By morning the question had either gone from his mind or lost its importance, for he said nothing of it to his servant. It appeared as the day went on that their treatment at the hands of Captain Pound was not to be altogether merciless: after a breakfast of bread, cheese, and water — not punishment, but the whole crew's morning fare — they were released from their leg irons, given some purloined clothing, and allowed to come on deck, where they found themselves riding an empty expanse of ocean. The Moor, who seemed to be first mate, set them to various simple chores like oakum-picking and holystoning; only at night were they returned to their miserable cell, and never after the first time were they subjected to the leg irons. Captain Pound put his case plainly to them: he was persuaded that one or the other was the Laureate but put no faith in the assertions of either, and meant therefore to hold both in custody. He would say no more regarding the reason for their incarceration than that he was following orders, nor of its probable term than that when so ordered he would release them. In the meantime they had only to look to their behavior, and no injury would be done them.
From all this Ebenezer could not but infer that his captor was in some manner an agent of the archconspirator John Coode, at whose direction he had lain in ambush for the Poseidon. The man would stop at nothing to reach his mischievous ends! And how devilish clever, to let the pirates take the blame! The prospects of death or torture no longer imminent, the Laureate allowed himself boundless indignation at being kidnaped — which mighty sentiment, however, he was sufficiently prudent to conceal from the kidnapers — and at the same time could not but commend his foe's respect for the power of the pen.
" 'Tis perfectly clear," he explained to Bertrand in a worldly tone. "Milord Baltimore had more than the muse in mind when he commissioned the Marylandiad. He knows what too few princes will admit: that a good poet's worth two friends at court to make or break a cause, though of course the man's too sensible of a poet's feelings to declare such a thing outright. Why else did he send dear Henry to watch after me, d'you think? And why should Coode waylay me, but that he knows my influence as well as Baltimore? I'faith, two formidable antagonists!"
If Bertrand was impressed, he was not a whit consoled. "God pox the twain of 'em!"
"Say not so," his master protested. " 'Tis all very well to keep an open mind on trifles, but this is a plain case of justice against poltroonery, and the man that shrugs compounds the felony."
"Haply so," Bertrand said with a shrug. "I know your Baltimore's a wondrous Papist, but I doubt me he's a saint yet, for all that." When Ebenezer objected, the valet went on to repeat a story he'd heard from Lucy Robotham aboard the Poseidon, the substance of which was that Charles Calvert was in the employ of Rome. "He hath struck a dev'lish bargain with the Pope to join the Papists and the salvages against the Protestants and butcher every soul of 'em! Then when he hath made a Romish fortress out of Maryland, the Jesuits will swarm like maggots o'er the landscape, and ere ye can say 'Our Father' the entire country belongs to Rome!"
"Pernicious drivel!" Ebenezer scoffed. "What cause hath Baltimore to do such evil?"
"What cause! The Pope is sworn to beatify him if he Romanizes Maryland, and canonize him if he snatches the whole country! He'll make a bloody saint of him!" It was to prevent exactly this catastrophe, Lucy Robotham had declared, that her father and the rest had joined with Coode to overthrow the Papists in Maryland, coincidentally with the deposition of King James, and to petition William and Mary to assume the government of the Province. "Yet old Coode was ill paid for's labors," Bertrand said, "for no sooner was the house pulled down than the wreckers fell out amongst themselves, and Baltimore contrived to get this fellow Nicholson the post of Governor. He flies King William's colors, but all the world knows he's a Papist at heart: when he fought with James at Hounslow Heath, he said his mass with the rest, and 'twas an Irish Papist troop he took to Boston."
"Dear Father!" Ebenezer cried. "What a sink of calumny this Robotham strumpet was! Nicholson's as honest a man as I!"
"He is the Duke of Bolton's bastard," the valet went on stubbornly. "And ere he took up with the Papists he was aide-de-camp to Colonel Kirke in Africa. They do declare he had a draught of wine from the Colonel's arse at Mequinez, to please the Emperor Muley Ishmael — "
"Stop!"
"Some say 'twas May-wine and others Bristol sherry; Mistress Lucy herself held with the May-winers."
"I'll hear no more!" the poet threatened, but to his every protest Bertrand made the same replies. "There's a lot goes on that your honest wight dreams naught of," or "More history's made in the bedchamber than in the throne room."
" 'Tis not a fart to me who's right or wrong," he said at last. "This Coode hath ginned us either way, and we'll ne'er set foot on land."
"How is that?" the poet demanded. "I've fared no worse here than aboard the Poseidon, and we're only to be held till farther notice."
"No doubt!" the servant said. "But if thou'rt such a cannon as Charles Calvert thinks, is't likely Coode will turn ye loose to blast him? 'Tis a mystery to me we're still alive!"
Ebenezer could not but acknowledge the logic of this position, yet neither could he be immediately terrified by it. Captain Pound was unquestionably formidable, but he was not crueclass="underline" although in the incident related by Burlingame he had apparently condoned rape, he seemed to draw the line at murder, and his plundering of the Poseidon had been almost gentlemanly. Moreover he was not even avaricious, as pirates go: for weeks on end the shallop cruised with apparent aimlessness from north to south and back again, flying English colors; when a sail appeared on the horizon the pirates gave chase, but upon overhauling the other ship they would salute it amiably, and Captain Pound would inquire, as might the captain of any vessel met at sea, what port the stranger was bound for, and with what cargo. And though the replies were sometimes provocative — "Bark Adelaide, a hundred and thirty days out of Falmouth, for Philadelphia with silk and silverware," or "Brig Pilgrim out of Jamaica with rum for Boston" — only twice during the three full months of his imprisonment did Ebenezer witness acts of piracy, and these occurred consecutively on the same early August day, in the following manner:
For several days the shallop had ridden hove to, though the weather was fine and nothing could be seen on any quarter. Just after the midday meal on the day referred to the lookout spied a sail to westward, and after observing it for some time through his glass, Captain Pound said, " 'Tis the Poseidon, all right. Take 'em below." The three kidnaped sailors were ordered to their quarters in the fo'c'sle, Bertrand was confined to the sail-locker, and Ebenezer, who had labored all morning at the apparently pointless job of shifting cargo in the hold, was sent below to complete the task.
"Poor Captain Meech!" he thought. "This devil hath lain in wait to ruin him!" Though.he deplored the idea of piracy in general and wished neither Meech nor his passengers harm, he could not feel pity for the sailors who had done him such an outrage; having witnessed already the ferocity of the pirates, he rather relished the idea of a fight between them and the Poseidon's crew. In any case he had no intention of missing the excitement on deck: during the chase, which lasted no more than an hour, he toiled dutifully in the hold, moving barrels and boxes aft in order (he understood now) to make room for additional loot; but when the grapples were thrown and all but a handful of the pirates crouched at the lee rail ready to board, he climbed to the edge of the after hatch and peered over.