The Madman and the Pirate | Page 5

were some among these villains who, having once given the
reins to their rage, were capable of anything. These, ready to act on the
diabolical suggestion, attempted to drag Zeppa and the captain up the
companion ladder, but their great size and weight rendered the effort
difficult. Besides, Zeppa's consciousness was returning, and he
struggled powerfully. It was otherwise with poor Orlando. One of the
ruffians easily raised the lad's light frame and bore him to the deck.
Next moment a sharp cry and splash were heard. Zeppa understood it,
for he had seen his son carried away. With a wild shout he burst from
those who held him, and would certainly have gained the deck and

leaped overboard had not a mutineer from behind felled him a second
time.
When Rosco heard what had been done he ran furiously on deck, but
one glance at the dark sea, as the schooner rushed swiftly over it
sufficed to show him that the poor boy's case was hopeless.
But Orley's case was not as hopeless as it seemed. The plunge revived
him. Accustomed to swim for hours at a time in these warm waters, he
found no difficulty in supporting himself. Of course his progress was
aimless, for he could not see any distance around him, but a friend had
been raised up for him in that desperate hour. At the moment he had
been tossed overboard, a sailor, with a touch of pity left in his breast
had seized a life-buoy and thrown it after him. Orlando, after
swimming about for a few minutes, struck against this buoy by
chance--if we may venture to use that word in the circumstances.
Seizing the life-preserver with an earnest "thank God" in his heart if not
on his lips, he clung to it and looked anxiously around.
The sight was sufficiently appalling. Thick darkness still brooded on
the deep, and nothing was visible save, now and then, the crest of a
breaking wave as it passed close to him, or, rolling under him, deluged
his face with spray.
Chapter II.
When Antonio Zeppa recovered consciousness, he found himself lying
on a mattress in the schooner's hold, bound, bleeding, and with a dull
and dreadful sense of pain at his breast, which at first he could not
account for. Ere long the sudden plash of a wave on the vessel's side
recalled his mind to his bereavement; and a cry--loud, long, and
terrible--arose from the vessel's hold, which caused even the stoutest
and most reckless heart on board to quail.
Richard Rosco--now a pirate captain--heard it as he sat alone in his
cabin, his elbows resting on the table, and his white face buried in his
hands. He did not repent--he could not repent; at least so he said to

himself while the fires kindled by a first great crime consumed him.
Men do not reach the profoundest depths of wickedness at one bound.
The descent is always graduated--for there are successive rounds to the
ladder of sin--but it is sometimes awfully sudden. When young Rosco
left England he had committed only deeds which men are apt lightly to
name the "follies" of youth. These follies, however, had proved to be
terrible leaks through which streams of corruption had flowed in upon
his soul. Still, he had no thought of becoming a reckless or heartless
man, and would have laughed to scorn any one who should have hinted
that he would ever become an outlaw and a pirate. But oppression bore
heavily on his hasty, ill-disciplined temper, and now the lowest round
of the ladder had been reached.
Even in this extremity he did not utterly give way. He would not
become an out-and-out pirate. He would merely go forth as a plunderer
to revenge himself on the world which had used him so ill. He would
rob--but he would not kill; except of course in self-defence, or when
men refused to give up what he demanded. He would temper retributive
justice with mercy, and would not suffer injury to women or children.
In short, he would become a semi-honourable, high-minded sort of
pirate, pursuing wealth without bloodshed! True, in the sad case of
poor Orlando, he had not managed to steer clear of murder; but then
that deed was done without his orders or knowledge. If his comrades in
crime had agreed, he would have preferred some sort of smuggling
career; but they would not listen to that, so he had at last consented to
hoist the black flag.
While the wretched youth was endeavouring to delude himself and
gather crumbs of comfort from such thoughts as these, the awful cry
from the ship's hold again rang out, and as his thoughts reverted to the
bereaved father, and the fair, light-hearted little mother on Ratinga