THE BRIGANTINE.*

Jr is long eince a thoroughly good sea story was written. Novels of this class are nearly always popular when they are good, and their scarcity must be ascribed not to mere change of fashion, but to the fact that the writer has not lately been found capable. of weaving an interesting story around the monotonous routine. of life on the ocean. Most novelists are unable to deal satis- factorily with their characters off the dry laud. A man should have been a sailor himself to write a good sea story. Captain Marryatt's earlier works were clever and amusing, and Cooper— who, like Marryatt, was bred to the sea—produced in the "Red. Rover " and the "Water Witch" fictions which have been the- delight of the young ever since they were written. But the works of both these writers lose much of their charm in later life. Charter parties, bills of lading, and a long voyage or two,. or even a month at a summer watering-place, will destroy a good deal of the romance of the sea. There is but one sea story with which we are acquainted that never loses its charm, but proves. as fresh and invigorating in old age as in youth—the in- comparable "Tom Cringle's Log." That book can scarcely fail to carry the thoughts back to distant days, over years that may have given something, but removed much that no subsequent acquisition has adequately replaced—to voices that are silenced and to friendly hands that lie cold. It is not simply the feeling of attachment to an old friend that makes "Tom °Angle" a favourite in all seasons of life ; the work has solid and substantial merit. Every character to- which we are introduced seems real and visible; the descrip- tion of scenery is so vivid that we can almost fancy our own eyes. have looked upon it, and there is hardly an incident in the narra- tive which does not read as if it were true,—as, indeed, many ot the incidents are. The knowledge of seafaring life, and the insight. into the character and habits and ways of thought of sailors, could only be caught by a man who had spent years on the sea, as was. the case with Michael Scott. Professional novelists cannot affard to leave the shore. They find it pay better to construct thrilling, stories turning upon bigamyor wife-desertion, and a good, honest, manly book becomes rarer as the demand for anything of the kind diminishes at circulating libraries. Demoralizing novels and bad dramas have met the public desires fora time. Tom Cringle himself would, perhaps, have stood no chance by the side of Jiffs Conyers. But this unhealthy taste must soon change, and already the signs of the change are apparent. The sooner we return to- decency and good sense in our works of fiction time better.

We know not whether Mr. Pascoe possesses the practical knowledge of seafaring life which is the first condition of suer- cess, but we are sorry to be compelled to pronounce his book a. very bad one. We have read it with every desire to find merit in it, and with a strong wish to recommend it in the place of the effeminate rubbish which seems to satisfy novel-readers. But the' story is quite hopeless. We cannot say a word for it. The first. volume was bad, and we hoped it might be redeemed by the second. It proved tenfold more stupid and dull than. the first. It is not a sea story at all, it is very unin- teresting, and there is not a single character in it. worth remembering. The brigantine is a smuggler's craft which chiefly lies off shore, so that sea adventures there are none Thesailors shiver their timbers, swear by Davy Jones and. his locker, and talk much of belaying pins —but they are very poor imitations of the genuine tar. The hero, Aungua, is a native of Burinab, and in that country the action of the- story for the most part lies. Aungua is in love with the- daughter of a rich merchant—her name is Domea—but she is sought in marriage by a wealthier rival, and her father has- accepted the rival as the lucky man. Captain Clasper, of the- brigantine, happens to be lying off' Burmah, and is induced by Koonah, a jealous priest, to seize Aungua, and rob Domea's house. The smugglers murder the old man, and carry off his property, while Aungua is taken on board the brigantine. After- wards he is given up to the Burmese priests, and confined for- abandoning his religion—Aungua having been converted by a. Christian named Momien, whose incessant preaching is one of the greatest nuisances of the book. Between Koonah, the rival, and the Burmese priests, the lovers have rather a bad time of it ; but before long they rejoin each other, and Captain Clasper atones for his former injury to Aungua by giving them both shelter on board his vessel. The villain of the story, Koonah, comes to a violent end, and the moralities are attended to according to the usual canons of dramatic propriety.

■ The Brigantine. A Story of the Sea. In Tiro Volumes. London : B. Bentley.

Nothing, however, can be more tedious than the way in which the narrative is told. The style is feeble and un- certain, as if a schoolboy had tried his band at writing

a sea novel. The descriptions of Burmese scenery may be accurate ; but they are excessively dull, and entirely out of

place. The author tells off the points as if for a geographical survey, even when the story has nothing to do with the place or scene described. A spot at which Aungua once paused to rest

his horse is thus depicted :— "Full eighteen miles to the south-west of the spot where be stood the river which washed the mountain village poured out its waters. From thence the coast extends for ten miles or more in a north-westerly 'direction, studded with immense islands, the channel teeming with rocks and shoals. Here the land bends abruptly ro the west, and once more to the north, with a large island joining in the bend. Hence the open bay is seen, and a large river from far inland rushes into it behind the island."

This is the kind of description that a man who had never visited the country might write, with the aid of a map, by his own fireside. Nor is Mr. Pascoe more felicitous when dealing

xvith incident. All such passages are either overdrawn or under- drawn. The following is a fine example of what Americans call, " tall writing." It concludes the account of Koonah's death :—

"Simultaneous with a deep roar of thunder from the sacred elephant, which had thus revenged the High Priest's murder, a rolling shout from the multitude, like the sounding of a mighty cascade of water, mingled with the deafening crash of music, seemed to shake the ground on which they stood, as if the yawning gulf of the bottomless pit had opened, and all the evil spirits held jubilee ; and the doomed souls in hell gave wel- come to another lost one

This is strong enough for any purpose, but it does not com-

pensate for the absence of a coherent plot—still less does it re- move the sense of disappointment at finding ourselves on shore in Burtnah, when we expected to be on the sea in the brigantine. Mr. Pascoe will preach, too, even when he is dealing with his Lovers. We look for something which the elder Weller described

as a "little more tenderer" than the following, when the young lady and gentleman are brought together after their troubles :-

"Both Aungua and Domes saw more than a mere temporal union ; they saw the uniting of heart and mind ; a mingling, as it were, of their souls, to make them helpmeets and companions on the journey of life. 'The love they had for each other was of that blessed, holy birth, self- denying, self-forgetting, true as the star and pare as light, which is sometimes found seeking a home in human hearts ; but, alas! how often hands are joined whilst in the heart no such love can be found, the mingling of which alone constitutes true marriage. In the hearts of Aungua and Domea love nestled."

It would be as wearisome a task to multiply these extracts as it has been to read Mr. Pascoe's book. He may have all the qualifications for writing a good sea novel, but may, perhaps, labour under the idea that sea life will be uninteresting to his readers, according to the notion which clever men who have thoroughly mastered a subject are often guided by. They think that what they know every one knows also, and that what they are tired of everybody must be tired of too. If Mr. Pascoe can do it, let him write a sea story which shall be worthy of the name. It must prove successful in the present dearth of novels con- taming a spark of manliness. Another Michael Scott might

reap fame and fortune at once, in an age which has been sur- feited with sickly sentimentality, or more exciting and more un- wholesome narratives of treachery and crime. The Brigantine sloes not even approach the required standard.