To sleep at nights as sweetly as a child —
Now if the wind blew rough, it made me start,
And think of my poor boy tossing about
Upon the roaring seas. And then I seemed
To feel that it was hard to take him from me
For such a little fault.’
SOUTHEY.
It was a comfort to Margaret about this time, to find that her mother drew more tenderly and intimately towards her than she had ever done since the days of her childhood. She took her to her heart as a confidential1 friend — the post Margaret had always longed to fill, and had envied Dixon for being preferred to. Margaret took pains to respond to every call made upon her for sympathy — and they were many — even when they bore relation to trifles, which she would no more have noticed or regarded herself than the elephant would perceive the little pin at his feet, which yet he lifts carefully up at the bidding of his keeper. All unconsciously Margaret drew near to a reward.
One evening, Mr. Hale being absent, her mother began to talk to her about her brother Frederick, the very subject on which Margaret had longed to ask questions, and almost the only one on which her timidity overcame her natural openness. The more she wanted to hear about him, the less likely she was to speak.
‘Oh, Margaret, it was so windy last night! It came howling down the chimney in our room! I could not sleep. I never can when there is such a terrible wind. I got into a wakeful habit when poor Frederick was at sea; and now, even if I don’t waken all at once, I dream of him in some stormy sea, with great, clear, glass-green walls of waves on either side his ship, but far higher than her very masts, curling over her with that cruel, terrible white foam2, like some gigantic crested3 serpent. It is an old dream, but it always comes back on windy nights, till I am thankful to waken, sitting straight and stiff up in bed with my terror. Poor Frederick! He is on land now, so wind can do him no harm. Though I did think it might shake down some of those tall chimneys.’
‘Where is Frederick now, mamma? Our letters are directed to the care of Messrs. Barbour, at Cadiz, I know; but where is he himself?’
‘I can’t remember the name of the place, but he is not called Hale; you must remember that, Margaret. Notice the F. D. in every corner of the letters. He has taken the name of Dickenson. I wanted him to have been called Beresford, to which he had a kind of right, but your father thought he had better not. He might be recognised, you know, if he were called by my name.’
‘Mamma,’ said Margaret, ‘I was at Aunt Shaw’s when it all happened; and I suppose I was not old enough to be told plainly about it. But I should like to know now, if I may — if it does not give you too much pain to speak about it.’
‘Pain! No,’ replied Mrs. Hale, her cheek flushing. ‘Yet it is pain to think that perhaps I may never see my darling boy again. Or else he did right, Margaret. They may say what they like, but I have his own letters to show, and I’ll believe him, though he is my son, sooner than any court-martial on earth. Go to my little japan cabinet, dear, and in the second left-hand drawer you will find a packet of letters.’
Margaret went. There were the yellow, sea-stained letters, with the peculiar4 fragrance5 which ocean letters have: Margaret carried them back to her mother, who untied6 the silken string with trembling fingers, and, examining their dates, she gave them to Margaret to read, making her hurried, anxious remarks on their contents, almost before her daughter could have understood what they were.
‘You see, Margaret, how from the very first he disliked Captain Reid. He was second lieutenant7 in the ship — the Orion — in which Frederick sailed the very first time. Poor little fellow, how well he looked in his midshipman’s dress, with his dirk in his hand, cutting open all the newspapers with it as if it were a paper-knife! But this Mr. Reid, as he was then, seemed to take a dislike to Frederick from the very beginning. And then — stay! these are the letters he wrote on board the Russell. When he was appointed to her, and found his old enemy Captain Reid in command, he did mean to bear all his tyranny patiently. Look! this is the letter. Just read it, Margaret. Where is it he says — Stop —‘my father may rely upon me, that I will bear with all proper patience everything that one officer and gentleman can take from another. But from my former knowledge of my present captain, I confess I look forward with apprehension8 to a long course of tyranny on board the Russell.’ You see, he promises to bear patiently, and I am sure he did, for he was the sweetest-tempered boy, when he was not vexed9, that could possibly be. Is that the letter in which he speaks of Captain Reid’s impatience10 with the men, for not going through the ship’s manoeuvres as quickly as the Avenger11? You see, he says that they had many new hands on board the Russell, while the Avenger had been nearly three years on the station, with nothing to do but to keep slavers off, and work her men, till they ran up and down the rigging like rats or monkeys.’
Margaret slowly read the letter, half illegible12 through the fading of the ink. It might be-it probably was — a statement of Captain Reid’s imperiousness in trifles, very much exaggerated by the narrator, who had written it while fresh and warm from the scene of altercation13. Some sailors being aloft in the main-topsail rigging, the captain had ordered them to race down, threatening the hindmost with the cat-of-nine-tails. He who was the farthest on the spar, feeling the impossibility of passing his companions, and yet passionately15 dreading16 the disgrace of the flogging, threw himself desperately17 down to catch a rope considerably18 lower, failed, and fell senseless on deck. He only survived for a few hours afterwards, and the indignation of the ship’s crew was at boiling point when young Hale wrote.
‘But we did not receive this letter till long, long after we heard of the mutiny. Poor Fred! I dare say it was a comfort to him to write it even though he could not have known how to send it, poor fellow! And then we saw a report in the papers — that’s to say, long before Fred’s letter reached us — of an atrocious mutiny having broken out on board the Russell, and that the mutineers had remained in possession of the ship, which had gone off, it was supposed, to be a pirate; and that Captain Reid was sent adrift in a boat with some men — officers or something — whose names were all given, for they were picked up by a West–Indian steamer. 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 some mistake; for poor Fred was such a fine fellow, only perhaps rather too passionate14; and we hoped that the name of Carr, which was in the list, was a misprint for that of Hale — newspapers are so careless. And towards post-time the next day, papa set off to walk to Southampton to get the papers; and I could not stop at home, so I went to meet him. He was very late — much later than I thought he would have been; and I sat down under the hedge to wait for him. He came at last, his arms hanging loose down, his head sunk, and walking heavily along, as if every 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 up caressingly19 against her mother’s side, and kissing her hand.
‘No, you can’t, Margaret. No one can who did not see him then. I could hardly lift myself up to go and meet him — everything seemed so to reel around me all at once. And when I got to him, he did not speak, or seem surprised to see me there, more than three miles from home, beside the Oldham beech-tree; but he put my arm in his, and kept stroking my hand, as if he wanted to soothe20 me to be very quiet under some great heavy blow; and when I trembled so all over that I could not speak, he took me in his arms, and stooped down his head on mine, and began to shake and to cry in a strange muffled21, groaning22 voice, till I, for very fright, stood quite still, and only begged him to tell me what he had heard. And then, with his hand jerking, as if some one else moved it against his will, he gave me a wicked newspaper to read, calling our Frederick a “traitor of the blackest dye,” “a base, ungrateful disgrace to his profession.” Oh! I cannot tell what bad words they did not use. I took the paper in my hands as soon as I had read it — I tore it up to little bits — I tore it — oh! I believe Margaret, I tore it with my teeth. I did not cry. I could not. My cheeks were as hot as fire, and my very eyes burnt in 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 what provocation23 Frederick had. It was not for himself, or his own injuries, he rebelled; but he would speak his mind to Captain Reid, and so it went on from bad to worse; and you see, most of the sailors stuck by Frederick.
‘I think, Margaret,’ she continued, after a pause, in a weak, trembling, exhausted24 voice, ‘I am glad of it — I am prouder of Frederick standing25 up against injustice26, than if he had been simply a good officer.’
‘I am sure I am,’ said Margaret, in a firm, decided27 tone. ‘Loyalty and obedience28 to wisdom and justice are fine; but it is still finer to defy arbitrary 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 was my first baby, Margaret.’ Mrs. Hale spoke29 wistfully, and almost as if apologising for the yearning30, craving31 wish, as though it were a depreciation32 of her remaining child. But such an idea never crossed Margaret’s mind. She was thinking how her mother’s desire could be fulfilled.
‘It is six or seven years ago — would they still prosecute33 him, mother? If he came and stood his trial, what would be the punishment? Surely, he might bring evidence of his great provocation.’
‘It would do no good,’ replied Mrs. Hale. ‘Some of the sailors who accompanied Frederick were taken, and there was a court-martial held on 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 of no use — ’ and for the first time during the conversation Mrs. Hale began to cry; yet something possessed34 Margaret to force the information she foresaw, yet dreaded35, from her mother.
‘What happened to them, mamma?’ asked she.
‘They were hung at the yard-arm,’ said Mrs. Hale, solemnly. ‘And the worst was that the court, in condemning36 them to death, said they had suffered themselves to be led astray from their duty by their superior officers.’
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 he comes to England he will be hung. I shall never see his face again — for if 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 perfectly37 still in her mother’s despair. Nothing could be said to console her. She took her hand out of Margaret’s with a little impatient movement, as if she would fain be left alone with the recollection of her son. When Mr. Hale came in, Margaret went out, oppressed with gloom, and seeing no promise of brightness on any side of the horizon.
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1
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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2
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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3
crested
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| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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4
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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5
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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6
untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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7
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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8
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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9
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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10
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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11
avenger
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| n. 复仇者 | |
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12
illegible
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| adj.难以辨认的，字迹模糊的 | |
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13
altercation
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| n.争吵，争论 | |
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14
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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15
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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16
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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17
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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18
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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19
caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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20
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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21
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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22
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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23
provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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24
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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25
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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26
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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27
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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28
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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29
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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30
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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31
craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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32
depreciation
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| n.价值低落，贬值，蔑视，贬低 | |
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33
prosecute
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| vt.告发；进行；vi.告发，起诉，作检察官 | |
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34
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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35
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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36
condemning
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的现在分词 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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37
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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