The Adventures of My Cousin Smooth Part 10

Having left Pierce for a time, Smooth, with that resolution so characteristic of his countrymen, wherever found, entered into the codfish business. Transforming himself (after the manner of his uncle Jeff Davis), into a captain of the fis.h.i.+ng schooner Starlight, which said schooner he ran over the treaty line straight into Fox Island, on the coast of Cape Breton, where he proposed making the acquaintance of the inhabitants, and, if possible, a treaty of friends.h.i.+p and commerce. The waters in and about the port were alive with mackerel--the finest, plumpest, fattest, and most willing fish ever seen in any waters. They sported round us, looking clever enough to make all on board the schooner believe they wanted to come on board.

The crew felt like sc.r.a.ping acquaintance with them, favoring them with a hook, and the like; but then there interposed that great bugbear--the treaty line. Hard was it to tell where this line was; it might, for aught to the contrary, be on the top of a wave, upon which we might be tossed, much against Smooth's inclination, far into the unlawful side. Being, however, inside of the line and surrounded by mackerel, one would have supposed the Nova Scotians had been on the alert catching them. The case was just the reverse, for not a Nova Scotiaman was to be seen. To Smooth's mind this was making a law to protect the lazy, something he never approved of, more especially in these days of energy and railroads. A determination was come to, after mature deliberation, that fish there were and fish our boys must have, so you must lend an ear while Smooth relates the manner in which he got them. Deacon Hawkins kept an inn for the entertainment of man and beast. It was not the very best kind of an inn, for it was managed by the deacon's wife, whose parsimony and love of Friday evening meetings had lost her nearly all her guests and driven her children barefoot into the street. On the day following the Starlight's arrival, as luck would have it, a 'political meeting' was to be holden at the Deacon's, when a considerable amount of first-rate drinking was sure to come off. Smooth, being Mr. Pierce's minister in general, was honored with an invitation which he declined in consideration of his anxiety to be among the mackerel. Something must indeed be done for the mackerel; the case was a serious one. Had the Britishers shown a resolution to be among the fish, Smooth had lent them a hand to secure the whole shoal, and then brought them back, merely to avoid the penalty of the British law, and secure the bounty given by ours. Well, the Britishers were all gone to a political meeting, where a noisy politician of the name of Joe Howe, and another of the name of Doyle, having come all the way from Halifax, and brought with them other great men of the political world of Nova Scotia, would relieve themselves of ponderous speeches, to hear which all the old men of the parish would take their promising sons. Smooth never regarded political meetings over highly, and had more than once thought those so earnest in attending them had done much better attending their potato fields. With this opinion made stronger in the present instance, he counselled Mister Split.w.a.ter, the mate, whose logic never was known to be at fault. Split.w.a.ter, agreed that it was expedient to be in pursuit of the fish while the Britishers were attending their political gatherings and prayer-meetings. Mackerel were right knowing fish, he said, and could with good feed be coaxed across the line, and into the waters not held sacred against American hooks by British law. And to this end a goodly amount of bait was ground up; and the wind coming in the quarter most favorable to our movements, canvas was got on the Starlight, and in charge of Split.w.a.ter, who was directed to keep a bright eye on the wars.h.i.+ps, she put to sea like a thing of life dancing with snowy wings over the blue, blue waters. While he was taking care of the fish, Smooth remained on sh.o.r.e, keeping those who attended the political meeting all right, and making a speech or two when called upon.

"To hear the eloquent Joe Howe tell the Nova Scotians what they would be were it not for James Johnson and Toryism was really very amusing. He forgot to tell them that he had no serious objection to being made Colonial Secretary seeing that a nice little salary was attached. When Smooth made his appearance at the political gathering of course no one thought there was any fish-taking going on. Then he endeavored to make the credulous citizens feel free and easy, entertaining them with jokes of a strong kind, and explaining the crude process of electioneering down in Texas and Arkansas. No sooner had the politicians got through their speeches than they retired to what was called an 'open house,' where all good radicals could drink _ad libitum_ and make merry. Smooth was honored with an invitation to join in a few joyous gla.s.ses, but he rather doubted the policy of drinking so much election liquor. It might under certain circ.u.mstances serve the ends of politicians, but never the greater interests of a nation. A drinking man is sure to fool himself in the end, nor can a man serve the interests of the State who neglects his own. But, be it here understood Uncle Sam, there is a philosophical way of applying the practical to make things profitable, which may be carried out with more facility by making oneself cheerful and courteous with those among whom we may be cast. This Smooth always aimed to do.

After a while Smooth calculated how he'd got politics enough; an'

knowin' how Split.w.a.ter was 'commodatin' the mackerel outside the line, he steps down to Deacon Sam Moody's prayer meetin', what they holds at night after the 'lection meetin. Here it was all right; Smooth was just as much of a Christian as anybody could honestly be, and a longer face n.o.body could desire. Smooth, at the Deacon's, was-well known for his pious principles; but the good folk about there had never seen Smooth in an anxious way. Well, the deacon congratulated Smooth on his appearance, his spiritual welfare, his happy prospects of something beyond this. It would have done you good to see the brothers and sisters crowd round him, lookin' so excited 'bout the care of somethin' anybody can take care of without neglectin' business. (We here give Smooth's language in its crude state). It was amazin' to see what an amount of pious a fellow could get into his face, and then get his face into a right focus; but when brother Smalwood invited him to pray! that was shavin' the thing a little too close--more nor a man what was thinking about Split.w.a.ter and the mackerel could shoulder.

Had not a mite of an objection to 'commodatin' the good folks with 'most anything, or puttin' on the longest and seriousest face out doors--a face that would beat the Deacon's; but couldn't go t'other thing. Smooth could rather beat the Deacon on a serious face; but the old hoss was a regular steamboat when it come to exhortations and such things. Wouldn't 'a done to have a brush with the Deacon, without being sure of beating him, for he was mighty egotistical about his prayers. Well, there was no help for it, we must feel kind and happy to see so many happy ones around one, who could not? It was strictly in accordance with Smooth's philosophy to make people as happy as possible, and so he kept asking anxious questions, gettin'

satisfactory answers,--answers that would be sure to make me all straight in the pious, with a day or two's consideration.

"In this way the spirits kept up until the pleasant hour of midnight came; then the Deacon invited me to go home and hang up at his house. It was just the thing for Smooth, but he had to decline twice before he got over the polite so to accept: and then he knew Split was taking the mackerel aboard like sixty. So he went home with the deacon, turned in for the night, and knew nothing more till daylight.

"Now he must disclose how the Starlight and Split got along, coaxing the mackerel with fresh bait, just as General Pierce does the Soft Sh.e.l.ls. Split meets the schooner s.p.u.n.k, Skipper Pluck, afore he begun to get to the line, outside of which he could fish according to law. Split and he were old cronies, and they just _heaves to_, and has a talk about what's best to be done. 'Twarn't long afore they had negotiated the plan, which, when carried out, they were to divide the spoils equal. Seeing how the Britishers, every year, pay over a million pounds sterling for keeping open the fis.h.i.+ng question, driving the fish out of the water with big man-o'-war s.h.i.+ps and steams.h.i.+ps, and making a deal of pleasant fun for a great many fine gentlemen who threaten to swallow a fisherman for taking a fish; and that the United States pay about one-fifth as much for the privilege of sending some of their big s.h.i.+ps to help the Britishers play the genteel, while hoping that stupid diplomacy will long continue to give them the same Opportunity, Split and Pluck reckoned how they'd come a point over the Britishers.

"The great point was to steer clear of the big British steamer, Devastation. Pluck said he seed her steamin' away down to the northward t'other a'ternoon, and so it was agreed that Pluck, with the Pinkey s.p.u.n.k, should run down in her track. If he sighted her in the morning he was just to _play her about_ some, until Split got the mackerel on board. And so, instead of the Devastation going in search of him, the s.p.u.n.k went after her, and, as luck would have it, met her just inside of the treaty line. The s.p.u.n.k pretended to be shying--put on the rags as if he was going to try legs with the Devastation.

Crowdin' steam like all Jehu, down the Devastation came, as if she were going to smash the s.p.u.n.k, and blow her to Daniel's dungeon. Bang!

whang! boomed a gun or two, but seem' how ther' warn't no iron fallin'

about, Pluck reckoned he'd keep her to it a time longer, knowin' in his soul that every mile further he got the Devastation away from the Starlight, so much the better for Split.w.a.ter and the mackerel. It warn't long, afore whir! ziz! ziz! came somethin' what made a mighty splas.h.i.+n', and looked savagarous, square across her stern sheets.

Pluck reckoned how the Britisher had got his dander up, and about cleverest thing would be to round to, seem' how the feller was wastin'

his shot, and sendin' things what might save a body the trouble of puttin' on a night-cap about bedtime. 'Now,' said Pluck, 'the Devastation feels kind a out o' sorts, and 'll just knock the s.p.u.n.k into an apple dumplin';' but she didn't! Well, the skipper and his dandy officers came on board, looking all so s.h.i.+ned up, and vented their indignant feelins' by takin' it all out in a shower of cussin'

that would 'a made yer hair stand on end straight. In a few minutes more, a feller in a monkey jacket, a bra.s.s b.u.t.ton on his hat, and otherwise officially costumed, put on the dignity of the quarter-deck, and out-talked the skipper. 'Now, why the devil didn't you come to when you saw our signal?' says he, with a face of daggers, and looking at Pluck as if he was goin' to spring the main-mast with his teeth.

'Hand up yer papers here--quick, bear a hand! Take off yer hatches, too; you've been fis.h.i.+ng inside of the _line_,' he grumbled out, as quickly as you'd overhaul a chain cable. Pluck bore it like a philosopher, cool and quietly. 'No we hain't nether, stranger; hain't hooked a fish for two days. Can't 'commodate us with a sup of fresh water, can ye? Wanted to get a chance at the sh.o.r.e, but ain't had one for more nor three weeks; true! by Christopher Columbus,' rejoined Uncle Pluck, puttin' on the most innocent face ye ever did see.

"'We'll talk about that by-and-by,' says the Britisher. 'If you'd a c.u.m to, like a man, as you should, and not given us this long chase after you, you might have had some claim to our generosity. We are only carrying out Her Majesty's orders for the benefit of the Colonial fisheries.'

"'Lord love yer soul, stranger! had I but known that, ye wouldn't a seen this salt-water citizen about these diggings. Pluck had been hum, helping Cousin Gethro to keep school--would!'

"'Never mind that. We don't want yer Yankee soft sauder! Bear a hand, get your hatches off, and your papers up!'

"'Ye hain't seen Uncle Caleb's craft--her name's the Winking Weazel--as ye come from down north, have ye?' inquires Pluck, giving the mate a side wink.

"'What the devil do I care about yer Winking Weazels? I'm quite certain you have been fis.h.i.+ng inside of the line, or you had obeyed our summons properly,' he growled out again, like a bear in trouble. 'Blow my b.u.t.tons, if I warn't most scared to death when I seed ye comin'! Couldn't tell what on 'arth ye wanted; and I know'd that if there war' a chance at all, it was to run. If I'd know'd ye war' such a clever lookin' fellow, and that ye warn't a going to hurt a body, I'd come to quicker nor lightenin.' Pluck got all the philosophy in his natur' up. 'Suppose ye step down into the cabin and have a leetle of somethin' to take, seem' what a tarnal ugly fog's comin' up. Tom Blowers 'll get all the things clear, so ye can take a look round, and be satisfied how we ain't been takin' advantage of the law, while you and me wets t'other eye with a little what won't taste bad,' continues Pluck, doing the polite all up. The good natur' of the chap was a good way down' in him, but talkin' of a little drop just dropped into the right place, brought it up all over him. 'Well, seeing it's you, providing it's right good, I don't mind,' he replied, reflectively. It warmed up the tender spot in his stomach, and, going down below, he wet t'other eye twice. 'Stonis.h.i.+n' to see how good the critter got all at once. He was just the best natured Britisher that ever came along. 'Twas just the medicine to cure his disease.

"'Now! here's the dockerments' (Pluck hands him the papers), 'and ye can take a squint into the hold. Hain't touched a fish for three days. Just so, stranger,' rejoined Pluck, tellin' the cook to get the skipper of the Devastation to be kind enough to lend him a keg of water.

"'Schooner s.p.u.n.k, of Barnstable, 84 tons burden, Jacob Pluck, master, &c., &c. Mighty formidable combination,' e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Britisher, lookin' his eyes almost out, and runnin' the forefinger of his right hand over the s.p.u.n.k's Certificate. Then turning to Pluck, a sort of half-way grin of good nature on his countenance, he continued: 'You Yankees are curious specimens, after all. Pretty generous, good-natured when it's profitable, hard to understand, and as cute as--'

"'Don't say the last!' interrupts Pluck. 'Seeing it's you, citizen, we wont argue that point just now. Satisfied on the dockerments, ain't ye?'

"'Confound the dockerments! I don't want to bother myself with them. Mind your eye next time; cover when you see the signal,' says the Britisher, whom Pluck had got nicely smoothed down.

"'Reckon how there won't be any mistake about it next time. Give us yer hand, captain.' (Pluck shakes hands with the Britisher). 'They say the Pinkey, Starlight--you know she's a ripper to fish inside of the line!--got into a monstrous shoal of fresh mackerel day afore yesterday, and is now takin' on 'em like sixty, inside of the line, down _north-east_ of us.'

"'Do you tell me that? That fellow Smooth at it, again, fis.h.i.+ng inside of the line? And inside the point as well, I suppose?' The Britisher looked surprised, and listened attentively to Pluck as he a.s.sumed an air of innocence.

"'Just so! Smooth is the keenest feller. Don't care a whit about the line; and the Starlight's so mighty used to fis.h.i.+n' inside, that even the fish seem to have a likin' for the skipper.'

"'I'll see after that treaty-breaker, I will,' growls the chap, changing his good natur' into bad again.

"'Down _north-east of us_ ye'll find him, inside the point,' continues Pluck, looking all over serious.

"'I'll catch the fellow, and right soon, too;' and, being right good friends, they shook hands, and the Britisher left, quite satisfied.

Just as he, in his boat, was leavin' the s.p.u.n.k for the Devastation, Pluck bellowed out, fearin' he'd forget it, 'Keep a straight course, _north-east_ about two points east! about two points east! and yer sure to come upon him.' The last thing Pluck saw of the Devastation, she was heading for _the supposed spot_, steering away, drivin' all the fish into the middle of the Atlantic, and expecting to find the Starlight where Pluck said she was.

"No sooner was the Devastation put all right than Pluck hauled his wind, and next mornin' came up with the Starlight, which had taken about eighty barrels of fine fat mackerel. The game being nicely played, the Starlight and the s.p.u.n.k both run in for a shelter, where the spoils could be shared according to practical diplomacy--not the diplomacy that has been twenty years gettin' the question into an interminable difficulty. This done, Smooth, having helped the folks on sh.o.r.e with their political meetings, and prayer meetings, and consultation meetings, stepped on board again, and took command of the Starlight without any extra trouble. But that was not the end of it. The looks of such fine fat fish raised a mighty fuss in the town, everybody forgot the politics and the prayer meetings, and begun to talk fish. They declared the Yankees had encroached on the Britisher's rights. Despatches were next day to go to head-quarters, a whole British fleet was wanted, and must come down and seize Smooth's Pinkey, the Starlight--fish and all. The whole talk and noise didn't make much matter to Smooth; he didn't believe in talking--acting was his motto--go-ahead. 'Blow away, citizens--blow away! A little more energy is worth the whole. There is fish enough for us all; but politics and prayer meetings will not catch them.'

CHAPTER XXV.

THE PIOUS SQUIRE.

"The good people of Nova Scotia were, in days gone by, exceedingly given to Toryism, and, as was then held to be the natural result, very loyal. To such an extent was this loyalty and love of Toryism--as it was then called--carried, that a person who consumed 'Yankee goods'

was seriously suspected of some improper design against the State. The consumption of British manufactures and British-grown produce was, on the other hand taken as strong testimony of loyalty and confidence in the wise powers protecting the interests of the State. The very presence of 'Yankee goods' was ominous of evil; and as it was desirable the good people should be kept well up to their Toryism, many were the means resorted to for forcing the exclusive consumption of British produce. Tea from the United States was prohibited for the benefit of the East India Company--powder must be Britis.h.!.+ Tobacco paid imperial and colonial duties approximating to a prohibition; and the consumer of the weed was considered quite an extravagant aristocrat, who either had dealings with smugglers, or was wasting his fortune in the ways of the devil. In a word, imperial and colonial duties dried up the energies of the people, and gave new life to a contraband trade that was fast destroying the best interests of the State. The result was, that the best smuggler was the most desperate fellow; but it generally happened that the man who said most against 'Yankee goods' was sure to be deepest implicated in contraband trade.

"To be a scientific smuggler in those days it was necessary to be a justice of the peace: and if the office were coupled with that of church warden so much the better. About this time there was, in the Bay of Fundy, an old coaster of the name of Hornblower, who knew every creek, cove, inlet and headland, together with all the best points for smuggling, from the St. Croix River to Windsor Bay on the one side, and from Windsor Bay to Barrington on the other. Skipper Hornblower, as he was then called, had the go-ahead in him, and commanded the schooner Dash, owned by one Squire Burgle, who carried on a strictly _legitimate_ trade with the Yankees over the _line_, though he always gave out that he hated them as a people, nor would ever sell a pennyworth of their notions which he denounced as worthless.

Hornblower was a _brusque_ old salt, but had a right good heart in him, and, not liking the way trade was restricted by imperial and colonial exactions, thought it no harm to work to windward of the collectors now and then, and accommodate his friends in a free-trade sort of way. Tea, 'in them times,' cost six colonial s.h.i.+llings and a day's journey per pound, and a gallon of mola.s.ses about the same. The good old women in more remote parts of the province, must have their tea, and mola.s.ses was an indispensable luxury, for they were indeed poor. But they were compelled to buy of the established merchant, who was a sort of prince in his way, and dictated his terms to the people, whom he always kept in poverty while he got rich. Mola.s.ses, tea, tobacco, and rum (New England white-eye, labelled Jamaica!) const.i.tuted his stock in trade. To length of credit he added corresponding prices, never forgetting to take good security. His medium price for tick was only forty per cent. addition, which he considered extremely liberal.

"And thus, through a pettifogging colonial policy, commerce was turned into the merest peculation by a cla.s.s of persons who made it their object to restrict the agriculturist, and hold his interests at their mercy. The more the farmer raised, the more he found himself subject to the shopkeeper's narrow restrictions; and thus the interests of a naturally energetic people were held in check. The Home Government (G.o.d bless it! as the very loyal Provincials used to say when the Imperial Parliament took their cause under consideration) thought little about the outside Nova Scotians, except to say, once in a while, that the territory they inhabited belonged to her Majesty, which fact the people of the province were forcibly reminded of by the presence of imported gentlemen, whom it had pleased her Majesty to place in all responsible offices. In fact, the Home Government, through its pewter-headed policy, was for ever making laws to suit the immediate demands of a favored few, who said good things of loyalty and toryism, and left the rest to chance.

"During this state of affairs, Skipper Hornblower's fame sounded far and wide, and many were the stories told of his smuggling exploits, and how Squire Burgle always kept a large stock of British goods on hand, which he never sold cheaper than any body else, though he got richer. Hornblower's account of how he and the Squire carried on business together in the good old times may not be uninteresting, 'Squire Burgle,' said Hornblower, 'was a great man in them days, said a sight of good things in his prayers every night and morning, denounced smuggling, and hoped all those fearless men that followed it would see the error of their way, turn to her Majesty, and make their loyalty honor the State. Squire used to send me to Boston--(the Dash was the only craft in the trade then)--with little things to sell, and a return cargo of flour, gin, tobacco, and such like Yankee notions, which the Nova Scotians must have, and upon which her Majesty lavished most ungracious duties, to fetch home. Well, the Squire lived at the town of Annapolis, twenty miles up a river, where Digby, at its entrance, was the only port of entry within a hundred miles. Seeing that I liked to make quick trips, it was not always convenient to stop at this obdurate port of entry, and so I used to lay the Dash's head for a piece of dark wood on a point of land outside the entrance (always being careful to have a clearance in _merchandise_) and run her close aboard of it. Squire had a cousin living near that bit of wood, who used to understand the thing, and could sight the Dash's signal ten miles at sea. Lying off and on until sundown, the Squire's cousin would hang out a light on a tree; if at the top it was the signal--'All right;' if half-mast, 'Keep out!' 'There's the light--all right to-night! the boys used to say, when it gleamed at the tree top.' Then into the basin and up the river we used to dodge, pa.s.sing on the opposite side of the river, and as far from the port of entry as it was possible to get, and reaching a point on the banks where the cargo was to be discharged, while the folks on sh.o.r.e were all nicely sleeping. The Squire, of course, had said his prayers, or, as it sometimes would happen--though it was always accidental--had gone to Digby, for the purpose of giving her Majesty's Collector a ride into the country. The Collector was always an imported gentleman, who maintained a good deal of imported dignity, which the Nova Scotians had to 'tip' out of him, ere he became a clever fellow, according to their notion of such a being. In addition to taking the Collector a short pleasure trip into the country, the Squire had a n.i.g.g.e.r fellow, of the name of Tom, who, as cunning as a fox, could tell the Dash was coming, by something he always said he saw was in the clouds. Tom lived on Pin Point, where the Squire had his half-way warehouse, always full of foreign goods, on which no one could tell how much duty had been paid. This half-way warehouse, which Tom called his, used to atone for a monstrous quant.i.ty of sins. The Squire, however, declared he had established it there, in the fulness of his generosity, merely to accommodate his kind customers, whose means of travelling did not enable them to reach his trading marts at either extreme. But, when customers called at Pin-Point to do a little trading with the Squire, they generally found it closed, and Old Tom offering his very best apology, by saying it was where master only did his wholesale business. This was accepted on the ground that the Squire and Tom were very funny individuals. Well, we would run to the Point at night, and Tom having everything ready to move at the word, would shoot the Yankee goods into the warehouse, where, in six hours, they would be all transferred into real British growth and manufacture. During this time the Squire was nowhere; but Tom did things as if he knew how. Indeed no sooner were the goods out than we made the best of our way down the river again.

"Next morning, the sun about two hours up, you would see the Dash away down the bay, as calm as moonlight, just sighting Digby.

Squire--totally ignorant of Hornblower's arrival--would be putting on the longest face in the town of Annapolis, going up and down the street quite disconsolate, and climbing into the church steeple to see if he could sight the Dash below. 'Hornblower's gone this time!' he would say, shaking his head, 'must be lost! must be lost! must be lost!' And the Squire would tell about his horrid dream, seeing Hornblower's ghost smuggling a chest of tea (real congou), and the Collector catching him on the spot. 'Hornblower's tricky--he larnt it of the Yankees--and I'm always afraid he'll get cotched smuggling little things for himself. What a blessing it is to have a clear conscience!' he would say: the last sentence referring to himself.

"But soon the knowing ones got an inkling of the Squire's secrets, and when he mentioned the Dash in his prayers at morning, and walked the wharf after breakfast, muttering his misgivings, she was sure to arrive in the afternoon. There was virtue in the Squire, but the citizens got the hang of it so well, that whenever I arrived at town they would say: 'It's only Hornblower's ghost.'

"While the Squire would be doing what he called the straight-forward up in town, I'd be dropping kedge at Digby, where (the Colonial Parliament having withdrawn the appropriation for a boarding-boat, that smugglers might get through their little operations without trouble) we would send our own boat for the collector. Used to have everything as bright as a new sixpence, and colors flying, and my own face squared up to do the honest, when that imported dignitary came on board, affecting all the importance of a Port-Admiral.

"'Had a good pa.s.sage, eh, Hornblower?' the prim collector used to ask, as he mounted the rail.

"'Blowed like cannons, outside, last night! Seeing how we had just ballast in her, like to tipped her over,' I'd say, bowing, keeping my hat in my hand, and doing the polite all up.

"'Didn't have a chance to smuggle, according to that, eh?'

"'Yer honor knows Hornblower never does that sort of thing. The Squire, my owner, is pious, you know,' I'd say, keeping the long face hard down.

"'Yes, Hornblower, I know your owner to be conscientious and pious; that is why I always let you off so easy.' And the collector would look so credulously good-natured that I couldn't help drawing out a roll of cigars, telling him they were pure Havanas, when presenting them. It used to do me good to see how it--small as it was--softened things about his heart. I would immediately follow the cigars with the papers, taking good care to have merchandise enough in the hold to correspond with what was set forth on the clearance and manifest. 'Ye see, sir,' I'd remark, 'I never smuggles, except it is a few cigars now and then, for my own smoking! Old Jacob Grimes says, when a government makes laws what people can't live to, you must live round them; but them ain't my principles.'

"'Thank you, Mr. Hornblower, I am sure you have more regard for your honor than to smuggle,' he would resume, keeping his eyes fixed upon me.

"'I am obliged to you for the confidence--the confidence of superiors in spirit or body; and I hope I may never do anything but what will merit yours. It has been my motto through life to keep before me the words of my good old mother. Ah! she was a mother. Fond soul, she used to say, 'Solomon, my boy, let your dealing with the world be marked by honesty, and remember that one small error in your life may stain forever your character. The eyes of an unforgiving world once excited to suspicion will ever wear the same gla.s.ses.'' Having said this, nothing more was wanted to make complete the Squire's confidence.

Without further detention, he would have the papers made out, and having received them, we would trim our sheets and sail away up the river, Old Tom boarding us off Pin Point, and laughing himself almost out of his black skin--welcoming us after the fas.h.i.+on of friends met after a long absence. All this time the Squire would be impatiently waiting on the wharf at the little town of Annapolis--so glad to see Hornblower! 'No contraband goods on board, eh, Hornblower?' he would inquire, affecting such an amount of piety that it made me laugh in my shoes.

"'Not so much as a plug of tobacco!' I would reply, contemplatively, as the crew commenced putting out the few things we had entered at Her Majesty's Custom House. We had great regard for Her Majesty; nor have I the least doubt of the Squire's honesty, which would have been all right had it not been for the law and parliament. We have only to add that, having played his part after the manner of a good Christian, he would seek his way home, there to arrange an evening prayer-meeting.

"But the beauty of the Squire's nature, as ill.u.s.trated in his pious hatred of smuggling, or otherwise defrauding Her Majesty, would s.h.i.+ne out bright on the day the Dash left on her return voyage. I was sure of an invitation to breakfast with him on that morning, and he was equally sure to paint the purity of his conscience in such glowing colors that it was difficult for me to maintain a serious face. When we had eaten bread, and he had offered up his prayer (in which he always remembered Her Majesty), he would accompany me to the Dash, when, having got on board, and cast off, he would mount the most prominent place on the cap-sill, where the citizens a.s.sembled could hear him, and cry out at the top of his voice:--'Hornblower!

good-bye. One word more, Hornblower! Let me entreat you not to smuggle a pennyworth for anybody.' My reply always was that I would follow his advice with christian strictness. Then he would modestly finger that cravat so white, and fix in his face such becoming dignity, that I thought his green gla.s.ses, which I never liked, covered his eyes to great advantage. 'Remember what I have always endeavored to impress on your mind,' he would continue; 'honesty is the best policy--it is!'