Public-domain ebook

The Captain's Story; or, The Disobedient Son

Language: en519 downloads on Project Gutenberg

Subjects

Sea stories Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction Ship captains -- Juvenile fiction Youth -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction Obedience -- Juvenile fiction

In: Novels

Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #51188.

The opening · free to read

The Stranger--The Castle--The Captain's Soliloquy--The Pastor--The Invitation.

"I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor did I know, sweet home, till then, What love I bore to thee.

"'Tis past, that melancholy dream! Nor will I quit thy shore A second time; for still I seem To love thee more and more. --WORDSWORTH.

Towards the close of a beautiful day in autumn, the last rays of the setting sun were gilding the tops of the mountains, which overhang the picturesque valley of Bergstrasse, along which winds the road from Heidelberg to Frankfort. The heavily laden country carts and waggons were toiling slowly along the dusty highway, both horses and drivers looking hot and tired, and both, no doubt, very glad that they had nearly reached the end of their day's journey; while every now and then a horseman, or a carriage with ladies and gentlemen inside, dashed rapidly along, and soon left the more heavily loaded vehicles far behind. What a striking picture of human life and the great journey we all are taking--some of us struggling wearily, and oftentimes painfully, but always, let us trust, hopefully, under a heavy load, and others trotting merrily along their course, happy, and apparently at least free from care. Who shall say which of the two shall reach the end most safely!

While the broad high-road presented this animated scene, the steep rocky footpath cut in the side of the mountain, and leading up to the old ruined castle of Aurburg on its summit, was almost deserted; not quite deserted, though; for, toiling up the steep ascent was an old man, who, in spite of the help afforded him by his stout bamboo cane, looked very tired as he went slowly along. He was rather a strange-looking old man, respectably dressed, and with a pleasant-looking face; but his clothes and general appearance were different from those of the people commonly seen about there, and his bronzed, weather-beaten features showed him to be, if not a foreigner, one who had evidently been for some time in a foreign country. Indeed, the little boy who passed him on his way down to the valley with his goats, and the little girl going home with her bundle of sticks for the fire, seemed half afraid of him as they bade him good-night, and even when he had gone by, they turned round to look at him as he went on up the mountain-side.

In spite of his evident weariness, the stranger kept bravely on; and just as the sun was disappearing behind a long range of mountains in the west, he reached the ruins of the old castle, of which only one tower and a few walls were then standing. Here he sat down to rest himself on a large heap of stones which had long since fallen from the walls of the castle, and were now all overgrown with lichens and ferns, and seemed for some moments lost in thought. His eyes wandered over the rich landscape which lay spread out beneath his feet; then, giving vent to the emotions which filled his heart, he exclaimed: "Yes, this is the old place again, and after forty years' absence I have at last returned to take one more look at these mountains and forests which I remember so well. There, too, far away down the valley, glides the beautiful river, along whose banks I so often wandered when I was a boy. Ah, it is a true saying, 'There is no place like home!' And yet, after all, our real home is not in this world, but in heaven. There are all who were dear to me, and there I trust soon to meet them again; but now I am left alone--alone in the world! What a change a few short years have made!"

The old man sat silent for a few minutes, and then in a voice full of emotion began singing part of a beautiful English hymn which touchingly expresses the instability of all human affairs:--

"Change and decay on all around I see: O Thou that changest not, abide with me."

While he was singing, two children, hearing him, came close up behind him, and when he had finished began to cough in order to attract his attention. For some time he took no notice, but at last he turned, and saw two nicely-dressed children, a little boy and girl, who wished him good evening and made a bow. He was about to speak to them, when their father, who had also heard him singing, came up, and supposing him to be an Englishman, said to him in English, "Although, sir, we are strangers, it is true, those beautiful words you were singing, which I am sure come from your heart, prove to me that we both look up to one common Father in heaven. I am the pastor of the little village you can see down there, at the foot of the mountain. But it is growing dark, and if, as I presume, you are a stranger in these parts, I can gladly offer you the simple accommodation of my cottage for the night."

The stranger answered in German: "Your kind invitation is very welcome, sir. An old sea-captain like me is not much in the habit of paying compliments; I can only say I gladly accept your hospitality."

Guided by the last glimmer of twilight, they took their way at once towards the peaceful village, the steeple of which was just peeping up above the trees. On their way the captain told the pastor that he bad only arrived at the neighbouring village of Aurbach that afternoon. "But," said he, "I could not rest, tired as I was with my day's travelling, until I had been up here to look at the old castle, which I have not seen for forty years."

The Children's Expectation Disappointed--The Scapegrace--The Forester's House--Curiosity of the Villagers--Their Remarks--The Captain's Luggage.

"I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curled Above the green elms, that a cottage was near; And I said, 'If there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that was humble might hope for it here.'

"It was noon, and on flowers that languished around, In silence reposed the voluptuous bee; Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound But the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree." --MOORE.

Night had already closed in when they reached the village, and the moon was just appearing over the tops of the mountains. Here they were met by the pastor's wife. She had already heard of the stranger's arrival from the two children, who had run home before. "Pray do not be alarmed at the sight of a strange and unexpected guest," said the old man to her, "I hope my arrival will not inconvenience you at all." "Not in the least, sir," replied she, "you are very welcome to such accommodation as we can offer."

Upon this they entered the house, and were soon comfortably seated in the parlour, while the children, who had heard that the stranger was a great traveller, listened very attentively, hoping that he would begin talking of his long voyages, and perhaps tell them some interesting stories of his adventures. This evening, however, they were doomed to be disappointed, for though the captain could easily have satisfied their curiosity, and amused them for a long time with an account of some of the dangers he had passed through, and the many foreign countries he had visited, he seemed just then to be more inclined to seek for information on different points, than to talk about himself and his own doings.

He began by asking the pastor a great many questions about different places in the neighbourhood, and the people (several of whose names he knew) who used to live there; and seemed very much interested in all he heard. He then inquired whether there were still living any descendants of the former pastor, a Mr Buchman. "So far as I know, there are none," replied the pastor, "indeed, I understand he had only one son, a regular scapegrace, who left home a long time ago, and has never been heard of since." "It must be nearly forty years since Pastor Buchman lived here," he added, "perhaps you remember him?"

"Indeed I do," said the captain, "I remember him well, for he was my father, and I am no other than the only son you spoke of!"

"Is it possible?" cried the worthy man, a little disconcerted; "are you indeed that very young man, of whose wilful character I have heard so many speak? Forgive me, my friend, for having spoken of you as a scapegrace. How could I imagine that you, who as a boy were so wild and disobedient, would have become a quiet and pious man, as you seem to me to be." "Yes, thank God," said the captain in a voice trembling with emotion, "He has at length, after many hard trials and severe chastisements, shown me the error of my ways, and guided my feet into the way of peace. But pray excuse my speaking more on this subject just now. I could scarcely relate all the details of my long story to-night, and, fatigued as I am, it would be too much for me; indeed, as it is, the idea of passing the night under your roof almost overcomes me; for this is the very house that I was born in, and here, too, my parents both died."

Notwithstanding his anxiety to hear a full account of the extraordinary events in the life of his guest, the worthy pastor considerately forebore to touch on the subject again during the evening. As to the children, they did not cease to pay the greatest attention, hoping to hear, at least, something interesting, but in vain. The captain sat buried in thought, and during the short time before supper scarcely spoke a word. Directly after supper, the pastor read a chapter from the Bible, and made a short evening prayer, and then the children had to go to bed. This seemed to them a greater hardship to-night than it had ever done before, and they could not help thinking, as they went up-stairs, that perhaps the captain might relate his adventures after they had gone, and so they should miss hearing them. They kept all these thoughts to themselves, however, for they were good, obedient children, and went to bed without murmuring.

After they had left the room, the captain still refrained from speaking on the subject of his travels, only telling the pastor of his intention of spending the rest of his life in his native village, if he could find a suitable house, either to rent or buy. His host heard this resolution with pleasure, and told him that there was a neat, comfortable cottage, close by his own parsonage, which was for sale; it had belonged to a forester who had died about six months ago, and would, he thought, be very likely to suit him. They continued talking on various subjects for some little time, till the pastor's wife reminded them that it was past ten o'clock. Upon this they went up to bed; but for nearly an hour afterwards the pastor heard his guest, who slept in an adjoining room, walking up and down, and occasionally praying in a loud voice. After a time, however, all was silent, and peaceful sleep closed the labours of the day.

The next morning the two children were the first down-stairs. They had always been accustomed to get up early, and little Willie, when only four years old, once said to his father, "Isn't it a shame, papa, to let the sun get up before we do? He must be more tired than we are, for he has such a long way to go every day." Their father usually employed the first part of the morning in taking them both out for a walk, either up the mountains, or in the fields, or perhaps into the forest, where they would gather ferns or flowers, and get him to tell them their names. But to-day they seemed so anxious to hear the captain's adventures, that they did not like to go out far, for fear they might miss some opportunity of hearing his story; and they could scarcely contain their joy when their mother told them that he was not going to leave Dornbach (that was the name of the village), but was going to live at the forester's house.

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