Gascoyne, The Sandal Wood Trader by R. M. Ballantyne

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He checked himself by a powerful effort, and crushed back the boastful
defiance which rose to his lips.

"Now, I'll tell ye what it is, Mister Gascoyne," said Dick Price, "I do
believe yer not such a bad feller as they say ye are, an' I'm disposed
to be marciful to ye. If yell give me your word of honor that you'll not
holler out, and that you'll go with us peaceably, and do wot yer bid,
I'll not trouble you with the napkin, nor bind ye up more than I've done
already. But" (here Dick spoke in tones that could not be
misunderstood), "if ye won't give me that promise, I'll gag ye and bind
ye neck and heels, and we'll carry ye out o' this, shoulder high. Now,
wot say ye to that?"

Gascoyne had calmed his feelings while the boatswain was speaking. He
even smiled when he replied, "How can you ask me to give my word of
honor? What honor has a pirate to boast of, think you?"

"Not much, pr'aps," said Dick; "howsomdever, I'll be content with wot's
left of it; and if there ain't none, why, then, give us yer word. It'll
do as well."

"After all, it matters little what is done with me," said Gascoyne, in a
resigned-voice. "I am a fool to resist thus. You need not fear that I
will offer any further resistance, my man. Do your duty, whatever that
may be."

"That won't do," said Dick, stoutly; "ye must promise not to holler
out."

"I promise," said Gascoyne, sternly. "Pray cease this trifling; and, if
it is not inconsistent with your duty, let me know where I am to be
taken to."

"That's just wot I'm not allowed for to tell. But you'll find it out in
the coorse of time. Now, all that you've got to do is to walk by my
side, and do wot I tell ye."

The prisoner made no answer. He was evidently weary of the conversation,
and his thoughts were already wandering on other subjects.

The door was now unlocked by one of the three men who stood near it. As
its hinges creaked, Dick shut the lantern, and threw the cell at once
into total darkness. Taking hold of Gascoyne's wrist gently, as if to
guide, not to force him away, he conducted him along the short passage
that led to the outer door of the prison. This was opened, and the whole
party stood in the open air.

Gascoyne looked with feelings of curiosity at the men who surrounded
him; but the night was so intensely dark that their features were
invisible. He could just discern the outlines of their figures, which
were enveloped in large cloaks. He was on the point of speaking to them,
when he remembered his promise to make no noise; so he restrained
himself, and followed his guard in silence.

Dick and another man walked at his side, the rest followed in rear.
Leading him round the outskirts of the village, towards its northern
extremity, Gascoyne's conductors soon brought him to the beach, at a
retired spot, where was a small bay. Here they were met by one whose
stature proved him to be a boy. He glided up to Dick, who said, in a low
whisper:

"Is all ready?"

"All right," replied the boy, in a whisper.

"The ooman aboard?"

"Aye."

"Now, Mr. Gascoyne," said Dick, pointing to a large boat floating beside
the rocks on which they stood, "you'll be so good as to step into that
'ere boat, and sit down beside the individual you see a-sitting in the
stern-sheets."

"Have you authority for what you do?" asked Gascoyne, hesitating.

"I have power to enforce wot I command," said Dick, quietly. "Remember
yer promise, Mister Pirate, else--"

Dick finished his sentence by pointing to the three men who stood
near--still maintaining a silence worthy of Eastern mutes; and Gascoyne,
feeling that he was completely in their power, stepped quickly into the
boat, and sat down beside the "individual" referred to by Dick, who was
so completely enveloped in the folds of a large cloak as to defy
recognition. But the pirate captain was too much occupied with his own
conflicting thoughts and feelings to bestow more than a passing glance
on the person who sat at his side. Indeed, it was not surprising that
Gascoyne was greatly perplexed by all that was going on at that time;
for he could not satisfactorily account to himself for the mystery and
secrecy which his guards chose to maintain. If they were legitimate
agents of the law, why these muffled oars, with which they swept the
boat across the lagoon, through the gap in the coral reef, and out to
sea? And if they were _not_ agents of the law, who were they, and where
were they conveying him?

The boat was a large one, half-decked, and fitted to stand a heavy sea
and rough weather. It would have moved sluggishly through the water had
not the four men who pulled the oars been possessed of more than average
strength. As soon as they passed the barrier reef, the sails were
hoisted, and Dick took the helm. The breeze was blowing fresh off the
land, and the water rushed past the boat as she cut swiftly out to sea,
leaving a track of white foam behind her. For a few minutes the mass of
the island was dimly seen rising like a huge shade on the dark sky, but
soon it melted away, and nothing remained for the straining eyes to rest
upon save the boat with its silent crew and the curling foam on the
black sea.

"We've got him safe now, lads," said Dick Price, speaking for the first
time that night in unguarded tones. "You'd better do the deed. The
sooner it's done the better."

While he was speaking, one of the three men opened a large clasp-knife,
and advanced towards Gascoyne.

"Father," said Henry, cutting the rope that bound him, "you are free at
last!"

Gascoyne started; but before he had time to utter the exclamation of
surprise that sprang to his lips, his hand was seized by the muffled
figure that sat at his side.

"O, Gascoyne! forgive us--forgive _me_!" said Mary Stuart, in a
trembling voice. "I did, indeed, know something of what they meant to
do, but I knew nothing of the cruel violence that these bonds--"

"Violence!" cried Dick Price. "I put it to yourself, Mister Gascoyne, if
I didn't treat ye as if ye wos a lamb?"

"Wot a blissin it is for a man to git his mouth open agin, and let his
breath go free," cried Jo Bumpus, with a deep sigh. "Come, Corrie, give
us a cheer--hip! hip! hip!--"

The cheer that followed was stirring, and wonderfully harmonious; for it
was given in a deep bass and a shrill treble, with an intermediate
baritone "Ho!" from Jakolu.

"I know it, Mary--I know it," said Gascoyne; and there was a slight
tremor in his deep voice as he drew his wife towards him, and laid her
head upon his breast.

"You have never done me an evil turn--you have done me nothing but
good--since you were a little child. Heaven bless you, Mary!"

"Now, father," said Henry, "I suppose you have no objection to make your
escape?"

"No need to raise that question, lad," said Gascoyne, with a perplexed
smile. "I am not quite clear as to what my duty is, now that I am free
to go back again and give myself up."

"Go back!--free!" exclaimed John Bumpus, in a tone of withering sarcasm.
"So, Mister Gascoyne, ye've got sich an uncommon cargo o' conceit in ye
yet, that you actually think ye could go back without so much as saying,
By your leave!"

While Jo was speaking, he bared to the shoulder an arm that was the
reverse of infantine, and, holding it up, said, slowly:

"I've often had a sort o' desire, d'ye see, to try whether this bit of a
limb or the one that's round Mrs. Stuart's waist is the strongest. Now,
if _you_ have any desire to settle this question, just try to put, to
shove, this boat's head up into the wind--that's all!"

This was said so emphatically by the pugnacious Bumpus that his
companions laughed, and Corrie cheered in admiration.

"You see," observed Henry, "you need not give yourself any concern as to
this point; you have no option in the matter."

"No, not a bit o' poption in it wotiver; though wot that means I ain't
rightly sure," said Dick Price.

"Perhaps I ought to exercise my parental authority over you, Henry,"
said Gascoyne, "and _command_ you to steer back to Sandy Cove."

"But we wouldn't let him, Mister Pirate," said Dick Price, who, now that
his difficult duties were over, was preparing to solace himself with a
pipe; an example that was immediately followed by Bumpus, who backed his
friend by adding:

"No more we would."

"Nay, then, if Henry joins me," said Gascoyne, "I think that we two will
not have a bad chance against you three."

"Come, that's good: so _I_ count for nothing!" exclaimed Corrie.

"Ha! stick up, lad," observed Bumpus. "The niggers wot you pitched into
at the mouth o' yon cave didn't think that--eh! didn't they not?"

"Well, well; if Corrie sides with you, I feel that my wisest course is
to submit. And now, Henry," said Gascoyne, resuming his wonted gravity
of tone and demeanor, "sit down here and let me know where we are going,
and what you mean to do. It is natural that I should feel curious on
these points, even although I _have_ perfect confidence in you all."

Henry obeyed, and their voices sank into low tones as they mingled in
earnest converse about their future plans.

Thus did Gascoyne, with his family and friends, leave Sandy Cove in the
dead of that dark night, and sail away over the wide waste of the great
Pacific Ocean.

* * * * *

Reader, our tale is nearly told. Like a picture it contains but a small
portion of the career of those who have so long engaged your attention,
and, I would fain hope, your sympathy. The life of man may be
comprehensively epitomized almost to a point, or expanded out _ad
infinitum_. He was born, he died, is its lowest term. Its highest is not
definable.

Innumerable tomes, of encyclopedic dimensions, could not contain, much
less exhaust, an account of all that was said and done, and all that
might be said about what was said and done, by our _ci-devant_
sandal-wood trader and his friends. Yet there are main points, amid the
little details of their career, which it would be unpardonable to pass
over in silence. To these we shall briefly refer before letting the
curtain fall.

There is a distant isle of the sea, a beautiful spot, an oceanic gem,
which has been reclaimed by the word of God from those regions that have
been justly styled "the dark places of the earth." We will not mention
its name; we will not even indicate its whereabouts, lest we should
furnish a clue to the unromantic myrmidons of the law, whose inflexible
justice is only equaled by their pertinacity in tracking the criminal to
his lair!

On this beautiful isle, at the time of our tale, the churches and houses
of Christian men had begun to rise. The natives had begun to cultivate
the arts of civilization, and to appreciate, in some degree, the
inestimable blessings of Christianity. The plow had torn up the virgin
soil, and the anchors of merchant-ships had begun to kiss the strand.
The crimes peculiar to civilized men had not yet been developed. The
place had all the romance and freshness of a flourishing infant colony.

Early one fine morning, a half-decked boat rowed into the harbor of this
isle, and ran alongside the little quay, where the few natives who
chanced to be lounging there were filled with admiration at the sight of
five stalwart men who leaped upon the rocks, an active lad who held the
boat steady, and a handsome middle-aged woman, who was assisted to land
with much care by the tallest of her five companions.

There were a few small bales of merchandise in the boat. These being
quickly tossed ashore, one of the natives was asked to show the way to
the nearest store, where they might be placed in safekeeping.

This done, the largest man of the party, who was clad in the rough
garments of a merchant captain, offered his arm to the female, who was
evidently his wife, and went off in search of the chief magistrate of
the settlement, leaving his companions to look after the boat and smoke
their pipes.

The handsome stranger introduced himself to the magistrate as Mr.
Stuart; stated that he intended to settle on the island as a general
merchant, having brought a few bales of merchandise with him; that he
had been bred an engineer and a shipwright, and meant also to work at
his old trade, and concluded by asking for advice and general
information in regard to the state of trade on the island.

After having obtained all the information on these subjects that the
magistrate could give,--insomuch that that functionary deemed him a
perfect marvel of catechetical wisdom and agreeable address,--the
stalwart stranger proceeded to inquire minutely into the state of
religion and education among the natives and settlers, and finally left
the charmed magistrate rejoicing in the belief that he was a most
intelligent philanthropist, and would be an inestimable acquisition to
the settlement.

A small trading-store was soon built. The stranger was not a rich man.
He began in a humble way, and sought to eke out his subsistence by doing
the ordinary work of a wright. In this latter occupation he was ably
assisted by his stout son, Henry; for the duties of the store were
attended to chiefly by the lad Corrie, superintended by Mr. Stuart.

The mysterious strangers were a source of much gossip and great
speculation, of course, to the good people of Green Isle, as we shall
style this gem of the Pacific, in order to thwart the myrmidons of the
law! They found them so reserved and uncommunicative, however, on the
subject of their personal affairs, that the most curious gossip in the
settlement at last gave up speculating in despair.

In other respects, the new family were noted for kindliness and
urbanity. Mrs. Stuart, especially, became an intimate friend of the
missionary who dwelt there, and one of his hardest working parishioners.
Mr. Stuart also became his friend; but the stern gravity of countenance,
and reserved, though perfectly well-bred and even kindly manner of the
stranger forbade close intimacy. He was a most regular attendant at
church, not only on Sundays, but at the weekly-prayer meetings and
occasional festivals, and the missionary noticed that his Bible looked
as if it were a well-thumbed one.

At first the two seamen, whom people soon found out, were named
respectively Jo and Dick, wrought in the wright's workshop, and at all
kinds of miscellaneous jobs; besides making frequent and sometimes long
voyages in their boat to the neighboring islands. As time flew by,
things seemed to prosper with the merchant. The keel of a little
schooner was laid. Father, and son, and seamen (as well as the native
servant, who was called Jako) toiled at this vessel incessantly until
she was finished--then Henry was placed in command of her, Jo and Dick
were appointed first and second mates, two or three natives completed
the crew, and she went to sea under the somewhat peculiar name of the
Avenger.

This seemed to be the first decided advance in the fortunes of the new
family. Business increased in a wonderful way. The Avenger returned
again and again to the Green Isle laden with rich and varied commodities
for the successful merchant. In course of time the old store was taken
down, and a new one built; the Avenger was sold, and a large brig
purchased; the rather pretty name of which--"Evening Star"--was erased,
and the mysterious word Avenger put in its place. Everything, in short,
betokened that Mr. Stuart was on the high road to fortune.

But there were some mysteries connected with the merchant which sorely
puzzled the wisest heads in the place, and which would have puzzled
still wiser heads had they been there. Although it soon became quite
evident to the meanest capacity that Mr. Stuart was the richest man on
the island, yet he and his family continued to occupy the poor, shabby,
little, ill-furnished cottage which they had erected with their own
hands when they first landed; and although they sold the finest silks
and brocades to the wives and daughters of the other wealthy settlers,
they themselves wore only the plainest and most somber fabrics that
consisted with respectability.

People would have called them a family of misers but for their goodness
of character in other respects, and for the undeniable fact that they
were by far the most liberal contributors to the church and to the
poor--not only in their own island, but in all the other islands around
them.

Another thing that puzzled the mercantile men of the place extremely was
the manner in which Mr. Stuart kept his books of business. They soon
began to take note that he kept two ledgers and two distinct sets of
books--the one set small, the other set very bulky. Some of the more
audacious among his customers ventured to peep over his shoulder, and
discovered that the small set contained nothing but entries of boats
made, and repairs to shipping executed, and work connected exclusively
with the shipwright department of his business--while the large books
contained entries of those silks, and sugars, and teas, and spices,
etc., which turned so much gold into his coffers.

It thus became evident to these men of business that the merchant kept
the two departments quite separate, in order to ascertain the distinct
profits on each. They were the more amazed at this when they considered
that the shipwright work must necessarily be a mere driblet, altogether
unworthy the attention of one so wealthy. But that which amazed them
most of all was, that such a man, in such circumstances, could waste his
time in doing with his own hands the work of an ordinary mechanic--thus
(as they concluded) entailing on himself the necessity of devoting much
of the night to his more lucrative concern.

These long-headed men of business little knew the man. They did not know
that he was _great_ in the highest sense of the term, and that, among
other elements of his greatness, he possessed the power of seizing the
little things--the little opportunities--of life, and turning them to
the best account; and that he not only knew what should be done; and how
to do it, but was gifted with that inflexible determination of purpose
to carry out a design, without which knowledge and talent can never
accomplish great things. The merchant did not, as they supposed, work
late at night. He measured his time, and measured his work. In this he
was like many other men in this struggling world; but he _stuck_ to his
time and to his work, in which respect he resembled the great few whose
names stand prominent on the page of history.

In consequence of this, Mr. Stuart wrought with success at both
departments of his business, and while in the one he coined thousands,
in the other he earned more than the average wages of a working-man.

The Avenger was erratic and uncertain in her voyages. She evidently
sailed to the principal islands of the South Seas, and did business with
them all. From one of these voyages, Henry, her captain, returned with a
wife,--a dark-haired, dark-eyed, lady-like girl,--for whom he built a
small cottage beside his father's, and left her there while he was away
at sea.

It was observed by the clerks in Mr. Stuart's counting-room, that their
chief accountant, Mr. Corrie, was a great letter-writer,--that when one
letter was finished, he invariably began another, and kept it by him,
adding sheet after sheet to it until the Avenger returned and carried it
off. Once Mr. Corrie was called hurriedly away while in the act of
addressing one of these epistles. He left it lying on his desk, and a
small, contemptible, little apprentice allowed his curiosity so far to
get the better of him, that he looked at the address, and informed his
companions that Mr. Corrie's correspondent was a certain Miss Alice
Mason!

Of course, Mr. Corrie received voluminous replies from this mysterious
Alice; and, if one might judge from his expression on reading these
epistles (as that contemptible little apprentice _did_ judge), the
course of _his_ love ran smoother than usual; thus, by its
exceptionality, proving the truth of the rule.

Years passed away. The merchant's head became gray, but his gigantic
frame was as straight and his step as firm as ever. His wife, strange to
say, looked younger as she grew older! It seemed as if she were
recovering from some terrible illness that had made her prematurely old,
and were now renewing her youth. The business prospered to such an
extent that, by becoming altogether too wonderful, it ceased to be a
matter of wonder altogether to the merchants of the Green Isle. They
regarded it as semi-miraculous,--the most unprecedented case of "luck"
that had ever been heard of in the annals of mercantile history.

But the rich merchant still dwelt in the humble, almost mean cottage,
and still wrought as an engineer and shipwright with his own hands.

In the little cottage beside his own there were soon seen (and _heard_)
three stout children, two boys and a girl, the former being named
respectively Gascoyne and Henry, the latter Mary. It is needless to say
that these were immense favorites with the eccentric merchant.

During all this time there was a firm in Liverpool which received
periodical remittances of money from an unknown source. The cashier of
that firm, a fat little man, with a face like a dumpling and a nose like
a cherry, lived, as it were, in a state of perpetual amazement in regard
to these remittances. They came regularly, from apparently nowhere, were
acknowledged to nobody, and amounted, in the course of time, to many
thousands. This firm had, some years previously, lost a fine vessel. She
was named the Brilliant; had sailed for the South Sea Islands with a
rich cargo, and was never more heard of. The fat cashier knew the loss
sustained by this vessel to a penny. He had prepared and calculated all
the papers and sent duplicates on board; and as he had a stake in the
venture, he never forgot the amount of the loss sustained.

One day the firm received a remittance from the unknown, with a note to
the following effect at the foot of it: "This is the last remittance on
account of the Brilliant. The value of the cargo, including compound
interest, and the estimated value of the vessel, have now been repaid to
the owners."

The fat cashier was thunderstruck! He rushed to his ledger, examined the
account, calculated the interest, summed up the whole, and found it
correct. He went home to bed, and fell sound asleep in amazement; awoke
in amazement; went back to the office in amazement; worked on day after
day in amazement; lived, and eventually died, in a state of unrelieved
amazement In regard to this incomprehensible transaction!

About the same time that this occurred, Mr. Stuart entered his poor
cottage, and finding his wife there, said:

"Mary, I have sent off the last remittance to-day. I have made amends
for that evil deed. It has cost me a long and hard struggle to realize
the thousands of pounds that were requisite; for some of the goods had
got damaged by damp in the cavern of the Isle of Palms; but the profits
of my engineering and shipwright business have increased of late, and I
have managed to square it all off, with interest. And now, Mary, I can
do no more. If I knew of any others who have suffered at my hands. I
would restore what I took tenfold; but I know of none. It therefore
remains that I should work this business for the good of mankind. Of all
the thousands that have passed through my hands, I have not used one
penny. You know that I have always kept the business that has grown out
of the labors of my own hands distinct from that which has been reared
on the stolen goods. I have lived and supported you by it, and now,
through God's blessing, it has increased to such an extent that I think
we may afford to build a somewhat more commodious house, and furnish it
a little better.

"As for the mercantile business, it _must_ go on. It has prospered and
still prospers. Many mouths are dependent on it for daily bread. I will
continue to manage it, but every penny of profit shall go in charity as
long as I live. After that, Henry may do with it as he pleases. He has
contributed largely to make it what it is, and deserves to reap where he
has sown so diligently. Do you think I am right in all this, Mary?"

We need scarcely remark that Mary did think it all right; for she and
Gascoyne had no differences of opinion _now_.

Soon after this, Corrie went off on a long voyage in the Avenger. The
vessel touched at San Francisco, and while there, some remarkable scenes
took place between Jo Bumpus and a good-looking woman whom he called
Susan. This female ultimately went on board the Avenger, and sailed in
her for Green Isle.

On the way thither they touched at one of the first of the South Sea
Islands that they came in sight of, where scenes of the most
unprecedented description took place between Corrie and a bluff old
gentleman named Ole Thorwald, and a sweet, blue-eyed, fair-haired maiden
named Alice Mason!

Strange to say, this fair girl agreed to become a passenger in the
Avenger; and, still more strange to say, her father and Ole Thorwald
agreed to accompany her; also an ancient piece of animated door-matting
called Toozle, and a black woman named Poopy, whose single observation
in regard to every event in sublunary history was, "Hee! hee!"

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