On the generous Boldheart′s proposal, it was at length resolved that he should not be cooked, but should be allowed to remain raw, on two conditions, namely:
1. That he should never, under any circumstances, presume to teach any boy anything any more.
2. That, if taken back to England, he should pass his life in travelling to find out boys who wanted their exercises done, and should do their exercises for those boys for nothing, and never say a word about it.
Drawing the sword from its sheath, Boldheart swore him to these conditions on its shining blade. The prisoner wept bitterly, and appeared acutely to feel the errors of his past career.
The captain then ordered his boat′s crew to make ready for a volley, and after firing to re-load quickly. ′And expect a score or two on ye to go head over heels,′ murmured William Boozey; ′for I′m a-looking at ye.′ With those words, the derisive though deadly William took a good aim.
The ringing voice of Boldheart was lost in the report of the guns and the screeching of the savages. Volley after volley awakened the numerous echoes. Hundreds of savages were killed, hundreds wounded, and thousands ran howling into the woods. The Latin- grammar master had a spare night-cap lent him, and a long-tail coat, which he wore hind side before. He presented a ludicrous though pitiable appearance, and serve him right.
We now find Capt. Boldheart, with this rescued wretch on board, standing off for other islands. At one of these, not a cannibal island, but a pork and vegetable one, he married (only in fun on his part) the king′s daughter. Here he rested some time, receiving from the natives great quantities of precious stones, gold dust, elephants′ teeth, and sandal wood, and getting very rich. This, too, though he almost every day made presents of enormous value to his men.
The ship being at length as full as she could hold of all sorts of valuable things, Boldheart gave orders to weigh the anchor, and turn ′The Beauty′s′ head towards England. These orders were obeyed with three cheers; and ere the sun went down full many a hornpipe had been danced on deck by the uncouth though agile William.
We next find Capt. Boldheart about three leagues off Madeira, surveying through his spy-glass a stranger of suspicious appearance making sail towards him. On his firing a gun ahead of her to bring her to, she ran up a flag, which he instantly recognised as the flag from the mast in the back-garden at home.
Inferring from this, that his father had put to sea to seek his long-lost son, the captain sent his own boat on board the stranger to inquire if this was so, and, if so, whether his father′s intentions were strictly honourable. The boat came back with a present of greens and fresh meat, and reported that the stranger was ′The Family,′ of twelve hundred tons, and had not only the captain′s father on board, but also his mother, with the majority of his aunts and uncles, and all his cousins. It was further reported to Boldheart that the whole of these relations had expressed themselves in a becoming manner, and were anxious to embrace him and thank him for the glorious credit he had done them. Boldheart at once invited them to breakfast next morning on board ′The Beauty,′ and gave orders for a brilliant ball that should last all day.
It was in the course of the night that the captain discovered the hopelessness of reclaiming the Latin-grammar master.
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