t island. I had been taken from the place where, as governing
officer, I had undoubtedly been of use,--and now could be of use no
longer. Nobody in England would want me or would care for me, and
I should be utterly friendless there, and alone. For aught I knew,
they might put me in prison and keep me there, so as to be sure that
I should not return to my own people. If I asked for my liberty, I
might be told that because of my bloodthirstiness it would be for the
general welfare that I should be deprived of it. When Sir Ferdinando
Brown had told me that I should certainly be asked down to Windsor,
I had taken his flowery promises as being worth nothing. I had no
wish to go to Windsor. But what should I do with myself immediately
on my arrival? Would it not be best to return at once to my own
country,--if only I might be allowed to do so. All this made me very
melancholy, but especially the feeling that I should be regarded by
all around as a monster of cruelty. I could not but think of the
words which Lieutenant Crosstrees had spoken to me. The Saviour of
the world had His disciples who believed in Him, and the one dear
youth who loved Him so well. I almost doubted my own energy as a
teacher of progress to carry me through the misery which I saw in
store for me.
"I shall not have a very bright time when I arrive in England," I
said to my friend Crosstrees, two days before our expected arrival.
"It will be all new, and there will be plenty for you to see."
"You will go upon some other voyage?"
"Yes; we shall be wanted up in the Baltic at once. We are very good
friends with Russia; but no dog is really respected in this world
unless he shows that he can bite as well as bark."
"I shall not be respected, because I can neither bark nor bite. What
will they do with me?"
"We shall put you on shore at Plymouth, and send you up to
London--with a guard of honour."
"And what will the guard of honour do with me?"
"Ah! for that I cannot answer. He will treat you with all kind of
respect, no doubt."
"It has not occurred to you to think," said I, "where he will deposit
me? Why should it do so? But to me the question is one of some
moment. No one there will want me; nobody knows me. They to whom I
must be the cause of some little trouble will simply wish me out
of the way; and the world at large, if it hears of me at all, will
simply have been informed of my cruelty and malignity. I do not mean
to destroy myself."
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