“The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient;—three thousand, ducats;—I
think I may take his bond.”
_Merchant of Venice._
As the day advanced, the appearances of a fresh sea breeze setting in
gradually grew stronger; and, with the increase of the wind, were to be
seen all the symptoms of an intention to leave the harbour on the part
of the Bristol trader. The sailing of a large ship was an event of much
more importance in an American port, sixty years ago, than at the
present hour, when a score is frequently seen to arrive and depart from
one haven in a single day. Although claiming to be inhabitants of one
of the principal towns of the colony, the good people of Newport did
not witness the movements on board the “Caroline” with that species of
indolent regard which is the fruit of satiety in sights as well as in
graver things, and with which, in the course of time, the evolutions of
even a fleet come to be contemplated On the contrary, the wharves were
crowded with boys, and indeed with idlers of every growth. Even many of
the more considerate and industrious of the citizens were seen
loosening the close grasp they usually kept on the precious minutes,
and allowing them to escape uncounted, though not entirely unheeded, as
they yielded to the ascendency of curiosity over interest, and strayed
from their shops, and their work-yards, to gaze upon the noble
spectacle of a moving ship.
The tardy manner in which the crew of the “Caroline” made their
preparations, however, exhausted the patience of more than one
time-saving citizen. Quite as many of the better sort of the spectators
had left the wharves as still remained, and yet the vessel spread to
the breeze but the solitary sheet of canvas which has been already
named. Instead of answering the wishes of hundreds of weary eyes, the
noble ship was seen sheering about her anchor, inclining from the
passing wind, as her bows were alternately turned to the right and to
the left, like a restless courser restrained by the grasp of the groom,
chafing his bit, and with difficulty keeping those limbs upon the earth
with which he is shortly to bound around the ring. After more than an
hour of unaccountable delay, a rumour was spread among the crowd that
an accident had occurred, by which some important individual, belonging
to the complement of the vessel, was severely injured. But this rumour
passed away also, and was nearly forgotten, when a sheet of flame was
seen issuing from a bow-port of the “Caroline,” driving before it a
cloud of curling and mounting smoke, and which was succeeded by the
instant roar of a discharge of artillery. A bustle, like that which
usually precedes the immediate announcement of any long attended event,
took place among the weary expectants on the land, and every one now
felt certain, that, what ever might have occurred, it was settled that
the ship should proceed.
Of all this delay, the several movements on board, the subsequent
signal of sailing, and of the impatience in the crowd, Wilder had been
a grave and close observer. Posted with his back against the upright
fluke of a condemned anchor, on a wharf a little apart from that
occupied by most of the other spectators, he had remained an hour in
the same position scarcely bending his look to his right hand or to his
left. When the gun was fired he started, not with the nervous impulse
which had made a hundred others do precisely the same thing, but to
turn an anxious and rapid glance along the streets that came within the
range of his eye. From this hasty and uneasy examination, he soon
returned into his former reclining posture, though the wandering of his
glances and the whole expression of his meaning countenance would have
told an observer that some event, to which the young manner looked
forward with excessive interest, was on the eve of its consummation As
minute after minute, however, rolled by, his composure was gradually
restored, and a smile of satisfaction lighted his features, while his
lips moved like those of a man who expressed his pleasure in a
soliloquy. It was in the midst of these agreeable meditations, that the
sound of many voices met his ears; and, turning, he saw a large party
within a few yards of where he stood. He was not slow to detect among
them the forms of Mrs Wyllys and Gertrude, attired in such a manner as
to leave no doubt that they were at length on the eve of embarking.
A cloud, driving before the sun, does not produce a greater change in
the aspect of the earth, than was wrought in the expression of Wilder’s
countenance by this unexpected sight. He was just implicitly relying on
the success of an artifice, which though sufficiently shallow, he
flattered himself was deep enough to act on the timidity and credulity
of woman; and, now, was he suddenly awoke from his self-gratulation, to
prove the utter disappointment of his hopes. Muttering a suppressed but
deep execration against the perfidy of his confederate, he shrunk as
much as possible behind the fluke of the anchor, and fastened his eyes
sullenly on the ship.
The party which accompanied the travellers to the water side was, like
all other parties made to take leave of valued friends, taciturn and
restless. Those who spoke, did so with a rapid and impatient utterance,
as though they wished to hurry the very separation they regretted; and
the features of those who said nothing looked full of meaning. Wilder
heard several affectionate and warm-hearted wishes given, and promises
extorted, from youthful voices, all of which were answered in the soft
and mournful tones of Gertrude, and yet he obstinately refused to bend
even a stolen look in the direction of the speakers.
At length, a footstep, within a few feet of him, induced a hasty glance
aside. His eye met that of Mrs Wyllys. The lady started, as well as our
young mariner, at the sudden recognition; but, recovering her
self-possession, she observed, with admirable coolness,—
“You perceive, sir, that we are not to be deterred from an enterprise
once undertaken, by ordinary dangers.”
“I hope you may not have reason, Madam, to repent your courage.”
A short, but painfully thoughtful pause succeeded, on the part of Mrs
Wyllys. Casting a look behind her, in order to ascertain that she was
not overheard, she drew a step nigher to the youth, and said, in a
voice even lower than before,—
“It is not yet too late: Give me but the shadow of a reason for what
you have said, and I will wait for another ship. My feelings are
foolishly inclined to believe you, young man, though my judgment tells
me there is but too much probability that you trifle with our womanish
fears.”
“Trifle! On such a matter I would trifle with none of your sex; and
least of all with you!”
“This is extraordinary! For a stranger it is inexplicable Have you a
fact, or a reason, which I can plead to the friends of my young
charge?”
“You know them already.”
“Then, sir, am I compelled, against my will, to believe your motive is
one that you have some powerful considerations for wishing to conceal,”
coolly returned the disappointed and even mortified governess “For your
own sake, I hope it is not unworthy I thank you for all that is well
intended; if you have spoken aught which is otherwise, I forgive it.”
They parted, with the restraint of people who feel that distrust exists
between them. Wilder again shrunk behind his cover, maintaining a proud
position and a countenance that was grave to austerity. His situation,
however, compelled him to become an auditor of most of what was now
said.
The principal speaker, as was meet on such an occasion was Mrs de
Lacey, whose voice was often raised in sage admonitions and
professional opinions blended in a manner that all would admire, though
none of her sex, but they who had enjoyed the singular good fortune of
sharing in the intimate confidence of a flag-officer, might ever hope
to imitate.
“And now, my dearest niece,” concluded the relict of the Rear-Admiral,
after exhausting her breath, and her store of wisdom, in numberless
exhortations to be careful of her health, to write often to repeat the
actual words of her private message to her brother the General, to keep
below in gales of wind, to be particular in the account of any
extraordinary sight she might have the good fortune to behold in the
passage, and, in short, in all other matters likely to grow out of such
a leave-taking “and now, my dearest niece, I commit you to the mighty
deep, and One far mightier—to Him who made it. Banish from your
thoughts all recollections of any thing you may have heard concerning
the imperfections of the ‘Royal Caroline;’ for the opinion of the aged
seaman, who sailed with the lamented Admiral, assures me they are all
founded in mistake.” [“The treacherous villain!” muttered Wilder.] “Who
spoke?” said Mrs de Lacey; but, receiving no reply, she continued; “His
opinion is also exactly in accordance with my own, on more mature
reflection. To be sure, it is a culpable neglect to depend on bobstays
and gammonings for the security of the bowsprit, but still even this is
an oversight which, as my old friend has just told me, may be remedied
by ‘preventers and lashings.’ I have written a note to the
Master,—Gertrude, my dear, be careful ever to call the Master of the
ship _Mister_ Nichols; for none, but such as bear his Majesty’s
commission, are entitled to be termed _Captains;_ it is an honourable
station, and should always be treated with reverence, it being, in
fact, next in rank to a flag-officer,—I have written a note to the
Master on the subject, and he will see the neglect repaired and so, my
love, God bless you; take the best possible care of yourself; write me
by even opportunity; remember my kindest love to your father and be
very minute in your description of the whales.”
The eyes of the worthy and kind-hearted widow were filled with tears as
she ended; and there was a touch of nature, in the tremour of her
voice, that produced a sympathetic feeling in all who heard her words.
The final parting took place under the impression of these kind
emotions; and, before another minute, the oars of the boat, which bore
the travellers to the ship, were heard in the water.
Wilder listened to the well-known sounds with a feverish interest, that
he possibly might have found it difficult to explain even to himself. A
light touch on the elbow first drew his attention from the disagreeable
subject. Surprised at the circumstance, he faced the intruder, who
appeared to be a lad of apparently some fifteen years. A second look
was necessary to tell the abstracted young mariner that he again saw
the attendant of the Rover; he who has already been introduced in our
pages under the name of Roderick.
“Your pleasure?” he demanded, when his amazement at being thus
interrupted in his meditations, had a little subsided.
“I am directed to put these orders into your own hands,” was the
answer.
“Orders!” repeated the young man, with a curling lip. “The authority
should be respected which issues its mandates through such a
messenger.”
“The authority is one that it has ever proved dangerous to disobey,”
gravely returned the boy.
“Indeed! Then will I look into the contents with out delay, lest I fall
into some fatal negligence. Are you bid to wait an answer?”
On raising his eyes from the note the other had given him, after
breaking its seal, the young man found that the messenger had already
vanished. Perceiving how useless it would be to pursue so light a form,
amid the mazes of lumber that loaded the wharf, and most of the
adjacent shore, he opened the letter and read as follows:—
“An accident has disabled the Master of the outward-bound ship called
the ‘Royal Caroline!’ Her consignee is reluctant to intrust her to the
officer next in rank; but sail she must. I find she has credit for her
speed. If you have any credentials of _character_ and _competency_,
profit by the occasion, and earn the station you are finally destined
to fill. You have been named to some who are interested, and you have
been sought diligently. If this reach you in season, be on the alert,
and be decided. Show no surprise at any co-operation you may
unexpectedly meet. My agents are more numerous than you had believed.
The reason is obvious; gold is yellow, though I am
“RED.”
The signature, the matter, and the style of this letter, left Wilder in
no doubt as to its author. Casting a glance around him, he sprang into
a skiff; and, before the boat of the travellers had reached the ship,
that of Wilder had skimmed the water over half the distance between her
and the land. As he plied his skulls with vigorous and skilful arms, he
soon stood upon her decks. Forcing his way among the crowd of
attendants from the shore, that are apt to cumber a departing ship, he
reached the part of the vessel where a circle of busy and anxious faces
told him he should find those most concerned in her fate. Until now, he
had hardly breathed clearly, much less reflected on the character of
his sudden enterprise. It was too late, however, to retreat, had he
been so disposed, or to abandon his purpose, without incurring the
hazard of exciting dangerous suspicions A single instant served to
recal his thoughts, ere he demanded,—
“Do I see the owner of the ‘Caroline?’”
“The ship is consigned to our house,” returned a sedate, deliberate,
and shrewd-looking individual, in the attire of a wealthy, but also of
a thrifty, trader.
“I have heard that you have need of an experienced officer.”
“Experienced officers are comfortable things to an owner in a vessel of
value,” returned the merchant. “I hope the ‘Caroline’ is not without
her portion.”
“But I had heard, one to supply her Commander’s place, for a time, was
greatly needed?”
“If her Commander were incapable of doing his duty, such a thing might
certainly come to pass. Are you seeking a birth?”
“I have come to apply for the vacancy.”
“It would have been wiser, had you first ascertained there existed a
vacancy to fill. But you have not come to ask authority, in such a ship
as this, without sufficient testimony of your ability and fitness?”
“I hope these documents may prove satisfactory,” said Wilder, placing
in his hands a couple of unsealed letters.
During the time the other was reading the certificates for such they
proved to be, his shrewd eye was looking over his spectacles at the
subject of their contents, and returning to the paper, in alternate
glances, in such a way as to render it very evident that he was
endeavouring to assure himself of the fidelity of the words he read, by
actual observation.
“Hum! This is certainly very excellent testimony in your favour, young
gentleman; and—coming, as it does, from two so respectable and affluent
houses as Spriggs, Boggs and Tweed, and Hammer and Hacket—entitled to
great credit. A richer and broader bottomed firm than the former, is
not to be found in all his Majesty’s colonies; and I have great respect
for the latter, though envious people do say that they over-trade a
little.”
“Since, then, you esteem them so highly, I shall not be considered
hasty in presuming on their friendship.”
“Not at all, not at all, Mr a—a”—glancing his eye again into one of the
letters; “ay—Mr Wilder; there is never any presumption in a fair offer,
in a matter of business. Without offers to sell and offers to buy, our
property would never change hands, sir, ha! ha! ha! never change to a
profit, you know, young gentleman.”
“I am aware of the truth of what you say, and therefore I beg leave to
repeat my offer.”
“All perfectly fair and perfectly reasonable. But you cannot expect us,
Mr Wilder, to make a vacancy expressly for you to fill, though it must
be admitted that your papers are excellent—as good as the note of
Spriggs, Boggs and Tweed themselves—not to make a vacancy expressly”
“I had supposed the Master of the ship so seriously injured”—
“Injured, but not seriously,” interrupted the wary consignee, glancing
his eye around at sundry shippers, and one or two spectators, who were
within ear-shot; “injured certainly, but not so much as to quit the
vessel. No, no, gentlemen; the good ship ‘Royal Caroline’ proceeds on
her voyage, as usual, under the care of that old and well-tried
mariner, Nicholas Nichols.”
“Then, sir, am I sorry to have intruded on your time at so busy a
moment,” said Wilder, bowing with a disappointed air, and falling back
a step, as if about to withdraw.
“Not so hasty—not so hasty; bargains are not to be concluded, young
man, as you let a sail fall from the yard. It is possible that your
services may be of use, though not perhaps in the responsible situation
of Master. At what rate do you value the title of ‘Captain?’”
“I care little for the name, provided the trust and the authority are
mine.”
“A very sensible youth!” muttered the discreet merchant; “and one who
knows how to distinguish between the shadow and the substance! A
gentleman of your good sense and character must know, however, that the
reward is always proportioned to the nominal dignity. If I were acting
for myself, in this business, the case would be materially changed,
but, as an agent, it is a duty to consult the interest of my
principal.”
“The reward is of no account,” said Wilder, with an eagerness that
might have over-reached itself, had not the individual with whom he was
bargaining fastened his thoughts on the means of cheapening the other’s
services, with a steadiness from which they rarely swerved, when bent
on so commendable an object as saving: “I seek for service.”
“Then service you shall have; nor will you find us niggardly in the
operation. You cannot expect an advance, for a run of no more than a
month; nor any perquisites in the way of stowage, since the ship is now
full to her hatches; nor, indeed, any great price in the shape of
wages, since we take you chiefly to accommodate so worthy a youth, and
to honour the recommendations of so respectable a house as Spriggs,
Boggs and Tweed; but you will find us liberal, excessive liberal.
Stay—how know we that you are the person named in the invoi—I should
say, recommendation?”
“Does not the fact of possessing the letters establish my character?”
“It might in peaceable times; when the realm was not scourged by war. A
description of the person should have accompanied the documents, like a
letter of advice with the bill. As we take you at some risk in this
matter, you are not to be surprised that the price will be affected by
the circumstance. We are liberal; I believe no house in the colonies
pays more liberally; but then we have a character for prudence to
lose.”
“I have already said, sir, that the price shall not interrupt our
bargain.”
“Good: There is pleasure in transacting business on such liberal and
honourable views! And yet I wish a notarial seal, or a description of
the person, had accompanied the letters. This is the signature of
Robert Tweed; I know it well, and would be glad to see it at the bottom
of a promissory note for ten thousand pounds; that is, with a
responsible endorser; but the uncertainty is much against your
pecuniary interest, young man, since we become, as it were,
underwriters that you are the individual named.”
“In order that your mind may be at ease on the subject, Mr Bale,” said
a voice from among the little circle that was listening, with
characteristic interest, to the progress of the bargain, “I can
testify, or, should it be necessary, qualify to the person of the
gentleman.”
Wilder turned in some haste, and in no little astonishment, to discover
the acquaintance whom chance had thrown in so extraordinary, and
possibly in so disagreeable a manner, across his path; and that, too,
in a portion of the country where he wished to believe himself an
entire stranger. To his utter amazement, he found that the new speaker
was no other than the landlord of the “Foul Anchor.”—Honest Joe stood
with a perfectly composed look, and with a face that might readily have
been trusted to confront a far more imposing tribunal, awaiting the
result of his testimony on the seemingly wavering mind of the
consignee.
“Ah! you have lodged the gentleman for a time and you can testify that
he is a punctual paymaster and a civil inmate. But I want documents fit
to be filed with the correspondence of the owners _at home_”.
“I know not what sort of testimony you think fit for such good
company,” returned the unmoved publican holding up his hand with an air
of admirable innocence; “but, if the sworn declaration of a housekeeper
is of the sort you need, you are a magistrate and may begin to say over
the words at once.”
“Not I, not I, man. Though a magistrate, the oath is informal, and
would not be binding in law. But what do you know of the person in
question?”
“That he is as good a seaman, for his years, as any in the colonies.
There may be some of more practice and greater experience; I dare say
such are to be found; but as to activity, watchfulness, and prudence,
it would be hard to find his equal—especially for prudence.”
“You then are quite certain that this person is the individual named in
these papers?”
Joram received the certificates with the same admirable coolness he had
maintained from the commencement and prepared to read them with the
most scrupulous care. In order to effect this necessary operation, he
had to put on his spectacles, (for the landlord of the “Foul Anchor”
was in the wane of life), and Wilder fancied that he stood, during the
process, a notable example of how respectable depravity may become, in
appearance, when supported by a reverend air.
“This is all very true, Mr Bale,” continued the publican, removing his
glasses, and returning the papers. “They have forgotten to say any
thing of the manner in which he saved the ‘Lively Nancy,’ off Hatteras,
and how he run the ‘Peggy and Dolly’ over the Savannah bar, without a
pilot, blowing great guns from the northward and eastward at the time;
but I, who followed the water, as you know, in my younger days, have
often heard both circumstances mentioned among sea-faring men, and I am
a judge of the difficulty. I have an interest in this ship, neighbour
Bale, (for though a rich man, and I a poor one, we are nevertheless
neighbours)—I say I have an interest in this ship; since she is a
vessel that seldom quits Newport without leaving something to jingle in
my pocket, or I should not be here to-day, to see her lift her anchor.”
As the publican concluded, he gave audible evidence that his visit had
not gone unrewarded, by raising a music that was no less agreeable to
the ears of the thrifty merchant than to his own. The two worthies
laughed in an understanding way, and like two men who had found a
particular profit in their intercourse with the “Royal Caroline.” The
latter then beckoned Wilder apart, and, after a little further
preliminary discourse, the terms of the young mariner’s engagement were
finally settled. The true Master of the ship was to remain on board,
both as a security for the insurance, and in order to preserve her
reputation; but it was frankly admitted that his hurt, which was no
less than a broken leg, and which the surgeons were then setting, would
probably keep him below for a month to come. During the time he was
kept from his duty, his functions were to be filled, in effect, by our
adventurer. These arrangements occupied another hour of time, and then
the consignee left the vessel, perfectly satisfied with the prudent and
frugal manner in which he had discharged his duty towards his
principal. Before stepping into the boat, however, with a view to be
equally careful of his own interests, he took an opportunity to request
the publican to make a proper and legal affidavit of all that he knew,
“of his own knowledge,” concerning the officer just engaged Honest
Joram was liberal of his promises; but, as he saw no motive, now that
all was so happily effected, for incurring useless risks, he contrived
to evade their fulfilment, finding, no doubt, his apology for this
breach of faith in the absolute poverty of his information, when the
subject came to be duly considered, and construed literally by the
terms required.
It is unnecessary to relate the bustle, the reparation of
half-forgotten, and consequently neglected business, the duns, good
wishes, injunctions to execute commissions in some distant port, and
all the confused, and seemingly interminable, duties that crowd
themselves into the last ten minutes that precede the sailing of a
merchant vessel, more especially if she is fortunate, or rather
unfortunate enough to have passengers. A certain class of men quit a
vessel, in such a situation, with the reluctance that they would part
with any other well established means of profit, creeping down her
sides as lazily as the leech, filled to repletion, rolls from his
bloody repast. The common seaman, with an attention divided by the
orders of the pilot and the adieus of acquaintances, runs in every
direction but the right one, and, perhaps at the only time in his life,
seems ignorant of the uses of the ropes he has so long been accustomed
to handle. Notwithstanding all these vexatious delays, and customary
incumbrances, the “Royal Caroline” finally got rid of all her visitors
but one, and Wilder was enabled to indulge in a pleasure that a seaman
alone can appreciate—that clear decks and an orderly ship’s company.