“What have here? A man, or a fish?”
_The Tempest._
The “Caroline” now lay within a cable’s length of the supposed slaver.
In dismissing the pilot, Wilder had assumed a responsibility from which
a seaman usually shrinks, since, in the case of any untoward accident
in leaving the port, it would involve a loss of insurance, and his own
probable punishment. How far he had been influenced, in taking so
decided a step, by a knowledge of his being beyond or above, the reach
of the law, will probably be made manifest in the course of the
narrative; the only immediate effect of the measure, was, to draw the
whole of his attention, which had before been so much divided between
his passengers and the ship, to the care of the latter. But, so soon as
his vessel was secured, for a time at least, and his mind was no longer
excited by the expectation of a scene of immediate violence, our
adventurer found leisure to return to his former, though (to so
thorough a seaman) scarcely more agreeable occupation. The success of
his delicate manoeuvre had imparted to his countenance a glow of
something very like triumph; and his step, as he advanced towards Mrs.
Wyllys and Gertrude, was that of a man who enjoyed the consciousness of
having acquitted himself dexterously, in circumstances that required no
small exhibition of professional skill. At least, such was the
construction the former lady put upon his kindling eye and exulting
air; though the latter might, possibly be disposed to judge of his
motives with greater indulgence. Perhaps both were ignorant of the
secret reasons of his self-felicitation; and it is possible that a
sentiment, of a far more generous nature than either of them could
imagine, had a full share of its influence in his present feelings.
Be this as it might, Wilder no sooner saw that the “Caroline” was
swinging to her anchor, and that his services were of no further
immediate use, than he sought an opportunity to renew a conversation
which had hitherto been so vague, and so often interrupted. Mrs Wyllys
had long been viewing the neighbouring vessel with a steady look; nor
did she now turn her gaze from the motionless and silent object, until
the young mariner was near her person. She was then the first to speak.
“Yonder vessel must possess an extraordinary, not to say an insensible,
crew!” exclaimed the governess in a tone bordering on astonishment. “If
such things were, it would not be difficult to fancy her a
spectre-ship.”
“She is truly an admirably proportioned and a beautifully equipped
trader!”
“Did my apprehensions deceive me? or were we in actual danger of
getting the two vessels entangled?”
“There was certainly some reason for apprehension; but you see we are
safe.”
“For which we have to thank your skill. The manner in which you have
just extricated us from the late danger, has a direct tendency to
contradict all that you were pleased to foretel of that which is to
come.”
“I well know, Madam, that my conduct may bear an unfavourable
construction, but”—
“You thought it no harm to laugh at the weakness of three credulous
females,” continued Mrs Wyllys, smiling. “Well, you have had your
amusement; and now. I hope, you will be more disposed to pity what is
said to be a natural infirmity of woman’s mind.”
As the governess concluded, she glanced her eye at Gertrude, with an
expression that seemed to say it would be cruel, now, to trifle further
with the apprehensions of one so innocent and so young. The look of
Wilder followed her own; and when he answered it was with a sincerity
that was well calculated to carry conviction in its tones.
“On the faith which a gentleman owes to all your sex, Madam, what I
have already told you I still continue to believe.”
“The gammonings and the top-gallant-masts!”
“No, no,” interrupted the young mariner, slightly laughing, and at the
same time colouring a good deal; “perhaps not all of that. But neither
mother, wife, nor sister of mine, should make this passage in the
‘Royal Caroline.’”
“Your look, your voice, and your air of good faith, make a strange
contradiction to your words, young man; for, while the former almost
tempt me to believe you honest, the latter have not a shade of reason
to support them. Perhaps I ought to be ashamed of such a weakness, and
yet I will acknowledge that the mysterious quiet, which seems to have
settled for ever on yonder ship, has excited an inexplicable
uneasiness, that may in some way be connected with her character.—She
is certainly a slaver?”
“She is certainly beautiful!” exclaimed Gertrude.
“Very beautiful!” Wilder gravely rejoined.
“There is a man still seated on one of her yards who appears to be
entranced in his occupation,” continued Mrs Wyllys, leaning her chin
thoughtfully on her hand, as she gazed at the object of which she was
speaking. “Not once, during the time we were in so much danger of
getting the ships entangled, did that seaman bestow so much as a stolen
glance towards us. He resembles the solitary individual in the city of
the transformed; for not another mortal is there to keep him company,
so far as we may discover.”
“Perhaps his comrades sleep,” said Gertrude.
“Sleep! Mariners do not sleep in an hour and a day like this! Tell me,
Mr Wilder, (you that are a seaman should know), is it usual for the
crew to sleep when a strange vessel is so nigh—near even to touching, I
might almost say?”
“It is not.”
“I thought as much; for I am not an entire novice in matters of your
daring, your hardy, your _noble_ profession!” returned the governess,
with deep emphasis “And, had we gone foul of the slaver, do you think
her crew would have maintained their apathy?”
“I think not, Madam.”
“There is something, in all this assumed tranquillity, which might
induce one to suspect the worst of her character. Is it known that any
of her crew have had communication with the town, since her arrival?”
“It is.”
“I have heard that false colours have been seen on the coast, and that
ships have been plundered, and their people and passengers maltreated,
during the past summer. It is even thought that the famous Rover has
tired of his excesses on the Spanish Main, and that a vessel was not
long since seen in the Caribbean sea, which was thought to be the
cruiser of that desperate pirate!”
Wilder made no reply. His eyes, which had been fastened steadily,
though respectfully, on those of the speaker, fell to the deck, and he
appeared to await whatever her further pleasure might choose to utter.
The governess mused a moment; and then, with a change in the expression
of her countenance which proved that her suspicion of the truth was too
light to continue without further and better confirmation, she added,—
“After all, the occupation of a slaver is bad enough, and unhappily by
far too probable, to render it necessary to attribute any worse
character to the stranger. I would I knew the motive of your singular
assertions, Mr Wilder?”
“I cannot better explain them, Madam: unless my manner produces its
effect, I fail altogether in my intentions, which at least are
sincere.”
“Is not the risk lessened by your presence?”
“Lessened, but not removed.”
Until now, Gertrude had rather listened, as if unavoidably, than seemed
to make one of the party. But here she turned quickly, and perhaps a
little impatiently, to Wilder, and, while her cheeks glowed she
demanded, with a smile that might have brought even a more obdurate man
to his confession,—
“Is it forbidden to be more explicit?”
The young Commander hesitated, perhaps as much to dwell upon the
ingenuous features of the speaker, as to decide upon his answer. The
colour mounted into his own embrowned cheek, and his eye lighted with a
gleam of open pleasure; then, as though suddenly reminded that he was
delaying to reply, he said,—
“I am certain, that, in relying on your discretion, I shall be safe.”
“Doubt it not,” returned Mrs Wyllys. “In no event shall you ever be
betrayed.”
“Betrayed! For myself, Madam, I have little fear. If you suspect me of
personal apprehension you do me great injustice.”
“We suspect you of nothing unworthy,” said Gertrude hastily, “but—we
are very anxious for ourselves.”
“Then will I relieve your uneasiness, though at the expense of”——
A call, from one of the mates to the other, arrested his words for the
moment, and drew his attention to the neighbouring ship.
“The slaver’s people have just found out that their ship is not made to
put in a glass case, to be looked at by women and children,” cried the
speaker in tones loud enough to send his words into the fore-top, where
the messmate he addressed was attending to some especial duty.
“Ay, ay,” was the answer; “seeing us in motion, has put him in mind of
his next voyage. They keep watch aboard the fellow, like the sun in
Greenland six months on deck, and six months below!”
The witticism produced, as usual, a laugh among the seamen, who
continued their remarks in a similar vein, but in tones more suited to
the deference due to their superiors.
The eyes, however, of Wilder had fastened themselves on the other ship.
The man so long seated on the end of the main-yard had disappeared, and
another sailor was deliberately walking along the opposite quarter of
the same spar, steadying himself by the boom, and holding in one hand
the end of a rope, which he was apparently about to reeve in the place
where it properly belonged. The first glance told Wilder that the
latter was Fid, who was so far recovered from his debauch as to tread
the giddy height with as much, if not greater, steadiness than he would
have rolled along the ground, had his duty called him to terra firma.
The countenance of the young man, which, an instant before, had been
flushed with excitement, and which was beaming with the pleasure of an
opening confidence, changed directly to a look of gloom and reserve.
Mrs Wyllys who had lost no shade of the varying expression of his face,
resumed the discourse, with some earnestness, where he had seen fit so
abruptly to break it off.
“You would relieve us,” she said, “at the expense of”——
“Life, Madam; but not of honour.”
“Gertrude, we can now retire to our cabin,” observed Mrs Wyllys, with
an air of cold displeasure, in which disappointment was a good deal
mingled with resentment at the trifling of which she believed herself
the subject. The eye of Gertrude was no less averted and distant than
that of her governess, while the tint that gave lustre to its beam was
brighter, if not quite so resentful. As the two moved past the silent
Wilder, each dropped a distant salute, and then our adventurer found
himself the sole occupant of the quarter-deck. While his crew were
busied in coiling ropes, and clearing the decks, their young Commander
leaned his head on the taffrail, (that part of the vessel which the
good relict of the Rear-Admiral had so strangely confounded with a very
different object in the other end of the ship), remaining for many
minutes in an attitude of deep abstraction. From this reverie he was at
length aroused, by a sound like that produced by the lifting and
falling of a light oar into the water. Believing himself about to be
annoyed by visiters from the land, he raised his head, and cast a
dissatisfied glance over the vessel’s side, to see who was approaching.
A light skiff, such as is commonly used by fishermen in the bays and
shallow waters of America, was lying within ten feet of the ship, and
in a position where it was necessary to take some little pains in order
to observe it. It was occupied by a single man, whose back was towards
the vessel, and who was apparently abroad on the ordinary business of
the owner of such a boat.
“Are you in search of rudder-fish, my friend, that you hang so closely
under my counter?” demanded Wilder. “The bay is said to be full of
delicious bass, and other scaly gentlemen, that would far better repay
your trouble.”
“He is well paid who gets the bite he baits for,” returned the other,
turning his head, and exhibiting the cunning eye and chuckling
countenance of old Bob Bunt, as Wilder’s recent and treacherous
confederate had announced his name to be.
“How now! Dare you trust yourself with me, in five-fathom water, after
the villanous trick you have seen fit”—
“Hist! noble Captain, hist!” interrupted Bob, holding up a finger, to
repress the other’s animation, and intimating, by a sign, that their
conference must be held in lower tones; “there is no need to call all
hands to help us through a little chat. In what way have I fallen to
leeward of your favour, Captain?”
“In what way, sirrah! Did you not receive money, to give such a
character of this ship to the ladies as (you said yourself) would make
them sooner pass the night in a churchyard, than trust foot on board
her?”
“Something of the sort passed between us, Captain; but you forgot one
half of the conditions, and I overlooked the other; and I need not tell
so expert a navigator, that two halves make a whole. No wonder,
therefore, that the affair dropt through between us.”
“How! Do you add falsehood to perfidy? What part of my engagement did I
neglect?”
“What part!” returned the pretended fisherman, leisurely drawing in a
line, which the quick eye of Wilder saw, though abundantly provided
with lead at the end, was destitute of the equally material
implement—the hook; “What part, Captain! No less a particular than the
second guinea.”
“It was to have been the reward of a service done, and not an earnest,
like its fellow, to induce you to undertake the duty.”
“Ah! you have helped me to the very word I wanted. I fancied it was not
in earnest, like the one I got, and so I left the job half finished.”
“Half finished, scoundrel! you never commenced what you swore so
stoutly to perform.”
“Now are you on as wrong a course, my Master, as if you steered due
east to get to the Pole. I religiously performed one half my
undertaking; and, you will acknowledge, I was only half paid.”
“You would find it difficult to prove that you even did that little.”
“Let us look into the log. I enlisted to walk up the hill as far as the
dwelling of the good Admiral’s widow, and there to make certain
alterations in my sentiments, which it is not necessary to speak of
between us.”
“Which you did not make; but, on the contrary, which you thwarted, by
telling an exactly contradictory tale.”
“True.”
“True! knave?—Were justice done you, an acquaintance with a rope’s end
would be a merited reward.”
“A squall of words!—If your ship steer as wild as your ideas, Captain,
you will make a crooked passage to the south. Do you not think it an
easier matter, for an old man like me, to tell a few lies than to climb
yonder long and heavy hill? In strict justice, more than half my duty
was done when I got into the presence of the believing widow; and when
I concluded to refuse the half of the reward that was unpaid, and to
take bounty from t’other side.”
“Villain!” exclaimed Wilder, a little blinded by resentment, “even your
years shall no longer protect you from punishment. Forward, there! send
a crew into the jolly boat, sir, and bring me this old fellow in the
skiff on board the ship. Pay no attention to his outcries; I have an
account to settle with him, that cannot be balanced without a little
noise.”
The mate, to whom this order was addressed, and who had answered the
hail, jumped on the rail, where he got sight of the craft he was
commanded to chase. In less than a minute he was in the boat, with four
men, and pulling round the bows of the ship, in order to get on the
side necessary to effect his object. The self-styled Bob Bunt gave one
or two strokes with his skulls, and sent, the skiff some twenty or
thirty fathoms off, where he lay, chuckling like a man who saw only the
success of his cunning, without any apparent apprehensions of the
consequences. But, the moment the boat appeared in view, he laid
himself to the work with vigorous arms, and soon convinced the
spectators that his capture was not to be achieved without abundant
difficulty.
For some little time, it was doubtful what course the fugitive meant to
take; for he kept whirling and turning in swift and sudden circles,
completely confusing and baffling his pursuers, by his skilful and
light evolutions. But, soon tiring of this taunting amusement, or
perhaps apprehensive of exhausting his own strength, which was
powerfully and most dexterously exerted, it was not long before he
darted off in a perfectly straight line, taking the direction of the
“Rover.”
The chase now grew hot and earnest, exciting the clamour and applause
of most of the nautical spectators The result, for a time, seemed
doubtful; but, if any thing, the jolly boat, though some distance
astern, began to gain, as it gradually overcame the resistance of the
water. In a very few minutes, however, the skiff shot under the stern
of the other ship, and disappeared, bringing the hull of the vessel in
a line with the “Caroline” and its course. The pursuers were not long
in taking the same direction and then the seamen of the latter ship
began, laughingly to climb the rigging, in order to command a further
view, over the intervening object.
Nothing, however, was to be seen beyond but water, and the still more
distant island, with its little fort. In a few minutes, the crew of the
jolly boat were observed pulling back in their path, returning slowly,
like men who were disappointed. All crowded to the side of the ship, in
order to hear the termination of the adventure; the noisy assemblage
even drawing the two passengers from the cabin to the deck. Instead,
however, of meeting the questions of their shipmates with the usual
wordy narrative of men of their condition, the crew of the boat wore
startled and bewildered looks. Their officer sprang to the deck without
speaking, and immediately sought his Commander.
“The skiff was too light for you, Mr Nighthead,” Wilder calmly
observed, as the other approached, having never moved, himself, from
the place where he had been standing during the whole proceeding.
“Too light, sir! Are you acquainted with the man who pulled it?”
“Not particularly well: I only know him for a knave.”
“He should be one, since he is of the family of the devil!”
“I will not take on myself to say he is as bad as you appear to think,
though I have little reason to believe he has any honesty to cast into
the sea. What has become of him?”
“A question easily asked, but hard to answer. In the first place,
though an old and a gray-headed fellow, he twitched his skiff along as
if it floated in air. We were not a minute, or two at the most, behind
him; but, when we got on the other side of the slaver, boat and man had
vanished!”
“He doubled her bows while you were crossing the stern.”
“Did you see him, then?”
“I confess we did not.”
“It could not be, sir; since we pulled far enough ahead to examine on
both sides at once; besides, the people of the slaver knew nothing of
him.”
“You saw the slaver’s people?”
“I should have said her man; for there is seemingly but one hand on
board her.”
“And how was he employed?”
“He was seated in the chains, and seem’d to have been asleep. It is a
lazy ship, sir; and one that takes more money from her owners, I fancy,
than it ever returns!”
“It may be so. Well, let the rogue escape. There is the prospect of a
breeze coming in from the sea, Mr Earing; we will get our topsails to
the mast-heads again, and be in readiness for it. I could like yet to
see the sun set in the water.”
The mates and the crew went cheerfully to their task, though many a
curious question was asked, by the wondering seamen, of their shipmates
who had been in the boat, and many a solemn answer was given, while
they were again spreading the canvas, to invite the breeze. Wilder
turned, in the mean time, to Mrs Wyllys, who had been an auditor of his
short conversation with the mate.
“You perceive, Madam,” he said, “that our voyage does not commence
without its omens.”
“When you tell me, inexplicable young man, with the air of singular
sincerity you sometimes possess, that we are unwise in trusting to the
ocean, I am half inclined to put faith in what you say; but when you
attempt to enforce your advice with the machinery of witchcraft, you
only induce me to proceed.”
“Man the windlass!” cried Wilder, with a look that seemed to tell his
companions, If you are so stout of heart, the opportunity to show your
resolution shall not be wanting. “Man the windlass there! We will try
the breeze again, and work the ship into the offing while there is
light.”
The clattering of handspikes preceded the mariners song. Then the heavy
labour, by which the ponderous iron was lifted from the bottom, was
again resumed, and, in a few more minutes, the ship was once more
released from her hold upon the land.
The wind soon came fresh off the ocean, charged with the saline
dampness of the element. As the air fell upon the distended and
balanced sails, the ship bowed to the welcome guest; and then, rising
gracefully from its low inclination, the breeze was heard singing,
through the maze of rigging, the music that is ever grateful to a
seaman’s ear. The welcome sounds, and the freshness of the peculiar air
gave additional energy to the movements of the men. The anchor was
stowed, the ship cast, the lighter sails set, the courses had fallen,
and the bows of the “Caroline” were throwing the spray before her, ere
another ten minutes had gone by.
Wilder had now undertaken himself the task of running his vessel
between the islands of Connannicut and Rhode. Fortunately for the heavy
responsibility he had assumed, the channel was not difficult and the
wind had veered so far to the east as to give him a favourable
opportunity, after making a short stretch to windward, of laying
through in a single reach. But this stretch would bring him under the
necessity of passing very near the “Rover,” or of losing no small
portion of his ’vantage ground. He did not hesitate. When the vessel
was as nigh the weather shore as his busy lead told him was prudent the
ship was tacked, and her head laid directly towards the still
motionless and seemingly unobservant slaver.
The approach of the “Caroline” was far more propitious than before. The
wind was steady, and her crew held her in hand, as a skilful rider
governs the action of a fiery and mettled steed. Still the passage was
not made without exciting a breathless interest in every soul in the
Bristol trader. Each individual had his own secret cause of curiosity.
To the seamen, the strange ship began to be the subject of wonder; the
governess, and her ward, scarce knew the reasons of their emotions;
while Wilder was but too well instructed in the nature of the hazard
that all but himself were running. As before the man at the wheel was
about to indulge his nautical pride, by going to windward; but,
although the experiment would now have been attended with but little
hazard, he was commanded to proceed differently.
“Pass the slaver’s lee-beam, sir,” said Wilder to him, with a gesture
of authority; and then the young Captain went himself to lean on the
weather-rail, like every other idler on board, to examine the object
they were so fast approaching. As the “Caroline” came boldly up,
seeming to bear the breeze before her, the sighing of the wind, as it
murmured through the rigging of the stranger, was the only sound that
issued from her. Not a single human face, not even a secret and curious
eye, was any where to be seen. The passage was of course rapid, and, as
the two vessels, for an instant, lay with heads and sterns nearly
equal, Wilder thought it was to be made without the slightest notice
from the imaginary slaver. But he was mistaken. A light, active form,
in the undress attire of a naval officer, sprang upon the taffrail, and
waved a sea-cap in salute. The instant the fair hair was blowing about
the countenance of this individual, Wilder recognized the quick, keen
eye and features of the Rover.
“Think you the wind will hold here, sir?” shouted the latter, at the
top of his voice.
“It has come in fresh enough to be steady,” was the answer.
“A wise mariner would get all his easting in time to me, there is a
smack of West-Indies about it.”
“You believe we shall have it more at south?”
“I do: But a taught bow-line, for the night, will carry you clear.”
By this time the “Caroline” had swept by, and she was now luffing,
across the slaver’s bows, into her course again. The figure on the
taffrail waved high the sea-cap in adieu, and disappeared.
“Is it possible that such a man can traffic in human beings!” exclaimed
Gertrude, when the sounds of both voices had ceased.
Receiving no reply, she turned quickly, to regard her companion. The
governess was standing like a being entranced, with her eyes looking on
vacancy for they had not changed their direction since the motion of
the vessel had carried her beyond the countenance of the stranger. As
Gertrude took her hand, and repeated the question, the recollection of
Mrs Wyllys returned. Passing her own hand over her brow, with a
bewildered air, she forced a smile as she said,—
“The meeting of vessels, or the renewal of any maritime experience,
never fails to revive my earliest recollections, love. But surely that
was an extraordinary being, who has at length shown himself in the
slaver!”
“For a slaver, most extraordinary!”
Wyllys leaned her head on her hand for an instant, and then turned to
seek the person of Wilder. The young mariner was standing near,
studying the expression of her countenance, with an interest scarcely
less remarkable than her own air of thought.
“Tell me, young man, is yonder individual the Commander of the slaver?”
“He is.”
“You know him?”
“We have met.”
“And he is called——”
“The Master of yon ship. I know no other name.”
“Gertrude, we will seek our cabin. When the land is leaving us, Mr
Wilder will have the goodness to let us know.”
The latter bowed his assent, and the ladies then left the deck. The
“Caroline” had now the prospect of getting speedily to sea. In order to
effect this object, Wilder had every thing, that would draw, set to the
utmost advantage. One hundred times, at least, however, did he turn his
head, to steal a look at the vessel he had left behind. She ever lay as
when they passed—a regular, beautiful but motionless object, in the
bay. From each of these furtive examinations, our adventurer invariably
cast an excited and impatient glance at the sails of his own ship;
ordering this to be drawn tighter to the spar beneath, or that to be
more distended along its mast.
The effect of so much solicitude, united with so much skill, was to
urge the Bristol trader through her element at a rate she had rarely,
if ever, surpassed It was not long before the land ceased to be seen on
her two beams, and then it was only to be traced in the blue islands in
their rear, or in a long, dim horizon, to the north and west, where the
limits of the vast Continent stretches for countless leagues. The
passengers were now summoned to take their parting look at the land,
and the officers were seen noting their departures. Just before the day
shut in, and ere the islands were entirely sunk into the waves, Wilder
ascended to an upper yard bearing in his hand a glass. His gaze,
towards the haven he had left, was long, anxious, and abstracted. But
his descent was distinguished by a more quiet eye, and a calmer mien. A
smile, like that of success played about his lips; and he gave his
orders clearly, in a cheerful, encouraging voice. They were obeyed as
briskly. The elder mariners pointed to the seas, as they cut through
them, and affirmed that never had the “Caroline” made such progress.
The mates cast the log, and nodded their approbation as one announced
to the other the unwonted speed of the ship. In short, content and
hilarity reigned on board; for it was deemed that their passage was
commenced under such auspices as would lead it to a speedy and a
prosperous termination. In the midst of these encouraging omens, the
sun dipped into the sea, illuming, as it fell, a wide reach of the
chill and gloomy element. Then the shades of the hour began to gather
over the vast surface of the illimitable waste.