Gascoyne, The Sandal Wood Trader | Page 3

curve, until all her
canvas fluttered in the breeze, and then dropped anchor in about six
fathoms water.
CHAPTER II.
BUMPUS IS FIERY AND PHILOSOPHICAL--MURDEROUS
DESIGNS FRUSTRATED.
The captain of the schooner, whose deep voice had so suddenly
terminated the meditations of John Bumpus, was one of those men who
seem to have been formed for the special purpose of leading and
commanding their fellows.
He was not only unusually tall and powerful,--physical qualities which,
in themselves, are by no means sufficient to command respect,--but, as
we have said, he possessed a deep, full-toned bass voice, in which there
seemed to lie a species of fascination; for its softest tones riveted
attention, and when it thundered forth commands in the fiercest storms,
it inspired confidence and a feeling of security in all who heard it. The
countenance of the captain, however, was that which induced men to
accord to him a position of superiority in whatever sphere of action he
chanced to move. It was not so much a handsome as a manly and
singularly grave face, in every line of which was written inflexible
determination. His hair was short, black, and curly. A small mustache
darkened his upper lip, but the rest of his face was closely shaven, so
that his large chin and iron jaw were fully displayed. His eyes were of
that indescribable blue color which can exhibit the intensest passion, or
the most melting tenderness.
He wore a somber but somewhat picturesque costume,--a dark-colored
flannel shirt and trousers, which latter were gathered in close round his

lower limbs by a species of drab gaiter that appeared somewhat
incongruous with the profession of the man. The only bit of bright
color about him was a scarlet belt round his waist, from the side of
which depended a long knife in a brown leather sheath. A pair of light
shoes, and a small round cap resembling what is styled in these days a
pork-pie, completed his costume. He was about forty years of age.
Such was the commander, or captain, or skipper of this
suspicious-looking schooner,--a man pre-eminently fitted for the
accomplishment of much good, or the perpetration of great evil.
As soon as the anchor touched the ground, the captain ordered a small
boat to be lowered, and, leaping into it with two men, one of whom was
our friend John Bumpus, rowed toward the shore.
"Have you brought your kit with you, John?" inquired the captain, as
the little boat shot over the smooth waters of the bay.
"Wot's of it, sir," replied our rugged seaman, holding up a small bundle
tied in a red cotton handkerchief, "I s'pose our cruise ashore won't be a
long one."
"It will be long for you, my man,--at least as far as the schooner is
concerned, for I do not mean to take you aboard again."
"Not take me aboard agin!" exclaimed the sailor, with a look of surprise
which quickly degenerated into an angry frown and thereafter gradually
relaxed into a broad grin as he continued: "Why, capting, wot do you
mean to do with me then? for I'm a heavy piece of goods, d'ye see, and
can't be easily moved about without a small touch o' my own consent,
you know."
Jo Bumpus, as he was fond of styling himself, said this with a
serio-comic air of sarcasm, for he was an exception to the general rule
of his fellows. He had little respect for, and no fear of, his commander.
Indeed, to say truth (for truth must be told, even though the character of
our rugged friend should suffer), Jo entertained a most profound belief
in the immense advantage of muscular strength and vigor in general,

and of his own prowess in particular.
Although not quite so gigantic a man as his captain, he was nearly so,
and, being a bold, self-reliant fellow, he felt persuaded in his own mind
that he could thrash him, if need were. In fact, Jo was convinced that
there was no living creature under the sun, human or otherwise, that
walked upon two legs, that he could not pommel to death, with more or
less ease, by means of his fists alone. And in this conviction he was not
far wrong. Yet it must not be supposed that Jo Bumpus was a boastful
man or a bully. Far from it. He was so thoroughly persuaded of his
invincibility that he felt there was no occasion to prove it. He therefore
followed the natural bent of his inclinations, which led him at all times
to exhibit a mild, amiable, and gentle aspect,--except, of course, when
he was roused. As occasion for being roused was not wanting in the
South Seas in those days, Jo's amiability was frequently put to the test.
He sojourned,