He who was the farthest on the spar, feeling the impossibility of passinghis companions, and yet passionately dreading the disgrace of theflogging, threw himself desperately down to catch a rope considerablylower, failed, and fell senseless on deck. He only survived for a fewhours afterwards, and the indignation of the ship"s crew was at boilingpoint when young Hale wrote.
"But we did not receive this letter till long, long after we heard of themutiny. Poor Fred! I dare say it was a comfort to him to write it eventhough he could not have known how to send it, poor fellow! And thenwe saw a report in the papers--that"s to say, long before Fred"s letterreached us--of an atrocious mutiny having broken out on board theRussell, and that the mutineers had remained in possession of the ship,which had gone off, it was supposed, to be a pirate; and that CaptainReid was sent adrift in a boat with some men--officers or something-whosenames were all given, for they were picked up by a West-Indiansteamer. Oh, Margaret! how your father and I turned sick over that list,when there was no name of Frederick Hale. We thought it must be somemistake; for poor Fred was such a fine fellow, only perhaps rather toopassionate; and we hoped that the name of Carr, which was in the list,was a misprint for that of Hale--newspapers are so careless. Andtowards post-time the next day, papa set off to walk to Southampton toget the papers; and I could not stop at home, so I went to meet him. Hewas very late--much later than I thought he would have been; and I satdown under the hedge to wait for him. He came at last, his armshanging loose down, his head sunk, and walking heavily along, as ifevery step was a labour and a trouble. Margaret, I see him now."
"Don"t go on, mamma. I can understand it all," said Margaret, leaning upcaressingly against her mother"s side, and kissing her hand.
"No, you can"t, Margaret. No one can who did not see him then. I couldhardly lift myself up to go and meet him--everything seemed so to reelaround me all at once. And when I got to him, he did not speak, or seemsurprised to see me there, more than three miles from home, beside theOldham beech-tree; but he put my arm in his, and kept stroking myhand, as if he wanted to soothe me to be very quiet under some greatheavy blow; and when I trembled so all over that I could not speak, hetook me in his arms, and stooped down his head on mine, and began toshake and to cry in a strange muffled, groaning voice, till I, for veryfright, stood quite still, and only begged him to tell me what he hadheard. And then, with his hand jerking, as if some one else moved itagainst his will, he gave me a wicked newspaper to read, calling ourFrederick a "traitor of the blackest dye," "a base, ungrateful disgrace tohis profession." Oh! I cannot tell what bad words they did not use. Itook the paper in my hands as soon as I had read it--I tore it up to littlebits--I tore it--oh! I believe Margaret, I tore it with my teeth. I did notcry. I could not. My cheeks were as hot as fire, and my very eyes burntin my head. I saw your father looking grave at me. I said it was a lie,and so it was. Months after, this letter came, and you see whatprovocation Frederick had. It was not for himself, or his own injuries,he rebelled; but he would speak his mind to Captain Reid, and so itwent on from bad to worse; and you see, most of the sailors stuck byFrederick.
"I think, Margaret," she continued, after a pause, in a weak, trembling,exhausted voice, "I am glad of it--I am prouder of Frederick standing upagainst injustice, than if he had been simply a good officer."
"I am sure I am," said Margaret, in a firm, decided tone. "Loyalty andobedience to wisdom and justice are fine; but it is still finer to defyarbitrary power, unjustly and cruelly used-not on behalf of ourselves,but on behalf of others more helpless."
"For all that, I wish I could see Frederick once more--just once. He wasmy first baby, Margaret." Mrs. Hale spoke wistfully, and almost as ifapologising for the yearning, craving wish, as though it were adepreciation of her remaining child. But such an idea never crossedMargaret"s mind. She was thinking how her mother"s desire could befulfilled.
"It is six or seven years ago--would they still prosecute him, mother? Ifhe came and stood his trial, what would be the punishment? Surely, hemight bring evidence of his great provocation."
"It would do no good," replied Mrs. Hale. "Some of the sailors whoaccompanied Frederick were taken, and there was a court-martial heldon them on board the Amicia; I believed all they said in their defence,poor fellows, because it just agreed with Frederick"s story--but it was ofno use,--" and for the first time during the conversation Mrs. Hale beganto cry; yet something possessed Margaret to force the information sheforesaw, yet dreaded, from her mother.
"What happened to them, mamma?" asked she.
"They were hung at the yard-arm," said Mrs. Hale, solemnly. "And theworst was that the court, in condemning them to death, said they hadsuffered themselves to be led astray from their duty by their superiorofficers."
They were silent for a long time.
"And Frederick was in South America for several years, was he not?"
"Yes. And now he is in Spain. At Cadiz, or somewhere near it. If hecomes to England he will be hung. I shall never see his face again--forif he comes to England he will be hung."
There was no comfort to be given. Mrs. Hale turned her face to the wall,and lay perfectly still in her mother"s despair. Nothing could be said toconsole her. She took her hand out of Margaret"s with a little impatientmovement, as if she would fain be left alone with the recollection of herson. When Mr. Hale came in, Margaret went out, oppressed withgloom, and seeing no promise of brightness on any side of the horizon.
