So Tom argued within himself in the most reasonable way in the world, for the temptation was very great.
As he stood thus, looking out of the window and seeing nothing, for his eyes were turned within himself, some one suddenly smote him upon the shoulder, and a voice roared in his ear, Helloa, Tom Granger! where are you bound?
It was a voice that Tom Granger knew very well, for there could be no other such in all of the world; it made ones ears quiver, even when it was softened somewhat to talking. So, even before Tom turned his head, he knew that Jack Baldwin was standing behind him.
Jack Baldwin had been second mate of the Quaker City on the voyage to the East Indies.
Tom Granger never saw in all his life such another man as Jack Baldwin. He stood nearly six feet and two inches in his stockings. His hair and beard were black and curly, and his eyes were as black as two beads. Tom once saw him pick up a mutinous sailor a large and powerful man and shake him as you might shake a kitten. To be sure, he was in a rage at the time. He was better dressed than Tom had ever seen him before. There was something of a half naval smack about his toggery, and, altogether, he looked sleek and prosperous, very different from what Jack ashore does as a rule.
Jack Baldwin saw that Tom Granger was looking him over. Im on the crest of the wave now, said he, in his great, deep voice, grinning as he spoke. Lookee, Tom, and he fetched up a gold eagle from out of his breeches pocket. He spun it up into the air, and caught it in his palm again as it fell. Theres plenty more of the same kind where this came from, Tom.
I wish that I only knew where the tree that they grow on is to be found, said Tom, ruefully.
So you shall, my hearty. And do you want me to tell you where it is?
Yes.
Tom, youre a loon!
Why so? Because I want to know where the tree grows where gold eagles may be had for the picking?
You were at the place this very blessed morning, and might have gathered a pocketful of the bright boys if you hadnt run before a little wind as though it was a hurricane.
What do you mean? said Tom, though he half knew without the asking.
That Ill tell you here, you, bring me a glass of hot brandy and water; will you splice, Tom?
Not I.
I bring to mind that you were always called the Quaker aboard ship, and the name fits you well. You will neither fight nor drink, without you have to.
So the grog was brought, and Jack Baldwin and Tom Granger sat down, opposite to one another, at a rickety deal table.
Presently Jack leaned over and laid his hand on Toms arm. Where do you think I hail from, Tom? said he.
I dont know.
Well, Ill tell you: from old Nick, or old Lovejoy, or Davy Jones, whichever you choose to call him. I was with him not ten minutes after you left. He sent me after you, to hunt you up; so I came straight here, like a hot shot, for I knew Id find you in the old place. Sure enough, Ive found you, and here we are, shipmates both.
And what did you want of me?
That Ill tell you. Tom, here he lowered his voice to a deep rumble have you seen the Nancy Hazlewood?
No.
Well Ill show her to you after a bit. She is lying in the river, just below Smiths Island. Shes the new privateer.
Toms heart beat more quickly, but he only said, Is she?
Who do you thinks the owner, Tom?
How should I know?
Old Lovejoy! Here Jack raised his glass of grog, and took a long pull at it, looking over the rim at Tom all the while. Tom was looking down, picking hard at the corner of the table.
I dont see that this is any concern of mine, he said, in a low voice.
Dont you? Well, Ill tell you what concern it is of yours; Im to be first mate, and I want you to be second, and now the murders out!
Tom shook his head, but he said nothing.
Jack Baldwin slid his palm down, until it rested on the back of Toms hand. Lookee, Tom Granger, said he, roughly; I like you. Weve been messmates more than once, and I dont forget how you kept that yellow coolie devil from jabbing his d d snickershee into my back, over off Ceylon. Theres no man in all the world that Id as soon have for a shipmate as you. Old Lovejoy, too; he says that he must have you. He knows very well that there isnt a better seaman living than the one that stands in Tom Grangers shoes. Dont be a fool! Go to the old man, name your own figure, for hell close with you at any reasonable terms.
So Jack talked and talked, and Tom listened and listened, and the upshot of it was that he promised to go and see old Mr. Lovejoy again the next morning.
You may easily guess how it all turned out, for when a man not only finds that he is in temptation, but is willing to be there, he is pretty sure to end by doing that which he knows is not right.
So Tom drank another glass of Mr. Lovejoys fine old sherry, the old gentleman offered liberal terms, and the end of the matter was that Tom promised to enter as second mate of the Nancy Hazlewood, privateersman.
Tom Granger has always felt heartily ashamed of himself because of the way that he acted in this matter. It is not that privateering was so bad; I pass no judgment on that, and I know that there were many good men in that branch of the service.
I have always held that a man is not necessarily wicked because he does a bad action; he may not know that it is bad, and then, surely, no blame can be laid to his account. But when he feels that a thing is evil, he is wrong in doing it, whether it is evil or not.
Jack Baldwin did nothing wrong in going on this privateering cruise, for he saw nothing wrong in it, but Tom Granger thought that it was wrong, and yet did it; therefore he has always felt ashamed of himself.
In looking back, after all these years, it is hard to guess what he expected would be the end of the matter. If he had come back in a years time, which he did not do, and if he had brought home a thousand dollars of prize money from a privateering cruise, I am very much inclined to think that Elihu Penrose would hardly have judged that it had been fairly earned.
Friends were very much more strict in their testimony against war then than they are now. Numbers of young men went from here during the rebellion, and nothing was thought of it. I myself had a grandson in the navy; he is a captain now.
As I said, Elihu Penrose would hardly have fancied Tom Grangers way of earning money, if it had been won in that way; as for what Patty would have said and done, I do not like to think of it.
However, it is no use trying to guess at the color of the chicks that addled eggs might have hatched out, so I will push on with my story, and tell how the Nancy Hazlewood put to sea, and what befell her there.
CHAPTER V
THE Nancy Hazlewood put to sea on a Friday. Tom Granger was not over fanciful in the matter of signs and omens; nevertheless, he always had a nasty feeling about sailing on that day; he might reason with himself that it was foolish, but the feeling was there, and was not to be done away with. The only other time that he had sailed on a Friday, was in the barque Manhattan (Captain Nathan J. Wild), bound for Nassau, with a cargo of wheat. About a week afterward, she put back into New York harbor again, and not a day too soon, either. Captain Granger has often told the tale of this short cruise, so I will not tell it over again, as it has nothing to do with this story, except to show why it was that Tom Granger always had an ill-feeling about sailing on Friday.