The Fortunes of Hector O'Halloran, and His Man, Mark Antony O'TooleMaxwell, W. H. (William Hamilton)
General
The Fortunes of Hector O'Halloran, and His Man, Mark Antony O'Toole
Maxwell, W. H. (William Hamilton)
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
“But _you_; and how you managed it I don’t know. As for me, I gave
leg-bail in the Gambia. Come, Jones, Thompson, Robinson, or any thing
you please to call yourself, fear nothing from me. I owe you a debt
of gratitude. I shipped myself in that villanous slaver, a
runaway-apprentice; and, when struck down by fever, and dying of thirst
upon my passage out, the only hand in all that rascally ship’s company,
to whom I was indebted for a drink of water to slake my burning thirst,
was your’s; and now, seven years after, I survive to prove to you that
kindness to a destitute boy has not been, and shall not be forgotten.”
“It seems you know me,” I replied; “and concealment would be idle. It
is, indeed, too true that all on board the slaver perished, save that
negro who attends me, and myself.”
“Ay,” said the rover; “but you may recollect that a boy was missing the
night before you sailed. I was that lost one; and, from weariness of
a miserable life, and disgust at the horrible duty imposed upon me, of
attending to the slave-hold, every feeling had revolted. I bolted from
the vessel; escaped a fate that none survived but you; passed through
a thousand hair-breadth adventures; and now command the Flambeau--the
sweetest schooner that ever spread canvass to a breeze. Come, I bear
you have lost every thing again but life; try your luck once more with
Captain Raleigh; and rest assured, that he who succoured the fevered
boy, shall secure the friendship of the commander of the Flambeau,--a
craft by some called a privateer, and by others set down--may Heaven
forgive them!--as nothing better than a pirate!”
I listened to the rover’s invitation. There was much that would induce
a man, circumstanced as I was, to accept it; I seemed a being marked out
for misfortune--for whom no happiness was predestined, and one, for whom
fate had reserved the phials of her wrath. Captain Raleigh marked my
hesitation.
“Come,” said he, “time presses. You brought me, and for little
advantage, I regret, out of my course this morning, and I must regain
it speedily. You are, as far as I am concerned, a free agent. Come with
me--you will be welcome; stay where you are--a hundred dollars are
at your service, to begin the world anew, and the best wishes of the
runaway apprentice you nursed on his passage to the Gambia. I’ll rejoin
you in five minutes--a time sufficiently long for a man to come to a
decision, as well as if he dreamed over it for a twelvemonth.”
He turned, walked to another part of the vessel, and gave orders to his
crew to man their boats, and prepare for returning to the schooner.
Dominique had been a silent, but a most attentive observer of my
tête-à-tête with Captain Raleigh, and I beckoned him to approach.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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