# Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 7/My aunt's story

MY AUNT’S STORY.
My aunt Calista was one of the prettiest of all little fairy-like women. As a girl her beauty must have been something wonderfully distracting. She was once the belle of a famous and quaint old sea-town, full of fortunes made in foreign trade, prize-money, and kinds of traffic, thought honourable enough some years ago, but now held in such reprobation, that I prefer not to mention them.
My Aunt was very little. When I was ten years old, I was the biggest. Well I might be, for a man could span her waist with his two hands, and she was more like a marvellous doll, or a stray fairy, than a mortal woman. Her feet and ankles were past all comprehension for littleness and elegance. Perhaps she did not wear nice shoes and stockings, and maybe she did not hold up her black brocade daintily on the slightest provocation! Ah! but her hands; how small, and white, and delicate, they were, with rosy-tipped, tapering fingers. She looked all the more petite and wonderful in her delicate prettiness, for always dressing in black, which brought out her pale, lily-like beauty, and blonde hair with great distinctness. Her deep blue eyes seemed to look through things and people. All this made me a little in awe of Aunt Calista, though I loved her, with the romantic, reverential love of boyhood, as if she were a lovely princess, enchanted, or otherwise.
A childless widow, my Aunt Calista had lived with us since I could remember. She was older than my mother; but no one could have told her age from her looks, for her singular beauty seemed to have in it no element of decay. We lived inland among the hills, and all I knew of the ocean was from my books of geography, and the pictures and voyages in Aunt Calista’s rooms, and Robinson Crusoe. But I dreamed much of the sea, built mimic ships, and waited with impatience until I should be old enough to run away like the aforesaid Robinson, who has, perhaps, done more to help Britannia to rule the waves, than all her Drakes and Nelsons.
I forget,—there was another source of information, better than all the rest. My Aunt Calista had been born in sight of the sea. She had seen the great ships sail in and out of the harbour of her native town. She had picked up beautiful shells and pebbles on the beach, and sometimes she helped me to sail my little squadrons on our duck-pond, and told me many a sea story she had heard or read.
“Aunt Calista,” said I, one day, when we were sitting under the willows by the water-side, watching my last achievement in naval architecture, as it danced over the billows—the billows of the duck-pond—“were you ever on the great blue sea, with only the sky and clouds above you, and the water all round, out of sight of land—nothing but the ship, in the middle of the sea?”
A shadow passed over her pale and lovely face, as she said, with a soft tenderness:
“Yes, dear, I have been at sea where the ship was the only human thing in sight, and the centre of the great circle of the horizon, where the blue sky and blue ocean mingle on every side.”
“Oh, how grand!” I exclaimed, with my boyish enthusiasm. “Do, dearest aunt, tell me all about your voyage?”
She did not answer for a moment, and I wondered what could be the matter with my ever-cheerful Aunt Calista. But the sadness passed away, and she said: −
“Yes, I will tell you all about it. Your grandfather was a merchant, and owned many ships. He sent them to the West Indies, the East Indies, and sometimes to China. I loved the sea and the ships. My father used to allow me to go on board with him, when they were about to sail, or had come in from long voyages. I sometimes took such little presents on board as sailors like, and they said I would give them a lucky voyage. They did not forget me, and brought me many a nice present from beyond the seas.
“One day we visited a new ship, and found a new captain, whom I had never seen before. I thought him very handsome, but young for such a trust; but I found that he was good and honourable. He had been in the navy. A great mis fortune to his family had made it necessary for him to leave the service, and accept the higher pay of a merchantman. After one or two voyages we became acquainted, and he came to love me better than all the world.
​“But my father did not love him so well as another person did—at least, he did not wish me to love him. It was only in the intervals of long voyages that I saw him, and when the time for his arrival drew near, and the ship, for me so richly freighted, was due, I spent many hours in the observatory on the top of our house, sweeping the line of the horizon with a long spy-glass, and watching for the little signal flag that I alone knew of, and that would tell me he was coming. So you see, my dear, that I was well acquainted with the sea.
“One day this brave, good captain, who had won my heart, asked my father for my hand. He could have nothing against him. There could not be a better or braver man. He was nobility itself—but I was my father’s pet and pride, and he was ambitious. I think nothing less than a lord would then have satisfied him for a son-in-law.
“Captain Walter came and told me, with some bitterness, the result of his interview with my father. I knew that he was poor, but I knew that this was the only reasonable objection that could be made to him, and I laid my hand in his—a strong, manly hand—strong and true, and I said: “‘Be patient: I am yours, and I will never be any one’s but yours, while this world stands.’
“He went away upon a long voyage, and a very important one, for my father liked him as a captain of his ship, and knew well that he could trust him to the last drop of his blood to protect ship and cargo.
“When he came home next time, I had reflected much, and determined upon what I ought to do. I did not wait for him to come and see me. I did not wait for him to ask me to do anything. I knew that he could not, while he was my father’s captain. So I went to the ship, and said: ‘Captain Walter, will you leave this all to me, to do as I think right?’
“He only held me to his big heart a moment, but he looked a thousand yeses out of his handsome, loving eyes.
“The day his ship was to sail on her next voyage, I sent my trunks on board the ship. Then I found my captain, and said: ‘Come with me, and redeem your promise, and I will keep mine.’ We went to a church, a licence was ready, and we were married. The ship was ready to sail, and I knew that my father was on board to give his last directions, and see her off. I went on board with my husband, and my father was not surprised, for I had often sailed out with him, and returned in the pilot-boat.
“When the ship had got a good offing, and the pilot was ready to take us back, my father said his last words to the captain, and shook hands, wishing him a good voyage. ‘Come darling,’ said he to me: ‘say good-bye to Captain Walter, for we must go now.’
“‘Dear father,’ said I, ‘forgive your darling; I cannot go with you now. I must sail this voyage with my husband, Captain Walter!’
“He looked from one to the other, to see if this were jest or earnest.
“‘Father dear,’ said I, ‘you could never have found me so good a husband. So 1 took him this morning, and made him marry me, and here is the certificate that I am his wife.’
“Poor father! He turned very pale, but he loved me, and there was no help. He held me in his arms and kissed me, while his tears ran over my cheeks. At last he held out his hand to my brave captain in token of forgiveness. He went home alone in the pilot-boat. I waved him my tearful adieux as long as I could see him, for he was ever a kind and indulgent father. We sped on our voyage.
“The shores of England faded from our sight, and we were on the open sea. We had fair winds and foul, stiff gales and gentle breezes, and I became a sailor. We crossed the line, doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and sailed on weeks and weeks through the Indian seas to Batavia, and then to Canton: you have read about it in Lord Anson and Captain Cook. When our cargo was completed, we sailed homeward again. It was a long and solitary voyage, but I was never lonely. My world was with me. I wished to see my father, but we were homeward bound.
“One day, as we were reaching our northern latitudes, my captain came hastily into the cabin to get his spy-glass, and I followed him on deck. There was a vessel in sight, bearing down directly for us. She had changed her course since we first saw her, and it was evident she meant to come near us.
“My captain took a long look at her. ‘Well?’ said I, standing at his elbow, and taking the glass from his hand.
“‘You have good eyes, darling,’ said he, ‘see what you can make of her.’
“I adjusted the glass to my eye, and looked intently. ‘It is an armed vessel,’ said I. ‘I see ports, and a large gun amidships.’
“‘You are quite correct—as usual,’ said my captain.
“‘But she does not look like a man-of-war,’ said I, ‘and I do not think she is English.’
“‘No more is she,’ said he. ‘Either war has been declared, and she is a privateer, or she is a cursed pirate.’
“I was never a coward. I held the glass steadily in my hands, and watched the brig, as she bore down with all sail set, and it was evident that she was a good sailer. There had been talk of war before we left England, but my father did not believe in it. I shuddered at the idea of its being a pirate.
“‘Whatever she may be,’ said my captain, ‘she has no business with us. I shall give her a try at all events.’ So we tacked ship and stood off in the contrary direction from that in which we had been sailing. The stranger had tacked also before we were well on our course. In half an hour she had gained perceptibly.
“‘She can beat us on a wind,’ said my captain, looking very serious. ‘There is nothing for us but to show the cleanest pair of heels we can.’
Round we went to our best point of sailing; out went the studding sails, the cargo was shifted to give our ship the best possible trim, the sails were wet; but it was soon apparent that, after all we had done, the brig was gaining on us—slowly, indeed, but certainly gaining.
​“‘A stern chase is a long chase, Calista, darling,’ said my captain, cheerily; but I could see that he was not at all satisfied with the aspect of affairs.
“‘You know that I am not a coward,’ said I; ‘tell me just how it is.’
“‘I know your soul is bigger than your body, my darling,’ said he. ‘This rascally brig gains on us. If we can have foul weather to-night, we may change our course and lose sight of her. I see no other hope. We are not strong enough to fight her.’
“‘There are muskets and pistols in the cabin,’ said I, ‘and we have two cannons on deck.’
“‘Well enough to frighten savages, or beat off the Malay pirates; but that brig is well armed, and must have plenty of men, by the way they handle her. If she is a privateer, we must surrender. If a pirate, we must fight. Her Long Tom will make oven wood of us, but we must take our chance.’
“We held on, praying for night, and storm and darkness. The full moon rode high in the heavens, and silvered the waves through which our good ship ploughed gallantly. Nearer and nearer came our pursuer. Once the wind freshened, and we seemed to gain a slight advantage, but it soon fell off again, and the brig crept nearer and nearer. Few slept. By the full morning light there lay the handsome brig, full over our tafrail, bounding along with a bone in her mouth. My brave husband walked the deck in sore trouble. He had made the best possible preparations for defence, the crew were ready to obey his orders, but the case was hopeless.
“As the light increased, I watched the brig closely through the glass, trying to ascertain the character of our pursuer. A flag of stars and stripes went up to her mast-head, and the smoke of a cannon curled up from her deck. It was the first signal. The commander of the brig was in the field of my glass and my worst fears were dispelled.
“‘Look!’ said I to my husband, giving him the glass; ‘that man is not a pirate.’
“I could not be mistaken. He was a fine-looking man of thirty-five or forty, in an undress naval uniform. His bearing was manly, and his face, when I got a look at it, was clear and open. My captain took the glass, and gave an anxious look.
“‘I believe you are right, my darling,’ said he. ‘The man is no pirate. Then it is war, and we shall soon be his prisoners. It is a hard case, but there is no help for it.’
“‘Do not be cast down, my brave captain,’ said I; ‘father has more ships, and he can deduct this one from my portion.’
“Just then another shot from the long gun came alongside, and showed that we were within point blank range. The order was given to take in sail, and we waited for the brig to come up. As she came on, dashing gallantly through the waves, my captain took his trumpet and hailed her. The hail was courteously responded to. It was a Yankee privateer, demanding our surrender.
“‘Oh! for a tier of guns, and half a chance at him!’ exclaimed my captain; but the disparity of force was too overwhelming. In answer to the question, he gave the name of our good ship and his own.
“Then I, who was watching the deck of the enemy still through the glass, though we were now so near, saw a strange movement. The captain of the brig suddenly put up his glass, which he had turned on my husband. Then he appeared to give some order to his lieutenant who was preparing to board us, and soon sprang into the boat himself, and came on board of us.
“He was received with a not very cheerful politeness, but his manner, as he stepped upon our deck, justified the opinion I had formed of him. He raised his hat to me with a graceful bow; and my husband invited him to enter our cabin, which he did with every courtesy. Wine and other refreshments were brought out in plenty, and the stranger told us of the outbreak of the war with America, and also of other events which were news to us at that time.
“Were we prisoners? Was this our captor, quietly conversing with us, and courteously drinking to our prosperity? He looked at me attentively, when my eyes were turned away, and I thought I saw a strange smile upon his face.
“My husband opened a locker, and taking out the ship’s papers, laid them on the table with a heavy heart; but he would not show it, and said with an air of assumed cheerfulness:
“‘It is the fortune of war. My ship is your prize, captain, and since I must surrender her, I am glad it is to a gentleman. Where do you propose to send us?’
“The stranger moved into the light, brushed back the curls of his dark hair, and turning to my husband, said:
“‘Is it possible, Captain Walter, that you do not know me? Have you forgotten a man whose life you saved, and who owes @you@ so much?’
“My husband looked earnestly at him a moment, then grasped his hand, and said:
“‘Hardy! Frank Hardy! is it really you?’
“‘Yes, old fellow,’ said he, ‘it is really me, with a better memory than you have, who saved my life at the risk of your own. And this is your wife? I congratulate you—I congratulate you both with all my heart. Madam, he took me off a wreck, where every man but me had perished. Thank God! I can show that I am not ungrateful. I shall appoint you prize-master, and you shall take your ship, please God! into her own harbour.’
“‘But can you do this safely, Frank?’ asked my captain.
“‘Safely!’ His lip curled. ‘I would like to see the danger I would not confront for you, old fellow. If I were a naval officer, it would be a different matter, but a privateer has some discretion. My pretty brig is my own. The war is an ugly business, but you know me of old—we are “enemies in war, in peace friends,” all but you, old fellow—I am your friend always, as you know.’
“‘And how will your crew stand the loss of their share of prize-money?’ asked my captain.
​“‘They are pretty likely to stand what I require them to,’ said the Yankee, proudly. ‘But I can make it all right for them. Prizes are not very scarce articles. Here, give me the papers! Who is your owner?’
“‘My father,’ said I.
“‘All right! Madam,’ said he, bowing, ‘I wish to make you a small present.’
“‘If you wish to do me a favour,’ said I, ‘make your present to my husband.’
“He smiled, as he looked from one to the other, and seemed to understand the state of the case in an instant.
“‘You are quite right, madam,’ said he; ‘it shall be as you desire.’
“Then he endorsed the ship’s manifest with the fact of her capture, and he made over ship and cargo to Captain Walter. It was not a legal document, of course, but it had its weight with my father.
“Our captor took his leave, with such stores as we could get him to accept. His boat’s crew looked at them wonderingly as they were passed over the side to them, and even still more wonderingly at the manner in which their captain took his leave of us.
“In a week more we were safe in an English harbour and on English ground. The war lasted two or three years, and many prizes were taken on both sizes, and some hard battles fought by land and sea, but I never heard that any ship ever escaped as we did.”
This was my dear little aunt’s story as we sat under the willows. She said no more, but sat in a reverie, looking into vacancy—looking as if she saw a ship on the far horizon. I stole softly to her and kissed her little hand, and then glided noiselessly away, for I knew that she was thinking of her captain, and that the great blue sea was now to her but as the grave of him she loved. But she was not sad long nor often, for she believed that “the sea shall give up her dead.”