the oars began to make for the light, which was still to be caught by fits, right betwixt those of the two cruisers, as the space widened slowly in the midst of them, standing out to sea. Scarce had I time to feel some one beside me as wet as myself, whether the reefer or the Frenchman I didn't know, when crash came another boat with her bows fairly down upon our gunwale, out of the dark. The spray splashed up betwixt us, I saw the glitter of the oar-blades, and heard Snelling's shrill voice singing out to "sink the villans, my lads – down with 'em – remember the second lieutenant!" The lantern in the French boat flared, floating out for a single instant amongst a wreck of staves and heads, bobbing wildly together on the side of a wave. One of my own men from the cutter pulled me by the cuff of the neck off the crest of it with his boat-hook, as it rose swelling away past, till I had fast grip of her quarter; the Blacks could be seen struggling in the hollow, to keep up their master's body, with his hands spread helplessly hither and thither above water. The poor devils' wet black faces turned so wistfully, in their desperation, toward the cutter, that I gasped out to save him. They kept making towards us, in fact, and the bowman managed to hook him at last, though not a moment too soon, for the next heave broke the unlucky wretches apart, and we lost sight of them; the cutter hanging on her oars till they had both him and me stowed into the stern-sheets, where the Frenchman lay seemingly dead or senseless, and I spitting out the salt water like a Cockney after a bathe.

"Why, Mister Snelling," said I, as soon as I came fully to myself, "I can't at all understand how I got into the water!" "Nor I either, sir," said he; "I'll be hanged, sir, if I didn't think it was a whirlwind of Niggers off the top of Diana's Peak, seeing I made out the very one we found there this afternoon – the four of them took you and this other gentleman up in their arms in a lump, as you were floundering about together, and took to the water like so many seals, sir!" I looked down into the Frenchman's face, where he lay stretched with his head back and his hair dripping. "Is he gone?" said I. "Well, sir," said the mid, who had contrived to light the lantern again, "I'm afraid he's pretty near it. Is he a friend of yours, sir? – I thought as much, by the way you caught him the moment you clapped eyes on each other, sir." "Silence, sirrah!" said I: "d'ye see anything of the light to seaward?" For a minute or two we peered over the swells into the dark, to catch the twinkle of the signal again, but to no purpose; and I began to think the bird was flown. All of a sudden, however, there it was once more, dipping as before beyond the heave of the sea, and between the backs of it, sliding across the open space, with the blind side to the cruisers. "Hallo, my lads!" said I, quickly, and giving myself another shake as I seized the tiller, "give way seaward – stretch your backs for ten minutes, and we have her!" We were pulling right for the spot, when the light vanished, but a show of our lantern brought it gleaming fairly out again, till I could even catch glimpse by it of some craft or other's hull, and the iron of one boom-end, rising over the swells. "Bow-oar, there!" whispered I; "stand by, my lad, and look sharp!" "Hola!" came a short sharp hail over the swells; "d'où venez-vous?" "Oui, oui!" I sung out boldly, through my hand, to cover the difference as much as possible; then a thought occurred to me, recollecting the French surgeon's words on board this very craft the first time we saw her – "De la cage de l'Aigle" – I hailed – "bonne fortune, mes amis!" "C'est possible! c'est possible, mon capitaine!" shouted several of the schooner's crew, jumping upon her bulwarks, "que vous apportez lui-même?" We were pulling for her side as lubberly as possible, all the time – a man ran up on her quarter with a coil of line ready to heave – but still the main boom of the schooner was already jibing, her helm up, and she under way; they seemed half doubtful of us, and another moment might turn the scales. "Vite, vite!" roared I, choosing my French at hap-hazard. "Oui, oui, jettez votre corde – venez au lof, mes amis!" – luff, that was to say. I heard somebody aboard say it was the American – the schooner came up in the wind, the line whizzing off her quarter into our bows, and we came sheering down close by her lee quarter, grinding against her bends in the surge, twenty eager faces peering over at us in the confusion; when I sung out hoarsely to run for brandy and hot blankets, as he was half-drowned. "Promptement – promptement, mes amis!" shouted I, and as quickly there was a rush from her bulwarks to bring what was wanted, while Snelling and I made dash up her side followed by the men, cutlass in hand. Three minutes of hubbub, and as many strokes betwixt us, when we had driven the few that stood in our way pell-mell down the nearest hatchway. The schooner was completely our own.

We hoisted up the cutter, with the French captain still stretched in the stern-sheets – hauled aft the schooner's head-sheets, let her large mainsail swing full again, and were soon standing swiftly out toward the light at the frigate's masthead.

When the Hebe first caught sight of us, or rather heard the sound of the schooner's sharp bows rushing through the water, she naturally enough didn't know what to make of us. I noticed our first luff's sudden order to clear away the foremost weather-gun, with the rush of the men for it; but my hail set all to rights. We hove-to off her weather quarter, and I was directly after on board, explaining as simply as possible how we had come to get hold of a French craft thereabouts in such a strange fashion.

Accordingly, you may fancy the surprise at James Town in the morning, to see the Hebe standing in with her prize; let alone the governor's perfect astonishment at suspecting some scheme to carry off Napoleon, apparently, so far brought to a head. The upshot of it was, to cut this bit of my story short, he and the military folks would have it, at last, that there was nothing of the kind; but only some slaver from the African coast wanting to land a cargo, especially as there were so many Blacks aboard of her; and the Frenchman at once took the cue, the little Monsieur of a mate swearing he had been employed by several of the islanders, some months before, to bring them slaves. For my own part, all things considered, I had nothing to say; and, after some likelihood of a shine being kicked up about it at first, the matter was hushed up. However, the schooner was of course condemned in the mean time, as the Hebe's fair prize, till such time as the Admiralty Court at the Cape should settle it on our outward-bound voyage.

As the Hebe was to sail at once for India, the governor took the opportunity to send two or three supernumeraries out in the vessel along with us to the Cape of Good Hope, amongst whom was the Yankee botanist; and though, being in the frigate, I didn't see him, I made as sure as if I had it was my old shipmate Daniel.

Well, the morning came, when we weighed anchor from St James's Bay for sea, in company with the prize: it wasn't more than ten or eleven days since we had arrived in the Podargus, but I was as weary with the sight of St Helena as if I'd lived there a year. The frigate's lovely hull, and her taunt spars, spreading the square stretch of her white canvass sideways to the Trade, put new life into me: slowly as we dropped the peaks of the island on our lee-quarter, 'twas something to feel yourself travelling the same road as the Indiaman once more, with the odds of a mail coach, too, to a French diligence. What chance might turn up to bring us together, I certainly didn't see; but that night, when we and the schooner were the only things in the horizon, both fast plunging, close-hauled, on a fresh breeze, at the distance of a mile, I set my mind, for the first time, more at ease. "Luck and the anchors stowed!" thought I, "and hang all forethoughts!" I walked the weather quarterdeck in my watch as pleasantly as might be, with now and then a glance forward at Snelling, as he yarned at the fife-rail beside a groggy old mate, and at times a glimmer of the schooner's hull on our lee-beam, rising wet out of the dusk, under charge of our third lieutenant.

It was about a week afterwards, and we began to have rough touches of Cape weather, pitching away on cross seas, and handing our 'gallant-sails oftener of a night, that Lord Frederick said to me one evening, before going down to his cabin, "Mr Collins, I really hope we shall not find your Indiaman at Cape Town, after all!" "Indeed, Lord Frederick!" said I, respectfully enough; but it was the very thing I hoped myself. "Yes, sir," continued he; "as I received strict injunctions by Admiral Plampin to arrest Lieutenant Westwood if we fell in with her there, and otherwise, to send the schooner in her track, even if it were to Bombay." "The deuce!" I thought, "are we never to be done with this infernal affair?" "'Tis excessively disagreeable," continued the Captain, swinging his gold eye-glass round his finger by the chain, as was his custom when bothered, and looking with one eye all the while at the schooner. "A beautiful craft, by the way, Mr Collins!" said he, "even within sight of the Hebe." "She is so, my lord," said I; "if she had only had a sensible boatswain, even, to put the sticks aloft in her." "I say, Mr Collins," went on his lordship, musingly, "I think I have it, though – the way to get rid of this scrape!"

I waited and waited, however, for Lord Frederick to mention this; and to no purpose, apparently, as he went below without saying a word more about it.

PALACE THEATRICALS

A DAY-DREAM

I never heard, nor is it important, why my father, Major Von Degen, an old officer of the King's German Legion, resolved to have me educated in his native country, unvisited by him since boyhood, and supplanted in his affections, to all outward appearance, by the land he long had served and dwelt in, of whose daughters he had taken a wife, and in which he proposed to end his days. Be that as it may, at an early age I was sent from England to a town in the north of Germany, where I passed four years in the house of a worthy and kind-hearted professor, and which I quitted at the age of eighteen to proceed to the university of Heidelberg. For me, as for most young men, the gay, careless, light-hearted student-life, with its imaginary independence and fantastical privileges, its carouses of Rhenish wine and Bavarian beer, its harmless duels and mock-heroic festivals, at first had strong attractions. And when, after a certain number of joyously-kept terms and pleasant vacation rambles, university diversions began to pall, and I became a less constant attendant in the fencing hall and at the evening potations, I still was detained at Heidelberg – not by love of study, for to study, being destined to no profession, I little applied, but by the force of habit, by the charm of a delightful country, and, more particularly, by the agreeable society I found in a number of families resident in and around the town. Although but moderately attentive to the branches of learning usually pursued at a university, I was not altogether unmindful of my improvement. I busied myself with modern languages, exercised my pencil by sketching the surrounding scenery, and, above all, assiduously cultivated a tolerable talent for music. In this I was particularly successful. Enthusiastically fond of the art, gifted by nature with a good tenor voice, and having chanced upon an excellent instructor, I made rapid progress; and during the latter part of my residence at Heidelberg, no musical party or amateur concert for miles around was deemed complete without me.

I left the university in my five-and-twentieth year, and, after passing another twelvemonth in a tour through southern Europe, I was upon my way to England, when I paused for a day in the village of Mauseloch, capital of the Duchy of Klein-Fleckenberg – an independent and sovereign state of which geographers make little mention, and historians still less, but which is known, at least by name, to most persons who have travelled through those pleasant districts of central Germany watered by the Rhine and its tributaries. Those ignorant of its existence, and curious of its whereabout, will do well to consult the larger and more accurate maps of that country; upon which, greatly to the credit of the topographers, they will find it noted down, although its entire superficies is scarcely more extensive than that of the private park of more than one European monarch. Its population is perhaps equal to that of the Jews' quarter in Frankfort on the Maine, and its revenue would enable a private gentleman to live in tolerably good style in London or Paris. Its standing army, which, when seen upon parade, bears a strong resemblance to a sergeant's guard, greatly distinguished itself in the wars against Napoleon, sustained dreadful losses, and by its valour, as several patriotic Klein-Fleckenbergers have informed me, decided the fate of more than one hard-fought field. In most respects Klein-Fleckenberg differs so little from many other German principalities, duchies, landgraviates, &c. &c., that description is almost superfluous. In spring it is white with the blossoms of plum and pear, fruits which constitute no unimportant article of its consumption and commerce; it is celebrated for sour kraut; its pigs yield the best of sausages; it has half a dozen corn-fields and a hop-ground, and also a mineral-spring, whose waters, although not sufficiently renowned to attract strangers, annually work miraculous cures upon sickly natives. At the time I speak of, the reigning duke was Augustus IX., an amiable and easy-going prince, whose illustrious brows were more frequently bound with a velvet smoking-cap than with a golden diadem, and whose hand, in lieu of sceptre, usually carried a riding-whip, sometimes a fowling-piece. His mild sway was lightly borne by his loyal subjects, who failed not, each successive Sabbath, to pray for his welfare and preservation, and who, if they sometimes grumbled when called upon for the contributions destined to support his princely state, imputed blame only to the tax-gatherer, and never dreamed of attaching it to their benevolent and well-beloved sovereign.

The chapel of the ducal residence of Mauseloch was filled to the roof, when, upon a bright Sunday morning of the year 183 – , I entered and looked around for a vacant seat. Not one was to seen. More than one good-natured burgess screwed himself, as I passed near him, into the smallest possible compass, to try to make room for me, but on that sultry autumn morning I had too great regard both for my own comfort and that of others, to avail myself of the scanty space thus courteously afforded. In the whole church there literally was not a sitting vacant, and several persons seemed, by their attitude, to have resigned themselves to stand out the service. I hesitated whether to do the same or to leave the church, when somebody touched my arm, and on looking round I saw the precentor beckoning to me, and pointing to an empty stool behind the singing-desk. Glad of the offer, I at once installed myself amongst the choristers.

The extraordinary concourse in the church was not owing, as I afterwards learned, to any unwonted pious fervour of the Klein Fleckenbergers, but to the presence – for the first time after a visit of some weeks to a brother potentate – of the reigning duke and his duchess, and of their daughter the Princess Theresa. From my seat in the choir, I had a full view of these distinguished personages. The duke was a sleek elderly gentleman, with at least as much bonhomie as dignity in his bearing; his wife, with rather more of the starch of a petty German court, was yet a kindly-looking princess enough. But their daughter was a pearl of beauty. She seemed about twenty years of age, slender and graceful, with darker eyes and hair than are common amongst her countrywomen, and – but I shall not attempt to describe her. With all the advantages of ivory tablets and silken brushes, and the seven tints of the rainbow, it would need a cunning artist to do justice to her perfections; so it were absurd of me, a mere sketcher, with pen, paper, and an indifferent ink-bottle for sole materials, to attempt to portray them. I will therefore merely say, that with elegance of form and regularity and delicacy of feature, she combined the highest charm that grace and intelligence of expression can bestow. Fresh from the sunburnt shores of Italy, where I had basked at the foot of Vesuvius till my heart was as inflammable as tinder, I took fire at once. My eyes were riveted upon the peerless Theresa, when she chanced to look up. There was electricity in the glance. I was stricken on the spot; my heart was brought down like a snipe with a slug through his wing, and fell fluttering at its conqueror's feet. I know not how long I had gazed, when I was roused from my contemplation by a stir in the choir, and the choristers struck up a psalm to a fine old German air, in which I had often joined at concerts of Handel's and Haydn's splendid church music. Instinctively I took my accustomed part, and was scarcely conscious of doing so, until, after a few bars, I perceived myself the object of the choristers' curious attention, and saw the singer whose part I had taken cease to sing, either of his own accord or at a sign from the precentor. Certainly the wiry quavering and unskilled execution of the Klein Fleckenberger tenor could not compete for an instant with a voice which was then in its mellow prime, and of very considerable power; without vanity, the substitution was for the better, and so apparently thought the congregation, for a cat's footfall might have been heard in the church, and all eyes were turned towards the choir. Amongst them I particularly observed the beautiful hazel orbs of the Princess Theresa, which more than once fixed themselves upon me, so I fancied, as if she singled out my voice and distinguished it from the less cultivated vocalisation of my companions. The singing at an end, I observed her whisper the duke, who immediately cast a glance in my direction.

The service over, I hurried from the church, eager to catch a view of my divinity, on whose passage I stationed myself. Presently an open carriage, with high-pacing Mecklenberg horses and a bearded chasseur, rolled rapidly by, its occupants receiving on their passage the respectful greetings of the people. In my turn I took off my hat, and I could not but think there was a gleam of recognition in the beautiful Theresa's eyes as she gracefully bent in acknowledgment of my salutation. And when the carriage had passed me a few yards, the duke put his head out and looked back, but for whom or what the look was intended I could not decide, before a turn of the road hid the vehicle from my view.

The ragouts at the Fleckenberger Arms were not of such excellence as to induce me to linger over them, even if my appetite had not been somewhat destroyed by the feverish excitement in which the sight of the peerless Theresa had left me. The fact was, absurd as it may seem, that I had actually, and at first sight, allowed myself to fall violently in love with the charming and high-born German. I say absurd; because, although my father was of a good enough Brunswick family, and my mother, a rich English heiress, had brought him a rent-roll perhaps not much inferior to the combined civil list and private revenue of the dukes of Klein Fleckenberg, yet a princess is always a princess, whether her realm be wide as China or limited as Monaco, a hemisphere or a paddock; and I was well assured of the haughty astonishment with which Augustus IX. would not fail to repel the presumptuous advances of plain Charles von Degen. At the time, however, I did not stay to calculate all this, but yielded to the impulse of the moment.

I was sitting after dinner in the public room of the hotel, and planning a walk abroad in hopes of obtaining another glimpse of the lady of my thoughts, when I heard my name pronounced. The door was half open, and by a slight change of position I saw into the entrance-hall, where Herr Damfnudel, landlord of the Fleckenberger Arms, was exhibiting, to a stranger in a dapper brown coat and of smug and courtly aspect, the folio volume in which, according to German custom, each visitor to the hotel was expected to inscribe his name and calling, his whence-come and his whither-go. Presently the stranger entered the room and paced it twice in its entire length, whilst I sat at the table turning over a newspaper, in whose perusal I affected to be busied, but at the same time observing, by the aid of a friendly mirror, the appearance and movements of the stranger, to whom I was evidently an object of curiosity and examination. Presently he took up a paper, sat down at no great distance from me, offered me snuff, and glided into talk. Aided by tolerable familiarity with the ways and style of little German courts and courtiers, I soon made up my mind as to what he was. His manner, appearance, and tone of conversation convinced me he was in some way or other attached to the ducal residence, although I had difficulty in conjecturing his motive for trying to extract from me various particulars concerning myself and my country, and especially concerning the object of my visit to Mauseloch. He either did not possess, or thought it unnecessary to employ, any great amount of finesse, and I soon detected his drift. My pure German accent could have left him no doubt that in me he addressed a countryman; the hotel-book told him little besides my name, for I had inscribed myself as a particulier or private gentleman, coming from the last town I had slept at, and proceeding to the next at which I proposed pausing on my journey homewards. Hope and vanity combined to flatter me with the belief that the chamberlain, or whatever else he was, acted merely as an agent in the affair; and, at any rate, I thought it wise to affect the mysterious, being sufficiently acquainted with optics to know that a fog magnifies the objects it envelops. The stranger could make nothing of me. At times his sharp little grey eyes assumed an expression of doubt, and at others his manner had a tinge of deep respect that puzzled me not a little. At last he took his departure, and it was my turn to play the inquisitor. Calling for Herr Damfnudel, I preferred those two requests which no innkeeper was ever known to refuse – namely, a bottle of his best wine, and his company to drink it. The generous juice of the Rhine grape speedily oiled the hinges of his tongue; and at the very first assault, by speaking of the stranger as the Kammerherr or chamberlain, I ascertained that he really held a somewhat similar post in the duke's household. Before the bottle, of which I took care my host should drink the greater part, was quite empty, I had learned all that the worthy Damfnudel knew. This amounted to no great deal. The duke's gentleman had been inquisitive as to who I was, had inspected the book, had inquired if I had a servant, and had seemed disappointed at finding I was quite alone, and that the innkeeper could tell him little or nothing about me. Damfnudel was much inclined to believe, indeed had heard it rumoured in the town, that an important personage was expected at the castle, whom it was thought possible might be standing in my boots under the assumed name of Charles von Degen. Flattering as was the implied compliment to the aristocratic distinction of my appearance, I nevertheless repudiated the incognito, declared myself to be no other than I seemed, and begged Damfnudel to treat me and charge me as an ordinary traveller, and by no means as a prince, ambassador, or field-marshal, or other great dignitary. Dumfnudel, however, was of opinion that in these times so many real and ex-potentates travel incognito, that it is impossible to say who is who, and that a prudent innkeeper must consequently suspect all his guests of high rank until the contrary be proven, and charge accordingly.