“At Calcutta, I obtained a situation as second mate of a fast-sailing schooner employed in the smuggling of opium into China, and, after three voyages, rose to the office of chief mate. Had I remained another voyage I should have been captain of the vessel; but my seven years were out, and I was anxious to return to England, and look the Robin Red Breasts boldly in the face. I had saved enough money to pay my passage, and was determined to go home like a gentleman, if I had not exactly gone out in that character. What little cash remained after my passage was paid, I lost at play to an army officer, who was returning in the same ship.

  “When I landed at Portsmouth, I retained a suit of ‘long togs,’ as we call them, and, disposing of all the rest of my stock to the Jews, I started for London. On my arrival I found that my father and mother were both dead, and I was meditating upon my future course of life, when an accident determined me. I picked up a pocket-book,” — (here Captain Debriseau eyed him hard)— “I know what you mean, continued McElvina, but it was on the pavement, and not in a pocket, as you would imply by your looks. It was full of slips and scraps of paper of all sorts, which I did not take the trouble to read. The only available articles it contained, were three one-pound notes. The owner’s name and address were written on the first blank leaf. I cannot tell what possessed me, but I had an irresistible desire to be honest once in my life, and the temptation to be otherwise not being very great, I took the pocket-book to the address, and arrived at the house, just as the old gentleman to whom it belonged was giving directions to have it advertised. He was in evident perturbation at his loss — and I came just at the fortunate moment. He seized his book with rapture, examined all the papers, and counted over the bills and notes.

  “‘Honesty is a scarce commodity, young man,’ said he, as he passed the leathern tongue of the book through the strap. ‘You have brought me my book without waiting till a reward was offered. I desired my clerk to offer twenty guineas in the advertisement — I will now give you a larger sum.’ He sat down, opened a cheque-book, and wrote me a draft on his banker. It was for one hundred pounds! I was profuse in my acknowledgments, while he replaced his book in his inside-pocket, and buttoned up his coat. ‘Honesty is a scarce commodity, young man,’ repeated he; ‘call here to-morrow at one o’clock, and I will see if I can be of any further service to you.’

  “I returned to my lodgings in a very thoughtful mood. I was astonished at the old man’s generosity, and still more at my having honestly obtained so large a sum. I went to bed, and reflected on what had passed. The words of the old gentleman still rang in my ears— ‘Honesty is a scarce commodity.’ I communed with myself. Here have I been nearly all my life, exercising all my talents, exerting all my energies in dishonest practices, and when did I, even at the most successful hit, obtain as much money as I have by an honest act? I recalled the many days of anxious waiting that I had found necessary to accomplish a scheme of fraud — the doubtful success — the necessity of satisfying my associates — the inability of turning into ready money the articles purloined until the hue and cry was over — the trifling sum which I was obliged to take from the purchasers of stolen articles, who knew that I was at their mercy — the destitute condition I occasionally was in — and the life of constant anxiety that I had led. These reflections forced the truth upon my mind, that there was more, in the end, to be gained by honesty than by roguery.

  “Once convinced, I determined to lead a new life, and from that moment I assumed as my motto, ‘Honesty is the best policy.’ Do you hear, youngster?— ‘always be honest.’”

  Chapter Eleven.

  Through tattered clothes small vices do appear; Robes and furred gowns hide all.

  Lear.

  Willy, who was tired out with the extreme mental and bodily exertion that he had undergone, gave no answer to McElvina’s injunction, except a loud snore, which satisfied the captain that his caution in this instance was not heard.

  “Well,” said Debriseau, after a short pause, “how long did this honest fit last?”

  “What do you mean? — how long did it last? Why, it has lasted, — Captain Debriseau, — it has lasted until now; and shall last, too, as long as this frame of mine shall hold together. But to proceed. The next morning I called upon the old gentleman according to his request. He again told me, ‘honesty was a scarce commodity.’ I could have informed him that it had always been so with me, but I kept my own counsel. He then asked me what were my profession and pursuits? Now, as I had two professions to choose between, and as my last was considered to be just as abundant in the commodity he prized so much, as my former one was known to be deficient, I replied that I was a seafaring man. ‘Then I may find some employment for you,’ replied the old gentleman; and having put several questions to me as to the nature of the service I had seen, he desired me to take a walk till three o’clock, when he would be happy to see me at dinner:— ‘We’ll then be able to have a little conversation together, without being over-heard.’

  “I was exact to my appointment, and my old friend, who was punctuality itself, did not allow me to remain in the parlour two minutes before dinner was on the table. As soon as it was over, he dismissed the servant girl who attended, and turned the key in the door. After sounding me on many points, during a rapid discussion of the first bottle of port, he proceeded to inform me, that a friend of his wanted a smart fellow as captain of a vessel, if I would like the employment. This suited me; and he then observed that I must have some notion of how officers were managed, as I had been in the China trade, and that he thought that the vessel was to be employed in the contraband trade on the English coast.

  “This startled me a little, for I was afraid that the old gentleman was laying a trap for my newly-acquired commodity; and I was about to refuse with some slight show of indignation, when I perceived a change in his countenance, indicative of disappointment — so I only demurred until he had sufficient time to prove that there was no dishonesty in the transaction, when, being convinced that he was in earnest, I consented. Before the second bottle was finished, I found out that it was not for a friend, but for himself, and for one of his own vessels, that he was anxious to procure a smart captain; and that he had a large capital embarked in the concern, which was very profitable. The pocket-book which I had returned was of no little importance: had it fallen into other hands, it might have told tales.

  “I have now been three years in the old gentleman’s employ, and a generous good master he has been: and his daughter is a sweet pretty girl. I lost my last vessel, but not until she had cleared him 10,000 pounds; and now the old gentleman is building me another at Havre. Not to be quite idle, I have in the meantime taken command of one of their sloops: for the old gentleman has a good many shares in the speculation, and his recommendations are always attended to.

  “Voici, Monsieur Beaujou, avec les habits,” said the maître d’auberge opening the door and ushering in the marchand des modes maritimes, with a huge bundle.

  “Now, then, boy, rouse out,” said McElvina, shaking our hero for a long while, without any symptoms of recovering him from his lethargy.

  “Try him on the other tack,” said the captain, lifting him off the sofa, and placing him upright on his legs.

  “There’s no sugar in it yet,” said Willy, who was dreaming that he was supplying the mulled claret to the old master’s mate.

  “Ah,” said Debriseau, laughing, “he thinks his mamma is giving him his tea.”

  “The lying little rascal told me this morning that he had no mother. Come, Mr William Seymour, I believe” (mimicking)— “officer, I believe — Oh, you’re a nice honest boy. Have you a mother, or do you tell fibs in your sleep as well as awake? ‘Be honest.’”

  The last words that Willy had heard repeated so often during the day not only unsealed his eyes, but recalled to his recollection where he was.

  “Now, my youngster, let us rig you out; you recollect you stated that you were going home for your outfit, and now I’ll give you one, that you may have one fib less on your conscience.”

  By the generosity of McElvina, Willy was soon fitted with two suits of clothes, requiring little alteration, and Mr Beaujou, having received a further order for a supply of shirts, and other articles necessary to complete, made his bow and disappeared.

  The two captains resumed their chairs, and our hero again coiled himself on the sofa, and in one minute was as sound asleep as before.

  “And now, McElvina,” resumed Debriseau, “I should like to know by what arguments your employer contrived to reconcile your present vocation with your punctilious regard for honesty? For I must confess, for my own part, that although I have followed smuggling as a livelihood, I have never defended it as an honest calling, and have looked forward with occasional impatience to the time when I should be able to leave it off.”

  “Defend it! Why I’ll just repeat to you the arguments used by the old gentleman. They convinced me. As I said before, I am always open to conviction. Captain Debriseau, you will acknowledge, I trust, that laws are made for the benefit of all parties, high and low, rich and poor?”

  “Granted.”

  “You’ll allow also, that law-makers should not be lawbreakers; and that if they are so, they cannot expect that others will regard what they disregard themselves.”

  “Granted also.”

  “Once more — by the laws of our country, the receiver is as bad as the thief, and they who instigate others to commit an offence are equally guilty with the offending party.”

  “It cannot be denied,” replied Debriseau.

  “Then you have acceded to all the propositions that I wish, and we shall come to an undeniable and mathematical conclusion. Observe, law-makers should not be law-breakers. Who enacted these laws? — the aristocracy of the nation, seated in their respective houses, the Lords and the Commons. Go, any night you please, to the Opera, or any other place of public resort, in which you can have a view of their wives and daughter. I’ll stake my existence that every female there shall be disened out in some contraband article of dress — not one but shall prove to be a receiver of smuggled goods, and, therefore, as bad as those whom they have instigated to infringe the laws of their country. If there were no demand there would be no supply.”

  “Surely they don’t all drink gin?” replied Debriseau.

  “Drink gin! You’re thinking of your damned Cherbourg trade, — your ideas are confined. Is there nothing smuggled besides gin? Now, if the husbands and fathers of these ladies, — those who have themselves enacted the laws, — wink at their infringement, why should not others do so? The only distinction between the equally offending parties is, that those who are in power, — who possess all the comforts and luxuries which this world can afford, — who offend the laws from vanity and caprice, and entice the needy to administer to their love of display, are protected and unpunished; while the adventurous seaman, whose means of supporting his family depend upon his administering to their wishes, or the poor devil who is unfortunately detected with a gallon of spirits, is thrown into gaol as if he were a felon. There cannot be one law for the rich and another for the poor, Debriseau. When I hear that the wives of the aristocracy have been seized by the revenue officers, and the contraband articles which they wear have been taken off their backs, and that they have been sentenced to twelve months’ imprisonment, by a committal from the magistrate, then — and not till then — will I acknowledge our profession to be dishonest.”

  “Very true,” said Debriseau; “it shows the folly of men attempting to make laws for their masters.”

  “Is it not shocking,” continued McElvina, “to reflect upon the conduct of the magistrate, who has just sentenced perhaps four or five unhappy wretches to a dungeon for an offence against these laws? He leaves the seat of Justice, and returns to the bosom of his family. Here his wife,” (mimicking)—”’Well, my dear, you’re come at last — dinner has been put back this half-hour. I thought you would never have finished with those odious smugglers.’ ‘Why, my love, it was a very difficult case to prove; but we managed it at last, and I have signed the warrant for their committal to the county gaol. They’re sad, troublesome fellows, these smugglers.’ — Now look at the lady: ‘What dress is that you put on to greet your husband?’ ‘Gros de Naples de Lyon.’— ‘The lace it is trimmed with?’ ‘Valenciennes,’— ‘Your gloves, madam?’ ‘Fabrique de Paris.’— ‘Your ribands, your shoes, your handkerchief?’ All, all contraband. — Worthy magistrate, if you would hold the scales of Justice with an even hand, make out one more mittimus before you sit down to table. Send your wife to languish a twelvemonth in company with the poor smugglers, and then ‘to dinner with what appetite you may.’ And now, Debriseau, have I convinced you that I may follow my present calling, and still say— ‘be honest?’”

  “Why, yes, I think we both may; but would not this evil be removed by free trade?”

  “Heaven forbid!” replied McElvina, laughing; “then there would be no smuggling.”

  Chapter Twelve.

  Love me, love my dog.

  Proverb.

  It is the misfortune of those who have been in constant habits of deceit that they always imagine others are attempting the same dishonest practices. For some time McElvina felt convinced that our little hero had swerved from truth in the account which he gave of himself; and it was not until after repeated catechisings, in which he found that, strange and improbable as the narrative appeared, Willy never altered from or contradicted his original statement, that he believed the boy to be as honest and ingenuous as might have been inferred from his prepossessing countenance.

  To this conviction, how ever, did he arrive at last; and our hero — who seemed no sooner to have lost one protector than to have the good fortune to find another — became the favourite and companion of his new captain, instead of his domestic, as had been originally contemplated. A lad of Willy’s age, who is treated with kindness and consideration, is soon attached, and becomes reconciled to any change of circumstances. It was a matter of indifference to our hero whether he was on the quarter-deck of a man-of-war or in the cabin of a smuggling sloop. Contented with his present lot, — with the happy thoughtlessness of youth, he never permitted the future to disturb his repose or affect his digestion.

  Willy had been nearly a month at Cherbourg when McElvina’s sloop took in another cargo. “Willy,” said McElvina, one evening as they sat together in the apartment at the cabaret, “to-morrow I shall, in all probability, sail for the English coast. I have been thinking what I shall do with you. I do not much like parting with you; but, on reflection, I think it will be better that I should leave you behind. You can be of no use, and may be in the way if we should be obliged to take to our boat.”

  Willy pleaded hard against this arrangement. “I never have a friend but I lose him directly,” said the boy, and the tears started into his eyes.

  “I trust you will not lose me, my dear fellow,” replied McElvina, moved at this proof of affection; “but I must explain to you why I leave you. In the first place,” added he, laughing, “with that mark on your shoulder, it would be felony without benefit of clergy for you to be found in my possession; but of that I would run the risk. My serious reasons are as follow: — If this trip proves fortunate, I shall not return to Cherbourg. I have business of importance in London, which may require my presence for some weeks in that metropolis and its vicinity. I told you before, that I am about to take the command of a very different vessel from this paltry sloop, and upon a more dangerous service. In four or five months she will be ready to sail, and during that time I shall be constantly on the move, and shall hardly know what to do with you. Now, Willy, you are not aware of the advantages of education — I am: and as mine was given to me by strangers, so will I in return bestow as much upon you as I can afford. You must, therefore, go to school until my return. You will at least acquire the French language, and you will find that of no little use to you hereafter.”

  Willy, accustomed to discipline and to breathe the air of passive obedience, submitted without raising any more objections. Debriseau joined, and they all three sallied forth to make arrangements for placing our hero “en pension,” where they had been recommended. Having effected this, they agreed to lounge on the Place d’Armes till sunset, when they took possession of one of the benches. McElvina and Debriseau lighted their cigars, and puffed away in silence, while Willy amused himself with watching the promenaders as they passed in review before him.

  They had not remained there many minutes when a poodle-dog, bien tondu, and white as a sheep from the river before the day of shearing, walked up to them with an air of sagacious curiosity, and looked McElvina steadfastly in the face. McElvina, taking his cigar from his mouth, held it to the dog, who ran up to it, as if to smell it; the lighted end coming in contact with his cold nose, induced the animal to set up a loud yell, and retreat to his master much faster than he came, passing first one fore-paw and then the other over his nose, to wipe away the pain, in such a ridiculous manner as to excite loud merriment, not only from our party on the bench, but also from others who had witnessed the scene.

  “So much for curiosity,” said McElvina, continuing his mirth. The proprietor of the dog, a young Frenchman, dressed very much “en calicot,” did not, however, seem quite so much amused with this practical joke; he cocked his hat fiercely on one side, raised his figure to the utmost of its height, and walking up, en grand militaire addressed McElvina, with “Comment, monsieur, vous avez fait une grande bêtise-là — vous m’insultez—”

  “I think I had better not understand French,” said McElvina, aside to Debriseau; then turning to the Frenchman, with a grave face, and air of incomprehension,— “What did you say, sir?”

  “Ah! you are Inglishman. You not speak French?” — McElvina shook his head, and began to puff away his cigar.