Timothy Templeton - The Adventures of My Cousin Smooth

T >> Timothy Templeton >> The Adventures of My Cousin Smooth

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"Now he must disclose how the Starlight and Split got along, coaxing
the mackerel with fresh bait, just as General Pierce does the Soft
Shells. Split meets the schooner Spunk, Skipper Pluck, afore he begun
to get to the line, outside of which he could fish according to
law. Split and he were old cronies, and they just _heaves to_, and has
a talk about what's best to be done. 'Twarn't long afore they had
negotiated the plan, which, when carried out, they were to divide the
spoils equal. Seeing how the Britishers, every year, pay over a
million pounds sterling for keeping open the fishing question, driving
the fish out of the water with big man-o'-war ships and steamships,
and making a deal of pleasant fun for a great many fine gentlemen who
threaten to swallow a fisherman for taking a fish; and that the United
States pay about one-fifth as much for the privilege of sending some
of their big ships to help the Britishers play the genteel, while
hoping that stupid diplomacy will long continue to give them the same
Opportunity, Split and Pluck reckoned how they'd come a point over the
Britishers.

"The great point was to steer clear of the big British steamer,
Devastation. Pluck said he seed her steamin' away down to the
northward t'other a'ternoon, and so it was agreed that Pluck, with the
Pinkey Spunk, should run down in her track. If he sighted her in the
morning he was just to _play her about_ some, until Split got the
mackerel on board. And so, instead of the Devastation going in search
of him, the Spunk went after her, and, as luck would have it, met her
just inside of the treaty line. The Spunk pretended to be shying--put
on the rags as if he was going to try legs with the Devastation.
Crowdin' steam like all Jehu, down the Devastation came, as if she
were going to smash the Spunk, and blow her to Daniel's dungeon. Bang!
whang! boomed a gun or two, but seem' how ther' warn't no iron fallin'
about, Pluck reckoned he'd keep her to it a time longer, knowin' in
his soul that every mile further he got the Devastation away from the
Starlight, so much the better for Splitwater and the mackerel. It
warn't long, afore whir! ziz! ziz! came somethin' what made a mighty
splashin', and looked savagarous, square across her stern sheets.
Pluck reckoned how the Britisher had got his dander up, and about
cleverest thing would be to round to, seem' how the feller was wastin'
his shot, and sendin' things what might save a body the trouble of
puttin' on a night-cap about bedtime. 'Now,' said Pluck, 'the
Devastation feels kind a out o' sorts, and 'll just knock the Spunk
into an apple dumplin';' but she didn't! Well, the skipper and his
dandy officers came on board, looking all so shined up, and vented
their indignant feelins' by takin' it all out in a shower of cussin'
that would 'a made yer hair stand on end straight. In a few minutes
more, a feller in a monkey jacket, a brass button on his hat, and
otherwise officially costumed, put on the dignity of the quarter-deck,
and out-talked the skipper. 'Now, why the devil didn't you come to
when you saw our signal?' says he, with a face of daggers, and looking
at Pluck as if he was goin' to spring the main-mast with his teeth.
'Hand up yer papers here--quick, bear a hand! Take off yer hatches,
too; you've been fishing inside of the _line_,' he grumbled out, as
quickly as you'd overhaul a chain cable. Pluck bore it like a
philosopher, cool and quietly. 'No we hain't nether, stranger; hain't
hooked a fish for two days. Can't 'commodate us with a sup of fresh
water, can ye? Wanted to get a chance at the shore, but ain't had one
for more nor three weeks; true! by Christopher Columbus,' rejoined
Uncle Pluck, puttin' on the most innocent face ye ever did see.

"'We'll talk about that by-and-by,' says the Britisher. 'If you'd a
cum to, like a man, as you should, and not given us this long chase
after you, you might have had some claim to our generosity. We are
only carrying out Her Majesty's orders for the benefit of the Colonial
fisheries.'

"'Lord love yer soul, stranger! had I but known that, ye wouldn't a
seen this salt-water citizen about these diggings. Pluck had been hum,
helping Cousin Gethro to keep school--would!'

"'Never mind that. We don't want yer Yankee soft sauder! Bear a hand,
get your hatches off, and your papers up!'

"'Ye hain't seen Uncle Caleb's craft--her name's the Winking
Weazel--as ye come from down north, have ye?' inquires Pluck, giving
the mate a side wink.

"'What the devil do I care about yer Winking Weazels? I'm quite
certain you have been fishing inside of the line, or you had obeyed
our summons properly,' he growled out again, like a bear in
trouble. 'Blow my buttons, if I warn't most scared to death when I
seed ye comin'! Couldn't tell what on 'arth ye wanted; and I know'd
that if there war' a chance at all, it was to run. If I'd know'd ye
war' such a clever lookin' fellow, and that ye warn't a going to hurt
a body, I'd come to quicker nor lightenin.' Pluck got all the
philosophy in his natur' up. 'Suppose ye step down into the cabin and
have a leetle of somethin' to take, seem' what a tarnal ugly fog's
comin' up. Tom Blowers 'll get all the things clear, so ye can take a
look round, and be satisfied how we ain't been takin' advantage of the
law, while you and me wets t'other eye with a little what won't taste
bad,' continues Pluck, doing the polite all up. The good natur' of the
chap was a good way down' in him, but talkin' of a little drop just
dropped into the right place, brought it up all over him. 'Well,
seeing it's you, providing it's right good, I don't mind,' he replied,
reflectively. It warmed up the tender spot in his stomach, and, going
down below, he wet t'other eye twice. 'Stonishin' to see how good the
critter got all at once. He was just the best natured Britisher that
ever came along. 'Twas just the medicine to cure his disease.

"'Now! here's the dockerments' (Pluck hands him the papers), 'and ye
can take a squint into the hold. Hain't touched a fish for three
days. Just so, stranger,' rejoined Pluck, tellin' the cook to get the
skipper of the Devastation to be kind enough to lend him a keg of
water.

"'Schooner Spunk, of Barnstable, 84 tons burden, Jacob Pluck, master,
&c., &c. Mighty formidable combination,' ejaculated the Britisher,
lookin' his eyes almost out, and runnin' the forefinger of his right
hand over the Spunk's Certificate. Then turning to Pluck, a sort of
half-way grin of good nature on his countenance, he continued: 'You
Yankees are curious specimens, after all. Pretty generous,
good-natured when it's profitable, hard to understand, and as cute
as--'

"'Don't say the last!' interrupts Pluck. 'Seeing it's you, citizen, we
wont argue that point just now. Satisfied on the dockerments, ain't
ye?'

"'Confound the dockerments! I don't want to bother myself with
them. Mind your eye next time; cover when you see the signal,' says
the Britisher, whom Pluck had got nicely smoothed down.

"'Reckon how there won't be any mistake about it next time. Give us
yer hand, captain.' (Pluck shakes hands with the Britisher). 'They say
the Pinkey, Starlight--you know she's a ripper to fish inside of the
line!--got into a monstrous shoal of fresh mackerel day afore
yesterday, and is now takin' on 'em like sixty, inside of the line,
down _north-east_ of us.'

"'Do you tell me that? That fellow Smooth at it, again, fishing inside
of the line? And inside the point as well, I suppose?' The Britisher
looked surprised, and listened attentively to Pluck as he assumed an
air of innocence.

"'Just so! Smooth is the keenest feller. Don't care a whit about the
line; and the Starlight's so mighty used to fishin' inside, that even
the fish seem to have a likin' for the skipper.'

"'I'll see after that treaty-breaker, I will,' growls the chap,
changing his good natur' into bad again.

"'Down _north-east of us_ ye'll find him, inside the point,' continues
Pluck, looking all over serious.

"'I'll catch the fellow, and right soon, too;' and, being right good
friends, they shook hands, and the Britisher left, quite satisfied.
Just as he, in his boat, was leavin' the Spunk for the Devastation,
Pluck bellowed out, fearin' he'd forget it, 'Keep a straight course,
_north-east_ about two points east! about two points east! and yer
sure to come upon him.' The last thing Pluck saw of the Devastation,
she was heading for _the supposed spot_, steering away, drivin' all
the fish into the middle of the Atlantic, and expecting to find the
Starlight where Pluck said she was.

"No sooner was the Devastation put all right than Pluck hauled his
wind, and next mornin' came up with the Starlight, which had taken
about eighty barrels of fine fat mackerel. The game being nicely
played, the Starlight and the Spunk both run in for a shelter, where
the spoils could be shared according to practical diplomacy--not the
diplomacy that has been twenty years gettin' the question into an
interminable difficulty. This done, Smooth, having helped the folks on
shore with their political meetings, and prayer meetings, and
consultation meetings, stepped on board again, and took command of the
Starlight without any extra trouble. But that was not the end of
it. The looks of such fine fat fish raised a mighty fuss in the town,
everybody forgot the politics and the prayer meetings, and begun to
talk fish. They declared the Yankees had encroached on the Britisher's
rights. Despatches were next day to go to head-quarters, a whole
British fleet was wanted, and must come down and seize Smooth's
Pinkey, the Starlight--fish and all. The whole talk and noise didn't
make much matter to Smooth; he didn't believe in talking--acting was
his motto--go-ahead. 'Blow away, citizens--blow away! A little more
energy is worth the whole. There is fish enough for us all; but
politics and prayer meetings will not catch them.'

CHAPTER XXV.

THE PIOUS SQUIRE.

"The good people of Nova Scotia were, in days gone by, exceedingly
given to Toryism, and, as was then held to be the natural result, very
loyal. To such an extent was this loyalty and love of Toryism--as it
was then called--carried, that a person who consumed 'Yankee goods'
was seriously suspected of some improper design against the State. The
consumption of British manufactures and British-grown produce was, on
the other hand taken as strong testimony of loyalty and confidence in
the wise powers protecting the interests of the State. The very
presence of 'Yankee goods' was ominous of evil; and as it was
desirable the good people should be kept well up to their Toryism,
many were the means resorted to for forcing the exclusive consumption
of British produce. Tea from the United States was prohibited for the
benefit of the East India Company--powder must be British! Tobacco
paid imperial and colonial duties approximating to a prohibition; and
the consumer of the weed was considered quite an extravagant
aristocrat, who either had dealings with smugglers, or was wasting his
fortune in the ways of the devil. In a word, imperial and colonial
duties dried up the energies of the people, and gave new life to a
contraband trade that was fast destroying the best interests of the
State. The result was, that the best smuggler was the most desperate
fellow; but it generally happened that the man who said most against
'Yankee goods' was sure to be deepest implicated in contraband trade.

"To be a scientific smuggler in those days it was necessary to be a
justice of the peace: and if the office were coupled with that of
church warden so much the better. About this time there was, in the
Bay of Fundy, an old coaster of the name of Hornblower, who knew every
creek, cove, inlet and headland, together with all the best points for
smuggling, from the St. Croix River to Windsor Bay on the one side,
and from Windsor Bay to Barrington on the other. Skipper Hornblower,
as he was then called, had the go-ahead in him, and commanded the
schooner Dash, owned by one Squire Burgle, who carried on a strictly
_legitimate_ trade with the Yankees over the _line_, though he always
gave out that he hated them as a people, nor would ever sell a
pennyworth of their notions which he denounced as worthless.
Hornblower was a _brusque_ old salt, but had a right good heart in
him, and, not liking the way trade was restricted by imperial and
colonial exactions, thought it no harm to work to windward of the
collectors now and then, and accommodate his friends in a free-trade
sort of way. Tea, 'in them times,' cost six colonial shillings and a
day's journey per pound, and a gallon of molasses about the same. The
good old women in more remote parts of the province, must have their
tea, and molasses was an indispensable luxury, for they were indeed
poor. But they were compelled to buy of the established merchant, who
was a sort of prince in his way, and dictated his terms to the people,
whom he always kept in poverty while he got rich. Molasses, tea,
tobacco, and rum (New England white-eye, labelled Jamaica!)
constituted his stock in trade. To length of credit he added
corresponding prices, never forgetting to take good security. His
medium price for tick was only forty per cent. addition, which he
considered extremely liberal.

"And thus, through a pettifogging colonial policy, commerce was turned
into the merest peculation by a class of persons who made it their
object to restrict the agriculturist, and hold his interests at their
mercy. The more the farmer raised, the more he found himself subject
to the shopkeeper's narrow restrictions; and thus the interests of a
naturally energetic people were held in check. The Home Government
(God bless it! as the very loyal Provincials used to say when the
Imperial Parliament took their cause under consideration) thought
little about the outside Nova Scotians, except to say, once in a
while, that the territory they inhabited belonged to her Majesty,
which fact the people of the province were forcibly reminded of by the
presence of imported gentlemen, whom it had pleased her Majesty to
place in all responsible offices. In fact, the Home Government,
through its pewter-headed policy, was for ever making laws to suit the
immediate demands of a favored few, who said good things of loyalty
and toryism, and left the rest to chance.

"During this state of affairs, Skipper Hornblower's fame sounded far
and wide, and many were the stories told of his smuggling exploits,
and how Squire Burgle always kept a large stock of British goods on
hand, which he never sold cheaper than any body else, though he got
richer. Hornblower's account of how he and the Squire carried on
business together in the good old times may not be uninteresting,
'Squire Burgle,' said Hornblower, 'was a great man in them days, said
a sight of good things in his prayers every night and morning,
denounced smuggling, and hoped all those fearless men that followed it
would see the error of their way, turn to her Majesty, and make their
loyalty honor the State. Squire used to send me to Boston--(the Dash
was the only craft in the trade then)--with little things to sell, and
a return cargo of flour, gin, tobacco, and such like Yankee notions,
which the Nova Scotians must have, and upon which her Majesty lavished
most ungracious duties, to fetch home. Well, the Squire lived at the
town of Annapolis, twenty miles up a river, where Digby, at its
entrance, was the only port of entry within a hundred miles. Seeing
that I liked to make quick trips, it was not always convenient to stop
at this obdurate port of entry, and so I used to lay the Dash's head
for a piece of dark wood on a point of land outside the entrance
(always being careful to have a clearance in _merchandise_) and run
her close aboard of it. Squire had a cousin living near that bit of
wood, who used to understand the thing, and could sight the Dash's
signal ten miles at sea. Lying off and on until sundown, the Squire's
cousin would hang out a light on a tree; if at the top it was the
signal--'All right;' if half-mast, 'Keep out!' 'There's the light--all
right to-night! the boys used to say, when it gleamed at the tree
top.' Then into the basin and up the river we used to dodge, passing
on the opposite side of the river, and as far from the port of entry
as it was possible to get, and reaching a point on the banks where the
cargo was to be discharged, while the folks on shore were all nicely
sleeping. The Squire, of course, had said his prayers, or, as it
sometimes would happen--though it was always accidental--had gone to
Digby, for the purpose of giving her Majesty's Collector a ride into
the country. The Collector was always an imported gentleman, who
maintained a good deal of imported dignity, which the Nova Scotians
had to 'tip' out of him, ere he became a clever fellow, according to
their notion of such a being. In addition to taking the Collector a
short pleasure trip into the country, the Squire had a nigger fellow,
of the name of Tom, who, as cunning as a fox, could tell the Dash was
coming, by something he always said he saw was in the clouds. Tom
lived on Pin Point, where the Squire had his half-way warehouse,
always full of foreign goods, on which no one could tell how much duty
had been paid. This half-way warehouse, which Tom called his, used to
atone for a monstrous quantity of sins. The Squire, however, declared
he had established it there, in the fulness of his generosity, merely
to accommodate his kind customers, whose means of travelling did not
enable them to reach his trading marts at either extreme. But, when
customers called at Pin-Point to do a little trading with the Squire,
they generally found it closed, and Old Tom offering his very best
apology, by saying it was where master only did his wholesale
business. This was accepted on the ground that the Squire and Tom were
very funny individuals. Well, we would run to the Point at night, and
Tom having everything ready to move at the word, would shoot the
Yankee goods into the warehouse, where, in six hours, they would be
all transferred into real British growth and manufacture. During this
time the Squire was nowhere; but Tom did things as if he knew
how. Indeed no sooner were the goods out than we made the best of our
way down the river again.

"Next morning, the sun about two hours up, you would see the Dash away
down the bay, as calm as moonlight, just sighting Digby.
Squire--totally ignorant of Hornblower's arrival--would be putting on
the longest face in the town of Annapolis, going up and down the
street quite disconsolate, and climbing into the church steeple to see
if he could sight the Dash below. 'Hornblower's gone this time!' he
would say, shaking his head, 'must be lost! must be lost! must be
lost!' And the Squire would tell about his horrid dream, seeing
Hornblower's ghost smuggling a chest of tea (real congou), and the
Collector catching him on the spot. 'Hornblower's tricky--he larnt it
of the Yankees--and I'm always afraid he'll get cotched smuggling
little things for himself. What a blessing it is to have a clear
conscience!' he would say: the last sentence referring to himself.

"But soon the knowing ones got an inkling of the Squire's secrets, and
when he mentioned the Dash in his prayers at morning, and walked the
wharf after breakfast, muttering his misgivings, she was sure to
arrive in the afternoon. There was virtue in the Squire, but the
citizens got the hang of it so well, that whenever I arrived at town
they would say: 'It's only Hornblower's ghost.'

"While the Squire would be doing what he called the straight-forward
up in town, I'd be dropping kedge at Digby, where (the Colonial
Parliament having withdrawn the appropriation for a boarding-boat,
that smugglers might get through their little operations without
trouble) we would send our own boat for the collector. Used to have
everything as bright as a new sixpence, and colors flying, and my own
face squared up to do the honest, when that imported dignitary came on
board, affecting all the importance of a Port-Admiral.

"'Had a good passage, eh, Hornblower?' the prim collector used to ask,
as he mounted the rail.

"'Blowed like cannons, outside, last night! Seeing how we had just
ballast in her, like to tipped her over,' I'd say, bowing, keeping my
hat in my hand, and doing the polite all up.

"'Didn't have a chance to smuggle, according to that, eh?'

"'Yer honor knows Hornblower never does that sort of thing. The
Squire, my owner, is pious, you know,' I'd say, keeping the long face
hard down.

"'Yes, Hornblower, I know your owner to be conscientious and pious;
that is why I always let you off so easy.' And the collector would
look so credulously good-natured that I couldn't help drawing out a
roll of cigars, telling him they were pure Havanas, when presenting
them. It used to do me good to see how it--small as it was--softened
things about his heart. I would immediately follow the cigars with the
papers, taking good care to have merchandise enough in the hold to
correspond with what was set forth on the clearance and manifest. 'Ye
see, sir,' I'd remark, 'I never smuggles, except it is a few cigars
now and then, for my own smoking! Old Jacob Grimes says, when a
government makes laws what people can't live to, you must live round
them; but them ain't my principles.'

"'Thank you, Mr. Hornblower, I am sure you have more regard for your
honor than to smuggle,' he would resume, keeping his eyes fixed upon
me.

"'I am obliged to you for the confidence--the confidence of superiors
in spirit or body; and I hope I may never do anything but what will
merit yours. It has been my motto through life to keep before me the
words of my good old mother. Ah! she was a mother. Fond soul, she used
to say, 'Solomon, my boy, let your dealing with the world be marked by
honesty, and remember that one small error in your life may stain
forever your character. The eyes of an unforgiving world once excited
to suspicion will ever wear the same glasses.'' Having said this,
nothing more was wanted to make complete the Squire's confidence.
Without further detention, he would have the papers made out, and
having received them, we would trim our sheets and sail away up the
river, Old Tom boarding us off Pin Point, and laughing himself almost
out of his black skin--welcoming us after the fashion of friends met
after a long absence. All this time the Squire would be impatiently
waiting on the wharf at the little town of Annapolis--so glad to see
Hornblower! 'No contraband goods on board, eh, Hornblower?' he would
inquire, affecting such an amount of piety that it made me laugh in my
shoes.

"'Not so much as a plug of tobacco!' I would reply, contemplatively,
as the crew commenced putting out the few things we had entered at Her
Majesty's Custom House. We had great regard for Her Majesty; nor have
I the least doubt of the Squire's honesty, which would have been all
right had it not been for the law and parliament. We have only to add
that, having played his part after the manner of a good Christian, he
would seek his way home, there to arrange an evening prayer-meeting.

"But the beauty of the Squire's nature, as illustrated in his pious
hatred of smuggling, or otherwise defrauding Her Majesty, would shine
out bright on the day the Dash left on her return voyage. I was sure
of an invitation to breakfast with him on that morning, and he was
equally sure to paint the purity of his conscience in such glowing
colors that it was difficult for me to maintain a serious face. When
we had eaten bread, and he had offered up his prayer (in which he
always remembered Her Majesty), he would accompany me to the Dash,
when, having got on board, and cast off, he would mount the most
prominent place on the cap-sill, where the citizens assembled could
hear him, and cry out at the top of his voice:--'Hornblower!
good-bye. One word more, Hornblower! Let me entreat you not to smuggle
a pennyworth for anybody.' My reply always was that I would follow his
advice with christian strictness. Then he would modestly finger that
cravat so white, and fix in his face such becoming dignity, that I
thought his green glasses, which I never liked, covered his eyes to
great advantage. 'Remember what I have always endeavored to impress on
your mind,' he would continue; 'honesty is the best policy--it is!'
Just then everybody would look at the Squire, while it was with great
effort I kept from my face a smile. I knew honesty was the best
policy; I knew it was the true policy to all praiseworthy ends; but
how could I help contemplating the necessity of those preaching who
never practised it, seeing that the Squire was not what he seemed, for
he smuggled an hundred barrels of flour for every one he paid duty
upon. I had also seen him pass sentence of imprisonment and fine on
the wretch who smuggled a demijohn of bad spirits, when for him I had
smuggled a thousand.

"Thanks to a more liberal commercial policy, that has precluded the
necessity for such scenes as the Dash stealing her way into a river at
night to land her cargo of contraband goods. Those violations of law,
so prevalent a few years ago, have ceased; and in the improved
condition of the people we see the result of a new and more liberal
policy. But a few years ago, that small craft, the Dash, alone sought
to establish what was considered a doubtful trade with the port of
Boston; now, some forty pursue a profitable traffic with the State of
Massachusetts, which has annually brought to her in British bottoms no
less than 170,000 cords of Nova Scotia grown fire-wood.

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