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 LI B RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
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 sponsible for its return to the library from 
 which it was withdrawn on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
 Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books 
 are reasons for disciplinary action and may 
 result in dismissal from the University. 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
 
 THE WORLD WENT VERY 
 
 WELL THEN 
 I.
 
 NOVELS 
 
 BY 
 
 WALTER BESANT AND JAMES RICE. 
 
 Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 2^- 6^- each ; post 8vo. illus, 
 boards, 2s. each ; cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 READY-MONEY MORTIBOY. 
 
 WITH HARP AND CROWN. 
 
 THIS SON OF VULCAN. 
 
 MY LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 THE CASE OF MR. LUCRAFT. 
 
 THE GOLDEN BUTTERFLY. 
 
 BY CELIA'S ARBOUR. 
 
 THE MONKS OF THELEMA. 
 
 'TWAS IN TRAFALGAR'S BAY. 
 
 THE SEAMY SIDE. 
 
 THE TEN YEARS' TENANT. 
 
 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 NOVELS BY WALTER BESANT. 
 
 Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 3^-. 6d. each ; post 8vo. illus. 
 boards, 2s. each ; cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN : an 
 
 Impossible Story. With Illustrations by Fred. Barnard. 
 
 THE CAPTAINS' ROOM, &c. With Frontispiece 
 by E. J. Wheeler. 
 
 ALL IN A GARDEN FAIR. With 6 Illustrations 
 by H. FuRNiss. 
 
 DOROTHY FORSTER. With Frontispiece by 
 Charles Green. 
 
 UNCLE JACK, and other Stories. 
 
 CHILDREN OF GIBEON. Three Vols. 
 
 THE WORLD WENT VERY WELL THEN. 
 
 Three Vols. 
 
 THE ART OF FICTION. Demy 8vo. i^. 
 
 London : CHATTO & WIND US, Piccadilly, W.
 
 THE WORLD WENT 
 VERY WELL THEN 
 
 BY 
 
 WALTER BESANT 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN' 'DOROTHY FORSTER' 
 
 ' CHILDREN OF GIBEON ' ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WITH A PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR BY JOHN PETTIE, R.A. 
 AND ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. FORESTIER 
 
 ITonboit 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1887 
 
 {.The rigJit of translation is reserved]
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 5POTTISW0ODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 
 LONDON
 
 -J ^^ 3 
 
 TO 
 
 JOHN PETTIE, B.A. 
 
 I dedicate this hook, m 7nemory of certain pleasant 
 
 Jiours passed in Fit z John's Avenue in November 
 
 1886, of which the frontispiece is the outcome, and 
 
 in acknowledgement of tlie patience and skill of the 
 
 Artist. 
 
 WALTER BE S ANT. 
 
 UxiTED University Club, 
 
 Feb. 1887.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 I BEG to express my best thanks to Mr. William 
 Ingram, who has most generously placed at my 
 disposal, for reproduction, the drawings of Mr. 
 Forestier, made originally for the ' Illustrated 
 London News,' where this story first appeared. 
 I have also to thank Mr. Charles Eden for 
 kindly pointing out and correcting for me cer- 
 tain slips due to the fact that the writer of 
 this narrative, Luke Anguish, was a landsman, 
 though a painter of ships. 
 
 Those who wish to know the foundation 
 of the story will find it in the Chronicles of 
 Deptford, and on a tombstone in the Churcli 
 of St. Nicolas.
 
 viii PREFACE 
 
 I desire also to be allowed a word of 
 personal explanation. Many people have 
 written to me asking how I can write two 
 novels at once, because during the time that 
 this tale was running in the ' Illustrated 
 London News,' the ' Children of Gibeon ' was 
 concluding in 'Longman's Magazine.' I can- 
 not, as a matter of fact, write two novels at 
 once, and I should be very much afraid to try 
 such an experiment. The following are the 
 facts and dates : 
 
 In October 1883, I finished the story of 
 ' Dorothy Forster,' which was published in 
 the ' Graphic,' January-June 1884, and by 
 Messrs. Chatto & Windus in May 1884. 
 
 On the completion of ' Dorothy Forster,' I 
 began the 'Children of Gibeon,' which occupied 
 me until May 1885. In the summer of 1885 
 I began ' The World went very Well Then.' 
 The first half of this was sent in to Mr. Ingram 
 in April of 1886, and the rest in June. So
 
 PREFACE ix 
 
 far, therefore, from writing two novels at once, 
 tlie two which ran partly at the same time 
 were written quite separately, the first taking 
 eighteen months and the second about thirteen 
 months. 
 
 W. B.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 CHA.PTKU TAGE 
 
 I. HOW JACK HEARD TALK OP LANDS DEYDND THE SEA 1 
 
 II. HOW JACK CAME TO DEPTFORD .... 
 
 III. HOW JACK LEARNED OF THE PENMAN . 
 
 IV. HOW JACK FIRST WENT TO SEA . . . . 96 
 V. MIDSHIPMAN JACK 112 
 
 VI. THE 'COUNTESS OF DORSET' " 132 
 
 YII. MR. BRINJES CONCLEDES THE STORY OF HIS VOYAGE 145 
 
 VIII. THE ' COUNTESS OF DORSET ' SAILS 
 
 IX. AARON FLETCHER 
 
 X. HOW JACK CAME HOME AGAIN 
 
 XI. THE VOYAGE OF THE ' COUNTESS OF DORSET 
 
 XII. HOW JACK THANKED BESS 
 
 XIII. JACK ASHORE 
 
 181 
 
 i:04 
 
 214 
 
 24 9 
 287 
 298
 
 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 POETEAIT OP THE AUTHOR .... Frontispiece 
 
 * A SMALL BACK PARLOUR BEHIND Alf APOTHECARY'S SHOP ' 1 
 'GOOD-BTE, BESs!' 108 
 
 * THEY STOPPED OJfLY TO DRINK, AS"D THEN E0T7GH1 
 
 again' \IZ 
 
 ' SHE FELL ON HER KNEES UPON THE MUDDY GROUND' . 247
 
 A small back pa7'lo2ir behind an apothecary's shop.
 
 THE WORLD WENT VERY 
 WELL THEN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 now JACK HEARD TALK OF LANDS BEYOXD 
 THE SEA. 
 
 N a small back par- 
 lour, behind an 
 apothecary's shop, 
 
 boys and a gu'l. The boys 
 
 B
 
 2 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 were aged respectively twelve years and ten ; 
 the elder of them w^as a tall and strongly-built 
 lad, with curling hair of a dark brown, and 
 eyes of mncli the same colour; the younger, 
 fair-haired, and of slighter proportions. The 
 girl was nine ; but she looked more, being tall 
 for her age. Her hair was so dark that it 
 looked almost black. It hung loose, in long 
 curls or ripples, not being coarse and thick, 
 as happens, generally, with hair that is quite 
 black, but fine in texture and lustrous to look 
 upon. Her eyes, too, were black and large. 
 The elder boy and the girl sat side-by-side in 
 the window-seat, while the other boy sat at the 
 table, having a pencil in his hand and a piece 
 of paper before him, on which he was drawing, 
 idly, whatever came into his head. All three 
 were silent, save that the elder boy from time 
 to time whispered the girl, or pinched lier ear, 
 or pulled her hair, when she would shake her 
 nead and smile, and point to the great chair 
 beside the fire, as much as to say, ' If it were 
 not for that chair, Jack, and the person in it, 
 I would box thy ears.'
 
 VERY WELL THEN 3 
 
 It was not a cold day. The sun shone 
 through the lattice window, and fell upon the 
 heads of the two who sat together, and motes 
 innumerable danced merrily in the light ; yet 
 there was a coal fire burning in the grate. On 
 one liob simmered a saucepan, with some broth 
 in it or compound of simples (while the children 
 sat waiting, the apothecary's assistant stepped 
 in noiselessly, lifted the lid, took out a spoonful, 
 sighed, tasted it, shook his head for the nasti- 
 ness of it, and went back into the sliop). On 
 the other hob stood a kettle, singing comfort- 
 ably — kept there ahvays, day and night, but 
 not for making tea, I promise you. As for the 
 room itself, it w^as exactly like a ship's cabin, 
 being narrow and low, and fitted with shelves 
 and drawers. On one side was a pallet, some- 
 thing like a bunk in an officer's cabin, with a 
 flock mattress upon it, and a pair of blankets 
 rolled up snug. Here the apothecary slept 
 when the Aveathei was cold —that is to say, 
 nearly all the year round. Herbs and drugs 
 tied in bundles liung from the rafters, as onions 
 hang in a farm-house ; the window was a lattice, 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 with small diamond panes set in lead ; above 
 the mantel- shelf hung a silver watch ; on the 
 shelf itself stood a pair of brass candlesticks, 
 the model of a ship full rigged — her name 
 written in red ink on a wooden stand, ' The 
 King Solomon, of Bristol ' — a pair of ship's 
 pistols, a tobacco jar, and two or three long 
 pipes. The apothecary's great wig, which he 
 wore every evening at the club, hung from a 
 peg on the Avail behind the elbow chair ; and 
 in the corner of the room opposite the chair 
 there was a very fearful and terrible thing, 
 imtil you grew accustomed to it, when you 
 ceased to fear it. This was nothing less than a 
 stick painted red and black, with bright- coloured 
 feathers tied round it, and surmounted by a 
 grinninc^ human skull. It was a mastic stick, 
 called, we were told, the Ekpenyong, or skull 
 stick, by the Mandingo sorcerers — a thing only 
 to be handled by an Obeah man, the possession 
 of which is supposed by negroes either to 
 confer or to proclaim wonderful powders, and 
 cut from a juju or holy tree. Beside it lay two 
 musical instruments, also from Africa — ^one a
 
 VERY WELL THEN 5 
 
 hollow block of wood covered with a sheepskin, 
 and the other a kind of rude guitar. This 
 stick it was which caused the apothecary to be 
 greatly respected by the Admiral's negroes, as 
 you will presently hear. He who has such a 
 stick can catch the shadow, as the}' say — tliat 
 is, the soul of a man ; and set Obi upon him 
 — that is to say, bring suffering, sorrow, and 
 shame upon him. So that tlie possessor of a 
 skull-stick is a person greatly to be feared and 
 envied. 
 
 There was an open cupboard beside the 
 fire, in which were household stores, such as 
 bacon, cheese, butter, bread, strings of onions, 
 a two-gallon jar or firkin of rum, plates and 
 knives, for the room was a kitchen as well as 
 an eating-room and a sleeping-room. Once a 
 week or so, if business was slack and there was 
 nothing else to do, the assistant might, if he 
 thought of it, come with a broom, and sweep 
 the dust out into the street. But I do not 
 remember that the room was ever washed. 
 And what with the tobacco, the stores in the 
 cupboard, the rum, the drugs hanging from
 
 6 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 the rafters, and the contents of the shelves, the 
 place had, to a sailor, exactly the smell of the 
 cockpit or orlop deck after a long voyage ; for 
 in that part of the ship are kept the purser's 
 stores, the bo's'n's stores, the spirit-room, the 
 surgeon's store-room, the midshipmen's berths 
 and their mess. For this reason, perhaps, its 
 owner, who had been a sailor, would never 
 open the window ; and always, on returning 
 home, sniffed the air of the room with a 
 peculiar satisfaction. 
 
 The great chair — which might have served 
 for the chair of a hall-porter, having a broad, 
 low seat and a hi oh back with arms — was 
 stuffed or padded with three or four pillows, 
 and in the midst of the pillows lay an old man 
 sleeping. This was Mr. Brinjes, the famous 
 apothecary of Deptford. He was small of 
 stature and thin ; his face (over one eye was a 
 black patch) was creased and lined like a russet 
 apple, which shrinks before it rots ; his chin 
 was hollow ; his head, covered with a padded 
 silk night-cap, was sunk deep in the pillows 
 like a child's ; he lay upon his side ; his feet,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 7 
 
 stretclied out, were propped on a footstool ; one 
 hand was under his cheek, and the other huno- 
 over the arm of the cliair (you might have 
 noticed that tlie skin of his hand was wrinkled 
 and loose, as if the bones belonged to an 
 occupant smaller than was at first intended). 
 As he lay asleep there, he looked like one in 
 extreme old age, sucli as may be seen in 
 country villages, where they take a pride in 
 showing the visitor, in proof of the healthiness 
 of the country air, some old gaffer of a hundred 
 years and more sitting before a fire. 
 
 Through the open door could be seen the 
 shop. It was small, like the parlour behind it. 
 The rafters were hung with dried herbs ; the 
 shelves were full of bottles. There was a chair 
 for the reception of those patients who could 
 not stand ; there was a counter, with scales 
 great and small ; a pestle and mortar ; a box 
 containing surgical instruments — the pincers 
 for pulling out teeth, the cup, the basin, tlie 
 bhster, and the other horrid tools of the sur- 
 geon's craft. The apothecary's assistant stood 
 at the counter, rolling pills and mixing medi-
 
 8 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 cines — a sallow, pasty-faced youtli witli a pair 
 of swivel eyes, which moved with independent 
 action ; a yonng man who walked about 
 without noise, and worked all day without 
 stopping, yet looked discontented, perhaps 
 because he was compelled to taste the medi- 
 cines, and his stomach kicked thereat. The 
 shop door was always open, for the window 
 gave little light, partly because it was never 
 cleaned, partly because there was a shelf with 
 bottles before it, and partly because the glass 
 was full of bull's-eyes, which gave strength, no 
 doubt, yet kept the room obscure. At the 
 end of the counter was the stool on which Mr. 
 Brinjes sat every morning, in his gown and 
 night-cap, from eight o'clock until half-past 
 twelve, receiving patients. Before him, on the 
 counter, was a great book containing, I now 
 suppose, a Eepertory or Collection of Instruc- 
 tions concerning Symptoms of Diseases and 
 Methods of Treatment ; but the common sort 
 always supposed that it was a book of Spells, 
 and the means by which Mr. Brinjes was 
 enabled to communicate with a Certain Poten-
 
 VERY WELL THEN 9 
 
 tate, who helped him and did his bidding, at 
 what price and for what reward these people 
 freely whispered to each other. On Sunday 
 morning (this must have been a bitter Bolus to 
 the Evil one) Mr. Brinjes and his assistant let 
 blood gratis to whoever wished for that whole- 
 some refreshment ; and every morning he 
 pulled out teeth at a shilling or half a crown 
 (according to the means of the customer), his 
 assistant holding the patient in his chair, and 
 receiving those kicks and culFs which in the 
 extremity of his agony the sufferer too often 
 deals out. 
 
 In such a town as Deptford it is natural 
 that the common people should resort to the 
 herb -woman for the cure of their ailments. It 
 was not until she had failed that they came to 
 Mr. Brinjes, and then with doubt whether he 
 would choose to treat them. As for his power 
 to cure, if he pleased, there was no doubt 
 about that. It was whispered that he knew of 
 charms by which he could constrain a person, 
 even in the misery of toothache, to fall sound 
 asleep, and continue asleep while Mr. Brinjes
 
 10 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 would take out a tooth without causing him to 
 awaken, or to feel any pain whatever ; but 
 these things we may not believe, however well 
 authenticated, unless we would seriously accuse 
 him of magic. As for fevers, rheumatisms, 
 difficulty of breathing, coughs, scurvy, and the 
 other afflictions by which w^e are reminded 
 that this is but a transitory world, it was be- 
 lieved, even by the better sort of Deptford,that 
 there was no physician in London itself more 
 skilful than Mr. Brinjes, and that by certain 
 preparations, the secret of which he alone 
 knew, and had learned in his voyages in 
 foreign parts, especially on the West Coast of 
 Africa, where the negroes possess many strange 
 secrets of nature, he had acquired a singular 
 mastery over every kind of disease. He has 
 been known, as I myself who write this history 
 can testify (it Avas in the case of Admiral 
 Sayer's great toe), to relieve a man in one hour 
 of the gout, though he had been roaring for 
 a fortnight with his foot tied up in flannel. It 
 was also whispered of Mr. Brinjes that by 
 maiiic or witchcraft he could brin<^ diseases
 
 VERY WELL THEN n 
 
 upon those who offended him, and that he 
 could avert all the misfortunes to which 
 mankind are liable in shipwreck, drowning, 
 wounds^ and death. But it is idle to repeat 
 the things which w^ere said of him. Certain 
 it is that he possessed w^onderful secrets for 
 the cure of disease, how^ever he came by 
 them. Warts he removed merely by looking 
 at them, and by a prophecy that they w^ould 
 be gone in so many days ; a sprained ankle he 
 would set at ease by simply rubbing the part 
 with his open liand ; sciatica, lumbago, pleurisy, 
 and other such disorders he healed in the same 
 way, foretelling on each occasion how long 
 it would be before the malady would cease. 
 Those wdio were so treated declared that the 
 apothecary's hand became like a red-hot iron 
 in the rubbinc^. Eheumatism, it was certain, 
 he cured by making the patient carry a potato 
 in his pocket ; though what he did, if he did 
 anything, to the potato first, in order to endow 
 it with this virtue, is not known. As for ear- 
 ache, faceache, toothache, tic, and such disorders, 
 it w^as believed that he could order their removal
 
 12 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 at will. Further, it was said of him, that he 
 could, also at will, command these diseases to 
 seize upon a man and torture him. How he 
 did this, no one can explain ; but the testimony 
 of many, still living, proves that he did it. I 
 pass over the report that, in calling these pains 
 to seize upon a man, his one eye glowed like a 
 red-hot coal, and sent forth flashes of fire. 
 Such rumours show only how much he was 
 feared and respected by the people. They came 
 to him also for amulets and charms, wdiich he 
 did not always refuse to give, for protecting 
 those who carried them from drowning, hanging, 
 burning, the shot of cannon, and the stroke of 
 steel. It is true that his amulets w^ere simple 
 thing^s : w^e cannot understand how the tooth of 
 a snake, even with the poison in it, can avail 
 a^rainst drowninix if one wdio cannot swim should 
 tumble into deep water ; nor how^ the head of a 
 frog, wrapped in silk, can, without any other 
 magic, protect a man against the gallows. But 
 there are many other things, which everybody 
 believes, quite as difficult to explain : as, for 
 instance, why the gall of the barbel causeth
 
 VERY WELL THEN 13 
 
 blindness ; why cock ale curetli consumption ; 
 why an onion hung round the neck of a beast, 
 and the next day boiled and buried, cureth 
 distemper in cattle ; or why the finger cut from 
 the hand of a hanged man taketli away a wen. 
 Yet these are in the nature of amulets, as much 
 as any of those prepared by Mr. Brinjes. At 
 this time he had been in the town some fifteen 
 years, having appeared one day about the year 
 1725. Nobody knew who he was or whence 
 he came ; his parentage, his christian name, his 
 birthplace were all unknown. He never spoke 
 of any relations ; and at his first coming he 
 seemed to be as old as now, so that some, when 
 they saw the sign of the Silver Mortar put up, 
 and the gallipots ranged in the sliop, laughed 
 to think of so old and decrepit a man beginning 
 trade as an apothecary. 
 
 Whatever his age, he was not decrepit ; but 
 strong and hale, though shrunken in figure, 
 with a wrinkled skin and a face covered with 
 lines and crow's-feet. He suffered from no ail- 
 ments, was always brisk and active, and had, 
 in his talk and understanding, no apparent touch
 
 14 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 of age. Farther, it soon became known that 
 here was a man who could effect marvellous 
 cures, so that the people began to flock to him, 
 not only from Deptford and the riverside, where 
 he first courted custom, but also from Green- 
 wich, on the one hand, and Eedriff, Ber- 
 mondsey, and Southwark, on the other. 
 
 He received these people every day —from 
 eight in the morning until half-past twelve — 
 dressed in a ragged old gown, gone into holes 
 at the elbows, and well-nigh dropping to 
 pieces ; on his head, an old night-cap ; and on 
 his feet, slippers tied with tape. But slovenly 
 as was his dress, and unwortliy the dignity of 
 a physician, he was sharp and quick with the 
 patients, telling them plainly, while he gave 
 them medicine, whether they would recover or 
 when they would die, and whether he could 
 help them or no. At the stroke of half-past 
 twelve, he got off his stool and retired to his 
 parlour, where, with his own hand, he every 
 day fried or griddled a great piece of beefsteak, 
 with a mess of onions, carrots, and other vege- 
 tables, and presently devoured it, with a tankard
 
 VERY WELL THEN 
 
 15 
 
 of black beer, choosing to do everything with 
 his own hand, even to the filKng of his kettle 
 and the washing of his dishes, rather than have 
 a woman-servant in tlie place. This done, lie 
 made up the fire, put away his plates, settled 
 himself among his pillows, and fell fast asleep. 
 Thus he continued for two or three hours, no 
 one daring to disturb him or to make tlie least 
 noise. When, on this day, he began to move, 
 stretching out first one leg, and then tlie other, 
 turning over on his back, and fidgeting with 
 his hands, the elder boy nodded to the younger, 
 who reached a bundle of papers from the top- 
 most shelf, and laid them on the table as if in 
 readiness. This done, they waited. 
 
 The old man yawned, sighed, and opened 
 his remaining eye — 'twas a pale blue eye of 
 amazing keenness and brightness. Then he 
 sat up suddenly with a start, and looked about 
 him with a quick suspicious glance, as if he 
 had been sleeping in some place where there 
 were wild animals to fear, or savage men. 
 You could then perceive that his features were 
 sharp, and apparently not much altered by his
 
 1 6 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 years ; his cliin being long and pointed, his hps 
 firm, and his nose straiglit, as if lie was a 
 masterful man, who would have his way. As 
 for his remaining eye (no one ever learned 
 where the sight of the other had been lost), 
 tliougli it was so bright, it had a quick and 
 watchful expression, such as may be perceived 
 in the eyes of those creatures who both hunt 
 and are hunted. You will not see this look in 
 the eyes of Dido the Lioness of tlie Tower, 
 because the lion hunts but is never hunted. 
 Being reassured as to tigers or fierce Indians, 
 Mr. Brinjes rose from the chair, and as if not 
 yet wholly awake, yet already conscious, he 
 took a glass and half filled it with rum ; then, 
 with the utmost care and nicety (your drinkers 
 of rum-punch care very little how much rum is 
 in the glass, but are greatly afraid of putting 
 in too much of the other components), added 
 sugar, lemon, and water ; this done, he stirred 
 the contents, rolled it about in the glass, and 
 drank half of it. 
 
 ' I have again returned,' he said, ' to the 
 ■world of life. To all of us who are old,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 17 
 
 when we close our eyes in sleep we know not 
 whether we shall not keep them closed in 
 death, which sometimes thns surprises those 
 who have lived long. But I have returned — 
 aha ! — and with reasonable prospect of another 
 evening of tobacco and punch.' Here he 
 sipped his liquor. ' I take this glass of punch, 
 boys,' he explained, 'for the good of the 
 stomach, and the prevention of ill-humours 
 and vapours ; otherwise these might rise to 
 the brain, which is a part of man's meclianism 
 more delicate than any other, and as easily put 
 oil the balauce as the mainspring of a watch.' 
 Here he drank again, but slowly, and by sips, 
 as becomes one who loves his drink. ' I am 
 now old ; when a man is old he is fortunate if 
 he can breathe free, sleep sound, walk upright, 
 eat his dinner, and still drink his punch. Some 
 men there are, not so old as myself — no, not by 
 ten years — who fetch their breath with diffi- 
 culty, whereas I breathe freely; others are 
 troubled and cannot sleep for racking pains, 
 whereas I have none ; and others cannot eat 
 strong meats, and would die — poor devils! — 
 VOL. I. c
 
 i8' THE WORLD WENT 
 
 of a bowl of punch. Better be dead than live 
 like that ; better lie buried with a mile of blue 
 water over your head, and the whales flopping 
 around your grave on the seaweed. There can 
 be no more comfortable and quiet lying than 
 the bottom of the sea.' He shook his head 
 solemnly. ' When a man cannot any longer 
 fiofht and make love, there is but one thinc^ left 
 to rejoice his heart.' He finished the glass. 
 ' And when he cannot drink, let liim die.' 
 
 He sat down again in his great chair ; but 
 he sat upright, looking about him, now 
 thoroughly awake and alert. 
 
 ' In sleep,' he said, ' it is as if one were 
 already dead ; awake, it is as if one could not 
 die. Ha ! Death is impossible. The blood it 
 runs as strong, the pulse it beats as steady, as 
 when I was a boy of thirty. Why, I am young 
 still ! I am full of life ! Give me fifty years 
 more — only a poor, short fifty years — what is 
 it when the time is gone ? — and I will make, 
 look you, such a medicine as shall keep a man 
 alive for ever ! It w^ill be done some day, alas ! 
 when I am gone. It will be too late for me,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 19 
 
 and I must die. But not yet — not yet. Oh ! 
 we are born too soon — a hundred years and 
 more too soon. When a man is old he is apt 
 to feel the near presence of Death. Not, mind 
 you, when he is asleep, or when he is awake, 
 but when he is between the two. Then he 
 sees the dart aimed at his heart, and the scythe 
 ready to cut him down, and the bony fingers 
 clutching at his throat. It is as if life were 
 slipping from him, just as the pirate's planlv 
 slips under the w^eight of the prisoner who has 
 to walk upon it.' 
 
 ' When a man's time comes,' said Jack, with 
 wisdom borrowed from his friends at Trinity 
 Hospital ; ' when a man's time comes, down he 
 goes.' 
 
 ' Ay. It's easy talking when you are 
 young ; and your time hasn't come by many 
 a day ; the words drop out glib, and seem to 
 mean nothing. Wait, my lad ; wait till you 
 have had your day. To every man his day. 
 First the fat time, then tlie lean time ; or else 
 it's first the lean time, then the fat time. For 
 most, old age is the lean time. But tlie world 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 is full of justice, and there is always a fat time 
 in every man's life. When there's peace upon 
 the seas, the merchantman sails free and happy, 
 buying skins and ivory, spices and precious 
 woods, for glass beads and cotton. So trade 
 prospers. And then tlie King's sailors and 
 marines and the privateers must needs turn 
 smugglers; and so find their Avay to the 
 gallow^s. Then cometh war again, and the 
 honest fellows have another turn with fighting 
 and taking of prizes and cutting out of convoys. 
 Yes, boys; the world is full of justice, did we 
 but rightly consider; and everyone doth get 
 his chance. As for you, Bess, my girl, it shall 
 be a brave lover, in the days when thou shalt 
 be a lovely girl and a goddess. As for you, 
 boys — well — and presently you will become 
 old men like unto me.' He sighed heavily. 
 ' And then ' — he took the saucepan from the 
 hob, stirred it about, and smelled the stuff 
 that was simmering in it — ' I doubt if this mix- 
 ture Children, we are all born a hundred 
 
 years too soon — a hundred years, at least. Yet, 
 if I had but fifty years before me, I think I
 
 V£/^V IVELL THEN 21 
 
 could find the secret to stay old age and put off 
 natural decay. The Coromantyns are said to 
 have the secret, but they keep it to themselves; 
 and I have questioned Philadelphy, who is a 
 Mandingo, in vain. Well ' — again he sighed, as 
 he put back his saucepan — ' I have slept, and I 
 am alive again, with another evening before mc, 
 and more punch. Let us be thankful. Jack, 
 unroll the charts, and let me look upon the 
 world again.' 
 
 The charts, wdiicli the younger boy had 
 already laid upon the table, were stained and 
 thumb -marked parchments, originally drawn 
 by some Spanish hand, for the names were all in 
 Spanish ; but they had been much altered and 
 corrected by a later hand — perhaps that of Mr. 
 Brinjes himself. They showed the Atlantic and 
 the Indian Oceans, together with a map of the 
 Eastern Islands and the unknown Magellanica 
 or Terra Australis. The last named was tra- 
 versed by several lines in blue ink, showing the 
 routes of voyagers both early and recent, each 
 with a name written above it ; as Magellans, 
 1520; Francis D'Ovalle, 1582; Mendana,
 
 22 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 1595 ; Drake, 1577 ; Candish, 1586 ; Oliver 
 Noort, 1599; Le Maire, 1615; Tasman, 1642; 
 John Cook, 1683 ; Woodes Eodgers, 1708 ; 
 Clipperton, 1719 ; Slielvocke, at the same tune. 
 There was another route laid down across the 
 ocean, much more devious than any of the 
 others, and without name, and marked in red 
 ink. 
 
 When these maps w^re spread out upon the 
 table, Mr. Brinjes rose and stood gazing upon 
 them, as if, by the mere contemplation of the 
 coast lines, he was enabled actually to see the 
 places which he had visited or heard of. There 
 w^as no place in the whole world that is visited 
 by ships (because I do not pretend that Mr. 
 Brinjes knew the interior of the great con- 
 tinents) whereof he could not speak as from 
 personal knowledge, describing its appearance, 
 the character of the people, the soundings, and 
 the nature of the port or roadstead. 
 
 But mostly Mr. Brinjes loved to talk of 
 pirates, rovers, or adventurers, whether of 
 Queen Elizabeth's reign, when they had a 
 golden time indeed, or of our own time, which
 
 VERY WELL THEN 23 
 
 has seen many of these gentry ; though now, 
 instead of receiving knighthood, as was 
 formerly the custom, they are generally taken 
 ashore and hoisted on a gibbet. Thus, Mr. 
 Brinjes would lay his forefinger on the island 
 of Madagascar, and tell us of Captain Avery 
 and his settlement on the north of this great 
 island, where every one of his men became like 
 a little "^Sultan or King, each with a troop of 
 slaves, and being no better than Pagans, every 
 man with a seraglio of black wives. For 
 aught anybody knows to the contrary, they or 
 their sons are living on the island in splendour 
 to this day, though their fomous captain hath 
 long since been dead. Or he would point out 
 the island of Providence, in the Bahamas, where 
 there was formerly a rendezvous, which con- 
 tinued for many years, of those who combined 
 together to prey upon the Spanish commerce. 
 'And think not, boys,' said Mr. Brinjes, 
 solemnly, ' that to sail in search of the great 
 Plate ships can be called piracy, for pirates are 
 the common enemies of all flags, and must be 
 hanged when they are taken prisoners ; where-
 
 24 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 as, he wlio takes or sinks a Spanish vessel 
 performs a meritorious action, and one that he 
 will remember with gratitude upon his death- 
 bed, since they are a nation more bloodthirsty, 
 cruel, and avaricious than any other, -and 
 Papists to boot. It is true that there were 
 some of those who sailed from Providence, that 
 took other ships, of whom Major Bonnet was 
 one. Boys, I knew the Major well. He was 
 a gentleman of good family from Barbadoes, 
 and I cannot but think that he was unlawfully 
 hanged, the evidence being suborned. A man 
 of kindly and pleasing manners, who loved the 
 bowl and a song, and was greatly loved by all 
 his crew and those who knew him. But he is 
 gone now, and those like unto him as well, so 
 that the Spaniard sails the Atlantic in peace, 
 though we have robbed him of some of his 
 dominions. Alas ! what things the Spanish 
 Main hath witnessed ! what deeds of daring, 
 and what suiTerings ! ' 
 
 Then he pushed this chart aside, and con- 
 sidered that which showed the West Coast of 
 Africa, a part of the world which he regarded
 
 VEI^V WELL THEN 25 
 
 with a particular admiration, thougli I have 
 always understood that it is full of fevers and 
 diseases of a deadly kind. He knew, indeed, 
 all the harbours, creeks, river mouths, and 
 other places from Old Calabar to the Gambia, 
 where sucli notorious desperadoes as Captain 
 Teach, otherwise called Blackbeard, or as 
 Captain Bartholomew Eoberts, made their 
 rendezvous, where they refitted, and whence 
 they sailed to plunder the merchantmen of all 
 countries. These men Mr. Brinjes knew well, 
 and spoke of them as if they had been friends 
 of his own, and especially the latter. I know 
 not in what manner he acquired this knowledg'3 
 of a man who was certainly a most profligate 
 villain. He it was whose squadron of three 
 ships was destroyed by Captain Sir Chaloner 
 Ogle, of the ' Swallow,' in the year 172l^ the 
 pirate himself being killed in the first broad- 
 side, and fifty-two of his men afterwards hung in 
 chains along the coast near Cape Coast Castle. 
 
 'Boys,' said Mr. Brinjes, 'those who know 
 not the West Coast of Africa know not what 
 it is to live. What? Here, there are magis-
 
 26 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 trates and laws ; there., every man does what 
 he pleases. Here, the rich take all ; there, all 
 is divided. Here, men go to law ; there, men 
 fight it out. What do they know liere of the 
 fierce passions which burn in men's hearts 
 under the African sun ? There is summer all 
 the year round ; there are fruits which you 
 
 can never taste ; there are but you would 
 
 not understand. How long ago shice I have 
 seen those green shores and wooded hills, and 
 watched the black girls lying in the sun, and 
 took my punch with the merry blades who 
 now are dead and gone? Strange that the 
 world should be so full of fine places, and w^e 
 should be content to live in this land of fog 
 and cold ! ' 
 
 Then he pushed this chart aw^ay also, and 
 took another, that of the great Pacific Ocean, 
 marked, as I have said, with half a dozen 
 routes, and especially by a broad red line, 
 without a name or date. When Mr. Brinjes 
 laid his finger on this route he became serious 
 and thoughtful. 
 
 ' It is forty years,' he began, ' forty years
 
 VERY WELL THEN 27 
 
 since I sailed upon these seas. Of all the 
 crew, doth any survive save me alone ? Forty 
 years ! The men v/ere not so fierce as those on 
 the West Coast — the air is milder — they would 
 rest and sleep in the shade rather than fight. 
 Forty vears a<j;o ! ' 
 
 The boys were silent till he should choose 
 to tell us more. 
 
 'On board that ship I was rated as surgeon, 
 and at first had plenty to do, sewing up wounds 
 and heahng broken heads ; for, though there 
 was a rule against fighting, it was a reckless 
 company of rum- drinking, quarrelsome, fight- 
 mcf devils as ever trod the deck. We had 
 music on board : two horns, till one fell over- 
 board ; two violins, and a Welsh harp. In the 
 evening, when there was no fighting, there 
 was music and dancing. 'Twas a happy 
 barky. It was a merchantman, and we 
 shipped our crew and fitted out at Kingston 
 first and Providence next.' 
 
 ' Where the pirates used to assemble ? ' 
 said Jack. 
 
 'True. The crew were mostly rovers.
 
 28 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 What then? If you venture mto the Pacific 
 you must needs carry a fighting crew. We 
 had plenty of arms and ammunition ; and not 
 a man on board but had been in a dozen 
 actions by sea and land. But only a merchant- 
 man.' 
 
 Jack shook his head, as if there were 
 doubts in his mind ; then he laughed. Mr. 
 Brinjes laid his hand on the red line where it 
 began at Providence Island. 
 
 ' Forty years ago ! It was a voyage among 
 seas where there's never a chart ; among reefs 
 and rocks not laid down, and along shores no 
 sailors knew. The end of the voyage was 
 disastrous, but the beginning promised well, 
 for the men were full of heart if ever men 
 were, and the prize we were after was worth 
 taking.' 
 
 ' Prize ? ' said Jack, ' for a merchantman ? ' 
 
 ' Merchantman she was, this side Cape 
 Horn. I only meant this side. When you 
 double the Cape that is another matter. A 
 man in those seas sails as happy under the 
 Jolly Eoger as under the Union Jack. A
 
 VERY WELL THEN 29 
 
 mercliantniaii she was, built at Bristol, cliris- 
 tened the ' King Solomon,' 400 tons ; and when 
 we sailed she carried twenty-two long nine- 
 pounders, and two three-pounders, with a crew 
 of 170 men, besides a dozen or so of negro 
 slaves. Don't you forget, my lad, there's only 
 two flags in those seas — the Spaniard and the 
 Jolly Eoger. Take your choice, therefore.' 
 He paused, to let that choice be taken. ' We 
 sailed throug^h Maizellan's Straits, takincj six 
 weeks over the job, what with contrary winds 
 and storms. When we got out of that place — 
 which, I take it, is the worst navicration in the 
 world — we steered nearly due north for Juan 
 Fernandez, where the Spaniards go from the 
 South American ports to fish. Here it is on the 
 chart.' His fins^er was followinc^ the red track. 
 ' A might}^ pretty place it is. This is where 
 Woodes Eodgers set ashore one of his men and 
 left him alone. After watering, we sailed away, 
 still north, to the Galapagos Islands, where the 
 pirates rendezvous.' 
 
 ' They were pirates, then, after all ? ' Jack 
 interrupted.
 
 30 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ' The Spaniards call them such ; whereas, if 
 they do fly the black flag, it is only to strike 
 more terror into the enemy and make them 
 quicker to cry for quarter. Pirates, were w^e ? 
 Well ; pirates or not, there was no man on 
 board that craft but was an honest Englishman 
 by birth. At Galapagos Islands we laid up to 
 scrape and tallow the vessel, and to cure the 
 scurvy, which had already broken out, with the 
 limes and oranges and bananas wdiich grow wild 
 there, as well as the tobacco plant. The pigs 
 run wild there, too ; and if the wells only ran 
 rum as well as water, one might as well be in 
 Heaven at once ; and there would be no need 
 for the sailor to put to sea any more, nor any 
 wisdom in leaving those islands.' He sighed, 
 thinking of pleasant days in the Galapagos. 
 ' But we were not cruising in these seas for 
 pleasure, and we had our work to do. Where- 
 fore, we made haste and e^ot to sea ae^ain. 
 What were we cruising for? Why, my lads, in 
 hopes of coming across the great Spanish galleon, 
 which goes twice every year from Manilla to 
 Acapulco and back laden with treasure, so that
 
 VERY WELL THEN 31 
 
 every man on board, could we take that sliip, 
 would be made for life. 
 
 ' When we left the Galapagos, every man's 
 heart was light, and there was nothing on board 
 but drinking, singing, and gambling, with a fair 
 wind, and tlie ship taut and trim, and within a 
 few days of the Spaniard's course. He sails 
 these seas as if they were his own, with never a 
 thought of trouble or meeting an enemy. We 
 had fair weather for ten days, making; at a 
 guess, a hundred and eighty knots a day on a 
 nor'-west course ; so that, after a week or so, 
 we were in the latitude of Acapulco, and, 
 according to my observations, t^v^o hundred 
 miles west of that port — that is to say, almost 
 in the track of the galleons, which sail, as is well 
 known, in an even course about ]at. 13° I^. 
 And for why ? If you set sail from Mauilla — 
 here,' he pointed out that distant island on the 
 chart, ' through the Strait of ffindovo, and past 
 Cape Espiritu Santo, you have got, between the 
 Ladrones and Acapulco, which is close upon two 
 thousand knots, nothing but blue water. If any 
 otiier nation beside the Spanish held these 'seas.
 
 32 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 they would have been everywhere navigated 
 lonir Hixo. But these lubbers care for nothino- 
 l)ut to keep out of danger ; wherefore 
 they sail where there are no islands. Some- 
 times, by reason of contrary winds and the 
 compass, which veers about in these waters as if 
 the Devil had it, these ships are blown nortli 
 and soutli. I have conversed with Spanish 
 sailors who had been thus driven nortli, and they 
 reported open seas, though the charts and maps 
 do still lay down a continent between Asia and 
 America. 
 
 ' It is a most terrible voyage, full of dangers 
 on account of the tempests which blow there, 
 and because the (3rews have to live so long on 
 salted provisions and bad water, whereby many 
 grievous diseases are engendered, of which I 
 learned something. There is, for instance, that 
 disease which the Spaniards call the Lobillo, 
 which doth commonly fall upon men who have 
 been living at sea for many weeks upon this diet. 
 I do not know the remedies, if any tliere be, 
 for this affliction, whereby the body swells u]) 
 like a bladder which is blown out, and tlie
 
 VERY WELL THEN 33 
 
 patient falls to prattling and babbling, until he 
 dies. There is also what they call the Dutcli 
 Disease, which attacks the gums, and is, I take 
 it, nothing but scurvy, and can only be cured 
 by being set ashore. Then there is an intoler- 
 able itching of the whole body, caused by the 
 saltness the of beef and of the air. For this there 
 is no remedy but patience and limes, when these 
 can be procured. There are insects also, which, 
 the Spaniards call Gorgojos, which are said to 
 be bred in the biscuit, and creep into the body, 
 under the skin, whence they are difficult to 
 dislodge, and do itcli intolerably, day and night ; 
 so that some have been known to go mad with 
 the discomfort of it and have leaped overboard. 
 
 ' When, therefore, we were in the latitude 
 where we might expect any day to see a sail 
 — every sail being a Spanish ship, and every 
 Spanish ship a rich galleon — a reward was 
 offered to him who could first spy a sail. But 
 here we were unlucky, for a hurricane fell upon 
 us, drove us off our course, and for four days 
 we scudded, looking for nothing else but de- 
 struction, being too low in the waist and too 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 ■• THE WORLD WENT 
 
 \\YJ\\ in the stern for sucli weather. However, 
 by the Lord's help, the storm at length abated ; 
 but not before we were driven a long way north 
 of our course, and in sight of the great island 
 named California.' He covered it with his 
 thumb. ' Nobod}^ hath yet circumnavigated 
 this island ; but it is reported mountainous and 
 sterile. Yet — Lord ! what a place for rovers 
 when they get the sense to make here a set- 
 tlement for the annoyance of the Spaniard ! 
 Madagascar itself was not more plainly marked 
 out by Providence for the use of rovers. I am 
 old now, or else would I plant a colony myself, 
 with a fleet of half a dozen frigates and a few 
 lust sailing-sloops, and so destroy the Spanish 
 trade of the Pacific. No European sail, I take 
 it, hath gone further north.' 
 
 Lideed, the coast line at this point was 
 dotted to sliow that it was conjectural ; it ran 
 straight across the Pacific, in the line of latitude 
 
 35 N., to join the coast of China. 
 
 ' The storm then abating, we repaired 
 damages, and set sail again, designing to shape 
 our course southward, with the view of getting
 
 VERY WELL THEN 35 
 
 once more into tlie enemy's course. That night, 
 I remember J the hght of Saint Ehno showed 
 upon the foretop, at which we greatly rejoiced, 
 as a certain sign and promise of fair weather, 
 and every man saluted it mannerly as they use 
 in the Mediterranean. On the sixth day after 
 the storm, we sighted an island not laid down 
 on any chart ; but we touched not at it. 
 Three days later, the sea having been as smooth 
 as the Pool of the Thames, we made land 
 again. This time it was the island of Donna 
 Maria Laxara, so called after a Spanish lady, 
 who here leaped overboard and drowned her- 
 self for love. But mark the ways of Pro- 
 vidence ! If it had not been for that tempest, 
 which drove us off om^ course — Avhat happened 
 afterwards never would have happened.' 
 
 ' What did happen ? ' 
 
 ' A stranoje thino. The strancjest tlnno; that 
 ever you heard of. If you want to be rich, 
 Jack, my lad, I will some day teach you how ; 
 and that in the easiest way you can imagine. 
 If I live— alas ! ' 
 
 ' What way ? Tell me now.' 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 But Mr. Brinjes would tell no more. He 
 continued gazing at the cliart, and following an 
 imaginary course with his forefinger, as if he 
 loved the recollection of that voyage, even 
 though the end of it had been disastrous. Then 
 he pushed it from him with a sigh. 
 
 ' Forty years ago, it was, boys. Forty years 
 ago.' 
 
 It was in this way, among others, that Jack 
 acquired the knowledge of geography and the 
 thirst which continually grew greater for voyag- 
 ing among the strange and unknown parts of 
 the habitable world. In the end, as you shall 
 near, no one went farther afield or had more 
 adventures.
 
 VERY WELL THEN 37 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW JACK CAME TO DEPTFORD. 
 
 F these two boys, one — namely, Jack 
 
 Easterbrook — was not a native born 
 
 of Deptford, but of Gosport. And 
 
 since it is his history that has to 
 
 be related, it is well that the manner of his 
 
 coming, and the nature of his early life, should 
 
 be first set forth. 
 
 On a certain warm summer afternoon, in 
 the year of grace seventeen hundred and forty- 
 four, when I, who write this history, was but a 
 child of seven, and Castilla six (we are now 
 nearing three score years, and on the down- 
 ward slope of life), there sat beneath the shade 
 of a great walnut-tree, on a smooth bowling- 
 green,^ two gentlemen and a lady ; the former 
 on a rustic bench of twisted and misshapen 
 branches, or roots, and the latter in an elbow-
 
 38 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 chair. The lady, who had a small lace cap on 
 her head and wore a laced apron, held a book 
 in her hands ; but the hands and book lay in 
 her lap, and her eyes were closed. The two 
 gentlemen were taking an afternoon pipe of 
 tobacco. One of them — this was Eear- Admiral 
 Sayer — was at this time some fifty-five years of 
 age. He wore a blue coat with gold buttons, 
 but it was without the famous white facings 
 which His Majesty King George the Second 
 afterwards commanded for the uniform of his 
 naval officers ; his right leg had been lost in 
 action, and was replaced by a wooden leg, now 
 stuck out straight before him, as he sat on the 
 bench. He had also lost his left arm, and one 
 sleeve of his coat was empty. He wore a full 
 wig of George the First's time ; his face was 
 full, his cheeks red, and his eyebrows thick and 
 fierce, yet his eyes were kindly. There was 
 a scar across his forehead, which a Moorish 
 scimitar had laid bare. 
 
 His companion wore the wig and cassock of 
 a clergyman ; he was, in fact, the Yicar of St. 
 Paul's, Deptford. At the back of the bowhng-
 
 VERY WELL THEN 39 
 
 green stood the house — of modern erection — 
 with a pediment of stone, and pilasters, and a 
 stone porch, very fine ; on either side of the 
 house was the garden, filled with fruit-trees and 
 beds for vegetables. The garden was sur- 
 rounded by a brick wall, older than the house, 
 covered with lichen, stonecrop, wall-pellitory, 
 yellow wallflovv^ers and long grasses. The 
 house and garden v/ere protected by great iron 
 gates, within which marched, all day long, an 
 old negro in the Admiral's livery, and wearing 
 a cockade, armed with a cutlass. A small 
 carronade stood beside the gates, for the 
 purpose of announcing sunrise and sunset ; and 
 there was a mast, with standing gear and yards 
 complete, at tlie head of whicli fioated the 
 Union Jack. Two children were playing witii 
 tlie bowls on the grass ; and in a chair, so 
 placed that the hot sunshine could fall with the 
 greatest effect upon her face, there sat a negress, 
 already old, a red cotton handkerchief twisted 
 round her head, and in her lap lay some knitting. 
 But Philadelphy, like her mistress, was sound 
 asleep.
 
 40 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 It was a sleepy afternoon. The drones and 
 the bumble-bees — ' dumbledores,' we called 
 them — buzzed lazily about the flowers ; the 
 doves cooed sleepily from the dovecot; there 
 was a hen not far off which expressed her satis- 
 faction with the weather, and her brood, by a 
 continual and comfortable ' took — took — took ' ; 
 the great dog lay asleep at the Admiral's foot, 
 the cat was asleep beside it ; from the trees 
 there came, now and then, the contented note 
 of a blackbird ; and the flag at the mast, which 
 was rigged within the iron gates, hung in folds, 
 flapping lazily in the light air. The tAvo 
 children played, for the most part, in silence, or 
 else in whispers, so as not to awaken Phil- 
 adelphy. The two gentlemen smoked their 
 tobacco in silence — it was not a day for talk- 
 ing ; besides, they saw each other nearly 
 every day, and therefore each knew the other's 
 sentiments, and there was no room for dis- 
 cussion. 
 
 Suddenly, there were heard footsteps out- 
 side, and, just as one awakes out of a dream, so 
 all started and became instantly wide-awake.
 
 VERY WELL THEN 41 
 
 Madame took up lier book, the Admiral 
 straightened his back, the Vicar knocked the 
 ashes out of his pipe, and the children ran to the 
 gates which Cudjo, the negro, threw wide open, 
 a grin of welcome on his lips. Then there 
 appeared a boy, dressed in a blue coat, not 
 made for him, and too long in the sleeves, worn 
 and shabby, dusty with travel, with brass 
 buttons ; his knitted stockings were torn, 
 showins^ his bare leo-s ; he wore a common 
 speckled shirt like the watermen's children ; on 
 his head was a little three-cornered hat, cocked 
 in nautical fashion. He strutted proudly across 
 the grass, regardless of his rags, with as much 
 importance as if he had been a full-blown 
 Midshipman. For my own part, I have never 
 lost, to this day, the sense of his superiority 
 to myself and the rest of mankind. Castilla 
 makes the same confession. Like myself, she 
 owns that, child as she then was, she felt her 
 inferiority to a boy so masterful. He was at 
 this time, and always, a singularly handsome 
 boy — tall and big for his age, his head thrown 
 back, his brown eyes full of fire, and his hand
 
 42 ■ THE WORLD WENT 
 
 at all times ready to become a fist. His hair 
 was long, and lay in curls, and untied, upon 
 his shoulders. After him walked the negro 
 who had brought him from Gosport, and no^v 
 carried on his shoulder a box containing all the 
 boy's worldly goods. They consisted of a toy- 
 ship, carved for him by some sailor at Gosport ; 
 a pistol which had been his father's ; his 
 mother's Bible, a Church prayer-book, and a 
 knife. This was all the inheritance of the poor 
 boy. As the servant bore this precious box 
 through tlie gates, he knocked the corner 
 ag;ainst the rails. 
 
 'Steady,' said the boy, turning sharply 
 round, ' steady with the kit, ye lubber ! ' 
 
 The First Lieutenant himself could not 
 have admonished a man more haughtily. Then 
 he halted, and took a leisurely observation of 
 tlie scene. Presently he espied the Admiral, 
 and, recognising in his appearance and dress 
 something nautical — it would have been diffi- 
 cult to mistake the Admiral for anything but a 
 sailor— Jack stepped across the lawn, lugged 
 off his hat with a duck and a bend, and said,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 43 
 
 ' Come aboard, Sir. With submission and 
 dutiful respect, Admiral.' 
 
 The Admiral laid down his pipe and leaned 
 forward, hand on knee, his wooden leg sticking 
 out before him. 
 
 ' So,' he said, ' this looks like the son of my 
 old friend. What is thy name, child P ' 
 
 ' Jack Easterbrook, Sir.' 
 
 ' The son of my old shipmate ? ' 
 
 ' The same, Sir.' 
 
 'Parson,' said the Admiral, 'forty-live years 
 ago I was just such a little shaver as this, and 
 so was his fother. Hang me, if the boy isn't a 
 sailor already. Thy father, boy, was carried 
 off by a sunstroke, while his ship was lying in 
 Kingston Harbour.' 
 
 ' Yes, Sir.' 
 
 ' In command of His Majesty's frigate, 
 " Eacehorse," forty-four.' 
 
 ' The same. Sir.' 
 
 ' And thy mother, poor soul ! is dead and 
 gone too.' 
 
 ' Yes, Sir,' said the boy, looking for a 
 moment as if he would cry. But it passed.
 
 44 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 The Admiral took his stick, and rose from his 
 chair. 
 
 ' Let us,' he said, gravely, ' overhaul the 
 boy a bit. Thy father. Jack, was the best 
 officer in His Majesty's service — the very best 
 officer, whether for navigation or for fighting, 
 which is the reason why they kept him back, 
 and promoted the reptiles who crawl up the 
 back-stairs. He was with me when I planted 
 the Union Jack on the island of Tobago. Look 
 me in the face, sirrah — so. A tall and proper 
 lad. A brave and gallant lad. What shall we 
 make of him ? ' 
 
 Jack's face l^ecame a lively crimson at this 
 question. We were now all gathered round 
 liim — Castilla looking shyly, and wi'h admiring 
 eyes ; and I, for my own part, thinking that 
 liere was the finest and bravest boy I had ever 
 set eyes on. 
 
 ' Well, now,' said the Admiral, holding the 
 boy's chin in his hand, and looking at him 
 steadily, ' I warrant. Parson, this boy will be 
 all for book-learning, and we must make him a 
 scholar, eh ? Then, some day, he shall rise to
 
 VERY WELL THEN 45 
 
 be a Eeverend Doctor of Divinity, a Dean, or 
 even a Bishop in lawn sleeves. What sayest 
 thou, Jack ? ' Here the Admiral took his hand 
 from the boy's chin, shut one eye, and looked 
 mighty cunning. 
 
 Jack shook his head dolefully, and tlien 
 laughed, looking up as if he knew very well 
 that this was a joke. 
 
 ' Well, well, there are other things. We 
 can make thee a compounder of boluses, and so 
 thou shalt ride in a coach and wear a great 
 wig, and call thyself physician. 'Tis a fme 
 trade, and a fat, when fevers are abroad.' 
 
 But Jack again shook liis head, and 
 laughed. This was a really fine joke, one 
 that can be carried en a lono^ time. 
 
 ' He will not be a physician. The boy is 
 hard to please. Well, lie can, if he likes, 
 become a lawj-er, and wear a black gown, 
 and argue a poor fellow to the gallows. Of 
 such they make Lord Chancellors. At sea 
 their name is Shark.' 
 
 ' No, Sir,' said Jack w^ith decision, because 
 every joke hath its due limits. ' No, Sir, I
 
 46 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 thank you. With submission, Sir, I cannot be 
 a lawyer.' 
 
 ' Here is a boy for you. One would think he 
 was too good for this world. Perhaps he would 
 like to wear His Majesty's scarlet, and follow 
 the drum and fife, and fight the King's enemies 
 on land. It is as orreat an honour to bear the 
 King's commission by land as by sea. It is a 
 good service, too, when wars are going : though 
 in times of peace there is too much disbanding 
 by half. But a lad might do worse. Think 
 of it. Jack ! ' 
 
 ' Oh ! Sir,' said Jack, colouring again, ' I 
 would not be a soldier.' 
 
 ' Then, Jack, Jack, do thy looks belie thee? 
 What? Would'st not surely choose to be a 
 sneakin' snivelhng quill-driver in a merchant's 
 office ? ' 
 
 ' No, Sir ; I would rather starve ! Sir,' 
 said Jack, his eyes flashing, ' I would be a 
 sailor, if only before the mast ! ' 
 
 ' Why, there ! ' cried the Admiral, laying 
 his hand on the boy's head. ' What else could 
 the boy be ? He is salt all through. Hark ye,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 47 
 
 my lad : do thy duty and thou shalt be a sailor, 
 as thy father was before thee. Ay, and shalt 
 stand in good time upon thy own quarter-deck 
 and carry thy ship into action, as bravely as 
 thy fjithcr, or even good old Benbow himself.' 
 
 Thus came Jack to Deptford, being then 
 nine years of age. 
 
 Some things there are — I mean not travel- 
 lers' tales of one-legged men, and such as have 
 their heads between their shoulders, and griffins 
 and such monsters ; but things which happen 
 among ourselves and in our midst, which are 
 so strange that the narration of them must 
 be supported by whatever character of truth, 
 honesty, and soberness of mind ma}^ be pos- 
 sessed by the narrator, and those who pretend 
 to have been eye-witnesses. As regards the 
 history which follows it is proper to explain 
 that there is, besides myself, only one other 
 person who knows all the particulars. Mr. 
 Brinjes, it is true, knew them ; but he has gone 
 away long since, and must now, I think, certainly 
 be dead. The Admiral, before his death, was
 
 48 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 told the truth, which greatly comforted him in 
 his last moments ; and I thought it right to tell 
 all I knew to my father, who was much moved 
 by the strangeness of the circumstances, and 
 quoted certain passages from Holy Writ as 
 regards the practice of witchcraft and magic. 
 Perhaps the man, Aaron Fletcher, knew some- 
 thinor of the truth, but in the end he was con- 
 victed as a notorious smuggler, and sentenced 
 to transportation to His Majesty's plantations, 
 where he died of a calenture, being unable to 
 endure the excessive and scorching heat of the 
 sun, and his spirit broken by the overseer's 
 whip. Everybody, it is true, knows how 
 Captain Easterbrook brought his ship home 
 and what followed. This is a matter of 
 notoriety. There is not a man, woman, or 
 child but can tell you the astonishing and 
 wonderful story, the like of which has never 
 been in the history of the British Navy. They 
 have even made a ballad of it, very moving, 
 which is sung in the sailors' mug-houses, not 
 only in Deptford itself, but in Portsmouth, 
 Woolwich, Sheerness, Chatham, and Plymouth.
 
 VERY WELL THEN 49 
 
 But to know one fact is not to know the whole 
 history. 
 
 As for me, who design to write the truth 
 concerning this strange history, it is well that 
 you who read it should know that I take 
 myself to be a person of reputable life and 
 of sober judgment, and one who has the fear 
 of God in his mind, and would not willingly 
 give circulation to lying fables. My father, the 
 Kev. Luke Anguish, Artium Magister, formerly 
 of St. John's College, Cambridge, of which 
 society he was a Fellow, Avas the first Yicar of 
 St. Paul's Church, Deptford ; the new church, 
 that is, in the upper part of the town, which 
 was completed in the year 1736. By calling, 
 I am a painter in oil colours ; not, I dare say, 
 a Sir Joshua Eeynolds or a Gainsborough, yet 
 of no mean repute as a painter of ships. It 
 were unworthy of me to say more than that 
 my pictures have met with approbation 
 from persons of rank, and that I have been 
 honoured by the highest patronage, even by 
 members of the House of Lords, not to 
 speak of the Lord Mayor and Aldermen. As 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 for the contention of Castilla, that her husband 
 is the finest painter of ships ever known, that 
 may be the partiahty of a jealous and tender 
 spouse. I am contented to leave the judgment 
 of my work to those who shall follow after me. 
 I do not paint ships upon the ocean, because I 
 have never yet gazed upon the ocean, and know 
 not, except from pictures, how the sea sliould 
 be painted, or a ship rolling upon the sea. My 
 subjects are sliips in harbour, ships lying oil 
 Deptford Creek, ships in dock, ships in building, 
 ships in ordinary, ships ashore, ships in the 
 Pool, ships sailing up and down the river, and 
 especially with the sun in the west shining on 
 the sails, and painting all the cordage as of 
 gold, just as happened when Jack brought 
 home his prize ; also ships lying in an autumnal 
 fog, and great barges sunk down to an inch of 
 freeboard with their cargoes of hay. Nothing 
 finer can be painted, to my mind, than the 
 picture of such a barge lying on a still and 
 misty clay, w^ith the sun overhead like a plate 
 of copper, the brown sails half lowered, and 
 the ropes hanging loose.
 
 VERY WELL THEN 51 
 
 I suppose that tlie best place in the world 
 for a boy who is about to become a sailor, as 
 well as for one who loves to paint ships, must 
 be Deptford, which seems to many so mean 
 and despicable a town. Mean and despicable 
 to Jack and to myself it W'Ould never be, 
 because here our boyhood was spent, and here 
 ^ve played with Castilla ; liere we first learned 
 to sit by the river-side and watch the craft go 
 up and down, with those at anclior, and those 
 in dock. At Deptford, where the water is 
 never rough enough to capsize a tilt-boat, we 
 are at the very gates of London, we can actually 
 see the Pool ; we are, in a word, on the Thames. 
 
 The Thames is not, I believe, the largest 
 river in the world. The great Oroonoko is 
 broader, and, I dare say, longer ; the Nile is 
 certainlv a neater stream. Yet there is no 
 other river which is so majestic by reason of 
 its shipping and its trade. For hither come 
 ships, laden with palm-oil and ivory, from the 
 Guinea Coast ; from Norway and Eiga, with 
 wood and tallow ; from Holland, with stuffs 
 and spices and provisions of all kind ; from the 
 
 E 2 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of ILLINOIS
 
 52 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 West Indies, with rum and sugar ; from the 
 East Indies with rice ; from China with tea and 
 silk ; from Arabia, with coffee ; from I^ew- 
 castle, with coaL There is no kind of mer- 
 chandise produced in the world which is not 
 carried up the Thames to the Port of London. 
 And there is no kind of ship or boat, built to 
 swim in the sea, except, I suppose, the Chinese 
 junk, the Morisco galley, or the piratical craft of 
 the Eastern Seas, which does not lie at anchor 
 in the Thames, somewhere between Greenwich 
 Eeach and London Bridge. East Indiamen, 
 brigs, brigantines, schooners, yachts, sloops, 
 galliots, tenders, coUiers, hoys, barges, smacks, 
 herring-busses, or hog-boats — all are here. 
 And not only these, which are peaceful ships, 
 only armed with carronades and muskets for 
 defence against pirates, but also His Majesty's 
 men-of-war — frigates, sloops-of-Avar, cutters, 
 fire-sbips, and every kind of vessel employed 
 to beat off the enemies of the country, who 
 wouki prey upon our commerce and destroy 
 our merchantmen. On that very day when 
 Jack came, was there not, lying off Deptford
 
 VERY WELL THEN 
 
 57 
 
 Creek, the ' Eecloubtable,' having received her 
 stores, provisions, and ammunition, and noAv 
 waiting her captain and her crew? — and I 
 warrant the press-gang were busy at Wapping 
 and at EatchfTe. Beside her lay the sloop-of- 
 war ' Yenus,' and the pink ' Lively ' ; and, off the 
 dock-mouth, was the ' Hector,'* lying in ordinary, 
 a broad canvas tilt or awning rigged up from 
 stem to stern. So that those who look up 
 and down the river from Deptford Stairs see 
 not only the outward and visible proofs of 
 England's trade, but also those of England's 
 greatness. Or, again — which may be useful to 
 the painter — one may see, not only at Deptford 
 and at Eedriff, but above the river — at Wap- 
 ping, Shadwell, and Blackwall — every kind of 
 sailor ; they are mostly ahke in manners and 
 in morals, and one hopes that to sailors much 
 is pardoned, and that from them little is ex- 
 pected ; but they differ in their speech and in 
 their dress. There is the phlegmatic Hollander, 
 never without his pipe ; the mild Norwegian ; 
 the fiery Spaniard, ready with his dagger ; the 
 fierce Itaian equally ready with his knife ; the
 
 54 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 treacherous Greek; and the Frenchman. But 
 the last we generally see — since it is our lot to 
 be often at war with his nation — as a prisoner, 
 when he comes to us half-starved, ragged, and 
 in very evil plight. Yet, give these poor 
 French prisoners only warmth, light, and food, 
 and they will turn out to be most light-hearted 
 and merry blades, always cheerful and ready 
 to talk, sing, and dance, and always making 
 ingenious things with a knife and a piece of 
 wood. Perhaps, if we knew this people better, 
 and they knew us better, we should be less 
 ready to go to war with each other. 
 
 Those who live in such a town as Deptford, 
 and continually witness this procession of ships, 
 cannot choose but be sensible of the greatness 
 of the country, and must perforce talk con- 
 tinually with each other of foreign ports and 
 places beyond the ocean. Also because they 
 witness the coming and going of the King's 
 ships (some of them pretty well battered on 
 their return, I promise you) ; and because they 
 hear, all day long, and never ending, save on 
 Sunday, the sound of hammer and of saw, the
 
 VERY WELL THEN 55 
 
 wliistliiiG; of the bo's'ns and foremen, the rolling 
 of casks, the ringing of bells, and all the noise 
 which accompanies the building and the fitting 
 of ships ; and smell perpetually the tar and the 
 pitch (which some love better than the smell of 
 roses and of violets), they cannot refrain from 
 talking continually of actions at sea, feats of 
 bravery, and the like. All the townspeople 
 talk of these things, and of little else. And, 
 besides, in these years there was the more 
 reason for this kind of conversation, because 
 we were always at war with France and Spahi ; 
 fighting, among other things, to drive the 
 French out of America, and so to enable the 
 ungrateful colonies to make us, shortly after- 
 wards, follow the lead of tlie French. Every 
 day there came fresh news of actions, skir- 
 mishes, captures, wrecks, burnings. The Chan- 
 nel and the Bay of Biscay swarmed with 
 French privateers as thick as wasps in an 
 orchard. There was not a lugger on the coast 
 of Normandy but stole out of a night to pick 
 up some English craft ; every ficet of mer- 
 chantmen sailed under convoy, and every sailor
 
 56 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 looked for death or a French prison unless he 
 would fight it out unto the end. 
 
 The people of London are strangely in- 
 curious — many there are who know nothing 
 about the very monuments standing in their 
 midst — and so that they can read every day 
 the news from France and Spain, they care little 
 about their own country. Therefore Deptford, 
 which lies at their very gates, is as little known 
 to them as if it were in Wales. Some, it is 
 true, come every year on St. Luke's Day, to 
 join the rabble at Horn Fair, landing at Eother- 
 hithe and walking to Charlton with the pro- 
 cession of mad wags who carry horns on their 
 heads to that scene of debauchery and riot ; 
 and once a year, on Trinity Monday, the Elders 
 of the Trinity House assemble at the Great 
 Hall behind St. Nicolas', and after business go 
 to church, and after church dinner at the Gun 
 Tavern on the Green. And the ships of the 
 Eoyal Navy come and go at the Eoyal Yard 
 almost daily. Some, again, and those fine 
 ladies, come to Barnes Alley, where they can 
 buy the run tea, at ten shillings a pound, of the
 
 V£/^V WELL THEN 57 
 
 smugglers who swarm in that evil-smelhng 
 street. Otherwise Deptford hath few visitors. 
 I do not say that it is a beautiful city, though, 
 as for streets, we have the Green and Church 
 Street ; and as for monuments, until late years 
 there were the great House and gardens of 
 Saye's Court, now lying desolate and miserable, 
 partly inclosed in the King's Yard and partly 
 given over to rank weeds and puddles. Here 
 it was that the great Peter, Czar of Muscovy, 
 once lived. There are also the two churches 
 of St. Nicolas and St. Paul, both stately build- 
 ings, and temples fit for worship, the latter 
 especially, which is — like its sister churches 
 built about the same time, of Limehouse, 
 St. George's EatchfTe, Bethnal Green, Hackney, 
 St. Martin's-in-the Fields, and many others — 
 majestic with its vast round portico of stone, 
 and its commanding terrace. Then there are 
 the two hospitals or almshouses, both named 
 after the Holy Trinity, for decayed mariners 
 and their widows. To my own mind these 
 monuments of benevolence, which stand so 
 thickly all round London, are fairer than the
 
 58 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 most magniiicent King's palace of which we 
 can read. Let the Great Bashaw have as many 
 gilded palaces as he pleases for himself and his 
 seraglio ; let our palaces be those which are 
 worthy of a free people — namely, homes and 
 places of refuge for the aged, and deserving 
 poor, and tliose who are quite spent and now 
 past work. 
 
 I suppose there are few places richer and 
 more fortunate thanDeptford audits neighbour, 
 Greenwich, in these foundations. At tlie latter 
 place, there is the great and noble Naval 
 Hospital, now inhabited by nearly two thousand 
 honest veterans — they will never, be sure, be 
 turned out of this, their stately home, until 
 England hath lost her pride in her sailors. 
 There is Morden College for decayed merchants ; 
 there is Norfolk, also called Trinity, College, 
 for the poor of Greenwich, and of Dersingham, 
 in Norfolk ; and there is Queen Elizabeth's 
 Hospital for poor women. So, at Deptford, we 
 have those two noble foundations, both named 
 after the Holy Trinity, one behind St. Nicolas', 
 and the other behind St. Paul's, the latter
 
 VERY WELL THEN 59 
 
 especially being a goodly structure, ^vitli a fair 
 quadrangular court, a commodious hall, and 
 gardens fitted for quiet meditation and for rest 
 in the sunshine during the latest trembling years 
 of life. I do not think that even Morden Col- 
 lege itself, with its canal in front, and its stately 
 alleys of trees ; or Xorfolk College, with its 
 convenient stone terrace overlooking the river, 
 and its spacious garden, is more beautiful than 
 the Hospital of the Holy Trinity beside St. 
 Paul's Church, Deptford, especially if one con- 
 siders the stormy, anxious, and harassed lives to 
 which it offers rest and repose. They have been 
 lives spent on the sea ; not in the pursuit of 
 honour won at the cannon's mouth and by board- 
 ing-pike in fighting tlie King's enemies, but in 
 the gathering of wealth for others to enjoy, 
 none of their o'ains comino; to themselves. The 
 merchant cnptain brings home his cargo safe 
 after perils many and hardships great ; but the 
 cargo is not for him. His owners, or those who 
 have chartered the ship, receive the freight ; it 
 is bought with their monev and sold for their 
 profit. For the captain and the crew there is
 
 6o THE WORLD WENT 
 
 their bare wage, and Avlien they can work no 
 longer, perhaps, if they are fortunate, a room 
 in a hospital or almshouse, with the weekly 
 dole of loaves and shillings. 
 
 The tract of land (it is not great) lying at 
 the back of Trinity Almshouses and the Stow- 
 age, contained by the last bend of the Creek 
 before it runs into the river, is rented by two 
 or three market-gardeners, and laid out by them 
 for the production of fruit and vegetables. 
 
 As these gardens lay retired and behind the 
 houses, no one ever came to them except the 
 gardeners themselves, who are quiet peaceful 
 folk. About the orchards here and the beds of 
 asparagus, peas, endive, skirrett, and the rest of 
 the vegetables grown for the London market, 
 lies ever an abiding sense of peace ; and this, 
 although one cannot but hear the continual 
 hammering of the dockyard, the firing of 
 salutes, and the yohoing and roaring of voices 
 which all day long come up from the ships upon 
 the river. I know not how we came to know 
 these gardens, or to find them out. I used to 
 wander in them with Castilla, when we were
 
 VERY WELL THE A 6i 
 
 little children, with Pliiladelpliy for nurse ; we 
 took Jack Easterbrook to show him the place 
 as soon as he came to us ; we thought, I believe 
 — as children love to think of anything — that 
 the gardens were our own ; though, of course, 
 we were only there on sufferance, and because 
 the gardeners knew we should neither destroy 
 nor steal. 
 
 Perhaps the chief reason why we sought 
 the place (because we liad gardens of our own 
 at home) was that, just beyond the last bend of 
 the Creek, there stood, on the very edge of the 
 steep bank — here twenty feet above low-water 
 mark — an old summer-house, built of wood. 
 It was octagonal in shape, having a pointed 
 roof of shingle, with a gilded weathercock upon 
 it. Three sides contained windows, all looking 
 upon the river ; another side consisted of a 
 door ; and a bench ran round the room, except 
 on the side of the door. It had once been 
 painted green, but the paint was now for the 
 most part fallen off; tlie shingle roof was leaky 
 and let in the rain ; the weathercock was rusty, 
 and stuck at due east ; the planks of the wall
 
 62 
 
 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 had started ; the door hardly hung upon its 
 hinges ; the glass of the windows was broken ; 
 
 and the whole structure was so crazy that I
 
 VERY WELL THEN 63 
 
 wonder it kept together, and did not either 
 tumble to pieces or slip down the steep bank 
 into the ooze of the Creek. In this summer- 
 house the great Czar Peter, when he was learn- 
 ing how to build ships in Deptford Yard, would, 
 it was said, sometimes come to sit with his 
 princes or heyducs, on a summer evening, to 
 drink brandy, to look at the ships, and to 
 meditate how best to convert liis enslaved Mus- 
 covites into the" likeness of free and honest 
 English sailors. We had small respect for the 
 memory of the Czar, but as for the old summer- 
 house it was all our own, because no one used 
 it except ourselves. For us it was a fortress 
 or castle, where we could play at being- 
 besieged, the ships in the river representing the 
 enemy's fleet. Jack would sally forth and per- 
 form prodigies of valour in bringing in provisions 
 for the garrison. Or it was our ship, in which 
 we sustained imaginary broadsides, and encoun- 
 tered shipwreck, and were cast away, Jack 
 being captain and Castilla the passenger, while 
 I was alternately bo's'n, first lieutenant, or cook, 
 according to the exigencies of the situation.
 
 64 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 But very soon Jack grew too big for these 
 games, and left us to ourselves. Then we fell 
 to more quiet sport. It was pleasant to watch 
 the ships go up and down the river, and fine 
 to see how the tide rushed up tlie Creek below 
 us, making whirlpools and eddies, and setting 
 upright the boats lying on their sides in the 
 mud, and trying to tear down the bank on 
 Avliich stood our rickety palace. We seemed 
 to know every craft, from the great East India 
 man to the Margate hoys or the Gravesend tilt- 
 boats, by face, so to speak, just as we knew the 
 faces of the naval officers who walked about 
 the town. And, thanks to Jack, we knew the 
 history of every ship of the King's Navy which 
 came to Deptford, and all the engagements and 
 actions in which she had ever taken part. 
 
 Across the Creek, and as far as tlie woods 
 and slopes of Greenwich, there are more 
 gardens, so that at spring-time it was a beauti- 
 ful thimr to sit in the summer-house and look 
 forth upon a great forest — it seemed nothing 
 less to our young eyes — covered with sweet 
 blossoms, and tender green leaves, which formed
 
 VERY WELL THEN 65 
 
 a strange and beautiful setting for tlie slii])s in 
 the river. I have painted this picture several 
 times, and always with a new pleasure, so sweet 
 and charmino; it is. When I bes^an first to 
 draw, it was in this place ; but it was when 
 Jack had ceased to play with us, because he 
 would only have laughed at me. I drew the 
 ships with trembling pencil, Castilla standing 
 over me the wliile. The dear girl could never 
 hold a pencil in her hand ; but she could tell 
 me if my drawings were like. Now, to draw 
 ships that are like real ships is the most impor- 
 tant thing of all. The time soon came when I 
 was never witliout a pencil in my hand and 
 paper to draw upon. I drew everything, just 
 as some boys will read everything. I drew the 
 ships and the boats, the Creek and the bridge, 
 the sailors, the skeletons of half-built ships in 
 the great sheds, and the girl who stood beside 
 me. 
 
 The picture of a lad who draws while a gir' 
 stands beside him — that might stand for the 
 picture of my life. It is a hfe which has been, 
 I thank God, free from anxiety, trouble, or 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 66 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 calamity. Once I painted such a picture (hav- 
 ing Castilla and myself in my mind). I drew a 
 youth of eighteen seated before a window, just 
 such a window as that of the old summer-house. 
 The window showed a merchantman, or part 
 of a merchantman, slowly making her way up 
 the river with wind and tide. Her fore-mast 
 and main-mast were gone, and in their place 
 two jury-masts rigged with a stay-sail ; her 
 bowsprit was gone, and her figure-head carried 
 away and lost; her bulwarks were broken 
 down. Yet she was safe, and her crew and 
 cargo w^ere safe, and the evening sun was upon 
 her, so that she showed glorious in spite of her 
 battered condition, and seemed like some poor 
 human soul which, after many troubles, gets at 
 last into the haven where she may lie at rest 
 for ever. The boy in my picture was gazing 
 upon his sketch as if comparing it with the 
 original. Beside him stood a girl of the same 
 age — be sure that she was a very beautiful girl, 
 gentle and composed, full of holy thoughts — 
 who looked down upon the lad. Thus it is 
 always. The man considers his work, and the
 
 VERY WELL THEN 67 
 
 woman considers tlie man, loving his work 
 because she loves the worker, yet not, like the 
 man, carried away by admiration for the work, 
 as knowing that all man's work is perishable and 
 transitory, and that the breath of fame is fleeting. 
 The picture of the girl is the true portrait of 
 Castilla as she appeared at the age of eighteen, 
 taken from the many drawings which I made of 
 her at that time, her hair a light brown, falHng 
 in waves artlessly upon her shoulders, and her 
 eyes a clear deep blue, to present which, upon 
 the canvas, would want a Eeynolds or a Eaphael. 
 Alas ! if Sir Joshua had painted this picture, 
 then, indeed, would you have caught in those 
 eyes the light of virtue and goodness, and you 
 would have seen about that brow a divine halo, 
 which I have always seen there, but have not 
 the art to represent. This it was which the 
 ancients meant when they figured their god- 
 desses wrapt about with a cloud. 
 
 And beside our quiet lives there ran the 
 tumultuous course of a hfe whose parallel I 
 knov/ not anywhere. 
 
 We did not, it may be supposed, stay 
 
 ^2
 
 68 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 always in tlie old summer-house. As we grew 
 older, we roamed about the country, Jack 
 sometimes condescending to lead the way 
 (though he would rather have spent his whole 
 time in the Yard among the ships). There is a 
 pleasant country lying south and east of Dept- 
 ford. You may, for instance, cross the bridge 
 over the Creek, pass the toll-gate, and so by 
 Limekiln Lane and London Street, a pleasant 
 road among the orchards, you will reach the 
 town of Greenwicl], with its great hospital; 
 and, if you please to leave this unvisited, you 
 may turn to the right, and so up the hill by 
 Brazenface Avenue, and into the Wilderness. 
 Beyond the Wilderness is Blackheath, a wild 
 and desolate spot, Avith never a house upon it, 
 covered with furze-bushes. Gij^sies camp here, 
 and it is said that footpads and highwaymen 
 lurk among the caves ; but we never met any. 
 One can come home, by way of Watersplash, 
 aloncj the stream, which is here no lono^er 
 Deptford Creek, but the Eavensbourne— a 
 pretty brook of pure Avater with deep holes 
 luider trees, and babbhnc: shallows, running
 
 VERY WELL THEN 69 
 
 between high banks, where the primroses, in 
 March and April, he in thousands. The holes 
 are full of jack, which we sometimes caught 
 with float and hook ; and here in spring we 
 went bird-nesting, and in summer we picked 
 the wild roses, and in autunni gathered nuts, 
 sloes, and blackberries. Farther afield, there 
 is Woolwich Common ; or Eltham, with the 
 ruins of King Jolni's Palace, the walls of 
 which still stand, and tlie moat may still be 
 seen, now dry ; and the King's banqueting-hall, 
 which is used for a barn, stands stately with its 
 Gothic windows. And if one follows up the 
 windings of the Eavensbourne, there are 
 presently the swelling uplands ot Penge, with 
 their hanging woods ; and Norwood, West- 
 wood Common, Sydenham Wells, and many 
 other rural places, pleasant for those who love 
 the haunts of sinc^ino; birds and wild flowers 
 and the babble of brooks, and remoteness from 
 the walks of men. 
 
 But for such a boy as Jack, what are all 
 the charms of Nature compared with the ships, 
 and the docks, and the river ? You can get
 
 70 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 orchards everywhere, but not a seaport and a 
 dockyard. You can find rustics, and you may 
 meditate in woods all over the country, but you 
 cannot talk everywhere, as you can at Deptford 
 and Greenwich, with sailors, old and young, of 
 the merchant service and the King's Navy. 
 The sailors are rough of speech and rude of 
 manners ; they live in mean houses ; but in 
 every house there is something strange and 
 wonderful brought from foreign parts. The 
 very landsmen and those who work at me- 
 chanical trades are half sailors, though they do 
 not wear the sailors' petticoats ; for tliey are 
 shipwrights, boat-builders, fitters of state-cabins, 
 carvers who decorate figure-heads and ships' 
 sterns, or are employed in the Victualling Yard 
 or in the carpenters' shop, or they are ships'- 
 painters, rope-makers, or are employed to 
 scrape clean and caulk ships' bottoms ; so that 
 the whole town makes its living by the sea. 
 No one speaks or thinks of anything but the 
 sea and the things which are concerned with 
 the sea. What, for instance, did the people of 
 Deptford know about the conduct of the Allies
 
 VERY WELL THEN 71 
 
 and the King's land forces during the late war ? 
 Yet they knew of every naval action that was 
 fought, and the name of every ship engaged ; 
 and there were men of Deptford, both pressed 
 and volunteers, with every fleet and squadron. 
 The streets were always full of sailors ; the 
 officers of the ships in commission and fitting- 
 out were always passing in and out of the 
 Dockyard gates ; and in sunny weather the 
 benches by the stairs, at the Upper and LoAver 
 Water Gates, were crowded with the old 
 fellows w^atching the craft go up and down, 
 and listening to the ribald jests of the water- 
 men, and ready to talk all day long with a 
 certain lad of bright eyes and brave face, who 
 was never tired of listening to them. 
 
 What with the old men of Trinity and the 
 pensioners of Greenwich, the boy heard stories 
 enough of the sea and the shij)s and those who 
 sail therein. Some of the men were so old 
 that they could remember Admiral Benbaw 
 and his cowardly captains. There was not 
 a sinHe action fought in the first half of this 
 century but was represented among the Green-
 
 72 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 wich pensioners, some of whom were in it, and 
 had lost an arm, a leg, an eye, or anything else 
 that can be shot away and leave the trunk still 
 living. I can still see Jack standing before 
 some old veteran, wdth a hook for a hand, his 
 eye kindling, his cheek aflame, his fists clenched, 
 his lips parted, because in imagination he saw 
 the deck knee-deep in blood, the boarders 
 leaping upon the enemy like tigers upon their 
 prey, the ship capsized or sinking, the French 
 flag struck, and because he heard the roaring 
 of the great guns, the rattle of the muskets, the 
 clash of cutlasses, and the groans of the 
 wounded. 
 
 There are many other things at sea besides 
 fighting, chasing, and boarding. Jack learned 
 the daily life, for example, from these old 
 fellows, with the duties and the discipline. He 
 heard about foreign ports and strange lands : 
 certainly, one would never be tired of visiting 
 wild and unknown countries, where there may 
 remain yet to be discovered strange races of 
 men, with fruits and flowers as yet unseen and 
 undreamed. But there are also, alas ! storms
 
 VERY WELL THEN js 
 
 and liiirricanes, wrecks in mid-ocean, with, as 
 the ahusmen could tell us, boats laden to the 
 gunwale with sailors who have escaped the 
 sinking ship only to be tossed helpless on the 
 sea with never a drop of water to drink or a 
 mouthful of biscuit to eat. Or there are those 
 who are cast away upon some desolate rock or 
 unknown island, where they live on sea-birds, 
 fish, mussels, and the like, till they die or are 
 taken off. And some are thrown upon cold 
 and inhospitable coasts, such as that of 
 Labrador, where the cruel cold causes their 
 hands and feet, their noses and ears, to fall off 
 — there was one poor wretch in the hospital 
 thus mutilated — and where the I^orth American 
 Indians (the most savage and the most ruthless 
 race in the world) take tliem prisoners, and 
 torture them before slow fires. Or there are 
 treacherous pirates, who steal aboard, murder 
 the crew, and pillage the ship. Or there are 
 Moors, who make slaves of honest English 
 sailors, and constrain them to row in their 
 galleys bare-backed, with the master or bo's'n 
 walking above them on a kind of bridge, armed
 
 74 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 with a whip to scourge the bare backs of those 
 who seem to shirk their work. Or there are 
 French prisons, where tlie captives are starved 
 on thin soup and bread for all their diet. Or 
 there is the accursed Inquisition, into whose 
 clutches many sailors have been known to fall, 
 and, for their endurance in the Protestant faith, 
 have suffered the torture of the rack, and even 
 martyrdom at the stake. And, again, there 
 are such perils as falhng overboard, fire at sea, 
 scurvy, yello^v jack, and mutiny. And there 
 is the evil — intolerable it would be to landsmen 
 — of the Captain's tyranny, or, which often 
 happens, the malice, envy, or jealousy of a First 
 Lieutenant, witli endless floggings and rope's- 
 ending all day long. And, again, there is the 
 danger that, after showing the greatest zeal, 
 bravery and activity in service, a man may be 
 passed over by the favouritism which prevails 
 in high quarters and the want of friends to 
 help him. Is it not a dreadful and a shameful 
 thincj that there should be men oTown old as 
 lieutenants — nay, even as midshipmen — who 
 have fought in a hundred battles and spent
 
 VERY WELL THEN 75 
 
 their lives upon salt water, only to feel a new 
 mortification every voyage in serving under 
 men young enough to be their own sons ? 
 
 As for myself, the talk of these old men 
 filled me with a kind of contempt for the 
 seaman's lot. One cannot choose but admire 
 the intrepidity, worthy of a stoical philosopher, 
 with which these men face, every day, possible 
 death ; yea, and exhibit the most wonderful 
 constancy under pain, and the strangest 
 insensibility to danger. This, I say, commands 
 our admiration. Yet the lot of the meanest 
 landsman seems to me easier than that of a 
 sailor, and I would rather be a hedger and a 
 ditcher upon a farm than even a commissioned 
 officer aboard the finest ship that ever floated. 
 But we landsmen know not the strength of that 
 longing for the sea which possesses some lads, 
 and drags them as by chains or ropes to the 
 nearest port (thus was Jack drawn irresistibly 
 by the hand of fate) and so aboard' — and once 
 on the ship's books there is no other way 
 possible — and the lad becomes for life a sailor, 
 to spend Lis days rolling about on a wet and
 
 76 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 slippery deck, yet happier than if he were 
 ashore — hke unto those rovers of old, the 
 north-country men, who could sta}^ long in no 
 place, but roved from port to port, landing 
 here and there, and devouring the substance of 
 the people, even to the southern coasts of Italy 
 and the islands of Greece.
 
 VERY WELL THEX jj 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 HOW JACK LEARNED OF THE PEXMAX. 
 
 EEE were materials enono-li to fire tlie 
 imagination and awaken the ardour 
 of a boy about to become a sailor. 
 But these were not alL For at 
 home — the Admiral's house liaving become this 
 orphan's home — there was talk all day long of 
 fiirhtinc^ and foreig;n seas and thinss nautical. 
 Jack's patron or guardian had been engaged in 
 many of the actions fought during the eleven 
 years' war between the years 1702 and 1713. 
 He was on board the 'Eesolution,' which carried 
 Lord Peterborough when she was intercepted 
 by a French squadron, and was forced to run 
 ashore in order to save her from flilling into the 
 hands of the cnemv. He was in the West
 
 78 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 Indies, and was the British Captain who planted 
 our flag on Tobago. He was on Sir George 
 Byng's ship, the ' Eoyal Anne,' in Sir Cloudesley 
 Shovel's fleet, when that hero perished off the 
 Scilly Isles ; he was a Lieutenant on board the 
 ' Assurance ' in that gallant action with the French 
 Commander Du Guai Trouin, of the ' Achille.' 
 In this battle he lost his arm ; his leg he lost 
 in tlie capture of a Moorish corsair during the 
 reduction of Morocco, in the year 1734. After 
 this he retired, receiving the rank of Eear- 
 Admiral, and settled at Deptford, then about 
 forty-two years of age. He presently discovered 
 that it is not good for man to live alone, and 
 therefore took a wife, who in due time bore 
 him a child, Castilla. His daughter, who, if 
 anybody, ought to know, says that her father 
 possessed in an eminent degree, and daily in his 
 lifetime exhibited most, if not all of, the virtues 
 which should adorn the Christian who is also 
 an officer of high rank in His Majesty's Navy. 
 The Christian virtues, it is sure, vary according 
 to a man's station in life. We do not expect 
 certain things from Princes wliich are indis-
 
 VERY WELL TLIEN 79 
 
 ■pensable to those of lowly and humble lot ; 
 from an Adnhral of the Fleet we do not look 
 for meekness, patience, humility or resignation ; 
 a choleric disposition is allowed to him ; the 
 habit of applying sacred names to things pro- 
 fane is excused in him ; and if he who has com- 
 manded a man-of-war is not to have his own 
 way in everything, who should ? As for obedi- 
 ence to the Commandments, it may be shown 
 that the Admiral followed them all. Thus, for 
 honouring his parents, he did more — he was 
 proud of them, because they came of a good 
 stock — and honoured himself on their account ; 
 he killed nobody save in battle, though he 
 drubbed and belaboured his servants every day ; 
 he robbed nobody, except in an honourable way 
 — as in taking a prize ; he was envious of no- 
 thing but the Frenchman's ships ; he freely for- 
 gave everybody, even those who transgressed 
 his orders on board ship and sinned against his 
 patience, as soon as he had soundly flogged 
 them. To bear malice when a man had paid 
 for his fault with three dozen was not in the 
 Admiral's nature. And that he was of a truly
 
 8o THE WORLD WENT 
 
 good heart and a benevolent disposition was 
 clearly sliown by his treatment of Jack Easter- 
 brook. 
 
 There were also many others, formerly of 
 the naval service, who were contented to spend 
 the evening of their days in this town of Dept- 
 ford, which is not on the sea, yet lives by tlie 
 sea. Among them was that famous traveller, 
 George Shelvocke the younger, who accom- 
 panied his father in the circumnavigation of the 
 globe in the year 1720, and was never tired of 
 relating tlie perils, sufferings, and adventures of 
 that voyage, and the wonders of the South Seas : 
 an account of the voyage hath been published 
 for the curious. There were also Captain 
 Mayne, who commanded the ' Worcester ' in Ad- 
 miral Vernon's expedition ; Captain Petherick, 
 Eesident Commissioner of the Yard, who had 
 a. goodly collection of books of voyages, which 
 he suffered Jack to borrow and to read ; 
 Mr. Peter Mostyn, formerly Cocket-writerinllis 
 Majesty's Custom House, and an ingenious, 
 well-informed gentleman ; Lieutenant Hep- 
 worth, late of General Powlett's Marines; and
 
 VERY WELL THEN 8r 
 
 Mr. Unclerhill, retired purser of the King's 
 Navy. 
 
 To be a purser is to hold a thankless office : 
 it is he who is blamed for every barrel of 
 damaged pork and for every box of weevily 
 biscuit ; he can please none ; wherefore it is 
 best for him not to try. As for the pleasures 
 of a purser's life, I know not what they are. 
 He must face the dangers of the deep with the 
 rest ; he must endure tempest and shipwreck ; 
 cannon-ball and grape-shot spare the purser no 
 more than the first lieutenant, if he be on 
 deck ; and when the ship is cast away tlie 
 purser drowns with the captain. Yet for all 
 these perils he gets neither promotion nor 
 iionour. Would any man boast of having been 
 purser, and therefore kept below in the cock- 
 pit with the surgeons and the wounded men 
 during the most gallant action ever fought? 
 Yet there is one consolation for the purser. 
 He can, and does continuallj^, by his accounts, 
 his purchases, his bribes, and percentages, suck 
 so much profit out of every voyage that he is 
 presently able to leave the service and pur- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 chase a cottage, where, with a patch of garden 
 to cultivate, perhaps a wife and children to 
 cheer him, a few companions, a pipe of tobacco, 
 and a glass of punch, he may forget the dark- 
 ness of the orlop deck, the stink of his store- 
 rooms, the great tallow-candle in the glass 
 lantern, by the light of which he had to keep 
 his accounts and inspect his stores ; the roll- 
 iug of the ship, the thunder of the cannon in a 
 battle, the cries of the wounded, the crash and 
 wreck of the great ship on a rock, or the alarm 
 of fire ; yea, and even the daily purgatory 
 caused by the tricks of the midshipmen and 
 the gibes of the gun-room. 
 
 These gentlemen met nearly every night at 
 the ' Sir John FalstafF,' by the Upper Water 
 Gate, for punch and conversation ; they also 
 came often to the Admiral's house, and were, 
 one and all, kind to the lad who was thus 
 'brought amoDg them, and freely talked with 
 him ; so that, being of an inquiring mind, and 
 thus running about in the Dockyard, and talk- 
 ins^ with old officers, common sailors and 
 pensioners, and with the help of the apothecary,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 83 
 
 who from the first loved tlie bo}^ I think there 
 was no part of the world, as there was no 
 action of recent times, with which Jack was 
 not as well acquainted as if he had been there. 
 At the beginning he was placed under my 
 father, who made him begin the study of the 
 Latin language, which he could not stomach, 
 and would never willingly look into any books, 
 except those which are concerned with the sea, 
 such as Captain Park's ' Defensive Wars by Sea,' 
 a very instructive work ; 'The Practical Sea- 
 Gunner's Companion,' ' Gordon's Geography,' 
 and even the ' Eiggiug Tables,' over which he 
 would pore contentedly for hours. He was 
 also fond of reading voyages, and especially 
 those volumes of Harris's and Purchas's collec- 
 tions — the first of the former, and the first and 
 fourth of the latter — which are concerned with 
 the South Seas, towards which his imagination 
 was greatly drawn by his conversation with 
 Mr. Brinjes and Mr. Shelvocke. That he was 
 always fighting . other boys, especially the 
 rough river-side lads, and was seldom without 
 some external sign of combat, such as a black 
 
 G 2
 
 84 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 eye, cut lip, and swollen nose, certainly did not 
 lessen liim in his jmtron's regard, because, 
 when all is told, the most valuable quality in a 
 sailor is the love of fighting. 
 
 So strong and courageous was he, so ready 
 to fight, and so uncommonly backward in 
 owning himself beaten, that none of his age 
 and stature dared to contend with him — save 
 at stone-throwing and at a distance — except 
 one, of whom mention is here made ; not 
 because a boy's fights are matters of serious 
 history, but because the fighting between these 
 two, thus begun, was continued after both 
 became men, and with consequences most 
 important. This boy was the son of a boat- 
 builder in the toAvn ; his name was Aaron 
 Fletcher. In strength, age, and stature nearly 
 the same as Jack ; in bravery and spirit, equal 
 to him. Yet, whenever they fought — which 
 was often — Aaron was defeated, because he 
 lacked the dexterity and quickness of eye 
 which beat down mere strength, and render 
 courage useless. Yet Aaron would not own to 
 inferiority ; and, whenever the boys met, they
 
 VERY WELL THEN 85 
 
 began to snarl at each other like a pair of 
 terriers, and the first stone was thrown, the 
 first taunt uttered, the iirst blow delivered, and 
 then, at it again, like French and English. 
 
 Further, that he neglected his Latin, went 
 to sleep in church, put powder in the negroes' 
 tobacco, tied ropes across the road to throw 
 down belated wayfarers, and played a thousand 
 pranks daily may be admitted. These things 
 only cost him a flogguig when he was found 
 out, and endeared him more and more to his 
 guarchan. 
 
 When Jack was eleven years of age, the 
 Admiral, regardless of my father's protestations 
 of the perils encountered by those who are 
 ignorant of the classics, placed him wholly in 
 the charge of Mr. Westmoreland, who, although 
 only a penman by trade, had acquired so great 
 a proficiency in arithmetic, the rudiments of 
 navigation, the taking of observations, and the 
 working of logarithms, that he had no equal in 
 the town, and was perfectly able to instruct a 
 young gentleman before he went on board. In 
 all these branches the boy showed and dis-
 
 86 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 played an uncommon zeal and quickness. But, 
 I verily believe, if lie had thougiit tliat tlie 
 study of Hebrew or Chaldean would have 
 helped him forward in his profession, he would 
 have entreated my father to teach him. 
 
 Mr. Westmoreland, his master, was a mild 
 and gentle creature, who loved nothing but the 
 study of mathematics and the art of fine 
 writing, so that, though lie wrote letters for 
 any who came to him, and copied deeds for 
 the attorney, and wrote out his sermon large 
 and fair for the Vicar of St. Paul's, he always 
 turned from these labours with joy to his books 
 and his calculations. He was, in appearance, 
 sliort and bent, with rounded shoulders, and 
 with a hump (which made the boys call him 
 My Lord). His voice was high and squeaky ; 
 he wore round horn spectacles ; when these 
 were off you perceived that his eyes were soft 
 and aflectionate ; his forehead was hidi and 
 square, and he wore a plain scratch wig. He 
 was a patient teacher, and bore an excellent 
 character for uprightness and piety, though he 
 was despised by the rougher sort because,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 87 
 
 althougli he was now no more than forty, or 
 thereabouts, he could not light, or even defend 
 himself. 
 
 He lived next door to the apotliecary, in 
 tliat row of houses on the north side of the 
 Trinity Almshouses wliere reside the better 
 sort of tradesmen, such as the sexton of St. 
 Nicolas ; Mr. Skipworth, the principal barber 
 and wigmaker, who shaved all the gentry in 
 the place, and kept four assistants continuahy 
 employed in dressing and flouring their wigs 
 for tliem ; the master measurer's assistant, and 
 the master shipwright's assistant. But these 
 honest folk did not call Mr. Brinjes their equal. 
 He, for his part, took his pipe nightly at the 
 ' Sir John FalstafF' with the gentlemen, while 
 they used the ' Plume of Feathers.' 
 
 Under Mr. Westmoreland's instruction. 
 Jack learned all that the ingenious penman had 
 to teach him, except his fine handwriting and 
 the beautiful flourishes with which a dexterous 
 pen can adorn a page ; and by the time he was 
 twelve years of age he understood the use of 
 the compass, the sextant, tlie ship's charts, all
 
 88 THE WOlU.n WENT 
 
 tlio vnrioiis parts of ;i sliip jind licr riii;i;in<^, 
 tind ;i givat (k'ul of ^^co^rai))!)' and naval 
 liistory. 
 
 As lor Ihu parts of a sliij) hu luariicd IIkmu 
 chiclly ill the Yard, wlicru lie would wander 
 ninoiig the sheds mid wateh the l)iiildiii<^ of the 
 shij)s, Ihe re[)air of those in the dry doek, and 
 the littin^ out of those in the wet (h)ek, the 
 hendini;" of the j^'reat i)eaiu8 by steam, which 
 is made to phiy iij)on them until they heeonie 
 soft, the Tuakini;- of rope, the euttin<4" and 
 shaping oF pulle\s and bloeks, the forging of 
 anchors, and every part of the business be- 
 longing to the construction of shi[)s. Then, 
 again, he learned the names and purposes of 
 all the ro[)es, running and standing gear, sails, 
 lings, signals, sailing rules, and rules for action, 
 and his natural curiosity made him in([uire 
 into, and acquaint himself with, llu' way in 
 which everything is made, and may be repaired 
 or replaced. lie learned all these things from 
 natural eagerness and interest in every tiling 
 concerning a ship ; but in the end this know- 
 ledge stood him in good stead, because there is
 
 VERY WELL THEN 89 
 
 no detail in tlic conduct and construction of a 
 ship wliicli ouiilit to be below the notice of the 
 officers, a foct which many commanders forget, 
 leavini^ the navigation of the ship to tlie 
 master, her seaworthiness to the carpenter, and 
 the health of the crew to tlie purser. Surely 
 if, as hath been advanced by some, every boy 
 is born with a clear vocation for some trade or 
 profession, just as Taul, though an Apostle, was 
 also a tent-maker, and Luke, at first a physi- 
 cian, and Peter a fisherman (afterwards of 
 men) ; then, most certainly. Jack, by right 
 divine and special calling of Providence, was 
 a sailor. 
 
 While he sat every morning at Avork with 
 his mild instructor, Mr. Westmoreland, there 
 was always present a little girl, three years 
 younger than himself, a child with l)lack hair, 
 rosy cheeks, and big black eyes. When it was 
 winter weather this child sat in a little chair 
 beside the fire ; when it was warm and sunny, 
 she sat in the open doorway. She was a grave 
 child, who seldom played with other children ; 
 slie had no dolls or toys ; she took great pleasure
 
 90 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 in liouseliold tilings, and from a very early age 
 was her father's housekeeper ; when she grew 
 older she became his ruler as well, ordering 
 things as seemed her best. And though her 
 father was so fond of books and learning, this 
 girl would never so much as learn to read. 
 One does not, to be sure, expect girls in her 
 station to acquire the arts of reading and 
 writing, if only because they have no books, 
 and never have occasion to write. These arts 
 would be as useless to them as the Icnowledge 
 of riding; or dancino- the minuet. But it was 
 stranii^e that Bess should be so different in dis- 
 position as well as in appearance to her father ; 
 and stranger still, that so rickety a man should 
 be the father of so strong and stout a girl. As 
 for her mother, no one knew whither she had 
 gone, or what had become of her ; it was said 
 by those who remembered her that she was as 
 comely as her daughter, but a termagant and a 
 shrew in temper, who led her mild husband a 
 terrible life, even sometimes taking the broom- 
 stick to him, and beating him over the head 
 with it, poor man ! — or laying about her with
 
 VERY WELL THEN 91 
 
 tlie frying-pan, as ungoverned women use 
 towards those husbands Avho, like Mr. West- 
 moreland, are afraid, or too weak of arm, to 
 keep tlieni in submission b}^ the same methods. 
 She left her husband (he bore the loss Avith 
 Christian submission) a year or two after 
 marriage, and was reported to have been 
 afterwards seen at Eanelagh, among the ladies' 
 and gentlemen there, dressed in a hoop, all in 
 silk and satin, patches and paint, and fan in 
 hand — very fine, and carrying a domino, just 
 for all the world as if a penman's wife could 
 become a gentlewoman. 
 
 From the very first, a singular friendship 
 existed between Jack and this oirl. He brought 
 her apples, comfits, and cakes, Avhich Phila- 
 delphy, Castilla's black nurse, made for hhn ; 
 he played with her, and made her laugh ; then 
 he teased her, and made her cry ; then he 
 coaxed her into good temper again. She was 
 a child wdio fell into the most violent storms of 
 passion, which none but Jack could subdue ; 
 he took a pleasure both in exciting her wrath 
 and appeasing it. On the other hand, he never
 
 92 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 tried to enrage or to tease Castilla — perhaps 
 because she was possessed of sucli extraordinary 
 calmness and sweetness that it was impossible 
 to provoke her, and it was waste of time, 
 even for a boy Avho loves teasing, to practise 
 upon one who regards it not. Bess, for her 
 part, was one of those who would rather be 
 teased into answer than neglected. It was 
 pretty to see how she would sit when he was 
 at his lessons with her father, watching him 
 silently, and how she would follow him, when 
 he suffered her, submissive and obedient ; 
 though there was nobody else in the world, 
 not even her father, to whom this wilful girl 
 would submit. There are some men to whom 
 women willingly and joyfully submit them- 
 selves, and become their slaves with a kind of 
 pride ; but there are others to whom no 
 woman will submit. Of the latter kind w\as 
 Mr. Westmoreland, Bess's father, who w^as born 
 to be ruled by his wife. Of the former, Jack 
 w\as one ; when he was only a boy, the sailors' 
 wdves and daughters in the street would call 
 after him for a pretty lad, and bid him come
 
 VERY WELL THEN 93 
 
 and be kissed ; and when he was a man grown, 
 the maids would look at him as he passed 
 along the street, and would follow him witli 
 longing eyes. But if a woman becomes the 
 slave of a man, she will have him to be lier 
 slave in return ; for where there is great love 
 there is also great jealousy ; and also where 
 there is great love there is also the possibility 
 of great wrath and great revenge — as you Avill 
 presently discover. 
 
 In one word, long before he Vv^ent on board 
 as a volunteer, young Jack Easterbrook was 
 eager to feel the deck rolhng under his feet, 
 and to hear the first shot of his first action ; he 
 was also well advanced in all the knowledge of 
 ropes and rigging that the gunner has to teach 
 the youngsters aboard. It is further to be noted 
 that at this early age, and before he went to 
 sea, the boy had already acquired the settled 
 conviction that all things which tlie round 
 world contains, and the kindly earth produces, 
 belong especially to the sailor by right divine, 
 and were intended by Providence for liis solace 
 when ashore ; that to provide for him, and for
 
 94 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 his comfort, landsmen toil perpetually ; that 
 while he is fio'htinc^ our battles for us, we are 
 gratefully devising, contriving, making, com- 
 j)0unding, and inventing all kinds of things for 
 his enjoyment when he comes back to us ; such, 
 for instance, as strong wine and old rum, music 
 and fiddles, songs and dances, tobacco and snug 
 taverns ; he is to have the best of all ; for him 
 the most beautiful women reserve their favours, 
 and desire to win his affections before those of 
 any landsman whatever. Young and old, man, 
 woman, boy, and girl, we all loved the boy. 
 There was not in Deptford or in Greenwich a 
 more gallant lad, one more brave and resolute, 
 nor one more handsome. For all his fortune 
 he had but his resolution and his sword. And 
 he went forth to conquer the world with so 
 brave a heart and a carriage so sprightly that 
 the men laughed only for the pleasure of looking 
 upon him, and the women cried. I am sure 
 that the true soldier of fortune hath always made 
 the women cry. 
 
 At the age of eleven, also, the Admiral, by 
 permission of the Captain, was enabled to place
 
 VERY WELL THEN 95 
 
 tlie name of the boy on the books of the ' Lenox ' 
 as a vokniteer, although he did not send him 
 3'et to sea, considerately holding that this age is 
 too tender for the rough nsage of boys aboard 
 ship, though many boys are sent away so early. 
 But, by entering him on the ship's company he 
 secured that his rating as midshipman should 
 begin at thirteen and his commission as lieu- 
 tenant be obtained at nineteen. So that, 
 althouo-h the boy was still workinir with Mr. 
 Westmoreland, he was supposed to be cruising 
 with Captain Holmes aboard the ' Lenox.'
 
 96 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 now JACK FIRST AVEXT TO SEA. 
 
 N" tlie autumn of tlie year 1747 — the 
 last but one of the war then ragmg 
 — the Admiral judged that the time 
 was now arrived when the boy 
 should join his ship. ' For,' he said, ' the lad is 
 already nearly thirteen, and tall for his age ; and 
 he knows more than most youngsters have 
 learned after twelve months at sea. He grows 
 masterful, too, and will be all the better for the 
 rope's-end which the gunner hath in store for 
 him, and for the mast-head, where he will spend 
 many pleasant hours. And as for the Captain 
 — Dick Holmes is not one who will skulk, or 
 suffer his crew to skulk. What better can 
 happen for a boy than to sail with a fighting
 
 VERY WELL THEN 97 
 
 ' 'Tis a brave lad, Admiral,' said my father 
 — 'twas at the club or nightly assemblage at the 
 ' Sir Joliii Falstaff.' ' By such stuff as this let us 
 pray that England's fleets will always be manned. 
 They have never heard of Selden's "Mare 
 clausum," and know not his argument, whicli is, 
 to my mind, conclusive. jSTevertheless, they go 
 forth to support those arguments by a kind of 
 blind instinct, which I take to be in itself 
 a clear proof of his sound reasoning.' 
 
 ' I have never met any Mary Clausum,' said 
 the Admiral, ' to my knowledge. Polly Collins, 
 there Avas in my time, at Point — a black-eyed 
 jade. But Jack is, as yet, full young to think 
 of any Polly of them all.' 
 
 ' Xay, 'tis the title of a learned work. I 
 meant only that if England is to be Queen of 
 the Seas, which France and Spain still dispute 
 with us, and are likely to dispute for a long 
 while, it is well tliat we have such boys, and 
 plenty of them. There can never be too many 
 Britons born in the w^orld.' 
 
 ' True, Doctor ; especially if we go on 
 expending them in this lashion.' 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ' We send forth this tender child, Sir,' con- 
 tinued the Yicar of St. Paul's, ' to a hard and 
 rough life. He may be wrecked ; he may be 
 killed in action ; he may lose his limbs ; there 
 are a thousand perils in his way. Yet we do 
 not pity him, because, if his life must needs be 
 short, it will be honourable. And he is in the 
 hands of Providence.' 
 
 ' That is true, Doctor. Though as to danger, 
 hang me if I think he is worse off aboard ship 
 than he would be ashore, what with sharks and 
 lawyers, rogues and murderers, robbers and 
 cheats, to say nothing of the women. And on 
 board ship they cannot get at a man. And 
 as for hardships — why, every youngster looks 
 forward to being an Admiral at least, and to 
 lead his squadron into a victorious engagement 
 — and sometimes he does it, too.' 
 
 ' As for me, Admiral,' said Mr. Brinjes, ' I 
 shall bid good-bye to the lad with a vast deal 
 of pleasure. He will go never a day too soon. 
 Keep a lad too long and he gets stale. As for 
 dangers, I think you are right. But there are 
 dangers afloat which the landsman does not
 
 VERY WELL THEN 
 
 99 
 
 know, and more dangers than the enemy's shot 
 or a gale of wind. A boy may have a bully 
 for first lieutenant, or a tyrant for captain.' 
 Here his only eye flashed fire, from which one 
 may conjecture that he had himself experienced 
 this accident, and still cherished the memory ; 
 ' or a skinflint and a cheese-scraper for a 
 purser.' 
 
 'Nay, nay,' said Mr. Underhill, ' the purser 
 is for ever in fault.' 
 
 'Or a lickspittle for a Master; there are 
 rogues and scoundrels afloat as well as ashore. 
 Mark you, if it is bad for the midshipmen, 'tis 
 worse for the crew ; in such ships are floggings 
 daily, and mutinous words whispered 'tween 
 deck, with rope's- ending and continual flogging, 
 no matter how smart a man may be ; and yet 
 they wonder why men rise sometimes and mur- 
 der their offlcers and carry off the ship under 
 the black flag. Pirates.^ Why, even if they 
 knew that the gibbet was already built whereon 
 they were to hang in chains till they dropped 
 to pieces, do you think they would not have 
 their revenge, and then a free and a merry life, 
 
 H 2
 
 loo THE WORLD WENT 
 
 if only for a short year or two before they die ? ' 
 and with that Mr. Brinjes looked about him so 
 fiercely that for a while no one spoke. 
 
 ' These words are better said asliore than 
 afloat,' said the Admiral presently. ' I've tied 
 up a man and given him six dozen — ay, or 
 hanged him for mutiny, for less than that, Mr. 
 Brinjes.' 
 
 ' Very like, very like,' returned Mr. Brinjes, 
 recovering his good temper. ' I will remember 
 it. Admiral, if ever I ship with you. As for the 
 boy now — this boy of ours — he will do well, 
 and will turn out a credit to us all. Admiral. 
 I have never known a more resolute lad or one 
 better fitted for the work before liim. I have 
 taught him, for my own part, how the land lays 
 as regards the wickedness of men, both ashore 
 and afloat. He is prepared for a good deal ; 
 and so far, I think, never was a lad sent abroad 
 better prepared. He knows as much. Doctor, not 
 to speak boastfully, as a Eoman Catholic con- 
 fessor. Now, when a boy is fully acquainted with 
 devilry, he need fear no devils, male or female.'
 
 VERY WELL THEN loi 
 
 Tlie ship on whose books he was borne — 
 namely, the ' Lenox,' Captain Eichard Hohnes — 
 was now refitting at Sheerness, being under 
 orders to join the \yest Indian squadron of 
 seven ships under Eear-Admiral Knowles, at 
 Port Eoyal, Jamaica. A beautiful ship she was, 
 nearly new, a third-rate, of seventy guns, though 
 at this time slie carried no more than fifty-six, 
 and a complement of six hundred men. You 
 shall hear, presently, witli what singular good 
 fortune the boy began his course. This good 
 fortune continued with him unbroken until the 
 event which I have to relate, so that, in think- 
 ing of Jack, I am reminded of that Lydian 
 King who was told by the philosopher to count 
 no man happy until the end. Always, in every 
 ship, he gained the good opinion of the supe- 
 rior officers ; always tlie actions in which he 
 fought were victorious ; promotion and distinc- 
 tion, prize-money, and escape from shot and 
 cutlass wound — what more could a sailor 
 desire ? To be sure, there was one voyage 
 which proved disastrous. Even here he escaped
 
 102 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 drowning when so many perished. Besides, 
 this was in time of peace. 
 
 It is generally believed that boys are shipped 
 ofF to sea because they are too loutish and 
 stupid for the arts by which landsmen rise. 
 But we do not hear that such lads rise to distinc- 
 tion by reason of loutishness. Tliis is not the 
 way widi those who live in a dockyard town. 
 There the flower of the youth flock to the 
 service, and there is no lack of volunteers, even 
 for ordinary seamen, in time of war. There 
 are skulkers, it is true ; but they are more com- 
 mon at Wapping than at Deptford. As for 
 officers, happy that boy who wears the King's 
 uniform ; envied is he among liis companions. 
 You may judge he vv^ants but little admonition 
 to encoura£!;e him in zeal. 
 
 ' Boy,' said the Admiral, catechising the lad 
 before he joined his ship, ' what is thy hrst 
 duty?' 
 
 ' Eespect for superiors, Sir,' said Jack. 
 
 ' Eight ; and the next ? No argument, on 
 board. And when fighting begins don't gape 
 about the ship to duck for any cannon-shot
 
 VERY WELL THEN 103 
 
 that flies over head ; but stand steady at 
 quarters, eyes open, and hands ready. What? 
 Many a chance comes of showing your mettle 
 when least expected, as Avhen a boarding 
 attack is repelled, or the word is given to leap 
 on board and at 'em. Be ever ready, yet not 
 too forward, lest it seem a reflection upon thy 
 betters. Wait till thy time comes ; when it 
 does come — but, by the Lord, Jack, I have no 
 fear of thee ! ' 
 
 Other directions the Admiral gave the boy, 
 which, may be here omitted, the more parti- 
 cularly as they referred to the conduct which 
 a boy should observe in port and on shore ; 
 and the Admiral's warnings were plain and 
 clear, and such as may be read in the Book 
 of Proverbs. My father also admonished the 
 boy, particularly on the wickedness of profane 
 swearing. Of this he was likely to hear only 
 too much, and, indeed, his captain was reported 
 to be one who enforced his orders with a great 
 deal of hard swearing. My father also ad- 
 dressed a few words to this young sailor on the 
 evils of immoderate drinking, too common on
 
 104 THE- WORLD WENT 
 
 land, tlioiigli restricted by wholesome discipline 
 at sea. And he instructed the boy how he 
 should govern himself, keep his temper in con- 
 trol, guard his tongue, fight his shipmates no 
 more than was necessary for self-respect and 
 honour ; and how, when the time should come 
 when he himself was to be put in authority, he 
 should be merciful in punishment, and err on 
 the side of leniency, remembering that though 
 a man's back must sulTer for his sins, he should 
 not be torn to pieces and cruelly lacerated — 
 as is the practice on board some ships — save 
 for the most heinous offences against order, 
 morality, and discipline. ' The ancient Eomans,' 
 added my father, ' could, if they chose, flog a 
 slave to death. Yet it was counted infamous 
 to use this power. The captain of a King's 
 ship has this power also, seeing that he may, 
 if he so please, order a man as m.any as five 
 hundred lashes — a truly dreadful punishment, 
 under which the strongest man may succumb. 
 Eeserve this power when thou hast it. Jack. 
 Three dozen, or even one, in the case of young 
 sailors, may be as efficacious as six dozen : a
 
 VERY WELL THEN 105 
 
 Avholesome discipline is better served by mode- 
 ration than by cruelty.' 
 
 I know not how fanny father's admonitions 
 produced good fruit. In after time Jack was 
 ready enough to rap out a profane word ; on 
 the other hand, he was beloved by the men on 
 account of his punishments, which were as 
 certain after offence as the stroke of tlie ship's 
 bell, but never cruel. It were to be wished 
 some captains on land as well as at sea would 
 remember that three dozen may be sometimes 
 as good as six dozen I It was but yesterday 
 that a poor fellow, a Grenadier, under sentence 
 to be shot for desertion, liad his punishment 
 commuted, as they call it, to five hundred 
 lashes. He appealed, and the previous sentence 
 was confirmed ; therefore he went boldly to 
 his death, thinking it better to be shot than 
 to be tortured by the lash until he died. 
 
 Then we all engaged upon Jack's sea-chest ; 
 and I suppose no bride ever contemplated her 
 new furniture and house-linen with more pride 
 and satisfaction than Jack bestowed upon his 
 chest. It was strong and stoutly made, with a
 
 io6 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 till and two trays. It contained his uniform 
 coat, his Wcitch coat, a glazed hat for night 
 watch in bad weather, two hats each with a 
 gold loop and a cockade, his stockings, shirts 
 (they were of the finest kind, fit for a young 
 gentleman, with lace ruffles), his boots, hand- 
 kerchief, crimson sash, and his hanger. Besides 
 these things there were his loo;-books, ruled 
 and [)repared for him by Mr. Westmore- 
 land ; pens cut for liim l:)y the same hand ; a 
 quadrant, with a day and a night glass ; tlie 
 ' Elements of Navigation,' the ' Sailor's Vade- 
 Mecum,' the ' Sea Gunner's Companion,' and a 
 book on the 'Method of Computing Observa- 
 tions,' so that he was amply provided with his 
 favourite reading. To tliese were added, by 
 my father, a copy of the Holy Bible, with the 
 Book of Common Prayei*. These thincfs, witli 
 a pocket compass and a tin pannikin or two, a 
 book of songs, and a few other trifles, made up 
 Jack's outfit. 
 
 When all was ready and the time of depar- 
 ture was come, the Admiral put into Iiis hand 
 a purse full of guineas, and told him that until
 
 VERY WELL THEN 107 
 
 sucli time as he should be rated midshipman, 
 an allowance of thirty guhieas a year should be 
 given to him. This is a liberal addition to a 
 boy's pay, and I doubt whether any other 
 youngster on board the ' Lenox ' possessed so 
 splendid an addition to liis two pounds a 
 month. 
 
 On the morning of his departure our young 
 hero appeared dressed for the iirst time in his 
 blue uniform coat, with the gold loop in his 
 hat, and his hanger at his side, trying to look 
 as if he had worn it for years, and was un- 
 concerned about his personal appearance. He 
 was going down to Sheerness in a tilt-boat, 
 accompanied by two of the Admiral's negroes, 
 to get his sea-chest aboard, and provided with 
 a letter for tlie captain. We all went down to 
 the Stairs with him — the Admiral, my father, 
 Castilla and myself, with Philadelphy. We 
 found, also waiting on the Stairs, Mr. West- 
 moreland and Bess, Mr. Brinjes, and the boy 
 Aaron Fletcher. 
 
 'Farewell, Master Jack,' said Mr. West- 
 moreland, in his cracked and squeaky voice,
 
 io8 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ' farewell ; I shall never have so good a pupil 
 again. Forget not the rules for the right plac- 
 ing of the decimal point, and do not neglect 
 practice in the Tables of Logarithms.' 
 
 ' Good-bye,' said Jack, shaking his hand. 
 * I will remember. Good-bye, Bess.' He laid 
 his arm round the girl's neck — slie was now 
 ten years of age, and as tall as Castilla, though 
 a year younger — and kissed her on both 
 cheeks. ' Good-bye, my girl — give me an- 
 other.' He kissed her ac^ain. Bess said no- 
 thing; but the tears rolled down her cheeks, 
 and her father drew her away to make room 
 for his betters. 
 
 Then Jack saw Aaron, and he laughed 
 aloud. 
 
 ' Ho ! ho ! Aaron Fletcher. There isn't 
 time for a fight this morning, Aaron,' he said ; 
 ' give us your hand.' 
 
 Aaron took the proffered hand, but doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 ' I thought I'd come to see the start. Master 
 Jack.' he said ; ' and I wanted to say ' 
 
 ' Well ? ' asked Jack ; for the lad hesitated.
 
 ' Good-bye, Bes
 
 VERY WELL THEN joo 
 
 ' To say when you come back — if it's next 
 year or next ten years — I'll figlit you again, for 
 all your gold loop.' 
 
 ' So you shall, Aaron — so you shall,' said 
 Jack, with another laugh. ' That's a bargain.' 
 
 And so, with a kiss to Castilla, and a shake 
 of the hand to me, and after receiving the 
 blessing of the Admiral, who needed not to 
 spoil its solemnity by a profane oath, he leaped 
 into the boat, took the strings, and ordered the 
 men to give way. But he looked back once, 
 and waved his hand, crying out, ' Good-bye, 
 Bess.' So his last thought was of the Penman's 
 girl. 
 
 ' When he comes home, Aaron,'" said Bess, 
 wiping away her tears, 'Jack shall beat you 
 into a jelly.' 
 
 ' I'll break every bone in his body for him,' 
 said Aaron. ' Oh ! I wish he would come back 
 to-morrow. And you may be there to see, if 
 you like.' 
 
 ' I shall tell him the first thing when he 
 comes back. What? You dare ask him to 
 fight ? You .^ I wonder, for my part, that a
 
 no THE WORLD WENT 
 
 Midshipman should dirty his fist upon your 
 face.' 
 
 The Admiral looked after the recediug boat, 
 his red face full of affection and emotion. 
 Beside him stood my father, in wig and cassock, 
 as becomes a Doctor of Divinity. Mr. Brinjes, 
 in his brown morning coat and scratch wig, 
 looked a strauge companion to them. But the 
 watermen on the Stairs stood aside even more 
 respectfully for him than for the Admiral. He 
 mio'ht, indeed, knock them over the head with 
 his gold-headed stick, but he could not, like 
 Mr. Brinjes, scatter rheumatic pains and tooth- 
 ache among them. 
 
 And here a singular thing happened. 
 There is no man more free from superstitious 
 terrors, I think, than myself. Yet I cannot but 
 remember that wdiile Castilla cried, and I 
 myself should have liked nothing better than 
 to cry, but for the unmanliness of tlie thing, 
 the old witch-w^oman — she was nothing less — 
 this Mandingo prophetess, whose powers were 
 as real as those believed to belong to Mr. 
 Brinjes — began to shiver and to shake and her
 
 VERY WELL THEN in 
 
 teeth to chatter. To be sure, it was a morning 
 in December, but mikl for the time of year, 
 and the sun shinino:. Xo doubt some cold 
 breatli struck her face and made lier shiver. 
 But, to rhiiadelphy, everything unexpected 
 was full of prophetic warning, coidd she read 
 it aright. 
 
 'What does it mean?' slie murmui'cd. 
 ' What in the world can it mean .^ I dun knoAV 
 what this shiver means : Mas'r Jack come liome 
 again, I think, and play mischief with some of 
 us. There's trouble sure, for somebody — 
 trouble and crying. Dun you be afraid. Miss 
 Castil, ole Philadelphy knoAV plenty words to 
 keep off the Devil.' 
 
 She meant that she had plenty of incanta- 
 tions or charms by which to avert and ward off 
 evil. I am sure there was never a Avitch- 
 woman or Obeah man on the African coast or 
 in Jamaica had more spells and secrets of magic 
 and unholy craft than this old negress.
 
 112 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MIDSHirMAN JACK. 
 
 ^HUS was Jack fairly launched and 
 started upon his profession. As 
 regards a boy's first days at sea, 
 they are reported by all to be the 
 most miserable in his Avhole life. For the 
 Quarters of the youngsters, volunteers and 
 midshipmen, on a ship of the line, are beneath 
 the lower gun-deck on what they call the cock- 
 pit or the orlop. This is a dark and gloomy 
 place, below the level of the water ; no dayhght 
 can ever come to it, and there can be little 
 access of pure air. Here tlie purser has his 
 stores, the surgeon keeps his drugs, the bo's'n 
 and carpenter tlieir ropes and spare gear, so 
 that the place smells continually of tallow, beef, 
 pork, tar, and bilge-water. It swarms with
 
 VERY WELL THEN 113 
 
 rats and cockroaches ; in time of battle the 
 wounded are brought here, near the after hatch- 
 way, as to the safest part of the vessel. Here 
 the youngsters hang their hammocks and stow 
 their chests. As for their mess, it is with the 
 surgeon's mate, the master's mate, the purser's 
 mate, and the captain's clerk. To boys brought 
 up delicately, the food is coarse ; new-comers 
 have to run the gauntlet of rough jokes, and the 
 horseplay which among these lads passes for wit : 
 it is that kind of wit to which the only answer 
 is by force of fist. The young sea-lions' i)lay is 
 always like a fight, and generahy ends in one. 
 Therefore, if a boy on board ship love not fight- 
 ing, he liad better tie a kedge-anchor round his 
 neck and drop overboard. But if, like Jack, 
 he loves and is always ready for a fight, and 
 will engage with the first who ofiers, however 
 big and strong he may be, then the society of 
 the midshipmen's mess may become delightful 
 to that boy ; for the wish of his heart will be 
 gratified. I believe this was Jack's case ; he 
 hath told me how for a week or two he fought 
 every day, and how, at the termination of each 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 encounter, he found reason to thank Aaron 
 Fletcher for his toughness and obstinacy, which 
 had taught him useful lessons. Further, there 
 are tricks to be endured, such as the stealing of 
 a boy's breeches when he is dressing, so that 
 he is late on deck, and is consequently mast- 
 headed : or the greasing of liis head with tallow 
 while he is asleep ; with many other nauseous 
 jokes, all of which have to be borne with good 
 humour until an opportunity occurs of revenge ; 
 or the little tyranny of one Avho, because he is a 
 head taller, tliinks he can do as he pleases ; one 
 such did Jack fight every day — getting, to be 
 sure, the worst of it — until the big fellow had 
 no more stomach for the fight, and left liis 
 adversary in peace. As for the gloom of his 
 quarters, and their narrowness and discomfort 
 — why. Jack had seen them often enough, and 
 knew what to expect, and cared not two pins 
 for them. As for sea-sickness. Jack never felt 
 it. The rough sea fare he liked ; and as for 
 the daily duty and the sharp discipline, these 
 were part of the profession, and designed for 
 the safety and government of some hundreds of
 
 VERY WELL THEN 115 
 
 lives and the accomplishment of the ship's pur- 
 pose. If a sailor would be happy, he must, I 
 take it, acquire, as soon as possible, the feeling 
 of association. Everything has to be shared ; 
 if he take on board with him and nourish the 
 desire, common to all landsmen, of getting as 
 much comfort for himself as he can seize, he 
 will never be easy. Comfort, I suppose, and 
 ease of body, are served out, on board a 
 man-o'-war, in rations and pannikins — hke the 
 rum. 
 
 Jack's good luck began, as I have mentioned, 
 with his first voyage — that is to say, whatever 
 good fortune can come to one so young fell to 
 him, as you shall see. 
 
 The 'Lenox' sailed on Dec. 5, 1747, and, 
 meeting with none of the enemy on her voyage, 
 joined Admiral Knowles at Port Eoyal, in 
 Jamaica, on Feb. 8 — a short passage — the ship 
 being a fast sailer and ably handled. 
 
 As this war took place when I was a child, 
 coming happily to an end when I was but 
 twelve years of age, I know little about it, save 
 that my early recollections are all of activity 
 
 I 2
 
 ii6 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 in the Yard, the going and coming of ships, 
 the building and launching of ships, the 
 hurry and the business of war. There were 
 some very fine engagements at sea, I believe, 
 of which I know only one or two — those, 
 namely, in which Jack was engaged ; and there 
 were some memorable actions fought on land, 
 of which that of Dettino-en was one. There are 
 in every century so many wars ; there are in 
 every v/ar so many actions, every one of which 
 in the eyes of tliose who have fought on the 
 victorious side, and especially in tlje eyes of tlie 
 Admiral or General, is so memoral^le that it 
 will remain for ever in the history of the world 
 as a feat of arms never to be forgotten. This 
 vanity is like that of the poet, who thinks that 
 for an ode to ' Fame,' or to ' Victory,' pu Wished 
 in the ' European ' or the ' Lady's Magazine,' 
 he is covered with glory and crowned with 
 an everlasting wreath of bays. One immortal 
 victory is succeeded by another ; one General 
 causes his predecessor to be forgotten ; one 
 poem is followed by another ; then both are 
 suffered to repose between the leather binding
 
 VERY WELL THEN 117 
 
 of the volumes which contain them. It is only 
 the work of the painter which lives on the walls 
 for all men to admire in all ages to come. 
 
 I say, then, that whatever imperishable 
 glory surrounds the names of those wlio con- 
 ducted for the Allies this war, I know of none 
 except that whicli belongs to one squadron in 
 the last year of the war. An account of it may 
 be read in Mr. John Hill's ' History of the 
 British Navy,' itself compiled from the papers of 
 the late Honourable Captain George Berkeley, 
 E.N., which stops short at this chapter, the 
 book having been published at the beginning of 
 the next war. What I know of it is taken from 
 the description of these affairs given me by Jack 
 himself. 
 
 The ' Lenox,' then, arrived at Port Eoyal on 
 Feb. 8, 1748. The captain was heartily wel- 
 comed by Admiral Knowles, who was on the 
 point of sailing on an expedition from which 
 the best was hoped. By the greatest exertions, 
 the ship was provisioned in readiness to join, 
 and the squadron. Governor Trelawny accom- 
 panying the Admiral, left Port Eoyal on the 13th
 
 Ii8 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 with design to attack Santiago, or Saint Jago, the 
 most important town and port of Cuba, next to 
 Plavana. The squadron was strengthened by 
 a detachment of 240 men of the Governor's 
 reo^iment. Tlie fleet unhappily met with contrary 
 winds, which were so long and persistent that 
 the Admiral resolved upon changing the plan 
 of the expedition. It was, therefore, decided 
 to make an attack upon Port Louis, on the 
 south side of Hispaniola. Thither, therefore, 
 the wind being favourable, they sailed, and 
 arrived in good order. On the 8th of March, 
 the ships being then almost within pistol-shot 
 of the walls, the attack w^as commenced ; the 
 cannonade lasted three hours, at the end of 
 which time the enemy's guns were silenced, 
 and the Governor proposed to capitulate. He 
 sent an officer off with propositions, which the 
 Admiral refused, and sent back his own, giving 
 an hour for consideration. Before the end of 
 that time they were accepted, and the place 
 w^as taken. ' I beheved,' said Jack, telling me 
 of this, his first action, ' that every cannon-shot 
 that struck the ship or flew through the rigging
 
 VERY WELL THEN 119 
 
 was going to knock my head off, not thinking 
 that, by the time I heard the noise of it, tlie 
 danger was over. Yet I was resolved to stand 
 at my quarters, and do my duty as well as I 
 could ; but for the life of me I could not help 
 ducking my head, till the gunner spied me and 
 found time to fetcli me a clout on the head, 
 saying, " You fool, that cannon-ball was half 
 a mile beyond the ship before you ducked. 
 Hold up your head, and remember that when 
 it is knocked off, you will have no time to duck 
 out of its way." So, with that I plucked up, 
 and was comforted to see the men at the guns, 
 none of them killed, and none of them ducking. 
 So I was highly ashamed of myself till they 
 told me afterwards that, at the first enixao'e- 
 ment, most everybody ducks. As for the 
 Captain, he was on the quarter-deck, and 
 scorned to show the least fear ; and the men 
 at dieir quarters only laughed, even when a 
 shot struck the ship and fragments of the 
 timbers went flying about. But it was fine to 
 see how, one by one, we silenced the guns. 
 Only I should like to see fighting at close
 
 120 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 quarters. This pounding with the big guns at 
 long range is not to my taste.' 
 
 There was some work for the boats as well ; 
 for the enemy set fire to one of their ships, 
 and endeavoured to send her alongside the 
 Admiral's ship ; but boats were sent off, which 
 towed her clear, and took possession of two 
 more designed for the same purpose, though 
 the enemy's musketry fired smartly on them 
 all the time. Our loss in the whole action was 
 only ten men killed, among whom were 
 Captain Eenton, of the ' Stafford,' and Captain 
 Cast, a volunteer, w^ith sixty wounded. The 
 loss of the enemy was a hundred and twenty- 
 eight killed. The fort contained seventy-eight 
 cannon and a vast quantity of ammunition and 
 stores, the whole of which was taken possession 
 of and the fort blown up. 
 
 I dare say it was a small business, but it 
 seemed a great one to the boy, who thus took 
 part in an action for the first time. 
 
 This affair concluded, the Admiral pro- 
 ceeded to put into execution his design upon 
 Saint Jago.
 
 VERY WELL THEN 121 
 
 The attack, however, failed, because they 
 found a chain across with two large ships and 
 two small ones filled with combustibles and 
 ready to be set on fire at the first attempt to 
 break the chain. This was mortifying, and 
 added nothing to the Admiral's reputation. 
 But six months later, it was Jack's good 
 fortune to take part in a spirited action wdth 
 the Spanish squadron between Havana and 
 Tortugas. It w^as in October, and I believe 
 after the peace had been signed ; but this they 
 knew not. The Spanish fleet consisted of the 
 same number of ships as our own, but larger, 
 and with double the number of men. There 
 was a court-martial afterwards, and the Admiral 
 was reprimanded for not shifting his flag when 
 his own ship was disabled. Therefore the 
 action is not one of those in which tlie country 
 can take the most pride. But this had nothing 
 to do with a young midshipman, and no one 
 ever denied that the ' Lenox,' for her part, was 
 admirably fought and handled, seeing that 
 when the ' Cornwall,' the Admiral's ship, was 
 disabled, the ' Lenox ' had to sustain the fire of
 
 123 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 the whole of the squadron until the arrival of 
 the ' Canterbury ' and the ' Warwick.' At sun- 
 down the ' Spaniard ' began to retreat, but not 
 before their great ship the ' Conquestador ' was 
 taken. Admiral Knowles has been further 
 reproached with not prosecuting the pursuit 
 with greater vigour. However that may be, 
 he fell in, two days afterwards, with the 
 Spanish Admiral's ship, the ' Africa,' and blew 
 her up. Wliatever might have been our 
 success it cannot, therefore, be denied that we 
 took two out of seven ships, and compelled the 
 rest to run away. As for Jack, he had learned 
 now to receive the enemj^'s broadsides without 
 ducking ; ' but what amazed me most,' he told 
 us, ' was that there was no shouting or crying 
 among the men. They were all as cool as if 
 they were firing a salute at Spithead. When 
 a man was wounded and fell, he was carried 
 below, so there was not much of tlie groaning 
 and shrieking that landsmen talk about. Why, 
 those fellows of ours will have a leg sawn off 
 and never groan. Whereas, if a man is killed, 
 you can't expect liim to groan afterwards. To
 
 VERY WELL THEN 123 
 
 be sure, I've never seen a fight with a boarding 
 party. And I sny, Luke, the first time you see 
 a man killed, when he foils down in a heap on 
 the deck, and his face turns quite white, and 
 his arms and legs lying out anyway, as if he 
 didn't care wdiat was going to happen — it 
 makes you feel sick and dizzy. But the men 
 only laugh, because everyone- takes his turn ; 
 and you can't escaj)e the bullet tliat is bound 
 to kill you. If it wasn't for knowing that, 
 nobody would be able to feel happy, and work 
 with a will, Avhile the shots are flying about. 
 Luke, there's another thing; ' — here his voice 
 dropped to a whisper — ' there's a thing I never 
 knew before, nor suspected. There's cowardly 
 captains, even in the King's Navy — captains 
 who won't crow^l on the canvas in pursuit, and 
 drop out of action, pretending to be disabled. 
 They never told me that — not even Mr. 
 lirinjes told me. And half-hearted captains. 
 Wh}^, if all they say is true, we should 
 have been inside Saint Jago, instead of sheer- 
 ing off after a broadside or two. But 
 there's more brave captains than the other
 
 124 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 sort ; and so you'll see when next we have 
 a brush.' 
 
 For the ' Lenox,' with Admiral Knowles's 
 squadron, had now returned and the ship was 
 paid off, and Jack had made his way home 
 again, when you may Le sure we killed the 
 fatted calf and gave him welcome. He was 
 gone, on that voyage, for the best part of two 
 years, and was now lifteen years of age, and 
 looked eighteen, being so big and strong. The 
 sun and the wind had painted his cheeks a 
 lively colour, his hands were brown, his speech 
 w^as rough, and his bearing was manly. 
 Wonderful it was to see the confidence and the 
 manliness of one so young, to say nothing of the 
 pride he took in the exploits of his ship. These, 
 we presently discovered, lost nothing in the 
 tellini]^. He broudit home a most beautiful 
 necklace of red coral which had been found in 
 the fort of Port Louis, belonging, no doubt, to 
 one of the mulatto or half-caste women, who 
 were both the slaves and the mistresses of the 
 Spaniards in those parts. He showed it to me 
 one day, and I expected he would give it to
 
 VERY WELL THEN 125 
 
 Castilla. Fortimately, I told her nothing about 
 it, and presently I saw it round the neck of 
 Bess Westmoreland. It is so common at 
 Deptford to see girls of her class decorated with 
 gold chains, coral necklaces, jewelled brooches, 
 and all kinds of finery (for a few days onh% 
 because they speedily send the things to 
 London to be sold), that no one asked who had 
 given the child an ornament so unsuitable for 
 her position. As for Castilla and myself, if 
 Jack before he went away was going to be a 
 hero, he was now actually become one ; we 
 were fully persuaded that when at Port Louis 
 the boats towed off the fire-ship with the 
 musket-balls spattering in the water, it must 
 have been Jack Avho sat in the stern ; and 
 Avhen the ' Conquestador ' surrendered it must 
 have been in terror at the sight of this youthful 
 conqueror, terrible with his sword in his hand ; 
 and when the ' Africa ' blew up it was because 
 the Spanish Admiral perceived that he could 
 not hope to contend any longer with this young 
 sea-lion ; and, considering the Admiral's want 
 of spirit, it was nothing but the presence of
 
 126 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 Jack that saved the fleet from disaster. I 
 began to draw pictures, representing episodes 
 in the three actions in which our hero had taken 
 part, such as Jack repelhng boarders, laying 
 about him with such an intrepid air as com- 
 manded terror and admiration in all who 
 beheld it. Behind him stood the British tars, 
 ready to back him up with cutlass, pistol, and 
 pike. Or another, in which I displayed the 
 two ships at close quarters, with grappling- 
 irons, and Jack leaping singly upon the enemy's 
 deck, a pike in one hand and a cutlass in the 
 other ; and there Was Jack laying the gim that 
 was to hit the enemy between wind and water, 
 and so sink her : he performed the operation 
 with thoughtful face, the captain standing by, 
 wrapt in admiration. They were wonderful 
 pictures. Jack laughed at them, but did not 
 deny that, perhaps, there might be truth in the 
 subjects. I gave them to Castilla, who put 
 them away. She hath since assured me that 
 she hath kept them out of regard for tlie 
 hand which drew them. That is doubtless 
 true, since she says so. But I think tliere
 
 VERY WELL THEN 127 
 
 must have been, at tlie same time, some 
 admiration for the hero of those designs. 
 
 I do not describe the joy with which the 
 Admiral received the boy, nor tlie pleasure 
 with which he listened to his account of the 
 actions he liad witnessed. As for the manner 
 in which Jack sought out Mr. Brinjes, every- 
 body knows the contempt with which the com- 
 batant branch recjards the civil branch, thouo-h 
 the surgeon's mate, by order of the Xavy Office, 
 is considered a gentleman, and messes with the 
 midshipmen ; so tliat there was condescension 
 in a midshipman visiting an apothecary. Yet, 
 as Mr. Brinjes w^as an old friend. Jack could 
 not but treat him with kindliness mingled with 
 superiority. Moreover, he had by this time 
 himself visited the places of wdiich Mr. Brinjes 
 loved most to speak. He had seen the negroes 
 of Port Eoyal and Spanish Town, and those 
 of Bridgetown, Barbadoes ; and of St. Kitt's ; 
 though as yet he had never seen tiie Guinea 
 Coast. One is not afloat for nearly two years 
 without learning and hearing things. So that 
 for every tale which Mr. Brinjes had to tell. Jack
 
 128 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 had now hnlf a dozen. And I remarked that, 
 like the apothecary, Jack loved to figure as the 
 hero in his own stories. This is a temptation 
 to which men are all liable, and especially 
 sailors ; becanse, I snppose, they are looked 
 npon by the world as certain to have had ad- 
 ventures ; and there is no man in Greenwich 
 Hospital who has never been wrecked, or cast 
 away, or been attacked by savages and by 
 sharks, or had a brush with pirates. 
 
 As regards the quality of these stories and 
 the art of making and telhng them, if there is 
 any art in so simple a thing as tlie telling of 
 a sailor's yarn, it must be owned tliat the 
 apothecary showed himself the superior. For 
 it is required of such a tale that tliere must be 
 liijfhtino' in it, with much bloodshed, narrow 
 escapes, starvation in boats, pirates, and desert 
 islands. All of these were snpplied by Mr. 
 Brinjes, whereas poor Jack had as yet nothing 
 bnt his three battles. Bess, you may be sure, 
 came to sit with us in the room behind the 
 shop, and to hear Jack talk. She sat in the 
 wnndow-seat, her hands folded in her lap, gazing
 
 VERY WELL THEX 
 
 129 
 
 at her hero all the time, and speaking not a 
 word save when Mr. Brinjes or I ventured to 
 interrupt the flow of Jack's manly conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 Two days after Jack returned, the promised 
 fight with Aaron Fletcher came off in my 
 presence, and that of Bess, who, I believe, was 
 the chief instigator of the combat — having a 
 vehement desire to see Aaron punished for 
 certain disrespectful words spoken in Jack's 
 absence. 
 
 He was a little older than his adversary, and 
 now bigger of frame, and as hard as was to be 
 expected of a young man who spent his days 
 and nights chiefly in a fishing-smack — he called 
 it a fishing-smack — between Eamsgate, or Leigh 
 in Essex, and the coast of Holland or of 
 France. 
 
 They fought in the gardens behind the 
 Stowage. It is beneath the dignity of history 
 to describe an encounter with fists between two 
 boys. Suflicient it is to say that Jack took off 
 his coat laughing, and the other scowling ; that 
 they fought for an hour, with some vicissitudes 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 I30 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 — Aaron, so to speak, carrying heavier metal, 
 but Jack handling his guns with more dex- 
 terity ; that Bess stood by, clapping her hands 
 when Jack's fist went home, and taunting Aaron 
 when he fell — which made both combatants the 
 fiercer ; that, finally, Aaron was disabled, and 
 had to retire from the conflict by the disloca- 
 tion of a finger, which gave Jack the victory. 
 But both were so mauled and bruised, their 
 faces so covered with blood and swollen, that 
 the battle must have ended in neither being 
 able to see. 
 
 ' I'll fight you again — and again after that,' 
 said Aaron, mopping his face, with dark and 
 savage looks. 
 
 What did they fight for ? Well : one was 
 a gentleman, and the other a mechanic ; one 
 was a midshipman in the King's service, and 
 the other was a smuggler. Surely, these things 
 were enough. If you want more, remember 
 that even at sixteen a youngster may fall in 
 love and be jealous. Aaron was already in love 
 with the black eyes of Bess, w^io was now
 
 VERY WELL THEN 131 
 
 nearly twelve, but like a Spanish girl in this 
 respect, that at twelve she might have passed 
 for fifteen at least. And Bess, who would have 
 none of him, thought of nobody but our hand- 
 some Jack. 
 
 K §
 
 132 
 
 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 CHAPTEE VI, 
 
 THE ' COUNTESS OF DORSET,' 
 
 ITH the return of the fleets, and the 
 signing of the Peace of Aix-la- 
 
 , Chapelle, came a great reduction 
 of the Naval Estimates which, in 
 the year 1750, provided for no more than ten 
 thousand men, instead of fifty thousand. This 
 step, aUhough it returned thousands of men 
 to the merchant service, the coast service, the 
 colliers, the fishing trade, and the river, sent 
 back more than were w^anted, so there was 
 great distress with men out of work all round 
 the coast, and a large increase of smuggling. 
 Many regiments of marines were disbanded at 
 the same time, and so men who, having been 
 long engaged in active service, had lost the arts 
 of peace and forgotten their former trades, wTre
 
 VERY WELL THEN 133 
 
 thrown upon the country seeking employment, 
 and, for the most part, findmg none. Again, 
 from the dockyards were dismissed an immense 
 number of artificers, such as skilled shipwrights, 
 carpenters, figurehead-carvers, painters, deco- 
 rators, and the like, besides a host of unskilled 
 labourers, who had been receiving good wages, 
 and now found themselves without work and 
 for the most part without money. Add to this 
 that the trade of those wlio get their living out 
 of the ships and the sailors, and by navy con- 
 tracts, was suddenly shrunk into nothing, like a 
 bladder w^hich is pricked, and you will under- 
 stand why, though the country breathed and 
 the merchants of London and Bristol rejoiced, 
 the seaports and dockyard towns groaned and 
 lamented. As for the shipwrights, there is 
 always employment for some in one or other of 
 the private building-yards — such as Pett's or 
 Taylor's, or in tlie repairing-docks, as the Acorn 
 and the Lavender ; but what are these even 
 when working their utmost compared with the 
 King's yards and their continual demand in 
 time of war ? It is true that a large number
 
 134 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 of disbanded soldiers, marines, and artificers 
 received grants of land in ISTova Scotia, and 
 were transported thither. But there are never 
 many in proportion to the whole number who 
 can suddenly become farmers, and who fear not 
 the cold of that inhospitable place. As for the 
 unfortunate sailors, there were, to be sure, 
 always new hands wanted for the merchant 
 ships ; but a man cannot look to get a berth as 
 soon as he desires ; and other work they can do 
 none. No one ever heard of a sailor following 
 the plough, or becoming a shoemaker, or 
 working in a carpenter's shop. It seems as if 
 keeping the watch, bending the sails, and work- 
 insr the 2[uns, make a man unfit for other kinds 
 of work. The disbanded soldier may turn his 
 hand to anything, but not the sailor. So that 
 when his pay and prize-money are all spent — 
 which never takes the honest fellow long, so 
 ready is the assistance of his friends — ^lie has 
 nothing to do but to lean against the posts, or 
 to stand about the riverside, waiting for a 
 chance. Often for a lodging he is reduced to 
 sleeping on the bulks in the open street, and,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 135 
 
 for his food, to take whatever may be given him 
 by the charity of his fellows. And, at last, 
 when this fails, if he cannot ship even on a hoy 
 or a hay-barge, what wonder if he takes to 
 running; a fishing;- smack over to France for 
 brandy ? And then one hears of a desperate 
 affray with the King's officers on the Sussex 
 coast ; and tliese are the times when the roads 
 become infested with footpads — men driven 
 desperate by poverty, who might have re- 
 mained honest fellows had they been kept to 
 their colours, or to their ships ; and in the 
 houses of Deptford, where there had been 
 plenty, and the laughter of little children, Avere 
 now crying women and hungry babes, witli the 
 dreadful temptations of poverty and hunger. 
 I am sure there is no more terrible temptation 
 than this ; let us never cease, rich and poor to- 
 gether, to pray in the w^ords commanded, ' Give 
 us this day our daily bread.' 
 
 There are some who think that the custom 
 of disbanding the troops and paying off the 
 men is an evil one, because, they argue, first, 
 if you would secure peace be prepared for war.
 
 136 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 as is shown in lively fashion by the fable of 
 -^sop ; and if you are always ready to fight, 
 the enemy will be less ready to give provoca- 
 tion ; and, next, a better plan, if the forces 
 must be reduced, would be to diminish them 
 gradually, by suffering those to go who wished, 
 and enlisting no more, so that speedily, and 
 without injustice, an establishment on a peace 
 footing could be secured. But in the Navy 
 Office prudent counsels have never yet prevailed 
 (I say this not of my own wisdom, but from 
 general consent of those who have had oppor- 
 tunity of studying things naval), and I suppose 
 will not, until some great calamity befall our 
 country, and makes us call for neither Whig nor 
 Tory, but for those who desire the greatness 
 and the prosperity of these islands. 
 
 Sad, indeed, was the case of the younger 
 officers — the midshipmen, like Jack — who had 
 little interest, and now feared that they might 
 never become lieutenants. The more choking 
 it was, because everybody had been looking for 
 a long war, with plenty of prize-money and 
 quick promotion. And now, in the estimation
 
 VERY WELL THEN 137 
 
 of many, not only was peace signed, but it was 
 assured and would be lasting ; because, tliese 
 sagacious politicians of the coffee-house asked, 
 why should France w^ish to make war again, 
 having received not only so severe a lesson, 
 but also terms of peace far more honourable 
 than she could have expected ? The events of 
 the next few years have shown very plainly 
 how anxious France has been to keep her word 
 and to maintain peace. Perhaps, now that we 
 have at last happily turued her out of Canada 
 and the East Indies, and reduced her powder in 
 the West Indies, her turbulence may abate for 
 a time. But one knows not ; we are nearintr 
 the end of the eighteenth century, and we can- 
 not tell what may happen before that end 
 arrives. However, the merchant adventurer 
 naturally desires peace, and therefore is ready 
 to prophesy that peace will be lasting, because 
 we are always glad to believe wdiat we desire. 
 I have heard that the activity of the French 
 yards was never relaxed during these years of 
 peace ; certainly, they never commenced any 
 war with more magnificent fleets than those
 
 138 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 vdiicli tliey sent to sea a few years later in the 
 year 1756. 
 
 As for Jack, after being ashore for two or 
 three months, and finding no prospect of em- 
 ployment, he began to hang his head, and to 
 be despondent, longing to be afloat again, and 
 seeing no chance. In truth, there was little in 
 a landsman's life that he cared for, being, at 
 this period, not much better than a sea cub, a 
 species of animal little loved by any except 
 those who know that he will grow into a lion. 
 That is to say, he took no joy in reading, unless 
 it was the description of a sea action — always, 
 to my thinking, tedious to read. Jack, who 
 did not think so, used to illustrate the history 
 with the aid of walnuts placed in position, and 
 showing, to his imagination, better than any 
 drawing, how the fiopht was conducted. The 
 gentle arts of poetry, music, painting, and danc- 
 ing had no charms for him. He liked not the 
 society of ladies, old or young, nor the polite 
 conversation which pleases them ; and as yet he 
 had not felt the passion of love. I believe he 
 was set against the sex by Mr. Brinjes, who
 
 VERY WELL THEN 139 
 
 loved no woman except such as had a black 
 and shining skin, and lived somewhere about 
 Old Calabar. As for Bess, she was the most 
 congenial companion to him at this time, be- 
 cause she never tired of listening to his talk 
 about the sea, and what he was going to do. 
 But as for love, he had none for her at this time. 
 Of this I am assured. 
 
 Everybody has heard of the 'Countess of 
 Dorset ' ; how she set sail in order to navigate 
 the great Pacific Ocean and never returned, and 
 how for many years nothing was known of her 
 fate any more than is known of the fate of Sir 
 Cloudesley Shovel. It is matter for regret that 
 the single officer who was saved out of that 
 wreck and survived the incredible sufierings 
 which followed sliould not have been able to 
 narrate in lively and moving fashion the par- 
 ticulars of this grievous disaster. Surely, a 
 history as instructive as that of Commodore 
 Anson might be made of this voyage. But 
 now, I suppose, it will never be written. 
 
 Soon after the peace, the ' Countess of
 
 I40 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 Dorset,' which was lying up in ordinary, was 
 fitted out in Deptford Yard. She carried an 
 armament of forty-four guns, and was a frigate 
 well reported as a sailer and for behaving well 
 in heavy weather ; ships being, as is well 
 known, capricious in this respect ; so that you 
 may construct two vessels of exactly the same 
 measurements, on the same lines, and yet, while 
 one is easily handled and is obedient to her 
 helm, the other shall be lubberly and difficult 
 to steer ; and one shall sail fast and the other 
 slow : so that when any vessel is launched, it is 
 impossible to tell beforehand what she will be 
 like, and one cannot judge by the behaviour of 
 a sister- ship. As for her destination, it was as 
 yet unknown ; but some thought she was to 
 form part of the Jamaica fleet. 
 
 One afternoon, however, the Admiral called 
 Jack, and held a serious conversation witli 
 him. 
 
 'Thou art now, my lad,' he said, 'truly 
 becalmed, and in the Doldrums ; or, worse 
 still, in a leeward tide, and drifting on the 
 rocks. In a word, if a berth be not found
 
 VERY WELL THEN 141 
 
 before long, thou may'st give up all further 
 hopes of the King's Navy. I am sorry for 
 thee, lad. There is John Company, to be sure 
 —they have a hundred vessels, they say — but 
 their commanders are fond of their ease ; and, 
 besides, without interest in the India House, 
 how can one hope for promotion? It would 
 grieve me to see thee mate of a merchantman. 
 Yet, what help ? ' 
 
 ' I can ship as an able seaman. Sir, as soon 
 as I am old enough.' 
 
 ' Ay, ay ! But we must hope for something 
 better. Listen, my boy. I have this morning 
 conversed Avith the Commissioner of the Yard, 
 Captain Petherick, who has imparted to me a 
 secret. The ^ Countess of Dorset ' is bound for a 
 cruise in the Southern Seas. I have therefore 
 sent an application in thy name to the Navy 
 Office. Because, Jack, though it is not the 
 service I could have wished for thee, yet, seeing 
 that there is little chance of anything better, 
 we must e'en make the best of it, and if we 
 get thee billeted on her as midshipman we 
 shall be fortunate. The voyage will be long
 
 142 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 and tedious. There will be no figliting, unless 
 — which I doubt — the captain judges it well to 
 seek out and capture the Manila galleon. They 
 say there are islands out there filled with black 
 pirates and cannibals ; but I never heard of 
 any honour to be obtained in fighting these 
 poor devils. When you have gotten across the 
 Pacific Ocean, there may be engagements with 
 Chinese and Malay fellows. They have stink- 
 pots and poisoned arrows. You will have to 
 fight them at close quarters with pike and 
 cutlass and boiling pitch, as well as with guns. 
 But where is the glory of such an action com- 
 pared with an engagement, yard-arm to yard- 
 arm, with a Frenchman or a Spaniard of equal 
 weight ? ' 
 
 ' I should like to go, Sir,' said Jack, his eyes 
 kindling. 
 
 ' The Lord knows,' continued the Admiral, 
 ' when you would come back again ! And 
 meantime, while you and your company were 
 cruising in unknown waters, another war might 
 break out, and you would lose your chance, 
 which, indeed, would be the Devil.'
 
 VERY WELL THEN 143 
 
 ' But if no war break out, then my chance 
 may be lost the other way.' 
 
 ' It would so, Jack. Perhaps we might get 
 thee a berth — but of midshipmen there are 
 plenty, and of ships in commission there are 
 few. Yet the Commissioner tells me they 
 have secret intelligence that the French are 
 busy in Toulon and Eochelle. What doth this 
 mean if peace is to continue ? And complaints 
 have been received from New England of 
 infractions by the French. Is this a sign of 
 peace? However, we know not. The King- 
 grows old ; the young Prince is reported to be 
 of a pacific disposition — but talking is vain.' 
 
 Briefly, the Admiral's application proved 
 successful. Jack was appointed to the ' Countess 
 of Dorset.' 
 
 When Mr. Brinjes heard of this appoint- 
 ment and the saihug orders of the ship, he 
 showed a strange emotion. 
 
 ' What ? ' he asked. ' Thou, too, art going 
 to the South Seas, Jack ? Why, it may be that 
 the ship — but I know not — 'tis unlikely, or — 
 w^hich I doubt. Thou art young yet. Jack;
 
 144 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 but if I tell thee my secret, tliougli without 
 imparting, yet, the latitude and longitude, while 
 in those seas, thinking of what I shall tell thee, 
 and mindful of the future, thou mayest take 
 observations, and when the ship comes home 
 we will talk further of the matter. For look 
 ye, my boy, I am sure that I shall not die 
 before I have seen again that place — but wait 
 until I liave told thee. What ? You think I 
 am but a poor apothecary, admitted to sit 
 among gentlemen because I can cure their gout 
 for them, and feared by the common sort be- 
 cause I can bring rheumatism upon them ? 
 You shall see. You think I have nothing but 
 the few guineas in my till. Why, then, listen, 
 and keep the secret for me ; though if all the 
 world knew, no one would be one whit the 
 for'arder. Yet keep the secret ; and now, boy, 
 reach me down the chart.'
 
 VERY WELL THEN 145 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 Mil. BRIXJES CONCLUDES THE STORY OF HIS 
 VOYAGE. 
 
 |HOSE who will read this history 
 through, and then consider the 
 various parts of it, will not fail 
 to be amazed with the manner in 
 \vhich Jack was prepared for the fulfilment 
 of his fate and for the close of his life (if that 
 hath yet happened) by a crowd of circumstances 
 Avhich seem to have indicated it and led him 
 irresistibly. For, first, it was permitted to 
 him — a rare thing — to make the acquaintance 
 of two who had voyaged upon the South Seas 
 — I mean as officers, and of the better sort; 
 for of those who had set foot on Juan Fernandez^ 
 fought the Creohan Spaniards at Payta, Guaya- 
 quil, and Panama, and insulted their settlements 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 in the Philippine Islands, there were many in 
 Greenwich Hospital and the Trinity Alms- 
 houses of Deptford. Of these two, one, the 
 apothecary, would relate his adventures in a 
 moving manner, so as to make a boy's cheek 
 burn and his pulses beat. The other, it is true, 
 was a phlegmatic man, but there were parts 
 even of his narrative — as, for example, when 
 the castaways built a crazy boat, thirty feet 
 long, and put to sea only forty strong, yet 
 resolved to attack the first Spanish vessel they 
 sighted, though they had but three cutlasses 
 and half a dozen muskets and a small cannon, 
 for which there was no stand, so that it had to 
 be fired from the deck ; and for all their pro- 
 visions nothing but stinking conger-eel, dried 
 in the sun, and one cask of water, fitted with a 
 musket-barrel, by which each man drank in 
 turn — I say that there were parts of his narra- 
 tive which would fire the boy, and make his 
 eyes bright. For the hearing of such sufferings 
 only stimulates a boy who is intended by 
 nature for a sailor. Next, there were the books 
 lent to him by Captain Petherick, all of voyages,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 147 
 
 especially in Oceauus Australis, and Magel- 
 lanica. And, tliirdly, he was, while yet a boy, 
 to sail across the great Pacific Ocean, which is 
 said to fill those who have once voyaged on its 
 waters with a strange love and desire to return 
 thither, if only to meet with shipwreck and 
 starvation. What follows, however, was the 
 story which Mr. Brinjes now completed — a 
 strange story, truly. 
 
 ' I told you,' he began, ' that we were 
 driven off our course north of the latitude in 
 which we hoped to sight the great Manila ship. 
 She carried I know not how many cannon, and 
 I know not how many hundreds of men. But 
 we were a hundred and twenty strong, all 
 well-armed resolute men ; and they were Cre- 
 olian Spaniards, a cowardly crew, who when 
 they have fired their small-arms can do no more, 
 and when the English lads board the craft fall 
 to bawling for Quarter, and strike their flag. 
 There is but one rule in these waters : it is to 
 attack the Spanish flag whenever you find it, 
 and to look for no resistance once you come to 
 close quarters, unless the ofiicers, which some- 
 
 L 2
 
 148 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 times happens, are French ; then they will fight, 
 Now mark what happened to us. The same 
 tempest which drove iis so far north caught 
 the Manila ship as well, of which we were in 
 search, and drove her also out of her course, 
 treating her even more roughly than ourselves. 
 We sighted her one morning at daybreak. 
 There could be no doubt about her ; there are 
 not many ships of her build in the North 
 Pacific. As soon as we were near enough to 
 make her out all hands were called to quarters, 
 and ,we prepared for action with joyful hearts 
 — loading the guns and small-arms, and sharpen- 
 ing cutlasses and pikes. As we drew nearer, 
 and the daylight stronger, the sea being now 
 quite smooth, save for a gentle swell, we per- 
 ceived a strange thing — namely, tliat her main- 
 mast and her foremast were gone by the board, 
 only her mizen stancling ; her bows and bul- 
 warks were stove in, and her rudder was lost. 
 She was drifting about upon the water, helpless 
 as a log. She had no sails set ; most of her 
 rigging was cut away. We fired a shot by 
 way of signol, but received no reply ; then we
 
 VERY WELL THEN 149 
 
 drew nearer. Not a man could be seen. Were 
 they all hiding down below, or were they 
 hatching some treachery? We ranged presently 
 alongside, cautiously standing to our guns, and 
 expectiug nothing less than a broadside. But 
 the guns, on the upper-deck, at least, were not 
 manned ; nor was there a soul to be seen, or 
 the least sign of life. However, our boarding 
 party leaped aboard, with a shout, expecting 
 some trick of the enemy. Boys, there was not 
 a man left in all that great ship. How they 
 got off — by what boats, or on what raft — I 
 know not, nor did I ever learn. She was 
 deserted ; she Avas floating about these lonely 
 seas, a great treasure-ship, with all her treasure 
 still on board ! Why, she was not ours by 
 right of conquest ; she was ours by the law of 
 the sea, because she was a derelict. We were 
 pirates, if you please, or rovers, or adventurers. 
 Whatever we were, that ship was our own 
 because we picked her up.' 
 
 ' What ! ' cried Jack, ' no fighting ? ' 
 ' None, my lad. On that voyage there was 
 no fighting with the Spaniards from beginning
 
 ISO 777^ WORLD WENT 
 
 to end. As for this great inlieritance, into 
 whicli we came without a question or a blow, 
 'twas all left undisturbed on board with the 
 precious cargo of which it formed a part. 
 Strange it was to walk 'tween decks, and see 
 them filled with the bales of silks, the spices, 
 the rich stuffs, that the galleon was carrying to 
 Acapulco. There was also a beautiful collection 
 of small-armS; and swords with jewelled hilts, 
 pistols with carved stocks, brass carronades, 
 and such carved work in wood, for the state- 
 rooms and the captain's cabin, as one could sell 
 in London for its weight in silver, at least. 
 There was also a great quantity of wine, which 
 was seasonable, for our spirits were well-nigh 
 drunk out, and there was no probability of our 
 getting more. We took all the wine and the 
 arms, and as much of the silks and embroidered 
 stuff as every man pleased ; so that we went 
 about as fine as so many princes, with purple 
 and crimson sashes. The spices we mostly left 
 on the ship ; but the powder we took out of 
 her, and all her provisions. And then we
 
 VERY WELL THEN 151 
 
 found the treasure. It was packed in small 
 iron-bound chests, in gold pieces-of-eight and 
 other coins, worth, as near as I could calculate, 
 judging from the weight, about two hundred 
 and fifty thousand pounds of our money. 
 Think of two hundred and fifty thousand 
 pounds, to be divided among a crew of simple 
 rovers ! When we first found this treasure, and 
 understood how much it was worth — namely, 
 allowing eight shares for the Captain, and 
 eighteen for the ofiicers, nearly two thousand 
 pounds apiece for every man, we were amazed 
 at our wonderfiil fortune, and looked at each 
 other like stuck pigs. However, we got the 
 boxes on board, and laid them safe in the 
 Captain's cabin, and set fire to the galleon, 
 which blazed furiously, and presently blew up, 
 and so an end of her„ And as for us, we sailed 
 away, and began to feast and to drink, and to 
 make merry. And for the first few hours, I 
 think there was never so happy a crew in the 
 world.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Jack, ' if prize-money were all
 
 152 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 they wanted. But to have no fighting with the 
 Spaniards — why, one would as heve take the 
 money out of a till.' 
 
 ' There was a great deal of fighting. I said 
 only that there was no fighting with the 
 Spaniard.' 
 
 ' What other fis^ht was there, then ? ' 
 'That evening we made a great feast on 
 deck, all the ship's company sitting down 
 together to as noble a salmagundy, onions 
 being still plentiful, as one would wish to see. 
 And with the salmagundy — which is sailor's 
 food, truly, yet I want no other as long as I 
 live, unless it be lobscouse and sea-pie — we 
 drank the finest wine, designed for His Excel- 
 lency the Governor-General of the Manilas, 
 that was ever drawn from cask. Such wine 
 one may never hope to taste again. What ? 
 Topers who drink strong black port and 
 Jamaica rum (which yet I love), what know 
 they of the soft and luscious drink which these 
 Papistical Spaniards enjoy daily, sitting in their 
 cool and shady houses, while the negroes and 
 the Indians work for them in the sun ? But
 
 TJiey stopfcd ojtiy to diiiil^ and ihcn/oi/^/it agahi.'
 
 VERY WELL THEN 153 
 
 when the drink got into us, the quarreUiug 
 began. When rovers quarrel, they fight. The 
 men were hglit-heacled, to begin with, thinking 
 of their great windfall ; and the Spanish wine 
 is heady when yon have taken much more than 
 a quart or two, and they very soon began to 
 quarrel over the division of the money. For 
 some wanted to tear up the articles, whereby 
 the Captain took eight shares and the officers 
 eighteen, and all to share-and-share alike. And 
 then swords were drawn and pistols cocked ; 
 and those of us who had kept reasonably sober 
 went hastily below. Among these were the 
 first and second mates, and the bo's'n, and 
 myself. But the Captain was mad with drink. 
 We kept below, while the trampling and the 
 fighting went on all night long, for they stopped 
 only to drink, and then fought again like so 
 many devils, not caring with whom they fought, 
 still less for what cause. The men were reso- 
 lute fellows, but they never showed half so 
 much courage against the enemy as they did 
 against each other ; and those who had been in 
 the morning the heartiest friends and brothers
 
 154 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 were at niglit murdering each other with the 
 utmost ferocity. 
 
 ' They stopped at last ; not because they 
 were appeased, but because they were tired ; 
 and all slept on deck, some lying across the 
 dead and wounded. It was a strange sight 
 when we ventured on deck, the work of fight- 
 ing being over, and saw them in the moonlight 
 all lying about among the cannon, mostly in the 
 waist, dead and living together, the blood still 
 running out of the scuppers. The man at the 
 helm was killed, and lying over his wheel. 
 There was no watch ; there were no lights ; all 
 sails were set, and the ship was swiftly sailing 
 over the smooth waters with no one to look 
 out, no lights in the bows, and no one to care 
 whether we struck on a rock or not. There 
 were thirty wounded men, whom we carried 
 below and dressed their wounds ; but fifteen of 
 them died, their blood being heated by the 
 wine and the salt provisions. 
 
 ' At sunrise most of the men woke up and 
 shook off their drunkenness, and ashamed they 
 were to find the Captain and twenty men killed
 
 VERY WELL THEN 155 
 
 by the night's quarreh First they sat and 
 looked at each other, sorry and angry. Then 
 they took consolation, thinking there were still 
 enough men to navigate the ship, and fight her, 
 if necessary, and then someone whispered that 
 there were fewer by twenty to share the trea- 
 sure. 
 
 ' So we threw the bodies overboard without 
 any funeral service, and I dressed the hurts of 
 those Avho were wounded, the men resolved to 
 quarrel no more, and all shook hands together. 
 
 ' I suppose the thought of the money filled 
 all the men's minds, because in the afternoon, 
 when the drinking began again, the quarrelling 
 began. The Captain being dead, they could 
 no longer quarrel over his eight shares ; but 
 the officers were left, and they began about 
 their shares. Now, I am sorry to say that both 
 mates, instead of running down below again 
 with the bo's'n and me, stayed on deck and 
 took part in the quarrel. That was a worse 
 night than the other, because it began earher. 
 Ten more were killed that night, and a great 
 many wounded. What was worse, the morn-
 
 156 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 iog brought no cessation, but they fought all 
 day long, and for three days and three nights, 
 drinking all the time like devils, as if they 
 desired that as many should be killed as pos- 
 sible, and as few left to divide the treasure. 
 In the end, when they desisted, we were re- 
 duced to sixty men, most of whom had wounds 
 of some kind, and some died afterwards of 
 fever, so that we numbered no more than lifty. 
 I suppose that such a thing hath never before 
 happened, that a ship for four days and four 
 nights should sail any course she pleased, being 
 without a steersman, or a captain, or a watch, 
 having all sails set, and yawing about as she 
 pleased, just as the breeze changed, and so 
 sailing all tlie time before the wind. It was 
 surely a miracle that we were not all cast away 
 and destroyed. At last, however, the men 
 grew tired and sobered, frightened by the 
 deaths of so many, and now awakened to the 
 new danger that if we met the S])aniard we 
 might not be able to light him nor to protect 
 our huge treasure. 
 
 ' So we held a serious council. First, we
 
 VERY WELL THEN 157 
 
 were now all ricli men, and it belioved us to 
 think of getting home safely with our money, 
 and to run no risks more than we could help, 
 and not to go in search of other shijDS, but to 
 keep out of the enemy's way. 
 
 ' Did one ever hear before of an English crew 
 keeping out of the Spaniard's way? But the 
 treasure made cowards of us all. Every man 
 valued his own skin because he was now the 
 owner of so much weahh. Why, what had been 
 before the iiG^hting; a share worth two thousand 
 was now worth four, at least. Not a man 
 among us but was worth four thousand pounds 
 and more. Even if we had sighted another 
 galleon I doubt wliether we should have ven- 
 tured to attack her. And the men grew moody 
 and scowling, everyone sitting apart, counting 
 his gains and wishing his shipmates dead, so that 
 his own share should be greater. Never was a 
 ship's crew fuller of murderous thoughts and 
 evil jealousies. Even the wounded men dying 
 of fever could not die quietly, but must shriek 
 and cry out for hfe, because they w^ere now all 
 made men.'
 
 158 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ' Better have tossed tlie treasure overboard,' 
 said Jack, 
 
 'As for our course, we had now sailed a 
 good bit to the south, but we knew not, and 
 we never knew where we were. Look at tlie 
 chart. Here is the island of Donna Maria 
 Laxara. We were driven north from that 
 island, and we presently sailed south, no man 
 regarding the navigation. The latitude I was 
 able to calculate ; but as for the longitude, that 
 was lost, and we knew not how to recover it, 
 there being no one on board except myself Avho 
 could so much as read. 
 
 ' After our council, however, we appointed 
 watches, and attended somewhat to the sailing, 
 keeping her course south, in hopes of fetching 
 Juan Fernandez or Masa Fuera. But, Lord ! we 
 were hundreds of miles to the west, though we 
 knew it not ; and as for Juan Fernandez, we 
 should none of us ever see that island again. 
 So we sailed day after day, but slowly, because 
 the winds were light. The sun now grew hot ; 
 we were within the Tropics. The men had some- 
 what recovered their spirits, and bragged what
 
 VER"^ WELL THEN 159 
 
 tliey would do when we got home, and how 
 they would flmg the money about. Some were 
 for Kingston, but some for Portsmouth ; and 
 I have always felt compassion for the ghis of 
 Point that they never had the spending of this 
 great haul. For my own part, I always knew 
 that something was going to happen, for surely 
 such a crew of murderers would never be suf- 
 fered to get safely to port with so much wealth. 
 ' The iirst thing that happened was that we 
 were becalmed. I know not where, but I think 
 somewhere hereabouts.' Mr. Brinjes pointed to 
 a spot near the middle of the Pacific, far from 
 any other track. ' We were becalmed so long 
 that we drank out all the Spaniard's wine, and 
 now had nothing to drink except water, and that 
 so long in the casks that it was, so to speak, 
 rusty. Also, we soon found that we had not a 
 great quantity of provisions left ; and that scurvy, 
 called the Lobillo, showed itself, of which we 
 lost two or three men. And now, if there was 
 no more fighting; there was no more sinc^inoj and 
 making merry. The men amused themselves 
 with gambling ; some of them played away all
 
 i66 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 their shares, but presently won them back, and 
 then lost them again ; or they passed the days, 
 which were tedious, in fishing for sharks — the sea 
 was full of them — sometimes they killed them for 
 food, but one soon gets tired of eating shark ; 
 sometimes they played with tliem, for they would 
 catch two, and put out the eyes of one, and tie 
 their tails together, and so drop them into the 
 sea, when it was pretty to see them pull different 
 ways, and fight and bite at each other just like 
 Christians. Or they would catch one and tie a 
 plank to his tail, so that he could not dive under 
 water or swim away without dragging tlie plank 
 with him, and so went mad, and lashed the water 
 in his rage. And strange things happened. 
 One day, while we were still becalmed, the 
 needle began to turn all ways, as if the witches 
 had got hold of it— the Jamaica Obeah men 
 knoAv that secret — and another day the sky 
 turned violet colour, with green clonds, ver}^ 
 terrifying, and in the night the sea was a blaze 
 of light, so that we were all alarmed, and one 
 youDg fellow went mad, and cried out that the 
 Day of Judgment was come, and called upon the
 
 VERY WELL THEN i6t 
 
 sea to liide him from the face of an offended 
 God, and so jmnped overboard and was 
 drowned. I think we mnst have been becalmed 
 for six weeks. At last, however, a breeze 
 sprung up from the nor'-west, and so we con- 
 tinued our course, if that can be called a 
 course which was sailing blindl}^, on an un- 
 known sea. 
 
 'Jack,' Mr. Brinjes cried, 'it will be thy 
 lot — wherefore I tell thee this history — to cruise 
 upon these waters, ^ot upon the course which 
 the Spaniards take, but west and south of their 
 route. Tliere wilt thou meet, as we did, with 
 strange and. beautiful islands filled v/ith kindly 
 people, who paddle in canoes and swim like 
 fishes, and hold all things in common, and live 
 naked. In those latitudes it is always summer 
 all the year round, with warm balmy air ; and 
 nobody heeds the time, and there are always 
 rich fruits to eat and delightful fish to catch. 
 They have no religion, and therefore are not 
 afraid ; they have no knowledge of the ten 
 commandments, and therefore know not the 
 nature of sin, and have no conscience to trouble 
 
 VOL. \, M
 
 1 62 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 them : tliey have learned nothing of any future 
 world, and therefore are not anxious ; they have 
 no property, and therefore know not envy ; they 
 have no diseases, except the incurable disease of 
 age ; althougli their lives are happy, they fear 
 not death, upon which they never think ; they 
 neither murder nor rob. What is our modern 
 civilisation, what is the politeness of the age, 
 compared with such happiness as theirs ? What 
 is there a man can hope for better than warmtii 
 and plenty, the love of women, and the friend - 
 ship of men, with constant health, sunshine and 
 joy? Do they murder each other? Do they 
 fight duels with each other ? Do they gamble 
 away their fortunes ? Do they steal and rob ? 
 Do they entice away another's wife ? Are they 
 clapped into prison for debt, and kept tliere 
 until they die ? Are they hanged for forging, 
 coining, and shop-lifting? Are they flogged at 
 the cart-wheel for anything they do ? Are tliey 
 made to work all day so that another man may 
 grow rich ? Are they teased with wars ? 
 Must they be starved so that priests may get fat ? 
 Do they go in misery and anxiety all their days
 
 VEI^V WELL THEN 163 
 
 for fear of the Bottomless Pit?' — Mr. Brinjes 
 enumerated many other things, which are not 
 the blessings of civilisation, yet exist among us, 
 and not among these savages. ' Why, for the 
 mere joy of living among this people, and 
 breathing their soft air, our men forgot even 
 their great treasure and their jealousies, and 
 became, as it were, foolish ; they quarrelled 
 no longer ; they rejoiced to go ashore and court 
 the friendship of these soft savages, and to give 
 them beads, knives, fish-hooks, or any little thing, 
 in return for which tJie people gave them every- 
 thing they had ; for a string of beads, or a piece 
 of bright-coloured silk they would bring out all 
 they possessed ; for a bottle of rum, they would, 
 I verily beUeve, have sold their island. Ah ! ' 
 Mr. Brinjes heaved a deep sigh. ' I have known 
 true happiness on the African coast ; but there 
 the air is hotter and men's passions are liercer 
 — well, I love the fierce passion and the tem- 
 perament which breaks suddenly into llanie ; 
 but I have never seen or heard, anywhere, of 
 any place where the folk are so gentle as in 
 these seas and life is so easy and so sweet. 
 
 M 2
 
 I64 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 Heaven keep tliem long from the accursed 
 Spaniard. 
 
 ' And as for wonders, I have seen strange 
 things, indeed, which men would not believe. 
 Boys, I do not lie ; I have seen bats as big as 
 rabbits, and terrible great serpents which hang 
 from tlie trees head downwards, and have 
 power by their breath — I know not how — by 
 their breath alone, to draw wild beasts — nay, 
 and man as well — towards them, and so to break 
 their bones and devour them ; calamaries, or 
 squids, are there with arms ninety feet long — 
 many have seen them, and avow the truth — 
 which can clutch a whole ship and dnng it 
 under water ; there are springs of water which 
 liave virtue to turn iish into stones ; there are 
 Hying cats and women fisli — yea, fish witli heads 
 and breasts like unto women, and tails like the 
 mermaids' ; there are shell fish big enough, 
 each one, to dine a boat's crew, and yet leave 
 meat to spare ; there are birds'-nests so big 
 that six men cannot span even one ; there are 
 beautiful lizards, of all colours, as big as calves. 
 Am I lying to you ? No, boys.. There was an
 
 VERY WELL THE A 165 
 
 island where we gathered a pannier of earth for 
 the cook's galley to lay under his fire. Would 
 you believe that, six months afterwards, we 
 found a bar of gold beneath it, melted out of 
 this little bucket-fall of earth ? But we could 
 never find that island again. As for the people, 
 the men mostly go naked or nearly naked, and 
 the women have a kind of petticoat made some- 
 times of feathers, and sometimes of skins, and 
 they have hair so long that it trails upon the 
 ground ; their language is a jargon that no one 
 can understand ; and if they worship anything, 
 which I doubt, they worship wooden images. 
 Tasman found some of these islands, but he 
 has never been where I have been. No living 
 man — the rest being dead — has been where I 
 have been. Tell me not of Captain Shelvocke ! 
 He only followed the Spaniard's track. 
 
 'We cruised about contentedly, leading a 
 Rfe like that of King Solomon himself, among 
 these islands, how long, I know not, for we 
 stayed sometimes for whole months off one 
 island. Perhaps it was fifty years, but I think 
 it was no more than two or three. There was
 
 l66 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 no more talk of the treasure. Some of our 
 crew died, some refused to leave the islands 
 even for their share of the treasure, and preferred 
 a black wife and a life of ease under a warm 
 sun with palm-wine and pandang (which is their 
 kind of food), to any more dangers upon the 
 water. So at length, out of our company of 
 a hundred and twenty there were but five-and- 
 twenty left, among whom to divide the great 
 sum of money. This would give ten thousand 
 pieces each. But by this time the ship, poor 
 thing, was fcdlen into disrepair, and most of our 
 stores were now expended, so that what with 
 rotten cordage, which would hardly hold a sail, 
 and a leak which she had sprung somewhere, 
 which gained daily, and planks now so soft that 
 you could put a knife into them as into a rotten 
 apple, and her bottom covered with green 
 weeds, like a ditch beside a hedgerow at home, 
 I for one doubted whether she would hold to- 
 gether at all if bad weather came. But in 
 these islands we never found any bad weather. 
 
 ' By this time all our clothes were worn out. 
 Stockings and shoes we had none, but no one
 
 VERY WELL THEN 167 
 
 wanted them. For coat and shirt and all, we 
 had the bales of silk which we found on the 
 galleon ; and let me tell you that, in a warm 
 climate, there is no wear like silk, being both 
 soft and cool. We had suffered our beards to 
 grow ; we had left off carrying arms, and no- 
 body quarrelled or fought. Our provisions were 
 long since gone, but w^e had palm-wine, such 
 as the islanders make, and pandang, and we 
 w^ere dexterous at fishing. If we left one island 
 and sailed to another, it was only for the sake 
 of change, for sailors are always a restless folk ; 
 and we thought of nothing but to continue the 
 joyful, easy and happy life that we w^ere lead- 
 ing. 
 
 ' It was I, there being no officers left, who 
 broke up this contentment, and called the men 
 together to speak seriously. I pointed out to 
 them very earnestly that we must resolve, and 
 that immediately, whether we would settle 
 upon some friendly island and break up the old 
 ship, or whether we would without more delay 
 attempt the voyage home. I told them that 
 we were all rich men, and coidd take our ease
 
 i68 . THE WORLD WENT 
 
 for life, if only we succeeded in getting home ; 
 but that we had a leaky and crazy ship, with 
 rotten cordage, worm-eaten planks, and foul 
 bottom, and that we must first put her in some 
 kind of repair before we couJd think of get- 
 ting round Cape Horn, and if we did not 
 speedily attempt these repairs the poor old 
 barky would founder beneath us. The men 
 lazily replied they cared nothing whether the 
 ship fell to pieces or no, and were content to 
 live for ever upon one of these islands among 
 the blacks, of whose soft manner of life they 
 were enamoured, and wanted no more fighting 
 or tempests. Such softness stealetli over the 
 souls of all who dwell iu these latitudes. This 
 is the reason why the Creolian Spaniard — he of 
 Mexico, Cuba, or Acapulco — is so poor a crea- 
 ture as compared with the Englishman, for the 
 heat and softness of the air have sapped his 
 courao^e, and made him a coward. One or two 
 among us, however, having still something left 
 of courage, and some recollection of home, per- 
 suaded them to consent that we should, when 
 we could find a convenient place, endeavour to
 
 VERY WELL THEN 169 
 
 Leel the ship over and scrape her, stop the leak 
 if we could, and make her shipshape for rougher 
 weather. 
 
 ' A few days afterwards, we came to a small 
 archipelago, or collection of small islands. They 
 were not the coral islands, which lie low, and 
 are surrounded by a reef of coral, but were alj 
 hke hill-tops, rising sheer and steep out of 
 the water, green and wooded to the top, and 
 apparently uninhabited. In one of these we 
 found a curious natural dock or basin, deep and 
 narrow, for all the world like the Greenland 
 Dock at EedrifF, and as suitable for our pur- 
 pose as if we had made it ourselves. Here we 
 resolved to make our dockyard, and to begin 
 by heeling over the ship to get at her bottom. 
 Wherefore, in case of accident, it was first 
 agreed that we should put the treasure ashore 
 in the only boat we possessed, the great storm 
 having stove in the others. We lowered the 
 boxes, and put in the boat five men, of whom 
 I was one, with intent to row ashore, lay the 
 gold in some safe place, and then return to 
 tow tlie ship into this creek, or rocky natural
 
 I70 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 dock. So we put off, thinking no danger, and 
 rowed to land. 
 
 ' Now, mark what happened. The ship was 
 lying, when we left her, in smooth water, all 
 sails furled. There was no wind, not a breath 
 of air ; if we had dropped our kedge, which we 
 could not, because there was no bottom, the 
 ship would have ridden anchor apeak. The 
 time of day was afternoon, when air and water 
 are at their stillest ; and she was in a kind of 
 channel or narrow sea, with these islands all 
 around, which I should say were quite desolate 
 and uninhabited, yet full of trees and fruits, with 
 plenty of fresh water. We had no more than 
 the length of a furlong to row, the water being 
 deep and the shore of our island shelving steep 
 down into the sea. We landed, hauled up the 
 boat for fear of accident, and began to carry 
 ashore the boxes, in order to lay them together 
 under the trees. You think, perhaps, that a 
 treasure of two hundred and fifty thousand 
 pieces- of-cight is a mighty great matter. So it 
 is, yet they may all be stowed in a few small 
 boxes. We laid them down, then, and left
 
 VERY WELL THEN 171 
 
 them (no one being on the iskind except our- 
 selves) at the foot of a pahn. 
 
 ' And there, my lads,' Mr. Brinjes added 
 slowly, ' there they are to this dav. For sure 
 and certain I am that no ship hath been among 
 these islands since. And I know that I could 
 find the place again.' 
 
 ' Why did you leave the treasure there ? ' 
 ' You shall liear. When we got down to 
 the shore a^ain, a strano-c thing; — nav, a miracle 
 — had happened. The ship, which we left, as 
 I said, only a furious^ from the land, was now 
 — as near as we could guess — two miles. She 
 had none of her canvas spread ; there was no 
 breeze to speak of, and yet she was slipping 
 tlu'oiigh the water away from us at six knots 
 an hour, as near as we could cuess. Wonder- 
 fill it was to see a ship, without wind or sails, 
 moving so fast. Whether it was witchcraft — 
 which I sometimes think — or a strong current, 
 which may have been the cause, I cannot tell ; 
 but our ship had slipped away, and left us 
 behmd. We rowed after her; but a little 
 boat, with one pair of oars, cannot overtake
 
 172 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 a vessel going six knots an hour, with two 
 miles and more between. Then we thought 
 to make the crew put the ship about, if tliey 
 could. We shouted and made signals ; but, so 
 far as we could discern, no one on board 
 noticed. Perhaps the men w^ere all bewitched, 
 as, I think, must have happened ; perhaps they 
 were drinking or sleeping, because in those 
 days they generally spent the time in sleep, 
 whenever they were not drinking or fishing. 
 She seemed to move faster and faster, and the 
 evening w^as coming on. The sun got low ; 
 w^e had only time to row ashore before tlie 
 darkness w^as upon us ; and the last we saw of 
 the poor old ship was the sight of her spars 
 with the sinking sun behind them, and the red 
 sky above, and the water spread out before us 
 like a sheet of copper. 
 
 'What became of that ship and her com- 
 pany, I know not. But I doubt not that the 
 craft is broken up, and the crew are all dead 
 long ago. For either she struck a reef and 
 Avas wrecked, and the crew drowned, having 
 no boat ; or — which may very well have hap-
 
 VERY WELL THEN 173 
 
 penecl — the leak grew upon her, and she made 
 so much water that she foundered ; or they 
 may have made a raft and hmded on some 
 island, where they lived, and, in due course, 
 died of too much palm- wine. And this was 
 tlie best that could happen to them. 
 
 'As for us five men who were left upon 
 tlie island, we hoped at first that the ship 
 would come back for us, but she did not ; then 
 we made up our minds to stay there, and we 
 built a kind of house, and made ourselves easy, 
 and fished, and made pandang. Ko man need 
 starve upon these islands. But, after a while, 
 we grew th^ed of the life, and so resolved to 
 attempt escape. So we buried the treasure at 
 the foot of the palm where we had first laid 
 it, and on the trunk we cut a mark ; then Ave 
 rigged a sail of palm leaves, caulked the boat 
 with cocoa-fibre, took some water and such 
 provisions as we could lay up in store, and so 
 left our island and sailed eastward. We were still 
 among islands, and we sailed among them for 
 many weeks — I know not how long. For still, 
 wlien we were out of sight of one island, we
 
 174 
 
 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 would sight another and yet another, but not 
 all friendly, nor all so soft and affectionate as 
 
 
 those we had left behind ns. So we crept on, 
 from shore to shore and from cape to cape.
 
 VERY WELL THEN 175 
 
 until at last we readied the open sea, and no 
 land in sight at all, and presently no pro- 
 visions.' 
 
 ' And what happened then ? ' 
 
 ' My lads,' said Mr. Brinjes, ' it is a terrible 
 thing to be at sea with no provisions either to 
 eat or to drink. Those who have water may 
 go on for a long time ; though I have been 
 told that the body presently swells up and 
 grows restless, and one must move about — 
 which, in a small boat, is difficult. But to 
 have neither food nor water ! Then the men's 
 eyes grow fierce and eager : horrible gnawing 
 pains tear them to pieces. All day long they 
 gaze upon the water for a sail, though they 
 know, as we knew, that there can be no sail in 
 those parts. At night, they sleep not ; but 
 groan and wish it Avere day. Then the pains 
 increase, and one would willingly die but for 
 the agony of death : and then the men cease 
 looking upon the ocean, but look in each 
 other's faces — none daring to say what is in 
 every man's mind.' 
 
 Here he was silent for awhile.
 
 176 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ' All this time we had a steady gentle breeze, 
 so that we sailed easily over smooth water, and 
 all the time we were followed by a shark, which 
 never left us, and w^as a certain prognostication 
 of death — which we knew and understood. My 
 lads, when that boat was picked up — which was 
 by a Spanish brig, sailing for the port of Aca- 
 pulco — there was but one man left. All the 
 rest had parted their cable, and the shark had 
 eaten them — that is, some parts of them. The 
 survivor hath never told anyone how he kept 
 himself alive. Perhaps he was able to catch a 
 few fish ; perhaps he caught a wild bird ; per- 
 haps it rained, and he caught the water as it 
 fell. If ever you do pray for yourself, Jack — 
 but it is best to take your own luck and to 
 pray for others — pray that you be never con- 
 demned to sail in an open boat without pro- 
 visions.' I have read, in some book of ship- 
 wrecks, that sailors have been known, in the 
 extremity of their hunger, to kill each other for 
 food. Did Mr. Brinjes and his boat's crew 
 resort to this dreadful method ? 
 
 ' As for the treasure,' he concluded,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 177 
 
 solemnly, ' I liave Ijcqueathed it. Jack, to thee 
 and to Bess Westmoreland, here, in equal parts. 
 We will sail together, some day, and dig it up. 
 I am old ; but I shall not die until I have seen 
 those seas again. We will go together. Jack, 
 and thou shalt be rich. But even now thou 
 art going thither, happy lad ! When thy ship 
 comes home, we will get a brig, somehow, and 
 sail away together — Captain Easterbrook in 
 command — -and steer for tliose islands. I know 
 not their longitude, but as to latitude, I am 
 very sure they are about the parallel of 20° S. 
 Oh ! I shall find that archipelago. I cannot 
 die until I have breathed those airs again and 
 found the treasure ! Jack, thou art heir to a 
 greater estate than any man in England can 
 boast. There is no Earl or Duke who shall 
 hold up his head beside thee. Thou shalt be a 
 Prince, and Bess shall be a Princess.' 
 
 He rolled up his chart, and returned to his 
 chair and his pillows, sinking into them with 
 the exhausted air which made one perceive 
 that he was already arrived at extreme old 
 a^e. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ' Forty years ago ! ' he groaned. ' Where 
 are they gone, those forty years which have 
 taken away my strength ? They made me a 
 slave in Acapulco — a slave to a Creolian 
 Spanish devil, who daily flogged and kicked 
 me. Jack,' he sat npright, and his eye flashed 
 fire, ' when we have recovered the treasure we 
 w^ll burn the town of Acapulco, and roast alive 
 every Spaniard in it. Oh, that I could have 
 then got back to the island ! But that I could 
 not ; and very soon I perceived that I must 
 somehow escape, unless I was to be a slave for 
 life, worse than a negro slave, and made to 
 change my religion or burn. This, though I 
 had lived among the islands like a Pagan, I was 
 unwilling to do. I therefore ran away, and 
 committed myself to the Indians, by wliom I 
 w^as taken across the Isthmus of Panama, 
 where I lived in the woods among my friends 
 the savages for two years and more, before I 
 could find an English ship among those which 
 came trading for mahogany to the coast of 
 Yucatan which would take me off. So that of 
 all that long journey I brought back to Jamaica
 
 VERY WELL THEN 179 
 
 with ine but one thing — ray bkie stone for the 
 cure of snake bites.' He pulled it out of his 
 pocket. 'When you are bitten by any of the 
 reptiles and insects of the forest, even by the 
 most venomous, you may apply this stone (I 
 have tried it on myself after a deadly snake- 
 bite), which sticks on the place, and doth not 
 fall off till it hath sucked up all the poison' 
 when it drops of its own weight, and must be 
 put into milk before you can use it again. 
 Forty years ago I When I was young and could 
 enjoy ! Life mocks us, J^ck. Sometimes I 
 think that we are the sport and the laughter of 
 the gods ; but we know nothing. It flies before 
 you have more than tasted of its joys. Give 
 me fifty years more — only fifty years — and set 
 me on the African coast among the Coro- 
 mantyns, and I will find the secret which their 
 wise wom.en know. It is in the African forests 
 that the herb grows which can cure all disease, 
 even the disease of old age. With my treasure 
 I could buy it, or find it, or compel them to 
 yield it up. Happy boy ! happy boy ! Go 
 breathe those airs of heaven, and gaze upon 
 
 N 2
 
 I So THE WORLD WENT 
 
 tliose purple islands! If thou ligljtest upon 
 an archipelago somewhere in latitude 20° S., 
 where the islands are like hilltops covered with 
 wood, search for one which has on its north 
 side a creek like a natural dock, then look for 
 a palm-tree marked with a cross, and dig 
 beneath it for a treasure. But if thou dost not 
 find that island, then when thy ship comes 
 home we will go together and seek for it, and 
 find the treasure — thine inheritance ! '
 
 VERY WELL THEN 
 
 iSi 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE ' COUXTESS OF DORSET SAILS. 
 
 ALWAYS knew,' said Jack, 
 ' that Mr. Brinjes had been 
 II a pirate. I believe he was
 
 1 82 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 surgeon to Bartholomew Koberts, who was 
 killed by Captain Sir Ogle Chaloner in the 
 ' Swallow.' Wherefore he ought, if he had his 
 deserts, to be now hanging in chains with his 
 brother pirates on the Cape Coast. Fifty of 
 them there are dangling in a row. Now we 
 know that he is a cannibal as well, because 
 it is certain he must have eaten up the other 
 four men in the boat. I wonder how the 
 last two determined the matter. And we 
 know that he is the possessor of a great for- 
 tune buried under a palm-tree, on an undis- 
 covered island in the South Seas. It is as 
 useful to him as a bag of diamonds in the 
 moon.' 
 
 ' But he says that he shall sail with you in 
 search of it.' 
 
 ' Likely, likely,' said Jack. ' Who knows 
 what may happen? He is, I take it, now a 
 hundred years old. He keeps himself alive by 
 his craft. If he was going to die I suppose 
 he would begin to repent. As for his treasure, 
 what do I care for his pieces-of-eight, unless 
 it were to buy a frigate and man her with a
 
 VERY WELL THEN \Z^ 
 
 gallant crew, and go fighting the Spaniards and 
 the French ? ' 
 
 They were prophetic words, but this we 
 knew not. Yet you shall hear. 
 
 Then the ' Countess of Dorset ' sailed away 
 with Jack as one of her midshipmen, upon her 
 long and perilous voyage. She was under 
 orders to sail by way of the Cape of Good 
 Hope, and to survey the coast of that vast 
 unknown continent or island called in part 
 New Holland and in another New Guinea. 
 This accomplished, as far as might be possible, 
 her captain was instructed to cross the ocean 
 and explore that other great island called New 
 Zealand. She was to search after and report 
 upon places which might be of advantage to 
 the British flag. After this she was to continue 
 her voyage of discovery even into the antarctic 
 fields of ice ; to penetrate as near to the South 
 Pole as possible, and she was to return by 
 doubling Cape Horn. So that, had she come 
 home in safety, her crew would have circum- 
 navigated the globe. 
 
 It would seem, I venture to think, consis-
 
 1 84 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 tent witli the dignit}^ as well as with the 
 interest of a great maritime people, such as the 
 English, were such voyages as this always afoot, 
 so that, wlien one exploring ship returned, 
 another might be despatched ; undertaken not 
 only for the discovery of unknown continents 
 and islands, but also for the enlarg-ement of 
 commerce and the enrichino; of this realm. In 
 the old days the world was nothing but the 
 Mediterranean with the lands lying around that 
 great sea. Man has extended it east and west, 
 north and south, so that we can now boast that 
 we know all the islands of the Atlantic and the 
 Indian Ocean — navigators say that in those seas 
 there remains no more to be found — with the 
 countries of Asia (even China and Japan have 
 been described and exactly mapped by t1ie 
 Koman Catholic missionaries). We know the 
 eastern coast of North and South America from 
 Labrador to Cape Horn, and we are able to lay 
 down the harbours and river mouths of Africa, 
 though of its interior little lias yet been visited. 
 There will perhaps come a time, if the 
 English take the matter in hand without fear of
 
 VERY WELL THEN 185 
 
 Spain, ^vlicn the whole world shall be fully 
 explored, so that there will be nothing left to 
 discover, neither strange races nor strange 
 creatures, nor wonderful plants. My father, 
 who had in his library a copy of the great 
 ' Mappa Mundi,' or Atlas of tlie late learned 
 Mr. Senex, woidd often converse seriously on 
 the possibility of finding, in some hitherto un- 
 explored part of the world, the long-lost Ten 
 Tribes, still, he would fondly imagine, practising 
 the Levitical Law in its Mosaic integrity, witli- 
 out adding; to it or subtracting; from it, and in 
 icrnorance of the flosses introduced by Rabbi- 
 nical and Talmudic doctors. He looked to find 
 this people in vast numbers (in conformity with 
 Prophecy) somewhere betv/een the springs of 
 Tigris and Euphrates, or, perhaps, more to the 
 north, and even on the slopes and among the 
 valleys of the mountains called Caucasus ; but, 
 he Avould confess, without crediting the idle 
 legend of the Sambatyon river, Avliich seems 
 a monstrous story, they may have wandered 
 farther afield, and perhaps are now on some 
 remote island of the Black Sea, the Eed Sea,
 
 1 86 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 or even the Indian Ocean. ' The recovery of 
 these tribes,' he said, ' would be a great conso- 
 lation to pious persons, and would doubtless 
 prove a mighty weapon in the hands of the 
 faithful ; or, apart from the Israelites, though 
 this people must be ever foremost in our 
 thoughts, it may very well be that there exist 
 in some remote coimtries, which have had no 
 intercourse with the outer world for many 
 centuries, some people who were once a branch 
 of the Eoman Empire, and have never heard of 
 its decline and fall, who knew nothing of Christ 
 or Mohammed, or of the Hindoo superstitions, 
 but still worship after the manner of the Greeks 
 and Eomans. ' Twould be strange, indeed, to 
 witness the rites of Jove and Venus ; those of 
 the great Sun god ; of Ceres, the goddess of 
 fertility ; of Bacchus, the god of joy and wine ; 
 and of Pan, of whose deatli these people 
 perhaps know not : or it would be strange to 
 see them flocking to consult tlie oracles : and 
 one would willingly, if it were allowed to a 
 Christian, be initiated into the mysteries of 
 Eleusis, long since lost, though some have pre-
 
 VERY WELL THEN 187 
 
 tended that they are concealed in the Sixth 
 Book of Virgil's " ^neid," and some still look 
 for them in Apuleius' " Golden Ass." Again, 
 there must be somewhere on earth the wander- 
 ing Jew, named Cartaphilus, Ahasuerus, or, 
 according to others, Isaac Laquedem, who is 
 credibly reported to have been last seen, and 
 that not so very long ago, in Paris. To sit 
 down and talk with him, if his memory is still 
 good, would be like finding a Fifth Gospel. 
 Or there may be in the interior of that great 
 southern continent which they call New 
 Holland great and powerful nations, with 
 another civilisation than our own, and arts of 
 which we know nothiug. We have, it is true, 
 invented gunpowder, the use of which, to rude 
 people, appears a kind of magic ; and we have 
 contrived by our wit many ingenious mechan- 
 ical devices. But there are, surely, many other 
 secrets which man can compel Nature to 
 surrender ; and there may be tribes which 
 possess these secrets — as, for example, if one 
 may so speak without blasphemy, the command 
 and control of hghtningr, which now strikes
 
 1 88 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 here and there at random, as we say, if any- 
 tiling in this world is suffered to be at random ; 
 and the mastery over the other elements of the 
 earth — the wind, the storm, the ice, the snow, 
 Avhich now only obey the word and will of the 
 Lord. Or there may have been discovered in 
 these countries — who knows ? — a universal 
 medicine for all diseases ; for, since death is the 
 necessary result of decay or disease, when it is 
 not accident, there may be races who have dis- 
 covered some herb or simple by virtue of which 
 natural decay may be prevented, and so man 
 may continue to live as \ow^ as he please ; 
 which, for the devout Christian, who looks 
 forward to his eternal rest, w^ould not be long. 
 Or there may even be found offshoots or colonies 
 of such ancient races as the Phoenicians, of 
 which stock came the Carthaginians ; and so we 
 may, perhaps, at length learn by what accident 
 this branch of the Semitic race — a most civilised 
 and cultivated branch — hath left no literature 
 at all, either of poetry or history ; or of the 
 Ethiopians, called by Homer, for some reason 
 unknown to us, blameless. They were expelled
 
 VERY WELL THEN 1S9 
 
 from Egypt by the people whose clesceiidaDts 
 are now called Copts. Without doubt, they 
 w^ere an interesting people, and remarkable for 
 their primitive virtue, which may have survived. 
 I would look for them on the western shores 
 of the Eed Sea. Or somewhere in the world, 
 perhaps in the Pacific Isles, or in the unknown 
 heart of Africa, or the great continent of the 
 Southern Seas, there may be races of giants, 
 dwarfs, and amazons, for tliere must certainly 
 be some foundation for the stories of such 
 people. There is also the far-famed kingdom 
 of Prester John, which some will have to be the 
 Empire of Abyssinia, whose King and people 
 are known to form a brancli of the Christian 
 Church. They boast themselves to be descended 
 from Prince Menelek, son of King Solomon and 
 the Queen of Sheba, wdiich may possibly be the 
 case, although Holy Writ affords no warrant 
 for the belief One wx)uld be pleased to learn 
 also, if the many strange stories narrated by 
 the Venetian traveller, Marco Polo, be true, or 
 whether he hath repeated things which were 
 merely related to him, as is done by Herodotus.
 
 I90 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 And again, there is the journey of Mandeville, m 
 which are described men with but one leg, and 
 hippotains, or creatures half horse, half man ; 
 so that there may be truth in the legends of 
 Centaurs, though some have thought them to 
 have been merely a people loving horses and 
 addicted to riding. 
 
 ' Then to descend to creatures : there are 
 existing somewhere, perhaps, whether in the 
 hot and burning forests of South America, 
 through which the great river Oroonoko 
 flows, or in the African deserts, creatures like 
 the winged dragons of which so many stories 
 have been told, with salamanders and other 
 monsters ; and in the sea, hideous monsters 
 with bodies many fathoms long, the vast mass 
 floating like an island on the ocean : and great 
 calamaries, of which sailors have reported some 
 with long arms capable of seizing and dragging 
 down to the bottom of the sea, ship, cargo, 
 crew, and all.' 
 
 Thus my father would discourse at length ; 
 but Jack hath assured us that in this terrible 
 voyage of his, they encountered nothing bigger
 
 VERY WELL THEN 191 
 
 than a whale or more terrible than a shark ; nor 
 any winged dragon, or serpent more dreadful 
 than the kinds already known ; while as for Ten 
 Tribes, or for any men who know more than 
 the Europeans, or have acquired a form of 
 civilisation worthy our attention, he does not 
 believe that there nre any such. 
 
 We looked not for any news of the 
 'Countess of Dorset' for three years at least; 
 because, on the voyage on which she was 
 bound, there are no friendly ports where a 
 vessel may receive or send home despatches, 
 though, doubtless, manv where fruit and water 
 may be obtained. We did not expect, there- 
 fore, to hear any tidings of her until she should 
 return. It was not until fully three years had 
 passed away that we first began to ask ourselves 
 when the ship might be expected to return. 
 
 But no news came of the ship, and no 
 letters from tliose aboard her. The fourth 
 year passed, and still there came no news ; and 
 so the fifth, and still no news. 
 
 Then those who remembered Jack Easter- 
 brook, and loved him, began to misdoubt that
 
 192 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 something had happened to the ship ; and, 
 when the sixth year had ahnost gone Avithout 
 a word, there were few who kept up heart, or 
 had any hope in them. As for the Admiral, he 
 mourned for Jack as for his own son, beheving 
 that he must have been cast away with all the 
 ship's company. 'For,' he said, 'had they not 
 all miserably perished, some intelligence would, 
 ere now, have reached us. At the Navy Office 
 they have written off the ship as wrecked, and 
 the officers and crew as dead men, and the 
 clerks have told the Avomen who came to ask 
 after their husbands that they may e'en look 
 after fresh husbands ; though this i proves 
 nothing. And, though ships have been known 
 to be delayed and forced back by continual and 
 contrary winds, or caught by storms and losing 
 their masts, yet did I never hear of a ship 
 overdue for three years, and then arriving safe. 
 Lon«[ ao'o the underwriters, had she been a 
 merchant-vessel, would have paid off the 
 insurances. No, gentlemen, there is no hope. 
 Our boy is drowned ! ' 
 
 ' We were wrecked upon the island of Juan
 
 VERY WELL THEN 193 
 
 Fernandez,' said Mr. Shelvocke, ' where we 
 lived, in great misery, on eels, the entrails of 
 seals, and such like for many months ; and should 
 still be living there but for the armourer and 
 carpenter, who built for us a craft, thirty feet 
 long, in which we embarked, having no other 
 provision than conger- eel, cut into strips, each 
 strip dipped into the sea and dried in the sun. 
 A more loathsome food 'twere difficult to find. 
 Yet we escaped, taking the Spanish ship ^' The 
 Santo Jesu," and so came safe home again.' 
 
 ' Then,' said the Admiral, to whom this 
 story was not new, ' the boy may still live, or, 
 at best, he may linger on some island among 
 the savages, living on shell- fish and the like ; 
 and so is as good as dead, since we shall never 
 see him more — poor lad ! poor lad ! a braver 
 boy never stepped.' 
 
 ' With submission. Admiral,' said Mr. 
 Brinjes. ' That something must have befallen 
 the ship I do not doubt. It is a sea full of 
 coral reefs, sunken rocks, strange currents, and, 
 in the northern and southern parts, there are, 
 it is certain, sudden storms. We cannot guess 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 v/hat has happened ; still, I am sure that the 
 boy will come back to us. Ask your old 
 negress, Admiral, who is a witch ; ask Phil- 
 adelphy if that boy's eyes when he sailed away 
 were the eyes of one who is going to his death. 
 She can read the eyes of men — ay, and has 
 often read for me, sitting in my shop, in the 
 eyes of those going forth to sea whether they 
 will come back or no — and never once has 
 she proved wrong. Now, Admiral, I have ex- 
 amined the chart over and over again ; but can 
 get no comfort from it, nor any clue to what 
 may have happened. An ocean where there 
 are no ports, and where there is but one vessel 
 sailing across it, hke the South Pacific, where 
 the " Countess of Dorset " sailed upon — those 
 waters can give no help. But that boy. 
 Admiral, has not been drowned. And he will 
 return to us. His fortune is long and stormy, 
 as Philadelphy, at my request, hath proved in 
 many ways ; by the bowl, by the cards, by the 
 mirror, and by the glass ball. I have also had 
 his nativity calculated, and I learn the same 
 story. And, by what small arts and knowledge
 
 VERY WELL THEN 195 
 
 I possess, I licive learned that his life will not 
 be cut off untimely. What, gentlemen ? Do 
 the stars lie ? Is there no truth in the magic 
 of tlie Mandimxo woman ? ' 
 
 It is a consolation to know that a happy 
 end to anxiety is certain, even by witchcraft. 
 Yet Jack did not return, and no news concern- 
 ing his ship. 
 
 Many of the crew were Deptford men — 
 volunteers after the peace. Their wives, or 
 widows, on the advice of the clerks in the 
 Navy Office — who were now without hope con- 
 cerning the ship — married again. This, how- 
 ever, is common among seafaring folk, and the 
 worst that happens, should the husband come 
 home again, is generally no more than a fight 
 and a cracked skull, with forgiveness over a 
 bowl. Nay, there have been known cases in 
 which the true husband has contentedly re- 
 nounced his wife, and either married anotlier 
 woman or gone away to sea again ; perhaps to 
 seek out a new wife in some other port. 
 
 These six years, as you may suppose, were 
 not spent at home without changes. The elders 
 
 2
 
 196 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 seem to stand still and suffer no change dnring 
 six years, imless it is that their locks, if they 
 had any to show, would grow grey ; but in 
 these days of wigs and shaven cheek there is 
 nothing (happily) to mark the approach of age, 
 save trembling limb and crowsfeet round the eyes, 
 which cannot be concealed. As for me, I was 
 fourteen, or thereabouts, when the ' Countess of 
 Dorset ' sailed away ; and therefore, after six 
 years, I was twenty, and a man grown, though 
 not to the robust stature promised by Jack 
 when he left us. Castilla was now past seven- 
 teen, and, in my eyes, more beautiful, as they 
 say, than the flowers in May. Nothing sur- 
 prised me more when Jack returned (for I 
 promise you that the black witch was right, 
 and Jack did return) than his coldness towards 
 this nymph. If a hue complexion, eyes of 
 heavenly blue, melting lips, rosy cheeks and 
 smiling mouth, with light hair curhng naturally 
 about her forehead, and a figure slight and tall: 
 in short, if Hebe herself — who was the goddess 
 of youthful and virginal beauty, as Yenus is the 
 goddess of that riper beauty which is no longer
 
 VERY WELL THEN 197 
 
 ignorant of love — was lovely, then was Castilla 
 lovely at that time, and as sweet, gracious, and 
 obliging as ever was Hebe, the cup-bearer to the 
 gods. Why, when Jack came home, I looked 
 to see him fall at her feet at the mere contem- 
 plation of so much beauty. But no ; he was 
 stark insensible. Castilla moved him not ; and 
 this for a reason that you shall shortly learn. 
 
 It was during this six years, to speak for a 
 moment of myself, that I passed through the 
 greatest trouble of my life, and touched the 
 highest happiness that I could hope or pray for. 
 My father had, as he thought, set me apart for 
 God's sacred ministry, as Samuel was set apart, 
 from childhood. He had taus^ht me from the 
 first to consider tliis the holiest vocation for 
 man, as, doubtless, it must bo confessed by all ; 
 and he had taught me as nuicli Latin and Greek, 
 with the composition of Latin verses, as I was 
 permitted by my natural parts, which are not 
 great, to acquire. And while he perceived very 
 well that it was not in my power to become a 
 great scholar like himself, he comforted and en- 
 couraged me by the consideration that piety and
 
 198 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 virtue are witliin the power of every Christian 
 man, together with- the other qualities which 
 adorn the sacred profession of priest or minister. 
 
 When I grew to the age of sixteen or 
 tliereabouts, the time at which a boy generally 
 begins to bethink himself of the future, I 
 found, first, that I could not look forward to 
 the cassock without a feeling of repugnance ; 
 and, secondly, that there was no other manner 
 of Avork in which I took any interest, save one, 
 which for a while was not to be thoug;ht of. 
 Indeed, I did not myself consider it possible, 
 though I knew very well that there were some 
 — nay, a good number — who live creditably 
 by exercising the art of painting, which was 
 the only thing I loved. 
 
 By this time I v/as arrived, by continual 
 daily practice, and by some natural aptitude, 
 at a certain proficiency, so that my drawings of 
 ships and boats and the like were, if one may 
 say so, creditable and fit to be shown to any 
 judge of such matters. But when I ventured 
 to hint, in my father's hearing, that a life spent 
 in this occupation, which he considered fri-
 
 VEJ^V WELL THEN 199 
 
 volous, miiyht be full of clelidit to one who 
 loved drawing, the thing was received with so 
 mnch displeasure that I dared not for some 
 time to open the subject again, but went on, 
 under his directions, making bad Latin verses 
 and reading Cicero and Virgil. 
 
 I then began to consider my destined pro- 
 fession with such a distaste as amounted to 
 abhorrence, insomuch that, had I persisted in 
 taking those vows which my father intended 
 and designed for me, I should have committed 
 a most deadly sin, if not the sin wdiich is un- 
 pardonable. And yet I ventured not to open 
 my conscience to my father, fearing his dis- 
 pleasure, and knowing very w^ell how much he 
 had set his heart upon my following in his 
 footsteps. I was at length encouraged to do 
 so, however, partly because it smote my soul 
 wdth contrition to go on pretending acquiescence 
 in my father's Avishes, and partly by a thing 
 which made my project appear more likely of 
 success, or, at least, less likely to end in dis- 
 astrous failure. 
 
 There was a certain John Brookiiio- of
 
 200 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 Deptford, now very well known to painters, 
 and to such fame as belongs to modern painters. 
 He was about ten years older than myself, and 
 at first was but a shipwright's assistant in the 
 Yard ; but had no heart for his work, and 
 wasted his time in drawing the workshops, the 
 docks, the timbers, bulkheads, anchors — every- 
 thing that there is to be drawn in the Yard, 
 even giving up to his Art the whole of his 
 Sundays. He was a good-natured, harmless 
 kind of man, who cared little for himself, and 
 had no ambition except to paint all day, to earn 
 enough for his daily wants, and to spend the 
 evenings drinking with his friends. He pre- 
 sently left the Yard, and went away to London, 
 designing to sell his drawings. But, before he 
 went, he gave me great help in teaching me, 
 so far as he himself knew them, the elements 
 of perspective, with certain simple rules of 
 geometry, and the arrangement of lights ; and 
 showed me how to lay on water-colours, and 
 how to get the proper tints, and how to pro- 
 duce the effects I desired. I know not how he 
 lived for a while ; but, one day, I m.et him in
 
 VERY WELL THEN 201 
 
 the streets of Deptford, and lie told me, with 
 glee, that he had found a man — a dealer in pic- 
 tures — in Leicester Fields, who would buy his 
 drawings of ships, as many as he chose to paint 
 at a guinea a-piece (N.B. — He afterwards found 
 that this honest dealer sold the same pictures 
 for ten guineas a-piece), and that therefore he 
 was now a made man, and had nothing to do 
 but to go on with the work he loved, and 
 paint every day. Which he did, until he died 
 of a consumption, brought on, I suspect, by 
 much strong drink. However, I w^ent to 
 London and visited him one day at his lodging. 
 He had a single room at the top of a house in 
 a court close to the Fields, where his friend the 
 dealer had his shop ; it was a good- sized room 
 with a lar^e window lookinsi; north, which is 
 tlie best direction for light. This was his paint- 
 ing-room and his living room, bedroom and 
 kitchen — all in one. Never was a room 
 so littered and untidy and dirty. But John 
 Brooking cared nothing for dirt. He worked 
 there all day long, so long as the light lasted ; 
 or he made sketches and studies by the river-
 
 202 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 side, which he afterwards made into finished 
 pictures in this simple studio, where lie stood 
 at his easel, never tired, a knitted night- cap 
 on his head, and in his shirt-sleeves, and a to- 
 bacco-pipe, broken sliort off, between his hps, 
 for he loved tobacco as much as any old gipsy 
 woman. 
 
 Well, his success, such as it was (but indeed 
 I thought of nothing, then, except how just to 
 live by my work so only that I could do the 
 work I desired to do), inflamed me, and I re- 
 solved to tell all to my father ; which, to make 
 a long story short, I did, though with many 
 misgivings. 
 
 He is dead now ; and, I doubt not, hath 
 gone to the rest provided for the faithful. It is 
 a place where my love and gratitude may not 
 reach him. I have never passed so unhappy 
 a time as that when it seemed as if I must con- 
 tinue my preparation for the University, in order 
 to perjure my soul by declaring falsely that I 
 was singled out by Heaven to follow the holy 
 calhng of a minister ; and I have never felt so 
 truly happy as on that day when my father,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 203 
 
 with tears in his eyes, bade me vex my soul no 
 longer, for it should be with me as I wished. 
 
 So I left Deptford, and went to liOndon, to 
 become a pupil of the celebrated Mr. Hay man ; 
 and I hope that I have since done justice to tlie 
 instructions of that great painter. But I came 
 home often — partly to sketch among the ships, 
 and partly to see Castilla. 
 
 Enough of my affairs, whicli concern this 
 story but little.
 
 204 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AARON FLETCIIEE. 
 
 ^HE sixth year came — nay, it had run 
 half its course and more ; yet no 
 news of the ' Countess of Dorset.' 
 And there was no longer any doubt 
 that the ship was cast away, and all the crew 
 long since dead. As for Jack, who had been 
 our hojDC and our pride, of whom we had said 
 that a youth so brave and so masterful must 
 needs rise to greatness, and bring credit upon 
 himself and those who had been his friends, 
 none now ever spoke a Avord. Or if they did, 
 it was but to say that the loss of the boy had 
 brought age upon the Admiral, and that 'twas 
 great pity a youth of such goodly pi'omisc 
 should thus untimely perish. The stars had 
 lied ; witchcraft and magic were proved of no 
 avail.
 
 VERY WELL THEN 205 
 
 Jack was dead. In the club at the ' Sir 
 John Falstaff ' his ship was never talked of, nor 
 was there any further speculation as to her 
 course, for the Admiral's sake, even by Mr. 
 Brinjes. And, by all the world, the boy was 
 well-nigli forgotten. When the greatest of 
 living men, he whose name is most in men's 
 mouths, dies, the daily life of the world is no 
 whit changed ; and liis place, even in his own 
 work, wdiatever that may be, is speedily filled 
 up. What then can one expect in the case of 
 a boy .^ 
 
 But in Mr. Brinjes' parlour, where now Bess 
 Westmoreland sat every afternoon, for company, 
 and to cheer the old man's heart. Jack was not 
 forgotten. These two talked about him still. 
 More than this — superstitiously trusting to the 
 negress's magical practices — they confidently 
 expected that he w^ould return again. Well, in 
 the event the forecast proved true ; but, if we 
 are to trust to such an oracle, where is reliijion ? 
 If an ignorant negro woman is permitted to find 
 out, by her witchcraft, the secrets of the future, 
 and to foretell them, what shall become of re-
 
 2c6 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ligion ? Then, farewell, faith ; farewell, prayer ; 
 farewell, trust in Divine Providence ; farewell, 
 learning, since ignorance succeeds wlierc wisdom 
 fails ! 
 
 In six years Bess had, like Castilla, grown 
 from a child to a woman. She was now in lier 
 seventeenth year, not yet filled out to the ful- 
 ness of her figure, but already tall and shapely. 
 If she had been dressed in rags, she would have 
 commanded attention ; but she was careful of 
 her dress, and w^ent always becomingly attired, 
 though not above her station (the coral beads 
 that we know of were placed away in sonje 
 drawer or box out of sight). She was so tall 
 that she topped her father (but he was round- 
 shouldered) by a head and neck, and there w^as 
 no girl in all the town within her height by an 
 inch and more ; she bore herself like a lance, so 
 straight and upright was she. Her nose and 
 chin looked as if they had been carved by a 
 skilful sculptor out of marble, so clear and 
 delicate were they ; her eyes were black, as was 
 her hair ; but rosy red her lips, and joearly 
 white her teeth. Like many black-haired
 
 VERY WELL THEN 207 
 
 women, her cheek was full, but somewhat pale 
 iu colour, aud her throat was white, not with 
 such a whiteness as lent another charm to the 
 complexion of Castilla, which, although of a 
 sweet and delicate white, yet glowed with a 
 rosy warmth. The whiteness of Bess was a 
 colder or deeper white — a white that docs not 
 reflect the light, such as some Italian painters 
 have delighted to portray ; her hands w^ere 
 small, and her forehead low, as the Greeks loved 
 it ; as for her eyes, they were soft and deep, 
 save when she was roused, and then, indeed, 
 they flashed fire and flame. As became her 
 station, she w^ore no hoop, and dressed her hair 
 in a simple knot ; but she walked as if her 
 limbs vrere of springing steel ; and I am sure 
 no Princess in a hoop and patches could have 
 walked more like a goddess ; her arms, when 
 she was at work, were the whitest ever seen, 
 and the best shaped. 
 
 I have never disguised, and shall never dis- 
 guise, my behef, though Castilla will not agree 
 with me — that is, she assents, but without 
 warmth — that Bess w^as the most beautiful mrl
 
 2o8 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 then living ; and this I can the more fairly say, 
 because I was never in love with her, any more 
 than a painter is in love with his model. As 
 for love between Bess Westmoreland and my- 
 self, that was always impossible. Yet, for 
 suitors, she never lacked any, though she sent 
 all away, not with discourtesy, or with mockery, 
 or with mirth, as some girls will — as if it is a 
 line thing to dash the hopes of an honest lad, 
 and as if lovers can be had for the trouble of 
 picking them up — but with firmness and with 
 dignity, being too proud to encourage them, or 
 to suffer them to believe that she wanted their 
 wooing. Some of them were substantial and 
 reputable men, whom the daughter of a mere 
 Penman might have been proud to marry. 
 Why, it he had died, what would she have 
 done for her daily bread ? To my own know- 
 ledge, one of her wooers was gunner's mate in 
 the King's Navy ; another was a master wheel- 
 wright in the King's Yard ; a third was fore- 
 man in the Greenland Dock ; and, I dare say, 
 there were more of equally respectable place. 
 It became a proverb that there was no man
 
 VERY WELL THEN 
 
 209 
 
 good enougli for Bess Westmoreland ; and the 
 other girls, who might otherwise have been 
 envious of her charms, regarded her with open 
 admiration, because she was not only much 
 more beautiful than themselves, yet wished to 
 carry away none of their sweethearts. 
 
 One lover alone, out oF all, stuck by her, 
 and refused to take her 'Xo' for an answer. 
 This was Aaron Fletcher, now grown into 
 a young giant, who carried on his lather's 
 business of boat-buiklcr, yet was of roving- 
 disposition, and kept his smack at Gravesend, 
 or at Leigli, in which he went fishing. Those, 
 however, who spoke of those fishing voyages, 
 were apt to laugh, and to ask why that fishing- 
 boat never came back by daylight. 
 
 ' 1 liave told you,' said Bess, * I have tokl 
 you a hundred times, Aaron, that I will not 
 listen to you. Wherefore, go away in peace, 
 and trouble me no longer. Why. there are 
 dozens of other girls in Deptford, and plenty 
 better-looking than me would take you, and 
 that joyfully.' 
 
 'There are not plenty for me,' he replied. 
 
 VOL. I. 1^
 
 2IO THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ' I want but one. And, Bess, I shall never 
 give up asking. There's nobody in the world 
 loves you better, or would do more for thee. 
 Why am I not good enough ? There's money 
 in the stocking, Bess, now father is dead — ay ! 
 and more than you think — and more to come. 
 There's as good business doing in my yard as 
 in any boat-builder's on the river, not to speak 
 of the smack, which does a tidy stroke, take 
 year and year about. I am not a drunkard, 
 though once a week or so I may take my glass 
 with the rest. I am strong, and I am young. 
 I wouldn't strike a woman nor treat her cruel. 
 I'd be true and fliithful. Come, Bess, what is 
 the matter Avith me, that thou canst not say 
 "Yea"?' 
 
 Well would it have been for her, and for 
 another, too, if she could have said ' Yea,' and 
 taken him. Why did she not? He was tall 
 and strong, and handsome of his kind ; he was 
 not esteemed to be ill-tempered ; he was not at 
 that time a drinker, save of a cheerful glass ; 
 he had a good character, save for the reputation 
 of these fishing voyages of his, whicli did him
 
 VERY WELL THEN 211 
 
 no hurt with anyone. Did not the Admiral 
 himself put Aaron's Nantz upon his own table ? 
 He would have made Bess a good husband, if 
 any could, because such a woman, if she is to 
 be happy, must needs have a strong man for 
 a husband, and one who will rule her and 
 make her respect him. Well, indeed, it would 
 have been for her if she had taken this brave 
 fellow ; but she could not. 
 
 ' Bess,' he said, ' you can't be thinking still 
 upon that midshipman ? Why, he was but a 
 boy, and you Avere a child. He's cast away 
 and dead long ago ; and if he was not, he 
 wouldn't remember you.' 
 But she made no reply. 
 ' 'Tisn't for love of him, Bess, is it? Why, 
 I fought him half a dozen times; and, if he 
 were to come back, I would light him again.' 
 
 She laughed scornfully. ' 'Tis true, Aaron, 
 the last fight I saw ; and where were you at 
 the end of it ? Eubbing your head, and look- 
 ing ruefully at your broken finger. And 
 where was Jack ? Walking away with a laugh. 
 But don't talk to me about Jack, Perhaps he 
 
 p 2
 
 212 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 is dead. Living or dead, I don't suppose he 
 Avould remember or care for a poor girl like 
 me. But I can't marry you, Aaron.' 
 
 ' You shall,' he said with an oath. ' You 
 shall. I will make you promise to marry 
 me.' 
 
 This was a prophecy not made by an oracle. 
 Yet, strange to say, it came true — in a sense. 
 To be sure, it was not the sense that Aaron 
 intended. It has been observed that such 
 prophecies, together with all the prophecies of 
 witches and magicians, when they do come 
 true, never happen in the way hoped for when 
 the prophecy is uttered. Certainly, as you 
 shall see, Aaron's prophecy did turn out true — 
 but the result was not what he had expected 
 and desired. In the same way, Mr. Brinjes' 
 prediction about the South Seas also proved 
 true — yet not in the sense desired and expected 
 by him. As you shall also discover. 
 
 ' Very well,' said Bess, ' I will promise to 
 marry 3'ou, Aaron — when I love you. Can 
 a girl say fairer ? Go away now, Aaron ; go 
 away and find some other woman \\\\o wants
 
 VEJ^V WELL THEN 213 
 
 to go marrying, and take pity on her, if you 
 can. But as for me, I will marry no man.' 
 
 However, he renewed his importunity : 
 offering her presents, which she refused — such 
 as parcels of lace, flasks of Nantz for her father, 
 rolls of silk, and so forth, all got, I doubt not, 
 in the way of his fishing — and always declaring, 
 in his masterful way, that sooner or later she 
 should promise to marry him.
 
 21-4 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 HOW JACK CAME HOME AGAIN. 
 
 ND now I have to tell how Jack was 
 joyfully restored to us. It was m 
 sorry plight, and after many dis- 
 asters and sore privations, which 
 killed his companions, but left him — to look 
 upon — none the worse, when he came back to 
 good food and decent clothes again. I think 
 that no one had ever a more wonderful story 
 to tell, and yet there Avas never a worse hand 
 at telling his adventures. Lucky it was for 
 Ulysses, and for ^neas, that they found poets 
 to sing their sufferings and their wanderings, 
 for, I dare say, the former, at least, would have 
 made a poor hand at telling them himself. A 
 greater than Ulysses was here ; and no one, 
 until now, has ever told, save imperfectly, the 
 story of his voyage. It will never be narrated
 
 VEJ^V WELL THEN 215 
 
 as it ought to be, movingly, and to the hfe ; 
 and the sailing of the ' Countess of Dorset ' 
 among the Pacific Islands, and the discoveries 
 which she made, and the dreadful calamities 
 v^hich befell the ship and the crew will no 
 more be remembered than if she had been 
 some poor and insignificant collier, cast away 
 with her crew of half a dozen men and a boy, 
 on the Goodwin Sands. 
 
 It is also a strange circumstance that his 
 life should have been saved by the man who, 
 man and boy, was his steady and coDstant 
 enemy. Nay, as you will see in the sequel, his 
 life was once more saved by the same hand — a 
 thing which clearly shows the hand of Provi- 
 dence, if it were only designed in mercy as a 
 rebuke to the man who desired and even en- 
 deavoured to compass the death of his enemy 
 and rival. Yet I never heard tell that Aaron 
 Fletcher repented of the hatred which he 
 always bore to Jack. 
 
 One night in the month of September, and 
 the year seventeen hundred and fifty-six — a 
 dark and cloudy night, the stars hidden and no
 
 2i6 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 moon, a light breeze flying, but only in puffs, 
 and hardly enough to fill the canvas, and a soft 
 and soaking rain falling — a small vessel, rigged 
 with fore-sail, sprit-sail, main-sail, and top-sail, 
 was slowly making her way across the German 
 Ocean. Her name was the ' Willing Mind,' of 
 Sheerness ; she was manned by a crew of five, 
 two more than are generally taken on board a 
 fishing-craft of her dimensions. Of these men, 
 the skipper sat in the stern, the ropes in his 
 hand, two were lying asleep beside the skipper, 
 covered with a tarpaulin, and two were in the 
 bows keeping watch. She carried no light, but 
 she was sailing well north of the track of out- 
 ward-bound vessels, and was by this time too 
 close to the Essex coast to fear being ran down 
 by colliers. Perhaps the watch was on the 
 look-out for lights on the coast, or for a King's 
 revenue cutter, of which there are many along 
 the east coast, and they greatly molest this 
 kind of craft, overhauhng them suspiciously, 
 and searching for brandy and the like, im- 
 pressing the honest fishermen on board, and 
 sometimes even imprisoning them, haling them
 
 VERY WELL THEN 217 
 
 before a magistrate, and bringing them to trial ; 
 and even, if they show much resistance, hanging 
 them ; and by their very appearance always 
 obhging the crew to throw overboard, if they 
 have time, the whole of their cargo. It 
 generally consists of a strange kind of fish, in 
 the shape of kegs, runlets, and jars, with bungs 
 and corks in their mouths. Perhaps tlie 
 ' Willinj]^ Mind ' showed no li^^ht because tlie 
 skipper and his crew dreaded being captured 
 by a French privateer, for we were again at 
 war with France, and the Channel was crowded 
 with these hornets, though, as a rule, they 
 hardly ventured north of the Goodwin Sands, 
 or off the Nore. 
 
 The boat slipped through the water slowly 
 and silently, save for a gentle ripple in the 
 bows. There was little way on her, but she 
 kept moving. 
 
 ' I take it,' said the skipper, grumbling, 
 ' that it is already past midnight ; we ought 
 to have made Shoeburyness by now. In three 
 hours it will be daylight, and perhaps the dogs 
 upon us — and with such a cargo ! '
 
 2i8 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ' The breeze will freshen with the dawn. 
 Master,' said one of the men in the bow. 
 
 ' And then it may be too late. And we 
 haven't had such a cargo for a twelvemonth. 
 What is that off the starboard bow ? ' 
 
 ' It looks like a buoy. But it can't be a 
 buoy ! ' It Avas a black object, indistinct as 
 yet, but tliey were nearing it. Presently, a 
 hoarse cry of ' Sail ahoy ! ' came across the 
 water. It was repeated twice. 
 
 ' It is a boat with four men in her,' said the 
 watch, making her out. ' A little dingy she is. 
 Now, what the plague is she doing out here ? ' 
 
 ' Sail ahoy ! ' came across the water again. 
 And now they could distinguish the figures of 
 three or four men standing up in the boat. 
 
 The skipper cursed and swore, and put up 
 his helm. 
 
 ' Sail ahoy ! for Jesus' sake ! We are sink- 
 ing ! ' cried the men. 
 
 The skipper cursed and swore again, louder 
 and deeper ; but he altered his course, and bore 
 down upon the boat. 
 
 There were five men in her, but one of
 
 VERY WELL THEN 
 
 219 
 
 tliem lay in tlie stern with his head upon his 
 arms, motionless. The boat had neither oars, 
 
 mast, or sails ; she was half full of water, and 
 the men were baling her with their hats.
 
 220 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ' For God's sake, take us aboard ! ' they 
 cried. 'It is as much as we can do to keep 
 afloat, and we are starving ! ' 
 
 ' Wlio are you ? ' asked the skipper. 
 
 'We liave broke from a French prison,' 
 tliey tokl liim ; ' and four days out, and notliing 
 to eat.' 
 
 Still the skipper hesitated. 
 
 ' Cap'en,' said one of the men, ' we can 
 guess, pretty easy, wdio you are, and Avhat is 
 your business. That is nothing to us. Take 
 us on board. You shan't regret it. Only take 
 us on board and give us something to eat, and 
 set us ashore on English soil ; and if you were 
 laden wnth all the brandy there is in the world, 
 you should never be sorry for coming to our 
 help.' 
 
 The skipper cursed them again for inter- 
 rupting his run. But it would liave been the 
 most shocking inhimianity to refuse ; therefore, 
 with a bad grace, and sulkily, he ordered them 
 to get on board as quickly as they could. This 
 they did ; but they had to help the man in the 
 stern, because he had got an open wound in his
 
 yE/^V WELL THEN 221 
 
 head and had lost much blood, besides being 
 nearly starved. So they lifted him in and laid 
 him on a tarpaulin, and cast off their crazy little 
 boat, and the smack went on her course again. 
 
 Then the skipper, wlio was not wanting in 
 generosity, though he cursed them for stopping 
 him, pulled out of the locker such provisions as 
 might be expected in such a craft — consisting 
 only of bread, mouldy Dutch cheese, and some 
 onions. But, Lord! if these had been the 
 greatest dainties ever set before an Alderman 
 the men could not have devoured the food 
 more greedily ; even the wounded man lift- 
 ing his head and eating ravenously. When 
 there was nothing at all left to be eaten, 
 tlie skipper passed round a bottle of ])randy 
 and a pannikin, which were received with 
 lieartfelt gratitude too deep for power of speech. 
 For cold and starving men bread and cheese 
 and onions make a banquet, but brandy in 
 addition — oh ! 'twas too much ! 
 
 When they had eaten up everything, there- 
 fore, and drunk as much brandy as their rescuer 
 would give them, they began, as sailors will,
 
 222 TTHE WORLD WENT 
 
 through a spokesman, to relate thek story. 
 Everybody knows, that at the outbreak of the 
 war the French fleet put so many privateers to 
 sea, and ^ve had so few, that there w^as nothing 
 but the capture of Enghsh merchantmen going 
 up and down the Channel, and the French 
 prisons were soon choked with poor devils laid 
 up by the heels, and Avaiting for a general 
 exchange, or for the close of the war, to be 
 released. Three of the men had been taken 
 by a privateer out of a West Indiaman, and 
 conveyed with others up the country to a place 
 called St. Omer, which is a fortified town some 
 twenty miles from Dunquerque, and about the 
 same distance from Calais, and were then clapped 
 into prison in the citadel, or the barracks, or the 
 town jail, I know not which. Wherever it was, 
 they found there, among the other prisoners, 
 the man w^ho lay wounded on the tarpaulin, not 
 able to sit up, and saying nothing. And he it 
 was, they said, who had devised the plan of their 
 escape. There w^ere a dozen more who were 
 in the plot, and should have m.ade the attempt, 
 but at the last moment they lost heart, as always
 
 VEI^V WELL THEN 223 
 
 happens in an adventure so desperate^ and re- 
 mained behind. As things turned out. it was 
 hicky that tliere were no more of them, because 
 there w^as certainly no room for any more in 
 their rickety httle boat. 
 
 I do not rightly understand how the escape 
 w\as effected, because in the subject of fortifica- 
 tions I am ignorant, though Jack hath often 
 endeavoured to explain to me the nature of 
 scarp, counterscarp, bastion, and so forth. 
 However, they surmounted all these difficulties, 
 and in the dead of night they found themselves 
 on the right side of the ramparts — that is, on 
 the outside — and with open country all round 
 them. Then, steering by the stars, they made 
 due north. Before they got half way on their 
 journey they w^ere surprised by dawn, and 
 forced to seek a hiding-place, which they found 
 in a wood or coppice beside a river, wdiere the 
 shelter was good, though the lying w^as wet and 
 swampy. Here they stayed all day, w^itli 
 nothing to eat except a few berries, then happily 
 ripe. At nightfall they started again, and, as 
 they judged, soon after midnight found them-
 
 224 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 selves on a sandy coast somewhere between 
 Calais and Dunquerque, near a place called 
 Gravelines. But there was no boat on this 
 open and deserted coast, and they wandered up 
 and down for a lonoj time seekinir for one, and 
 fearing lest they might again have to seek a 
 night's shelter. When, at last, they found one, 
 it was hauled up high and dry on the sand. 
 This would have mattered little ; but, unluckily, 
 her owner, or a man wlio behaved like her 
 owner, was sleeping on the sand beside her. 
 There w^as no choice, but they nnist needs have 
 her, and while they dragged her down to the 
 sea, the Frenchman woke up, and perceiving 
 that he w^as being robbed of his boat, he lugged 
 out a knife and made at them, and, before lie 
 could be fairly knocked on the head, gave their 
 leader a desperate cut across tlie face, from 
 which he lost a great deal of blood, and was 
 much weakened. They got him safely into the 
 boat, however, though he was fainting from the 
 wound, and so put to sea, and hoped to be able 
 to row across the Channel, if they should have 
 the good luck to 'scape the privateers, and make
 
 VERY WELL THEN 225 
 
 the port of Dover, in eight or ten hours ; or, 
 perhaps, they might be picked up by some 
 Enghsh ship, if they were hicky. They had 
 neither mast nor sail in the boat, and there 
 were no provisions in it of any kind. Also, as 
 they quickly discovered, she very soon sprung 
 a leak, and had to be baled out continually. 
 They rowed on, however, taking turns, for 
 three or four hours. Then a most unfortunate 
 thing happened. For, while two of them were 
 rowing lustily, in their eagerness to lose no 
 time, and to get across and land on English soil 
 again, and the oars being not only small but 
 old and rotten, they both snapped short off 
 close to the rowlock, at the same time. This 
 accident dashed all their hopes, for, though 
 they tore up two of the boat's planks, thinking 
 to row with them, it was slow work ; then they 
 tried to make a sail with a shirt and one of 
 these planks, there being a light breeze from 
 the sou'-west, and they got, as they supposed, 
 into the current. They were carried, certainly, 
 as they discovered at daybreak, out of sight of 
 the French coast, but also, which was another 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 misfortune, outside tlie track of sliips, and so, 
 though they saw many sail in the distance, they 
 passed none near enough to be picked up, and 
 in this miserable condition tossed and drifted 
 for four days and four nights, and were now 
 well-nigh spent, and the leak in the boat grow- 
 ing every moment worse, so that she threatened 
 to fill with water and to sink under them unless 
 they baled continually. 
 
 ' It's easy guessing,' they re^^eated, after 
 they had told their story, ' what you've got on 
 board : that's no concern of ours. Only you 
 put us ashore. Without making bold to in- 
 quire further, tell us where we are, and how 
 far from shore.' 
 
 ' As to where we are,' said the skipper, ' the 
 night is dark, and I don't rightly know. But 
 to the best of my guessing, we are not far from 
 Shoeburyness, which should lay right ahead ; 
 but the shore is low, and difficult to make out.' 
 
 ' Mate,' said the spokesman, ' land us as far 
 from any port as you can. I guess the press is 
 hot up the river.' 
 
 The skipper said that there was a very hot
 
 VERY WELL THEN 227 
 
 press ; that as to himself, he was gomg to land 
 at Shoeburyness, where he could put them 
 ashore, and they could then shift for themselves, 
 and make their way inland, if so be they had 
 friends anywhere, 
 
 'As for this poor fellow,' said the man, 
 pointing to the one Avho was lying doAvn, ' he 
 says he's an officer, though he doesn't look 
 like one in those rags of his. So he's got no- 
 thing to fear from a press. Don't put him 
 ashore, skipper. Take him to some place 
 where he will get his wound dressed. If what 
 he says is true, he will be able to pay you for 
 the service.' 
 
 ' I will take him,' said the skipper, ' to 
 Gravesend. That is all I can do for him. 
 After that, he must shift for himself.' 
 
 Shortly after this, and before daybreak, 
 they made the land between the village of 
 Southend and Shoeburyness. Here they landed 
 the four men, who, with many vows of gratitude, 
 expressed in sailor-hke fashion — namely, with 
 appeals to the Divine Power to blast them and 
 sink them if they ever forgot this service — 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 quickly vanished inland. It matters nothing 
 what became of these poor fellows ; but intelli- 
 gence came from Maldon, shortly afterwards, 
 that a gang of four men, dressed like sailors, 
 had been apprehended stealing a sheep. They 
 made a desperate fight, and one of the posse 
 comitatus was dangerously wounded. In the 
 end, they were overpowered, and taken to 
 Chelmsford Jail, where, in due course, they 
 were all hanged. If these w^ere the men landed 
 from the ' Willing Mind,' the poor wretches had 
 better have remained in their prison at St. 
 Omer, where, at least, they were hving a life 
 of innocenc}^, although half-starved with their 
 meagre soup and sour bread. But perhaps the 
 men who were hanged were another gang. 
 
 Now, as regards the cargo of the ' Willing 
 ]\/[ind ' — I mean that load of fish, all with corks 
 and bungs in their mouths — it would be a 
 shame for me to disclose where it was landed, 
 and by whom it was received, though one may 
 know very well. I am not a spy and an in- 
 former ; the revenue officers may find out for 
 themselves the secrets of the trade which they
 
 VERY WELL THEN 229 
 
 have to stop, if they can. I say not whether 
 it is such a trade as a person of tender con- 
 science may undertake ; but, at least, this much 
 may be said for it — that those who practise it 
 know beforehand the risks they run, and the 
 punishment which awaits them if they are 
 captured. 
 
 Enough to say, that the landing was suc- 
 cessful, and that about noon that day the 
 ' Wilhng Mind,' now in ballast, was running up 
 the Thames with full sail, wind and tide favour- 
 able, bound for Gravesend ; and the wounded 
 man was so far recovered, that he was now 
 sitting up and looking about him. He was a 
 wild creature to look at, being, to begin with, 
 horribly thin, as if he had had no food for 
 months ; he had suffered his beard to grow, 
 and it now covered his whole face, so that he 
 looked like a Turk, with his hair long and un- 
 combed ; his head was bound up with a dirty 
 and bloody clout, which hid one eye ; there 
 was blood upon his cheek. Presently, while 
 he looked about him with lack-lustre gaze, the 
 pain of his wound being great, his eye fell upon
 
 230 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 the skipper, and lie started and became sud- 
 denly alive and alert. 
 
 ' Aaron Fletclier, by the Lord ! ' he cried. 
 
 ' That is my name,' replied the skipper. 
 ' I am not ashamed of it. But I don't know 
 you, mate.' 
 
 ' You have forgotten me, Aaron. If you 
 had known me, you would have been all the 
 more anxious to save my life. Of that I am 
 well assured. We should have foundered in 
 five minutes. As for me, I cared nothing 
 whether we sank or swam. All is one to a 
 starving man. Give me another tot of brandy, 
 Aaron. Don't you recognise me now ? ' 
 
 ' Man ! I never clapped eyes on you before 
 to my knoAvledge. But since you know mj^ 
 name, and therefore, hkely, where I live, so 
 that you might do mischief, let me tell you ' — 
 here he insisted or emphasised the assurance by 
 a dozen or two of round oaths, such as he and 
 his kind have always ready to hand for all 
 purposes — ' that if you are going to turn in- 
 former, after all you have seen, it would be 
 better for you if we had thrown you overboard
 
 VERY WELL THEN 231 
 
 at once with a shot to your heels. One or 
 other of us, my lad, will have your blood.' 
 
 The other men of the crew murmured 
 approval of this sentiment with additions of 
 their own invention, about cutting the weasand, 
 breaking bones and limbs, gouging out eyes, 
 and so forth. 
 
 ' The same old Aaron,' said the man. 
 ' Why, you have not changed, save that you 
 are stouter and bigger. The same sweet and 
 unsuspicious temper. I wonder if there is 
 another such treat in store for us both as we 
 had when last we met ? ' 
 
 ' Wlio the devil are you ? ' asked Aaron, 
 staring, partly because the man knew him, and 
 because so ragged a fellow should talk with 
 such boldness. But as yet quite unsuspecting. 
 
 ' That, my friend, if you cannot guess, I 
 shall not tell you. As for your kegs, fear not. 
 I care nothing where they were bestowed nor 
 to whom they were consigned, nor where they 
 came from. So far as I am concerned, you are 
 safe. Besides, you have saved my life. This 
 cut in the head, d'ye see, cost me so much
 
 232 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 blood that I do not think I could Imve endured 
 another night of starvation. Why, man, I 
 have had to hve for weeks with nothing but a 
 taste now and again, when the cliance came, of 
 putrid seal or rotten fish ! I'm downright tired 
 of starving.' 
 
 ' Who are you, then ? ' Aaron looked at him 
 hard, but could make nothing of him. 
 
 Yet it was strange that he did not begin to 
 suspect. This, I take it, was because, like 
 everybody else, he had quite made up his mind 
 that Jack was lono^ since dead, and so he was 
 gone clean out of his mind. This is so, when 
 a man is dead. His face goes out of our 
 mind because we never think to meet him 
 
 agam, 
 
 ' Well,' he said at length, ' it don't signify 
 a button who you are. You've got nothing 
 against me, even should you lay information. 
 But you're down on your luck, whoever you 
 be. And you've the cut of a sailor about you. 
 Wherefore, mate, take my advice and keep well 
 in shore, for the press is hot all the way from 
 Margate to Chelsea, and, wounded or not,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 233 
 
 they'll have you if they can, and three dozen 
 or more for skulking, if you are not fit for duty 
 in four-and-twenty hours.' 
 
 ' Thank you, Aaron,' the man replied, and 
 so lay down again and went to sleep. But 
 Aaron kept looking at him, uneasy, yet not 
 able to remember him. 
 
 So they made their way to Gravesend, and 
 arrived off that port in the afternoon. 
 
 ' I thank you, Aaron,' said the passenger, 
 waking up, and getting to his feet. ' The food 
 and the brandy and the sleep have set me up 
 again. I believe I shall be able to walk the 
 rest of the journey. One more favour, Aaron. 
 After saving my life, it is a small thing for you 
 to do. I am without a single penny. Lend 
 me a shilling, which I will bring myself to the 
 boat-house, and repay you when you come 
 home. You don't know me, Aaron ! Why, 
 man, how goes the boat-building .^ ' 
 
 Aaron produced the money, still staring 
 with all his eyes, as the children say. 
 
 ' A shilling, Aaron, is not much. If it was 
 six years ago, I should say we would fight for
 
 234 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 it.' So lie dashed back tlie hair that liung 
 about his face, and looked Aaron full in the 
 face with a laugh. 
 
 ' Good Lord ! ' cried Aaron. ' It's Jack 
 Easterbrook ! ' 
 
 ' Mr. Easterbrook, ye dog. I am in rags, 
 but I am a King's officer still, and you are no- 
 thing but a common smuggler.' 
 
 ' It's Mr. Jack Easterbrook,' Aaron repeated. 
 ' He's come back again ! ' 
 
 ' As for this shilling, Aaron, shall we fight 
 for it now ? ' 
 
 'But— Oh, Lord 1 How in the world did 
 you get in such rags as this ? And where's the 
 ''Countess of Dorset"?' 
 
 ' As for the rags, where I got them was in 
 the Isle of Chiloe, off the Patagonian coast, and 
 if I had not got them I should have come home 
 as naked as Adam in his innocency. And as 
 for the " Countess of Dorset," her timbers are 
 where I got my rags, on the coast of South 
 America, and her crew are mostly beside her 
 timbers, such parts of them, that is, as the 
 crabs have not been able to devour.'
 
 VERY WELL THEN 235 
 
 ' Oh, Lord ! ' Aaron gazed as if at a ghost, 
 and could say no more. 
 
 ' Do they think me dead, Aaron ? ' 
 
 ' All of them ; except, I am told, Mr. 
 Brinjes.' 
 
 'Oh! andthe Admkal?' 
 
 ' It isn't for the likes of me to know Avhat 
 his honour thinks, sir,' said Aaron. ' But he's 
 been going heavy for a good time past, and 
 they do say as how he frets more than a bit 
 about your drowning.' 
 
 Jack was silent for a bit. 
 
 ' And Bess Westmoreland P ' he asked. 
 
 ' What has she got to think about you for ? 
 You are a gentleman, though in rags at this 
 present moment. As for Bess, she is but the 
 daughter of a Penman. She belongs to the 
 likes of us, not to gentlemen officers/ 
 
 ' She must be grown a big girl now. Well, 
 Aaron, and Mr. Brinjes? ' 
 
 ' He's a devil. He's worse than ever. He 
 gave Lance Pegg, of Anchor Alley, the rheu- 
 matics last week, and threatens her with worse 
 for rope's-endin that girl of hers. He's a devil!
 
 23^ THE WORLD WENT 
 
 and never a day older since your honour went 
 away.' 
 
 ' So, Aaron, you have saved my hfe, thougli 
 you did not intend it. Yet I take it kindly. I 
 do not think you would have suffered your old 
 townsman and your old crony, whom you used 
 to fight whenever you met him, to drown, if 
 you had known who was in the boat.' 
 
 ' 1 would not, sir,' said Aaron, stoutly. 
 ' Yet, to tell the truth, I'd as lief, you were at 
 the bottom of the sea, in Davy's locker, where 
 we all thought you were, and Avhere you ought 
 to be by rights, your ship and the crew all 
 being there except you.' 
 
 ' Give me thy hand, Aaron.' 
 
 So they shook hands. 
 
 ' As for the shilling, sir,' said Aaron, ' let 
 me make it a guinea, and if your honour will 
 let me pay for a decent suit of clothes, or shoes, 
 at least ' 
 
 ' Nay, Aaron. As you found me, so shall 
 they find me. The shilhng will be enough to 
 pay for all I want ; and I have gone so long 
 barefooted that my feet are as hard as leather,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 237 
 
 and feel not the road. As for the shilling, we 
 will, perhaps, fight for it. But not yet. You 
 would not, I am sure, being an honourable 
 man, wish me to fight until I have recovered 
 my strength. Farewell, Aaron.' 
 
 So he stepped ashore, and with such hght- 
 ness of step as reminded Aaron of the old days 
 when Jack stepped down the street in his mid- 
 shipman's uniform, free and careless. He was 
 light of step because of the joy of returning 
 home, yet he was still somewhat dizzy and 
 weak. However, he had a shilhng to pay for 
 supper, and he had but twenty miles to walk, or 
 thereabouts. A short distance for those who 
 are strong and well, but a long journey to be 
 done on foot by a man with an open wound on 
 his forehead, and half-starved to boot, so that it 
 is not surprising that he did not reach Deptford 
 till noon next day. 
 
 The next day was Sunday. 
 
 At half-past twelve, the Vicar of St. Paul's 
 finished a most learned discourse upon certain 
 philosophical systems of the Phoenicians, the 
 Chaldeans, the Greeks, and the Egyptians, de-
 
 238 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ducing Christian truths, by the method known 
 as analogy, from each. Castilla, I remember, 
 sat with folded hands, and eyes fixed upon the 
 preacher, as if she understood every word. And 
 the Admiral slept. The poorer part of the con- 
 gregation behaved after their kind ; -that is to 
 say, the men slept, the women sat perfectly 
 still, and the boys fidgeted. When one be- 
 came too noisy, he was taken out by the beadle 
 and caned in the churchj^ard among the tombs, 
 the other boys all listening, and counting the 
 strokes, as if the number administered was in 
 itself a fine moral lesson (the same thing may 
 be observed both in the Army and the Navy). 
 When I read that the Papists attach a particu- 
 lar merit to mere attendance or presence during 
 the performance of their mass, I cannot but 
 think that the same indulgence might be ex- 
 tended to our poor ignorant rustics and servants 
 for their patient attendance at the sermons of 
 which they understand nothing. 
 
 When morning service was ended, the Vicar 
 came down from the pulpit and walked into 
 the vestry, preceded by the beadle, carrying his
 
 VERY WELL THEN 239 
 
 stick of office, aucl followed by the clerk. Then 
 the people all stood up in respect to the Quality, 
 who led the way out of the church. First there 
 walked down the aisle the Admiral, his wig 
 that morning combed, curled, and powdered, 
 and with him his lady in hoop and satin, and 
 his daughter Castilla in hoop and sarsnet, very 
 beautiful to behold. After them came Mr. 
 Pett, the shipbuilder, with his wife and family ; 
 Mr. Underhill, the retired purser, who was a 
 bachelor ; Mr. Mostyn, the Cocket- writer of the 
 Customs ; Mr. Shelvocke with his family, and 
 others who lived in the genteel houses beside 
 the Bridge ; and with them I walked down the 
 aisle, though only a painter, and an apprentice 
 at that. When we had passed down the aisle, 
 and conversed for a few minutes standing on 
 the great stone terrace which makes St. Paul's 
 Church so stately, we separated, some taking 
 the pathway through the churchyard to the 
 right into Church Lane, and others to the left 
 into Bridge Street. I walked beside Castilla, 
 who carried her Book of Common Prayer, and 
 v/as silent, doubtless meditating on the spiritual
 
 240 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 truths of the Vicar's sermon. Behind us came 
 three out of the Admiral's four negroes, and 
 Philadelphy, splendid in her red silk handker- 
 chief and a blue speckled frock. And after us 
 came the common sort flocking out together, 
 the boys, for their part, glad that the sermon was 
 finished, and all of them longing for the Sunday's 
 beef and pudding. The poor do certainly 
 exercise the virtue of patience more than the 
 rich, especially at a sermon, of which, when a 
 learned Divine, like my father, preaches it, they 
 can understand not one Avord. So that one 
 may forgive them for the unrestrained joy 
 which, on every Sunday, the faces in the side 
 aisles manifest at the conclusion of the discourse, 
 not only of the boys and girls, but of the 
 grown-up people as well. Among tliose who 
 followed after the better sort were Mr. West- 
 moreland, the Penman, and his daughter — he 
 bent and feeble, round-shouldered and meek, 
 leaning on his stick ; and by his side, Bess, tall 
 and upright as a lance, dressed somewhat finer 
 than those of her condition are wont to go, and 
 holding her head in the air as if she was a
 
 VERY WELL THEN 541 
 
 Queen. Strange that her father should be so 
 meek and humble, and that no learning of 
 the Catechism could teach Bess meekness or 
 humility. There is, I now understand, a certain 
 quality in beauty which prevents its owner from 
 lowliness, however humble be her station. The 
 young fellows looked after Bess as she came 
 forth from the church ; but she regarded them 
 with proud eyes, and passed on disdainful, as if 
 she was too high and good for any of them. 
 Therefore they followed after the other girls, 
 who were as willing as Bess was proud, and 
 perhaps, in these honest fellows' eyes, not much 
 less beautiful. 
 
 Just opposite the churchyard gate, close to 
 the principal entrance of Trinity Hospital, we 
 observed, as we passed into Church Lane and 
 turned to the right, a fellow leaning against the 
 posts. He was tall and big-hmbed, but thin 
 and wasted, as if he had been sufferintr from 
 some disease or dreadful privations. One could 
 very well see that he was a sailor, though in 
 his dress, such as it was, there was little to show 
 it. He wore a common sailor's petticoat or 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 slop, he had a ragged waistcoat, buttoned up 
 to the neck, because he had neither sliirt nor 
 cravat ; he was bareheaded and barefooted ; 
 his hair was long and matted ; round his 
 forehead was tied a dirty clout or handker- 
 chief, red with streaks of blood, so that he 
 seemed to have but one eye. 
 
 As we came out of the churchyard, I 
 caught sight of him, and thought, naturally, 
 how he would look if he were drawn just so, 
 in those rags, and put into a picture, making 
 one of a group. And I saw, but suspected 
 nothing — how could Ave be all so foolish and 
 blind as not to see, with half an eye, who it 
 was? — how he started when we came forth 
 from the churchyard, and made as if he would 
 move towards us, perhaps to beg, but checked 
 himself, and waited where he was. 
 
 But the Admiral stopped, and surveyed him 
 leisurely from head to foot. Then he lugged 
 out his purse, and found a crown-piece, which 
 he bestowed upon the man. 
 
 ' My lad,' he said, ' thou art a sailor, and 
 thou hast fallen among thieves, behke. I will
 
 VERY WELL THEN 24.3 
 
 not ask where thy wound was gotten, nor 
 in what company ; nor how thou art in such 
 ragged phght. Take this crown-piece. Go into 
 dock and refit. When this is spent, come to 
 me for another. And when all is w^ell ao-ain, 
 volunteer and serve the King, and so keep out 
 of mischief.' 
 
 He shook his gold stick with admonition, 
 and stumped away. But the man took the 
 coin and held it in his hand, without saying a 
 word of thanks. I, still watching him in my 
 foolish way, because so picturesque a rogue had 
 I never seen, most of our ragged vagabonds 
 spoiling their beauty, so to speak, by going in 
 an old wig, torn in half, burned, uncombed, 
 and dirty, that hath, perhaps, been used by a 
 shoeblack to rub the shoes in his trade. There 
 is no picturesqueness possible in an old wig. 
 Yet, I was not so stupid but I saw in the man's 
 eye a look wdiich was both wistful and sorrow- 
 ful, though I did not then interpret it in that 
 manner. 
 
 So the Admiral w^ent on, followed by his 
 good lady, who held lier skirts in her hand,
 
 244 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 and stared at the man in her turn, as ladies 
 sometimes look at sucli poor wretches — namely, 
 as if they were of a diiTerent clay, and had 
 another kind of Adam for their father. But 
 one must not expect a gentlewoman, such as 
 the Admiral's lady (she was by birth distantly 
 connected with the Eight Honourable the Earl 
 of Bute, and a Scotswoman) to understand 
 how, beneath the most rugged exterior, there 
 may be found admirable qualities of courage 
 and fidelity. So she gazed upon him, turned 
 her head, and went her way after the Admiral. 
 After her came Castilla. ' Poor man ! ' she 
 said, in her sweet way, ' I would I had some 
 money to give thee ; but I have none. Truly 
 thou art to be pitied. I wish thee better 
 fortune and a ship.' 
 
 She had been taught by lier father, and 
 fully believed it, that the only place where 
 these rough tarpaulins were happy and out of 
 mischief was on board ship. Seeing that they 
 are so often drunk and fighting, and in trouble 
 on shore, perhaps she was right, But then 
 ashore there is no bo's'n, and there is no cat~o'-
 
 VERY WELL THEN 245 
 
 nine-tails, save for pickpockets. So slie looked 
 at liini compassionately, and he moved his lips 
 as if he would have spoken, but did not. And 
 so she passed on her way. 
 
 Then came I myself. I said nothing, but 
 he looked at me with a kind of sorrowful 
 wonder. I remembered, directly afterwards, 
 what that eye of his said as plain as it could 
 speak ; but at the moment I was deaf to its 
 voice, and blind and stupid, thinking only of 
 a bundle of rags on a tall figure, and how the 
 man and the rags would look in a picture. 
 After ourselves came the nes^roes and Phila- 
 delphy. The men rolled their eyes at this 
 poor fellow with the contempt that a fat and 
 well-fed negro always feels, forgetful of his skin, 
 for a starving white man, and if their master 
 had been out of hearing they would have 
 laughed aloud and even rolled on the ground 
 in the enjoyment of his suffering. Nothing 
 makes a negro laugh more joyfully than to see 
 somebody hurt. That is, perhaps, why some 
 of their kings celebrate their most joyful festi- 
 vals with horrid murders and rivers of blood.
 
 246 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 Philadelpliy followed her young mistress, and 
 had no eyes for anyone else, being, though a 
 witch and a sorceress, and an Obeah woman, 
 faithful to Miss Castilla. 
 
 When we had passed, the Vicar came out 
 of the vestry and so into Church Lane. 
 
 ' Why, my friend,' lie said, stopping to 
 contemplate the scarecrow, 'where hast thou 
 gotten these rags and this w^ound ? ' 
 
 ' I have escaped, sir, from a French prison, 
 and have received a hurt on the forehead.' 
 
 Something in his manner touched the 
 Vicar. 
 
 ' Are you a common sailor ? ' he asked. 
 
 'Do I look like aught else, sir? Heard 
 one ever of an officer in such rags as mine ? ' 
 
 'Yet you speak like an educated man. 
 And your voice seems familiar to me. Follow 
 me to the vicarage, my poor man, where you 
 shall have a plate of victuals and a tankard 
 of ale, and we will see what can be done to 
 replace some of these rags, which are not 
 proper for a Christian man and an honest man 
 to wear.'
 
 She /ell on her knees upon iJie inuddy g'tvund.'
 
 VERY WELL THEN 247 
 
 ' How dotli your Eeverence know that I 
 am an honest man ? ' 
 
 ' Nay, that I know not, and there are many 
 rogues abroad. But it is not for me — God 
 forbid ! — to attempt to separate the sheep from 
 the goats. Therefore, sheep or goat, follow me 
 and be welcome, in the name of our Saviour.' 
 
 The Yicar left him, and he turned and 
 would have followed, but for one thing;. 
 
 We who were a few yards in advance, 
 unthinking and unsuspecting, heard a cry 
 which stopped the very beating of our hearts. 
 
 The cry was from Bess Westmoreland. 
 
 She, too, saw the ragged sailor when slie 
 passed through the churchyard gate. But she 
 did not, like the rest of us, pass on, and think 
 no more. She suddenly broke from her father, 
 pushed the crowd away to right and left, and 
 fell on her knees upon the muddy ground, 
 catching the man by both hands, like a mad 
 thing, and crying : 
 
 ' Oh, Jack ! Jack ! Jack ! He is home 
 again ! Jack Easterbrook has come home 
 again ! '
 
 248 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 Then, as we crowded round, we saw the 
 tears run down his face. It was the first time, 
 and the last, that ever any man saAv Jack weep ; 
 yet he had plenty to cry for, both before this 
 and after. He caught the girl by both hands, 
 and bent over her, saying, as we all heard : 
 
 ' Oh ! Bess, Bess, none of them remembered 
 me — not even Luke ; none of them thought of 
 me ! But you remembered me, Bess ! Oh ! 
 Bess, 3'ou remembered me ! '
 
 VERY WELL THEN 249 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE 'COUNTESS OF DORSET.' 
 
 ^HEN" we all crowded round him, 
 shaking his hand and rejoicing; and 
 the Admiral first swore at Jack for 
 playing a trick upon us (but, alas ! 
 it proved to be no trick), and then at himself 
 for his stupidity, and then could say nothing 
 for the tears which drowned his voice and ran 
 down his cheeks. And Jack declared first that 
 he would never part with the Admiral's crown- 
 piece, and next that he would not put off his 
 rags until he had first eaten the Vicar's plate of 
 victuals and drank his tankard. This he did ; 
 and the Vicar said grace solemnly, with thanks 
 for the safe return of the long-lost sailor ; and 
 we all flocked round him to see him eat and 
 drink. A pretty sight it was, for he had not
 
 2 so THE WORLD WENT 
 
 tasted honest roast beef for six long years. 
 Then, though it was Sunday, nothing would do 
 but they must ring the church bells, as if they 
 would bring down the tower about their heads. 
 And Mr. Brinjes came running in shirt-sleeves, 
 waistcoat, and night-cap, just as he left his shop, 
 the lancet still in his hand with which he had 
 been bleeding people all the morning. 
 
 Thus we carried home our poor ragged 
 prodigal. After the first confusion was over I 
 looked for Bess, but she had slipped away, 
 unheeded. 
 
 Then came the barber, and cut off his 
 frightful beard, trimmed and powdered his hair, 
 and tied it behind with black ribbon, so that he 
 looked now like a Christian. More suitable 
 clothes were found for him, and as for his wound, 
 Mr. Brinjes dressed it for him, and covered it 
 with plaister, telling him that it was an ugly 
 gash, but in a few days would be healed, save 
 for the scar across his forehead, a thing which 
 no sailor heeds ; and then he stood before us, a 
 proper and handsome fellow indeed. He had 
 left us a lad, and he came back to us a man,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 251 
 
 over six feet in height, and with broad shoulders 
 and stout legs to match. His cheeks, 'tis true, 
 were somewhat hollow and pale, because he had 
 been on short commons for four years, as you 
 will presently learn. 
 
 ISTow, you will believe that we were eager 
 to know what had befallen him ; but we could 
 at first get little talk with him, for all that 
 afternoon there came to the house people of 
 every kind anxious to see and converse with this 
 young hero, who had, it was reported in the 
 town, escaped from the French after six years 
 of captivity. The Church Ser\dce in both 
 churches was that afternoon read to empty pews, 
 because all the worshippers were in the Admiral's 
 garden. Among them came the widows of those 
 Deptford men who had sailed with Jack in the 
 ' Countess of Dorset ' ; many of them had long 
 before this married again, and all were anxious 
 to hear of their late husbands, inquiring par- 
 ticularly into the circumstances of their death, 
 and appearing to find consolation in considering 
 the dreadful nature of their sufferings. There 
 came all Jack's former friends, who had not
 
 2C2 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 forgotten liim, sucli as almsmen from Trinity 
 Hospital, and pensioners from Greenwich, old 
 sailors from Deptford and Eotherhithe, and even 
 shipwrights and dockyard carpenters. Mr. 
 Westmoreland came, but without his daughter ; 
 and even, though this seems incredible, some of 
 the Thames watermen, who had the grace to 
 remember Jack Easterbrook. All the afternoon 
 Cudjoe and Snowball, who ought to have been 
 at church, trudged about with foaming tankards 
 and mugs, giving everybody who desired an 
 honest glass to drink the Lieutenant's health (he 
 was still only a midshipman, but they gave him 
 promotion). And there were a thousand ques- 
 tions asked one after the other, so that long 
 before the evening, when we were to have an 
 account of the voyage, we knew pretty well 
 what had happened. And, though it was 
 Sunday, there was brewed a great bowl of punch 
 for the evening ; and in the end the Admira^ 
 w^as carried to bed, and many of the guests 
 retired with a rolling gait and thick voice; 
 while, as for me, the next morning showed, by 
 trembhnsj fino^ers and headache, besides the
 
 VERY WELL THEN 253 
 
 memory of uncertain steps, that I, too, had 
 rejoiced among the rest beyond the limits of 
 soberness. Among the company were, first, 
 my father, the Vicar of St. Paul's ; then Captain 
 Petherick, the commissioner of the King's Yard ; 
 Mr. Stephen Pett, who hath a shipbuilding yard 
 of his own, where many fair vessels have been 
 built ; Mr. Mostyn, Cocket-writer in His Majesty's 
 Custom House ; Lieutenant Hepworth, formerly 
 of General Powlett's Eegiment of Marines ; 
 Mr. Underhill; Mr. Shelvocke (the younger), 
 who had himself been round the world in the 
 year 1720, as everybody knows who has read 
 tlie account of his father's voyage, and the 
 malicious book concerning the same voyage 
 written by Mr. Betagh, his Captain of Marines. 
 There was also Mr. Brinjes. And I, for one, 
 presently observed with pride that we had here 
 assembled tosfether in one room — a thinoj which 
 could hardly be compassed in any other town, 
 except Portsmouth, Plymouth, and Chatham — 
 three men who had at three separate times sailed 
 upon the great unknown Pacific ; and of these, 
 two had actually circumnavigated the globe.
 
 254 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 I have observed, Imving been born and 
 broiigiit up among men who dehght in telling 
 and hearing stories of battle, escapes, shipwreck, 
 and the like, that the hero of a hnndred adven- 
 tures is seldom as ready to tell them as he who 
 hath in all his life experienced but one ; and 
 that, often enough, not of his own seeking, but 
 against his own desire, and even entered upon 
 in bodily fear. Yet Virgil makes -^neas relate 
 his wanderings movingly and in the finest verse ; 
 and Shakespeare tells how Othello would, in the 
 hearing of Desdemona, fight his battles over 
 again. As for Jack, he had encountered so 
 many perils and met with so many adventures, 
 and those of so extraordinary a kind, that one 
 would not expect the hundredth part of them 
 to be told in one evening. They were enough 
 to fill a dozen books of travel, such as are 
 generally written, most of them with no adven- 
 tures more terrible than the upsetting of a coach 
 or the appearance of a footpad ; nay, I have 
 never seen any books which contained such 
 wonders as Jack had witnessed, if we except 
 the voyages of Captain Clippertou, Captain
 
 VERY WELL THEN 255 
 
 Slielvocke, and Commodore Anson ; and none 
 of these commanders ever sailed anionic the 
 islands which the ' Countess of Dorset ' visited. 
 Yet he was not able, at first, to tell us much 
 about them ; and it was only by continual 
 questioning and persuading him to talk, with 
 the map lying open before him, that we could 
 get him to unburden his mind of some of the 
 things he had seen and undergone. Some men 
 — of whom Jack was one — are so constituted 
 that they do not seem to understand what 
 people want to know, or what they should tell 
 them. Our hero Avas not reticent, I am sure, 
 from any fear of appearing boastful, because 
 sailors love above all things to speak of their 
 own adventures ; but because, first, he felt, on 
 this the first day of his return, new and strange 
 to us, after six years of absence ; and next, he 
 was never good at narrating, save stories of 
 fight ; and, further, it is not easy for anyone to 
 gather up immediately, and at short notice, all 
 the recollections of the past six years. When 
 a man has been two years with savages, or two 
 years in a Spanish or French prison, he is apt
 
 256 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 to forget some of the things which happened 
 before, even though they passed among the un- 
 known islands of the Pacific Ocean. 
 
 'As for her course, now,' he began, doubt- 
 fully. He had before him the map of the 
 world, on Mercator's projection, by John Senex. 
 It was my father's copy, and although the map 
 is not on so large a scale as a ship's chart, yet 
 it was big enough to serve. Deptford is too 
 insignificant to be marked, and Jack's finger, 
 when he would indicate the ship's starting-point, 
 covered the whole of Kent, Middlesex, Essex, 
 and Surrey. ' As for her course, now,' he re- 
 peated, looking at the map doubtfully, con- 
 sidering how best to begin. Perhaps he had 
 forgotten how to use a map, since he had not 
 seen one for four years. Castilla was standing 
 on one side, looking over his shoulder, I at the 
 other side. The Admiral sat opposite, his red 
 face filled with benevolence and affection. 
 Surely, there never was a kindUer face in the 
 world. Behind him and beside the fireplace 
 was his lady, not carried away so greatly by 
 the general emotion, partly because she never
 
 VERY WELL THEN 
 
 257 
 
 entertained the same love for Jack that filled 
 her husband's breast, and partly because, like 
 most women, she was not in the least degree 
 
 interested in foreign lands and savage races, and 
 
 partly because she knew not the bottom of a 
 
 map from the top. The gentlemen sat round 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 2 58 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 the table as tliey chose, and at the sideboard 
 the two negroes had charge of the smoldng 
 bowL I love negroes for one thing : that is, 
 for thcK fellow-feeling when any occasion for 
 rejoicing and feasting arises. They would hke 
 the whole of their lives to be spent in feasting, 
 drinking, and laughing. For instance, I do not 
 suppose that these two rascals had given one 
 single thought to Jack during the whole of his 
 six years' absence, yet here they were, their 
 mouths broad grinning, their faces shining, their 
 eyes twinkling and dancing, moving nimbly 
 about with the glasses, taking care, with the 
 greatest zeal, that the Admiral's was kept 
 always full, and that none of the gentlemen 
 should be allowed so much as to glance inquir- 
 ingly in the direction of tlie bowl. Had it been 
 the return of their own son they could not have 
 shown a livelier joy. N.B. — Later in the 
 evening, when the Admiral w^as in bed and the 
 guests gone, they finished the bowl themselves ; 
 and had it not been for Jack, who in the morn- 
 ing was so good as to pump upon them, they 
 certainly would have incurred the wrath of the
 
 VERY WELL THEN 259 
 
 Admiral, for they were even at eight o'clock in 
 the morning, and after a night's sleep, still more 
 than half seas over. 
 
 ' Oh, Jack,' said Castilla, ' to think that you 
 should remember her course after all these 
 years ! ' 
 
 ' Easy a bit, my lad,' said the Admiral. 
 ' Take another glass before we begin. Gentle- 
 men, fill up. Fill up the gentlemen's glasses, 
 ye black rogues ! This is a joyfid evening — an 
 evening out of ten thousand. And to think 
 that none of us knew him except Bess, the 
 Penman's girl ! Castilla, my dear, where were 
 your eyes ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed, Sir, I was thinking of the Vicar's 
 discourse. Else, I am sure I should have 
 known Jack.' 
 
 ' And where were ycius, Luke, and where 
 were mine — to treat him like a raij^amuffin 
 tarpaulin? Well, well! Fill up Mr. Jack's 
 glass. Snowball. Drink, my lad ; Castilla loves 
 a sailor who can take his whack. Drink her 
 health as I drink thine, dear lad.' 
 
 Castilla lausfhed. She loved soberness and
 
 26o THE WORLD WENT 
 
 temperance ; but Jack did not come home 
 every day. 
 
 ' As for her course, now,' said the Admiral. 
 
 ' We sailed from Deptford ' 
 
 ' You did, my boy, and I well remember 
 the day, six years ago, when the " Countess of 
 Dorset " dipped her ensign and fired her salute. 
 The boy tells me, gentlemen, that for four years 
 he has never tasted punch — poor lad ; nor 
 quaffed a tankard of ale — think of it ; nor sat 
 down to a comfortable pipe of tobacco ; nor 
 known the comforts of a hammock in a sea- 
 worthy and weather-tight vessel. For four 
 years ! Your Eeverence, it is Sunday evening ; 
 but, with respect to the cloth,' the Admiral 
 turned his face, rosy and beaming as the setting 
 sun, to my father, ' when the prodigal son came 
 home did his father ask the Chaplain, who, I 
 suppose, was a Levite, whether it was the 
 Sabbath Day, before he ordered the flitted calf 
 to be killed and roasted ? ' 
 
 ' We do not learn that he did so,' replied 
 my father. ' Though doubtless ' 
 
 'Then, Sir, suffer us to believe, for our
 
 VEJ^V WELL THEN 261 
 
 satisfaction at the present juncture, that the 
 event, hke another one of later occurrence, 
 happened on the Sabbath Day. Then have we 
 authority of Holy Writ for making merry on 
 the Sabbath Day.' 
 
 At this display of wit they all laughed 
 without rebuke from the Vicar. 
 
 ' Go on, Jack ; go on, my lad. I must 
 still be talking, when it is Jack we want to 
 hear. Your health, my lad, your health. I 
 never thought to see thy honest phiz again. 
 Thy hand again. Jack. This is a joyful 
 evening, gentlemen. Damme, I say again, 
 a joyful evening.' Yet the tears stood in his 
 eyes. 
 
 We were all moved, and the Admiral more 
 tlian any. But Mr. Brinjes sat in his place, his 
 one eye, like a ball of lire, fixed on Jack. I 
 knew that he was recalling his own voyage in 
 the Southern Seas, and thinking of his treasure. 
 It was as if some scent or fragrance of the 
 islands which he loved to talk about was cling- 
 ing to Jack. 
 
 Then our returned prodigal went on with
 
 262 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 liis narrative, and if the interruptions of the 
 Admiral are not set down, with his ejaculations 
 and oaths, it is because, were everything to be 
 told, no history would ever come to an end. 
 Wherefore they are omitted ; nor have I tried 
 to set down all that Jack said, nor a tenth part, 
 on this evening, because half the time he was 
 answering questions from Mr. Shelvocke, wdio 
 must needs show his knowledge of those seas, 
 and from Mr. Brinjes, who had also sailed upon 
 them, and from Captain Petherick, who was a 
 great lover of geography. I have also ven- 
 tured to omit that part of his narrative which 
 related to the behaviour of the crew, the sailing 
 qualities of the ship, and those matters gene- 
 rally which concern sailors, and wdiich would 
 only be understood by them. ' We sailed, as 
 you remember. Admiral, carryiug with us 
 twenty-five guns, with a crew of 120 men all 
 told, and provisions for twenty-four months. 
 Gentlemen, with submission, I venture to re- 
 mark that no navy provision exists which will 
 last twenty-four months, for the biscuit becomes 
 weevilly, and the pork and beef rancid ; and
 
 VERY WELL THEN 263 
 
 as to the cheese and the salt butter — but 
 
 there ! ' 
 
 ' He is right,' said Mr. UnderhilL 
 ' We were fortunate, however, and fell in, 
 before we suffered much from this cause, with 
 provisions of another kind. The last land 
 that we saw was the Start, and the next was 
 Cape Finisterre. We then stood away for the 
 island of Teneriffe, where we designed to take 
 in wine, rum, and brandy, the Captain being 
 of opinion that to keep a merry heart in the 
 crew — which is, above all things, desirable on 
 a long voyage — a double ration is often neces- 
 sary ; wherefore, we laid in at the town of 
 Santa Cruz a great store of malmsey, canary, 
 and verdina, which is a greenish-coloured wine 
 and strong bodied, but keeps well in hot 
 climates. 
 
 ' After leaving Teneriffe, we were becalmed 
 for three weeks, during which, I remember, we 
 caught two very fine sharks, off which the men 
 regaled. Then we touched at St. Helena. 
 After this we were driven off our course by 
 the trade-wind, and sighted Tristan dAcunha ;
 
 264 ' THE WOkLD WENT 
 
 WG put la at the Cape, and, after leaving Algoa 
 Bay, we steered nor'-nor'-east, passing the 
 southern point of Madagascar, where we ex- 
 pected to meet with pirates.' 
 
 'I fear they are all dead,' said Mr. Brinjes. 
 ' Their settlement was on the north-east 
 coast, which is not so full of fever as the 
 south-west. Dead now, they must be, every 
 man. And I doubt if their children, darkies 
 all, would have the spirit to carry on the 
 business.' 
 
 ' Our course was now to the coast of New 
 Holland, the object of the voyage being, as the 
 Captain told us, to discover new lands, and, if 
 possible, countries where British settlements 
 might rival those of Spain in the Manillas and 
 the Ladrones.' 
 
 ' You did not visit the Manillas, then ? ' said 
 Mr. Shelvocke. ' There is nothing in those seas 
 which can surpass the Manillas in beauty and 
 fertility.' 
 
 ' The Pope,' said my father, ' pretended, in 
 his pride, to confer upon the Spaniards all the 
 lands beyond the Atlantic, including, I suppose.
 
 VERY WELL THEN 265 
 
 Magellanica or the Pacific Ocean, which was 
 not then discovered.' 
 
 ' We had bad weather crossing this great 
 ocean, whereon we sailed for two months, or 
 thereabout, with never a sight of land. Then 
 w^e began to find seaweed, wdth cuttle bones 
 and bonitos, and after two or three days we 
 sighted land ; but finding nothing except rocks 
 and foul ground, w^e stood off again/ His 
 finger was now on the coast of the great un- 
 known southern island called New Holland. 
 ' On the third or fourth day we found an open- 
 ing in the land, and anchored in two fathoms 
 and a half of water. We called the place 
 Shark's Bay, and w^e stayed here a w^eek. The 
 shore is shelving to the sea, and w^e saAV there a 
 kind of animal like the West Indian maccaroon, 
 save that it has lon^r hind le^s on w-hicli it 
 jumps ; and I think it was there that w^e found 
 an ugly kind of guana which stinks. The 
 natives were naked black men, some of them 
 painted with a kind of pigment, and their hair 
 frizzled. They seem to live on shell-fish, and 
 carry lances with heads of flint.'
 
 266 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ' I had hoped,' said my father, ' to hear of 
 some pohte and civiHsed nation with arts and 
 sciences, and traditions of tlie patriarchal re- 
 hgion, and of gentle manners.' 
 
 ' Their manners,' Jack continued, ' are 
 beastly, and their ways are treacherous ; and 
 as for religion, we saw no sign of any. How 
 can savages have any religion who live on 
 mussels ? I have lived on them myself, and felt 
 no promptings of rehgion all the time, but only 
 discontent and swearing. Well, gentlemen, 
 we continued our voyage, and I dare say we 
 carried the coast line a good bit farther than 
 this map shows ; but my memory serves me not 
 on this point, and my own as well as the ship's 
 log was lost when the ship was cast away.' 
 
 ' Our course,' said Mr. Shelvocke, ' w\as 
 north of these latitudes. Wherefore, I have 
 never visited the shores of New Holland. This 
 I regret the less, having seen the Manillas.' 
 
 ' When Ave reached the most southerly 
 point, which, I dare say, may be somewhere 
 near to this place on the map, the Captain 
 called together his Lieutenants, the Master and
 
 VERY WELL THEN 267 
 
 the Captain of Marines, and, over a cheerful 
 glass, opened his mind to them, as we pre- 
 sently heard in the gun-room. He said that 
 his orders were general, and that it was re- 
 ported by those who had sailed on those seas, 
 particularly by those who thought it no sin to 
 hoist the Jolly Eoger '' 
 
 ' It is not,' said Mr. Brinjes, stoutly, ' pro- 
 vided that it is in Spanish v/aters only. I have 
 myself sailed under the crossbones and skull. 
 Sin ? Why, it is a commendable action to 
 maul and harass the Spaniards.' 
 
 ' The Captain said that it was reported,' 
 Jack continued, ' that there are islands in those 
 seas of incredible wealth, compared with which 
 Mr. Shelvocke's Manillas are poor ; but that the 
 Spaniards either endeavour to keep the secret 
 of these islands to themselves, or they have not 
 the curiosity to seek them out. His design was, 
 therefore, to seek for these islands, even though 
 we might have to fight the Spaniards should we 
 meet them ; and if any place should be found 
 to possess the w^ealth they are supposed to con- 
 tain, then, Spaniard or no Spaniard, to plant
 
 268 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 the flag of Great Britain upon tliem ; and, if 
 Heaven should prosper our enterprise, presently 
 to return by the Straits of Magellan. 
 
 ' So we steered a course north-west by 
 north, across an open sea, with fair winds, 
 sio-htinfij no land at all until we were in latitude 
 20° south, or thereabout, when we came to a 
 great island ; indeed, if it be not a part of the 
 
 great Southern Continent. Gentlemen ' 
 
 Jack broke off here. ' I cannot tell you all, 
 nor a tenth part, of what we saw in these seas. 
 There are thousands of islands, all much finer 
 than you can imagine.' 
 
 ' They are — they are,' said Mr. Brinjes. ' I 
 have seen them myself.' 
 
 ' Our own course,' said Mr. Shelvocke, 
 jealously, ' was in the northern latitude, the 
 islands of which are incomparable.' 
 
 ' And of what kind are the people ? ' 
 
 ' For the most part we found them gentle 
 and generous. No travellers have ever visited 
 these islands that we could learn ; they know 
 nothing of the Spaniards ; they are black, and 
 go naked, and they can all swim like fishes.'
 
 VERY WELL THEN 269 
 
 'They can,' said Mr. Brinjes, 'especially 
 the young women.' 
 
 ' Of what kind is their religion ? ' asked the 
 Vicar. 
 
 ' I think, Sir, that they have none ' — Mr. 
 Brinjes shook his head — ' at least, we saw no 
 signs of any, though, of course, we could not 
 talk to them in their own language. Tlie 
 islands are so close together that it is impossible 
 to sail more than a day or two without coming 
 in sight of a new archipelago ; some there are 
 which we judged as big as Ireland, perhaps, 
 and others not more than half an acre ; some 
 there are which are only coral reefs lying in a 
 circle round smooth water, no bigger than some 
 of the West Indian Keys ; and some there are 
 which are covered with great mountains and 
 volcanoes.' 
 
 'It is true — it is quite true,' said Mr. 
 Brinjes. 
 
 ' And as for the riches of them ? ' asked one 
 of the company. 
 
 ' I know not if there be any. We made 
 such signs as we thought would make them
 
 270 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 understand that we wanted gold and precious 
 stones ; but they produced none, and we 
 beheved that they have no knowledge of gold, 
 even if there be gold in their mountains. Of 
 pearls there must needs be plenty, seeing that 
 there are oysters in abundance. But we saw 
 none.' 
 
 ' No gold and no jewels ! ' said my father. 
 ' Happy islanders ! ' 
 
 'And they seem to have all things in 
 common.' 
 
 ' Wherefore the main temptations to sin,' 
 said my father, ' are removed. Where there is 
 no private property there can be no robbery, 
 no envying, no jealousies, no overreaching. 
 Oh, thrice happy people, if they knew their 
 own happiness ! ' 
 
 ' If we had not lost the log,' Jack continued, 
 ' we should have covered these seas with 
 islands never before seen, even by Dampier, 
 Magellan, Drake, or Eogers. Xow, no one 
 knows where they are, and I alone of all living 
 men, unless it be Mr. Brinjes, have seen them. 
 As for our gallant company ' — here he paused
 
 VERY WELL THEN 271 
 
 and looked around liun solemnly. I have 
 noticed many sailors do the same thing ; it is 
 as if they were counting those present to be 
 sure that they, too, are not shipwrecked men — 
 ' they are all dead by now, I doubt not. 
 Unless some escaped, of whom I know nothing, 
 who may be living yet among the Indians.' 
 
 ' Fill his glass,' said the Admiral. ' Gentle- 
 men, let us drink to the memory of these poor 
 fellows, cast away, and now dead.' 
 
 ' There is no such sailing,' Jack continued, 
 ' anywhere in the world ' 
 
 ' There is not,' Mr. Brinjes interrupted. 
 
 ' Save for the constant temptation for the 
 men to desert, and live in indolence amonix 
 these people. Better would it have been, save 
 for one who now sits here among you all, had 
 the Avhole ship's company gone ashore and 
 stayed there, to live in the Avarm air and 
 sunshine of that climate.' 
 
 'Better to die a Christian than live a 
 heathen,' said the Vicar. 
 
 ' Well, we had the Church Service read 
 every Sunday morning,' said Jack, ' which was
 
 272 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 no doubt a comfortable thing for tlie poor 
 fellows to think upon when the rocks were 
 cracking their skulls like eggshells. But as 
 for the sailing, so long as we were among the 
 islands, it was like cruising upon a pond, with 
 fresh fruit, and fish of all kinds, and wild birds 
 in plenty to be shot. Sir ' — he addressed the 
 Vicar — ' this place is surely the Garden of 
 Eden, though there is in Scripture no mention 
 made of any seas. Of this, the Captain, who 
 was a sober and rehgious man, was well 
 assured.' 
 
 ' The site of the garden,' said my father, 
 ' hath been Y)laced in Mesopotamia, between 
 the Tigris and Euphrates, or in Arabia Fehx, 
 or at the foot of the Caucasus, or near Damas- 
 cus, but never, that I know of, in Magellanica 
 or Oceanus Australis. And I know not how 
 it could be there, unless the Euphrates and the 
 Nile have greatly changed their course.' 
 
 ' It cannot be anything else but the Garden 
 of Eden,' said Jack; ' though, perhaps, in the 
 Deluge much of it was swallowed up, and only 
 the tops of the mountains left above water,'
 
 VEJ^V WELL THEN 273 
 
 ' Should we ever,' said the Vicar, ' find that 
 garden, which doubtless exists somewhere upon 
 the earth — nay, some have pretended to ha^■e 
 seen it — we shall also find the gate, and at the 
 cate the ano-el with a fiamiuo- sword turning; in 
 every direction to keep the way of the Tree of 
 Life. But it may very well be that, when the 
 curse of labour was imposed upon man for the 
 sin of Adam — in consequence of which some 
 parts of the world were afflicted with aridity 
 and sand, other parts were covered with ice 
 and snow", others, again, became marshes, and 
 others became hard and unprofitable for the 
 toilers — that some parts were left by merciful 
 design in their virginal and pristine beauty, 
 just as they left tlie hand of the Creator at the 
 dawn of the first Sabbath, being reserved for 
 this generation to discover, so that faith might 
 be strengthened, and true religion revived in 
 the world, by so striking a proof of the Divine 
 Narrative. But let us go on, for the hour 
 groweth late.' 
 
 ' Alas ! gentlemen, there is very little more 
 to tell, and the rest of the history of the ill-fated 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 '' Countess of Dorset " is all misfortune. We 
 came, at length, to an end of these islands, 
 which we parted with to our great regret ; and 
 so, with open sea, steering now east or south- 
 east, with design to make Juan Fernandez or 
 the Island of Masafuera. When we were 
 within thirty or forty leagues, according to our 
 reckoning, of these islands, there fell upon us 
 a dreadful gale, or succession of gales, whicli 
 lasted a week or more, so far as I remember, 
 the ship driving before the wind under bare 
 poles. Then we lost our foremast, and pre- 
 sently both mainmast and mizenmast went by 
 the board ; and for great waves and the force 
 of the wind, I never experienced the like. We 
 rigged a jury-mast with difficulty, and a fore- 
 sail to steady her head. By this time our 
 bulwarks were broken, and our boats stove in, 
 so that there was very little hope left us, except 
 that the gale might abate, in which case we 
 might keep her afloat — for now she had sprung 
 a leak, and the men were kept day and night to 
 the pump — until we could make some kind of 
 raft. As for our guns, we heaved them over-
 
 VERY WELL THEN 275 
 
 board, with everything else that would lighten 
 the ship. Gentlemen, the gale did not abate ; 
 on the contrary, it blew harder, if that w^ere 
 possible ; and I think everybody on board had 
 given up hope. As for the men, some of them 
 did their duty to the last : but some of them 
 became mutinous, and wanted to get to the 
 spirit store, and go down happy. Which is, I 
 take it, a fool's way of dying.' 
 
 ' It is,' said the Vicar. 
 
 ' I have seen them die that way,' said Mr. 
 Brinjes. ' Some men have even walked the 
 plank, after drinking a pint or so of rum, 
 dancin^r and laucfhini]^, and with the end of a 
 song on their lips. But, no doubt, 'tis better 
 to go down sober. Besides, there is always 
 some hope for a sober man, but none for a 
 drunken one.' 
 
 ' I do not know, gentlemen, how long this 
 lasted. We unshipped oirr rudder, I remem- 
 ber, which finished our misfortunes, for now 
 the ship lay like a log in the trough of v\'aves, 
 which rolled her about as they pleased. And 
 how many were washed overboard I know not ;
 
 276 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 nor liow many Avere left in the ship when at 
 last she struck the rocks, and was beaten to 
 pieces. I would rather flxce a dozen broad- 
 sides than wait again, for a week or more, with 
 Death almost certain at tlie end of it. To 
 judge from the haggard faces of those who 
 waited with me, and to remember my own 
 mind — why, we died a hundred deaths in the 
 mere apprehension and waiting for it. Most of 
 us died in earnest before long. For one morn- 
 ing, when the daylight came, we saw before us 
 a most dreadful sight — namely, the coast of 
 Patagonia, which is the most inhospitable, I 
 suppose, in the wdiole world, and the most 
 terrible, by reason of its rocks and precipices. 
 We were driving right upon the coast. Then, 
 indeed, w^e gave ourselves up for lost. When 
 we struck, the sea lifted her and beat her 
 against the rocks, breaking and grinding her 
 timbers as if she had been nothino- bii?£rer than 
 a Portsmouth wherry; and the waves broke 
 over her at the same time, washing the men 
 from the places where they were clinging. As 
 for me, I was carried off, and what happened
 
 VERY WELL THEN 277 
 
 to me afterwards I know not, save tliat I lost 
 consciousness, and when I recovered I found 
 myself lying on a ledge of rock, but liow I got 
 there, whether carried thither by some great 
 wave or upon some piece of wreck, I know 
 not. The first thing I did was to make sure 
 that I had no bones broken. I was not indeed 
 hurt in any way, save that from head to foot I 
 was covered with bruises, which were of small 
 account. And then I turned to look at the 
 wreck. We were surely landed in the worst 
 place in tlie world ; it w^as a narrow creek or 
 bay between high cliffs, into which the sea 
 rushed with violence inexpressible. Already 
 the ship was broken up save for the after part, 
 where there were still clinging two or three 
 poor wretches ; below my feet in the boiling 
 water, grinding against each other, were pieces 
 of wreck, and, most terrible to see, there were 
 mangled bodies of our poor fellows, dashed 
 against the rocks and among the broken 
 timbers. It is wonderful to think that any 
 of us escaped. 
 
 ' At first I thought that I was alone, the
 
 278 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 only man saved. But there were others, and I 
 found that most of them, like myself, could not 
 tell how they had got ashore, and why they 
 were not, like their shipmates, dashed to pieces. 
 There were fourteen of us in number, and no 
 more came ashore ; wherefore, seeing the vio- 
 lence of the waves and the impossibility of 
 swimming in such a sea, we concluded that the 
 rest were all drowned. When the wind abated, 
 which was the next day, we managed to get 
 up to the rocks some of the timber and wreck 
 washed ashore, and made some kind of shelter ; 
 but we could not light a lire, and it was now 
 the winter season hi these latitudes, and cold. 
 There were one or two casks of provisions 
 which reached the shore unbroken and not 
 touched by the sea ; we lived upon them while 
 they lasted, our drink being rain-water, of 
 which there was plenty. When this supply 
 ceased we had nothing to subsist upon at all 
 but shell-fish, of which there were at first great 
 quantities, but we presently exhausted them, 
 and then we had to leave our hut, such as it 
 was, and to move on along the coast in order
 
 VERY WELL THEN 279 
 
 to find more. We were all the time as men 
 in a dream, not knowing where we were nor 
 what to do ; all day we gazed stupidly at each 
 other, and all night we crouched together for 
 warmth. But when the time came that we 
 must leave our rocks we began to take counsel. 
 My companions were common sailors, rude 
 and ignorant fellows ; and as for me, I knew 
 nothing except that I was certain that we must 
 be somewhere upon the western shore of South 
 America, that part of it which is called Pata- 
 gonia. Now, if we marched south, we should 
 in time come to the Straits of Magellan, through 
 which there might pass some ship ; but how 
 long we should wait, or how great the distance 
 might be, we knew nothing. And every day's 
 march would bring us into colder and more 
 desolate regions. On the other hand, if we 
 marched north, we might, in the long run, 
 reach the Spanish settlements, which are re- 
 ported to stretch southward very far. But, 
 again, should we reach them, it was most likely 
 that they would murder us, or hand us over to 
 the Inquisition to be burned alive for heretics.
 
 2So THE WORLD WENT 
 
 However, we decided in the end to march 
 north, which we did, leaving behind four of 
 our number who had died, partly of cold and 
 partly of tlux, brought on by the shell-fish diet, 
 which afflicted us all in various ways. As for 
 myself, it covered my whole body with an 
 intolerable itching, which flew from one part 
 to another, so that I got no rest day or night.' 
 
 ' It is a prurigo,' said Mr. Brmjes. ' There 
 is no cure for it but a change of diet.' 
 
 'We were by this time in as miserable a 
 plight as ever befell shipwrecked sailors, for 
 the weather was continually wet and cold ; as 
 for our clothes, they were rags, wet through 
 day and night ; we were pinched with hunger ; 
 we had not a shoe to our feet ; there was not a 
 single tool or weapon, not even a knife among 
 us. A man, gentlemen, without tools is in 
 sorry case. So we began our way along the 
 coast, which we durst not leave, partly for fear 
 of wild beasts and natives, and partly because 
 while we kept near the sea we should not 
 starve. We wandered in this way, seeking 
 such shelter as we could find, and always wet.
 
 VERY WELL THEN 
 
 281 
 
 cold, nncl half starved, for a month or two — I 
 know not how long. But one day -we fell in 
 with a tribe of Indians. By this time, I re- 
 member, there were only eight of us left. 
 These men came to meet us, brandishing spears 
 and threatening to kill us ; wdiile we, for our 
 part, had nothing to do except to make signs 
 showing how helpless and harmless we were. 
 So they took us wdth them : and I think I 
 never spent a happier evening than the first, 
 when we lay upon the ground about a great 
 fire, with broiled fish to eat and sealskin to 
 cover us. We had not been warm or dry for 
 a matter of three months. As for hving with 
 them, we soon got tired of that life, except two 
 of our company, who took Indian wives, and 
 resolved to continue among them. For, like 
 us, they lived by the seashore, having no 
 knowledge of any agriculture, and devoured 
 fish and mussels, oysters, and so forth, all of 
 which were collected for them by their wives. 
 I have never seen any more dexterous than 
 these poor women in diving and catching fish, 
 which they w^ould drive, by frightening, into
 
 282 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 some small creek or inlet of the sea, v/hence 
 they could not escape and were easily captured. 
 They also collected and eat certain berries, 
 which were nauseous at first, but which we 
 presently grew to consider as useful against the 
 disorders caused by a fish diet. But as for the 
 dirt and the vermin, and the savage nature of 
 the life we led, I cannot so much as speak of 
 these things. Sometimes when, by reason of 
 storm and gales, fish was scarce, we were driven 
 to live on the flesh of seals, and that putrid and 
 stinking. And because we depended so much 
 upon the mussels and oysters, we were obliged 
 continually to shift our quarters, and slowly 
 drew more and more northwards, until at last 
 we arrived at the most southerly of the Spanish 
 settlements, which consisted of nothing else than 
 a kind of convent and a church with four priests. 
 For my own part, I approached the place with 
 terror, thinking that the stake would be set up, 
 and the flames would be consuming us as soon 
 as the priests should understand that we were 
 Englishmen and Protestants. Well, gentlemen, 
 they never so much as asked us of what rehgion
 
 VERY WELL THEN 283 
 
 we were. But these good priests — ^your 
 Eeverence will forgive me ' 
 
 ' There are charitable hearts in every country 
 and in every religion,' said the Vicar. ' Why 
 not in Mai]jellanica ? ' 
 
 * They gave us clothes to put on ; tliey 
 washed and dressed our wounds, because by 
 this time we were covered all over with sores 
 and bad places. They gave us good food and 
 wine to drink, and they heard our story — one 
 of them could speak English — with tears and 
 pity. They told us that we must be sent to the 
 nearest Spanish port as prisoners ; but bade us 
 be of good courage, because we should be 
 treated well.' 
 
 ' In these remote parts,' said the Vicar, ' the 
 Pope and the Inquisition being so far off, there 
 is room for the growth of human feelings, even 
 with priests.' 
 
 ' After six months of living among them — a 
 better and a more charitable brotherhood I 
 never hope to meet — there came an opportunity 
 of conveying us to the island of Chiloe, where 
 there is a Spanish Governor. Now, I reckon
 
 284 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 that the ship was cast away two years and a half 
 after we sailed, it being then midwinter, which, 
 on the coast of Patagonia, is in the month of 
 July ; and I think that we lived with the Indians 
 for the space of two years — it was time enough 
 to wear out all that were left of our rags, so 
 that we went into the convent with nothing but 
 sealskin over our shoulders, tied round the waist 
 with a thong of sealskin leather. We stayed at 
 Chiloe, where we were treated more hardly than 
 with the priests, yet not cruelly, for three or 
 four months, when the Governor was able to 
 send us on to the port of Callao.' 
 
 ' He is now,' said the Admiral, ' prisoner of 
 the Spanish, and within reach of the Bloody 
 Inquisition . Snowball, fill up Mr. Easterbrook's 
 glass. Keep it full, ye lubber ! at such a time 
 he needs all the punch he can swallow.' 
 
 'Out of the whole ship's company, there 
 remained now but six. They put us in prison, 
 but they gave us wine and food, chiefly beans, 
 bread, and onions, as good as they had them- 
 selves, and sometimes chocolate. Presently 
 there came a priest, and began to talk about our
 
 VERY WELL THEN 285 
 
 heretical condition, and the dangers we ran 
 should we continue in obstinacy. This made us 
 mighty uneasy, as you may imagine ; because 
 the Inquisition — the Holy Inquisition, as they 
 call it — is established at Lima, whither, the 
 Padre informed us, we should shortly be taken. 
 It seemed hkely that we had only escaped 
 drowning to suffer the rack and the stake. I 
 hope, gentlemen, that I should have done my 
 duty even to the end, had there been no escape. 
 Meantime, I cast about how to get out of tlieir 
 clutches. We had a good deal of liberty within 
 the prison, and many visitors came there bringing 
 cigarettos, wliich are rolls of paper containing 
 tobacco, to the prisoners, who were mostly half- 
 caste, in prison for stabbing, or sailors for mutiny, 
 the authorities caring little how their prisoners 
 pass the time so long as they are kept in limbo. 
 In this way, I made the acquaintance of an 
 honest Frenchman, captain of a trading brig, 
 who, I found, hated the priests and all their 
 works and took pity on me, seeing that I must 
 either become a convert or look to be burned. 
 He, therefore, brought me a disguise, and
 
 286 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 conveyed me safely out of prison on board his 
 own ship, where I remained stowed away in 
 the hold until he sailed out of harbour. As 
 for the other men, three of them recanted their 
 errors, as they called it, and walked in the pro- 
 cession at an Auto da Fe at Lima, where the 
 other poor fellow^s, who stuck by their guns, 
 were burned alive.' 
 
 ' 'Tis a damnable nation,' said Mr. Brinjes. 
 
 ' Say rather,' said the Yicar, ' that it is a 
 nation under the curse of a gloomy superstition, 
 which prompts them to commit these cruelties.' 
 
 ' As for me, I worked before the mast, and 
 found the French sailors, when I could talk their 
 lino'o, an honest set of fellows. But when we 
 got to Brest, we learned that war had broken 
 out ; and so I was a prisoner again, and marched 
 as a common sailor, with others in the same 
 plight, from one strong place to another, till we 
 came to St. Omer.'
 
 VERY WELL THEN 
 
 287 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 HOW JACK THANKED BESS. 
 
 AELY ill the evening, when 
 
 the common sort had all 
 
 gone away, well filled with 
 
 r^^A the Admiral's best October,
 
 288 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 and before the gentlemen arrived, Jack left 
 us, and stole quite unnoticed from the house. 
 As he left us, so he returned, no one having 
 observed tliat he had been absent for a 
 moment. Yet we were all of us talking and 
 thinking of no one else, and believed that 
 he was still among us. So, in a play at the 
 theatre, when tlie mind is fully charged and 
 occupied with the hero, so that one can 
 think of nothing Init his adventures, we do 
 not perceive that he is no longer on the 
 stage before our eyes, and, when he presently 
 returns, we do not remember that he has ever 
 been out of our sight, and nil that has passed 
 seems to have been done in his presence. 
 
 But why Jack left us and whither he went, 
 I have since been told, and that, as one may 
 say, on credible authority- — namely, by the 
 only person who knows. 
 
 In short, he left us to go in search of Bess, 
 jiis heart being, already, inflamed by the thought 
 of her beauty, and fired with gratitude because, 
 of all his old friends, she alone recognised him. 
 Ulysses was recognised by none but his dog.
 
 VERY WELL THEN 289 
 
 Why, Jack would have been less than human, 
 a mere senseless log, had he not been moved 
 by this circumstance. And so far from sense- 
 less his was a heart as easily inflamed as touch- 
 wood. 
 
 Bess was sitting on the floor before the fire, 
 her father being somewhere abroad, I suppose, 
 in conversation with his friends and cronies, 
 the sexton and the barber. It was Sunday 
 evening, therefore she had no knitting or work 
 of other kind in her hands. She could not 
 read, and therefore she had not taken one of 
 her father's books ; and she was alone, there- 
 fore she was not talking. Outside, the night 
 had already fallen, but she was not one of 
 those wdio waste good money by burning 
 candle and fire at the same time, unless for tlie 
 sake of work. The red firelight played upon 
 her cheeks, and made them glow ; and upon 
 her eyes, and made them red balls ; and upon 
 the walls of the room, which were covered 
 with specimens of the Penman's art, pasted on 
 the wainscot; and on the sideboard, where 
 stood the candlesticks of brass and the snuffers, 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ^oolishecl and briglit ; with the house pewter, 
 which shone hke silver, so good a housewife 
 was this gild. Her hands lay folded in her lap, 
 and she was leaning forwards as if reading 
 faces in the red coals, as children sometimes 
 love to play. I think she saw one face only, 
 and that a strange wild face, with matted hair 
 and long beard, and a bloody clout across the 
 forehead. As to her thoughts — who can read 
 the thouo^hts that crowd into the head of a 
 young girl P I would not dare to say that up 
 to that time Bess was in love with her old 
 playfellow ; yet it is certain, because Mr. 
 Brinjes spoke so much of him, that he often 
 occupied her mind. Xor w^as it, I venture to 
 say, all on Jack's account that she would listen 
 to none of Aaron Fletcher's advances. Yet 
 she mnst have been hard-hearted, indeed, had 
 this home-coming; failed to move her soul. I 
 have sometimes thought that if at this time 
 Jack had made no advances to her, she must 
 presently have taken Aaron and thought no 
 more of her old playfellow, save as of a gallant 
 gentleman belonging to a class above her. No
 
 VERY WELL THEN ic^i 
 
 man can speak positively of a woman's mind ; 
 but I am assured that it is seldom in the nature 
 of a woman to love any man — though she may 
 greatly admire him — until he hath first shown 
 and proved by words and looks that he thinks 
 of her and loves her. Therefore, if Jack had 
 
 made no advances however, it is idle to 
 
 talk of advances : such a man as Jack doth not 
 make advances : they are for cooler and more 
 cautious men ; he lands, charges, and carries 
 by storm the fortress which expected to be 
 besieged by well-known rules. 
 
 1^0 w, as she sat there watching the coals 
 glowing in the fire, Bess suddenly started and 
 her heart ceased to beat, for at the door she 
 heard a step. She remembered that step after 
 six long years ; and the latch Avas lifted, and 
 Jack himself came in — a thing she had not so 
 much as ventured to hope, though she expected 
 that he might in a day or two call to see her 
 father, if he should still remember his former 
 instructor. 
 
 She sprang to her feet, half-afraid, yet 
 rejoicing. 
 
 u 2
 
 292 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 ' Bess ! ' he cried, hoarsely. ' You had not 
 forgotten ine ? ' 
 
 He was dressed now, shaven, and washed ; 
 a tall and handsome man, though pale and 
 somewhat hollow in the cheek. 
 
 ' Bess ! ' he repeated, holding out both 
 hands, ' have you nothing to say to me .^ ' 
 
 ' Oh, Jack ! ' she whispered timidly. But 
 now she was trembling, and really afraid of 
 him, because there was a look in his eyes 
 which frightened her ; a strange look it is, 
 which painters, for the most part, have failed 
 to catch ; it is one Avhich makes the eyes soft 
 and e^lowin^ ; it is the look of love and lonc^- 
 insr. Bess had never seen that look, and it 
 frightened her. 
 
 'Jack,' she said, 'shall I go and look for 
 Mher?' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' he answered, ' you knew me, Bess ! ' 
 His voice was husky. 'All the rest had for- 
 gotten me ; but you knew me. Look for your 
 father? Not yet, Bess! Not yet! Oh, Bess!' He 
 said no more, but caught her hands, drew her 
 towards him, and kissed her a thousand times. .
 
 VERY WELL THEN 293 
 
 Then, in a moment, all her love went out 
 to ]nm. She gave him all her heart. Thence- 
 forward she was no longer afraid of him ; yet 
 she was his servant and his slave, though lie 
 called her mistress. 
 
 'My dear,' he said presently, 'let me look 
 at my sweetheart. Nay, the firelight wull do to 
 light those eyes ; no need of a candle. Oh, the 
 sweet flice ! And what a tall girl she is ! Is 
 it the fireli^it.or her cheeks, or is she blushinir 
 because her lover hath kissed her? And oh, 
 the rosy lips ! Kiss me, Bess. Kiss me, and 
 tell me that you love me. My dear, I had 
 forgotten no one at home — no one ; but until 
 you caught my hands to-day, I did not know 
 how much I loved you. And now, tell me, 
 pretty, hast thou sometimes thought of Jack .^ ' 
 
 * dh, yes,' she told him. ' I have never 
 forgotten, never ; and I knew you were not 
 drowned, whatever they said, and Mr. Brinjes 
 always declared that some day you would come 
 home again. Often and often have I gone to 
 Philadelphy and inquired of her concerning a 
 young sailor — meaning you, Jack — but I did
 
 294 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 not tell her ^vlio it was, and always her reply 
 was that he was safe, and would come home 
 again, though to be sure, she said, there were 
 dangers in the way. She is a proper witch, 
 and knows. But, oh ! Jack, go away ; this is 
 foolishness ; you must not kiss me any more, 
 because you are a gentleman, and I am only a 
 simple girl, and the daughter of a plain man. 
 You must not talk of love to me ; you must 
 not think of me. Jack. I know you would not 
 laugh at me, and mock me ; but you must not 
 thhik of me. Jack. Why, there are fine ladies 
 in plenty who would die for love of you ! ' 
 
 ' And could you die for love of me, Bess ? 
 Oh ! how could I live so long without thee ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, Jack ! ' she murmured, laying her 
 head upon his shoulder, ' I would rather die 
 of love for you than live for the love of some- 
 one else ! and oh ! if you left off loving me I 
 should sit down and pray to die at once.' 
 
 He kissed her again — I know not how 
 many times he kissed her — telling her, which 
 was quite true, because his thoughts ran not 
 that way, that he cared not a fig for all the
 
 VERY WELL THEN 295 
 
 fine ladies in London town, with tlieir nimb}'- 
 namby, piminy w^ays, and tlieir lioops and 
 paint ; but lie loved an honest girl with roses 
 of her own in her cheeks, who would love him 
 in return. And so their pretty love-talk went 
 on, with thee and thou, and kisses sweet as 
 honey to this girl, who knew not how or wdiy 
 she should conceal her j 03^ and her love. 
 
 ' I never knew,' Bess told me afterwards, 
 ' no, I never knew what happiness could be 
 until I sat that evening with my sweetheart's 
 arms round my waist, and my face upon his 
 shoulder, so that he could kiss me as often as 
 he pleased and whisper that he loved me. Oh, 
 why — why should he love me ; he so handsome 
 and so splendid, and I so simple a maid? 
 What are a girl's good looks compared with a 
 man's ? And how should he be able to love 
 one who is not a gentlewoman — he who might, 
 had he chosen, have married a countess ? ' 
 
 When he left her, which was all too soon, 
 because the Admiral would be expecting him, 
 the girl fell upon her knees and prayed. This 
 was a thing (she confessed it to me herself)
 
 296 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 which she had never done before in her hfe, 
 .except in church, and according to the Forms 
 contained in the Book of Common Prayer. If 
 one may venture so to speak of a Book wliich 
 hath engaged the thoughts and kbours of 
 learned and pious men since the foundation of 
 the Church — I mean the Book of Common 
 Prayer— there is one unfortunate omission in 
 its forms : it provides, that is to say, for all 
 the other great events in life — namely. Birth, 
 Baptism, Marriage, the Arrival of Children, 
 Sickness, and Death ; but there is no Form of 
 Prayer for the Betrothal of a man and a maid. 
 Yet there are many appropriate Lessons that 
 might be taken for it from the Old and New 
 Testament ; and there are many grateful and 
 joyful Psalms ; and there are love-sick verses — 
 better, surely, were never written — especially 
 in the Song of Solomon ; and, without doubt, 
 if ever there were occasion for prayer and 
 praise, it is when a pair of lovers promise in 
 private what they will presently promise in the 
 sight of the congregation. Bess, poor chikl, 
 knew no prayer fit for the occasion ; but she
 
 VERY WELL THEN 297 
 
 knelt upon the floor and with tears she thanked 
 God for the safe return of her lover, and im- 
 plored Him to extend His conthmal protection 
 over him. 
 
 When Mr. Westmoreland came home at 
 half-past eight, he was astonislied to find that 
 his daughter had forgotten to put out the bread 
 and cheese and beer. Heard one ever of house- 
 wife forgetting to lay the supper ? And though 
 he talked about nothini]^ but Jack Easterbrook 
 — his unexampled sufferings and his wonderful 
 and providential preservation — this strange 
 daughter of his was so cold and unfeeling 
 about her old playfellow that she hardly said 
 a word, but made haste to go to bed, where 
 she was removed from her father's chatter, and 
 could lie contentedly awake all night long, her 
 foolish heart beating with the joy of this great 
 happiness.
 
 298 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 JACK ASHORE. 
 
 HE next day, accompanied by tlie 
 Admiral and Captain Petherick, 
 Jack went to the Navy Office in 
 Seething Lane to report himself. 
 And here began trouble he did not expect. 
 For, seeing that they had long since written off 
 the ship as cast away, and her company as 
 dead, at first it appeared as if Jack had lost his 
 seniority for certain, even if he had not been 
 removed from the King's service. The latter 
 view was stoutly maintained by the clerks, wdio 
 argued that if a man has been written off as 
 dead, he must be dead, or else — a thing impos- 
 sible and absurd, if not treasonable — the Navy 
 Office must be charged with error ; so that, if 
 he should afterwards be so rash as to return,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 299 
 
 he must either be considered out of the service, 
 or must begin again at the bottom of the 
 ladder ; otherwise their books would have to 
 be rewritten ; very likely the Estimates must 
 be amended, and, perhaps, even a new audit 
 undertaken. There was much correspondence 
 on this subject carried on between the various 
 departments ; and, for aught I know, it may 
 still be going on. While it was still in agita- 
 tion, they began to send him about, like a ball 
 at the game of cricket, from one office to 
 anotlier. First they sent him to the Surveyor's 
 Department, which required him to make a 
 return of the ship's stores and their expenditure 
 up to the conclusion of the voyage ; and asked 
 him, also, to produce the purser's, bo's'n's, and 
 carpenter's accounts, the muster-book and the 
 log-book, these books being alw^ays, by regula- 
 tion, required of the Captain on his return. 
 The clerks in tlie Navy Office, who receive 
 fifty pounds a year, and live at ten, or even 
 twenty, times that rate in w^ar time — thus 
 showing how an honest man may prosper 
 merely by the handling of ship's books and
 
 300 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 the passing of the Captain's papers — gave this 
 young officer, from whose handling no profit 
 could be obtained for themselves, as much 
 trouble as Jacks-in-ofhce possibly can ; and, 
 being themselves bound and tied by all kinds 
 of rules, they are able to hamper grievously 
 any officer who doth not first grease their 
 palms. 
 
 Next, Avhen Jack expected to receive tlie 
 six years' pay which was certainly due to him, 
 there was trouble with the Comptroller's De- 
 partment, which contended that, as he had not 
 served for more than two years, he w^as entitled 
 to no more than so much pay, and that only 
 when it could be proved that he had served to 
 the satisfaction of the Captain, wdio, Ave know, 
 was dead and gone ; and that, as regards the 
 four years of w^andering and captivity, they 
 must not count as service at all. 
 
 Thirdly, when Jack asked permission to 
 pass his examination in seamanship for Lieu- 
 tenant's rank, it was objected by the clerks of 
 the Secretary's Department, first, that he had 
 not, in accordance with the regulations, put in
 
 VERY WELL THEN 301 
 
 his log-books or journals ; secondly, that he 
 could not sliow the certificate of the Captain ; 
 and, thiixlly, that he had not served for the six 
 years required by the rules of the service. At 
 all these vexatious delays Jack lost his temper, 
 and would, in the Kavy Office itself, give the 
 clerks, in good fo'ks'le English, his opinion as 
 to their motives and their honesty, which, of 
 course, exasperated these gentlemen, and made 
 them stand out still more stiffly for the letter of 
 the law. 
 
 Now, while these things were under con- 
 sideration, the Commissioners themselves, being 
 informed of what had happened, sent for Jack 
 and examined him personally concerning the 
 ship's course, the discoveries she had made, the 
 natural riches of the Islands among which he 
 had sailed, and the possibility of establishing 
 settlements and posts upon them which might 
 prove effective in restraining the insolence of 
 the Spanish, and in preventing the establishment 
 of the French power in those regions. Finally, 
 they instructed him to draw up, without further 
 delay, a Eeport upon the voyage, as full as his
 
 302 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 memory would allow, for the information of the 
 Commissioners and the Government, containing 
 all that he could remember of the course, and 
 what he had observed concerning those islands, 
 and especially on the force of the Spaniards on 
 the South American shores ; and, wdiicli Avas 
 no doubt gall and wormwood to the clerks, 
 my Lords the Commissioners ivere graciously 
 pleased to order that the rules of the service 
 should in this case be suspended, and that, in 
 consideration of Mr. Easterbrook's previous good 
 character, and undoubted sufferings after the 
 wreck of his ship — for which he could not be 
 held in any w^ay accountable — his seniority 
 should be restored to him, his years of wander- 
 ing and captivity should be all counted as years 
 of service, and that he should therefore receive 
 full pay for the whole six years of service as 
 midshipman on board a lirst-rate — namely, at 
 two pounds five shillings a month, which made 
 the handsome sum of one hundred and sixty-two 
 pounds ; and, lastly, that he should be per- 
 mitted, on passing his examination, to assume 
 the rank and uniform of Lieutenant, with the
 
 VERY WELL THE A 303 
 
 assurance of a commission to a ship as soon as 
 it was possible to find one for liim. This pro- 
 mise was given him so gravely, and by so great 
 a personage, that Jack placed the most certain 
 trust in it. 
 
 It Avas easier for Jack to pass his examina- 
 tion in seamanship and navigation, and to put 
 on his new uniform, than to write the Eeport 
 asked of him ; for he had never the pen of a 
 ready writer, nor had lie the least knowledge 
 of the art of composition ; he had forgotten how 
 to spell even simple words, having been deprived 
 of books for four years ; and he had almost 
 forgotten how to write. He therefore, by the 
 Admiral's advice, sought the help of my father, 
 who questioned him minutely on every point ; 
 and then, with the assistance of the charts, drew 
 Tip, with his own hand, the required Eeport ; 
 though, with pardonable license, it purported 
 to be written by none other than Mr. Easter- 
 brook. It contained all the information which 
 the author could elicit by careful and repeated 
 examination, and, if published, would have 
 proved a work of the greatest curiosity and in-
 
 304 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 struction, embellished with the charm of learned 
 and scholarly style which was so mucli admired 
 in my father's sermons, enriched with reflec- 
 tions proper for the various scenes and adven- 
 tures through which the (supposed) writer 
 passed, and made useful for meditation by 
 scriptural references. The Eeport w^as accom- 
 panied by a chart showing part of the western 
 coast of New Holland, with that portion of the 
 Pacific Ocean lying south of the Equator over 
 wdiich the ' Countess of Dorset ' had sailed. Tliis 
 part of the sea was depicted, by the hand whicli 
 drew the chart, as covered witli islands, on both 
 sides of the ship's way, lying as thick as daisies 
 on a grass border. Mr. Westmoreland it was 
 who drew the chart ; but he was advised and 
 assisted by Jack himself, and by Mr. Brinjes. 
 He painted the water blue, and the islands and 
 coasts red. Another hand — I say not whose — 
 decorated those parts of the ocean where no 
 ship hath yet sailed, and nothing is yet known, 
 w^ith spouting wdiales, dolphins at play, sea- 
 lions sporting on rocks, and canoes filled with 
 black men. The same hand designed and
 
 VERY WELL THEN 305 
 
 painted in the northern part of the ocean, off 
 the Island of Cahfornia, the hvely representa- 
 tion of an eno'ao-ement between the e^reat seven- 
 decked Spanish galleon from Manila and a small 
 English vessel, the former striking her colours, 
 and the latter flying the flag of her country, 
 and not the ' Jolly Eoger,' as Mr. Brinjes desired. 
 In the left-hand corner Mr. Westmoreland drew 
 the mariner's compass, below which he wrote a 
 respectful dedication to my Lords the Commis- 
 sioners, signed with the name of John Easter- 
 brook, midshipman on board the ' Countess of 
 Dorset.' The whole was finished and adorned 
 with many flourishes, and in tlie Penman's 
 finest style. He was so proud of his work 
 that, I believe, he expected nothhig less than 
 a public commendation of it in the 'London 
 Gazette,' with a handsome reward in money. 
 
 Strange to say, this Eeport, which we hoped 
 would have been published by order of tlie 
 Admiralty, was received in silence, and was 
 never afterwards noticed at all. I know not 
 what became of it, for Jack obtained no acknoAv- 
 ledgment of it, nor was any praise or reward, 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 3o6 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 that I ever heard of, given to the Penman, and 
 I suspect that the Eeport has never been read 
 at all, but still lies on the shelves of the JSTavy 
 Office. But, in truth, the wreck of the ' Countess 
 of Dorset ' made little stir at the time, because 
 this intelhgence arrived when the public mind 
 was greatly agitated by the depredations of the 
 French privateers which were now sweeping 
 the Channel and picking up our merchantmen, 
 and with the efforts made by the Government 
 to protect our coasts and the seas, so that the 
 loss of this sJiip more than three years before, 
 even in so lamentable a manner, affected people 
 little. All this done, however, Jack returned 
 to Deptford, taking up his quarters with the 
 Admiral, and in very good spirits, being well 
 assured that before long he would have his 
 commission, and that there was going to be a 
 long and spirited war, the French having begun 
 with great vigour, and being already flushed 
 with success., so that they w^ould take a great 
 deal of beating. He had also jingling in his 
 pocket — no sweeter music, while it lasts — the 
 whole of his pay for six years. With this
 
 VERY WELL THEN 307 
 
 money lie was enabled to purcliase a new outfit 
 for himself, having landed, as we have seen, 
 with nothing in the world — no, not even so 
 much as a shirt. However, he very soon pro- 
 cured a sea-chest, and filled it once more with 
 instruments, books, and a new kit, including 
 his Lieutenant's uniform, in which it must be 
 confessed he looked as gallant and handsome an 
 officer as ever put on the blue and white, with 
 none of the effeminacy and affected daintiness 
 which too often spoil the young soldier as well 
 as the London beau. Eather did Jack incline 
 to the opposite vice, being, as his best friends 
 must admit, quite deficient in his graces, ignorant 
 of polite manners and conversation, unused to 
 the society of ladies, and, among men, knowing 
 but httle of Avhat some have called the coffee- 
 house manner — that, I mean, which one learns 
 by intercourse with strangers and general com- 
 pany, in which it is necessary to concede as well 
 as demand, to yield as well as to maintain. 
 Yet no swaggerer, or offender against the peace 
 of quiet men, though he certainly walked with 
 his head in the air, as if tlie whole world 
 
 X 2
 
 3o8 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 belonged to him, and, as if it was his right, 
 took the wall of everyone, unless an old man, a 
 cripple, or a woman, and that with so resolute 
 an air that even the bully-captains of the street 
 — who are always ready to shoulder and elbow 
 peaceful men into the gutter, and, on a mild 
 remonstrance, to clap hand to sword-hilt, and 
 swear blood and murder — these worthies, I say, 
 stepped meekly, and without a w^ord, into the 
 mud when they beheld this young sea-lion 
 marching towai'ds them, over six feet in height, 
 w^ith shoulders and legs like a porter's for 
 breadth and strength, splendid in his blue coat 
 with gold-laced hat, his crimson sash, his white 
 silk stockinors, and white breeches. One thinoj 
 I commended in him, that he wore his own 
 hair, having it powdered decently, and tied in 
 a ba^x with a black ribbon, a fashion which 
 especially becomes a sailor, first, because a wig 
 at sea, wdiere everything should be taut and 
 trim, must be troublesome ; and secondly, 
 because if it be blown overboard what is a man 
 to do for another P 
 
 Fortunately for the street captains, Jack
 
 VERY WELL THEN 309 
 
 went seldom to London, wliere tlie noise of the 
 carts and the crowd in the streets offended him. 
 He loved not to be jostled. And the amuse- 
 ments of the town pleased hmi not. Once we 
 went together to see the play at Drury Lane ; 
 the piece was a comedy, very ingenious and 
 witty, representing modern manners, or that 
 part of modern manners which belongs to the 
 nobility, where, I suppose, there is always 
 intrigue, and the conversation always sparkles 
 with epigram ; the meaner kind know not tliis 
 kind of life. It is pleasant to look on, and the 
 house laughed and applauded. But Jack sat 
 glum, and presently grew impatient and went 
 out, and would have no more of it. 
 
 ' Why,' he said, ' call this a play of 
 modern life ? If a man were to say to me 
 one-half of what these people continually say 
 to each other — one calHmr the other, though 
 in fine words, ass, rogue, liar, or clown — I 
 would have cleared the whole stage long ago. 
 Where is the English spirit gone ? Let us 
 get away.' 
 
 I asked him whether he did not think the
 
 310 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 theatre made a fine siolit, with the beautiful 
 dresses of the ladies. But eveu this did not 
 please him. 
 
 ' Dresses ? ' he said, ' why, they are designed 
 for no other purpose than to make the poor 
 souls hideous. Hoops, powder and paint, hair 
 dressed up — I should like, my lad, to show 
 you beside them a bevy of South Sea Island 
 girls, barefooted, Avitli a simple -petticoat tied 
 round them, and their long hair flying loose. 
 Then would you understand how a woman 
 should look. I know a girl ' — he checked 
 himself — ' well, put her, dressed as she is in a 
 box at the theatre, and she would be like the 
 full moon anions the twinklino- stars.' 
 
 I might have replied (which is, I suppose, 
 tlie truth) that women have no thought of 
 form, and cannot understand that curve which 
 Hogarth has drawn. Therefore, they under- 
 stand not why men love a woman's figure, and 
 regard Fashion as nothing more than an 
 exhibition of costly and beautiful stuffs, silk, 
 lace, and embroidery, to set off which the figure 
 serves as a frame or machine, on which they
 
 VERY WELL THEN 311 
 
 limy be hung. Otlierwise women would strive 
 for a fashion at once becoming; and fitted to 
 the figure, which they would then never alter, 
 as the Greeks retained always the same simple 
 mode. 
 
 With these views as to ladies' dress, it is 
 easy to understand that Jack found very little 
 pleasure in visiting Eanelagh, or Yauxhall, 
 thou2^h the freedom of Bai]fnifzse Wells was 
 more to his taste. Nor did he deli2;ht in the 
 coffee-houses. I took him to the Smyrna, 
 where the politicians resort ; and to the Eain- 
 bow, where tlie wits and templars are found ; 
 and to the White Lion, Wych Street, where 
 they have concerts and women who sicg. But 
 he found the conversation insipid and tlie 
 manners affected. 
 
 There was only one place of pubhc resort 
 which he heartily a])proved. It was the 
 famous mughouse in Long Lane, whither one 
 evening we went, Mr. J3rooking, the painter, 
 taking us thither. It is frequented by many 
 brethren of the brush, who for some reason are 
 always more inchncd to mirth and gaiety than
 
 312 THE WORLD IVEAT 
 
 the sober mercliant. In this room there are 
 fiddles and a harp : the room is divided into 
 small tables which drink to each other ; a 
 president calls for a song, and one song is 
 followed by another till midnight, the company 
 drinking to each other from table to table, 
 some taking strong beer, some flip, some rnmbo, 
 and some pmich. Jack admired greatly the 
 freedom of conversation, which had nothing of 
 the cofiee-house stiffness ; the heartiness with 
 which one table would drink about with 
 another ; the tobacco and the singing, for 
 which this mughouse was then famous, and all 
 with so many jokes and so mucli laughter, that 
 it was a pleasure to think there was so much 
 happiness left in the world. 
 
 But most of his time Jack spent at 
 Deptford : his mornings in the Yard among tlie 
 ships, and his evenings at the Sir John FalstafT 
 with the Admiral, or in the Officers' Eoom at 
 the Gun Tavern, whither the Lieutenants and 
 the Midshipmen resorted for tobacco and 
 punch. 
 
 There remained the afternoon, which, had
 
 VEJ^V WELL THEN 313 
 
 he cliosen, lie might have spent with the 
 Admiral's lady and Castilla. 
 
 * Our conversation,' said that sweet girl, 
 ' hath no attraction for Jack. He loves sailors 
 better than ladies, and tobacco better than tea ; 
 and he would rather hear the fiddle than the 
 harpsichord, and the bawling by a brother- 
 officer of a sea-song than a simple ditty from 
 me.' 
 
 I suppose that Castilla was naturally a 
 little hurt that Jack showed no admiration for 
 those accomplishments, of which she was justly 
 proud. No one played more sweetly, or sang 
 more prettily, the songs which she knew than 
 Castilla. Every girl likes a little attention ; 
 but this young sea-bear gave Castilla none. 
 Every girl likes to think that her conversation 
 is pleasing to the men : Jack showed no plea- 
 sure at all in Castilla's talk. He w^as thinking, 
 though this we knew not yet, of another girl, 
 whose charms bewitched him and made him 
 insensible to any other woman. 
 
 At this period of his life it is certain that 
 Jack loved not the conversation of ladies.
 
 314 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 finding it perhaps insipid after the fo'ks'le talk 
 he liad lately experienced in the French prison 
 and his savage hfe among the Indians. ' If 
 a man,' he said, ' must needs associate with 
 women at all, give me a woman ivho is not 
 squeamish over a damn or two, and lets a man 
 tell his story through his own way, without 
 holding np her hands to her face and crying 
 lie upon him for naughty words ; and one who 
 can mix him a glass of punch — ay, and help 
 him to drink it — and w^on't begin to cough 
 directly his pipe of tobacco is lit. As for your 
 cards, and your music, and your drinking of 
 tea, it is all very well for landsmen. I dare say 
 you like handing about the cups for Madame 
 and passing tlie cream and sugar to the young 
 misses.' 
 
 'You can take your tea as tlie Admiral 
 takes his, Jack, w^ith a dram of rosa solis 
 after it.' 
 
 ' What is it at best, but a medicine ? Why 
 not ask people to come and drink pliysic to- 
 gether ? Why not ask Mr. Brinjes to prescribe, 
 as he docs, his tea of betony, speedwell, sago,
 
 VERY WELL THEN 315 
 
 or camomile ? Or, if you must drink messes, 
 there is chocolate, as the Spaniards have it. 
 But as for tea, with the strummmg of a harpsi- 
 chord, and playing at cards for counters, and 
 ladies talking fiddle-faddle, and Castilla ask- 
 ing you if you like this, or you would rather 
 choose the other, I confess, my lad, I cannot 
 endure it.' 
 
 'Castilla, Jack? Surely, she is to your 
 taste ? ' 
 
 ' Why, as for that, she is a pretty, delicate 
 slip of a girl ; she has got soft cheeks, it is 
 true, and brown hair. Give me a tall, strong 
 woman, who knows lier own mind and what 
 she likes, and likes it in earnest. Give me a 
 woman with a spice of the Devil.' 
 
 ' Well, Jack,' I said, surprised that he was 
 not already in love with Castilla, ' there are 
 plenty of women in Deptford who are all Devil, 
 if they can tempt you.' 
 
 He had got already, though I knew it not, 
 a woman who possessed her ftdl share of the 
 clement he so much desired. 
 
 In the afternoons, therefore, he did not court
 
 3i6 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 the society of Castilla, but he went back to his 
 old custom, and sat for the most part in the 
 apothecary's parlour : not so much for the 
 pleasure which he took in the conversation of 
 that wortliy and experienced gentleman, as that 
 in this way he could enjoy the company of 
 another person, who generally came in accident- 
 ally about the same time, but through the 
 garden gate and the back door, while the 
 Lieutenant marched in boldly, for all the world 
 to see, through the sliop. As Mr. Brinjes slept 
 for the greater part of the afternoon, these two 
 could say what they pleased to each other 
 without fear of being overheard. And nobody 
 so much as suspected that they were in this 
 room except the assistant, who stood all day at 
 the counter rolling bohises, pounding drugs, 
 and mixing nauseous draughts. One might 
 have chosen a sweeter smelling place for love- 
 making, but then it had the look of a cabin, 
 and something of its smell, and Jack found no 
 fault with it. 
 
 ' We talked,' Bess told me, in the time when 
 her only pleasure was to think and talk about
 
 VERY WELL THEN 317 
 
 Jack, and when there was no one but myself 
 with whom she could speak about him, ' We 
 talked all the afternoon in whispers so as not 
 to wake up Mr. Brinjes, who slept among his 
 pillows. We sat in the window seat, my head 
 on his breast, and his fingers played with my 
 hair, and sometimes he kissed me. Jack told 
 me all he was ^oino- to do : he was to ^Qi his 
 commission, and i^o fiditin^^ ; he would cfo for 
 choice where there were the hardest knocks ; 
 they would make a vast deal of prize money, 
 and he would get promoted, and made 
 Captain, with twelve pounds a month, and 
 then, when he came home, he would marry 
 me.' 
 
 'And did Mr. Brinjes,' I asked, 'never 
 wake lip, and interrupt tliis pastime P ' 
 
 She laughed. 'Why, when he woke up, 
 he would say, " Kiss her again. Jack. She is 
 the best girl in Deptford. I have saved her for 
 thee. Kiss her again." He has always been 
 kind to me, and Avould never believe that Jack 
 was drowned, and would still be talking of him, 
 which was the reason why I knew him again
 
 3i8 THE WORLD WENT 
 
 when lie came back. And then, Mr. Brinjes 
 would sit up and talk about his treasure, and 
 how he shall some day fit out a ship, and we 
 are all to go sailing after the treasure, which is 
 to be my marriage portion, when it is recovered, 
 so that Jack will marry, after all, the greatest 
 heiress in England.' 
 
 These things I heard, I say, after Jack went 
 to sea again, and while Bess, like so many 
 women, sat at home waiting and praying for 
 her lover's safe return. All that time, no one 
 knew, or so much as suspected, what was 
 going on. Otherwise, I fear, hard things 
 would have been said of poor Bess by those 
 of her own sex. Men, in such matters, 
 judge each other more leniently, and with 
 less suspicion. 
 
 If, now, Jack had not been first recognised 
 by Bess ; if he had not gone to see her the first 
 day of his arrival ; if — but what doth it profit 
 to say that if such and such things liad not 
 happened other things would have turned out 
 differently ? It is vain and foolish talk. Our 
 lives are not governed by blind chance ; and
 
 VERY IV ELL THEN 319 
 
 we must not doubt that, for some wise end 
 whicli we know not and are not expected to 
 know, or even to guess, all that happens to us 
 is ordered and settled for us beforeliand. 
 
 EXD OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 rni.XTED BY 
 
 SrOTTISWOODE AXD CO., NEW-STREET EQUARE 
 
 LONDON
 
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