Chapter IV

Did fortune guide,

Or rather destiny, our bark, to which

We could appoint no port, to this best place?

Fletcher.

Nearly the first visit Captain De Vere made, after his arrival at Havana, was to the family of Don Velasquez. The old Don found in the Englishman’s hauteur, fastidious notions of etiquette, and pride of family, a disposition so nearly similar to his own, that he soon became prepossessed in his favor.

Donna Clara, seeing nothing objectionable in the visiter, and knowing him to be wealthy, and of good birth, with that coquetry and love of conquest, so natural in the hearts of most of the fair sex, but all powerful in the breasts of beauties, exerted her uncommon powers of fascination with great success. In answer to an inquiry after Señorita Francisca, he found that her health had been declining for a month past, and her father had, at her earnest solicitation, permitted her to return to his country-seat, accompanied by an old and faithful duenna that had been with her since her infancy.

When Captain De Vere rose to depart, after spending a most agreeable hour, he was pressed, with more warmth than Don Manuel usually used in inviting guests to his house, to call often; this invitation he took advantage of, and was soon a daily visiter. Being thus frequently in the society of Clara, his thoughts were so usurped by her, that he nearly forgot his animosity to the captain of the schooner that had used his vessel so roughly, and then baulked him of his revenge.

Willis, after landing his negroes on the coast, where the agent of the planter who had purchased the cargo was ready to receive them, made for the nearest harbor, for the purpose of overhauling his vessel, and repairing more effectually than he had been able to do at sea, the damage occasioned by the Scorpion’s cannonade. It accidentally happened that he was only a few miles to the eastward of the bay, upon the margin of which Don Velasquez’s country-house was situated; and, standing-in, he came to anchor nearly abreast of the dwelling: it being the only residence visible, Willis determined to go on shore, and endeavor to obtain from the owner, or overseer, some fresh provisions, of which he stood in need.

Ordering the launch to follow, and bring off the things he expected to get, he pulled ashore in his gig, and landing on the beach, a few hundred yards from the house, he proceeded to the garden, which, extending nearly to the water’s edge, was beautifully laid out, and full of choice and exquisite flowers; he entered it, and walked up to the piazza without seeing any person. He thought it something unusual not to find any servants lounging about so fine a looking place; but just then observing a large gang of slaves, in a neighboring field, running, jumping, and moving about, as if they were amusing themselves, he expected it was a holyday, and was just going to make a noise that would attract the attention of the inmates, when a succession of sharp, shrill, ear-piercing shrieks rang through the air, evidently uttered by a female in deep distress.

Willis, gifted by nature with a heart keenly alive to the sufferings of woman, and judging from the peculiar agony of the tones he had heard, that some foul tragedy was in progress, rushed into the house, and hurrying to the room from which the noise proceeded, discovered lying on the floor, motionless, dead, or in a syncope, an elderly lady, dressed in black; and struggling violently in the grasp of two huge, swarthy, and half naked negroes, armed with machetas, or sugar-knives, a young girl, in robes of white, whom he instantly recognized as Francisca, and whose shrieks he had heard on the piazza.

The negroes were so engaged in trying to secure Francisca (for their aim did not seem to be murder) that they had not observed the entrance of Willis.

He at one glance understood the scene; drew a pistol from his breast and shot the nearest slave dead; catching his macheta from his hand as he fell, he clove with it the head of the other negro to the chin, and received Francisca fainting into his arms, but was compelled to lay her on the floor, and spring to the door, to repel the entrance of a dozen negroes, with large machetas, who, crowding the passage, were about to occupy the room.

Willis succeeded in getting to the door first, and as it was narrow, he for a short time was able to maintain his ground; the first four that presented themselves he sent to their long home, but their fellows, exasperated at the death of their comrades, and seeing it was but one man that opposed them, rallied for a rush, that must necessarily have proved fatal to Willis, with all his strength and courage, had not a diversion been made in his favor by the opportune arrival of his boat’s crew, who had heard the pistol shot, and hurried up to the house; seeing the game going on, with a loud shout, they attacked the blacks in the rear. For a moment the slaves gave back, but the gig’s crew, consisted of only four men, and they were armed with nothing but stretchers, boat-hooks, and their common short knives, and the negroes gaining a fresh accession to their numbers, were again on the point of being victorious, as the crew of the launch, which had been in sight when the gigsmen left their boat, came driving into the passage; they were sixteen of the most powerful men in the schooner’s complement, all armed with cutlasses, (twenty being constantly kept in a locker in the stern of the launch,) and falling on the negroes with the impetuosity of a whirlwind, they bore them down like chaff; and in two moments more the house was in possession of the whites.

As soon as Willis was free from the fray, he hastened back to the apartment in which he left Francisca and the old lady. The duenna had recovered her senses, and was anxiously employed in trying to reanimate Francisca, whose pale face, as it lay upon the dark dress of her attendant, was so corpse-like, that for a short time Willis was fearful that her ethereal spirit had fled.

Stooping down he impressed a gentle kiss on her cold forehead, and the vile slaver! the man who had been branded with the name of “brute!” breathed a fervent prayer to Heaven for the happy repose of her pure soul; to his great joy, however, he soon found that his fears were premature. A low sigh escaped Francisca; her bosom heaved, and after nervously twitching her eyelids a short time, she opened them, and gazed vacantly around the room, until her sight resting upon Willis, she recovered her faculties, and, with a blush suffusing her cheek, she tried to thank him; but the effort was too great, and she again swooned away. By the use of stimulants, she was perfectly restored in the course of half an hour, and, had Willis permitted it, would have overwhelmed him with expressions of gratitude.

But he did not think the danger was over yet; and, informing them of it, invited them to accompany him on board the Maraposa, until he had been able to land a party, and see that all was quiet. The duenna was clamorous to go, and soon overpowered the weak objections of Francisca, who was in reality desirous of going, but was uneasy lest Willis might think it unmaidenly.

With all courtesy, and every soothing, gentlemanly attention, Willis accompanied them on board the schooner; and leaving them in possession of his cabin, and under the protection of Mateo, he armed a large part of his crew, and went with them on shore, to inquire into the cause of the insurrection, and make an effort to suppress it.

In the sugar-house he found the overseer of the plantation, bound hand and foot, and gagged with his own whip. Freeing him from his painful situation, Willis found that the insurrection had not been general, but was confined, as yet, to the plantation of Don Manuel; whose negroes, being all under the influence of an old Obeah man on the place, had by him been excited to rise, to take revenge on the whites for a severe whipping the overseer had been forced to give him a few days before; and the overseer said the only reason they spared his life was because the Obi man wanted to have a grand Feteesh that evening, and offer him up as a sacrifice.

The active measures taken by Willis, who was accustomed to deal with refractory negroes, soon restored order on the plantation; and leaving every thing quiet, he returned to his vessel.

Reporting the state of affairs on shore, he told the ladies he was going directly to Havana, and would be most happy to give them a passage, if they felt any timidity in reoccupying their mansion. Francisca professed to feel no uneasiness, as she now understood the cause of the outbreak; and said that the negroes had been so severely punished for this attempt, that they would be afraid to make another, particularly as the ringleaders had been killed, and was for at once going back to the house.

But this arrangement met with violent opposition from the duenna, who would not even listen to any such proposition. Ductile, and ready to be guided by her slightest wish, Francisca had always found the old lady to be heretofore, and in exact proportion was she now obstinate. Talking was thrown away upon her. She said it would be actually tempting Providence for them to return! That Don Manuel would never forgive her if she let Francisca neglect this opportunity of returning to him, while she was safe; and, finally, sullenly refused to leave the schooner until Francisca would promise to go in it to Havana.

Francisca, truly, did not feel perfectly secure in remaining at the house, and would have preferred going back to her father, had the vessel been commanded by any one but Willis; but knowing well her ardent love for him, now increased by gratitude for her recent delivery, she was fearful that in the constant and close communion that would be necessarily created by their being together, in a small vessel, for several days, she would be unable entirely to suppress all evidences of it; and as he had never yet given her any assurance that her affection was reciprocated, her pride and delicacy revolted at the thought of his discovering the state of her heart.

But she found that she had no choice; for the old lady’s fears had been so vividly excited, by the events of the day, that persuasion had no effect upon her; and Francisca, not wishing to remain at the plantation alone, reluctantly consented to take passage in the Maraposa.

As soon as the promise had been extorted, the duenna was as anxious to get ashore, for the purpose of preparing for their departure, as if she had been getting ready for her wedding; and Willis sent them home, accompanied by a number of his men, armed, and under the charge of his mate, whom he ordered to remain at the house and keep a vigilant watch until the ladies were ready to depart.

Francisca, wishing to defer the hour of departure as long as possible, made no effort to hurry the operations of her attendant, whose fears being relieved by the presence of the guard, found so many things she wanted to arrange and take with them, that the third day arrived ere she reported everything ready to start.

So inconsistent are the feelings of woman, that Francisca, who for several months had thought of naught but Willis, and looked forward to the time when she again might meet him as the dearest boon of her life, now that an opportunity offered of being constantly with him for several days, without over-stepping the bounds of propriety, hung back with dread; yet in the bottom of her heart she was glad that no excuse offered for her longer postponing the step.

Willis, who had called personally upon them but once since the day of the insurrection, pleading his duties as the cause of his absence, when he learned they were ready to start, came in his gig to take them off to the schooner.

The Maraposa’s appearance had been much altered since she came into the bay; advantage had been taken of the three days to repair all the damage that had been caused by the Scorpion, and, in honor of the fair passenger she was about to receive, instead of the coat of black with which she had been covered, she was now painted pure white, with a narrow ribbon of gold around her, and the Portuguese flag was flying from her main-gaff.

So charmed was Francisca with the beautiful appearance of the vessel, that it nearly overcame her repugnance to going on board; and the behavior of Willis, who, though perfectly courteous and kind in his manner, was reserved, dissipated the remainder of her scruples; and it was with feelings of pleasure at being near him, and able to hear his voice and see him, and with a presentiment that her love would not always be unrequited, that she stepped upon the deck.

The distance from Havana was only about three hundred and fifty miles, but a succession of light airs and calms prevailing, it was five days before the schooner accomplished the passage.

During these five days, many and various were the emotions that agitated the breast of Francisca; now she was all joy, from the pleasure afforded her by Willis’s presence, then a sickening anxiety would overcome her joy, for fear her love would never be returned, when some word, look, or tone of Willis would make her imagine that he did love her; and for a little while she would be perfectly contented, until the thought of their speedy separation, and the fear that Willis might not confess his feelings, with the uncertainty of their again meeting, would cast a heavy cloud over her spirits; and when they passed the Moro Castle, on entering the harbor, she could not determine whether she had been very happy or very miserable for the last few days.

Francisca had addressed Willis by the name of “Brewster,” the name by which he had been introduced to her at the ball; and as he did not inform her to the contrary, she had no reason to believe that it was not his proper appellation. She had some curiosity to know why he was in command of an armed vessel, but he did not mention the subject, and delicacy prevented her asking him.

The duenna was restrained by no such scruples; and having become intimate with Mateo, endeavored by all manner of inquiries to get at the history of his captain, for she had some suspicion of the state of her young charge’s feelings; the mate, however, was afflicted with a spell of taciturnity whenever she commenced about the captain, though upon all other subjects he was very communicative; and all the good dame was able to learn from him was, that the schooner was a Portuguese man-of-war, and that the captain was a young American, high in the confidence of the government, who had been sent out to the West Indies on a special mission of some kind, he did not know what!

This account would have been likely to excite the doubts of one conversant with maritime affairs, but with Francisca and the duenna, it passed current, without a suspicion of its falsity.

Willis’s mind, during this short passage, had been likewise subject to many struggles; when he first saw Francisca, his knowledge of the sex had enabled him to form a correct opinion of her character, though he had sought her out at the governor’s, with no other intention than that of passing an agreeable evening. The respect with which she had inspired him, involuntarily compelled a softer tone in his voice, and more point and feeling to his conversation than he had intended.

His course of life had, for several years, excluded him from any very intimate intercourse with the refined and virtuous of the other sex; and to be thus brought in close conjunction with one eminently lovely, and whom he knew to be intelligent, gentle, and pure, gave a direction to his thoughts, and cast a shade of happiness over his feelings, that had been foreign to them for a long time; and knowing from the expression of Francisca’s eye, and an indescribable something in her manner, that she entertained partial feelings toward him, he could not help loving her, and pictured to himself the happiness with which he could spend the balance of his life with such a companion; with eagerness would he have sought her affection, had he occupied that station in life he knew he was entitled to.

But the dark thought of his present position obtruded itself. He was a slaver—an outlaw! and in the estimation of many in the world, worse than a pirate. His sense of honor revolted at the idea of taking advantage of the ignorance and confidence of an inexperienced girl, and inducing her to share his lot, even if he could have succeeded.

He therefore treated Francisca with scrupulous politeness during the passage; and desirous of removing the temptation from him, while yet he had strength to resist, landed the ladies as soon as permits were received from the authorities, and accompanying them to Don Manuel’s door, bid them farewell, without going in. Both Francisca and the duenna were very urgent for him to enter, if only for a moment, that Don Velasquez might have an opportunity of expressing his gratitude.

The sudden return of Francisca greatly surprised her father and sister, who, after the first embrace, overwhelmed her with questions. She related all the particulars of the insurrection—her danger, and the great obligations she was under to the captain of the schooner in which she had come home; and her father was nearly angry at her for not compelling her preserver to come in with her, that he might have given him some evidence of his appreciation of the deep obligation he had laid him under; and he hurried off to find Willis, and tell him his feelings of gratitude, and endeavor to find some means of requiting him.

He readily found the Maraposa, but Willis had not yet returned on board; and Don Velasquez waited until dinner time without his making his appearance. Disappointed, he returned home, leaving with the mate a note, earnestly requesting “Captain Brewster” to call upon him.

After Willis had parted with Francisca, he found the loss of her society a greater denial, and more difficult to bear than he had imagined; and with his mind much troubled, he proceeded to a monte-room, to allay the distress of his feelings by the excitement of play. He staked high, but the luck was against him; and in a few hours all the drafts he had received from the purchasers of his last cargo passed from his pocket to the hands of the monte bank-keeper. This loss at any other time would not have disturbed him, for he made money too easy to place much value upon it; but now it caused him to feel as if every thing was against him, and in a state of mind ready to quarrel with the world, and all that was in it, he walked into the saloon attached to the monte-room, which was the fashionable lounging place of the city.

Seating himself at one of the tables, he ordered some refreshments, and was discussing them, when Captain De Vere, accompanied by two other gentlemen, entered, and placing themselves at an adjoining table, continued the conversation they had been engaged in before their entry.

Willis’s back being toward them, he would not have seen De Vere, had not his attention been attracted by hearing the name of the Maraposa mentioned; when turning around, he discovered the English Captain. His first impulse was to get up, and by insulting De Vere, compel him to give satisfaction for the contumely he had heaped upon his name the night of the ball; but remembering his person was unknown to the Englishman, he thought he would first learn the subject of their conversation.

“You only feel sore, De Vere, because the slaver dismasted you, and then played you such a slippery trick when you thought you were sure of her. By the Virgin! I would like to have seen you getting cut to pieces by a little schooner, and you unable to return a shot. Faith, I don’t blame you for hating the fellow so,” said one of De Vere’s friends.

“Hate him! yes, I would give a thousand pounds to have him on the beach alone for half an hour. Every midshipman in port laughs at the Scorpion, and says her sting was extracted by a musqueto; but, by heavens! if I can’t get a fight out of the captain, I will have the schooner as soon as she gets past the Moro.”^[6]

Willis, who desired a personal encounter as much as De Vere, waited until he had finished, and stepping up to the group, bowed to the captain, and told him he had the honor of being Charles Willis, master of the schooner Maraposa; and that he would be happy to accommodate him with his company as soon as it would suit his convenience.

This sudden and unexpected movement startled De Vere and his friends; but the Englishman soon recovered his composure, and struck by the appearance of Willis, in whom, to his surprise, he discovered a gentleman of refined manners, when he expected to meet a rough, rude sailor, returned his salute, and said “That the next morning at sunrise he would meet him on the sea-shore, six miles above the city, accompanied by a friend; and if Mr. Willis had no objection, the weapons should be pistols.”

Willis replied “that it was a matter of indifference to him, and if he preferred pistols, he was perfectly satisfied;” and with a bow he wished them good afternoon, and left the saloon.

After Willis’s departure, De Vere’s friends commenced joking him upon his success, in having so soon been able to get an opportunity of revenging himself upon the dismantler of his brig.

But on the eve of a deadly encounter with a determined antagonist, a man, no matter how brave, does not feel like jesting; and after engaging the services of one of the gentlemen for the morrow, looking at his watch, De Vere suddenly remembered a pressing engagement, and bidding his companions adieu, he went to Don Manuel’s to spend another evening, perhaps his last, with Señorita Clara, to whom he was now engaged to be married.

Willis, after leaving the café, proceeded to the office of his agent, where business matters detained him until nearly dark. Attracted by the appearance of a splendid equipage that came driving from the other end of the street as he was about starting for his vessel, he looked to see if he knew the inmates, and discovered Francisca and her father sitting on the back seat. He would have gone on without speaking, but the recognition had been mutual; and the vehicle instantly stopping, Don Manuel got out, and approaching Willis with dignity and great kindness mingled in his manner, and deep feeling in his words, thanked him for his assistance and gallantry to his daughter; and begged Willis to point out some substantial method by which he could prove his gratitude, and told him he had waited all the morning on board the schooner to see him.

The captain of the Maraposa replied, that the pleasure of being able to do any thing to increase the safety or happiness of a lady, amply repaid the trouble; and that he considered all the obligation on his side, for he had by that means enjoyed for several days the society of his daughter.

“Your actions don’t tally with your words, señor capitan, or you would have come in this morning, and not have kept me so long from thanking you. But you must go with us now; no excuse will avail, for we will not take any—will we Francisca?”

“No, no! but el señor will certainly not refuse.” The look that accompanied her words had more influence on Willis than all the old gentleman had said; and getting into the carriage, they drove to Don Velasquez’s house.

Entering the drawing-room, they found Clara and Captain De Vere, to whom Don Manuel introduced Willis as “Captain Brewster,” of the Portuguese navy; the gentleman who had rendered such distinguished service to Francisca.

Clara received him with much kindness; but De Vere’s inclination was as cold and haughty as if he had been made of ice.

During the evening the family treated him with the greatest attention and consideration, and seemed hurt at De Vere’s reserve. But Willis, certain that his true character would soon be known, and feeling that he was deceiving them, though he had been forced into his present situation against his inclination, retired as soon after supper as politeness would allow, and promised Don Manuel to make his house his home, with the intention of never coming near it again.

[To be continued.