CHAPTER SECOND.

Walter Strale was of German descent; his parents, as we have seen,

resided for a time in Virginia, and it was during this period that

Walter was born. When he was about fourteen years of age, his father

determined to remove to France, and establish a mercantile house in

Paris. Mr. Strale, however, was unwilling to educate his son in that

gay metropolis; and though by no means strict in matters of religion,

he felt a deep solicitude that the morals of his child might be

preserved. It was at one time his purpose to leave him in Virginia,

among some highly valued and judicious friends; but as the means of

education were very imperfect in that region, he wisely determined

to send him to Boston, where he knew his studies would be carefully

superintended, and his morals effectually guarded.

It was difficult, after all, to understand fully the motives of Mr.

Strale, in sending his son to so rigid a school of morals. He was a

high churchman, and had a thorough contempt for what he called the

superstitions and austerities of the Puritans. It is probable the

extremely volatile temper of Walter made it necessary to place him

under careful restraints and a rigid discipline, and Mr. Strale, who

was a man of excellent sense, perceiving the advantages of a New

England education, was willing, for the sake of its fidelity, to

overlook its seeming bigotry and austerity; for with all his contempt

for the Puritan sect, he was ready to acknowledge, that on the score of

integrity and good morals, no people on earth could rival them.

On the morning of the twenty-fourth of June, 1685, Walter embarked at

James River, on board the _Sea Gull_, a beautiful schooner, under the

command of Capt. Wing, who was a shrewd trader, as well as a skilful

seaman, and had for some time past kept up a regular intercourse

between Virginia and the New England colonies. He was of course well

known to Mr. Strale, who was entirely satisfied in committing Walter

to his care. Mrs. Strale was careful to furnish, her son with every

convenience and luxury which maternal care could provide, and his

father sent with him a negro servant, named Pompey, the most faithful

of all his domestics, and who might in an important sense be called the

steward of his house: he presided over sundry departments of domestic

economy, and no one on the plantation was more jealous of his rights,

or displayed in a higher degree, the pride and authority of station;

yet Pompey professed to be a thorough democrat, and insisted that

all men were born free and equal: he could never solve the problems

and mathematics of slavery, yet as he required the strict obedience

of those under his control, he thought it no more than right to be

submissive, in his turn, to the mandates and discipline of his master.

Pompey's theory of universal liberty exposed him to much censure from

his fellow slaves, for he was in fact a tyrant on as large a scale

as circumstances would permit. Whenever he had a chance to exercise

his love of power, Pompey assumed the kingly prerogative, and claimed

for his opinions the supremacy of law; if any one questioned his

authority, or chose to plead his natural rights, Pompey assured him

that democracy always consulted the general good, and as power must

reside somewhere, it was natural to suppose that he who possessed it

knew best how and when it was proper to exercise it.

There was another circumstance which gave Pompey a little extra

consequence: in consideration of his fidelity, he was assured that if

he continued faithful till Master Walter was educated, he should then

receive his freedom. This period was now approaching, and he thought

it no harm to take a little of his future liberty in advance; but he

often misjudged in regard to the extent of his privilege, and was of

course subjected to some slight rebukes, which occasionally left marks

on his person, not at all to his credit. If there was any thing to

which Pompey had a mortal aversion, it was to the cane or the lash:

not, as he said, that he minded the pain,--but they always disfigured a

gentleman, and his freedom would not be worth having, if he carried on

his person such tokens of his vassalage and debasement.

The first impressions of a sea life are uniformly disagreeable. The

pleasant dreams which gather over the mind, in its views of distant

countries, changing latitudes, and the thousand forms of beauty which

flit through the air, or skim over the water, are dispelled by a

single hour's experience, and perish at the first touches of reality.

It was so with Strale. He had no proper notion of the unsettled life

of a sailor: the splendid visions which hung over the future, were

soon scattered by the fatal sea-sickness, and the retreating phantoms

thronged around the scenes of home, and invested every locality with

the same beauty which at first beckoned him away; but there was no hope

of return: the fine southern breezes were wafting him to a strange

land, of which he had few correct notions, and whose customs and

habits, however repugnant to his feelings, must be adopted as his own.

For two days our little hero was struggling with all the demons of

sea-sickness, homesickness, and the remembrances of past enjoyments;

but his mind was too buoyant to continue long under this depression. On

the third day he appeared on deck; and as the graceful schooner with

fine breezes and under a cloud of canvass was gliding on her path, the

bright and the beautiful again adorned the prospect, and restored the

pleasures which had been so suddenly and rudely dispersed. He was now

able to climb the mast, and take his post on its highest elevation.

Walter was always on the look-out for adventure, and the novelties of

the sea began to occupy his mind, and invest the objects around him

with unwonted attractions. Moreover, Capt. Wing, like other seamen,

was graphic in his descriptions of hair-breadth escapes, and was never

at a loss for some real or invented tale of wonders. This was an

unfailing source of amusement, and Walter listened to his narratives

with enthusiasm and delight: he longed for some experience in the same

school; he wished to be familiar with dangers, to conquer whatever

element might oppose him, and to be in all respects the master of his

own destiny.

'There is no character like that of a sailor, Walter,' said Capt. Wing,

as they were sitting together near the companion-way, after dinner; 'he

is a cook, a seamstress, a washwoman, a gentleman, a philosopher, and

an astronomer.'

'You judge from your own crew,' said Walter, 'for you have trained

them to all these different characters; but as to the mass of seamen,

you might safely add, they are spendthrifts, drunkards, and fools.'

'You are an ignorant boy, Strale. Do you not know there are as many

spendthrifts, rowdies, and scoundrels, on shore, in proportion to their

numbers, as on the sea? They have a better chance to keep out of sight,

and there is a little more refinement in their vices; but after all,

the sailor has more good qualities to counterbalance his bad ones:

he is grievously slandered by all sorts of men; as a body they are

faithful, obedient, patient and generous, and when you take into view

their sufferings and temptations, it is wonderful they do so well.'

'The name of a sailor was once full of terror to me,' returned Walter,

'for in every narrative of piracy I have read, they are fearful agents,

and seem to commit murder with as little scrapie as if it were lawful

business.'

'So you have judged of the sailor's character from the worst portraits

you can find. This is not fair, Walter: if you take this method with

landsmen, you will dread them as much as you do the sailor. What do

you think of those land pirates, who decoy seamen into their dens of

wickedness, and then turn them houseless and penniless upon the world?

There are good and bad in all classes: when you are older, you will do

justice to the sailor.'

'I would do it now, Capt. Wing. My judgment was hasty and my language

rash; my observation must be more extended before I can be a competent

judge in this matter; but in the variety of character you have given

the sailor, you have placed things so much at opposites, that I must

ask you to unriddle the paradox.'

'The necessities of the sailor,' returned Capt. Wing, 'have made

him a little of every thing. You can well enough understand why he

acts the tailor or the cook, but you cannot connect these humble

offices with the higher qualities of the gentleman and philosopher.

Now here is Le Moine--our French steward; no one can be more skilful

in his office, and yet that lad can tell you the name of every

prominent constellation, and with the proper instruments he can

measure his latitude with unfailing accuracy. The same is true of

many other seamen, upon whom a careless observer might turn an eye of

indifference or contempt. But look, Walter! the clouds are heaving up

in the west; we shall have a thunder squall, and you will now see how

the Sea Gull dances on the water. That is the black flag,' continued

Wing, addressing Roberts, the mate; 'there are pirates in the clouds

as well as on the water, and old Neptune gets all the plunder; but the

wind is fair, and we can run half an hour before we are overhauled.'

'It grows dark already, and the wind lulls,' said Roberts; 'this

sky-scraper will board us directly.'

'Let him come,' said Wing; 'he is one of my old acquaintance, but his

dress is darker than usual, and he looks more rough and surly than is

his wont.'

The wind had now died away, and there was a perfect calm on the water;

the Sea Gull was flapping her wings, but had no onward motion. In a

few moments the cloud suddenly expanded, and stretched a curtain of

terrific blackness from the western limit of the horizon to the extreme

north; the air was now excessively sultry, and an ominous silence and

gloom hung over the water; it was presently interrupted by a sharp

flash of lightning, followed by a deafening peal of thunder. 'Get up

the chain, Mr. Roberts,' said Wing; 'the lightning will soon be in

chase of us, and we must throw it overboard.' The chain was instantly

run up to the mast head, and its lower extremity hung over the

tafferel; the sails were furled, except the foresail, which was closely

reefed, and under a light breeze the schooner again made some headway.

The whole atmosphere was now veiled in blackness, and as if conscious

that some terrible convulsion was at hand, the crew of the schooner

stood at their posts in perfect silence, while Capt. Wing paced the

deck, with that hurried and tremulous motion, which indicated the

anxiety that oppressed him. A few drops of rain now fell on the deck

and the surrounding ocean. Another and more vivid gleam of lightning,

followed by rapid and still fiercer flashes, announced that the crisis

was at hand. The next moment the little Sea Gull was enveloped in a

blaze of lurid fire, and she staggered under a shock, which but for the

chain at the mast head, would have sent her to the bottom; at the same

moment, the roar of the hurricane was heard in the distance, and before

the panic occasioned by the lightning had subsided, the foresail was

torn from the bolt ropes, and scattered in shreds upon the sea,--and

in a cloud of tempest and foam, the Sea Gull was rushing through the

water, at the rate of ten knots per hour. The sea and sky were now

mingled together in wild and terrible uproar; the constant blaze of

lightning, the rapid peals of thunder, the trembling and creaking of

the schooner as she dashed on her way, presented a scene which startled

and overawed even her daring and experienced commander. But the crisis

was soon past, and in the course of forty minutes the violence of the

squall was over, and before sunset the Sea Gull, with no other damage

than the loss of her foresail, was gliding over the water, with a

pleasant breeze from the south.

'I am willing to grapple with anything but lightning,' said Wing,

'thanks to the chain we sent up; but for that, Walter, we should have

slept to night in the ocean.'

'I must go beyond second causes, Capt. Wing, for such a wonderful

deliverance as this; our gratitude is due to a higher Power, and I

would never forget it.'

'A sailor's gratitude, Walter, does not often express itself in words,

but its impulses are not the less strong because they are invisible.'

'They are transient, however,' said Walter, 'and the occasion that

gives them birth is forgotten as a dream. Gratitude must be a steady

principle, and not a blind emotion; its fruits must be visible in the

life.'

'We sailors,' said Wing, 'are not preachers; we do not study the items

of theology; if we did, we should be poor navigators. You are a boy,

Strale, and have seen little of the world; a few more tramps over its

rough surface, and you will think nothing of these narrow escapes.'

Walter did not reply, but resting on the tafferel, and casting his eye

over the fading light of a gorgeous sunset, he traced the beautiful

images of a better land, and breathed an earnest prayer that he might

be fitted to enter at last upon its pure and everlasting felicities.

No other incident of importance occurred, and on the evening of

the third of July, the schooner was moored by the side of a little

island off the harbor of Boston. The boat landed Walter and some of

the crew by the side of a fine rivulet which flowed from the rock.

The quiet evening soon gathered around, and was occupied in grateful

recollections of the past, and bright anticipations of the morrow. The

antiquary may be interested to know that all which remains of that

green spot where Roberts and the young Virginian rambled by moonlight,

may be found in the rocks now called 'the Hardings.'

At sunrise on the following morning, the fourth of July, the Sea Gull

was again under way. The day was fine, with a clear sky and a soft

southern breeze. The schooner glided among the beautiful islands of the

inner harbor, which were then filled with trees, and vocal with the

songs of birds. It was not, as now, covered by vessels of every name

and from every clime, but along its still waters the little galley with

oars, the fisherman's skiff, and now and then the white pinions of some

taller bark, were seen to move over its silence and solitude; neither

did that halo of glory which now circles the birth-day of freedom

kindle the patriot's ardor; nor did the stripes and stars wave on the

green hills, nor the merry peal of bells go up with the rejoicings of

a liberated nation; yet the elements of all this glory were there, and

many a prophetic eye even then discerned its dawn upon the mystic

horizon of the future.

As the vessel approached the town, the eye of Walter roamed in delight

among the varied scenery which adorned the prospect. The islands with

their forests, the bay, the blue mountains on the left, were reposing

in the beauty of the morning, and the youthful fancy of Strale threw

around them a thousand visions of future bliss. On the west the tower

of Harvard Hall rose in the distance, shadowing forth that eminence

and literary fame, which have since adorned that noble institution.

In a few moments, the town with its white edifices, the spires of its

churches, its trees and gardens, which had for some time appeared in

beautiful outline, were displayed in distinct groups and figures; and

Walter, who had till then seen only a few scattered habitations, gazed

with intense gratification on the miniature city, as it stretched its

little outposts, its convenient and spacious wharf, its thirty sail of

merchantmen and coasters, and its eight hundred buildings, with all the

attractions of novelty on his eye.

The beauty of the day, the mild breathings of summer, and the carol

of innumerable birds, were but the emblems of that sublimer glory,

which in after times rested on the birth-day of freedom. The fathers

of those times sleep in the dust. The sons, too, are silent as the

fathers; but on the ears of the third generation the hymn of liberty

poured its strains of gladness, and the name of Washington was borne on

every breeze and enshrined in every patriot's heart. That name will be

revered as long as Virtue herself shall be loved and honored; and in

any future struggle for liberty, his grateful country will interweave

with every fold of her star spangled banner, the beautiful motto:

'He led the fathers and inspires the sons.'

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