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The Water-Witch; Or, the Skimmer of the Seas: A Tale

by James Fenimore Cooper · English · Gutenberg #12445 · 909,409 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Water-Witch; Or, the Skimmer of the Seas: A Tale

Author: James Fenimore Cooper


        
Release date: May 1, 2004 [eBook #12445]
                Most recently updated: October 28, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12445

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WATER-WITCH; OR, THE SKIMMER OF THE SEAS: A TALE ***

[Illustration]




The Water-Witch or, The Skimmer of the Seas

A Tale.

by James Fenimore Cooper

“Mais, qui diable alloit-il faire dans cette galère!”

Complete in One Volume

1871


Contents

 Preface
 CHAPTER I.
 CHAPTER II.
 CHAPTER III.
 CHAPTER IV.
 CHAPTER V.
 CHAPTER VI.
 CHAPTER VII.
 CHAPTER VIII.
 CHAPTER IX.
 CHAPTER X.
 CHAPTER XI.
 CHAPTER XII.
 CHAPTER XIII.
 CHAPTER XIV.
 CHAPTER XV.
 CHAPTER XVI.
 CHAPTER XVII.
 CHAPTER XVIII.
 CHAPTER XIX.
 CHAPTER XX.
 CHAPTER XXI.
 CHAPTER XXII.
 CHAPTER XXIII.
 CHAPTER XXIV.
 CHAPTER XXV.
 CHAPTER XXVI.
 CHAPTER XXVII.
 CHAPTER XXVIII.
 CHAPTER XXIX.
 CHAPTER XXX.
 CHAPTER XXXI.
 CHAPTER XXXII.
 CHAPTER XXXIII.
 CHAPTER XXXIV.




Preface


Christendom is gradually extricating itself from the ignorance,
ferocity, and crimes of the middle ages. It is no longer subject of
boast, that the hand which wields the sword, never held a pen, and men
have long since ceased to be ashamed of knowledge. The multiplied means
of imparting principles and facts, and a more general diffusion of
intelligence, have conduced to establish sounder ethics and juster
practices, throughout the whole civilized world. Thus, he who admits
the conviction, as hope declines with his years, that man deteriorates,
is probably as far from the truth, as the visionary who sees the dawn
of a golden age, in the commencement of the nineteenth century. That we
have greatly improved on the opinions and practices of our ancestors,
is quite as certain as that there will be occasion to meliorate the
legacy of morals which we shall transmit to posterity.

When the progress of civilization compelled Europe to correct the
violence and injustice which were so openly practised, until the art of
printing became known, the other hemisphere made America the scene of
those acts, which shame prevented her from exhibiting nearer home.
There was little of a lawless, mercenary, violent, and selfish nature,
that the self-styled masters of the continent hesitated to commit, when
removed from the immediate responsibilities of the society in which
they had been educated. The Drakes, Rogers’, and Dampiers of that day,
though enrolled in the list of naval heroes were no other than pirates,
acting under the sanction of commissions; and the scenes that occurred
among the marauders of the land, were often of a character to disgrace
human nature.

That the colonies which formed the root of this republic escaped the
more serious evils of a corruption so gross and so widely spread, can
only be ascribed to the characters of those by whom they were peopled.

Perhaps nine-tenths of all the white inhabitants of the Union are the
direct descendants of men who quitted Europe in order to worship God
according to conviction and conscience. If the Puritans of New-England,
the Friends of Jersey, Pennsylvania and Delaware, the Catholics of
Maryland, the Presbyterians of the upper counties of Virginia and of
the Carolinas, and the Huguenots, brought with them the exaggeration of
their peculiar sects, it was an exaggeration that tended to correct
most of their ordinary practices. Still the English Provinces were not
permitted, altogether, to escape from the moral dependency that seems
nearly inseparable from colonial government, or to be entirely exempt
from the wide contamination of the times.

The State of New-York, as is well known, was originally a colony of the
United Provinces. The settlement was made in the year 1613; and the
Dutch East India Company, under whose authority the establishment was
made, claimed the whole country between the Connecticut and the mouth
of Delaware-bay, a territory which, as it had a corresponding depth,
equalled the whole surface of the present kingdom of France. Of this
vast region, however, they never occupied but a narrow belt on each
side of the Hudson, with, here and there, a settlement on a few of the
river flats, more inland.

There is a providence in the destiny of nations, that sets at nought
the most profound of human calculations. Had the dominion of the Dutch
continued a century longer, there would have existed in the very heart
of the Union a people opposed to its establishment, by their language,
origin, and habits. The conquest of the English in 1663, though unjust
and iniquitous in itself, removed the danger, by opening the way for
the introduction of that great community of character which now so
happily prevails.

Though the English, the French, the Swedes, the Dutch, the Danes, the
Spaniards, and the Norwegians, all had colonies within the country
which now composes the United States, the people of the latter are more
homogeneous in character, language, and opinions, than those of any
other great nation that is familiarly known. This identity of character
is owing to the early predominance of the English, and to the
circumstance that New-England and Virginia, the two great sources of
internal emigration, were entirely of English origin. Still, New-York
retains, to the present hour, a variety of usages that were obtained
from Holland. Her edifices of painted bricks, her streets lined with
trees, her inconvenient and awkward stoops and a large proportion of
her names, are equally derived from the Dutch. Until the commencement
of this century, even the language of Holland prevailed in the streets
of the capital, and though a nation of singular boldness and
originality in all that relates to navigation, the greatest sea-port of
the country betrays many evidences of a taste which must be referred to
the same origin.

The reader will find in these facts a sufficient explanation of most of
the peculiar customs, and of some of the peculiar practices, that are
exhibited in the course of the following tale. Slavery, a divided
language, and a distinct people, are no longer to be found, within the
fair regions of New-York; and, without pretending to any peculiar
exemption from the weaknesses of humanity, it may be permitted us to
hope, that these are not the only features of the narrative, which a
better policy, and a more equitable administration of power, have made
purely historical.

Early released from the fetters of the middle ages, fetters that bound
the mind equally with the person, America has preceded rather than
followed Europe, in that march of improvement which is rendering the
present era so remarkable. Under a system, broad, liberal, and just as
hers, though she may have to contend with rivalries that are sustained
by a more concentrated competition, and which are as absurd by their
pretension of liberality as they are offensive by their monopolies,
there is nothing to fear, in the end. Her political motto should be
Justice, and her first and greatest care to see it administered to her
own citizens.

The reader is left to make the application.




The Water-Witch

CHAPTER I.


“What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
Or shall we on without apology.”

Romeo and Juliet.


The fine estuary which penetrates the American coast, between the
fortieth and forty-first degrees of latitude, is formed by the
confluence of the Hudson, the Hackensack, the Passaic, the Raritan, and
a multitude of smaller streams; all of which pour their tribute into
the ocean, within the space named. The islands of Nassau and Staten are
happily placed to exclude the tempests of the open sea, while the deep
and broad arms of the latter offer every desirable facility for foreign
trade and internal intercourse. To this fortunate disposition of land
and water, with a temperate climate, a central position, and an immense
interior, that is now penetrated, in every direction, either by
artificial or by natural streams, the city of New-York is indebted for
its extraordinary prosperity. Though not wanting in beauty, there are
many bays that surpass this in the charms of scenery; but it may be
questioned if the world possesses another site that unites so many
natural advantages for the growth and support of a widely extended
commerce. As if never wearied with her kindness, Nature has placed the
island of Manhattan at the precise point that is most desirable for the
position of a town. Millions might inhabit the spot, and yet a ship
should load near every door; and while the surface of the land just
possesses the inequalities that are required for health and
cleanliness, its bosom is filled with the material most needed in
construction.

The consequences of so unusual a concurrence of favorable
circumstances, are well known. A vigorous, healthful, and continued
growth, that has no parallel even in the history of this extraordinary
and fortunate country, has already raised the insignificant provincial
town of the last century to the level of the second-rate cities of the
other hemisphere. The New-Amsterdam of this continent already rivals
its parent of the other; and, so far as human powers may pretend to
predict, a few fleeting years will place her on a level with the
proudest capitals of Europe.

It would seem that, as Nature has given its periods to the stages of
animal life, it has also set limits to all moral and political
ascendency. While the city of the Medici is receding from its crumbling
walls, like the human form shrinking into “the lean and slipper’d
pantaloon,” the Queen of the Adriatic sleeping on her muddy isles, and
Rome itself is only to be traced by fallen temples and buried columns,
the youthful vigor of America is fast covering the wilds of the West
with the happiest fruits of human industry.

By the Manhattanese, who is familiar with the forest of masts, the
miles of wharves, the countless villas, the hundred churches, the
castles, the smoking and busy vessels that crowd his bay, the daily
increase and the general movement of his native town, the picture we
are about to sketch will scarcely be recognized. He who shall come a
generation later will probably smile, that subject of admiration should
have been found in the existing condition of the city: and yet we shall
attempt to carry the recollections of the reader but a century back, in
the brief history of his country.

As the sun rose on the morning of the 3d of June 171-, the report of a
cannon was heard rolling along the waters of the Hudson. Smoke issued
from an embrasure of a small fortress, that stood on the point of land
where the river and the bay mingle their waters. The explosion was
followed by the appearance of a flag, which, as it rose to the summit
of its staff and unfolded itself heavily in the light current of air,
showed the blue field and red cross of the English ensign. At the
distance of several miles, the dark masts of a ship were to be seen,
faintly relieved by the verdant background of the heights of Staten
Island. A little cloud floated over this object, and then an answering
signal came dull and rumbling to the town. The flag that the cruiser
set was not visible in the distance.

At the precise moment that the noise of the first gun was heard, the
door of one of the principal dwellings of the town opened, and a man,
who might have been its master, appeared on its stoop, as the
ill-arranged entrances of the buildings of the place are still termed.
He was seemingly prepared for some expedition that was likely to
consume the day. A black of middle age followed the burgher to the
threshold; and another negro, who had not yet reached the stature of
manhood, bore under his arm a small bundle, that probably contained
articles of the first necessity to the comfort of his master.

“Thrift, Mr. Euclid, thrift is your true philosopher’s stone;”
commenced, or rather continued in a rich full-mouthed Dutch, the
proprietor of the dwelling, who had evidently been giving a
leave-taking charge to his principal slave, before quitting the
house—“Thrift hath made many a man rich, but it never yet brought any
one to want. It is thrift which has built up the credit of my house,
and, though it is said by myself, a broader back and firmer base
belongs to no merchant in the colonies. You are but the reflection of
your master’s prosperity, you rogue, and so much the greater need that
you took to his interests. If the substance is wasted, what will become
of the shadow? When I get delicate, you will sicken: when I am
a-hungered, you will be famished; when I die, you may be—ahem—Euclid. I
leave thee in charge with goods and chattels, house and stable, with my
character in the neighborhood. I am going to the Lust in Rust, for a
mouthful of better air. Plague and fevers! I believe the people will
continue to come into this crowded town, until it gets to be as
pestilent as Rotterdam in the dog-days. You have now come to years when
a man obtains his reflection, boy, and I expect suitable care and
discretion about the premises, while my back is turned. Now, harkee,
sirrah: I am not entirely pleased with the character of thy company. It
is not altogether as respectable as becomes the confidential servant of
a man of a certain station in the world. There are thy two cousins,
Brom and Kobus, who are no better than a couple of blackguards; and as
for the English negro, Diomede—he is a devil’s imp! Thou hast the other
locks at disposal, and,” drawing with visible reluctance the instrument
from his pocket, “here is the key of the stable. Not a hoof is to quit
it, but to go to the pump—and see that each animal has its food to a
minute. The devil’s roysterers! a Manhattan negro takes a Flemish
gelding for a gaunt hound that is never out of breath, and away he
goes, at night, scampering along the highways like a Yankee witch
switching through the air on a broomstick—but mark me, master Euclid, I
have eyes in my head, as thou knowest by bitter experience! D’ye
remember, ragamuffin, the time when I saw thee, from the Hague, riding
the beasts, as if the devil spurred them, along the dykes of Leyden,
without remorse as without leave?”

“I alway b’rieve some make-mischief tell Masser dat time;” returned the
negro sulkily, though not without doubt.

“His own eyes were the tell-tales. If masters had no eyes, a pretty
world would the negroes make of it! I have got the measure of every
black heel, on the island, registered in the big book, you see me so
often looking into, especially on Sundays; and, if either of the
tire-legs I have named dares to enter my grounds, let him expect to pay
a visit to the city Provost. What do the wild-cats mean? Do they think
that the geldings were bought in Holland, with charges for breaking in,
shipment, insurance, freight, and risk of diseases, to have their flesh
melted from their ribs like a cook’s candle?”

“Ere no’tin’ done in all ’e island, but a color’ man do him! He do a
mischief, and he do all a work, too! I won’er what color Masser t’ink
war’ Captain Kidd?”

“Black or white, he was a rank rogue; and you see the end he came to. I
warrant you, now, that water-thief began his iniquities by riding the
neighbors’ horses, at night. His fate should be a warning to every
negro in the colony. The imps of darkness! The English have no such
scarcity of rogues at home, that they could not spare us the pirate to
hang up on one of the islands, as a scarecrow to the blacks of
Manhattan.”

“Well, I t’ink ’e sight do a white man some good, too;” returned
Euclid, who had all the pertinacity of a spoiled Dutch negro,
singularly blended with affection for him in whose service he had been
born. “I hear ebbery body say, ’ere war’ but two color’ man in he ship,
and ’em bot’ war’ Guinea-born.”

“A modest tongue, thou midnight scamperer! look to my
geldings—Here—here are two Dutch florins, three stivers, and a Spanish
pistareen for thee; one of the florins is for thy old mother, and with
the others thou canst lighten thy heart in the Paus merrymakings—if I
hear that either of thy rascally cousins, or the English Diomede, has
put a leg across beast of mine, it will be the worse for all Africa!
Famine and skeletons! here have I been seven years trying to fatten the
nags, and they still look more like weasels than a pair of solid
geldings.”

The close of this speech was rather muttered in the distance, and by
way of soliloquy, than actually administered to the namesake of the
great mathematician. The air of the negro had been a little equivocal,
during the parting admonition. There was an evident struggle, in his
mind, between an innate love of disobedience, and a secret dread of his
master’s means of information. So long as the latter continued in
sight, the black watched his form in doubt; and when it had turned a
corner, he stood at gaze, for a moment, with a negro on a neighboring
stoop; then both shook their heads significantly, laughed aloud, and
retired. That night, the confidential servant attended to the interests
of his absent master, with a fidelity and care which proved he felt his
own existence identified with that of a man who claimed so close a
right in his person; and just as the clock struck ten, he and the negro
last mentioned mounted the sluggish and over-fattened horses, and
galloped, as hard as foot could be laid to the earth, several miles
deeper into the island, to attend a frolic at one of the usual haunts
of the people of their color and condition.

Had Alderman Myndert Van Beverout suspected the calamity which was so
soon to succeed his absence, it is probable that his mien would have
been less composed, as he pursued his way from his own door, on the
occasion named. That he had confidence in the virtue of his menaces,
however, may be inferred from the tranquillity which immediately took
possession of features that were never disturbed, without wearing an
appearance of unnatural effort. The substantial burgher was a little
turned of fifty: and an English wag, who had imported from the mother
country a love for the humor of his nation, had once, in a conflict of
wits before the city council, described him to be a man of
alliterations. When called upon to explain away this breach of
parliamentary decorum, the punster had gotten rid of the matter, by
describing his opponent to be “short, solid and sturdy, in stature;
full, flushed and funny, in face; and proud, ponderous and pragmatical,
in propensities.” But, as is usual, in all sayings of effort there was
more smartness than truth in this description; though, after making a
trifling allowance for the coloring of political rivalry, the reader
may receive its physical portion as sufficiently descriptive to answer
all the necessary purposes of this tale. If we add, that he was a
trader of great wealth and shrewdness, and a bachelor, we need say no
more in this stage of the narrative.

Notwithstanding the early hour at which this industrious and
flourishing merchant quitted his abode, his movement along the narrow
streets of his native town was measured and dignified. More than once,
he stopped to speak to some favorite family-servant, invariably
terminating his inquiries after the health of the master, by some
facetious observation adapted to the habits and capacity of the slave.
From this, it would seem, that, while he had so exaggerated notions of
domestic discipline, the worthy burgher was far from being one who
indulged, by inclination, in the menaces he has been heard to utter. He
had just dismissed one of these loitering negroes, when, on turning a
corner, a man of his own color, for the first time that morning,
suddenly stood before him. The startled citizen made an involuntary
movement to avoid the unexpected interview, and then, perceiving the
difficulty of such a step, he submitted, with as good a grace as if it
had been one of his own seeking.

“The orb of day—the morning gun—and Mr Alderman Van Beverout!”
exclaimed the individual encountered. “Such is the order of events, at
this early hour, on each successive revolution of our earth.”

The countenance of the Alderman had barely time to recover its
composure, ere he was required to answer to this free and somewhat
facetious salutation. Uncovering his head, he bowed so ceremoniously as
to leave the other no reason to exult in his pleasantry, as he
answered—

“The colony has reason to regret the services of a governor who can
quit his bed so soon. That we of business habits stir betimes, is quite
in reason; but there are those in this town, who would scarce believe
their eyes did they enjoy my present happiness.”

“Sir, there are many in this colony who have great reason to distrust
their senses, though none can be mistaken in believing they see
Alderman Van Beverout in a well-employed man. He that dealeth in the
produce of the beaver must have the animal’s perseverance and
forethought! Now, were I a king-at-arms, there should be a concession
made in thy favor, Myndert, of a shield bearing the animal mordant, a
mantle of fur, with two Mohawk hunters for supporters, and the motto,
‘Industry.’”

“Or what think you, my Lord,” returned the other, who did not more than
half relish the pleasantry of his companion, “of a spotless shield for
a clear conscience, with an open hand for a crest, and the motto,
‘Frugality and Justice?’”

“I like the open hand, though the conceit is pretending. I see you
would intimate that the Van Beverouts have not need, at this late day,
to search a herald’s office for honors. I remember, now I bethink me,
on some occasion to have seen their bearings; a windmill, courant;
dyke, coulant; field, vert, sprinkled with black cattle—No! then,
memory is treacherous; the morning air is pregnant with food for the
imagination!”

“Which is not a coin to satisfy a creditor, my Lord,” said the caustic
Myndert.

“Therein has truth been, pithily, spoken. This is an ill-judged step,
Alderman Van Beverout, that lets a gentleman out by night, like the
ghost in Hamlet, to flee into the narrow house with the crowing of the
cock. The ear of my royal cousin hath been poisoned, worse than was the
ear of ‘murdered Denmark,’ or the partisans of this Mister Hunter would
have little cause to triumph.”

“Is it not possible to give such pledges to those who have turned the
key, as will enable your lordship to apply the antidote.”

The question struck a chord that changed the whole manner of the other.
His air, which had borne the character of a genteel trifler, became
more grave and dignified; and notwithstanding there was the evidence of
a reckless disposition in his features, dress and carriage, his tall
and not ungraceful form, as he walked slowly onward, by the side of the
compact Alderman, was not without much of that insinuating ease and
blandishment, which long familiarity with good company can give even to
the lowest moral worth.

“Your question, worthy sir, manifests great goodness of heart, and
corroborates that reputation for generosity, the world so freely gives.
It is true that the Queen has been persuaded to sign the mandate of my
recall, and it is certain that Mr. Hunter has the government of the
colony; but these are facts that might be reversed, were I once in a
position to approach my kinswoman. I do not disclaim certain
indiscretions, sir; it would ill become me to deny them, in presence of
one whose virtue is as severe as that of Alderman Van Beverout. I have
my failings; perhaps, as you have just been pleased to intimate, it
would have been better had my motto been frugality; but the open hand,
dear sir, is a part of the design you will not deny me, either. If I
have weaknesses, my enemies cannot refuse to say that I never yet
deserted a friend.”

“Not having had occasion to tax your friendship, I shall not be the
first to make the charge.

“Your impartiality has come to be a proverb! ‘As honest as Alderman Van
Beverout;’ ‘as generous as Alderman Van Beverout,’ are terms in each
man’s mouth; some say ‘as rich;’ (the small blue eye of the burgher
twinkled.) But honesty, and riches, and generosity, are of little
value, without influence. Men should have their natural consideration
in society. Now is this colony rather Dutch than English, and yet, you
see, how few names are found in the list of the Council, that have been
known in the province half a century! Here are your Alexanders and
Heathcotes, your Morris’s and Kennedies, de Lanceys and Livingstons,
filling the Council and the legislative halls; but we find few of the
Van Rensselaers, Van Courtlandts, Van Schuylers, Stuyvesants, Van
Beekmans, and Van Beverouts, in their natural stations. All nations and
religions have precedency, in the royal favor, over the children of the
Patriarchs. The Bohemian Felipses; the Huguenot de Lanceys, and
Bayards, and Jays; the King-hating Morrises and Ludlows—in short, all
have greater estimation in the eyes of government, than the most
ancient Patroon!”

“This has long and truly been the case. I cannot remember when it was
otherwise!”

“It may not be denied. But it would little become political discretion
to affect precipitancy in the judgment of character. If my own
administration can be stigmatized with the same apparent prejudice, it
proves the clearer how strong is misrepresentation at home. Time was
wanting to enlighten my mind and that time has been refused me. In
another year, my worthy sir, the Council should have been filled with
Van’s!”

“In such a case, my Lord, the unhappy condition in which you are now
placed might indeed have been avoided.”

“Is it too late to arrest the evil? It is time Anne had been
undeceived, and her mind regained. There wanteth nothing to such a
consummation of justice, sir, but opportunity. It touches me to the
heart, to think that this disgrace should befall one so near the royal
blood! ’Tis a spot on the escutcheon of the crown, that all loyal
subjects must feel desirous to efface, and so small an effort would
effect the object, too, with certain—Mr. Alderman Myndert Van
Beverout——?”

“My Lord, late Governor,” returned the other, observing that his
companion hesitated.

“What think you of this Hanoverian settlement?—Shall a German wear the
crown of a Plantagenet?”

“It hath been worn by a Hollander.”

“Aptly answered! Worn, and worn worthily! There is affinity between the
people, and there is reason in that reply. How have I failed in wisdom,
in not seeking earlier the aid of thy advice, excellent sir! Ah,
Myndert, there is a blessing on the enterprises of all who come of the
Low Countries!”

“They are industrious to earn, and slow to squander.”

“That expenditure is the ruin of many a worthy subject! And yet
accident—chance—fortune—or whatever you may choose to call it,
interferes nefariously, at times, with a gentleman’s prosperity. I am
an adorer of constancy in friendship, sir, and hold the principle that
men should aid each other through this dark vale of life—Mr. Alderman
Van Beverout——?”

“My Lord Cornbury?”

“I was about to say, that should I quit the Province, without
expressing part of the regret I feel, at not having sooner ascertained
the merits of its original owners, and your own in particular, I should
do injustice to sensibilities, that are only too acute for the peace of
him who endures them.”

“Is there then hope that your lordship’s creditors will relent, or has
the Earl furnished means to open the prison-door?”

“You use the pleasantest terms, sir!—but I love directness of language,
above all other qualities. No doubt the prison-door, as you have so
clearly expressed it, might be opened, and lucky would be the man who
should turn the key. I am pained when I think of the displeasure of the
Queen, which, sooner or later, will surely visit my luckless
persecutors. On the other hand, I find relief in thinking of the favor
she will extend to those who have proved my friends, in such a strait.
They that wear crowns love not to see disgrace befall the meanest of
their blood, for something of the taint may sully even the ermine of
Majesty.—Mr. Alderman——!”

“My Lord?”

“—How fare the Flemish geldings?”

“Bravely, and many thanks, my Lord; the rogues are fat as butter! There
is hope of a little rest for the innocents, since business calls me to
the Lust in Rust. There should be a law, Lord Governor, to gibbet the
black that rides a beast at night.”

“I bethought of some condign punishment for so heartless a crime, but
there is little hope for it under the administration of this Mr.
Hunter. Yes, sir; were I once more in the presence of my royal cousin,
there would quickly be an end to this delusion, and the colony should
be once more restored to a healthful state. The men of a generation
should cease to lord it over the men of a century. But we must be wary
of letting our design, my dear sir, get wind: it is a truly Dutch idea,
and the profits, both pecuniary and political, should belong to the
gentlemen of that descent—My dear Van Beverout—?”

“My good Lord?”

“Is the blooming Alida obedient? Trust me, there has no family event
occurred, during my residence in the colony, in which I have taken a
nearer interest, than in that desirable connexion. The wooing of the
young Patroon of Kinderhook is an affair of concern to the province. It
is a meritorious youth!”

“With an excellent estate, my Lord!”

“And a gravity beyond his years.”

“I would give a guarantee, at a risk, that two-thirds of his income
goes to increase the capital, at the beginning of each season!”

“He seems a man to live on air!”

“My old friend, the last Patroon, left noble assets,” continued the
Alderman, rubbing his hands; “besides the manor.”

“Which is no paddock!”

“It reaches from the Hudson to the line of Massachusetts. A hundred
thousand acres of hill and bottom, and well peopled by frugal
Hollanders.”

“Respectable in possession, and a mine of gold in reversion! Such men,
sir, should be cherished. We owe it to his station to admit him to a
share of this, our project to undeceive the Queen. How superior are the
claims of such a gentleman to the empty pretensions of your Captain
Ludlow!”

“He has truly a very good and an improving estate!”

“These Ludlows, sir, people that fled the realm for plotting against
the crown, are offensive to a loyal subject. Indeed, too much of this
objection may be imputed to many in the province, that come of English
blood. I am sorry to say, that they are fomenters of discord,
disturbers of the public mind, and captious disputants about
prerogatives and vested rights. But there is a repose in the Dutch
character which lends it dignity! The descendants of the Hollanders are
men to be counted on; where we leave them to-day, we see them
to-morrow. As we say in politics, sir, we know where to find them. Does
it not seem to you particularly offensive that this Captain Ludlow
should command the only royal cruiser on the station?”

“I should like it better, my Lord, were he to serve in Europe,”
returned the Alderman, glancing a look behind him, and lowering his
voice. “There was lately a rumor that his ship was in truth to be sent
among the islands.”

“Matters are getting very wrong, most worthy sir; and the greater the
necessity there should be one at court to undeceive the Queen.
Innovators should be made to give way to men whose names are
historical, in the colony.”

“’Twould be no worse for Her Majesty’s credit.”

“’Twould be another jewel in her crown! Should this Captain Ludlow
actually marry your niece, the family would altogether change its
character—I have the worst memory—thy mother, Myndert, was a—a—”

“The pious woman was a Van Busser.”

“The union of thy sister with the Huguenot then reduces the fair Alida
to the quality of a half-blood. The Ludlow connexion would destroy the
leaven of the race! I think the man is penniless!”

“I cannot say that, my Lord, for I would not willingly injure the
credit of my worst enemy; but, though wealthy, he is far from having
the estate of the young Patroon of Kinderhook.”

“He should indeed be sent into the Indies—Myndert—?”

“My Lord?”

“It would be unjust to my sentiments in favor of Mr. Oloff Van Staats,
were we to exclude him from the advantages of our project. This much
shall I exact from your friendship, in his favor; the necessary sum may
be divided, in moieties, between you; a common bond shall render the
affair compact; and then, as we shall be masters of our own secret,
there can be little doubt of the prudence of our measures. The amount
is written in this bit of paper.”

“Two thousand pounds, my Lord!”

“Pardon me, dear sir; not a penny more than one for each of you.
Justice to Van Staats requires that you let him into the affair. Were
it not for the suit with your niece, I should take the young gentleman
with me, to push his fortunes at court.”

“Truly, my Lord, this greatly exceeds my means. The high prices of furs
the past season, and delays in returns have placed a seal upon our
silver—”

“The premium would be high.”

“Coin is getting so scarce, daily, that the face of a Carolus is almost
as great a stranger, as the face of a debtor—”

“The returns certain.”

“While one’s creditors meet him, at every corner—”

“The concern would be altogether Dutch.”

“And last advices from Holland tell us to reserve our gold, for some
extraordinary movements in the commercial world.”

“Mr. Alderman Myndert Van Beverout!”

“My Lord Viscount Cornbury—”

“Plutus preserve thee, sir—but have a care! though I scent the morning
air, and must return, it is not forbid to tell the secrets of my
prison-house. There is one, in yonder cage, who whispers that the
‘Skimmer of the Seas’ is on the coast! Be wary, worthy burgher, or the
second part of the tragedy of Kidd may yet be enacted in these seas.”

“I leave such transactions to my superiors,” retorted the Alderman,
with another stiff and ceremonious bow. “Enterprises that are said to
have occupied the Earl of Bellamont, Governor Fletcher, and my Lord
Cornbury, are above the ambition of an humble merchant.”

“Adieu, tenacious sir; quiet thine impatience for the extraordinary
Dutch movements!” said Cornbury, affecting to laugh, though he secretly
felt the sting the other had applied, since common report implicated
not only him, but his two official predecessors, in several of the
lawless proceedings of the American Buccaneers: “Be vigilant, or la
demoiselle Barbérie will give another cross to the purity of the
stagnant pool!”

The bows that were exchanged were strictly in character. The Alderman
was unmoved, rigid, and formal, while his companion could not forget
his ease of manner, even at a moment of so much vexation. Foiled in an
effort, that nothing but his desperate condition, and nearly desperate
character, could have induced him to attempt, the degenerate descendant
of the virtuous Clarendon walked towards his place of confinement, with
the step of one who assumed a superiority over his fellows, and yet
with a mind so indurated by habitual depravity, as to have left it
scarcely the trace of a dignified or virtuous quality.




CHAPTER II.


“His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles;
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate;—”

Two Gentlemen of Verona.


The philosophy of Alderman Van Beverout was not easily disturbed. Still
there was a play of the nether muscles of the face, which might be
construed into self-complacency at his victory, while a certain
contraction of those which controlled the expression of the forehead
seemed to betray a full consciousness of the imminent risk he had run.
The left hand was thrust into a pocket, where it diligently fingered
the provision of Spanish coin without which the merchant never left his
abode; while the other struck the cane it held on the pavement, with
the force of a resolute and decided man. In this manner he proceeded in
his walk, for several minutes longer, shortly quitting the lower
streets, to enter one that ran along the ridge, which crowned the land,
in that quarter of the island. Here he soon stopped before the door of
a house which, in that provincial town, had altogether the air of a
patrician dwelling.

Two false gables, each of which was surmounted by an iron weathercock,
intersected the roof of this building, and the high and narrow stoop
was built of the red free-stone of the country. The material of the
edifice itself was, as usual, the small, hard brick of Holland, painted
a delicate cream-color.

A single blow of the massive glittering knocker brought a servant to
the door. The promptitude with which this summons was answered showed
that, notwithstanding the early hour, the Alderman was an expected
guest. The countenance of him who acted as porter betrayed no surprise
when he saw the person who applied for admission, and every movement of
the black denoted preparation and readiness for his reception.
Declining his invitation to enter, however, the Alderman placed his
back against the iron railing of the stoop, and opened a discourse with
the negro. The latter was aged, with a head that was grizzled, a nose
that was levelled nearly to the plane of his face, features that were
wrinkled and confused, and with a form which, though still solid, was
bending with its load of years.

“Brave cheer to thee, old Cupid!” commenced the burgher, in the hearty
and cordial manner with which the masters of that period were wont to
address their indulged slaves. “A clear conscience is a good night-cap,
and you look bright as the morning sun! I hope my friend the young
Patroon has slept sound as yourself, and that he has shown his face
already, to prove it.”

The negro answered with the slow clipping manner that characterized his
condition and years.

“He’m werry wakeful, Masser Al’erman. I t’ink he no sleep half he time,
lately. All he a’tiverty and wiwacerty gone, an’ he do no single t’ing
but smoke. A gentle’um who smoke alway, Masser Al’erman, get to be a
melercholy man, at last. I do t’ink ’ere be one young lady in York who
be he deat’, some time!”

“We’ll find the means to get the pipe out of his mouth,” said the
other, looking askance at the black, as if to express more than he
uttered. “Romance and pretty girls play the deuce with our philosophy,
in youth, as thou knowest by experience, old Cupid.”

“I no good for any t’ing, dat-a-way, now, not’ing,” calmly returned the
black. “I see a one time, when few color’ man in York hab more respect
among a fair sec’, but dat a great while gone by. Now, de modder of
your Euclid, Masser Al’erman, war’ a pretty woman, do’ she hab but poor
conduc’. Den a war’ young heself, and I use to visit at de Al’erman’s
fadder’s; afore a English come, and when ole Patroon war’ a young man.
Golly! I great affection for Euclid, do’ a young dog nebber come a near
me!”

“He’s a blackguard! My back is no sooner turned, than the rascal’s atop
of one of his master’s geldings.”

“He’m werry young, master My’nert: no one get a wis’om fore a gray
hair.”

He’s forty every minute, and the rogue gets impudence with his years.
Age is a reverend and respectable condition, when it brings gravity and
thought; but, if a young fool be tiresome, an old fool is contemptible.
I’ll warrant me, you never were so thoughtless, or so heartless, Cupid,
as to ride an overworked beast, at night!”

“Well, I get pretty ole, Masser Myn’ert an’ I forget all he do when a
young man. But here be ’e Patroon, who know how to tell ’e Al’erman
such t’ing better than a poor color’ slave.”

“A fair rising and a lucky day to you, Patroon!” cried the Alderman,
saluting a large, slow-moving, gentlemanly-looking young man of
five-and-twenty, who advanced, with the gravity of one of twice that
number of years, from the interior of the house, towards its outer door
“The winds are bespoken, and here is as fine a day as ever shone out of
a clear sky, whether it came from the pure atmosphere of Holland, or of
old England itself. Colonies and patronage! If the people on the other
side of the ocean had more faith in mother Nature, and less opinion of
themselves, they would find it very tolerable breathing in the
plantations. But the conceited rogues are like the man who blew the
bellows, and fancied he made the music; and there is never a hobbling
imp of them all, but he believes he is straighter and sounder, than the
best in the colonies. Here is our bay, now, as smooth as if it were
shut in with twenty dykes, and the voyage will be as safe as if it were
made on a canal.”

“Dat werry well, if a do it,” grumbled Cupid, who busied himself
affectionately about the person of his master. “I think it alway better
to travel on ’e land, when a gentle’um own so much as Masser Oloff. Der
war’ ’e time a ferry-boat go down, wid crowd of people; and nobody
ebber come up again to say how he feel.”

“Here is some mistake!” interrupted the Alderman, throwing an uneasy
glance at his young friend. “I count four-and-fifty years, and remember
no such calamity.”

“He’m werry sing’lar how a young folk do forget! ’Ere war’ drown six
people in dat werry-boat. A two Yankee, a Canada Frenchman, and a poor
woman from a Jarseys. Ebbery body war’ werry sorry for a poor woman
from a Jarseys!”

“Thy tally is false, Master Cupid,” promptly rejoined the Alderman, who
was rather expert at figures. “Two Yankees, a Frenchman, and your
Jersey woman, make but four.”

“Well, den I s’pose ’ere war’ one Yankee; but I, know all war’ drown,
for ’e Gubbenor lose he fine coach-horses in dat werry-boat.”

“The old fellow is right, sure enough; for I remember the calamity of
the horses, as if it were but yesterday. But Death is monarch of the
earth, and none of us may hope to escape his scythe, when the appointed
hour shall come! Here are no nags to lose, to-day; and we may commence
our voyage, Patroon, with cheerful faces and light hearts. Shall we
proceed?”

Oloff Van Staats, or the Patroon of Kinderhook, as, by the courtesy of
the colony, he was commonly termed, did not want for personal firmness.
On the contrary, like most of those who were descended from the
Hollanders, he was rather distinguished for steadiness in danger, and
obstinacy in resistance. The little skirmish which had just taken
place, between his friend and his slave, had proceeded from the several
apprehensions; the one feeling a sort of parental interest in his
safety, and the other having particular reasons for wishing him to
persevere in his intention to embark, instead of any justifiable cause
in the character of the young proprietor himself. A sign to the boy who
bore a portmanteau, settled the controversy; and then Mr. Van Staats
intimated his readiness to move.

Cupid lingered on the stoop, until his master had turned a corner;
then, shaking his head with all the misgivings of an ignorant and
superstitious mind, he drove the young fry of blacks, who thronged the
door, into the house, closing all after him with singular and
scrupulous care. How far the presentiment of the black was warranted by
the event, will be seen in the course of the narrative.

The wide avenue, in which Oloff Van Staats dwelt, was but a few hundred
yards in length. It terminated, at one end, with the fortress; and at
the other, it was crossed by a high stockade, which bore the name of
the city walls; a defence that was provided against any sudden
irruption of the Indians, who then hunted, and even dwelt in some
numbers, in the lower counties of the colony.

It requires great familiarity with the growth of the town, to
recognize, in this description, the noble street that now runs for a
league through the centre of the island. From this avenue, which was
then, as it is still, called the Broadway, our adventurers descended
into a lower quarter of the town, holding free converse by the way.

“That Cupid is a negro to keep the roof on a house, in its master’s
absence, Patroon,” observed the Alderman, soon after they had left the
stoop. “He looks like a padlock, and one might sleep, without a dream,
with such a guardian near his dwelling. I wish I had brought the honest
fellow the key of my stable!”

“I have heard my father say, that the keys of his own were always
better near his own pillow,” coolly returned the proprietor of a
hundred thousand acres.

“Ah, the curse of Cain! It is needless to look for the fur of a marten
on the back of a cat. But, Mr. Van Staats, while walking to your door
this morning, it was my fortune to meet the late governor, who is
permitted by his creditors to take the air, at an hour when he thinks
the eyes of the impertinent will be shut. I believe, Patroon, you were
so lucky as to get back your moneys, before the royal displeasure
visited the man?”

“I was so lucky as never to trust him.”

“That was better still, for it would have been a barren
investment—great jeopardy to principal, and no return. But we had
discourse of various interests, and, among others, something was
hazarded concerning your amatory pretensions to my niece.”

“Neither the wishes of Oloff Van Staats, nor the inclinations of la
belle Barbérie, are a subject for the Governor in Council,” said the
Patroon of Kinderhook, stiffly.

“Nor was it thus treated. The Viscount spoke me fair, and, had he not
pushed the matter beyond discretion, we might have come to happier
conclusions.”

“I am glad that there was some restraint in the discourse.”

“The man certainly exceeded reason, for he led the conference into
personalities that no prudent man could relish. Still he said it was
possible that the Coquette might yet be ordered for service among the
islands!”

It has been said, that Oloff Van Staats was a fair personable young man
of vast stature, and with much of the air of a gentleman of his
country; for, though a British subject, he was rather a Hollander in
feelings, habits, and opinions. He colored at the allusion to the
presence of his known rival, though his companion was at a loss to
discover whether pride or vexation was at the bottom of his emotion.

“If Captain Ludlow prefer a cruise in the Indies, to duty on this
coast, I hope he may obtain his wish,” was the cautious answer.

“Your liberal man enjoys a sounding name, and an empty coffer,”
observed the Alderman, drily. “To me it seems that a petition to the
admiral to send so meritorious an officer on service where he may
distinguish himself, should deserve his thanks. The freebooters are
playing the devil’s game with the sugar trade, and even the French are
getting troublesome, further south.”

“He has certainly the reputation of an active cruiser.”

“Blixum and philosophy! If you wish to succeed with Alida, Patroon, you
must put more briskness into the adventure. The girl has a cross of the
Frenchman in her temper, and none of your deliberations and
taciturnities will gain the day. This visit to the Lust in Rust is
Cupid’s own handywork, and I hope to see you both return to town as
amicable as the Stadtholder and the States General after a sharp
struggle for the year’s subsidy has been settled by a compromise.”

“The success of this suit is the affair nearest my——” The young man
paused as if surprised at his own communicativeness; and, taking
advantage of the haste in which his toilette had been made, he thrust a
hand into his vest, covering with its broad palm a portion of the human
frame which poets do not describe as the seat of the passions.

“If you mean stomach, sir, you will not have reason to be
disappointed,” retorted the Alderman, a little more severely than was
usual with one so callous. “The heiress of Myndert Van Beverout will
not be a penniless bride, and Monsieur Barbérie did not close the books
of life without taking good care of the balance-sheet—but yonder are
those devils of ferrymen quitting the wharf without us! Scamper ahead,
Brutus, and tell them to wait the legal minute. The rogues are never
exact; sometimes starting before I am ready, and sometimes keeping me
waiting in the sun, as if I were no better than a dried dun-fish.
Punctuality is the soul of business, and one of my habits does not like
to be ahead, nor behind his time.”

In this manner the worthy burgher, who would have been glad to regulate
the movements of others, on all occasions, a good deal by his own,
vented his complaints, while he and his companion hurried on to
overtake the slow-moving boat in which they were to embark. A brief
description of the scene will not be without interest, to a generation
that may be termed modern in reference to the time of which we write.

A deep narrow creek penetrated the island, at this point, for the
distance of a quarter of a mile. Each of its banks had a row of
buildings, as the houses line a canal in the cities of Holland. As the
natural course of the inlet was necessarily respected, the street had
taken a curvature not unlike that of a new moon. The houses were
ultra-Dutch, being low, angular, fastidiously neat, and all erected
with their gables to the street. Each had its ugly and inconvenient
entrance, termed a stoop, its vane or weathercock, its dormer-windows,
and its graduated battlement-walls. Near the apex of one of the latter,
a little iron crane projected into the street. A small boat, of the
same metal, swung from its end,—a sign that the building to which it
was appended was the ferry-house.

An inherent love of artificial and confined navigation had probably
induced the burghers to select this spot, as the place whence so many
craft departed from the town: since, it is certain, that the two rivers
could have furnished divers points more favorable for such an object,
inasmuch as they possess the advantage of wide and unobstructed
channels.

Fifty blacks were already in the street, dipping their brooms into the
creek, and flourishing water over the side-walks, and on the fronts of
the low edifices. This light but daily duty was relieved by clamorous
collisions of wit, and by shouts of merriment, in which the whole
street would join, as with one joyous and reckless movement of the
spirit.

The language of this light-hearted and noisy race was Dutch, already
corrupted by English idioms, and occasionally by English words;—a
system of change that has probably given rise to an opinion, among some
of the descendants of the earlier colonists, that the latter tongue is
merely a patois of the former. This opinion, which so much resembles
that certain well-read English scholars entertain of the plagiarisms of
the continental writers, when they first begin to dip into their works,
is not strictly true; since the language of England has probably
bestowed as much on the dialect of which we speak, as it has ever
received from the purer sources of the school of Holland. Here and
there, a grave burgher, still in his night-cap, might be seen with a
head thrust out of an upper window, listening to these barbarisms of
speech, and taking note of all the merry jibes, that flew from mouth to
mouth with an indomitable gravity, that no levity of those beneath
could undermine.

As the movement of the ferry-boat was necessarily slow, the Alderman
and his companion were enabled to step into it, before the fasts were
thrown aboard. The periagua, as the craft was called, partook of a
European and an American character. It possessed the length,
narrowness, and clean bow, of the canoe, from which its name was
derived, with the flat bottom and lee-boards of a boat constructed for
the shallow waters of the Low Countries. Twenty years ago, vessels of
this description abounded in our rivers, and even now, their two long
and unsupported masts and high narrow-headed sails, are daily seen
bending like reeds to the breeze, and dancing lightly over the billows
of the bay. There is a variety of the class, of a size and pretension
altogether superior to that just mentioned, which deserves a place
among the most picturesque and striking boats that float. He who has
had occasion to navigate the southern shore of the Sound must have
often seen the vessel to which we allude. It is distinguished by its
great length, and masts which, naked of cordage, rise from the hull
like two tall and faultless trees. When the eye runs over the daring
height of canvas, the noble confidence of the rig, and sees the
comparatively vast machine handled with ease and grace by the dexterity
of two fearless and expert mariners, it excites some such admiration as
that which springs from the view of a severe temple of antiquity. The
nakedness and simplicity of the construction, coupled with the boldness
and rapidity of its movements, impart to the craft an air of grandeur,
that its ordinary uses would not give reason to expect.

Though, in some respects, of singularly aquatic habits, the original
colonists of New-York were far less adventurous, as mariners, than
their present descendants. A passage across the bay did not often occur
in the tranquil lives of the burghers; and it is still within the
memory of man, that a voyage between the two principal towns of the
State was an event to excite the solicitude of friends, and the anxiety
of the traveller. The perils of the Tappaan Zee, as one of the wider
reaches of the Hudson is still termed, was often dealt with by the good
wives of the colony, in their relations of marvels; and she who had
oftenest encountered them unharmed, was deemed a sort of marine amazon.




CHAPTER III.


“—I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning
mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows.”

Tempest.


It has been said that the periagua was in motion, before our two
adventurers succeeded in stepping on board. The arrival of the Patroon
of Kinderhook and of Alderman Van Beverout was expected, and the
schipper had taken his departure at the precise moment of the turn in
the current, in order to show, with a sort of pretending independence
which has a peculiar charm for men in his situation, that ‘time and
tide wait for no man.’ Still there were limits to his decision; for,
while he put the boat in motion, especial care was taken that the
circumstance should not subject a customer so important and constant as
the Alderman, to any serious inconvenience. When he and his friend had
embarked, the painters were thrown aboard, and the crew of the
ferry-boat began to set their vessel, in earnest, towards the mouth of
the creek. During these movements, a young negro was seated in the bow
of the periagua, with his legs dangling, one on each side of the
cut-water, forming no bad apology for a figure-head. He held a conch to
his mouth, and with his two glossy cheeks inflated like those of Eolus,
and his dark glittering eyes expressing the delight he found in drawing
sounds from the shell, he continued to give forth the signal for
departure.

“Put up the conch, thou bawler!” cried the Alderman, giving the younker
a rap on his naked poll, in passing, with the end of his cane, that
might have disturbed the harmony of one less bent on clamor. “A
thousand windy trumpeters would be silence itself, compared to such a
pair of lungs! How now Master Schipper, is this your punctuality, to
start before your passengers are ready?”

The undisturbed boatman, without removing the pipe from his mouth,
pointed to the bubbles on the water which were already floating
outward, a certain evidence that the tide was on the ebb.

“I care nothing for your ins and outs, your ebbs and floods,” returned
the Alderman, in heat. “There is no better time-piece than the leg and
eye of a punctual man. It is no more pleasant to go before one is
ready, than to tarry when all business is done. Harkee, Master
Schipper, you are not the only navigator in this bay, nor is your craft
the swiftest that was ever launched. Have a care; though an acquiescing
man by nature, I know how to encourage an opposition, when the public
good seriously calls for my support.”

To the attack on himself, the schipper was stoically indifferent, but
to impeach the qualities of the periagua was to attack one who depended
solely on his eloquence for vindication. Removing his pipe, therefore,
he rejoined on the Alderman, with that sort of freedom, that the sturdy
Hollanders never failed to use to all offenders, regardless alike of
rank or personal qualities.

“Der wind-gall and Aldermen!” he growled, in the dialect of the
country; “I should be glad to see the boat in York-bay that can show
the Milk-Maid her stern! The Mayor and council-men had better order the
tide to turn when they please; and then as each man will think of his
own pleasure, a pretty set of whirlpools they will give us in the
harbor!”

The schipper, having delivered himself of his sentiments, to this
effect, resumed his pipe, like a man who felt he deserved the meed of
victory, whether he were to receive it, or not.

“It is useless to dispute with an obstinate man,” muttered the Alderman
making his way through vegetable baskets, butter-tubs, and all the
garniture of a market-boat, to the place occupied by his niece, in the
stern-sheets. “Good morrow to thee Alida dear; early rising will make a
flower-garden of thy cheeks, and the fresh air of the Lust in Rust will
give even thy roses a deeper bloom.”

The mollified burgher then saluted the cheek whose bloom had been
deepened by his remark, with a warmth that showed he was not without
natural affection; touched his hat, in return for a low bow that he
received from an aged white man-servant; in a clean but ancient livery;
and nodded to a young negress, whose second-hand finery sufficiently
showed she was a personal attendant of the heiress.

A second glance at Alida de Barbérie was scarcely necessary to betray
her mixed descent. From her Norman father, a Huguenot of the petite
noblesse, she had inherited her raven hair, the large, brilliant
coal-black eyes, in which wildness was singularly relieved by
sweetness, a classical and faultless profile, and a form which was both
taller and more flexible than commonly fell to the lot of the damsels
of Holland. From her mother, la belle Barbérie, as the maiden was often
playfully termed, had received a skin, fair and spotless as the flower
of France, and a bloom which rivalled the rich tints of an evening sky
in her native land. Some of the embonpoint, for which the sister of the
Alderman had been a little remarkable, had descended also to her fairer
daughter. In Alida, however, this peculiarity did not exceed the
fullness which became her years, rounding her person and softening the
outlines of her form, rather than diminishing its ease and grace. These
personal advantages were embellished by a neat but modest travelling
habit, a little beaver that was shaded by a cluster of drooping
feathers, and a mien that, under the embarrassment of her situation
preserved the happiest medium between modesty and perfect
self-possession.

When Alderman Van Beverout joined this fair creature, in whose future
happiness he was fully justified in taking the deep interest which he
has betrayed in some of the opening scenes of this volume, he found her
engaged in a courteous discourse with the young man, who was generally
considered as the one, among the numerous pretenders to her favor, who
was most likely to succeed. Had other cause been wanting, this sight
alone would have been sufficient to restore his good-humor; and, making
a place for himself, by quietly dispossessing François, the domestic of
his niece, the persevering burgher endeavored to encourage an
intercourse, that he had reason to think must terminate in the result
he both meditated and desired.

In the present effort, however, the Alderman failed. There is a feeling
which universally pervades landsmen and landswomen, when they first
embark on an element to which they are strangers, that ordinarily shuts
their mouths and renders them meditative. In the older and more
observant travellers, it is observation and comparison; while with the
younger and more susceptible, it is very apt to take the character of
sentiment. Without stopping to analyze the cause, or the consequences,
in the instance of the Patroon and la belle Barbérie, it will be
sufficient to state, that in spite of all the efforts of the worthy
burgher, who had navigated the sluggish creek too often to be the
subject of any new emotions, his youthful companions gradually grew
silent and thoughtful. Though a celibite in his own person, Myndert had
not now to learn that the infant god as often does his mischief through
this quiet agency, as in any other manner. He became, therefore, mute
in his turn, watching the slow movement of the periagua with as much
assiduity as if he saw his own image on the water.

A quarter of an hour of this characteristic, and it is to be inferred
agreeable navigation, brought the boat to the mouth of the inlet. Here
a powerful effort forced her into the tide’s-way, and she might be said
to put forth on her voyage. But while the black crew were trimming the
sails, and making the other necessary preparations for departure, a
voice was heard hailing them from the shore, with an order rather than
a request, that they would stay their movements.

“Hilloa, the periagua!” it cried. “Haul over your head-sheet, and jam
the tiller down into the lap of that comfortable-looking old gentleman.
Come: bear a hand, my hummers! or your race-horse of a craft will get
the bit into its mouth, and run away with you.”

This summons produced a pause in the movements of the crew. After
regarding each other, in surprise and admiration, the watermen drew the
head-sheet over, put the helm a-lee, without however invading the lap
of the Alderman, and the boat became stationary, at the distance of a
few rods from the shore. While the new passenger was preparing to come
off in a yawl, those who awaited his movements had leisure to examine
his appearance, and to form their different surmises concerning his
character.

It is scarcely necessary to say, that the stranger was a son of the
ocean. He was of a firmly knit and active frame, standing exactly six
feet in his stockings. The shoulders though square were compact, the
chest full and high, the limbs round, neat, and muscular,—the whole
indicating a form in which strength and activity were apportioned with
the greatest accuracy. A small bullet head was set firmly on its broad
foundation, and it was thickly covered with a mass of brown hair that
was already a little grizzled. The face was that of a man of thirty,
and it was worthy of the frame, being manly, bold, decided, and rather
handsome; though it expressed little more than high daring, perfect
coolness, some obstinacy, and a certain degree of contempt for others,
that its owner did not always take the trouble to conceal. The color
was a rich, deep, and uniform red, such as much exposure is apt to give
to men whose complexions are, by nature, light and florid.

The dress of the stranger was quite as remarkable as his person. He
wore a short pea-jacket, cut tight and tastefully; a little, low, and
rakish cap, and full bell-mouthed trousers, all in a spotlessly white
duck; a material well adapted to the season and the climate. The first
was made without buttons, affording an apology for the use of a rich
Indian shawl, that belted his body and kept the garment tight to his
frame. Faultlessly clean linen appeared through the opening above, and
a collar, of the same material, fell over the gay bandanna, which was
thrown, with a single careless turn, around his throat. The latter was
a manufacture then little known in Europe, and its use was almost
entirely confined to seamen of the long voyage. One of its ends was
suffered to blow about in the wind, but the other was brought down with
care over the chest, where it was confined, by springing the blade of a
small knife with an ivory handle, in a manner to confine the silk to
the linen: a sort of breast-pin that is even now much used by mariners.
If we add, that light, canvas slippers, with foul-anchors worked in
worsted upon their insteps, covered his feet, we shall say all that is
necessary of his attire.

The appearance of one, of the air and dress we have just described,
excited a strong sensation among the blacks who scrubbed the stoops and
pavements. He was closely attended to the place where he hailed the
periagua, by four or five loungers, who studied his manner and
movements with the admiration that men of their class seldom fail to
bestow on those who bear about them the evidence of having passed lives
of adventure, and perhaps of hardship and daring. Beckoning to one of
these idlers to follow him, the hero of the India-shawl stepped into an
empty boat, and casting loose its fast, he sculled the light yawl
towards the craft which was awaiting his arrival. There was, in truth,
something in the reckless air, the decision, and the manly attitudes of
so fine a specimen of a seaman, that might have attracted notice from
those who were more practised in the world than the little crowd of
admirers he left behind him. With an easy play of wrist and elbow, he
caused the yawl to glide ahead like some indolent marine animal
swimming through its element, and as he stood, firm as a planted
statue, with a foot on each gunwale, there was much of that confidence
created by his steadiness, that one acquires by viewing the repeated
and successful efforts of a skilful rope-dancer. When the yawl reached
the side of the periagua, he dropped a small Spanish coin into the open
palm of the negro, and sprang on the side of the latter, with an
exertion of muscle that sent the little boat he quitted half-way back
towards the shore, leaving the frightened black to steady himself, in
his rocking tenement, in the best manner he could.

The tread and posture of the stranger, when he gained the half-deck of
the periagua, was finely nautical, and confident to audacity. He seemed
to analyze the half-maritime character of the crew and passengers, at a
glance, and to feel that sort of superiority over his companions, which
men of his profession were then a little too wont to entertain towards
those whose ambition could be bounded by terra-firma. His eye turned
upward, at the simple rig and modest sails of the periagua, while his
upper lip curled with the knowing expression of a critic. Then kicking
the fore-sheet clear of its elect, and suffering the sail to fill, he
stepped from one butter-tub to another, making a stepping-stone of the
lap of a countryman by the way, and alighted in the stern-sheets in the
midst of the party of Alderman Van Beverout, with the agility and
fearlessness of a feathered Mercury. With a coolness that did infinite
credit to his powers for commanding, his next act was to dispossess the
amazed schipper of the helm, taking the tiller into his own hands, with
as much composure as if he were the every-day occupant of the post.
When he saw that the boat was beginning to move through the water, he
found leisure to bestow some observation on his fellow-voyagers. The
first that met his bold and reckless eye was François, the domestic of
Alida.

“If it come to blow in squalls, Commodore,” observed the intruder, with
a gravity that half deceived the attentive Frenchman, while he pointed
to the bag in which the latter wore his hair, “you’ll be troubled to
carry your broad pennant. But so experienced an officer has not put to
sea without having a storm-cue in readiness for foul weather.”

The valet did not, or affected not to understand the allusion,
maintaining an air of dignified but silent superiority.

“The gentleman is in a foreign service, and does not understand an
English mariner! The worst that can come, after all, of too much
top-hamper, is to cut away, and let it drift with the scud. May I make
bold to ask, judge, if the courts have done anything, of late,
concerning the freebooters among the islands?”

“I have not the honor to bear Her Majesty’s commission,” coldly
returned Van Staats of Kinderhook, to whom this question had been
hardily put.

“The best navigator is sometimes puzzled by a hazy observation, and
many an old seaman has taken a fog-bank for solid ground. Since you are
not in the courts, sir, I wish you joy; for it is running among shoals
to be cruising there, whether as judge or suitor. One is never fairly
snug and landlocked, while in company of a lawyer, and yet the devil
himself cannot always give the sharks a good offing. A pretty sheet of
water, friends, and one as snug as rotten cables and foul winds can
render desirable, is this bay of York!”

“You are a mariner of the long voyage,” returned the Patroon, unwilling
that Alida should not believe him equal to bandying wits with the
stranger.

“Long, or short; Calcutta, or Cape Cod; dead reckoning, eye-sight, or
star-gazing, all’s one to your real dolphin. The shape of the coast
between Fundy and Horn, is as familiar to my eye, as an admirer to this
pretty young lady; and as to the other shore, I have run it down
oftener than the Commodore, here, has ever set his pennant, blow high
or blow low. A cruise like this is a Sunday in my navigation; though I
dare say, you took leave of the wife, blessed the children, overhauled
the will, and sent to ask a good word from the priest, before you came
aboard?”

“Had these ceremonies been observed, the danger would not have been
increased,” said the young Patroon, anxious to steal a glance at la
belle Barbérie, though his timidity caused him, in truth, to look the
other way. “One is never nearer danger, for being prepared to meet it.”

“True; we must all die, when the reckoning is out. Hang or drown—gibbet
or bullet clears the world of a great deal of rubbish, or the decks
would get to be so littered that the vessel could not be worked. The
last cruise is the longest of all; and honest papers, with a clean bill
of health, may help a man into port, when he is past keeping the open
sea. How now, schipper! what lies are floating about the docks this
morning? when did the last Albany-man get his tub down the river, or
whose gelding has been ridden to death in chase of a witch.”

“The devil’s babes!” muttered the Alderman; “there is no want of
roisterers to torment such innocents!”

“Have the buccaneers taken to praying, or does their trade thrive in
this heel of the war?” continued the mariner of the India-shawl,
disregarding the complaint of the burgher. “The times are getting heavy
for men of metal, as may be seen by the manner in which yon cruiser
wears out her ground-tackle, instead of trying the open sea. May I
spring every spar I carry, but I would have the boat out and give her
an airing, before to-morrow, if the Queen would condescend to put your
humble servant in charge of the craft! The man lies there, at his
anchors, as if he had a good freight of real Hollands in his hold, and
was waiting for a few bales of beaver-skins to barter for his strong
waters.”

As the stranger coolly expressed this opinion of Her Majesty’s ship
Coquette, he rolled his glance over the persons of his companions,
suffering it to rest, a moment, with a secret significance, on the
steady eye of the burgher.

“Well—” he continued, “the sloop answers for a floating vane to tell
which way the tide is running, if she does nothing better; and that
must be a great assistance, Schipper, in the navigation of one who
keeps as bright a look-out on the manner in which the world whirls
round, as a gentleman of your sagacity!”

“If the news in the creek be true,” rejoined the unoffended owner of
the periagua, “there will be other business for Captain Ludlow and the
Coquette, before many days!”

“Ah! having eaten all his meat and bread, the man will be obliged to
victual his ship anew! ’Twere a pity so active a gentleman should keep
a fast, in a brisk tide’s-way. And when his coppers are once more
filled, and the dinner is fairly eaten, what dost think will be his
next duty?”

“There is a report, among the boatmen of the South Bay, that something
was seen, yester’night, off the outer side of Long Island!”

“I’ll answer for the truth of that rumor, for having come up with the
evening flood, I saw it myself.”

“Der duyvel’s luck! and what dost take it to be?”

“The Atlantic Ocean; if you doubt my word, I appeal to this
well-ballasted old gentleman, who being a schoolmaster, is able to give
you latitude and longitude for its truth.”

“I am Alderman Van Beverout,” muttered the object of this new attack,
between his teeth, though apparently but half-disposed to notice one
who set so little bounds to his discourse.

“I beg a thousand pardons!” returned the strange seaman, with a grave
inclination of his body. “The stolidity of your worship’s countenance
deceived me. It may be, indeed, unreasonable to expect any Alderman to
know the position of the Atlantic Ocean! And yet, gentlemen, on the
honor of a man who has seen much salt water in his time, I do assure
you the sea, I speak of, is actually there. If there be anything on it,
or in it, that should not in reason be so, this worthy commander of the
periagua will let us know the rest.”

“A wood-boat from the inlet says, the ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ was lately
seen standing along the coast,” returned the ferry-man, in the tone of
one who is certain of delivering matter of general interest.

“Your true sea-dog, who runs in and out of inlets, is a man for
marvels!” coolly observed the stranger. “They know the color of the sea
at night, and are for ever steering in the wind’s eye in search of
adventures. I wonder, more of them are not kept at making almanacs!
There was a mistake, concerning a thunder-storm, in the last I bought,
and all for the want of proper science. And pray, friend, who is this
‘Skimmer of the Seas,’ that is said to be running after his needle,
like a tailor who has found a hole in his neighbor’s coat?”

“The witches may tell! I only know that such a rover there is, and that
he is here to-day, and there to-morrow. Some say, it is only a craft of
mist, that skims the top of the seas, like a sailing water-fowl, and
others think it is the sprite of a vessel that was rifled and burnt by
Kidd, in the Indian Ocean, looking for its gold and the killed. I saw
him once, myself, but the distance was so great, and his manœuvres so
unnatural, that I could hardly give a good account of his hull, or
rig.”

“This is matter that don’t get into the log every watch! Whereaway, or
in what seas, didst meet the thing?”

“’Twas off the Branch. We were fishing in thick weather, and when the
mist lifted, a little, there was a craft seen standing in-shore,
running like a race-horse; but while we got our anchor, she had made a
league of offing, on the other tack!”

“A certain proof of either her, or your, activity! But what might have
been the form and shape of your fly-away?”

“Nothing determined. To one she seemed a full-rigged and booming ship;
another took her for a Bermudian scudder, while to me she had the look
of twenty periaguas built into a single craft. It is well known,
however, that a West-Indiaman went to sea that night, and, though it is
now three years, no tidings of her, or her crew, have ever come to any
in York. I have never gone upon the banks to fish since that day, in
thick weather.”

“You have done well,” observed the stranger, “I have seen many
wonderful sights, myself, on the rolling ocean; and he, whose business
it is to lay between wind and water, like you, my friend, should never
trust himself within reach of one of those devil’s flyers I could tell
you a tale of an affair in the calm latitudes, under the burning sun,
that would be a lesson to all of over-bold curiosity! Commission and
character are not affairs for your in-shore coaster.”

“We have time to hear it,” observed the Patroon, whose attention had
been excited by the discourse, and who read in the dark eye of Alida
that she felt an interest in the expected narrative.

But the countenance of the stranger suddenly grew serious. He shook his
head, like one who had sufficient reasons for his silence; and,
relinquishing the tiller, he quite coolly obliged a gaping countryman,
in the centre of the boat, to yield his place, where he laid his own
athletic form, at full length, folded his arms on his breast, and shut
his eyes. In less than five minutes, all within hearing had audible
evidence that this extraordinary son of the ocean was in a sound sleep.




CHAPTER IV.


“—Be patient, for the prize I’ll bring thee to,
Shall hoodwink this mischance—.”

Tempest.


The air, audacity, and language of the unknown mariner, had produced a
marked sensation among the passengers of the periagua. It was plain, by
the playfulness that lurked about the coal-black eye of la belle
Barbérie, that she had been amused by his sarcasms, though the boldness
of his manner had caused her to maintain the reserve which she believed
necessary to her sex and condition. The Patroon studied the countenance
of his mistress, and, though half offended by the freedom of the
intruder, he had believed it wisest to tolerate his liberties, as the
natural excesses of a spirit that had been lately released from the
monotony of a sea-life. The repose which usually reigned in the
countenance of the Alderman had been a little troubled; but he
succeeded in concealing his discontent from any impertinent
observation. When the chief actor in the foregoing scene, therefore,
saw fit to withdraw, the usual tranquillity was restored, and his
presence appeared to be forgotten.

An ebbing tide and a freshening breeze quickly carried the periagua
past the smaller islands of the bay and brought the cruiser called the
Coquette more distinctly into view. This vessel, a ship of twenty guns,
lay abreast of the hamlet on the shores of Staten Island, which was the
destination of the ferry-boat. Here was the usual anchorage of
outward-bound ships, which awaited a change of wind; and it was here,
that vessels then, as in our times, were subject to those examinations
and delays which are imposed for the safety of the inhabitants of the
city. The Coquette was alone, however; for the arrival of a trader,
from a distant port, was an event of unfrequent occurrence, at the
commencement of the eighteenth century.

The course of the periagua brought her within fifty feet of the
sloop-of-war. As the former approached, a movement of curiosity and
interest occurred among those she contained.

“Take more room for your milk-maid,” grumbled the Alderman, observing
that the schipper was willing to gratify his passengers, by running as
near as possible to the dark sides of the cruiser. “Seas and oceans! is
not York-bay wide enough, that you must brush the dust out of the
muzzles of the guns of yon lazy ship? If the Queen knew how her money
was eaten and drunk, by the idle knaves aboard her, she would send them
all to hunt for freebooters among the islands. Look at the land, Alida,
child, and you’ll think no more of the fright the gaping dunce is
giving thee; he only wishes to show his skill in steering.”

But the niece manifested none of the terror that the uncle was willing
to ascribe to her fears. Instead of turning pale, the color deepened on
her cheeks, as the periagua came dancing along, under the lee of the
cruiser; and if her respiration became quicker than usual, it was
scarcely produced by the agitation of alarm. The near sight of the tall
masts, and of the maze of cordage that hung nearly above their heads,
however, prevented the change from being noted. A hundred curious eyes
were already peeping at them, through the ports, or over the bulwarks
of the ship, when suddenly, an officer, who wore the undress of a naval
captain of that day, sprang into the main rigging of the cruiser, and
saluted the party in the periagua, by waving his hat, hurriedly, like
one who was agreeably taken by surprise.

“A fair sky and gentle breezes to each and all!” he cried with the
hearty manner of a seaman. “I kiss my hand to the fair Alida; and the
Alderman will take a sailor’s good wishes; Mr. Van Staats, I salute
you.”

“Aye,” muttered the burgher, “your idlers have nothing better to do,
than to make words answer for deeds. A lazy war and a distant enemy
make you seamen the lords of the land, Captain Ludlow.”

Alida blushed still deeper, hesitated, and then, by a movement that was
half involuntary, she waved her handkerchief. The young Patroon arose,
and answered the salutation by a courteous bow. By this time the
ferry-boat was nearly past the ship, and the scowl was quitting the
face of the Alderman, when the mariner of the India-shawl sprang to his
feet, and, in a moment, he stood again in the centre of their party.

“A pretty sea-boat, and a neat show aloft!” he said, as his
understanding eye scanned the rigging of the royal cruiser, taking the
tiller at the same time, with all his former indifference, from the
hands of the schipper. “Her Majesty should have good service from such
a racer, and no doubt the youth in her rigging is a man to get most out
of his craft. We’ll take another observation. Draw away your
head-sheet, boy.”

The stranger had put the helm a-lee, while speaking, and by the time
the order he had given was uttered, the quick-working boat was about,
and nearly filled on the other tack. In another minute, she was again
brushing along the side of the sloop-of-war. A common complaint against
this hardy interference with the regular duty of the boat, was about to
break out of the lips of the Alderman and the schipper, when he of the
India-shawl lifted his cap, and addressed the officer in the rigging,
with all the self-possession he had manifested in the intercourse with
those nearer his person.

“Has Her Majesty need of a man in her service who has seen, in his
time, more blue water than hard ground; or is there no empty berth in
so gallant a cruiser, for one who must do a seaman’s duty, or starve?”

The descendant of the king-hating Ludlows, as the Lord Cornbury had
styled the race of the commander of the Coquette, was quite as much
surprised by the appearance of him who put this question, as he was by
the coolness with which a mariner of ordinary condition presumed to
address an officer who bore so high a commission as his own. He had,
how ever, sufficient time to recollect in whose presence he stood, ere
he replied, for the stranger had again placed the helm a-lee, and
caused the foresail to be thrown aback;—a change that made the periagua
stationary.

“The Queen will always receive a bold mariner in her pay, if he come
prepared to serve with skill and fidelity,” he said; “as a proof of
which, let a rope be thrown the periagua; we shall treat more at our
ease under Her Majesty’s pennant. I shall be proud to entertain
Alderman Van Beverout, in the meantime: and a cutter will always be at
his command, when he shall have occasion to quit us.”

“Your land-loving Aldermen find their way from a Queen’s cruiser to the
shore, more easily than a seaman of twenty years’ experience;” returned
the other, without giving the burgher time to express his thanks for
the polite offer of the other. “You have gone through the Gibraltar
passage, without doubt, noble captain, being a gentleman that has got
so fine a boat under his orders?”

“Duty has taken me into the Italian seas, more than once,” answered
Ludlow, half disposed to resent this familiarity, though too anxious to
keep the periagua near, to quarrel with him who so evidently had
produced the unexpected pleasure.

“Then you know that, though a lady might fan a ship through the straits
eastward, it needs a Levant breeze to bring her out again. Her
Majesty’s pennants are long, and when they get foul around the limbs of
a thoroughly-bred sea-dog, it passes all his art to clear the jam. It
is most worthy of remark that the better the seaman, the less his power
to cast loose the knot!”

“If the pennant be so long, it may reach farther than you wish!—But a
bold volunteer has no occasion to dread a press.”

“I fear the berth I wish is filled,” returned the other, curling his
lip: “let draw the fore-sheet, lad; we will take our departure, leaving
the fly of the pennant well under our lee. Adieu, brave Captain; when
you have need of a thorough rover, and dream of stern-chases and wet
sails, think of him who visited your ship at her lazy moorings.”

Ludlow bit his lip, and though his fine face reddened to the temples,
he met the arch glance of Alida, and laughed. But he who had so hardily
braved the resentment of a man, powerful as the commander of a royal
cruiser in a British colony, appeared to understand the hazard of his
situation. The periagua whirled round on her heel, and the next minute
it was bending to the breeze, and dashing through the little waves
towards the shore. Three boats left the cruiser at the same moment.
One, which evidently contained her captain, advanced with the usual
dignified movement of a barge landing an officer of rank, but the
others were urged ahead with all the earnestness of a hot chase.

“Unless disposed to serve the Queen, you have not done well, my friend,
to brave one of her commanders at the muzzles of his guns.” observed
the Patroon, so soon as the state of the case became too evident to
doubt of the intentions of the man-of-war’s men.

“That Captain Ludlow would gladly take some of us out of this boat, by
fair means or by foul, is a fact clear as a bright star in a cloudless
night; and, well knowing a seaman’s duty to his superiors, I shall
leave him to his choice.”

“In which case you will shortly eat Her Majesty’s bread,” pithily
returned the Alderman.

“The food is unpalatable, and I reject it—and yet here is a boat, whose
crew seem determined to make one swallow worse fare.”

The unknown mariner ceased speaking, for the situation of the periagua,
was truly getting to be a little critical. At least so it seemed to the
less-instructed landsmen, who were witnesses of this unexpected
rencontre. As the ferry-boat had drawn in with the island, the wind
hauled more through the pass which communicates with the outer bay, and
it became necessary to heave about, twice, in order to fetch to
windward of the usual landing-place. The first of these manœuvres had
been executed, and as it necessarily changed their course, the
passengers saw that the cutter to which the stranger alluded was
enabled to get within-shore of them; or nearer to the wharf, where they
ought to land, than they were themselves. Instead of suffering himself
to be led off by a pursuit, that he knew might easily be rendered
useless, the officer who commanded this boat cheered his men, and
pulled swiftly to the point of debarkation. On the other hand, a second
cutter, which had already reached the line of the periagua’s course,
lay on its oars, and awaited its approach. The unknown mariner
manifested no intention to avoid the interview. He still held the
tiller, and as effectually commanded the little vessel as if his
authority were of a more regular character. The audacity and decision
of his air and conduct, aided by the consummate mariner in which he
worked the boat, might alone have achieved this momentary usurpation,
had not the general feeling against impressment been so much in his
favor.

“The devil’s fangs!” grumbled the schipper. If you should keep the
Milk-Maid away, we shall lose a little in distance, though I think the
man-of-war’s men will be puzzled to catch her, with a flowing sheet!”

“The Queen has sent a message by the gentleman,” the mariner rejoined:
“it would be unmannerly to refuse to hear it.”

“Heave-to, the periagua!” shouted the young officer, in the cutter. “In
Her Majesty’s name, I command you, obey.”

“God bless the royal lady!” returned he of the foul anchors and gay
shawl, while the swift ferry-boat continued to dash ahead. “We owe her
duty, and are glad to see so proper a gentleman employed in her
behalf.”

By this time the boats were fifty feet asunder. No sooner was there
room, than the periagua once more flew round, and commenced anew its
course, dashing in again towards the shore. It was necessary, however,
to venture within an oar’s-length of the cutter, or to keep away,—a
loss of ground to which he who controlled her movements showed no
disposition to submit. The officer arose, and, as the periagua drew
near, it was evident his hand held a pistol, though he seemed reluctant
to exhibit the weapon. The mariner stepped aside, in a manner to offer
a full view of all in his group, as he sarcastically observed—

“Choose your object, sir; in such a party, a man of sentiment may have
a preference.”

The young man colored, as much with shame at, the degrading duty he had
been commissioned to perform, as with vexation at his failure.
Recovering his self-composure, however, he lifted his hat to la belle
Barbérie, and the periagua dashed on, in triumph. Still the leading
cutter was near the shore, where it soon arrived, the crew lying on
their oars at the end of the wharf, in evident expectation of the
arrival of the ferry-boat. At this sight, the schipper shook his head,
and looked up in the bold face of his passenger, in a manner to betray
how much his mind misgave the result. But the tail mariner maintained
his coolness, and began to make merry allusions to the service which he
had braved with so much temerity, and from which no one believed he was
yet likely to escape. By the former manœuvres, the periagua had gained
a position well to windward of the wharf; and she was now steered close
upon the wind, directly for the shore. Against the consequences of a
perseverance in this course, however, the schipper saw fit to
remonstrate.

“Shipwrecks and rocky bottoms!” exclaimed the alarmed waterman. “A
Holland galliot would go to pieces, if you should run her in among
those stepping-stones, with this breeze! No honest boatman loves to see
a man stowed in a cruiser’s hold, like a thief caged in his prison; but
when it comes to breaking the nose of the Milk-Maid, it is asking too
much of her owner, to stand by and look on.”

“There shall not be a dimple of her lovely countenance deranged,”
answered his cool passenger. “Now, lower away your sails, and we’ll run
along the shore, down to yon wharf. ’Twould be an ungallant act to
treat the dairy-girl with so little ceremony, gentlemen, after the
lively foot and quick evolutions she has shown in our behalf. The best
dancer in the island could not have better played her part, though
jigging under the music of a three-stringed fiddle!”

By this time the sails were lowered, and the periagua was gliding down
towards the place of landing, running always at the distance of some
fifty feet from the shore.

“Every craft has its allotted time, like a mortal,” continued the
inexplicable mariner of the India-shawl. “If she is to die a sudden
death, there is your beam-end and stern-way, which takes her into the
grave without funeral service, or parish prayers; your dropsy is being
water-logged; gout and rheumatism kill like a broken back and loose
joints; indigestion is a shifting cargo, with guns adrift; the gallows
is a bottomry-bond, with lawyers’ fees; while fire, drowning, death by
religious melancholy, and suicide, are a careless gunner, sunken rocks,
false lights, and a lubberly captain.”

Ere any were apprized of his intention, this singular being then sprang
from the boat on the cap of a little rock, over which the waves were
washing, whence he bounded, from stone to stone, by vigorous efforts,
till he fairly leaped to land. In another minute, he was lost to view,
among the dwellings of the hamlet.

The arrival of the periagua, which immediately after reached the wharf,
the disappointment of the cutter’s crew, and the return of both the
boats to their ship, succeeded as matters of course.




CHAPTER V.


_Oliv._ “Did he write this?”
_Clo._ “Aye, Madam.”

What You Will.


If we say that Alida de Barbérie did not cast a glance behind her, as
the party quitted the wharf, in order to see whether the boat that
contained the commander of the cruiser followed the example of the
others, we shall probably portray the maiden as one that was less
subject to the influence of coquetry than the truth would justify. To
the great discontent of the Alderman, whatever might have been the
feelings of his niece, on the occasion, the barge continued to approach
the shore, in a manner which showed that the young seaman betrayed no
visible interest in the result of the chase.

The heights of Staten Island, a century ago, were covered, much as they
are at present, with a growth of dwarf-trees. Foot-paths led among this
meagre vegetation, in divers directions; and as the hamlet at the
Quarantine-Ground was the point whence they all diverged, it required a
practised guide to thread their mazes, without a loss of both time and
distance. It would seem, however, that the worthy burgher was fully
equal to the office; for, moving with more than his usual agility, he
soon led his companions into the wood, and, by frequently altering his
course, so completely confounded their sense of the relative bearings
of places, that it is not probable one of them all could very readily
have extricated himself from the labyrinth.

“Clouds and shady bowers!” exclaimed Myndert, when he had achieved, to
his own satisfaction, this evasion of the pursuit he wished to avoid;
“little oaks and green pines are pleasant on a June morning. You shall
have mountain air and a sea-breeze Patroon, to quicken the appetite at
the Lust in Rust. If Alicia will speak, the girl can say that a
mouthful of the elixir is better for a rosy cheek, than all the
concoctions and washes that were ever invented to give a man a
heart-ache.”

“If the place be as much changed as the road that leads to it,”
returned la belle Barbérie, glancing her dark eye, in vain, in the
direction of the bay they had quitted, “I should scarcely venture an
opinion on a subject of which I am obliged to confess utter ignorance.”

“Ah, woman is nought but vanities! To see and to be seen, is the
delight of the sex. Though we are a thousand times more comfortable in
this wood than we should be in walking along the water-side, why, the
sea-gulls and snipes lose the benefit of our company! The salt water,
and all who live on it, are to be avoided by a wise man, Mr. Van
Staats, except as they both serve to cheapen freight and to render
trade brisk. You’ll thank me for this care, niece of mine, when you
reach the bluff, cool as a package of furs free from moth, and fresh
and beautiful as a Holland tulip, with the dew on it.”

“To resemble the latter, one might consent to walk blindfold, dearest
uncle; and so we dismiss the subject. François, fais moi le plaisir de
porter ce petit livre; malgré la fraîcheur de la fôret, j’ai besoin de
m’évanter.”

The valet took the book, with an empressement that defeated the more
tardy politeness of the Patroon; and when he saw, by the vexed eye and
flushed cheek of his young mistress, that she was incommoded rather by
an internal than by the external heat, he whispered considerately,—

“Que ma chère Mademoiselle Alide ne se fâche pas! Elle ne manquerait
jamais d’admirateurs, dans un désert. Ah! si Mam’selle allait voir la
patrie de ses ancêtres!—”

“’Merci bien, mon cher; gardez les feuilles, fortement fermées. Il y a
des papiers dedans.”

“Monsieur François,” said the Alderman, separating his niece, with
little ceremony, from her nearly parental attendant, by the
interposition of his own bulky person, and motioning for the others to
proceed, “a word with thee in confidence. I have noted, in the course
of a busy and I hope a profitable life, that a faithful servant is an
honest counsellor. Next to Holland and England, both of which are great
commercial nations, and the Indies, which are necessary to these
colonies, together with a natural preference for the land in which I
was born, I have always been of opinion, that France is a very good
sort of a country. I think, Mr. Francis, that dislike to the seas has
kept you from returning thither, since the decease of my late
brother-in-law?”

“Wid like for Mam’selle Alide, Monsieur, avec votre permission.”

“Your affection for my niece, honest François, is not to be doubted. It
is as certain as the payment of a good draft, by Crommeline, Van
Stopper, and Van Gelt, of Amsterdam. Ah! old valet! she is fresh and
blooming as a rose, and a girl of excellent qualities! ’Tis a pity that
she is a little opinionated; a defect that she doubtless inherits from
her Norman ancestors; since all of my family have ever been remarkable
for listening to reason. The Normans were an obstinate race, as witness
the siege of Rochelle, by which oversight real estate in that city must
have lost much in value!”

“Mille excuses, Monsieur Bevre’——; more beautiful as de rose, and no
opiniâtre du tout. Mon Dieu! pour sa qualité, c’est une famille très
ancienne.”

“That was a weak point with my brother Barbérie, and, after all, it did
not add a cipher to the sum-total of the assets. The best blood, Mr.
François, is that which has been best fed. The line of Hugh Capet
himself would fail, without the butcher; and the butcher would
certainly fail, without customers that can pay. François, thou art a
man who understands the value of a sure footing in the world; would it
not be a thousand pities, that such a girl as Alida should throw
herself away on one whose best foundation is no better than a rolling
ship?”

“Certainement, Monsieur; Mam’selle be too good to roll in de ship.”

“Obliged to follow a husband, up and down; among freebooters and
dishonest traders; in fair weather and foul; hot and cold; wet and dry;
bilge-water and salt-water; cramps and nausea; salt-junk and no junk;
gales and calms,—and all for a hasty judgment formed in sanguine
youth.”

The face of the valet had responded to the Alderman’s enumeration of
the evils that would attend so ill-judged a step in his niece, as
faithfully as if each muscle had been a mirror, to reflect the
contortions of one suffering under the malady of the sea.

“Parbleu, c’est horrible cette mer!” he ejaculated; when the other had
done. “It is grand malheur, dere should be watair but for drink, and
for la propreté, avec fosse to keep de carp round le château. Mais,
Mam’selle be no haste jugement, and she shall have mari on la terre
solide.”

“’Twould be better, that the estate of my brother-in-law should be kept
in sight, judicious François, than to be sent adrift on the high seas.”

“Dere vas marin dans la famille de Barbérie nevair.”

“Bonds and balances! if the savings of one I could name, frugal
François, were added in current coin the sum-total would sink a common
ship. You know it is my intention to remember Alida, in settling
accounts with the world.”

“If Monsieur de Barbérie vas ’live, Monsieur Alderman, he should say
des choses convenables; mais, malheureusement, mon cher, maître est
mort; and, sair, I shall be bold to remercier pour lui, et pour toute
sa famille.”

“Women are perverse, and sometimes they have pleasure in doing the very
thing they are desired not to do.”

“Ma foi, oui!”

“Prudent men should manage them with soft words and rich gifts; with
these, they become orderly as a pair of well-broke geldings.”

“Monsieur know,” said the old valet, rubbing his hands, and laughing
with the subdued voice of a well-bred domestic, though he could not
conceal a jocular wink; “pourtant il est garçon! Le cadeau be good for
de demoiselles, and bettair as for de dames.”

“Wedlock and blinkers! it is we gâssons, as you call us, who ought to
know. Your hen-pecked husband has no time to generalize among the sex,
in order to understand the real quality of the article. Now, here is
Van Staats of Kinderhook, faithful François; what think you of such a
youth for a husband for Alida?”

“Pourtant, Mam’selle like de vivacité; Monsieur le Patroon be nevair
trop vif.”

“The more likely to be sure—Hist, I hear a footstep. We are
followed—chased, perhaps, I should say, to speak in the language of
these sea-gentry. Now is the time to show this Captain Ludlow, how a
Frenchman can wind him round his finger, on terra-firma. Loiter in the
rear, and draw our navigator on a wrong course. When he has run into a
fog, come yourself, with all speed, to the oak on the bluff. There we
shall await you.”

Flattered by this confidence, and really persuaded that he was
furthering the happiness of her he served, the old valet nodded, in
reply to the Alderman’s wink and chuckle, and immediately relaxed his
speed. The former pushed ahead; and, in a minute, he and those who
followed had turned short to the left, and were out of sight.

Though faithfully and even affectionately attached to Alida, her
servant had many of the qualifications of an European domestic. Trained
in all the ruses of his profession, he was of that school which
believes civilization is to be measured by artifice; and success lost
some of its value, when it had been effected by the vulgar machinery of
truth and common sense. No wonder then the retainer entered into the
views of the Alderman, with more than a usual relish for the duty. He
heard the cracking of the dried twigs beneath the footstep of him who
followed; and in order that there might be no chance of missing the
desired interview, the valet began to hum a French air, in so loud a
key, as to be certain the sounds would reach any ear that was nigh. The
twigs snapped more rapidly, the footsteps seemed nearer, and then the
hero of the India-shawl sprang to the side of the expecting François.

The disappointment seemed mutual, and on the part of the domestic it
entirely disconcerted all his pre-arranged schemes for misleading the
commander of the Coquette. Not so with the bold mariner. So far from
his self-possession being disturbed, it would have been no easy matter
to restrain his audacity ever in situations far more trying than any in
which he has yet been presented to the reader.

“What cheer, in thy woodland cruise, Monsieur Broad-Pennant?” he said,
with infinite coolness, the instant his steady glance had ascertained
they were alone. “This is safer navigation for an officer of thy
draught of water, than running about the bay, in a periagua. What may
be the longitude, and where-a-way did you part company from the
consorts?”

“Sair, I valk in de vood for de plaisir, and I go on de bay for
de—parbleu, non! ’tis to follow ma jeune maîtresse I go on de bay; and,
sair, I wish dey who do love de bay and de sea, would not come into de
vood, du tout.”

“Well spoken, and with ample spirit;—what, a student too! one in a wood
should glean something from his labors. Is it the art of furling a main
cue, that is taught in this pretty volume?”

As the mariner put his question, he very deliberately took the book
from François, who, instead of resenting the liberty, rather offered
the volume, in exultation.

“No, sair, it is not how to furl la queue, but how to touch de soul;
not de art to haul over de calm, but—oui, c’est plein de connoissance
et d’esprit! Ah! ha! you know de Cid! le grand homme! l’homme de génie!
If you read, Monsieur Marin, you shall see la vraie poésie! Not de big
book and no single rhyme—Sair, I do not vish to say vat is penible,
mais it is not one book widout rhyme; it was not écrit on de sea. Le
diable! que le vrai génie, et les nobles sentiments, se trouvent dans
ce livre, la!”

“Aye, I see it is a log-book, for every man to note his mind in. I
return you Master Cid, with his fine sentiments, in the bargain. Great
as was his genius, it would seem he was not the man to write all that I
find between the leaves.”

“He not write him all! Yes, sair, he shall write him six time more dan
all, if la France a besoin. Que l’envie de ces Anglais se découvre
quand on parle des beaux génies de la France!”

“I will only say, if the gentleman wrote the whole that is in the book,
and it is as fine as you would make a plain seafaring man believe, he
did wrong not to print it.”

“Print!” echoed François, opening his eyes, and the volume, by a common
impulse, “Imprimé! ha! here is papier of Mam’selle Alide, assurément.”

“Take better heed of it then,” interrupted the seaman of the shawl. “As
for your Cid, to me it is an useless volume, since it teaches neither
the latitude of a shoal, nor the shape of a coast.”

“Sair, it teach de morale; de rock of de passion et les grands
mouvements de l’ame! Oui, Sair; it teach all, un Monsieur vish to know.
Tout le monde read him in la France; en province, comme en ville. If sa
Majesté, le Grand Louis, be not so mal avisé, as to chasser Messieurs
les Huguenots from his royaume, I shall go to Paris, to hear le Cid,
moi-même!”

“A good journey to you, Monsieur Cue. We may meet on the road, until
which time I take my departure. The day may come, when we shall
converse with a rolling sea beneath us. Till then, brave cheer!”

“Adieu, Monsieur,” returned François, bowing with a politeness that had
become too familiar to be forgotten. “If we do not meet but in de sea,
we shall not meet, nevair. Ah, ha, ha! Monsieur le Marin n’aime pas à
entendre parler de la gloire de la France! Je voudrais bien savoir lire
ce f—e Shak-a-spear, pour voir, combien l’immortel Corneille lui est
supérieur. Ma foi, oui; Monsieur Pierre Corneille est vraiment un homme
illustre!”

The faithful, self-complacent, and aged valet then pursued his way
towards the large oak on the bluff; for as he ceased speaking, the
mariner of the gay sash had turned deeper into the woods, and left him
alone. Proud of the manner, in which he had met the audacity of the
stranger, prouder still of the reputation of the author, whose fame had
been known in France long before his own departure from Europe, and not
a little consoled with the reflection that he had contributed his mite
to support the honor of his distant and well-beloved country, the
honest François pressed the volume affectionately beneath his arm, and
hastened on after his mistress.

Though the position of Staten Island and its surrounding bays is so
familiar to the Manhattanese an explanation of the localities may be
agreeable to readers who dwell at a distance from the scene of the
tale.

It has already been said, that the principal communication between the
bays of Raritan and York, is called the Narrows. At the mouth of this
passage, the land on Staten Island rises in a high bluff, which
overhangs the water, not unlike the tale-fraught cape of Misenum. From
this elevated point, the eye not only commands a view of both estuaries
and the city, but it looks far beyond the point of Sandy-Hook, into the
open sea. It is here that, in our own days, ships are first noted in
the offing, and whence the news of the approach of his vessel is
communicated to the expecting merchant by means of the telegraph. In
the early part of the last century, arrivals were too rare to support
such an establishment. The bluff was therefore little resorted to,
except by some occasional admirer of scenery, or by those countrymen
whom business, at long intervals, drew to the spot. It had been early
cleared of its wood, and the oak already mentioned was the only tree
standing in a space of some ten or a dozen acres.

It has been seen that Alderman Van Beverout had appointed this solitary
oak, as the place of rendezvous with François. Thither then he took his
way on parting from the valet, and to this spot we must now transfer
the scene. A rude seat had been placed around the root of the tree, and
here the whole party, with the exception of the absent domestic, were
soon seated. In a minute, however, they were joined by the exulting
François, who immediately related the particulars of his recent
interview with the stranger.

“A clear conscience, with cordial friends, and a fair balance-sheet,
may keep a man warm in January, even in this climate,” said the
Alderman, willing to turn the discourse; “but what with rebellious
blacks, hot streets, and spoiling furs, it passeth mortal powers to
keep cool in yonder overgrown and crowded town. Thou seest, Patroon,
the spot of white on the opposite side of the bay.—Breezes and fanning!
that is the Lust in Rust, where cordial enters the mouth at every
breath, and where a man has room to cast up the sum-total of his
thoughts, any hour in the twenty-four.”

“We seem quite as effectually alone on this hill, with the advantage of
having a city in the view,” remarked Alida, with an emphasis that
showed she meant even more than she expressed.

“We are by ourselves, niece of mine,” returned the Alderman, rubbing
his hands as if he secretly felicitated himself that the fact were so.
“That truth cannot be denied, and good company we are, though the
opinion comes from one who is not a cipher in the party. Modesty is a
poor man’s wealth, but as we grow substantial in the world, Patroon,
one can afford to begin to speak truth of himself, as well as of his
neighbor.”

“In which case, little, but good, will be uttered from the mouth of
Alderman Van Beverout,” said Ludlow, appearing so suddenly from behind
the root of the tree, as effectually to shut the mouth of the burgher.
“My desire to offer the services of the ship to your party, has led to
this abrupt intrusion, and I hope will obtain its pardon.”

“The power to forgive is a prerogative of the Governor, who represents
the Queen,” drily returned the Alderman. “If Her Majesty has so little
employment for her cruisers, that their captains can dispose of them,
in behalf of old men and young maidens—why, happy is the age, and
commerce should flourish!”

“If the two duties are compatible, the greater the reason why a
commander should felicitate himself that he may be of service to so
many. You are bound to the Jersey Highlands, Mr. Van Beverout?”

“I am bound to a comfortable and very private abode, called the Lust in
Rust, Captain Cornelius Van Cuyler Ludlow.”

The young man bit his lip, and his healthful but brown cheek flushed a
deeper red than common, though he preserved his composure.

“And I am bound to sea,” he soon said. “The wind is getting fresh, and
your boat, which I see, at this moment, standing in for the islands,
will find it difficult to make way against its force. The Coquette’s
anchor will be aweigh, in twenty minutes; and I shall find two hours of
an ebbing tide, and a top-gallant breeze, but too short a time for the
pleasure of entertaining such guests. I am certain that the fears of la
Belle will favor my wishes, whichsoever side of the question her
inclinations may happen to be.”

“And they are with her uncle;” quickly returned Alida. “I am so little
of a sailor, that prudence, if not pusillanimity, teaches me to depend
on the experience of older heads.”

“Older I may not pretend to be,” said Ludlow, coloring; “but Mr. Van
Beverout will see no pretension in believing myself as good a judge of
wind and tide, as even he himself can be.”

“You are said to command Her Majesty’s sloop with skill, Captain
Ludlow, and it is creditable to the colony, that it has produced so
good an officer; though I believe your grandfather came into the
province, so lately as on the restoration of King Charles the Second?”

“We cannot claim descent from the United Provinces, Alderman Van
Beverout, on the paternal side, but whatever may have been the
political opinions of my grandfather, those of his descendant have
never been questioned. Let me entreat the fair Alida to take counsel of
the apprehension I am sure she feels, and to persuade her uncle that
the Coquette is safer than his periagua.”

“It is said to be easier to enter than to quit your ship,” returned the
laughing Alida. “By certain symptoms that attended our passage to the
island, your Coquette, like others, is fond of conquest. One is not
safe beneath so malign an influence.”

“This is a reputation given by our enemies. I had hoped for a different
answer from la belle Barbérie.”

The close of the sentence was uttered with an emphasis that caused the
blood to quicken its movement in the veins of the maiden. It was
fortunate that neither of their companions was very observant, or else
suspicions might have been excited, that a better intelligence existed
between the young sailor and the heiress, than would have comported
with their wishes and intentions.

“I had hoped for a different answer from la belle Barbérie,” repeated
Ludlow, in a lower voice, but with even a still more emphatic tone than
before.

There was evidently a struggle in the mind of Alida.—She overcame it,
before her confusion could be noted; and, turning to the valet, she
said, with the composure and grace that became a gentlewoman—

“Rends moi le livre, François.”

“Le voici—ah! ma chère Mam’selle Alide, que ce Monsieur le marin se
fâchait à cause de la gloire, et des beaux vers de notre illustre M.
Pierre Corneille!”

“Here is an English sailor, that I am sure will not deny the merit of
an admired writer, even though he come of a nation that is commonly
thought hostile, François,” returned his mistress, smiling “Captain
Ludlow, it is now a month since I am your debtor, by promise, for a
volume of Corneille, and I here acquit myself of the obligation. When
you have perused the contents of this book, with the attention they
deserve, I may hope——”

“For a speedy opinion of their merits.”

“I was about to say, to receive the volume again, as it is a legacy
from my father,” steadily rejoined Alida.

“Legacies and foreign tongues!” muttered the Alderman. “One is well
enough; but for the other, English and Dutch are all that the wisest
man need learn. I never could understand an account of protit and loss
in any other tongue, Patroon; and even a favorable balance never
appears so great as it is, unless the account be rendered in one or the
other of these rational dialects. Captain Ludlow, we thank you for your
politeness, but here is one of my fellows to tell us that my own
periagua is arrived; and, wishing you a happy and a long cruise, as we
say of lives, I bid you, adieu.”

The young seaman returned the salutations of the party, with a better
grace than his previous solicitude to persuade them to enter his ship,
might have given reason to expect. He even saw them descend the hill,
towards the water of the outer bay, with entire composure; and it was
only after they had entered a thicket which hid them from view, that he
permitted his feelings to have sway.

Then indeed he drew the volume from his pocket and opened its leaves
with an eagerness he could no longer control. It seemed as if he
expected to read more, in the pages, than the author had caused to be
placed there; but when his eye caught sight of a sealed billet, the
legacy of M. de Barbérie fell at his feet; and the paper was torn
asunder, with all the anxiety of one who expected to find in its
contents a decree of life or death.

Amazement was clearly the first emotion of the young seaman. He read
and re-read; struck his brow with his hand; gazed about him at the land
and at the water; re-perused the note; examined the superscription,
which was simply to ‘Capt. Ludlow, of Her Majesty’s ship Coquette:’
smiled; muttered between his teeth; seemed vexed, and yet delighted;
read the note again, word by word, and finally thrust it into his
pocket, with the air of a man who had found reason for both regret and
satisfaction in its contents.




CHAPTER VI.


“—What, has this thing appeared again, to-night?”

Hamlet.


“The face of man is the log-book of his thoughts, and Captain Ludlow’s
seems agreeable,” observed a voice, that came from one, who was not far
from the commander of the Coquette, while the latter was still enacting
the pantomime described in the close of the preceding chapter.

“Who speaks of thoughts and log-books or who dares to pry into my
movements?” demanded the young sailor, fiercely.

“One who has trifled with the first and scribbled in the last too
often, not to know how to meet a squall, whether it be seen in the
clouds or only on the face of man. As for looking into your movements,
Captain Ludlow, I have watched too many big ships in my time, to turn
aside at each light cruiser that happens to cross my course. I hope,
sir, you have an answer; every hail has its right to a civil reply.”

Ludlow could scarce believe his senses, when, on turning to face the
intruder, he saw himself confronted by the audacious eye and calm mien
of the mariner who had, once before that morning, braved his
resentment. Curbing his indignation, however, the young man endeavored
to emulate the coolness which, notwithstanding his inferior condition,
imparted to the air of the other something that was imposing, if it
were not absolutely authoritative. Perhaps the singularity of the
adventure aided in effecting an object, that was a little difficult of
attainment in one accustomed to receive so much habitual deference from
most of those who made the sea their home. Swallowing his resentment,
the young commander answered—

“He that knows how to face his enemies with spirit, may be accounted
sufficiently bold; but he who braves the anger of his friends, is
foolhardy.”

“And he who does neither, is wiser than both,” rejoined the reckless
hero of the sash. “Captain Ludlow, we meet on equal terms, at present,
and the parley may be managed with some freedom.”

“Equality is a word that ill applies to men of stations so different.”

“Of our stations and duties it is not necessary to speak. I hope that,
when the proper time shall come, both may be found ready to be at the
first, and equal to discharge the last. But Captain Ludlow, backed by
the broadside of the Coquette and the cross-fire of his marines, is not
Captain Ludlow alone, on a sea bluff, with a crutch no better than his
own arm, and a stout heart. As the first, he is like a spar supported
by backstays and forestays, braces and standing rigging; while, as the
latter, he is the stick, which keeps its head aloft by the soundness
and quality of its timber. You have the appearance of one who can go
alone, even though it blew heavier than at present, if one may judge of
the force of the breeze, by the manner it presses on the sails of
yonder boat in the bay.”

“Yonder boat begins to feel the wind, truly!” said Ludlow, suddenly
losing all other interest in the appearance of the periagua which held
Alida and her friends, and which, at that instant, shot out from
beneath the cover of the hill into the broad opening of Raritan bay.
“What think you of the time, my friend? a man of your years should
speak with knowledge of the weather.”

“Women and winds are only understood, when fairly in motion,” returned
he of the sash; “now, any mortal who consulted comfort and the skies,
would have preferred a passage in Her Majesty’s ship Coquette, to one
in yonder dancing periagua; and yet the fluttering silk we see, in the
boat, tells us there is one who has thought otherwise.”

“You are a man of singular intelligence,” cried Ludlow, again facing
the intruder; “as well as one of singular———”

“Effrontery,” rejoined the other, observing that the commander
hesitated. Let the commissioned officer of the Queen speak boldly; I am
no better than a top-man, or at most a quarter-master.”

“I wish to say nothing disagreeable, but I find your knowledge of my
offer to convey the lady and her friends to the residence of Alderman
Van Beverout, a little surprising.”

“And I see nothing to wonder at, in your offer to convey the lady
anywhere, though the liberality to her friends is not an act of so
clear explanation. When young men speak from the heart, their words are
not uttered in whispers.”

“Which would imply that you overheard our conversation. I believe it,
for here is cover at hand to conceal you. It may be, sir, that you have
eyes, as well as ears.”

“I confess to have seen your countenance, changing sides, like a member
of parliament turning to a new leaf in his conscience, at the
Minister’s signal while you overhauled a bit of paper——”

“Whose contents you could not know!”

“Whose contents I took to be some private orders, given by a lady who
is too much of a coquette herself, to accept your offer to sail in a
vessel of the same name.”

“By Heavens, the fellow has reason in his inexplicable impudence!”
muttered Ludlow, pacing backward and forward beneath the shadow of the
tree. “The language and the acts of the girl are in contradiction; and
I am a fool to be trifled with, like a midshipman fresh broken loose
from his mother’s apron-string. Harkee, Master-a-a—You’ve a name I
suppose, like any other straggler on the ocean.”

“Yes. When the hail is loud enough to be heard, I answer to the call of
Thomas Tiller.”

“Well then, Master Tiller, so clever a seaman should be glad to serve
the Queen.”

“Were it not for duty to another, whose claim comes first, nothing
could be more agreeable than to lend a lady in distress a helping
hand.”

“And who is he, who may prefer a claim to your services, in competition
with the majesty of these realms?” demanded Ludlow, with a little of
the pretension that, when speaking of its privileges, is apt to
distinguish the manner of one who has been accustomed to regard royalty
with reverence.

“Myself. When our affairs call us the same way no one can be readier
than I, to keep Her Majesty’s company; but——”

“This is presuming too far, on the trifling of a moment,” interrupted
Ludlow; “you know, sirrah, that I have the right to command your
services, without entering into a parley for them; and which,
notwithstanding your gay appearance, may, after all, be little worth
the trouble.”

“There is no need to push matters to extremity, between us, Captain
Ludlow,” resumed the stranger who had appeared to muse for a moment,
“If I have baffled your pursuit once to-day, it was perhaps to make my
merit in entering the ship freely, less undeniable. We are here alone,
and your honor will account it no boasting, if I say that a man, well
limbed and active, who stands six feet between plank and earline, is
not likely to be led against his will, like a yawl towing at the stern
of a four-and-forty. I am a seaman, sir; and though the ocean is my
home, I never venture on it without sufficient footing. Look abroad
from this hill, and say whether there is any craft in view, except the
cruiser of the Queen, which would be likely to suit the taste of a
mariner of the long voyage?”

“By which you would have me understand, you are here in quest of
service?”

“Nothing less; and though the opinion of a fore-mast Jack may be of
little value, you will not be displeased to hear, that I might look
further without finding a prettier sea-boat, or a swifter, than the one
which sails under your own orders. A seaman of your station, Captain
Ludlow, is not now to learn, that a man speaks differently, while his
name is his own, and after he has given it away to the crown; and
therefore I hope my present freedom will not be long remembered.”

“I have met men of your humor before, my friend, and I have not now to
learn, that a thorough man-of-war’s man is as impudent on shore, as he
is obedient afloat.—Is that a sail, in the offing, or is it the wing of
a sea-fowl, glittering in the sun?”

“It may be either,” observed the audacious mariner, turning his eye
leisurely towards the open ocean, “for we have a wide look-out from
this windy bluff. Here are gulls sporting above the waves, that turn
their feathers towards the light.”

“Look more seaward. That spot of shining white should be the canvas of
some craft, hovering in the offing!”

“Nothing more probable, in so light a breeze. Your coasters are in and
out, like water-rats on a wharf, at any hour of the twenty-four—and yet
to me it seems the comb of a breaking sea.”

“’Tis snow-white duck; such as your swift rover wears on his loftier
spars!”

“A duck that is flown,” returned the stranger drily, “for it is no
longer to be seen. These fly-aways, Captain Ludlow, give us seamen many
sleepless nights and idle chases. I was once running down the coast of
Italy, between the island of Corsica and the main, when one of these
delusions beset the crew, in a manner that hath taught me to put little
faith in eyes, unless backed by a clear horizon and a cool head.”

“I’ll hear the circumstance,” said Ludlow, withdrawing his gaze from
the distant ocean, like one who was satisfied his senses had been
deceived. “What of this marvel of the Italian seas?”

“A marvel truly, as your honor will confess, when I read you the
affair, much in the words I had it logged, for the knowledge of all
concerned. It was the last hour of the second dog-watch, on
Easter-Sunday, with the wind here at south-east, easterly. A light air
filled the upper canvas, and just gave us command of the ship. The
mountains of Corsica, with Monte Christo and Elba, had all been sunk
some hours, and we were on the yards, keeping a look-out for a
land-fall on the Roman coast. A low, thick bank of drifting fog lay
along the sea, in-shore of us, which all believed to be the sweat of
the land, and thought no more of; though none wished to enter it, for
that is a coast where foul airs rise, and through which the gulls and
land-birds refuse to fly. Well, here we lay, the mainsail in the
brails, the top-sails beating the mast-heads, like a maiden fanning
herself when she sees her lover, and nothing full but the upper duck,
with the sun fairly below the water in the western board. I was then
young, and quick of eye, as of foot, and therefore among the first to
see the sight!”

“Which was——?” said Ludlow, interested in spite of his assumed air of
indifference.

“Why, here just above the bank of foul air, that ever rests on that
coast, there was seen an object, that looked like ribs of bright light,
as if a thousand stars had quitted their usual berths in the heaven, to
warn us off the land, by a supernatural beacon. The sight was in itself
altogether out of nature and surprising. As the night thickened, it
grew brighter and more glowing, as if ’twere meant in earnest to warn
us from the coast. But when the word was passed to send the glasses
aloft, there was seen a glittering cross on high, and far above the
spars on which earthly ships carry their private signals.”

“This was indeed extraordinary! and what did you, to come at the
character of the heavenly symbol?”

“We wore off shore, and left it a clear berth for bolder mariners. Glad
enough was I to see, with the morning sun, the snowy hills of Corsica,
again!”

“And the appearance of that object was never explained?”

“Nor ever will be. I have since spoke with the mariners of that sea
concerning the sight, but never found any who could pretend to have
seen it. There was indeed one bold enough to say, there is a church,
far inland, of height and magnitude sufficient to be seen some leagues
at sea, and that, favored by our position and the mists that hung above
the low grounds, we had seen its upper works, looming above the fogs,
and lighted for some brilliant ceremony; but we were all too old in
seaman’s experience to credit so wild a tale. I know not but a church
may loom, as well as a hill or a ship; but he, who pretends to say,
that the hands of man can thus pile stones among the clouds, should be
certain of believers, ere he pushes the tale too far.”

“Your narrative is extraordinary, and the marvel should have been
looked into closer. It may truly have been a church, for there stands
an edifice at Rome, which towers to treble the height of a cruiser’s
masts.”

“Having rarely troubled churches, I know not why a church should
trouble me,” said the mariner of the sash, while he turned his back on
the ocean, as if indisposed to regard the waste of water longer. “It is
now twelve years since that sight was seen, and though a seaman of many
voyages, my eyes have not looked upon the Roman coast, from that hour
to this. Will your honor lead the way from the bluff, as becomes your
rank?”

“Your tale of the burning cross and looming church, Master Tiller, had
almost caused me to forget to watch the movements of yon periagua,”
returned Ludlow, who still continued to face the bay. “That obstinate
old Dutchman——I say, sir, that Mr. Alderman Van Beverout has greater
confidence in this description of craft than I feel myself. I like not
the looks of yonder cloud, which is rising from out the mouth of
Raritan; and here, seaward, we have a gloomy horizon.—By Heaven! there
is a sail playing in the offing or my eye hath lost its use and
judgment.”

“Your honor sees the wing of the sporting gull, again; it had been nigh
to deceive my sight, which would be to cheat the look-out of a man that
has the advantage of some ten or fifteen years’ more practice in marine
appearances. I remember once, when beating in among the islands of the
China seas, with the trades here at south-east——”

“Enough of your marvels, friend; the church is as much as I can
swallow, in one morning—It may have been a gull! for I confess the
object small; yet it had the steadiness and size of a distant sail!
There is some reason to expect one on our coast, for whom a bright and
seaman’s watch must be had.”

“This may then leave me a choice of ships,” rejoined Tiller. “I thank
your honor for having spoken, before I had given myself away to the
Queen; who is a lady that is much more apt to receive gifts of this
nature, than to return them.”

“If your respect aboard shall bear any proportion to your hardihood on
shore, you may be accounted a model of civility! But a mariner of your
pretension should have some regard to the character of the vessel in
which he takes service.”

“That of which your honor spoke, is then a buccaneer?”

“If not a buccaneer, one but little better. A lawless trader, under the
most favorable view; and there are those who think that he, who has
gone so far, has not stopt short of the end. But the reputation of the
‘Skimmer of the Seas’ must be known to one who has navigated the ocean,
long as you.”

“You will overlook the curiosity of a seafaring man, in a matter of his
profession,” returned the mariner of the sash, with strong and evident
interest in his manner. “I am lately from a distant ocean, and though
many tales of the buccaneers of the islands have been narrated, I do
not remember to have heard of that rover, before his name came into the
discourse between me and the schipper of the boat, that plies between
this landing and the city. I am not, altogether, what I seem, Captain
Ludlow; and when further acquaintance and hard service shall have
brought me more before the eyes of my commander, he may not repent
having induced a thorough seaman to enter his ship, by a little
condescension and good-nature shown while the man was still his own
master. Your honor will take no offence at my boldness, when I tell
you, I should be glad to know more of this unlawful trader.”

Ludlow riveted his eyes on the unmoved and manly countenance of his
companion. There was a vague and undefined suspicion in the look; but
it vanished, as the practised organs drank in the assurance, which so
much physical promise afforded, of the aid of a bold and active
mariner. Rather amused than offended by the freedom of the request, he
turned upon his heel, and as they descended the bluff, on their way
towards the place of landing, he continued the dialogue.

“You are truly from a distant ocean,” said the young captain of the
Coquette, smiling like a man who apologizes to himself for an act of
what he thought undue condescension, “if the exploits of a brigantine
known by the name of the ‘Water-Witch,’ and of him who commands her,
under the fit appellation of the ‘Skimmer of the Seas,’ have not yet
reached your ears. It is now five summers, since orders have been in
the colonies for the cruisers to be on the alert to hunt the picaroon;
and it is even said, the daring smuggler has often braved the pennants
of the narrow seas. ’Twould be a bigger ship, if not knighthood, to the
lucky officer who should catch the knave!”

“He must drive a money-gaining trade, to run these risks, and to brave
the efforts of so many skilful gentlemen! May I add to a presumption
that your honor already finds too bold, if one may judge by a
displeased eye, by asking if report speaks to the face and other
particulars of the person of this—freetrader, one must call him, though
freebooter should be a better word.”

“What matters the personal condition of a rogue?” said Captain Ludlow,
who perhaps remembered that the freedom of their intercourse had been
carried as far as comported with prudence.

“What matter, truly! I asked because the description answers a little
to that of a man I once knew, in the seas of farther India, and who has
long since disappeared, though no one can say whither he has gone. But
this ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ is some Spaniard of the Main, or perhaps a
Dutchman come from the country that is awash, in order to taste of
terra-firma?”

“Spaniard of the southern coast never carried so bold a sail in these
seas, nor was there ever known a Dutchman with so light a heel. The
fellow is said to laugh at the swiftest cruiser out of England! As to
his figure, I have heard little good of it. ’Tis said, he is some
soured officer of better days, who has quitted the intercourse of
honest men, because roguery is so plainly written on his face, that he
vainly tries to hide it.”

“Mine was a proper man, and one that need not have been ashamed to show
his countenance among his fellows,” said he of the sash. “This cannot
be the same, if indeed there be any on the coast.—Is’t known, your
honor, that the man is truly here?”

“So goes a rumor; though so many idle tales have led me before to seek
the smuggler where he was not, that I give but little faith to the
report.—The periagua has the wind more at west, and the cloud in the
mouth of the Raritan is breaking into scud. The Alderman will have a
lucky run of it!”

“And the gulls have gone more seaward—a certain sign of pleasant
weather;” returned the other, glancing a quick but keen look over the
horizon in the offing. “I believe our rover, with his light duck, has
taken flight among them!”

“We will then go in pursuit. My ship is bound to sea; and it is time,
Master Tiller, that I know in what berth you are willing to serve the
Queen.”

“God bless her Majesty! Anne is a royal lady and she had a Lord High
Admiral for her husband. As for a berth, sir, one always wishes to be
captain even though he may be compelled to eat his ration in the
lee-scuppers. I suppose the first-lieutenancy is filled, to your
honor’s liking?”

“Sirrah, this is trifling; one of your years and experience need not be
told, that commissions are obtained by service.”

“Under favor;—I confess the error. Captain Ludlow, you are a man of
honor, and will not deceive a sailor who puts trust in your word.”

“Sailor, or landsman, he is safe who has the gage.”

“Then, sir, I ask it. Suffer me to enter your ship; to look into my
future messmates, and to judge of their characters; to see if the
vessel suits my humor; and then to quit her, if I find it convenient.”

“Fellow,” said Ludlow, “this impudence almost surpasseth patience!”

“The request is reasonable, as can be shown;” gravely returned the
unknown mariner. “Now, Captain Ludlow of the Coquette would gladly tie
himself, for better for worse, to a fair lady who is lately gone on the
water, and yet there are thousands who might be had with less
difficulty.”

“Still deeper and deeper in thy effrontery—and what if this be true?”

“Sir, a ship is a seaman’s mistress—nay, when fairly under a pennant,
with a war declared, he may be said to be wedded to her, lawfully or
not. He becomes ‘bone of her bone, and flesh of her flesh, until death
doth them part.’ To such a long compact, there should be liberty of
choice. Has not your mariner a taste, as well as your lover? The
harpings and counter of his ship are the waist and shoulders; the
rigging, the ringlets; the cut and fit of the sails, the fashion of the
millinery; the guns are always called the teeth, and her paint is the
blush and bloom! Here is matter of choice, sir; and, without leave to
make it, I must wish your honor a happy cruise, and the Queen a better
servitor.”

“Why, Master Tiller,” cried Ludlow, laughing, “you trust too much to
these stunted oaks, if you believe it exceeds my power to hunt you out
of their cover, at pleasure. But I take you at your word. The Coquette
shall receive you on these conditions, and with the confidence that a
first-rate city belle would enter a country ball-room.”

“I follow in your honor’s wake, without more words,” returned he of the
sash, for the first time respectfully raising his canvas cap to the
young commander. “Though not actually married, consider me a man
betrothed.”

It is not necessary to pursue the discourse between the two seamen any
further. It was maintained, and with sufficient freedom on the part of
the inferior, until they reached the shore, and came in full view of
the pennant of the Queen; when, with the tact of an old man-of-war’s
man, he threw into his manner all the respect that was usually required
by the difference of rank.

Half an hour later, the Coquette was rolling at a single anchor, as the
puffs of wind came off the hills on her three top-sails; and shortly
after, she was seen standing through the Narrows, with a fresh
southwesterly breeze. In all these movements, there was nothing to
attract attention. Notwithstanding the sarcastic allusions of Alderman
Van Beverout, the cruiser was far from being idle; and her passage
outward was a circumstance of so common occurrence, that it excited no
comment among the boatmen of the bay, and the coasters, who alone
witnessed her departure.




CHAPTER VII.


“—I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far
As that vast shore wash’d with the furthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.”

Romeo and Juliet.


A happy mixture of land and water, seen by a bright moon, and beneath
the sky of the fortieth degree of latitude, cannot fail to make a
pleasing picture. Such was the landscape which the reader must now
endeavor to present to his mind.

The wide estuary of Raritan is shut in from the winds and billows of
the open sea, by a long, low, and narrow cape, or point, which, by a
medley of the Dutch and English languages, that is by no means rare in
the names of places that lie within the former territories of the
United Provinces of Holland, is known by the name of Sandy-Hook. This
tongue of land appears to have been made by the unremitting and
opposing actions of the waves, on one side, and of the currents of the
different rivers, that empty their waters into the bay, on the other.
It is commonly connected with the low coast of New-Jersey, to the
south; but there are periods, of many years in succession, during which
there exists an inlet from the sea, between what may be termed the
inner end of the cape, and the main-land. During these periods,
Sandy-Hook, of course, becomes an island. Such was the fact at the time
of which it is our business to write.

The outer, or ocean side of this low and narrow bank of sand, is a
smooth and regular beach, like that seen on most of the Jersey coast,
while the inner is indented, in a manner to form several convenient
anchoring-grounds, for ships that seek a shelter from easterly gales.
One of the latter is a circular and pretty cove, in which vessels of a
light draught are completely embayed, and where they may, in safety,
ride secure from any winds that blow. The harbor, or, as it is always
called, the Cove, lies at the point where the cape joins the main, and
the inlet just named communicates directly with its waters, whenever
the passage is open. The Shrewsbury, a river of the fourth or fifth
class, or in other words a stream of a few hundred feet in width, and
of no great length, comes from the south, running nearly parallel with
the coast, and becomes a tributary of the Bay, also, at a point near
the Cove. Between the Shrewsbury and the sea, the land resembles that
on the cape, being low and sandy, though not entirely without
fertility. It is covered with a modest growth of pines and oaks, where
it is not either subject to the labors of the husbandman, or in natural
meadow. But the western bank of the river is an abrupt and high
acclivity, which rises to the elevation of a mountain. It was near the
base of the latter that Alderman Van Beverout, for reasons that may be
more fully developed as we proceed in our tale, had seen fit to erect
his villa, which, agreeably to a usage of Holland, he had called the
Lust in Rust; an appellation that the merchant, who had read a few of
the classics in his boyhood, was wont to say meant nothing more nor
less than ‘Otium cum dignitate.’

If a love of retirement and a pure air had its influence in determining
the selection of the burgher of Manhattan, he could not have made a
better choice. The adjoining lands had been occupied early in the
previous century, by a respectable family of the name of Hartshorne,
which continues seated at the place, to the present hour. The extent of
their possessions served, at that day, to keep others at a distance. If
to this fact be added the formation and quality of the ground, which
was, at so early a period, of trifling value for agricultural purposes,
it will be seen there was as little motive, as there was opportunity,
for strangers to intrude. As to the air it was refreshed by the breezes
of the ocean, which was scarcely a mile distant; while it had nothing
to render it unhealthy, or impure. With this sketch of the general
features of the scene where so many of our incidents occurred, we shall
proceed to describe the habitation of the Alderman, a little more in
detail.

The villa of the Lust in Rust was a low, irregular edifice, in bricks,
whitewashed to the color of the driven snow, and in a taste that was
altogether Dutch. There were many gables and weather-cocks, a dozen
small and twisted chimneys, with numberless facilities that were
intended for the nests of storks. These airy sites were, however,
untenanted, to the great admiration of the honest architect, who, like
many others that bring with them into this hemisphere habits and
opinions that are better suited to the other, never ceased expressing
his surprise on the subject, though all the negroes of the neighborhood
united in affirming there was no such bird in America. In front of the
house, there was a narrow but an exceedingly neat lawn, encircled by
shrubbery; while two old elms, that seemed coeval with the mountain,
grew in the rich soil of which the base of the latter was composed. Nor
was there a want of shade on any part of the natural terrace, that was
occupied by the buildings. It was thickly sprinkled with fruit-trees,
and here and there was a pine, or an oak, of the native growth. A
declivity that was rather rapid fell away in front, to the level of the
mouth of the river. In short, it was an ample but an unpretending
country-house, in which no domestic convenience had been forgotten;
while it had little to boast of in the way of architecture, except its
rusty vanes and twisted chimneys. A few out-houses, for the
accommodation of the negroes, were nigh; and nearer to the river, there
were barns and stables, of dimensions and materials altogether superior
to those that the appearance of the arable land, or the condition of
the small farm, would seem to render necessary. The periagua, in which
the proprietor had made his passage across the outer bay, lay at a
small wooden wharf immediately below.

For the earlier hours of the evening, the flashing of candles, and a
general and noisy movement among the blacks, had denoted the presence
of the master of the villa. But the activity had gradually subsided:
and before the clock struck nine, the manner in which the lights were
distributed, and the general silence, showed that the party, most
probably fatigued with their journey, had already separated for the
night. The clamor of the negroes had ceased, and the quiet of deep
sleep was already prevailing among their humble dwellings.

At the northern extremity of the villa, which, it will be remembered,
leaned against the mountain, and facing the east, or fronting the river
and the sea, there stood a little wing, even more deeply embowered in
shrubbery and low trees, than the other parts of the edifice, and which
was constructed altogether in a different style. This was a pavilion
erected for the particular accommodation, and at the cost, of la belle
Barbérie. Here the heiress of the two fortunes was accustomed to keep
her own little ménage, during the weeks passed in the country; and here
she amused herself, in those pretty and feminine employments that
suited her years and tastes. In compliment to the beauty and origin of
its inhabitant, the gallant François had christened this particular
portion of the villa, la Cour des Fées a name that had gotten into
general use, though somewhat corrupted in sound.

On the present occasion, the blinds of the principal apartment of the
pavilion were open, and its mistress was still to be seen at one of the
windows. Alida was at an age when the sex is most sensible of lively
impressions, and she looked abroad on the loveliness of the landscape,
and on the soft stillness of the night, with the pleasure that such a
mind is wont to receive from objects of natural beauty.

There was a young moon, and a firmament glowing with a myriad of stars.
The light was shed softly on the water, though, here and there, the
ocean glittered with its rays. A nearly imperceptible, but what seamen
call a heavy air came off the sea, bringing with it the refreshing
coolness of the hour. The surface of the immense waste was perfectly
unruffled, both within and without the barrier of sand that forms the
cape; but the body of the element was heaving and setting heavily, in a
manner to resemble the sleeping respiration of some being of huge
physical frame. The roar of the surf, which rolled up in long and white
curls upon the sands, was the only audible sound; but that was heavy
and incessant, sometimes swelling on the air, hollow and threatening,
and at others dying, in dull and distant murmurs, on the ear. There was
a charm in these varieties of sound, and in the solemn stillness of
such a night, that drew Alida into her little balcony; and she leaned
forward, beyond its shadow of sweet-brier, to gaze at a part of the bay
that was not visible, in the front view, from her windows.

La belle Barbérie smiled, when she saw the dim masts and dark hull of a
ship, which was anchored near the end of the cape, and within its
protection. There was the look of womanly pride in her dark eye, and
haply some consciousness of womanly power in the swell of her rich lip,
while a taper finger beat the bar of the balcony, rapidly, and without
consciousness of its employment.

“The loyal Captain Ludlow has quickly ended his cruise!” said the
maiden aloud, for she spoke under the influence of a triumph that was
too natural to be suppressed. “I shall become a convert to my uncle’s
opinions, and think the Queen badly served.”

“He who serves one mistress, faithfully, has no light task,” returned a
voice from among the shrubbery that grew beneath and nearly veiled the
window; “but he, who is devoted to two, may well despair of success
with both!”

Alida recoiled, and, at the next instant, she saw her place occupied by
the commander of the Coquette. Before venturing to cross the low
barrier that still separated him from the little parlor, the young man
endeavored to read the eye of its occupant; and then, either mistaking
its expression, or bold in his years and hopes, he entered the room.

Though certainly unused to have her apartment scaled with so little
ceremony, there was neither apprehension, nor wonder, in the
countenance of the fair descendant of the Huguenot. The blood mantled
more richly on her cheek; and the brightness of an eye, that was never
dull, increased, while her fine form became firm and commanding.

“I have heard that Captain Ludlow gained much of his renown by
gallantry in boarding,” she said, in a voice whose meaning admitted of
no misconception; “but I had hoped his ambition was satisfied with
laurels so fairly won from the enemies of his country!”

“A thousand pardons, fairest Alida,” interrupted the youth; “you know
the obstacles that the jealous watchfulness of your uncle opposes to my
desire to speak with you.”

“They are then opposed in vain, for Alderman Van Beverout has weakly
believed the sex and condition of his ward would protect her from these
coups-de-main.”

“Nay, Alida; this is being more capricious than the winds! You know,
too well, how far my suit is unpleasant to your gardian, to torture a
slight departure from cold observances into cause of serious complaint.
I had hoped—perhaps, I should say, I have presumed on the contents of
your letter, for which I return a thousand thanks; but do not thus
cruelly destroy expectations that have so lately been raised beyond the
point, perhaps, which reason may justify.”

The glow, which had begun to subside on the face of la belle Barbérie,
again deepened, and for a moment it appeared as if her high
self-dependence was a little weakened. After an instant of reflection,
however, she answered steadily, though not entirely without emotion.

“Reason, Captain Ludlow, has limited female propriety within narrow
limits,” she said. “In answering your letter, I have consulted
good-nature more than prudence; and I find that you are not slow in
causing me to repent the error.”

“If I ever cause you to repent confidence in me, sweet Alida, may
disgrace in my profession, and the distrust of the whole sex, be my
punishment! But, have I not reason to complain of this inconstancy, on
your part? Ought I to expect so severe a reprimand—severe, because cold
and ironical—for an offence, venial as the wish to proclaim my
gratitude?”

“Gratitude!” repeated Alida, and this time her wonder was not feigned.
“The word is strong, sir; and it expresses more than an act of
courtesy, so simple as that which may attend the lending a volume of
popular poetry, can have any right to claim.”

“I have strangely misconceived the meaning of the letter, or this has
been a day of folly!” said Ludlow, endeavoring to swallow his
discontent. “But, no; I have your own words to refute that averted eye
and cold look; and, by the faith of a sailor! Alida, I will believe
your deliberate and well-reflected thoughts, before these capricious
fancies, which are unworthy of your nature. Here are the very words; I
shall not easily part with the flattering hopes they convey!”

La belle Barbérie now regarded the young man in open amazement. Her
color changed; for of the indiscretion of writing, she knew she was not
guiltless,—but of having written in terms to justify the confidence of
the other, she felt no consciousness. The customs of the age, the
profession of her suitor, and the hour, induced her to look steadily in
to his face, to see whether the man stood before her in all the decency
of his reason. But Ludlow had the reputation of being exempt from a
vice that was then but too common among seamen, and there was nothing
in his ingenuous and really handsome features, to cause her to distrust
his present discretion. She touched a bell, and signed to her companion
to be seated.

“François,” said his mistress, when the old valet but half awake,
entered the apartment, “fais moi le plaisir de m’apporter de cette eau
de la fontaine du bosquet, et du vin—le Capitaine Ludlow a soif; et
rapelle-toi, bon François, il ne faut pas déranger mon oncle à cette
heure; il doit être bien fatigué de son voyage.”

When her respectful and respectable servitor had received his
commission and departed, Alida took a seat herself, in the confidence
of having deprived the visit of Ludlow of its clandestine character,
and at the same time having employed the valet on an errand that would
leave her sufficient leisure, to investigate the inexplicable meaning
of her companion.

“You have my word, Captain Ludlow, that this unseasonable appearance in
the pavilion, is indiscreet, not to call it cruel,” she said, so soon
as they were again alone; “but that you have it, in any manner, to
justify your imprudence, I must continue to doubt until confronted by
proof.”

“I had thought to have made a very different use of this,” returned
Ludlow, drawing a letter,—we admit it with some reluctance in one so
simple and so manly,—from his bosom: “and even now, I take shame in
producing it, though at your own orders.

“Some magic has wrought a marvel, or the scrawl has no such
importance,” observed Alida, taking a billet that she now began to
repent having ever written. “The language of politeness and female
reserve must admit of strange perversions, or all who read are not the
best interpreters.”

La belle Barbérie ceased speaking, for the instant her eye fell on the
paper, an absorbing and intense curiosity got the better of her
resentment. We shall give the contents of the letter, precisely in the
words which caused so much amazement, and possibly some little
uneasiness, to the fair creature who was perusing it.

“The life of a seaman,” said the paper, in a delicate and beautiful
female hand, “is one of danger and exposure. It inspires confidence in
woman, by the frankness to which it gives birth, and it merits
indulgence by its privations. She who writes this, is not insensible to
the merit of men of this bold calling. Admiration for the sea, and for
those who live on it has been her weakness through life; and her
visions of the future, like her recollections of the past, are not
entirely exempt from a contemplation of its pleasures. The usages of
different nations—glory in arms—change of scene—with constancy in the
affections, all sweetened by affluence, are temptations too strong for
a female imagination, and they should not be without their influence on
the judgment of man. Adieu.”

This note was read, re-perused, and for the third time conned, ere
Alida ventured to raise her eyes to the face of the expectant young
man.

“And this indelicate and unfeminine rhapsody, Captain Ludlow has seen
proper to ascribe to me!” she said, while her voice trembled between
pride and mortification.

“To whom else can I impute it? No other, lovely Alida, could utter
language so charming, in words so properly chosen.”

The long lashes of the maiden played quickly above their dark organs,
and then, conquering feelings that were strangely in contradiction to
each other, she said with dignity, turning to a little ebony éscritoire
which lay beside her dressing-box—

“My correspondence is neither very important nor very extensive; but
such as it is, happily for the reputation of the writer’s taste, if not
for her sanity, I believe it is in my power to show the trifle I
thought it decorous to write, in reply to your own letter. Here is a
copy,” she added, opening what in fact was a draught, and reading
aloud.

“I thank Capt. Ludlow for his attention in affording me an opportunity
of reading a narrative of the cruel deeds of the buccaneers. In
addition to the ordinary feelings of humanity, one cannot but regret,
that men so heartless are to be found in a profession that is commonly
thought to be generous and tender of the weak. We will, however, hope,
that the very wicked and cowardly, among seamen, exist only as foils to
render the qualities of the very bold and manly more conspicuous. No
one can be more sensible of this truth than the friends of Captain
Ludlow,” the voice of Alida fell a little, as she came to this
sentence, “who has not now to earn a reputation for mercy. In return, I
send the copy of the Cid, which honest François affirms to be superior
to all other poems, not even excepting Homer—a book, which I believe he
is innocent of calumniating, from ignorance of its contents. Again
thanking Capt. Ludlow for this instance of his repeated attentions I
beg he will keep the volume, until he shall return from his intended
cruise.”

“This note is but a copy of the one you have, or ought to have,” said
the niece of the Alderman, as she raised her glowing face from leaning
over the paper, “though it is not signed, like that, with the name of
Alida de Barbérie.”

When this explanation was over, both parties sat looking at each other,
in silent amazement. Still Alida saw, or thought she saw, that,
notwithstanding the previous professions of her admirer, the young man
rejoiced he had been deceived. Respect for delicacy and reserve in the
other sex is so general and so natural among men, that they who succeed
the most in destroying its barriers, rarely fail to regret their
triumph; and he who truly loves can never long exult in any violation
of propriety, in the object of his affections, even though the
concession be made in his own favor. Under the influence of this
commendable and healthful feeling, Ludlow, while he was in some
respects mortified at the turn affairs had taken, felt sensibly
relieved from a load of doubt, to which the extraordinary language of
the letter, he believed his mistress to have written, had given birth.
His companion read the state of his mind, in a countenance that was
frank as face of sailor could be; and though secretly pleased to gain
her former place in his respect, she was also vexed and wounded that he
had ever presumed to distrust her reserve. She still held the
inexplicable billet and her eyes naturally sought the lines. A sudden
thought seemed to strike her mind, and returning the paper, she said
coldly—

“Captain Ludlow should know his correspondent better; I much mistake if
this be the first of her communications.”

The young man colored to the temples, and hid his face, for a moment,
in the hollow of his hands.

“You admit the truth of my suspicions,” continued la belle Barbérie,
“and cannot be insensible of my justice, when I add, that
henceforth———”

“Listen to me, Alida,” cried the youth, half breathless in his haste to
interrupt a decision that he dreaded; “hear me, and as Heaven is my
judge, you shall hear only truth. I confess this is not the first of
the letters, written in the same hand—perhaps I should say in the same
spirit—but, on the honor of a loyal officer, I affirm, that until
circumstances led me to think myself so happy—so—very happy,—”

“I understand you, sir: the work was anonymous, until you saw fit to
inscribe my name as its author. Ludlow! Ludlow! how meanly have you
thought of the woman you profess to love!”

“That were impossible! I mingle little with those who study the finesse
of life; and loving, as I do, my noble profession, Alida, was it so
unnatural to believe that another might view it with the same eyes? But
since you disavow the letter—nay, your disavowal is unnecessary—I see
my vanity has even deceived me in the writing—but since the delusion is
over, I confess that I rejoice it is not so.”

La belle Barbérie smiled, and her countenance grew brighter. She
enjoyed the triumph of knowing that she merited the respect of her
suitor, and it was a triumph heightened by recent mortification. Then
succeeded a pause of more than a minute. The embarrassment of the
silence was happily interrupted by the return of François.

“Mam’selle Alide, voici de l’eau de la fontaine,” said the valet; “mais
Monsieur votre oncle s’est couché, et il a mis la cléf de la cave au
vin dessous son oreiller. Ma foi, ce n’est pas facile d’avoir du bon
vin du tout, en Amerique, mais après que Monsieur le maire s’est
couché, c’est toujours impossible; voila!”

“N’importe, mon cher; le capitaine va partir, et il n’a plus soif.”

“Dere is assez de jin,” continued the valet, who felt for the captain’s
disappointment, “mais, Monsieur Loodle, have du gout, an’ he n’aime pas
so strong liqueur.”

“He has swallowed already more than was necessary for one occasion,”
said Alida, smiling on her admirer, in a manner that left him doubtful
whether he ought most to repine, or to rejoice. “Thank you, good
François; your duty for the night shall end with lighting the captain
to the door.”

Then saluting the young commander, in a manner that would not admit of
denial, la belle Barbérie dismissed her lover and the valet, together.

“You have a pleasant office, Monsieur François,” said the former, as he
was lighted to the outer door of the pavilion; “it is one that many a
gallant gentleman would envy.”

“Oui, Sair. It be grand plaisir to serve Mam’selle Alide. Je porte de
fan, de book, mais quant au vin, Monsieur le Capitaine, parole
d’honneur, c’est toujours impossible après que l’Aldermain s’est
couché.”

“Aye—the book—I think you had the agreeable duty, to-day, of carrying
the book of la Belle?”

“Vraiment, oui! ’Twas ouvrage de Monsieur Pierre Corneille. On prétend,
que Monsieur Shak-a-spear en a emprunté d’assez beaux sentiments!”

“And the paper between the leaves?—you were charged also with that
note, good François?”

The valet paused, shrugged his shoulders, and laid one of his long
yellow fingers on the plane of an enormous aquiline nose, while he
seemed to muse. Then shaking his head perpendicularly, he preceded the
captain, as before, muttering, as usual, half in French and half in
English,—

“For le papier, I know, rien du tout; c’est bien possible, parceque,
voyez vous, Monsieur le Capitaine, Mam’selle Alide did say, prenez-y
garde; but I no see him, depuis. Je suppose ’twas beaux compliments
écrits on de vers of M. Pierre Corneille. Quel génie que celui de cet
homme là!—n’est ce pas, Monsieur?”

“It is of no consequence, good François,” said Ludlow, slipping a
guinea into the hands of the valet. “If you should ever discover what
became of that paper, however, you will oblige me by letting me know.
Good night; mes devoirs à la Belle!”

“Bon soir, Monsieur le Capitaine; c’est un brave Monsieur que celui-la,
et de très bonne famille! Il n’a pas de si grandes terres, que Monsieur
le Patteroon, pourtant, on dit, qu’il doit avoir de jolies maisons et
assez de rentes publiques! J’aime à servir un si généreux et loyal
maître, mais, malheureusement, il est marin! M. de Barbérie n’avait pas
trop d’amitié pour les gens de cette profession là.”




CHAPTER VIII.


“—Well, Jessica, go in;
Perhaps, I will return immediately;
Do as I bid you,
Shut doors after you: Fast bind, fast find;
A proverb never stale, in thrifty mind.”

Merchant of Venice.


The decision, with which la demoiselle Barbérie had dismissed her
suitor, was owing to some consciousness that she had need of
opportunity to reflect on the singular nature of the events which had
just happened, no less than to a sense of the impropriety of his
visiting her at that hour, and in a manner so equivocal. But, like
others who act from feverish impulses, when alone the maiden repented
of her precipitation; and she remembered fifty questions which might
aid in clearing the affair of its mystery, that she would now gladly
put. It was too late, however, for she had heard Ludlow take his leave,
and had listened, in breathless silence, to his footstep, as he passed
the shrubbery of her little lawn. François reappeared at the door, to
repeat his wishes for her rest and happiness, and then she believed she
was finally alone for the night, since the ladies of that age and
country, were little apt to require the assistance of their attendants,
in assuming, or in divesting themselves of, their ordinary attire.

It was still early, and the recent interview had deprived Alida of all
inclination for sleep. She placed the lights in a distant corner of the
apartment, and approached a window. The moon had so far changed its
position, as to cast a different light upon the water. The hollow
washing of the surf, the dull but heavy breathing of the air from the
sea, and the soft shadows of the trees and mountain, were much the
same. The Coquette lay, as before, at her anchor near the cape, and the
Shrewsbury glittered towards the south, until its surface was concealed
by the projection of a high and nearly perpendicular bluff.

The stillness was profound, for, with the exception of the dwelling of
the family who occupied the estate nearest the villa, there was no
other habitation within some miles of the place. Still the solitude of
the situation was undisturbed by any apprehension of danger, or any
tradition of violence from rude and lawless men. The peaceable
character of the colonists, who dwelt in the interior country, was
proverbial, and their habits simple; while the ocean was never entered
by those barbarians, who then rendered some of the seas of the other
hemisphere as fearful as they were pleasant.

Notwithstanding this known and customary character of tranquillity, and
the lateness of the hour, Alida had not been many moments in her
balcony, before she heard the sound of oars. The stroke was measured,
and the noise low and distant, but it was too familiar to be mistaken.
She wondered at the expedition of Ludlow, who was not accustomed to
show such haste in quitting her presence, and leaned over the railing
to catch a glimpse of his departing boat. Each moment she expected to
see the little bark issue from out of the shadows of the land, into the
sheet of brightness which stretched nearly to the cruiser. She gazed
long, and in vain, for no barge appeared, and yet the sound had become
inaudible. A light still hung at the peak of the Coquette, a sign that
the commander was out of his vessel.

The view of a fine ship, seen by the aid of the moon, with its symmetry
of spars, and its delicate tracery of cordage, and the heavy and grand
movements of the hull as it rolls on the sluggish billows of a calm
sea, is ever a pleasing and indeed an imposing spectacle. Alida knew
that more, than a hundred human beings slept within the black and
silent mass, and her thoughts insensibly wandered to the business of
their daring lives, their limited abode, and yet wandering existence,
their frank and manly qualities, their devotion to the cause of those
who occupied the land, their broken and interrupted connexion with the
rest of the human family, and finally to those weakened domestic ties,
and to that reputation for inconstancy, which are apparently a natural
consequence of all. She sighed, and her eye wandered from the ship to
that ocean on which it was constructed to dwell. From the distant, low,
and nearly imperceptible shore of the island of Nassau, to the coast of
New-Jersey, there was one broad and untenanted waste. Even the sea-fowl
rested his tired wing, and slept tranquilly on the water. The broad
space appeared like some great and unfrequented desert, or rather like
a denser and more material copy of the firmament by which it was
canopied.

It has been mentioned that a stunted growth of oaks and pines covered
much of the sandy ridge that formed the cape. The same covering
furnished a dark setting to the waters of the Cove. Above this outline
of wood, which fringed the margin of the sea. Alida now fancied she saw
an object in motion. At first, she believed some ragged and naked tree,
of which the coast had many, was so placed as to deceive her vision,
and had thrown its naked lines upon the background of water, in a
manner to assume the shape and tracery of a light-rigged vessel. But
when the dark and symmetrical spars were distinctly seen, gliding past
objects that were known to be stationary, it was impossible to doubt
their character. The maiden wondered, and her surprise was not unmixed
with apprehension. It seemed as if the stranger for such the vessel
must needs be, was recklessly approaching a surf, that, in its most
tranquil moments, was dangerous to such a fabric, and that he steered,
unconscious of hazard, directly upon the land. Even the movement was
mysterious and unusual. Sails there were none; and yet the light and
lofty spars were soon hid behind a thicket that covered a knoll near
the margin of the sea. Alida expected, each moment, to hear the cry of
mariners in distress, and then, as the minutes passed and no such
fearful sound interrupted the stillness of the night, she began to
bethink her of those lawless rovers, who were known to abound among the
Carribean isles, and who were said sometimes even to enter and to
refit, in the smaller and more secret inlets of the American continent.
The tales, coupled with the deeds, character, and fate of the notorious
Kidd, were then still recent, and although magnified and colored by
vulgar exaggerations, as all such tales are known to be, enough was
believed, by the better instructed, to make his life and death the
subject of many curious and mysterious rumors. At this moment, she
would have gladly recalled the young commander of the Coquette, to
apprize him of the enemy that was nigh; and then, ashamed of terrors
that she was fain to hope savored more of woman’s weakness than of
truth, she endeavored to believe the whole some ordinary movement of a
coaster, who, familiar with his situation, could not possibly be either
in want of aid, or an object of alarm. Just as this natural and
consoling conclusion crossed her mind, she very audibly heard a step in
her pavilion. It seemed near the door of the room she occupied.
Breathless, more with the excitement of her imagination, than with any
actual fear created by this new cause of alarm, the maiden quitted the
balcony, and stood motionless to listen. The door, in truth, was
opened, with singular caution, and, for an instant, Alida saw nothing
but a confused area in the centre of which appeared the figure of a
menacing and rapacious freebooter.

“Northern lights and moonshine!” growled Alderman Van Beverout, for it
was no other than the uncle of the heiress, whose untimely and
unexpected visit had caused her so much alarm. “This sky-watching, and
turning of night into day, will be the destruction of thy beauty,
niece; and then we shall see how plenty Patroons are for husbands! A
bright eye and a blooming cheek are thy stock in trade, girl; and she
is a spendthrift of both, who is out of her bed when the clock hath
struck ten.”

“Your discipline would deprive many a beauty of the means of using her
power,” returned la demoiselle, smiling, as much at the folly of her
recent fears, as with affection for her reprover. “They tell me, that
ten is the witching time of night, for the necromancy of the dames of
Europe.”

“Witch me no witches! The name reminds one of the cunning Yankees, a
race that would outwit Lucifer himself, if left to set the conditions
to their bargain. Here is the Patroon, wishing to let in a family of
the knaves among the honest Dutchmen of his manor; and we have just
settled a dispute between us, on this subject, by making the lawful
trial.”

“Which, it may be proper to hope, dearest uncle, was not the trial by
battle?”

“Peace and olive-branches, no! The Patroon of Kinderhook is the last
man in the Americas, that is likely to suffer by the blows of Myndert
Van Beverout. I challenged the boy to hold a fine eel, that the blacks
have brought out of the river to help in breaking our morning fasts,
that it might be seen if he were fit to deal with the slippery rogues.
By the merit of the peaceable St. Nicholas! but the son of old Hendrick
Van Staats had a busy time of it! The lad griped the fish, as the
ancient tradition has it that thy uncle clenched the Holland florin,
when my father put it between my fingers, within the month, in order to
see if the true saving grace was likely to abide in the family for
another generation. My heart misgave me for a moment; for young Oloff
has the fist of a vice, and I thought the goodly names of the Harmans,
and Rips, Corneliuses, and Dircks of the manor rent-roll were likely to
be contaminated by the company of an Increase or a Peleg; but just as
the Patroon thought he had the watery viper by the throat, the fish
gave an unexpected twist, and slid through his fingers by the tail.
Flaws and loop-holes! but that experiment has as much wisdom as wit in
it!”

“And to me, it seemeth better, now that Providence has brought all the
colonies under one government, that these prejudices should be
forgotten. We are a people, sprung from many nations, and our effort
should be to preserve the liberality and intelligence, while we forget
the weaknesses, of all.”

“Bravely said, for the child of a Huguenot! But I defy the man, who
brings prejudice to my door. I like a merry trade, and a quick
calculation. Let me see the man in all New-England, that can tell the
color of a balance-sheet quicker than one that can be named, and I’ll
gladly hunt up the satchel and go to school again. I love a man the
better for looking to his own interests, I; and, yet common honesty
teaches us, that there should be a convention between men, beyond which
none of reputation and character ought to go.”

“Which convention shall be understood, by every man, to be the limits
of his own faculties; by which means the dull may rival the quick of
thought. I fear me, uncle, there should be an eel kept on every coast,
to which a trader comes!”

“Prejudice and conceit, child, acting on a drowsy head; ’tis time thou
seekest thy pillow, and in the morning we shall see if young Oloff of
the Manor shall have better success with thy favor, than with the
prototype of the Jonathans. Here, put out these flaring candles, and
take a modest lamp to light thee to thy bed. Glaring windows, so near
midnight give a house an extravagant name, in the neighborhood.”

“Our reputation for sobriety may suffer in the opinion of the eels,”
returned Alida, laughing, “but here are few others, I believe, to call
us dissipated.”

“One never knows—one never knows—” muttered the Alderman, extinguishing
the two large candles of his niece, and substituting his own little
handlamp in their place. “This broad light only invites to wakefulness,
while the dim taper I leave is good as a sleeping draught. Kiss me,
wilful one, and draw thy curtains close, for the negroes will soon rise
to load the periagua, that they may go up with the tide to the city.
The noise of the chattering black guards may disturb thy slumbers!”

“Truly, it would seem there was little here to invite such active
navigation,” returned Alida, saluting the cheek of her uncle at his
order. “The love of trade must be strong, when it finds the materials
of commerce, in a solitude like this.”

“Thou hast divined the reason, child. Thy father Monsieur de Barbérie
had his peculiar opinions on the subject, and doubtless he did not fail
to transmit some of them to his offspring. And yet, when the Huguenot
was driven from his château and his clayey Norman lands, the man had no
distaste, himself, for an account-current, provided the balance was in
his own favor. Nations and characters! I find but little difference,
after all, in trade; whether it be driven with a Mohawk for his pack of
furs, or with a Seigneur, who has been driven from his lands. Each
strives to get the profit on his own side of the account, and the loss
on that of his neighbor. So rest thee well, girl; and remember that
matrimony is no more than a capital bargain, on whose success depends
the sum-total of a woman’s comfort—and so once more, good night.”

La belle Barbérie attended her uncle, dutifully to the door of her
pavilion, which she bolted after him; and then, finding her little
apartment gloomy by the light of the small and feeble lamp he had left,
she was pleased to bring its flame in contact with the wicks of the two
candles he had just extinguished. Placing the three, near each other,
on a table, the maiden again drew nigh a window. The unexpected
interview with the Alderman had consumed several minutes, and she was
curious to know more of the unaccountable movements of the mysterious
vessel.

The same deep silence reigned about the villa, and the slumbering ocean
was heaving and setting as heavily as before. Alida again looked for
the boat of Ludlow; but her eye ran over the whole distance of the
bright and broad streak, between her and the cruiser, in vain. There
was the slight ripple of the water in the glittering of the moon’s
rays, but no speck, like that the barge would make, was visible. The
lantern still shone at the cruiser’s peak. Once, indeed, she thought
the sound of oars was again to be heard, and much nearer than before;
and yet no effort of her quick and roving sight could detect the
position of the boat. But to all these doubts succeeded an alarm which
sprang from a new and very different source.

The existence of the inlet, which united the ocean with the waters of
the Cove, was but little known, except to the few whose avocations kept
them near the spot. The pass being much more than half the time closed,
its varying character, and the little use that could be made of it
under any circumstances, prevented the place from being a subject of
general interest, with the coasters. Even when open the depth of its
water was uncertain, since a week or two of calms, or of westerly
winds, would permit the tides to clean its channel, while a single
easterly gale was sufficient to choke the entire inlet with sand. No
wonder, then, that Alida felt an amazement which was not quite free
from superstitious alarm when, at that hour and in such a scene, she
saw a vessel gliding, as it were unaided by sails or sweeps, out of the
thicket that fringed the ocean side of the Cove, into its very centre.

The strange and mysterious craft was a brigantine of that mixed
construction, which is much used, even in the most ancient and
classical seas of the other hemisphere, and which is supposed to unite
the advantages of both a square and of a fore-and-aft rigged vessel,
but which is nowhere seen to display the same beauty of form, and
symmetry of equipment, as on the coasts of this Union. The first and
smallest of its masts had all the complicated machinery of a ship, with
its superior and inferior spars, its wider reaching, though light and
manageable yards, and its various sails, shaped and arranged to meet
every vicissitude and caprice of the winds; while the latter, or larger
of the two, rose like the straight trunk of a pine from the hull,
simple in its cordage, and spreading a single sheet of canvas, that, in
itself, was sufficient to drive the fabric with vast velocity through
the water. The hull was low, graceful in its outlines, dark as the
raven’s wing, and so modelled as to float on its element like a
sea-gull riding the billows. There were many delicate and attenuated
lines among its spars, which were intended to spread broader folds of
canvas to the light airs, when necessary; but these additions to the
tracery of the machine, which added so much to its beauty by day, were
now, seen as it was by the dimmer and more treacherous rays of the
moon, scarcely visible. In short, as the vessel had entered the Cove
floating with the tide, and it was so singularly graceful and
fairy-like in form, that Alida, at first, was fain to discredit her
senses, and to believe it no more than some illusion of the fancy. Like
most others, she was ignorant of the temporary inlet, and, under the
circumstances, it was not difficult to lend a momentary credence to so
pleasing an idea.

But the delusion was only momentary. The brigantine turned in its
course, and, gliding into the part of the Cove where the curvature of
the shores offered most protection from the winds and waves, and
perhaps from curious eyes, its motion ceased. A heavy plunge in the
water was audible even at the villa, and Alida then knew that an anchor
had fallen into the bay.

Although the coast of North America offered little to invite lawless
depredation, and it was in general believed to be so safe, yet the
possibility that cupidity might be invited by the retired situation of
her uncle’s villa, did not fail to suggest itself to the mind of the
young heiress. Both she and her guardian were reputed to be wealthy;
and disappointment, on the open sea, might drive desperate men to the
commission of crimes that in more prosperous moments would not suggest
themselves. The freebooters were said to have formerly visited the
coast of the neighboring island, and men were just then commencing
those excavations for hidden treasures and secreted booty, which have
been, at distant intervals, continued to our own time.

There are situations in which the mind insensibly gives credit to
impressions, that the reason in common disapproves. The present was one
in which Alide de Barbérie, though of a resolute and even a masculine
understanding, felt disposed to believe there might be truth in those
tales, that she had hitherto heard, only to deride. Still keeping her
eye on the motionless vessel, she drew back into her window and wrapped
the curtain round her form, undecided whether to alarm the family or
not, and acting under a vague impression that, though so distant, her
person might be seen. She was hardly thus secreted, before the
shrubbery was violently agitated, a footstep was heard in the lawn
beneath her window, and then one leaped so lightly into the balcony,
and from the balcony into the centre of the room, that the passage of
the figure seemed like the flitting of some creature of supernatural
attributes.




CHAPTER IX.


“Why look you, how you stare!
I would be friends with you, and have your love.”

Shylock.


The first impulse of Alida, at this second invasion of her pavilion,
was certainly to flee. But timidity was not her weakness, and as
natural firmness gave her time to examine the person of the individual
who had so unceremoniously entered, curiosity aided in inducing her to
remain. Perhaps a vague, but a very natural, expectation that she was
again to dismiss the commander of the Coquette, had its influence on
her first decision. In order that the reader may judge how far this
boldness was excusable, we shall describe the person of the intruder.

The stranger was one in the very bud of young and active manhood. His
years could not have exceeded two-and-twenty, nor would he probably
have been thought so old, had not his features been shaded by a rich,
brown hue, that in some degree, served as a foil to a natural
complexion, which, though never fair, was still clear and blooming. A
pair of dark, bushy, and jet-black, silken whiskers, that were in
singular contrast to eye-lashes and brows of almost feminine beauty and
softness, aided also in giving a decided expression to a face that
might otherwise have been wanting in some of that character which is
thought essential to comeliness in man. The forehead was smooth and
low; the nose, though prominent and bold in outline, of exceeding
delicacy in detail; the mouth and lips full, a little inclined to be
arch, though the former appeared as if it might at times be pensive;
the teeth were even and unsullied; and the chin was small, round,
dimpled, and so carefully divested of the distinguishing mark of the
sex, that one could fancy nature had contributed all its growth to
adorn the neighboring cheeks and temples. If to these features be added
a pair of full and brilliant coal-black eyes, that appeared to vary
their expression at their master’s will, the reader will at once see,
that the privacy of Alida had been invaded by one whose personal
attractions might, under other circumstances, have been dangerous to
the imagination of a female, whose taste was in some degree influenced
by a standard created by her own loveliness.

The dress of the stranger was as unique as his personal attractions
were extraordinary. The fashion of the garments resembled that of those
already described as worn by the man who has announced himself as
Master Tiller; but the materials were altogether richer, and, judging
only from the exterior, more worthy of the wearer.

The light frock was of a thick purple silk, of an Indian manufacture,
cut with exceeding care to fit the fine outlines of a form that was
rather round, than square; active, than athletic. The loose trousers
were of a fine white jean, the cap of scarlet velvet, ornamented with
gold, and the body was belted with a large cord of scarlet silk,
twisted in the form of a ship’s cable. At the ends of the latter,
little anchors, wrought in bullion, were attached as gay and fitting
appendages.

In contrast to an attire so whimsical and uncommon, however, a pair of
small and richly-mounted pistols were at the stranger’s girdle; and the
haft, of a curiously-carved Asiatic dagger was seen projecting, rather
ostentatiously, from between the folds of the upper garment.

“What cheer! what cheer!” cried a voice, that was more in harmony with
the appearance of the speaker, than with the rough, professional
salutation he uttered, so soon as he had fairly landed in the centre of
Alida’s little saloon. “Come forth, my dealer in the covering of the
beaver, for here is one who brings gold to thy coffers. Ha! now that
this trio of lights hath done its office, it may be extinguished, lest
it pilot others to the forbidden haven!”

“Your pardon, sir,” said the mistress of the pavilion, advancing from
behind the curtain, with an air of coolness that her beating heart had
nigh betrayed to be counterfeit; “having so unexpected a guest to
entertain, the additional candles are necessary.”

The start, recoil, and evident alarm of the intruder, lent Alida a
little more assurance; for courage is a quality that appears to gain
force, in a degree proportioned to the amount in which it is abstracted
from the dreaded object. Still, when she saw a hand on a pistol, the
maiden was again about to flee; nor was her resolution to remain
confirmed, until she met the mild and alluring eye of the intruder, as,
quitting his hold of the weapon, he advanced with an air so mild and
graceful, as to cause curiosity to take the place of fear.

“Though Alderman Van Beverout be not punctual to his appointment,” said
the gay young stranger “he has more than atoned for his absence by the
substitute he sends. I hope she comes authorized to arrange the whole
of our treaty?”

“I claim no right to hear, or to dictate, in matters not my own. My
utmost powers extend to expressing a desire, that this pavilion may be
exempt from the discussion of affairs, as much beyond my knowledge as
they are separated from my interests.”

“Then why this signal?” demanded the stranger, pointing, with a serious
air, to the lights that still burned near each other in face of an open
window “It is awkward to mislead, in transactions that are so
delicate!”

“Your allusion, sir, is not understood. These lights are no more than
what are usually seen in my apartment at this hour—with, indeed, the
addition of a lamp, left by my uncle, Alderman Van Beverout.”

“Your uncle!” exclaimed the other, advancing so near Alida, as to cause
her to retire a step, his countenance expressing a deep and
newly-awakened interest—“your uncle!—This, then, is one far-famed and
justly extolled; la belle Barbérie!” he added, gallantly lifting his
cap, as if he had just discovered the condition and the unusual
personal attractions of his companion.

It was not in nature for Alida to be displeased. All her fancied causes
of terror were forgotten; for, in addition to their improbable and
uncertain nature, the stranger had sufficiently given her to
understand, that he was expected by her uncle. If we add, that the
singular attraction and softness of his face and voice aided in
quieting her fears, we shall probably do no violence either to the
truth or to a very natural feeling. Profoundly ignorant of the details
of commerce, and accustomed to hear its mysteries extolled as
exercising the keenest and best faculties of man, she saw nothing
extraordinary in those who were actively engaged in the pursuit having
reasons for concealing their movements from the jealousy and rivalry of
competitors. Like most of her sex, she had great dependence on the
characters of those she loved; and, though nature, education, and
habit, had created a striking difference between the guardian and his
ward, their harmony had never been interrupted by any breach of
affection.

“This then is la belle Barbérie!” repeated the young sailor, for such
his dress denoted him to be, studying her features with an expression
of face, in which pleasure vied with evident and touching melancholy.
“Fame hath done no injustice, for here is all that might justify the
folly or madness of man!”

“This is familiar dialogue for an utter stranger,” returned Alida,
blushing, though the quick dark eye that seemed to fathom all her
thoughts, saw it was not in anger. “I do not deny that the partiality
of friends, coupled with my origin, have obtained the appellation,
which is given, however, more in playfulness than in any serious
opinion of its being merited—and now, as the hour is getting late, and
this visit is at least unusual, you will permit me to seek my uncle.”

“Stay!” interrupted the stranger—“it is long—very long, since so
soothing, so gentle a pleasure has been mine! This is a life of
mysteries, beautiful Alida, though its incidents seem so vulgar, and of
every-day occurrence. There is mystery in its beginning and its end; in
its impulses; its sympathies and all its discordant passions. No, do
not quit me. I am from off the sea, where none but coarse and
vulgar-minded men have long been my associates; and thy presence is a
balm to a bruised and wounded spirit.”

Interested, if possible, more by the touching and melancholy tones of
the speaker, than by his extraordinary language, Alida hesitated. Her
reason told her that propriety, and even prudence, required she should
apprize her uncle of the stranger’s presence; but propriety and
prudence lose much of their influence, when female curiosity is
sustained by a secret and powerful sympathy. Her own eloquent eye met
the open and imploring look of organs, that seemed endowed with the
fabled power to charm; and while her judgment told her there was so
much to alarm her senses pleaded powerfully in behalf of the gentle
mariner.

“An expected guest of my uncle will have, leisure to repose, after the
privations and hardships of so weary a voyage,” she said. “This is a
house whose door is never closed against the rites of hospitality.”

“If there is aught about my person or attire, to alarm you,” returned
the stranger, earnestly, “speak, that it may be cast away—These
arms—these foolish arms, had better not have been here,” he added,
casting the pistols and dagger indignantly, through a window, into the
shrubbery; “Ah! if you knew how unwillingly I would harm any—and, least
of all, a woman—you would not fear me!”

“I fear you not,” returned la Belle, firmly. “I dread the
misconceptions of the world.”

“What world is here to disturb us? Thou livest in thy pavilion,
beautiful Alida, remote from towns and envy, like some favored damsel,
over whose happy and charmed life presides a benignant genius. See,
here are all the pretty materials, with which thy sex seeks innocent
and happy amusement. Thou touchest this lute, when melancholy renders
thought pleasing; here are colors to mock, or to eclipse, the beauties
of the fields and the mountain, the flower, and the tree; and from
these pages are culled thoughts, pure and rich in imagery, as thy
spirit is spotless, and thy person lovely!”

Alida listened in amazement; for, while he spoke the young mariner
touched the different articles he named, with a melancholy interest,
which seemed to say how deeply he regretted that fortune had placed him
in a profession, in which their use was nearly denied.

“It is not common for those who live on the sea, to feel this interest
in the trifles which constitute a woman’s pleasure,” she said,
lingering, spite of her better resolution to depart.

“The spirit of our rude and boisterous trade is then known to you?”

“It were not possible for the relation of a merchant, so extensively
known as my uncle, to be ignorant altogether of mariners.”

“Aye, here is proof of it,” returned the stranger, speaking so quick as
again to betray how sensitively his mind was constructed. “The History
of the American Buccaneers is a rare book to be found in a lady’s
library! What pleasure can a mind like that of la belle Barbérie find
in these recitals of bloody violence?”

“What pleasure, truly!” returned Alida, half tempted, by the wild and
excited eye of her companion, not withstanding all the contradictory
evidence which surrounded him, to believe she was addressing one of the
very rovers in question. “The book was lent me by a brave seaman, who
holds himself in readiness to repress their depredations; and while
reading of so much wickedness, I endeavor to recall the devotion of
those who risk their lives, in order to protect the weak and
innocent—My uncle will be angered, should I longer delay to apprize him
of your presence.”

“A single moment! It is long—very long, since I have entered a
sanctuary like this! Here is music; and there the frame for the gaudy
tambour—these windows look on a landscape, soft as thine own nature;
and yonder ocean can be admired without dreading its terrific power, or
feeling disgust at its coarser scenes. Thou shouldst be happy, here!”

The stranger turned, and perceived that he was alone. Disappointment
was strongly painted on his handsome face; but, ere there was time for
second thought, another voice was heard grumbling at the door of the
saloon.

“Compacts and treaties! What, in the name of good faith, hath brought
thee hither? Is this the way to keep a cloak on our movements? or dost
suppose that the Queen will knight me, for being known as thy
correspondent?”

“Lanterns and false-beacons!” returned the other, mimicking the voice
of the disconcerted burgher, and pointing to the lights that still
stood where last described. “Can the port be entered without respecting
the land-marks and signals?”

“This comes of moonlight and sentiment! When the girl should have been
asleep, she is up, gazing at the stars, and disconcerting a burgher’s
speculations—But fear thee not, Master Seadrift; my niece has
discretion, and if we have no better pledge for her silence, there is
that of necessity; since there is no one here for a confidant, but her
old Norman valet, and the Patroon of Kinderhook, both of whom are
dreaming of other matter than a little gainful traffic.”

“Fear thee not, Alderman;” returned the other, still maintaining his
air of mockery. “We have the pledge of character, if no other; since
the uncle cannot part with reputation, without the niece sharing in the
loss.”

“What sin is there in pushing commerce a step beyond the limits of the
law? These English are a nation of monopolists; and they make no
scruple of tying us of the colonies, hand and foot, heart and soul,
with their acts of Parliament, saying ‘with us shalt thou trade, or not
at all.’ By the character of the best burgomaster of Amsterdam, and
they came by the province, too, in no such honesty, that we should lie
down and obey!”

“Wherein there is much comfort to a dealer in the contraband. Justly
reasoned, my worthy Alderman. Thy logic will, at any time, make a
smooth pillow, especially if the adventure be not without its profit.
And now, having so commendably disposed of the moral of our bargain,
let us approach its legitimate, if not its lawful, conclusion. There,”
he added, drawing a small bag from an inner pocket of his frock, and
tossing it carelessly on a table; “there is thy gold. Eighty broad
Johannes is no bad return for a few packages of furs; and even avarice
itself will own, that six months is no long investment for the usury.”

“That boat of thine, most lively Seadrift, is a marine humming-bird!”
returned Myndert, with a joyful tremor of the voice, that betrayed his
deep and entire satisfaction. “Didst say just eighty? But spare thyself
the trouble of looking for the memorandum; I will tell the gold myself,
to save thee the trouble. Truly, the adventure hath not been bad! A few
kegs of Jamaica, with a little powder and lead, and a blanket or two,
with now and then a penny bauble for a chief, are knowingly, aye! and
speedily transmuted into the yellow metal, by thy good aid.—This affair
was managed on the French coast?”

“More northward, where the frost helped the bargain. Thy beavers and
martens, honest burgher, will be flaunting in the presence of the
Emperor, at the next holidays. What is there in the face of the
Braganza, that thou studiest it so hard?”

“The piece seems none of the heaviest—but, luckily, I have scales at
hand,—”

“Hold!” said the stranger, laying his hand, which according to a
fashion of that day, was clad in a delicate and scented glove, lightly
on the arm of the other: “No scales between us, sir! That was taken in
return for thy adventure; heavy or light, it must go down. We deal in
confidence, and this hesitation offends me. Another such doubt of my
integrity, and our connexion is at an end.”

“A calamity I should deplore, quite or nearly as much as thyself,”
returned Myndert, affecting to laugh; though he slipped the suspected
doubloon into the bag again, in a manner that at once removed the
object of contention from view. “A little particularity in the balance
part of commerce serves to maintain friendships. But a trifle shall not
cause us to waste the precious time.—Hast brought goods suited to the
colonies?”

“In plenty.”

“And ingeniously assorted? Colonies and monopoly!—But there is a
two-fold satisfaction in this clandestine traffic! I never get the
notice of thy arrival, Master Seadrift, but the heart within me leapeth
of gladness! There is a double pleasure in circumventing the
legislation of your London wiseacres!”

“The chiefest of which is—?”

“A goodly return for the investment, truly—I desire not to deny the
agency of natural causes; but, trust me, there is a sort of
professional glory in thus defeating the selfishness of our rulers.
What! are we born of woman, to be used as the instruments of their
prosperity! Give us equal legislation, a right to decide on the policy
of enactments, and then, like a loyal and obedient subject,—”

“Thou wouldst still deal in the contraband!”

“Well, well, multiplying idle words is not multiplying gold. The list
of the articles introduced can be forthcoming?”

“It is here, and ready to be examined. But there is a fancy come over
me, Alderman Van Beverout, which, like others of my caprices, thou
knowest must have its way. There should be a witness to our bargain.”

“Judges and juries! Thou forgettest, man, that a clumsy galliot could
sail through the tightest clause, of these extra-legal compacts. The
courts receive the evidence of this sort of traffic, as the grave
receives the dead; to swallow all, and be forgotten.”

“I care not for the courts, and little desire do I feel to enter them.
But the presence of la belle Barbérie may serve to prevent any
misconceptions, that might bring our connexion to a premature close.
Let her be summoned.”

“The girl is altogether ignorant of traffic, and it might unsettle her
opinions of her uncle’s stability. If a man does not maintain credit
within his own doors, how can he expect it in the streets?”

“Many have credit on the highway, who receive none at home. But thou
knowest my humor; no niece—no traffic.”

“Alida is a dutiful and affectionate child, and I would not willingly
disturb her slumbers. Here is the Patroon of Kinderhook, a man who
loves English legislation as little as myself;—he will be less
reluctant to see an honest shilling turned into gold. I will awake him:
no man was ever yet offended at an offer to share in a profitable
adventure.”

“Let h

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