“He ran this way, and leap’d this orchard wall.”
_Shakespeare._
Wilder retired from the field like a defeated man. Accident, or, as he
was willing to term it, the sycophancy of the old mariner, had
counteracted his own little artifice; and he was now left without the
remotest chance of being again favoured with such another opportunity
of effecting his purpose. We shall not, at this period of the
narrative, enter into a detail of the feelings and policy which induced
our adventurer to plot against the apparent interests of those with
whom he had so recently associated himself; it is enough, for our
present object, that the facts themselves should be distinctly set
before the reader.
The return of the disappointed young sailor, towards the town, was
moody and slow. More than once he stopped short in the descent, and
fastened his eyes, for minutes together, on the different vessels in
the harbour. But, in these frequent-halts, no evidence of the
particular interest he took in any one of the ships escaped him.
Perhaps his gaze at the Southern trader was longer, and more earnest,
than at any other; though his eye, at times, wandered curiously, and
even anxiously, over every craft that lay within the shelter of the
haven.
The customary hour for exertion had now arrived, and the sounds of
labour were beginning to be heard, issuing from every quarter of the
place. The songs of the mariners were rising on the calm of the morning
with their peculiar, long-drawn intonations. The ship in the inner
harbour was among the first to furnish this proof of the industry of
her people, and of her approaching departure. It was only as these
movements caught his eye, that Wilder seemed to be thoroughly awakened
from his abstraction, and to pursue his observations with an undivided
mind. He saw the seamen ascend the rigging, in that lazy manner which
is so strongly contrasted by their activity in moments of need; and
here and there a human form was showing itself on the black and
ponderous yards. In a few moments, the fore-topsail fell, from its
compact compass on the yard, into graceful and careless festoons. This,
the attentive Wilder well knew, was, among all trading vessels, the
signal of sailing. In a few more minutes, the lower angles of this
important sail were drawn to the, extremities of the corresponding spar
beneath; and then the heavy yard was seen slowly ascending the mast,
dragging after it the opening folds of the sail, until the latter was
tightened at all its edges, and displayed itself in one broad,
snow-white sheet of canvas. Against this wide surface the light
currents of air fell, and as often receded; the sail bellying and
collapsing in a manner to show that, as yet, they were powerless. At
this point the preparations appeared suspended, as if the mariners,
having thus invited the breeze, were awaiting to see if their
invocation was likely to be attended with success.
It was perhaps but a natural transition for him, who so closely
observed these indications of departure in the ship so often named, to
turn his eyes on the vessel which lay without the fort, in order to
witness the effect so manifest a signal had produced in her, also. But
the closest and the keenest scrutiny could have detected no sign of any
bond of interest between the two. While the firmer was making the
movements just described, the latter lay at her anchors without the
smallest proof that man existed within the mass of her black and
inanimate hull. So quiet and motionless did she seem, that one, who had
never been instructed in the matter, might readily have believed her a
fixture in the sea, some symmetrical and enormous excrescence thrown up
by the waves, with its mazes of lines and pointed fingers, or one of
those fantastic monsters that are believed to exist in the bottom of
the ocean, darkened by the fogs and tempests of ages. But, to the
understanding eye of Wilder, she exhibited a very different spectacle.
He easily saw, through all this apparently drowsy quietude, those signs
of readiness which a seaman only might discover. The cable, instead of
stretching in a long declining line towards the water was “short,” or
nearly “up and down,” as it is equally termed in technical language,
just “scope” enough being allowed out-board to resist the power of the
lively tide, which acted on the deep keel of the vessel. All her boats
were in the water, and so disposed and prepared, as to convince him
they were in a state to be employed in towing, in the shortest possible
time. Not a sail, nor a yard, was out of its place, undergoing those
repairs and examinations which the mariner is wont to make so often,
when lying within the security of a suitable haven, nor was there a
single rope wanting, amid the hundreds which interlaced the blue sky
that formed the background of the picture, that might be necessary, in
bringing every art of facilitating motion into instant use. In short,
the vessel, while seeming least prepared, was most in a condition to
move, or, if necessary, to resort to her means of offence and defence.
The boarding-nettings, it is true, were triced to the rigging, as on
the previous day; but a sufficient apology was to be found for this act
of extreme caution, in the war, which exposed her to attacks from the
light French cruisers, that so often ranged, from the islands of the
West-Indies, along the whole coast of the Continent, and in the
position the ship had taken, without the ordinary defences of the
harbour. In this state, the vessel, to one who knew her real character,
appeared like some beast of prey, or venomous reptile, that lay in an
assumed lethargy, to delude the unconscious victim within the limits of
its leap, or nigh enough to receive the deadly blow of its fangs.
Wilder shook his head, in a manner which said plainly enough how well
he understood this treacherous tranquillity, and continued his walk
towards the town, with the same deliberate step as before. He had
whiled away many minutes unconsciously, and would probably have lost
the reckoning of as many more, had not his attention been suddenly
diverted by a slight touch on the shoulder. Starting at this unexpected
diversion, he turned, and saw, that, in his dilatory progress, he had
been overtaken by the seaman whom he had last seen in that very society
in which he would have given so much to have been included himself.
“Your young limbs should carry you ahead, Master,” said the latter,
when he had succeeded in attracting the attention of Wilder, “like a
‘Mudian going with a clean full, and yet I have fore-reached upon you
with my old legs, in such a manner as to bring us again within hail.”
“Perhaps you enjoy the extraordinary advantage of ‘cutting the waves
with your taffrail,’” returned Wilder, with a sneer. “There can be no
accounting for the head-way one makes, when sailing in that remarkable
manner.”
“I see, brother, you are offended that I followed your motions, though,
in so doing, I did no more than obey a signal of your own setting. Did
you expect an old sea-dog like me, who has stood his watch so long in a
flag-ship, to confess ignorance in any matter that of right belongs to
blue water? How the devil was I to know that there is not some sort of
craft, among the thousands that are getting into fashion, which sails
best stern foremost? They say a ship is modelled from a fish; and, if
such be the case, it is only to make one after the fashion of a crab,
or an oyster, to have the very thing you named.”
“It is well, old man. You have had your reward, I suppose, in a
handsome present from the Admiral’s widow, and you may now lie-by for a
season, without caring much as to the manner in which they build their
ships in future. Pray, do you intend to shape your course much further
down this hill?”
“Until I get to the bottom.”
“I am glad of it, friend, for it is my especial intention to go up it
again. As we say at sea, when our conversation is ended, ‘A good time
to you!’”
The old seaman laughed, in his chuckling manner, when he saw the young
man turn abruptly on his heel, and begin to retrace the very ground
along which he had just before descended.
“Ah! you have never sailed with a Rear-Admiral,” he said, as he
continued his own course in the former direction, picking his way with
a care suited to his age and infirmities. “No, there is no getting the
finish, even at sea, without a cruise or two under a flag, and that at
the mizzen, too!”
“Intolerable old hypocrite!” muttered Wilder between his teeth. “The
rascal has seen better days, and is now perverting his knowledge to
juggle a foolish woman, to his profit. I am well quit of the knave,
who, I dare say, has adopted lying for his trade, now labour is
unproductive. I will go back The coast is quite clear, and who can say
what may happen next?”
Most of the foregoing paragraph was actually uttered in the suppressed
manner already described, while the rest was merely meditated, which,
considering the fact that our adventurer had no auditor, was quite as
well as if he had spoken it through a trumpet. The expectation thus
vaguely expressed, however, was not likely to be soon realized. Wilder
sauntered up the hill, endeavouring to assume the unconcerned air of an
idler, if by chance his return should excite attention; but, though he
lingered long in open view of the windows of Mrs de Lacey’s villa, he
was not able to catch another glimpse of its tenants. There were very
evident symptoms of the approaching journey, in the trunks and packages
that left the building for the town, and in the hurried and busy manner
of the few servants that he occasionally saw; but it would seem that
the principal personages of the establishment had withdrawn into the
secret recesses of the building, probably for the very natural purpose
of confidential communion and affectionate leave-taking. He was
turning, vexed and disappointed, from his anxious and fruitless watch,
when he once more heard female voices on the inner side of the low wall
against which he had been leaning. The sounds approached; nor was it
long before his quick ears again recognized the musical voice of
Gertrude.
“It is tormenting ourselves, without sufficient reason, my dear Madam,”
she said, as the speakers drew sufficiently nigh to be distinctly
overheard, “to allow any thing that may have fallen from such a—such an
individual, to make the slightest impression.”
“I feel the justice of what you say, my love,” returned the mournful
voice of her governess, “and yet am I so weak as to be unable entirely
to shake off a sort of superstitious feeling on this subject. Gertrude,
would you not wish to see that youth again?”
“Me, Ma’am!” exclaimed her élève, in a sort of alarm. “Why should you,
or I, wish to see an utter stranger again? and one so low—not low
perhaps—but one who is surely not altogether a very suitable companion
for”—
“Well-born ladies, you would say. And why do you imagine the young man
to be so much our inferior?”
Wilder thought there was a melody in the intonations of the youthful
voice of the maiden, which in some measure excused the personality, as
she answered.
“I am certainly not so fastidious in my notions of birth and station as
aunt de Lacey,” she said, laughing; “but I should forget some of your
own instructions, dear Mrs Wyllys, did I not feel that education and
manners make a sensible difference in the opinions and characters of
all us poor mortals.”
“Very true, my child. But I confess I saw or heard nothing that induces
me to believe the young man, of whom we are speaking, either uneducated
or vulgar. On the contrary, his language and pronunciation were those
of a gentleman, and his air was quite suited to his utterance. He had
the frank and simple manner of his profession; but you are not now to
learn that youths of the first families in the provinces, or even in
the kingdom, are often placed in the service of the marine.”
“But they are officers, dear Madam: this—this individual wore the dress
of a common mariner.”
“Not altogether. It was finer in its quality, and more tasteful in its
fashion, than is customary. I have known Admirals do the same in their
moments of relaxation. Sailors of condition often love to carry about
them the testimonials of their profession, without any of the trappings
of their rank.”
“You then think he was an officer—perhaps in the King’s service?”
“He might well have been so, though the fact, that there is no cruiser
in the port, would seem to contradict it. But it was not so trifling a
circumstance that awakened the unaccountable interest that I feel.
Gertrude, my love, it was my fortune to have been much with seamen in
early life. I seldom see one of that age, and of that spirited and
manly mien, without feeling emotion. But I tire you; let us talk of
other things.”
“Not in the least, dear Madam,” Gertrude hurriedly interrupted. “Since
you think the stranger a gentleman, there can be no harm—that is, it is
not quite so improper, I believe—to speak of him. Can there then be the
danger he would make us think in trusting ourselves in a ship of which
we have so good a report?”
“There was a strange, I had almost said wild, admixture of irony and
concern in his manner, that is inexplicable! He certainly uttered
nonsense part of the time: but, then, he did not appear to do it
without a serious object. Gertrude, you are not as familiar with
nautical expressions as myself: and perhaps you are ignorant that your
good aunt, in her admiration of a profession that she has certainly a
right to love, sometimes makes”——
“I know it—I know it; at least I often think so,” the other
interrupted, in a manner which plainly manifested that she found no
pleasure in dwelling on the disagreeable subject. “It was exceedingly
presuming Madam, in a stranger, however, to amuse himself, if he did
it, with so amiable and so trivial a weakness, if indeed weakness it
be.”
“It was,” Mrs Wyllys steadily continued—she having, very evidently,
such other matter in her thoughts as to be a little inattentive to the
sensitive feelings of her companion;—“and yet he did not appear to me
like one of those empty minds that find a pleasure in exposing the
follies of others. You may remember, Gertrude, that yesterday, while at
the ruin, Mrs de Lacey made some remarks expressive of her admiration
of a ship under sail.”
“Yes, yes, I remember them,” said the niece, a little impatiently.
“One of her terms was particularly incorrect, as I happened to know
from my own familiarity with the language of sailors.”
“I thought as much, by the expression of your eye,” returned Gertrude;
“but”—
“Listen, my love. It certainly was not remarkable that a lady should
make a trifling error in the use of so peculiar a language, but it is
singular that a seaman himself should commit the same fault in
precisely the same words. This did the youth of whom we are speaking;
and, what is no less surprising the old man assented to the same, just
as if they had been correctly uttered.”
“Perhaps,” said Gertrude, in a low tone, “they may have heard, that
attachment to this description of conversation is a foible of Mrs de
Lacey. I am sure, after this, dear Madam, you cannot any longer
consider the stranger a gentleman!”
“I should think no more about it, love, were it not for a feeling I can
neither account for nor define. I would I could again see him!”
A slight exclamation from her companion interrupted her words; and, the
next instant, the subject of her thoughts leaped the wall, apparently
in quest of the rattan that had fallen at the feet of Gertrude, and
occasioned her alarm. After apologizing for his intrusion on the
private grounds of Mrs de Lacey, and recovering his lost property,
Wilder was slowly preparing to retire, as if nothing had happened.
There was a softness and delicacy in his manner during the first moment
of his appearance, which was probably intended to convince the younger
of the ladies that he was not entirely without some claims to the title
she had so recently denied him, and which was certainly not without its
effect. The countenance of Mrs Wyllys was pale, and her lip quivered,
though the steadiness of her voice proved it was not with alarm, as she
hastily said,—“Remain a moment, sir, if need does not require your
presence elsewhere. There is something so remarkable in this meeting,
that I could wish to improve it.”
Wilder bowed, and again faced the ladies, whom he had just been about
to quit, like one who felt he had no right to intrude a moment longer
than had been necessary to recover that which had been lost by his
pretended awkwardness. When Mrs Wyllys found that her wish was so
unexpectedly realized, she hesitated as to the manner in which she
should next proceed.
“I have been thus bold, sir,” she said, in some embarrassment, “on
account of the opinion you so lately expressed concerning the vessel
which now lies ready to put to sea, the instant, she is favoured with a
wind.”
“‘The Royal Caroline?’” Wilder carelessly replied.
“That is her name, I believe.”
“I hope, Madam, that nothing which I have said,” he hastily continued,
“will have an effect to prejudice you against the ship. I will pledge
myself that she is made of excellent materials, and then I have not the
least doubt but she is very ably commanded.”
“And yet have you not hesitated to say, that you consider a passage in
this very vessel more dangerous than one in any other ship that will
probably leave a port of the Provinces in many months to come.”
“I did,” answered Wilder, with a manner not to be mistaken.
“Will you explain your reasons for this opinion?”
“If I remember rightly, I gave them to the lady whom I had the honour
to see an hour ago.”
“That individual, sir, is no longer here,” was the grave reply of
Wyllys; “neither is she to trust her person in the vessel. This young
lady and myself, with our attendants, will be the only passengers.”
“I understood it so,” returned Wilder, keeping his thoughtful gaze
riveted on the speaking countenance of the deeply interested Gertrude.
“And, now that there is no apprehension of any mistake, may I ask you
to repeat the reasons why you think there will be danger in embarking
in the ‘Royal Caroline?’”
Wilder started, and even had the grace to colour, as he met the calm
and attentive look of Mrs Wyllys’s searching, but placid eye.
“You would not have me repeat, Madam,” he stammered, “what I have
already said on the subject?”
“I would not, sir; once will suffice for such an explanation; still am
I persuaded you have other reasons for your words.”
“It is exceedingly difficult for a seaman to speak of ships in any
other than technical language, which must be the next thing to being
unintelligible to one of your sex and condition. You have never been at
sea, Madam?”
“Very often, sir.”
“Then may I hope, possibly, to make myself understood. You must be
conscious, Madam, that no small part of the safety of a ship depends on
the very material point of keeping her right side uppermost sailors
call it ‘making her stand up.’ Now I need not say, I am quite sure, to
a lady of your intelligence, that, if the ‘Caroline’ fall on her beam
there will be imminent hazard to all on board.”
“Nothing can be clearer; but would not the same risk be incurred in any
other vessel?”
“Without doubt, if any other vessel should trip. But I have pursued my
profession for many years, without meeting with such a misfortune, but
once. Then, the fastenings of the bowsprit”—
“Are good as ever came from the hand of rigger,” said a voice behind
them.
The whole party turned; and beheld, at a little distance, the old
seaman already introduced, mounted on some object on the other side of
the wall, against which he was very coolly leaning, and whence he
overlooked the whole of the interior of the grounds.
“I have been at the water side to look at the boat, at the wish of
Madam de Lacey, the widow of my late noble Commander and Admiral; and,
let other men think as they may, I am ready to swear that the ‘Royal
Caroline’ has as well secured a bowsprit as any ship that carries the
British flag! Ay, nor is that all I will say in her favour; she is
throughout neatly and lightly sparred, and has no more of a wall-side
than the walls of yonder church tumble-home. I am an old man, and my
reckoning has got to the last leaf of the log-book; therefore it is
little interest that I have, or can have, in this brig or that
schooner, but this much will I say, which is, that it is just as
wicked, and as little likely to be forgiven, to speak scandal of a
wholesome and stout ship, as it is to talk amiss of mortal Christian.”
The old man spoke with energy, and a great show of honest indignation,
which did not fail to make an impression on the ladies, at the same
time that it brought certain ungrateful admonitions to the conscience
of the understanding Wilder.
“You perceive, sir,” said Mrs Wyllys, after waiting in vain for the
reply of the young seaman, “that it is very possible for two men, of
equal advantages, to disagree on a professional point. Which am I to
believe?”
“Whichever your own excellent sense should tell you is most likely to
be correct. I repeat, and in a sincerity to whose truth I call Heaven
to witness, that no mother or sister of mine should, with my consent,
embark in the ‘Caroline.’”
“This is incomprehensible!” said Mrs Wyllys, turning to Gertrude, and
speaking only for her ear. “My reason tells me we have been trifled
with by this young man; and yet are his protestations so earnest, and
apparently so sincere, that I cannot shake off the impression they have
made. To which of the two, my love, do you feel most inclined to yield
your credence?”
“You know how very ignorant I am, dear Madam, of all these things,”
said Gertrude, dropping her eyes to the faded sprig she was plucking;
“but, to me, that old wretch has a very presuming and vicious look.”
“You then think the younger most entitled to our belief?”
“Why not; since you, also, think he is a gentleman?”
“I know not that his superior situation in life entitles him to greater
credit. Men often obtain such advantages only to abuse them.—I am
afraid, sir,” continued Mrs Wyllys, turning to the expecting Wilder,
“that unless you see fit to be more frank, we shall be compelled to
refuse you our faith, and still persevere in our intention to profit,
by the opportunity of the ‘Royal Caroline,’ to get to the Carolinas.”
“From the bottom of my heart, Madam, do I regret the determination.”
“It may still be in your power to change it, by being explicit.”
Wilder appeared to muse, and once or twice his lips moved, as if he
were about to speak. Mrs Wyllys and Gertrude awaited his intentions
with intense interest; but, after a long and seemingly hesitating
pause, he disappointed both, by saying,—
“I am sorry that I have not the ability to make myself better
understood. It can only be the fault of my dullness; for I again affirm
that the danger is as apparent to my eyes as the sun at noon day.”
“Then we must continue blind, sir,” returned Mrs Wyllys, with a cold
salute. “I thank you for your good and kind intentions, but you cannot
blame us for not consenting to follow advice which is buried in so much
obscurity. Although in our own grounds, we shall be pardoned the
rudeness of leaving you. The hour appointed for our departure has now
arrived.”
Wilder returned the grave bow of Mrs Wyllys with one quite as formal as
her own; though he bent with greater grace, and with more cordiality,
to the deep but hurried curtesy of Gertrude Grayson. He remained in the
precise spot, however, in which they left him, until he saw them enter
the villa; and he even fancied he could catch the anxious expression of
another timid glance which the latter threw in his direction, as her
light form appeared to float from before his sight. Placing one hand on
the wall, the young sailor then leaped into the highway. As his feet
struck the ground, the slight shock seemed to awake him from his
abstraction, and he became conscious that he stood within six feet of
the old mariner, who had now twice stepped so rudely between him and
the object he had so much at heart, The latter did not allow him time
to give utterance to his disappointment; for he was the first himself
to speak.
“Come, brother,” he said, in friendly, confidential tones, and shaking
his head, like one who wished to show to his companion that he was
aware of the deception he had attempted to practise; “come, brother,
you have stood far enough on this tack, and it is time to try another.
Ay, I’ve been young myself in my time, and I know what a hard matter it
is to give the devil a wide birth, when there is fun to be found in
sailing in his company: But old age brings us to our reckonings; and,
when the life is getting on short allowance with a poor fellow, he
begins to think of being sparing of his tricks, just as water is saved
in a ship, when the calms set in, after it has been spilt about decks
like rain, for weeks and months on end. Thought comes with gray hairs,
and no one is the worse for providing a little of it among his other
small stores.”
“I had hoped, when I gave you the bottom of the hill, and took the top
myself,” returned Wilder, without even deigning to look at his
disagreeable companion, “that we had parted company for ever. As you
seem, however, to prefer the high ground, I leave you to enjoy it at
your leisure; I shall descend into the town.”
The old man shuffled after him, with a gait that rendered it difficult
for Wilder, who was by this time in a fast walk, to outstrip him,
without resorting to the undignified expedient of an actual flight.
Vexed alike with himself and his tormentor, he was tempted to offer
some violence to the latter; and then, recalled to his reccollection by
the dangerous impulse he moderated his pace, and continued his route
with a calm determination to be superior to any emotions that such a
pitiful object could excite.
“You were going under such a press of sail, young Master,” said the
stubborn old mariner, who still kept a pace or two in his rear, “that I
had to set every thing to hold way with you; but you now seem to be
getting reasonable, and we may as well lighten the passage by a little
profitable talk. You had nearly made the oldish lady believe the good
ship ‘Royal Caroline’ was the flying Dutchman!”
“And why did you see fit to undeceive her?” bluntly demanded Wilder.
“Would you have a man, who has followed blue water fifty years,
scandalize wood and iron after so wild a manner? The character of a
ship is as dear to an old sea-dog, as the character of his wife or his
sweetheart.”
“Hark ye, friend; you live, I suppose, like other people, by eating and
drinking?”
“A little of the first, and a good deal of the last,” returned the
other, with a chuckle.
“And you get both, like most seaman, by hard work, great risk, and the
severest exposure?”
“Hum! ‘Making our money like horses, and spending it like asses!’—that
is said to be the way with us all.”
“Now, then, have you an opportunity of making some with less labour;
you may spend it to suit your own fancy. Will you engage in my service
for a few hours, with this for your bounty, and as much more for wages,
provided you deal honestly?”
The old man stretched out a hand, and took the guinea which Wilder had
showed over his shoulder, without appearing to deem it at all necessary
to face his recruit.
“It’s no sham!” said the latter, stopping to ring the metal on a stone.
“’Tis gold, as pure as ever came from the Mint.”
The other very coolly pocketed the coin; and then, with a certain
hardened and decided way, as if he were now ready for any thing, he
demanded,—
“What hen-roost am I to rob for this?”
“You are to do no such pitiful act; you have only to perform a little
of that which, I fancy, you are no stranger to: Can you keep a false
log?”
“Ay; and swear to it, on occasion. I understand you. You are tired of
twisting the truth like a new laid rope, and you wish to turn the job
over to me.”
“Something so. You must unsay all you have said concerning yonder ship;
and, as you have had running enough to get on the weather-side of Mrs
de Lacey, you must improve your advantage, by making matters a little
worse than I have represented them to be. Tell me, that I may judge of
your qualifications, did you in truth, ever sail with the worthy
Rear-Admiral?”
“As I am an honest and religious Christian, I never heard of the honest
old man before yesterday. Oh! you may trust me in these matters! I am
no likely to spoil a history for want of facts.”
“I think you will do. Now listen to my plan.”—
“Stop, worthy messmate,” interrupted the other: “‘Stones can hear,’
they say on shore: we sailors know that the pumps have ears on board a
ship; have you ever seen such a place as the ‘Foul Anchor’ tavern, in
this town?”
“I have been there.”
“I hope you like it well enough to go again. Here we will part. You
shall haul on the wind, being the lightest sailer, and make a stretch
or two among these houses, until you are well to windward of yonder
church. You will then have plain sailing down upon hearty Joe Joram’s,
where is to be found as snug an anchorage, for an honest trader, as at
any inn in the Colonies. I will keep away down this hill, and,
considering the difference in our rate of sailing, we shall not be long
after one another in port.”
“And what is to be gained by so much manoeuvring? Can you listen to
nothing which is not steeped in rum?”
“You offend me by the word. You shall see what it is to send a sober
messenger on your errands, when the time comes. But, suppose we are
seen speaking to each other on the highway—why, as you are in such low
repute just now, I shall lose my character with the ladies altogether.”
“There may be reason in that. Hasten, then to meet me; for, as they
spoke of embarking soon, there is not a minute to lose.”
“No fear of their breaking ground so suddenly,” returned the old man,
holding the palm of his hand above his head to catch the wind. “There
is not yet air enough to cool the burning cheeks of that young beauty;
and, depend on it, the signal will not be given to them until the sea
breeze is fairly come in.”
Wilder waved his hand, and stepped lightly along the road the other had
indicated to him, ruminating on the figure which the fresh and youthful
charms of Gertrude had extorted from one even as old and as coarse as
his new ally. His companion followed his person for a moment, with an
amused look, and an ironical cast of the eye; and then he also
quickened his pace, in order to reach the place of rendezvous in
sufficient season.