The Madman and the Pirate | Page 9

patience, for the poor boy, overcome by
mingled joy and exhaustion, fell back in a swoon almost as soon as he
was hauled out of the water.
Need we describe the state into which poor Madame Zeppa was thrown
when Orlando returned to her?--the strange mingling of grief and

terrible anxiety about her husband's fate, with grateful joy at the
restoration of her son? We think not!
Ebony, the faithful and sable servitor of the family, got hold of Orlando
as soon as his poor mother would let him go, and hurried him off to a
certain nook in the neighbouring palm-grove where he was wont to
retire at times for meditation.
"You's quite sure yous fadder was not shooted?" he began, in gasping
anxiety, when he had forced the boy down on a grassy bank.
"I think not," replied Orley, with a faint smile at the negro's eagerness.
"But you must remember that I was almost unconscious from the blow
I received, and scarce knew what was done."
"But you no hear no shootin'?" persisted Ebony.
"No; and if any shots had been fired, I feel certain I should have heard
and remembered them."
"Good! den der's a chance yous fadder's alive, for if de no hab shooted
him at first, de no hab de heart to shoot him arterwards. No, he'd smile
away der wikitness; de couldn' do it."
Orlando was unable to derive much comfort from this sanguine view of
the influence of his father's smile--bright and sweet though he knew it
to be--yet with the energy of youth he grasped at any straw of hope
held out to him. All the more that Ebony's views were emphatically
backed up by the chiefs Tomeo and Buttchee, both of whom asserted
that Zeppa had never failed in anything he had ever undertaken, and
that it was impossible he should fail now. Thus encouraged, Orlando
returned home to comfort his mother.
Chapter III.
But Orley's mother refused to be comforted. What she had heard or
read of pirates induced her to believe that mercy must necessarily be
entirely banished from their hearts; and her husband, she knew full well,

would sooner die than join them. Therefore, she argued in her despair,
Antonio must have perished.
"But mother," said Orley, in a soothing tone, "you must remember that
Rosco and his men are not regular pirates. I only heard them shout
'Hoist the black flag!' when they seized me; but that does not prove that
they did hoist it, or that Rosco agreed to do so. They were only
mutineers, you see, and not hardened villains."
"Hardened enough when they threw you overboard, my son," returned
poor little Madame Zeppa, with a sob.
"True; but that was in the hurry of the rising, and without orders from
Rosco, as far as I know. Besides, mother, have you not often told me
that God will never forsake His own children? Surely, then, He will not
forsake father."
"No, oh, no! the good Lord will never forsake him. He will certainly
deliver his soul from sin and death; but God sometimes sees fit to allow
the bodies of His children to suffer and die. It may be so now."
"Yes, mother, but also it may not be so now. Let us take a hopeful view,
and do what we can to find out--to find--to--"
Poor Orlando broke down here, laid his head on his little mother's
shoulder, and wept for his mind had suddenly run itself blank. What
was there to find out? what could they do? Nothing, absolutely nothing,
except pray; and they did that fervently.
Then Orley went out to consult again with his friends. Alas! there was
no other outlet for their grief, save prayer and consultation, for action
was, in the circumstances, impossible.
"Bin t'ink, t'inkin' horroble hard all last night. Couldn' sleep a wink,"
said Ebony one day, some weeks after the return of Orlando, when,
according to custom, he and the native missionary and his wife, with
the chiefs Tomeo and Buttchee, assembled for a consultation in the
palm-grove.

"What have you been thinking about?" asked Orley.
"Yous fadder, ob course."
"Of course," repeated the boy, "but what have you been thinking about
him--anything new?"
"Not zackly noo," returned the negro, with a very earnest look, "but ole
t'oughts turned in a noo d'rection. Sit down, Tomeo, an' I will tell
you--an' try to forgit yous hat if poss'ble. It's 'xtroarnar good lookin',
a'most as much good lookin' as yousself, so you got no occashin to be
always t'inkin' about it."
We may remark here that both Tomeo and Buttchee understood a little
of Ebony's English, though they could not speak a word. The reader
will understand, therefore, that when we put words in their mouths we
only give