Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 20
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 20
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"Oh," replied he, "I know them, and require but small help from
divination. Nine years ago, I was commander of one of old Hasting's
vessels; and because I was a native of the Borders, forsooth, I, like
you, was a favourite with him. He entrusted me with the secret of his
having a daughter. Frequently, when I had occasion to put into Boulogne,
I carried her presents from him. He also ordered me to bring him over
her portrait, and when the old boy took it in his hands, and held it
before his face, he wept as though he had been a child. He used me
crookedly at last, however; for he accused me of dishonesty, and
attempted to bring me to punishment. I was then as honest as noonday,
and on land I am honest still, although I have done some bold business
upon the high seas. I made a vow that I would be revenged upon him, and,
but that you thwarted me, I would have been revenged. I ran my brig into
Boulogne. I pretended that I had a message to Miss Hastings from her
father, or, as I termed him, her uncle, and that she was to accompany me
to England. As I had frequently been the bearer of communications from
him before, my tale was believed. She accompanied me on board the brig;
and we sailed, not for England, but on a roving cruise, as a king of the
open sea. I was resolved that no harm should befal her; but I had also
determined that she should not again set her foot upon land, until her
father came down with a thousand pounds as a ransom. Of that thousand
pounds you deprived me. But on your marriage day--at the very
altar--payment will be demanded. It is not for myself that I desire it,"
said he, seriously, "for I am a careless fellow, and am content with
what the sea gives to me; but I have a son in Cumberland, who will now
be about seven years of age. His mother is dead, for my forsaking her
broke the poor thing's heart, and hurried her to the grave. My son, I
believe, is now the inmate of a workhouse. It is better that he should
remain there, than be trained to the gallows by his father. Yet I should
wish to see him provided for, and your wife's ransom shall be his
inheritance. Give me your bond, and when you again see this dagger, be
ready to fulfil it."
As he spoke, he exhibited a small poniard, which he carried concealed
beneath his coat. I conceived that his brain was affected, and merely to
humour him I agreed to his strange demand.
His words gave birth to wild thoughts, and with an anxious heart I
hastened to return to England. My employer received me as though I had
not been absent for a week.
"You have done well," he said; "I am satisfied with your undertaking.
You did not this time meet with pirates, nor captive damsels to rescue."
I hesitated to reply, and I mentioned that I had met and spoken with the
pirate commander at Genoa.
He glanced at me sharply for a moment, and added--"Merchants should not
converse with robbers."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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