The Three Brides, Love in a Cottage, and Other Tales Part 48

"What loss?"

"The loss of your life. I fear nothing can save you or your friend here. Yet, perhaps, intercession may do something. I suppose you would prefer being shot to hanging from the yard-arm."

"Decidedly," answered Morris.

"Or working for life on the highway, with a ball and chain, you would think preferable to both."

"Cap'n Morris," said the mate, speaking in English, "it strikes me that our friend in the hairy face is a leetle grain out in his reckoning; 'pears to me, that instead of our bein' in his power, he's in ourn. Just say the word, and I'll gin the Vengador a broadside that'll sink her in the s.h.i.+ver of a main topsail."

"You are right, Pardon," said the captain, smiling; "the gentleman has missed a figure, certainly. Captain Morena," he added, speaking in Spanish, "you have made a small mistake; you are _my_ prisoner, sir.

Nay, start not; you are completely in my power. Dare but to breathe another word of menace, or offer to resist me, and the Vengador shall go to Davy Jones. Pa.s.s me that sword."

Morena, taken by surprise, obeyed.

"Gi' me his toastin' fork, cap'n," said the mate, "and I'll lock it up in my state room;" which was done almost as soon as said.

"And now, Captain Morena," said Morris, "just walk on deck and explain matters to your people, and then I'll show you how fast a Yankee crew and Mexican lightermen can unload a contrabandista."

They adjourned to the deck, and the Mexican captain was compelled to remain an inactive witness, while boat load after boat load of contraband goods was landed under his own eyes, and the very guns of his cutter. When the work was finished, Captain Morris approached Morena, and said,--

"Captain, I have a word to say to you. I am going up the coast fifty miles, to land the remainder of my cargo at Santa Rosara. Give me your word that you will not follow and molest me, that you will not breathe a word of what you have seen and heard, and I will restore your sword and release you on _parole_."

The revenue captain gave the required pledge, and his sword was restored; after which his men were permitted to man the barge.

"And now, captain, one b.u.mper at parting," said the hospitable Morris.

"The steward has just opened a fresh bottle, and besides I have a pleasant surprise for you."

As they entered the cabin, Morena started back and uttered an exclamation as his eyes fell on the beautiful face and graceful figure of the Mexican senorita, who had taken her seat at the table.

"Maria!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," replied the lady, with sparkling eyes and heightened color. "I have escaped your power. The man who basely sought to coerce my inclinations has been baffled, and ere another sun has set, I shall be the bride of the smuggler Martinez."

"Malediction!" cried the Mexican.

"Come, come, cap'n," said the mate, "take a horn, and settle your proud stomach."

"Never," said the Mexican. "A curse on all of ye!" and he sprang to the deck, threw himself into his barge, and was soon aboard of the cutter.

As the clipper brig, with all her canvas set, and her larboard tacks aboard, bowed gracefully to the freshening breeze, and bowled away under the stern of the Mexican cutter, the mate said to the captain,--

"Cap'n, I wish you'd just let me give that fellur a broadside, if it was only just to clean the guns, afore I run 'em in."

"No, no," replied the captain, smiling, "honor bright, my boy. We'll keep our word to him."

"That's more than he'll do to us," answered the mate, "or I don't know the natur of a greaser. One broadside from our starboard battery would settle him, and save all future trouble, and make every thing pleasant and comfortable on all sides."

But Captain Morris would not listen to reason, and so the guns were secured, and the ports closed, and the little Zanthe went bounding on her course to Santa Rosara.

She came to anchor in a deep bay which she entered at nightfall, and almost immediately a sh.o.r.e boat, under the command of Martinez, boarded the brig. The meeting between the smuggler and his bride was so affectionate, as to call a tear even into the eye of Mr. Pardon G.

Simpkins. The smuggler laughed loudly when he heard of the discomfiture of Captain Morena, the discarded suitor of the senorita Maria.

The next day all hands were employed in landing the remainder of the cargo, and at night a very worthy and accommodating priest came off from the sh.o.r.e, and united Martinez and Maria in the bonds of holy matrimony. The nuptials were celebrated with great rejoicings and revelry, and the fun was kept up till a late hour of the night, when the happy couple retired to the cabin.

The first faint streaks of dawn were beginning to appear in the east, when the ever vigilant ear of the mate, who never took a wink of sleep while the brig was lying on sh.o.r.e, detected the cautious plunge of oars, and soon he descried a barge pulling towards the brig.

"Catch a weazle asleep," said the Yankee to himself; "these greasers don't know as much as a farrer hen." And without arousing the captain, he quietly mustered the crew, and with as little noise as possible, the guns were run out upon the starboard side, which the boat was fast approaching.

A moment after he hailed. No answer was given, but the light of the lanterns flashed on the arms of a large body of men, and the mate recognized the figure of the captain of the Vengador in the stern sheets.

"Sheer off," shouted the mate, "or by the shade of Gin'ral Jackson, I'll blow you all to Davy Jones."

"Pull for your lives," shouted the voice of Morena; and the boat bounded towards the brig.

"Fire!" cried the mate.

Crash went the guns! The iron hurtled through the air, and the splintering of wood, as the metal struck the barge, was distinctly heard amid the groans and shrieks of the vigilantes.

In one moment it was all over. Morris and Martinez rushed to the deck.

"What's the matter, Pardon?" asked the former.

"Nothin', cap'n--cap'n, nothin'," answered the mate. "Only there aint quite so many greasers in the world at present, as there was five minutes since. Morena broke his parole, and tried to board us by surprise, and I gin' him my starboard battery--that's all."

"Then I'm off for blue water!" cried the captain.

"And I for the mountains!" said Martinez. "The mules are all packed and the horses saddled. The vigilantes must wear sharp spurs if they catch us."

It was a hurried parting--that of the smuggler and his bride with the captain and mate of the Zanthe. But they got safely on sh.o.r.e, and the whole band effected their escape.

The Zanthe spread her wings, and some days afterwards was crossing the equator. She was never known again as a free trader. The captain and mate had both "made their piles," and after arriving at the Atlantic states retired from sea. Pardon G. Simpkins took up his residence in Boston, and during the late war with Mexico, was very prominent in his denunciations of that republic, and very liberal in his donations to the Ma.s.sachusetts regiment, to the members of which his parting admonition was, to "give them greasers fits."

THE STAGE-STRUCK GENTLEMAN.

Few amateurs of the drama have pa.s.sed through their town lives, without having been, at some one period of their career, what is called stage struck, afflicted with a maniacal desire to make a "first appearance," to be designated in posters as a "YOUNG GENTLEMAN OF THIS CITY," in connection with one Mr. Shakspeare, the "author of certain plays." The stage-struck youth is easily recognized by certain symptoms which manifest themselves at an early stage of the disorder.

He is apt to pa.s.s his hand frequently through his "horrent locks," to frown darkly without any possible reason, and to look daggers at his landlady when invited to help himself to brown-bread toast. His voice, in imitation of the "Boy," the "Great American tragedian," alternates between the deep ba.s.s of a veteran porker and the mellifluous tenor of a "pig's whisper." He is apt to roll his eyes quickly from side to side, to gasp and heave his chest most unaccountably. He reads nothing of the papers but the theatrical advertis.e.m.e.nts and critiques. He has an acquaintance with two or three fourth-rate stock actors and a scene s.h.i.+fter, and is consequently "up" in any amount of professional information and slang, which he retails to every one he meets, without regard to the taste or time of his auditors. Have you seen the new drama of the Parricidal Oysterman? If you have, you must agree with him it is the greatest affair old Pel. has ever brought out; if you have not, you must submit to his contemptuous pity for your ignorance.

For a person who pa.s.ses his evenings in the society of books and friends, or in the country, the stage-struck gentleman has the most profound contempt. How one can live without nightly inhaling the odor of gas and orange peel, is to him a mystery inexplicable. He is aided and abetted in his practices by the sympathy and example of other stage-struck youths, all "foredoomed their fathers' soul to cross,"

all loathing their daily avocations for the time being, all spending their earnings, or borrowings, or stealings, on bits of pasteboard that admit them to their nightly banquet. The stage struck always copy the traits of the leading actor of the hour, whoever he may be, and grunt and bl.u.s.ter in imitation of "Ned"--meaning Forrest--or quack and stutter _a la_ "Bill"--that is, Macready--as the wind of popular favor veers and changes. It is curious, at a representation of the "Gladiator," to winnow these young gentlemen from the ma.s.s by the lens of an opera gla.s.s. There you may see the knit brows, the high s.h.i.+rt collars, the folded arms, the pursed-up lips, the hats drawn down over the eyes, that are the certain indications of the stage-struck Forrestians.

If, after the performance, fate and a designing oysterman place you in the next box to three or four of these geniuses, you will, unless very much of a philosopher, be disgusted, for the time being, with human nature. Their paltry imitations, their miserable brayings, their misquotations from Shakspeare, their mendacious accounts of interviews with the "Boy," will be enough to drive you mad. Some such thing as the following will occur:--

_Waiter._ Here are your oysters, _gentlemen_; ("a slight shade of irony in the emphasis.")

_Stage-struck Youth, No. 1_, (in a deep guttural tone.) "Let em come in--we're armed!"