The Pilot (24 page)

"You are a soldier, and I am a soldier. That you are a soldier, my
orderly could tell; for the dog has both seen a campaign, and smelt
villanous saltpetre, when compounded according to a wicked invention;
but it required the officer to detect the officer. Privates do not wear
such linen as this, which seemeth to me an unreasonably cool attire for
the season; nor velvet stocks, with silver buckles; nor is there often
the odorous flavor of sweet-scented pomatum to be discovered around
their greasy locks. In short, thou art both soldier and officer."

"I confess it," said Manual; "I hold the rank of captain, and shall
expect the treatment of one."

"I think I have furnished you with wine fit for a general," returned
Borroughcliffe; "but have your own way. Now, it would be apparent to
men, whose faculties had not been rendered clear by such cordials as
this dwelling aboundeth with, that when you officers journey through the
island, clad in the uniform incognitorum, which in your case means the
marine corps, that something is in the wind of more than usual moment.
Soldiers owe their allegiance to their prince, and next to him to war,
women, and wine. Of war, there is none in the realm; of women, plenty;
but wine, I regret to say, that is, good wine, grows both scarce and
dear. Do I speak to the purpose, comrade?"

"Proceed," said Manual, whose eyes were not less attentive than his
ears, in a hope to discover whether his true character were understood.

"En avant! in plain English, forward march! Well, then, the difficulty
lies between women and wine; which, when the former are pretty, and the
latter rich, is a very agreeable sort of an alternative. That it is not
wine of which you are in quest, I must believe, my comrade captain, or
you would not go on the adventure in such shabby attire. You will excuse
me, but who would think of putting anything better than their Port
before a man in a pair of tarred trousers? No! no! Hollands, green-and-
yellow Hollands, is a potation good enough to set before one of the
present bearing."

"And yet I have met with him who has treated me to the choicest of the
south-side Madeira!"

"Know you the very side from which the precious fluid comes! That looks
more in favor of the wine. But, after all, woman, dear capricious woman,
who one moment fancies she sees a hero in regimentals, and the next a
saint in a cassock; and who always sees something admirable in a suitor,
whether he be clad in tow or velvet—woman is at the bottom of this
mysterious masquerading. Am I right, comrade!"

By this time Manual had discovered that he was safe, and he returned to
the conversation with a revival of all his ready wits, which had been
strangely paralyzed by his previous disorder in the region of the
throat. First bestowing a wicked wink on his companion, and a look that
would have outdone the wisest aspect of Solomon, he replied;

"Ah! woman has much to answer for!"

"I knew it," exclaimed Borroughcliffe; "and this confession only
confirms me in the good opinion I have always entertained of myself. If
his majesty has any particular wish to close this American business, let
him have a certain convention burnt, and a nameless person promoted, and
we shall see! But, answer as you love truth; is it a business of holy
matrimony, or a mere dalliance with the sweets of Cupid?"

"Of honest wedlock," said Manual, with an air as serious as if Hymen
already held him in his fetters.

"'Tis honest! Is there money?"

"Is there money?" repeated Manual, with a sort of contemptuous echo.
"Would a soldier part with his liberty, but with his life, unless the
chains were made of gold?"

"That's the true military doctrine!" cried the other; "faith, you have
some discretion in your amphibious corps, I find! But why this disguise?
are the 'seniors grave,' as well as 'potent and reverend?' Why this
disguise, I again ask?"

"Why this disguise!" repeated Manual, coolly: "Is there any such thing
as love in your regiment without disguise? With us, it is a regular
symptom of the disease."

"A most just and discreet description of the passion, my amphibious
comrade!" said the English officer; "and yet the symptoms in your case
are attended by some very malignant tokens. Does your mistress love
tar?"

"No; but she loveth me; and, of course, whatever attire I choose to
appear in."

"Still discreet and sagacious! and yet only a most palpable feint to
avoid my direct attack. You have heard of such a place as Gretna Green,
a little to the north of this, I dare say, my aquatic comrade. Am I
right?"

"Gretna Green!" said Manual, a little embarrassed by his ignorance;
"some parade-ground, I suppose?"

"Ay, for those who suffer under the fire of Master Cupid. A parade-
ground! well, there is some artful simplicity in that! But all will not
do with an old campaigner. It is a difficult thing to impose on an old
soldier, my water-battery. Now listen and answer; and you shall see what
it is to possess a discernment—therefore deny nothing. You are in
love?"

"I deny nothing," said Manual, comprehending at once that this was his
safest course.

"Your mistress is willing, and the money is ready, but the old people
say, halt!"

"I am still mute!"

"Tis prudent. You say march—Gretna Green is the object; and your flight
is to be by water!"

"Unless I can make my escape by water, I shall never make it," said
Manual, with another sympathetic movement with his hand to his throat.

"Keep mute; you need tell me nothing. I can see into a mystery that is
as deep as a well, to-night. Your companions are hirelings; perhaps your
shipmates; or men to pilot you on this expedition!"

"One is my shipmate, and the other is our pilot," said Manual, with more
truth than usual.

"You are well provided. One thing more, and I shall become mute in my
turn. Does she whom you seek lie in this house?"

"She does not; she lies but a short distance from this place; and I
should be a happy fellow could I but once more put foot—"

"Eyes on her. Now listen, and you shall have your wish. You possess the
ability to march yet, which, considering the lateness of the hour, is no
trifling privilege; open that window—is it possible to descend from
it?"

Manual eagerly complied, but he turned from the place in disappointment.

"It would be certain death to attempt the leap. The devil only could
escape from it."

"So I should think," returned Borroughcliffe, dryly. "You must be
content to pass for that respectable gentleman for the rest of your
days, in St. Ruth's Abbey. For through that identical hole must you wing
your flight on the pinions of love."

"But how! The thing is impossible."

"In imagination only. There is some stir, a good deal of foolish
apprehension, and a great excess of idle curiosity, among certain of
the tenants of this house, on your account. They fear the rebels, who,
we all know, have not soldiers enough to do their work neatly at home,
and who, of course, would never think of sending any here. You wish to
be snug—I wish to serve a brother in distress. Through that window you
must be supposed to fly—no matter how; while by following me you can pass
the sentinel, and retire peaceably, like any other mortal, on your own
two stout legs."

This was a result that exceeded all that Manual had anticipated from
their amicable but droll dialogue; and the hint was hardly given, before
he threw on the garments that agitation had before rendered such
encumbrances; and in less time than we have taken to relate it, the
marine was completely equipped for his departure. In the mean time,
Captain Borroughcliffe raised himself to an extremely erect posture,
which he maintained with the inflexibility of a rigid martinet. When he
found himself established on his feet, the soldier intimated to his
prisoner that he was ready to proceed. The door was instantly opened by
Manual, and together they entered the gallery.

"Who comes there?" cried the sentinel, with a vigilance and vigor that
he intended should compensate for his previous neglect of duty.

"Walk straight, that he may see you," said Borroughcliffe, with much
philosophy.

"Who goes there?" repeated the sentinel, throwing his musket to a poise,
with a rattling sound that echoed along the naked walls.

"Walk crooked," added Borroughcliffe, "that if he fire he may miss."

"We shall be shot at, with this folly," muttered Manual.

"We are friends, and your officer is one of us."

"Stand, friends—advance, officer, and give the counter-sign," cried the
sentinel.

"That is much easier said than done," returned his captain; "forward,
Mr. Amphibious, you can walk like a postman—move to the front, and
proclaim the magical word, 'loyalty;' 'tis a standing countersign, ready
furnished to my hands by mine hosts the colonel; your road is then clear
before you—but hark—"

Manual made an eager step forward, when, recollecting himself, he
turned, and added: "My assistants, the seamen! I can do nothing without
them."

"Lo! the keys are in the doors, ready for my admission," said the
Englishman; "turn them, and bring out your forces."

Quick as thought, Manual was in the room of Griffith, to whom he briefly
communicated the situation of things, when he reappeared in the passage,
and then proceeded on a similar errand to the room of the Pilot.

"Follow, and behave as usual," he whispered; "say not a word, but trust
all to me."

The Pilot arose, and obeyed these instructions without asking a
question, with the most admirable coolness.

"I am now ready to proceed," said Manual, when they had joined
Borroughcliffe.

During the short time occupied in these arrangements, the sentinel and
his captain had stood looking at each other with great military
exactitude, the former ambitious of manifesting his watchfulness, the
latter awaiting the return of the marine. The captain now beckoned to
Manual to advance and give the countersign.

"Loyalty," whispered Manual, when he approached the sentinel. But the
soldier had been allowed time to reflect; and as he well understood the
situation of his officer, he hesitated to allow the prisoner to pass,
After a moment's pause, he said:

"Advance, friends." At this summons the whole party moved to the point
of his bayonet; when the man continued: "The prisoners have the
countersign, Captain Borroughcliffe, but I dare not let them pass."

"Why not?" asked the captain; "am I not here, sirrah? do you not know
me?"

"Yes, sir, I know your honor, and respect your honor; but I was posted
here by my sergeant, and ordered not to let these men pass out on any
account."

"That's what I call good discipline," said Borroughcliffe, with an
exulting laugh; "I knew the lad would not mind me any more than that he
would obey the orders of that lamp. Here are no slaves of the lamp, my
amphibious comrade; drill ye your marines in this consummate style to
niceties?"

"What means this trifling?" said the Pilot, sternly.

"Ah! I thought I should turn the laugh on you," cried Manual, affecting
to join in the mirth; "we know all these things well, and we practise
them in our corps; but though the sentinel cannot know you, the sergeant
will; so let him be called and orders be given through him to the man on
post, that we may pass out."

"Your throat grows uneasy, I see," said Borroughcliffe; "you crave,
another bottle of the generous fluid. Well, it shall be done. Sentinel,
you can throw up yon window, and give a call to the sergeant."

"The outcry will ruin us," said the Pilot, in a whisper to Griffith.

"Follow me," said the young sailor. The sentinel was turning to execute
the orders of his captain as Griffith spoke, when springing forward, in
an instant he wrenched the musket from his hands; a heavy blow with its
butt felled the astonished soldier to the floor; then, poising his
weapon, Griffith exclaimed:

"Forward! we can clear our own way now!"

"On!" said the Pilot, leaping lightly over the prostrate soldier, a
dagger gleaming in one hand and a pistol presented in the other.

Manual was by his side in an instant, armed in a similar manner; and the
three rushed together from the building, without meeting any one to
oppose their flight.

Borroughcliffe was utterly unable to follow; and so astounded was he by
this sudden violence, that several minutes passed before he was restored
to the use of his speech, a faculty which seldom deserted him. The man
had recovered his senses and his feet, however; and the two stood gazing
at each other in mute condolence. At length the sentinel broke the
silence:

"Shall I give the alarm, your honor?"

"I rather think not, Peters. I wonder if there be any such thing as
gratitude or good-breeding in the marine corps!"

"I hope your honor will remember that I did my duty, and that I was
disarmed while executing your orders."

"I can remember nothing about it, Peters, except that it is rascally
treatment, and such as I shall yet make this amphibious aquatic
gentleman answer for. But lock the door-look as if nothing had happened,
and—"

"Ah! your honor, that is not so easily done as your honor may please to
think. I have not any doubt but there is the print of the breech of a
musket stamped on my back and shoulders, as plainly to be seen as that
light."

"Then look as you please; but hold your peace, sirrah. Here is a crown
to buy a plaster. I heard the dog throw away your musket on the stairs—
go seek it, and return to your post; and when you are relieved, act as
if nothing had happened. I take the responsibility on myself."

The man obeyed; and when he was once more armed, Borroughcliffe, a good
deal sobered by the surprise, made the best of his way to his own
apartment, muttering threats and execrations against the "corps of
marines and the whole race," as he called them, "of aquatic amphibii."