CHAPTER I.
IT HAS BEEN SAID by a somewhat celebrated author, that love of adventure is hereditary, and never more has this saying been verified than in my own life, Although my father was but a poor shoe-maker, that never strayed from his own native village, still, my great great great grandfather on my mother’s side, after whom I have the honor of being named, was an inveterate traveller, as may be seen by perusing his life, written by an eminent divine long since departed this life.
At the age of sixteen I became disgusted with the low work of a shoe shop, and having contracted the pernicious habit of reading novels, and those of the most exciting character, I became fully impressed with the idea that I was destined to become a great man. My father having lived so long in the small village upon the banks of the Hudson, where I was born, had lost all ambition, save that of hoarding money. Of my mother I knew nothing, save that which was related of her by my father, who often pointed to an old dust-covered portrait of a very stern-looking matron, assuring me that it was the portrait of my mother. I did not look upon the picture with love, but with a sensation of fear, and in fact was impressed with the idea that the spirit of my mother inhabited it.
“Why,” reasoned I with myself, “why does it gaze at me so angrily, if the spirit of my mother is not there? I must have done something wrong.”
Then sometimes the portrait would appear to look mildly, and even lovingly at me, and tears of joy would start to my eyes at the thought that my mother approved of me. This belief was strengthened by my perceiving that the eyes seemed to follow me wherever I went in the room. And, moreover, my father confirmed it, by assuring me that the spirit of my mother did in reality inhabit the picture, and should I presume to move the frame, it would certainly speak to me. This haunted my imagination until I was devoured by an insatiable curiosity to move it.
“Surely,” thought I, “my mother will do me no harm; perhaps she wishes to speak to me, and may give me good advice.”
Thus reasoning, I came to the conclusion to move the picture at all hazards. One summer afternoon my father left the shop in my charge, while he carried a pair of boots, just finished, to a rich old farmer that resided about two miles from the village. I well knew that my father would not hire a horse, and was so generally disliked by his neighbors that none of them would lend him one. Certain of this, and knowing I had sufficient time, I determined upon moving the picture that afternoon. Shutting the doors of the shop and locking them, with trembling hand I opened the small glass door that led into the parlor. How dark it looked in that little dusky parlor. The blinds were closely fastened, and the furniture all thickly covered with dust. The portrait hung directly opposite the door, so that the light fell full upon its face, appearing to my distorted imagination as though it was endowed with life. I beat my bosom with my clenched hand to renew my courage; then mounting upon a chair, attempted to move the picture, when a large bag fell from behind striking upon the floor with a chinking sound. Stooping to examine it, I found it to be a leather bag nearly full of bright golden coins. I looked at them for a moment, and then the thought flashed through my mind—take them and leave your father; it will never be known. But a small, still voice seemed to whisper in my ear:
“Thou shalt not steal!”
And I placed them back in their resting place, returning to the shop with a lightened heart, at the thought of having resisted and overcome evil. I had sat bending over my work but a few minutes, when a great crowd of villagers came thronging around the door. Four of them entered the shop, bearing upon a plank the dead body of my father, which they had found in a small creek, into which he had fallen and was drowned. This was the only account I ever received, which was related by a sympathising neighbor that was present at the coroner’s inquest.
Thus, by the sudden death of my poor father, I was left alone in the world, but the treasure I had found in the old portrait, left me independent to follow my own desires. I offered my shop for sale, which was bought by a young neighbor, who was a gainer by the transaction, as I was not much of a tradesman. I secured my bag of gold, which, upon closer examination, proved to be Dutch coins, “guilders,” and upon computing them, found that I was the possessor of a fortune of about five hundred dollars.
I determined that I would go to sea. In my novel readings-I had read much of sea-adven- tures, and my heart yearned to experience them. I therefore immediately started for the city of New York, leaving my native village without regret, having formed no attachments either for its inhabitants or localities. Having arrived at New York, all I saw was new, and I was delighted for a short time with the gaiety and bustle of the city, but having no acquaintances, the excitement soon passed, and I was more eager to reach the scenes of my future adventures. While rambling among the shipping, I saw upon the rigging of one of the vessels, the announcement, “For Canton.”
”That’s the ship,” thought I, and immediately went on board to engage my passage. I found the captain in the cabin, and having stated my wish to engage passage with him, he inquired if I could write. I answered in the affirmative; whereupon, after giving him a sample of my penmanship, he said he wished for just such a lad as I, to write his log up, and that if I would go, he would give me four dollars a month and. my passage. I immediately accepted the offer, and having sent for my trunk, which was at my boarding-house, I determined to remain on board until the vessel sailed, which was advertised to be on the next day. Nevertheless, it was several days before we had a fair wind, but at last when my patience was almost exhausted, and I had nearly given up hopes of sailing at all, the captain gave orders, and we were soon upon the blue waves of the Atlantic. I shall not describe the routine of a voyage at sea, but will hasten over several weeks, during which time I was employed in writing upon the captain’s log, a sort of journal of daily events.
One day I was amusing myself by watching the dolphins, as they gambolled beneath the bow of our vessel. The sea was as smooth as a mirror—just enough wind to give the ship good steering-way. Suddenly a dark cloud appeared upon the horizon, and sweeping towards the vessel, the captain perceiving it, gave orders that the sails should be taken in, but before they were obeyed, the squall struck the vessel, and she was thrown upon her beam ends, and I fell from where I had been standing, upon the bow, into the sea; and after sinking to a great depth under the water, I rose to the surface much exhausted, and panting for breath. At a short distance from me I saw a large rock, which protruded itself some distance above the water. I hastily swam towards it, and with great difficulty contrived to gain its summit. I found it entirely barren. It was of a circular form, and could not have been more than fifty feet in circumference. I looked out upon the ocean, in the hopes of finding my companions, but could see no signs of vessel or crew. The sudden shock must have swamped the ship, and the crew most undoubtedly went down with her. In passing around the ledge of the rock I discovered a large opening just above the water’s edge, apparently leading into the centre of the rock, and was about entering it, when I was startled by a loud voice from the interior:
“Ho! Ceberus, to the entrance!”
A rattling sound then followed, and a huge black bear, around whose neck was suspended an iron chain, rushed at me with open mouth. I started back in terror at this fearful reception, but the monster’s chain was not of sufficient length to allow hin to injure me. The same voice now addressed me from the dark depths of the cavern:
“Who art thou?”
I gave him my name, and why I came to the island. After concluding, I heard a stamping sound, somewhat like the sound made by a goat when walking upon a stone floor, and the owner of the gruff voice stood before me. He appeared to be a very old man.
His black beard was long, nearly descending to his girdle—his hair was thin and very white—his eyes blue and nearly concealed by large swollen eyelids, which were entirely divested of eye-lashes. He had in place of legs two wooden stumps, pointed with iron, producing when he walked, the clattering sound I had heard. He gazed at me in silence for some time, then muttering to himself, “he’ll do,” beckoned me to follow him, which I lost no time in doing. Descending a narrow stair-case, cut in the solid rock, we arrived at a room which must have been under the surface of the water. It was about twelve feet square. Various door-shaped openings placed at regular intervals around the sides of the room, proved that this was not the only apartment. Hanging from the walls, were telescopes, quadrants, and other astronomical instruments, and upon a large stone table, placed in the centre of the room, was a huge celestial globe. In one corner of the room was placed a large hollow cylinder, sharp. pointed at one end, and mounted with a vane at the other. I had scarcely time to observe these objects, when the old man, pointing to a chair, bade me be seated.
“I have long,” said he, “wished for a companion, or an assistant, one who will serve me faithfully, and, if you choose, I would like to have you. There is no way by which you can escape from this island without my aid, as it is never visited by vessels, unless like yours they are driven out of their regular course. If you will follow my directions implicitly, without questioning my motives, I have it in my power to amply reward you.”
Thus saying, he opened a small trap-door, and disclosed to my astonished gaze heaps upon heaps of golden coin and precious stones, I never before dreamed that I should see so much wealth. I confess the thought once came across me to assault the old man and rob him of the treasure; the large amount so dazzled my eyes; this is the only excuse I have for so thinking, for I have naturally a very tender conscience. It was merely a passing thought, however, for the next moment repelled the idea with disgust. The old man seemed to have fathomed my thoughts.
“You think,” said he, “that you might be able to slay me, and then take the treasure; but ere you attempt it, feel of my arm,”at the same time extending his arm for my inspection. I felt of it. The muscles stood out, so that when I pressed my fingers closely around it, they felt like bundles of steel wire.
“Lift that stone,” said he, pointing to a large globe-shaped rock, lying at my feet. I attempted it in vain. Laughing at my endeavors, he seized the stone and tossed it from hand to hand with as much apparent ease as a boy would a marble.
“Dismiss all thoughts,”he continued, “of obtaining any portion of that treasure without my sanction, but apply yourself to my instruction, and part of it shall be yours.”
He then entered an adjoining room, and soon returned, bearing several large books in his arms. Opening one, he pointed out a passage which should serve me as my morning lesson, and then left me to my studies. I never was a studious scholar; in fact I was always considered the veriest dunce in school. Therefore, it was with no great satisfaction that I turned to the enormous book before me. But the love of gold, if not the thirst after knowledge, overcame the repugnance, and I diligently applied myself to the task. Upon examination, I found that the book was not printed, but written in a bold, clear hand. To my surprise, I did not become fatigued with my task. No! I read, and re-read, and as I followed the writer through his explanations and descriptions of the complex arrangements of the heavenly bodies, I became interested in spite of myself, and would have liked to have read more, but at the very moment when I had arrived at the line where he had said my lesson should cease, he entered the room, and taking the book from me, carried it into the other apartment. Returning, he suddenly and loudly clapped his hands together, at which signal, a large rock at the farther end of the chamber turned over, as on a pivot, and another room was exposed, in which were placed two small tables, covered with food. At a signal from the old man, I accompanied him into the room, and sat down to the best meal that I had tasted since leaving my own country.