CHAPTER VIII.

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There is some arcane and inconsistent spelling. The dialect, spelling

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Obvious typographical errors have been altered, for example where a word

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AN

OLD SAILOR'S YARNS.

BY

N. AMES.

AUTHOR OF "MARINER'S SKETCHES,"

&c. &c. &c.

Extremum hunc, Arethusa, mihi concede laborem.

_Virgil._

NEW YORK: GEORGE DEARBORN, 38 GOLD STREET.

MDCCCXXXV.

* * * * *

Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1835, by

GEORGE DEARBORN, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the

United States, for the Southern District of New York.

* * * * *

WILLIAM VAN NORDEN, PRINT.

CONTENTS.

* * * * *

MARY BOWLINE. . . . . . . 15

OLD CUFF . . . . . . . . . . 53

RIVALS . . . . . . . . . . . . 73

MORTON . . . . . . . . . . . 95

PIRATE OF MASAFUERO . . 329

PREFACE.

Mr. Buckingham, noticing the "Nautical Reminiscences" in the New

England Magazine, says, no author ever stopped at the second book; and

he very gravely proceeds to recommend that my number three should savor

more of the style of Goldsmith or Washington Irving. I should have no

objection whatever to writing like either of these distinguished

authors, _if I could_; but as the case is, I must be content to write as

well as I can. The whole article in Mr. B's magazine bore no faint

resemblance to a dose of calomel and jalap, administered in a

table-spoonful of molasses, in which the sweet and the nauseous are so

equally balanced, that the patient is in doubt whether to spit or to

swallow. I was, however, exceedingly flattered with the notice bestowed

upon me by this literary cynic, as he was never before known to speak

well, even moderately, of any author, except natives of Boston, or

professors in Harvard University.

"Morton" is founded upon an old tradition, now forgotten, but well

known when I first went to sea, of the exploits of some of our

adventurous and somewhat lawless traders in the Pacific. A number of the

crew of one of these smuggling vessels were taken in the act, and, after

a hasty trial, ordered to be sent to the mines. The route to their place

of condemnation and hopeless confinement lay near the coast. A large

party of seamen landed from two or three ships that were in the

neighborhood, waylaid the military escort, knocked most of them on the

head, rescued the prisoners, and got safe off without loss. The story

says nothing of female influence or assistance, but knowing it to be

morally impossible to get through a story without the assistance of a

lady, I pressed one into the service, and took other liberties with the

original, till it became what peradventure the reader will find it. Many

stories are told of the skirmishes, or as sailors call them,

"scrammidges," between our "free-traders" and the guarda-costas in

different parts of the Pacific. In particular, the ship D----, of

Boston, is said to have had a "regular-built fight" with a guarda-costa

of forty-four guns, that retired from the action so miserably mauled,

that it is doubtful to this day whether she ever found her way back into

port. An old sea-dog who was on board the D----, furnished me with many

details of the proceedings of our merchantmen on the coasts of

California, and Mexico, some thirty years since, but most of them have

escaped my memory.

I have inadvertently, in one or two instances, called the inhabitants

of Mexico, South Americans. The fact is, there is scarcely a perceptible

shade of difference in manners between the Chilians, Peruvians, and

Mexicans; there is none in their language, dress, or religion; and

sailors, who pay but little regard to arbitrary divisions of continents,

are in the habit of calling all the quondam possessions of his Most

Catholic Majesty, that border upon the Pacific, by the general name of

South America, upon the same principle, I presume, that they call the

whole of that ocean the "_South_ Sea," though they may be at that very

moment anchored in Sitka, or cruizing in the chops of Behring's Straits.

"The Rivals," is built upon a strange story that was quite current among

our men-of-war's-men some years ago, but I am unable to give any further

account of the hero of _their_ story than the reader will find in the

conclusion of mine. There seems to be no doubt that the stranger was

obliged to fly on account of a fatal duel; and sailors, who cannot

conceive of a duel between two gentlemen, as they somewhat ironically

call them, unless there is a woman in the case, have accordingly

attached one to the quarrel that compelled the unfortunate officer to

take shelter on board an American national vessel.

"Old Cuff" is a sketch from real life. He was a petty officer in the

service at the same time with me, and notwithstanding his rambling life,

was a man of good education and strong mind. His life was a striking

illustration of the truth of the proposition that "there is no romance

like the romance of real life." He proposed to me to take minutes of his

adventures, which were extremely interesting, but before I could

commence operations I was myself made a petty officer, and removed to a

station in a part of the ship where I but seldom saw him, and the ship

was soon after ordered home.

The reader need be neither a wizard nor a witch to perceive that "Mary

Bowline" is a creation of my own brain, and is of course defective, and

will disappoint. But if it is true that "Bacon, Butler, and Shakspeare

have rendered it impossible for any one after them to be profound,

witty, or sublime," it is equally true that Scott, Irving, and others

have rendered it impossible for any one to be equally entertaining,

interesting, or amusing. I hold, however, to another maxim, that "he is

a benefactor to mankind who furnishes them with innocent materials for

laughter and delight," a maxim that did not come exactly "ex cathedra,"

but is full as profound, and correct. If I have been so fortunate as to

contribute to, or become the cause of innocent delight, I shall think

that the "Forecastle Yarns" have not been written in vain.

It was objected to my two former works that they contained strictures,

and remarks, upon what are commonly called orthodox principles. In the

present volume, I have studiously endeavored to steer my footsteps clear

of the tender toes of every religious sect except the Catholics; whom,

in imitation of the Protestant clergy and laity all around me, I have

handled without mittens whenever I could get a chance.

I cannot close without repeating that if I have succeeded in helping to

make

"The wheels of life gae down hill scrievin',

Wi' rattlin' glee,"--

I shall feel more gratified than if I had squared the circle, or drawn

up a tariff that, like Shakspeare's barber's chair, should fit all

parties.

N. A.

_Providence, October 1, 1833._

P. S. More than a year ago the following pages were written and prepared

for the press, under the title of "Forecastle Yarns," but a gentleman

connected with the New York Mirror took a fancy to that title, and

immediately appropriated it to himself with the most genteel

indifference as to the prior right of another. In consequence, I have

been obliged to adopt a new name. The "Pirate of Masafuero" was written

after the above preface was prepared. "Old Cuff" has already been before

the public in the columns of the first and only number of a new

magazine[1] that expired for want of patronage, and support, having just

survived long enough to give ample proofs that it deserved the

patronage, and support, that were denied it. The very favorable notice

that the Evening Star took of "Old Cuff," is proof positive that it is

much higher than "fair to middling;" and if it is true that "the proof

of the pudding is eating the bag," (and the reader will consider "Old

Cuff" as the bag,) I think it follows that the pudding now set before

him cannot be a bad one.

_November, 1834._

[Footnote 1: American Spectator and National Magazine.]

* * * * *

MARY BOWLINE.

* * * * *

MARY BOWLINE.

CHAPTER I.

"Nautaeque, per omne

Audaces mare qui currunt, hac mente laborum

Sese ferre, senes ut in otia tuta recedunt,

Aiunt."

HORACE.

Captain Robert Bowline, a retired sea-captain, occupied a snug little

farm in the town of B----, one of the many pleasant villages on the

coast of New England. He had followed the sea for many years, acquired

considerable property, married, and had a family. When he had attained

his forty-fifth year, a relation of his wife died, leaving her heiress

to a very handsome estate, part of which was the farm aforesaid. In

consequence of this event he was easily persuaded by his wife, whom he

tenderly loved, to retire to private life, and leave the "vexed ocean"

to be ploughed by those who had their fortunes to make. They retired to

their farm, when the first act of the old Triton was to pull down the

antique house that had been erected "about the time of the old French

war," and build another more "ship-shape," and congenial to the taste

of a sailor. The dwelling itself was not, indeed, externally different

from any other of the snug-looking and rather handsome two-story houses

of substantial farmers, &c. in New England; but its internal economy was

somewhat nautical, containing numerous "lockers" and "store-rooms." Its

front gate-posts were composed of the two jaw-bones of an enormous

whale; the fence was of a most fanciful Chinese pattern; and directly in

front of the house was erected that never-failing ornament of a sailor's

dwelling, a tall flag-staff, with cap, cross-trees, and topmast,

complete; the last, always being kept "housed," except upon the 4th of

July, 22d of February, &c. At the foot of the flag-staff, "hushed in

grim repose," was an iron six-pounder, mounted upon a ship gun-carriage,

ready for service, whenever any national holyday required its voice. The

house fronted the sea; a most superb view of which it commanded, but was

at the same time screened from its storms in great measure by being

flanked by noble old elms, and a fine orchard, which almost entirely

surrounded it; while in the rear the ground swelled into a thickly

wooded hill of moderate height. The ground in front sloped gently down

to the water's edge, at the distance of half a mile from the house, but

to the left gradually rose into a high point, or headland, terminating

in a rocky cliff that strode far out into the sea, and formed the

harbor.

The family of the old seaman, at the time he took possession of his

"shore quarters," consisted of himself, wife, and daughter Mary--the

rest of his children having died young. As we have no particular concern

with the events of his life from that period to Mary's twenty-first

year, we shall only observe that during that time he had the misfortune

to lose his wife.

Mary Bowline was a young lady, confessedly of the greatest beauty in the

little town of B----, and for many miles round; a trifle above the

middle stature, sufficiently so to relieve her figure from the

imputation of shortness; or, as she was a little inclined to be

"fleshy," or "embonpoint," as our refined authors call it, from what is

sometimes called "stubbidness;" her eyes were of deep celestial blue;

her hair, a dark brown, and her complexion, notwithstanding her

continual rambles along the beach in her girlish days, of exquisite

purity. Her education, I grieve to say, had been most shamefully

neglected; her mother, though a most exemplary woman, both as a

Christian and a member of society, had never tied her up in a

fashionable corset to improve her figure, nor sent her to a fashionable

boarding school to improve her mind; the consequence was that she knew

nothing of the piano,--Virgil seems to have had the gift of prophecy

with regard to this part of modern education, when he said or sang,

"Stridente stipula miserum _disperdere_ carmen,"--

and was equally ignorant of that sublime and useful art, working lace;

she had no further idea of dancing than had been beat into her head, or

rather heels, by the saltatory instructions of an itinerant

dancing-master--I ask pardon, "professor"--who, with a bandy-legged dog

at his heels, and a green baize bag under his arm, paid an annual visit

to the town, to instruct its Thetises in the "poetry of motion;" an apt

illustration of the

"_Bacchum_ in remotis" choreas "rupibus

Vidi docentem

Nymphasque discentes,"

of Horace, with the alteration of a word; said fiddler having "forsworn

thin potations" very soon after the commencement of his capering career.

In the "serene and silent art" she was, however, truly fortunate; the

clergyman of the place, a most amiable and intelligent man, and, to the

credit of his amphibious parishioners, loved and esteemed with the

utmost fervor and unanimity, added to his other accomplishments no mean

skill as a draughtsman; an art, that he had full leisure to practise;

one of his parochial duties, that of visiting the sick, being a mere

shadow; for your fisherman, with his wife and his little ones, is but

seldom on the doctor's list, and when he "files off," generally does it

without beat of drum or flap of banner. He was a constant visiter at the

house of Captain Bowline, whither he was attracted by the fascination

of the seaman's stories of foreign parts. Charmed with the dawning

beauty of the lovely little Mary, he readily undertook to give her

better instruction than she could have obtained at the town school, to

which he added drawing. Her mother had amply instructed her in the more

useful and homely arts of cooking, sewing, knitting, &c. and she had

even taught her to spin; for she lived before the establishment of any,

or many, of those institutions for the increase of illegitimate

children, ignorance, immorality, suicide, seduction, murder, &c.--I mean

cotton factories. The comparatively affluent circumstances of her family

had, however, rendered it unnecessary for her to practise this last

accomplishment. With all these charms in her own person, and right in

her father's strong box, it is not to be wondered at that the lovely

Mary Bowline had suitors in abundance; but the only one that seemed to

have made any impression upon her light heart, was a young seaman by the

name of Kelson, who had now attained his twenty-seventh year.

Thomas Kelson was the son of poor parents, indeed it would have been

extremely difficult, if not impossible, to have found a family in the

whole town of B---- that could be called wealthy. He had followed the

sea from early life, and had always returned home during the intervals

of his voyages, at which times he had improved his education under the

instructions of the clergyman aforesaid. His acquaintance with Mary had

passed by a very natural transition from intimacy to affection; he was

the constant companion of her rambles, and when she chose an aquatic

excursion his sail-boat was always ready. To her father his company was

always acceptable; the old seaman had none of the pride of "monied

aristrocracy;" he saw no harm in his daughter placing her affections,

and bestowing her hand and fortune, upon a young man who was fast rising

to respectability and wealth, in precisely the same steps by which he

had himself ascended, commencing as cabin-boy and ending as master and

part owner; he lived on a part of the coast that lay entirely out of the

track of "refinement," if indeed she had then begun her march.

Accordingly things were permitted to go on just as though consent had

been asked and obtained; the young couple walked together, sat together,

and Kelson being "free of the house," talked together upon almost every

subject but love. Was there to be a fishing or sleighing party, or an

excursion into the neighboring woods, Tom Kelson was invariably and by

quiet agreement Mary Bowline's escort; was there a ball, no one,

"louting low with cap in hand," solicited, or thought of soliciting, the

honor of her company; that felicity was always supposed to be reserved

for Tom Kelson; still, with all this constant and close intimacy, the

young seaman had never talked of love, never offered himself as a

husband, and Mary, the gay and light-hearted Mary, had never, as the

New England saying is, "thought a word about it." Had Kelson suddenly

presented himself to her with "Mary, shall we be published next Sunday?"

she would have answered "Yes;" without the slightest hesitation; nor

thought her assent worth the trouble of a blush or a simper; and such, I

believe, will be found the case in most of our country courtships.

Captain Kelson, for he had attained that title some time previous, had

been on _terra firma_ some months; partly for want of a vessel, but

chiefly in compliance with the earnest entreaties of the lovely Mary,

who was terrified at the thought of his again encountering the frightful

calamity that had so nearly proved fatal to him on his last voyage. On

his return from St. Petersburg with a full cargo, he had experienced a

tremendous gale near the Grand Banks, during which his vessel was struck

by lightning and consumed. After undergoing most dreadful sufferings in

their boats, the exhausted remnant of the crew were most providentially

picked up and brought safe home. In consequence of losing his vessel,

the owners had received him with coldness, as is invariably the case, as

though a deep loaded brig, lying-to in a gale of wind, could dodge a

flash of lightning! I have known many a good seaman kept "lying out" of

a vessel for months, merely because the owners had thought proper to

send him to sea in a _craft_ whose bottom had "dropped out," as the sea

phrase is, as soon as she had encountered bad weather.

Captain Kelson had accordingly remained on shore from April, till

September; the time when we have thought proper to commence our story;

during which period he contrived to kill time quite agreeably in

fishing, shooting, surveying the harbor, and last but not least, in

paying continual attention to the fair Mary. He had one day made a visit

to Captain Bowline's house, and had accompanied him in a ramble over

part of his farm. During their "cruize," the old sailor had detailed his

plans for the season, and gradually extending his views, announced

certain arrangements and alterations as about to be carried into

execution "when Mary gets married." When Mary gets married! the words

passed like the shock of a galvanic battery through the mind of the

younger seaman; he soon took leave, and as he strolled, unconscious of

the direction his feet were taking without admitting his head into their

counsels, down towards the narrow strip of white sand beach at the foot

of the headland already mentioned, her father's words, the last that he

distinctly heard or recollected, continued to sound in his ears--

"When Mary gets married! well, she must get married some time or other,

and who will it be?" he said to himself, suddenly stopping short. "She

seems to prefer me at present, but I know that when I am at sea she

appears to favor Sam Ingraham, or Ben Bass, just as much. Yet why

should she be so anxious to have me stay on shore to avoid an accident

that may not occur again in a century, if I should live so long, unless

she does really prefer me to all others? I will certainly try to find

out the state of her feelings towards me the first opportunity, and if

she refuses me, I will never set foot in B---- again."

With this chivalrous determination he visited his lovely and all

unconscious mistress the next day, but the fair lady was busy

ironing.--"I shall see her again this evening," thought he, as he turned

slowly towards the town; and see her that evening he did. They rambled

out towards the cape, or promontory, almost invariably the scene of

their summer evening walks; for lovers, after one or two strolls over a

particular portion of ground, regard it as almost sacred; there are a

thousand sweet recollections connected with every step--here they have

paused to admire some particular feature in the prospect--under that

spreading tree they have stood together in silence, busy with their own

peculiar thoughts; and this walk is seldom, if ever, changed--it is

almost like inconstancy to each other to propose a different route.

They had reached the high bluff, and were seated, as usual, upon a

solitary block of granite, which, had they lived in heathen times, they

might have worshipped as the ancient and much respected god Terminus.

Mary, who had hitherto had the conversation almost entirely to herself,

suddenly noticed her lover's abstraction.

"Why, what's the matter with you, Thomas?"

"Nothing; I was only thinking, Mary."

"'Thinking, Mary!' well, do speak to Mary once in a while. I believe,"

she continued, after a pause, and with a faltering voice and feeling of

faintness that she could not account for, "I believe you are in love,

Thomas." She had heard that day that Captain Kelson was making furious

love to a sea-nymph in B----, the daughter of one of the richest

inhabitants.

"So I am, sweet Mary, most desperately so."

"I know it, sir; I heard it all this morning; I wish you joy," gasped

the poor girl.

"Heard of it all! good heavens, Mary, what do you mean? it is you, my

own dearest girl, that I love; who else _could_ you think of?" as he

spoke he held both her hands in his and clasped them earnestly.

"I heard," faltered poor Mary, "I was told that--that it was--Jane

Wilson, O, Thomas!" and sinking her glowing cheek upon his shoulder, she

burst into tears.

Kelson, inexpressibly delighted by this unequivocal testimony of her

love, prest her to his bosom, and hastened to explain to her that the

sole object of his seeking an interview with her that evening, was to

make known his affection; that his silence and reserve were owing to the

deep interest he felt in the issue of that interview; that his visits

to Captain Wilson's were solely on business; that he scarcely saw his

daughter Jane at any one of them; and a thousand other things. What a

stupid, asinine creature is a lover, _before_ the ice is broken, and

what an eloquent, inspired animal, _after_ the _explosion_! A lover may

retire to his closet, and spoil a whole ream of paper with "raven

locks," and "eyes' liquid azure," and "sweet girls," &c. Such an epicure

creature as Natty Willis will befoul you a quire of foolscap before

breakfast in that way--but let a stranger see the same lover in presence

of his idol, and he would think that he was then to apologise for an

assault and battery with intent, &c.

The walk home was the pleasantest they had ever enjoyed--both were too

happy for conversation. They decided, however, before they parted, that

it was altogether unnecessary to communicate to Captain Bowline what had

taken place. "He has understood all along what was the state of your

feelings," said Mary, "and I am sure has always regarded you with

paternal kindness."

CHAPTER II.

O! a most dainty man!

To see him walk before a lady and bear her fan!

LOVE'S LABOR LOST.

The next day, as the old seaman sat by a front window smoking his pipe

after dinner, he suddenly started up with the exclamation of "Hey!

what--what the devil have we here? Mary, love, hand me the glass--a

mariner adrift on a grating, by the Lord Harry!"

The object that called forth this animadversion, and broke a delightful

day-dream that Mary was indulging in, now appeared in sight, having

hitherto been hidden by a thick clump of trees, that bounded the ocean

prospect towards the right. It was a small sail-boat, with three men in

her, that, at one moment directly before the wind, and the next, "all

shaking," seemed rapidly approaching an extensive mud flat, that formed

one side of the harbor, and towards which the flowing tide and fresh

breeze seemed to be fast drifting her.

"There they are, hard and fast! and on their beam ends, too, by the

piper," continued the veteran, and as he witnessed this last

catastrophe, he sprang from his chair, forgetting in his charitable

intention of hurrying to their assistance, that they were more than half

a mile off, and in full view of the town.

"There is a boat going to them, pa," said Mary, slightly blushing as she

recognised at the mast head of a very handsome, fast sailing boat, a

blue "burger," with a large white M. in it, the work of her own fair

hands.

"Aye," said the veteran, reseating himself, "aye, there goes Tom Kelson

in your namesake, Mary; they'll get off with a ducking, and it will

serve them right. Yes," continued he, applying the glass to his eye,

"there goes two of them ashore through the mud, like a couple of

pup-seals."

Kelson managed his boat with great skill, so as to approach the wreck,

on board which still appeared one person half overboard, and apparently

almost exhausted by his violent struggles to disencumber himself from

the wet sail, and by anchoring immediately to windward, and carrying

away cable, reached the boat and rescued the unfortunate man from a

situation that was exceedingly uncomfortable if not dangerous. The other

two, by dint of swimming, wading, and wallowing through the mud, reached

the shore, which was about three hundred yards distant.

As soon as he had ascertained that the man on board the wreck was

rescued, the old seaman, "on hospitable thoughts intent," hastened to

the village to obtain intelligence and render assistance. It was

evening when he returned to his snug dwelling, and then he was

accompanied by a tall, slight made, very fashionably dressed young man,

whom he introduced to his daughter as Mr. Millinet, of New York.

Mr. Millinet, or as he usually designated himself, George Frederick

Augustus Millinet, Esq., was a "dry goods merchant," _par excellence_,

in Broadway, who having a little more cash on hand than he had ever

possessed before, made an excursion to New England, with the charitable

intention of civilizing and astonishing the natives. His debut was,

however, rather unfortunate; B---- was his first "land-fall" after

quitting the high road from New York, towards the east. Fancying that a

sail-boat in a sea-way, was as easily managed as a Whitehall skiff, off

the Battery; he had "put to sea," in company with two little amphibious

urchins that he had hired for the occasion, and who desired no better

sport. They immediately perceived the ignorance of their commander, and

began to play tricks upon him, as man-of-war's men do upon an ignorant

and tyrannical midshipman. These pranks had terminated more seriously

than they expected, and, fearful of punishment, they had betaken

themselves to the water and made their escape.

Mr. Millinet being somewhat annoyed by the sly jokes and grave humor of

mine host, of the hotel, concerning his misfortune, and the giggling of

the waiters and chamber-maids, gladly accepted Captain Bowline's

invitation, and was soon seated at his hospitable and well loaded table,

for the old tar put no great faith in tea and bread and butter for

supper. The knight of the yard-stick had, however, gulped down too much

salt water, and been too seriously frightened to feel much appetite, and

he retired to bed early. The next morning he made his appearance at

breakfast, over which the fair Mary was presiding, and which might have

excited an appetite in the gastric region of the most confirmed

dyspeptic. There were bass and tautaug fresh from the water; oysters in

different forms, broiled, stewed, fried, &c.; a noble ham, into which

the stout seaman plunged his flashing carving-knife, and hewed it in

pieces, as Samuel did Agag, in the valley of Gilgal; there was broiled

ham, beef steaks, mutton chop, eggs, cheese, butter, honey, hot cakes; a

pile of pilot-bread-toast a foot high, ditto untoasted, coffee, tea, and

chocolate. To all this good cheer, their fashionable visiter paid but

small respect, and the old commander, having pressed him to make himself

at home, and help himself, attacked his own breakfast with vigor,

feeling at the same time no small contempt for a man whose stomach could

be so effectually unhinged by a simple capsize, and thorough ducking.

The vender of tape and calico, seemed to feast his eyes, if not his

appetite, by gazing on the lovely countenance of his young hostess; and

after some slight hesitation, commenced talking to her of theatres, and

balls, and assemblies, and fashionable intelligence in general; but

Balaam's ass, if she had marched into the room and commenced an oration

in the original Hebrew, or Chaldee, or Syro-Phoenician, or whatever

might have been _its_ vernacular tongue in which she formerly addressed

her master, could not have been more unintelligible. The old gentleman

made an attempt to drive a conversation, and asked a few questions

relative to foreign politics, the state of navigation, and commerce, in

New York, &c.; but finding his auditor as ignorant as though he had

proposed a case in middle latitude sailing, he dropped him altogether.

He remained in the family three or four days, during which, his

attentions to Mary were incessant, but managed with such fashionable

tact as not to be annoying. She was exceedingly amused by his consummate

vanity and self-conceit; that seemed to make up the greater part of his

character. His descriptions of society and manners in the commercial

emporium, though not altogether intelligible to his fair auditor, were

new and amusing, and in spite of the contagious effect of her father's

contempt, and the troubled looks of poor Kelson, she could not help

listening to him with complacency. It was evident to every body but Mary

that the retailer of ginghams was most seriously smitten with her, as

much so, that is to say, as his idolatry of himself left him capable of

being with any person. And so it proved, for in less time than she had

any idea that it was possible to go to and return from New York, back

came her Broadway beau. Mary opened her large blue eyes in most

unaffected astonishment, as he came up to the door at which she was

standing, equipped for a walk with Kelson. She made no scruple of

consigning him to her father and continuing her walk. The old man

received him, of course, with politeness, and after a short

conversation, his visiter who seemed much embarrassed, observed that he

was desirous of entering the holy state, and then went on to give an

account of his prospects, expectations, possessions, references, hopes,

fears, anxieties, &c. The seaman listened with attention to the whole

catalogue, mentally exclaiming, "what the d--l does all this mean?"

"In short, sir," said he of Broadway, "I have seen no young lady who

seems so well calculated to make a man happy as your lovely daughter

Mary; and if you have no objection, I should be happy to be permitted to

pay my addresses to her, if her affections are not already engaged."

The old sea-dog, who had been rubbing his chin during the latter part of

his visiter's harangue, observed that "his daughter was indeed a fine

girl, and he (Mr. Millinet) had not and could not say any more good of

her than she deserved; that as to her affections being engaged, he did

not pretend to bother his brain about an affair that did not concern

him, trusting that the girl had good sense enough to make a proper

choice; that with regard to paying his addresses to her, he might sheer

alongside as quick as he liked--he would without doubt find her at

quarters and all ready for action; and finally that he, her father,

would not interfere to thwart her wishes in so important an affair as

the choice of a husband, for," (he repeated, with an internal chuckle as

the thought crossed his mind, that his favorite Tom Kelson was beyond a

doubt the man of her choice,) "Mary knew what she was about, and had wit

enough to make a judicious choice."

This speech, an exceedingly long one for him, was listened to with great

satisfaction by his fashionable guest, who thus armed with the father's

consent, as he regarded it, never dreamed of the possibility of any

difficulty on the daughter's part, and looked upon the whole affair as

settled.

In the mean time Mary, regardless of her victory over the heart of her

New York visiter, was quietly pursuing her evening walk with Kelson, to

whom she had made known the presence, in the vicinity, of his rival. Her

lover heard the intelligence with a feeling of dissatisfaction that he

could not exactly define--he had unbounded confidence in his Mary's

constancy and love just at that present time, but, like most men, he had

rather a mean opinion of woman's constancy in general, and could not

avoid applying the general rules that he had formed for himself, to most

individuals. He dreaded the effect of an assiduous and sustained attack

upon Mary's inexperienced mind, from a dashing, fashionable lover, who

held out to her acceptance all the charms and glitter of a life of ease,

and splendor, and dissipation. His uneasy sensations were by no means

quieted by his companion's gaiety, who having at once surmised, or

pretended so to have done, the object of the Gothamite's visit, promised

herself much amusement from his wooing.

On their return to the house, they found the new visiter quietly

installed in the parlor, and waiting their, or rather her, return. In

high glee with the flattering prospect before him, he completely

monopolized Mary's attention, and eventually put to flight the

overpowered and mortified Kelson, who left the house with a heavy heart.

For at least a week Mr. Millinet kept the field; he was Mary's constant

companion, whether sitting quietly at home or walking out; and Kelson,

finding it almost impossible even to speak to her, prudently kept

himself out of the way, well knowing that Mary would soon miss him, if

she had not already, and eagerly seek an interview; nor was he wrong in

his conjecture. Calling at her father's house one Sunday morning, he

found her seated in the parlor waiting for meeting time. In the course

of conversation he asked her jestingly, though with a beating heart,

"what she meant to do with her new lover?"

"I don't know," said she laughing, "he says that he has my father's

permission to make love to me, and he seems determined that the

permission shall not become a dead letter for want of use."

"Your father! I had no idea that he had given his consent."

"My father, Thomas, has given me free permission to do as I please in

the affair of choosing a husband."

"Certainly," said poor Kelson, construing this last speech into sentence

of death to _his_ love.

"And I have already acted as I pleased," continued the lovely girl,

holding out her hand to him.

It was impossible to mistake the meaning of the last words and their

accompanying action, and the delighted seaman certified his full

intelligence and gratitude upon her lips.

"I believe this fellow, my sweet Mary, has made me almost jealous and

quite foolish; but, seriously, what do you mean to do with him?"

"Why, the creature can't stay here for ever, and if he offers himself to

me, I shall say 'No,' in as plain English as possible."

Mr. Millinet soon after made his appearance, and attended Captain

Bowline and his daughter to meeting, to the no small surprise of the

good folks of B----, who, regarding him as the favored lover of Mary

Bowline, could not help expressing their regret that she should have

slighted Captain Kelson, and accepted "that tape-measuring son of a

b----."

What a pity that sailors, and seafaring people at large, can seldom or

never give vent to their indignation without at the same time attacking

the parentage of the object of their resentment. This is decidedly an

orientalism; and I have observed in another place that sailors resemble

the Orientals in their fondness for tropes and figures. The most

opprobrious epithet that a Persian can make use of, when in a passion,

is to call his antagonist "a dog's uncle." No other degree of canine

consanguinity is considered so degrading.

The retailer of dry goods dined at the house of Captain Bowline, and

attended the family to church in the afternoon, but excused himself

immediately after the service was over and returned to the town. Kelson

made a visit to the house of the old seaman just at dark, and on

entering the usual sitting-room he found it unlighted, and occupied only

by Dinah, the black girl, who, arrayed in what the old captain called

her "go-ashore bib and tucker," was probably awaiting the arrival of her

woolly-headed suitor. The old gentleman had gone out visiting, as he

usually did on Sunday evenings, and Mary was in a little back parlor,

where she usually sat in her father's absence, and which was the winter

sitting-room of the family. Kelson had been in the house but a very few

minutes when he saw his rival approaching the front gate. With all that

propensity for mischief that characterizes sailors on shore, he

immediately formed, and proceeded to put in execution, a plan for the

torment and vexation of his antagonist of the yard-stick. He promised

the sable handmaid of his Mary a half dollar, if she would personate her

mistress for a few minutes, which he imagined easily enough done in the

dark, and instructing her "to behave prim and lady-like," went in quest

of the boy Jim, whom he stationed in the entry to open the door for Mr.

Millinet, and show him into the front parlor, and then went to the room

where the fair lady herself was sitting. She was just on the point of

coming to the front room with a light, having heard his well-known voice

and step, but he easily engaged her in conversation; and when, at

Millinet's knock, she was rising to see who it was, he as easily

detained her by the assurance, that it was "nobody but her New York

sweetheart." Every thing favored the mischievous plans of the seaman:

Millinet never suspecting that any female but the mistress of the house

would presume to seat herself in the front parlor, and feeling moreover

the darkness and solitude of the room peculiarly favorable to courtship,

seated himself by the side of the supposed Mary, and immediately

commenced making love in pretty "rapid" style. Finding that the lady

answered only in monosyllables, and seemed more than usually affable, he

ventured to take her hand and gently squeeze it. He was at first

somewhat startled at the hardness and roughness of the palm, but soon

recollected that the country ladies in New England were in the habit of

milking their cows, making butter and cheese, &c., and said to himself,

"Never mind, when she is Mrs. Millinet her hard palms shall be well

rubbed with pumice-stone and milk of roses, till they are as soft as any

lady's in Broadway."

Enraptured by the gentle pressure with which the "black lily" returned

his amorous squeeze of her hand, he ventured to raise it to his lips,

and imprint a kiss upon the short, thick fingers. At this critical and

rapturous moment the door flew open, and the real Mary entered, bearing

a lighted glass mantel-lamp in each hand. With a profound curtesy she

placed her lamps upon the mantel-piece, and gravely asking pardon for

her intrusion, flew into the room which she had just left, and which

immediately echoed with her laughter, lively and joyous, but most

unfashionably loud, hearty, and prolonged. The sable _fair_ one made her

escape at the same time, and received from Kelson double what he had

promised her. Mary, however, as soon as she had recovered her gravity,

joined her new suitor, but all her hospitable attentions were lost upon

the discomfited Broadway merchant, who soon took his leave, overwhelmed

with shame and mortification, nor did he sufficiently recover himself to

renew his visits for two or three days. When he did again visit her

father's house, Mary, who thought the joke carried far enough, treated

him with more than usual attention, by way of apology for her untimely

and mortifying mirth, so that by the expiration of the week he had

entirely recovered his spirits, his self-conceit, his vanity, and his

talkativeness.

CHAPTER III.

You are now within a foot

Of the extreme verge; for all beneath the moon

Would I not leap upright!

KING LEAR.

Shortly after this mad prank of Kelson's, Mr. Millinet invited Mary to

walk out one lovely evening, to which she gladly assented. They took

their way towards the "Whale's Head," a name given by the inhabitants of

B---- to the high bluff already mentioned, that formed the eastern side

of their harbor, from its real or fancied resemblance to the nose, or to

speak more scientifically, "noddle-end," of a whale. A path descended

obliquely from the upper part of the cape down to the beach at its foot.

The whole cape and the land adjacent were comprised in the estate of

Captain Bowline, who kept the paths in good repair, and had been at

considerable pains, when he first took possession of the farm, to render

it perfectly safe and passable, for the convenience of the fishermen,

who were in the habit of digging clams on the narrow beach at the foot

of the hill, and fishing among the sunken rocks at the extreme point.

For the whole length of the path the hill was extremely steep, but not

perpendicular, and covered with short dried grass, which made the

surface so slippery, that it afforded an apt illustration of Virgil's

"facilis descensus Averni;" for though any one might accomplish a

descent safely enough by dint of holding on to the few shrubs and

bushes, and sliding occasionally, no animal but a cat, a goat, or a

monkey, could ascend, if it was to save his life. Near the middle of the

path it was crossed by a deep gap, or ravine, caused by the constant

wearing of a small spring of water that trickled down the face of the

cliff, and which was generally swollen by the melting of the snow, or by

occasional heavy rains. The beach, or rather marsh, at the foot of the

hill, where the little rivulet joined the sea, was so soft and boggy, as

to be utterly impassable. Across this ravine, which was known by the

name of the "Devil's Gap," Captain Bowline had caused a narrow bridge,

of two planks in width, to be built, protected on the outside by a light

railing. On the side next the hill, it was sufficiently guarded by the

crooked branches of a knurly and scrubby oak tree, that grew on the very

edge of the ravine.

Down this path the fair Mary and her suitor directed their steps. They

wandered along the beach as far as the point, the New Yorker in full

chat and high spirits, and Mary's attention almost entirely occupied by

a distant boat that seemed to be engaged in fishing, and which she

recognised, notwithstanding the distance, to be her namesake, the Mary,

belonging to her lover Kelson. Their walk occupied them till nearly

sunset, when Mary suddenly recollected that the tide was flowing, and

would soon entirely cover the narrow beach that they had just passed. By

dint of walking fast, they reached the foot of the path before the beach

was covered by the tide, and commenced their ascent just as the sun went

down.

In the mean time, heavy black clouds began to muster in the north-west,

announcing the approach of a thunder shower, and reducing the evening

twilight to less than half its usual duration. Large heavy drops of rain

were soon felt and heard, rattling in the few straggling shrubs and

bushes, accompanied by short gusts of wind. Mr. Millinet, who was

considerably alarmed by these indications of a violent shower, and who

trembled for the safety of his new Broadway hat, and Broadway coat,

hurried on with the most uncourteous and unlover-like disregard of his

fair companion, who was too much accustomed to take care of herself, to

be at all incommoded by his neglect. They reached the "Devil's Gap," and

the lover strode on most rapidly; he was just upon the middle of the

little bridge, when being startled by a sudden bright flash of

lightning, he stumbled, and in the dread of falling off, laid violent

hold upon one of the branches of the scrubby oak on the other side,

recovered himself, and passed on. The oak, that had long since been

partially undermined by the water from the spring, and which Captain

Bowline had determined to remove before it did any damage, gave way

before the violent pull of Millinet. Mary, whose feet were already upon

the planks of the bridge, alarmed by the rattling of the loose earth and

stones that fell from under the roots of the tree, ran hastily back. The

next instant, the tree, with a ton or two of earth attached to its

matted roots, came thundering down, sweeping away with it the bridge,

and a large portion of the path beyond it. In the mean time, short

violent showers, of but four or five seconds in duration, with equally

short and violent gusts of wind, induced the Broadway gallant to

increase his speed; he had indeed heard a loud crash, but it is no more

than bare justice to him to say that he mistook the noise for thunder.

Poor Mary was thus completely insulated--it was impossible to go back,

for the beach was long since covered by the rising tide--to climb up the

hill was exceedingly difficult, if not absolutely impossible to an

active man--to go forward was of course out of the question--there was

every appearance of a cold, driving October storm of wind and rain, to

which she must necessarily be exposed, with no additional clothing

except a shawl, till the tide had ebbed sufficiently to leave the beach

passible, and then the walk round the point was full three miles. In

this dilemma, far from any human habitation, and exposed to the night

wind, which now began to blow extremely chilly, poor Mary seated herself

upon the bank and wept bitterly. After the lapse of a few minutes, she

became more composed, and most fervently and earnestly commending

herself to Divine protection, she endeavored to shelter herself as much

as possible from the wind; for the rain had now ceased, and the clouds

breaking away towards the south-west, gave indications of a clear, cold,

frosty autumnal night.

Relief was, however, much nearer than she expected. Her father, alarmed

at her non-appearance, and the threatening looks of the weather, sallied

forth in quest of her. He had gone but a few rods, when he met Mr.

George Frederic Augustus, with his pocket handkerchief tied over his

hat, and his coat buttoned up to the chin, "striking out," as sailors

say, like a man walking against time.

"Holloa," he shouted, "you Mr. What's-your-name! where the d--l have you

left Mary? a pretty fellow you are to convoy a lady, to bear up before

the wind as soon as the weather looks misty, and leave her to shift for

herself! not but that the girl is a d--d sight better able to take care

of herself than you are to take care of her." All this was said in

perfect good humor, the old tar taking it for granted that his daughter

had "made a harbor," as he expressed it, in one of the neighbor's

houses.

But the abrupt question had startled Millinet, and he answered with much

confusion and hesitation, "I--really, sir, I thought,--I am sure that

is--I thought she was close behind me--she certainly was a few minutes

since."

Captain Bowline, muttering an inverted blessing upon his fashionable

guest, pushed on towards the path over the cliff. He was soon joined by

Kelson, who had come in from fishing but a few minutes before, and who,

hearing of Mary's walking out upon the beach, had immediately hastened

to her father's house. He too had seen the hero of Gotham; but that

gentleman, not deeming it wholesome to hold much conversation with men

of so little refinement and fashion as Bowline and Kelson, when

irritated, had made the best of his way towards B----.

Mary's father and lover accordingly hurried on, stopping at the house of

old Haddock, the fisherman, who lived near the upper end of "Jade's

Walk," as the hill-path was called, where they furnished themselves with

a lantern, a coil of rope, and sundry other articles that they deemed

necessary. Old Haddock and his two "boys," great two-fisted fellows of

twenty and two and twenty years of age, also accompanied them. They soon

arrived at the Devil's Gap, where they beheld the ruin caused by the

fall of the tree. For an instant a thrill of horror ran through the

hearts of two of the beholders; the idea that the object of their search

and solicitude had been swept away by the fall of the bridge, and

crushed in its ruins, or smothered in the mud and water at the foot of

the hill, occurred instantly to both of them.

From this state of agony and suspense, they were soon relieved by the

silver voice of =Mary= herself, calling from the further side of the gap,

"Here I am, dear father, don't attempt to come to me, the path is all

carried away on this side, and it is impossible for you or any one to

get to me. Wait till the tide has gone down, and I will walk round to

the point."

The sight of the dear girl in safety only stimulated them to greater

exertions; the old fisherman and one of his boys departed to their house

to procure a long plank, while Kelson and the other young man returned

to the top of the hill, and, by sliding and supporting themselves by the

bushes, safely descended to the spot where stood the lovely wanderer.

She was so overjoyed to see them, and so completely chilled through,

that she could scarcely speak. Kelson immediately stripped off his coat,

and insisted upon wrapping her in it; and the young Triton, following

the brilliant example of one whom he respected so much as Captain

Kelson, doffed his "monkey-jacket," and with hearty but rough kindness

forcibly enveloped her feet and ancles in its fearnought folds.

In a short time the other two fishermen arrived, bearing on their

shoulders a long plank. An end of a rope was then thrown to Kelson, by

which one end of the plank was hauled across, and firmly bedded in the

bank. Its passage was then rendered secure by double "life-lines" on

each side; and Mary, supported by her lover and the young fisherman,

safely reached the other side, and was pressed, sobbing with joy, to her

fond father's bosom. The whole party then returned towards Captain

Bowline's house, where the old fisherman and his two sons were liberally

rewarded, and treated with a good supper.

The next morning a messenger arrived from the village, bearing a note

from Mr. George, &c. Millinet, in which he attempted to excuse his

behavior the preceding evening. Mary declined opening it, however, and

contented herself with sending word by the bearer that the writer need

not give himself any further trouble on her account, an answer that was

sufficiently intelligible. But the old commander shouted after the

messenger, "Tell that lubberly _yoho_[2] that if I catch him within a

cable's length of my house, I'll break every d--d bone in his

tailor-built body."

This threat was duly reported to the crest-fallen vender of pins and

bobbin, who settled his bills, and accomplished his escape, with as

little parade and as much expedition as possible; a movement that excited

full as much conversation as his first appearance and intimacy in

Captain Bowline's family; and while one party were confident that he had

only gone to New York to make preparations for his marriage, and another

were equally sure that Mary had, in nautical parlance, "given him his

walking ticket," the story of the accident and Mary Bowline's narrow

escape at the Devil's Gap came out, with suitable additions and

embellishments, and of course the whole affair wore a different face at

once. Old Haddock, the fisherman, was seized upon one evening in a

ship-chandlery and grocery store, that was the usual Rialto of the

loungers in B----, and rigorously cross-questioned. The man of hooks and

lines hitched up his trowsers, and proceeded to enlighten his audience

as follows:--

"Why you see that 'are New York chap and Miss Mary took a stroll down

Jade's Walk as it might be about five o'clock in the arternoon, P. M. as

the newspapers say. Well, they went down Squaw Beach, and so clean away

out as fur as the pint; and when they was coming back, and got to the

furder eend of the walk, the Yorker he kinder shinned up to her, and she

didn't like it, for I knowed all along she meant to have Captain Kelson.

Well, one word brought on another, till finally he conducted himself in

a very promiscuous manner, and she told him to go 'long about his

business, or she'd tell Captain Kelson of his doings. Well, that made

him just about as mad as a hoe, and so when they come to the Devil's Gap

he kinder kicked away one eend of the bridge, and then turned to and

hauled down that 'ere scrub oak that growed clost to the bridge, so's

folk mought think 'twas done by accident; and so there the poor gal was

left by herself till old Captain Bowline and I and my two boys and

Captain Kelson, come there and rigged a kind of trumporary bridge like,

and got her safe over, and that's the whole consarnment of the matter as

far as I know any thing on't."

This account of the affair, coming from an eye-witness, was considered

authentic, being full as correct as the stories of eye-witnesses

generally are. Mary at first attempted to contradict it, but finding her

efforts fruitless, prudently determined to let the story die a natural

death, which it soon did; a tremendous gale of wind and a shipwreck on

the Whale's Nose having in less than a week most effectually turned the

current of conversation into another channel.

Mr. Millinet reached New York in safety, and solaced himself for his

defeat in New England by attention to his pretty person, and his pretty

customers, balls, assemblies, and billiards; in process of time made a

fashionable failure, a fashionable marriage, and commenced business

afresh. To the questions of his acquaintance respecting his excursion

"down east," he was shy and reserved; evading all questions on the

subject by declaring that he had passed his time very pleasantly while

he was in New England, but that the people had some very peculiar and

odd notions of things. In process of time the story of his repulse

reached New York with all its embellishments. Some of his friends were

exceedingly shocked at the idea of his having made an attempt upon the

life of a young lady, for such seemed the tenor of the story; but those

who knew him best fully acquitted him of any thing of the kind, inasmuch

as he had not courage sufficient to offer violence to a hen and

chickens. A true version of the story soon after came out, and Mr.

George Frederic was compelled to undergo the ridicule of all his

acquaintance.

Mary Bowline became Mrs. Thomas Kelson on "Thanksgiving-day-night," as

the New England folks call it, on which joyful occasion the flagstaff

was rigged "all a-tanto," and the colors kept flying from eight o'clock

in the morning till sunset; according to the regulations of the naval

service, and were also hoisted the next day.

It was a leading article in Mary's consent to the marriage, that her

husband should give up going to sea, which he and her father contended

did not include or contemplate his probably making a coasting "trip," if

business required, and Mary at last consented to admit the exception.

The bridge at the Devil's Gap was substantially repaired, and was often

visited by Mary and her husband; and Jade's Walk was long celebrated as

a favorite evening stroll when the weather permitted, not only with

young lovers, but even with "old married fudges," as young ladies who

are husband-hunting very politely call them.

[Footnote 2: Yoho, an animal, probably the ourang-outang, in whose

existence sailors are firm believers, and of whose courage,

intelligence, cunning, malicious and mischievous disposition, they tell

wonderful stories. The word seems to be a corruption of Dean Swift's

"Yahoo."]

* * * * *

OLD CUFF.

* * * * *

OLD CUFF.

"Qualia multa mari nautae patiuntur in alto!"

VIRGIL.

What Yankee man-of-war's-man is there, ashore or afloat, who has "helped

Uncle Sam," any time between the beginning of the "long embargo," and

the year 1827, who does not know or has not heard of Old Cuff? His real

patronymic appellation is nobody's business;--perhaps it would puzzle

himself to give any account of it: nor is it worth while to inquire how

the name of Cuff, generally bestowed upon the woolly-headed and

flat-nosed descendants of Ham, should be given to a white man; and as

for the _praenomen_, as the Romans would call it, of "old," it is well

known to all my short-jacketed readers, that it seldom has, in "sea

dic." or nautical language, any reference to antiquity on the part of

the bearer thereof; but is merely a familiar or affectionate

distinction; as the commander of a merchantman, although perhaps under

twenty years of age, is invariably called the "old man," by all hands on

board.

Old Cuff, when I knew him, was just turned of forty, and was, of course,

of venerable standing; as it is I presume, well known to every body that

a sailor's life does not average much more than forty years, from

exposure, hardships, and privations. Though not stricken in years,

according to the usual signification of the phrase, Old Cuff had

certainly _lived a great deal_, and had seen a great deal, there being

scarcely a habitable corner of the world that he had not visited, or of

the private history and internal economy of which he could not relate

many anecdotes; so that he might, without arrogance or vanity, have

assumed to himself the proposed motto of the Jesuits:

"Quae regio in terris nostri non plena laboris!"

He commenced his career as cook and cabin-boy on board a "horse-jockey;"

one of those vessels which carry horses, mules, and other cattle to the

West Indies; a title bestowed upon them by sailors, who are very much in

the habit of indulging in that figure of speech called by rhetoricians

metonymy; in this instance applying the genuine name of all Connecticut

men, and some Rhode Islanders, to a fore-topsail schooner, or

hermaphrodite brig, as the case might be. He was next, by a sort of

metamorphosis, or rather metastasis, not uncommon with those of "steady

habits," a travelling tin-pedler; and his adventures and hard bargains,

during a visit or two to the western and southern states, might prove

highly entertaining to my readers, had I not seen some twenty or thirty

of them lately going the rounds of the newspapers, which Old Cuff has

often very gravely assured us, in our "quarter watches" in the main-top,

were actually perpetrated by himself. By a transition still easier, and

perhaps more natural, from a tin-pedler he transmuted himself into an

itinerant preacher, and from conscientious motives endeavored to repair

the injury he had done to the pockets of his customers with his

white-oak nutmegs, horn gun-flints, and bass-wood cucumber seeds, by

supplying them with pure unadulterated orthodox Calvinism, fresh from

the Saybrook Platform. Nor did he confine his usefulness to beating the

"drum ecclesiastic;" during the long winters in the country, he "kept

school," as it is somewhat perversely called; whereas, in nine cases out

of ten, it is the school that "keeps" the schoolmaster.

But "the sow that was washed returned to her wallowing in the mire;" and

in like manner Cuff left off steering the souls of sinners through the

temptations and sorrows of this wicked world, or the infant mind through

the intricacies of a--b ab, and once more betook himself to steering

vessels across the ocean. He went to sea as mate, and shortly after as

master, of a merchantman. He was chiefly employed in the West India

trade.

It has been said, that all, or nearly all, the Americans taken on board

piratical vessels in the West Indies and parts adjoining, are natives of

New-England; and it is gravely stated as a reason, that in consequence

of the immense trade between that section of the Union and those

islands, and the neighboring parts of the main land, that are the chief

scenes of piratical depredation and resort; the crews of the New-England

vessels trading, and occasionally smuggling, in bye-ports, become

gradually and imperceptibly acquainted with those of piratical vessels

frequenting those bye-ports and obscure harbors, for the purpose of

refitting their vessels or disposing of their plunder; and that these

acquaintances ripen into intimacies, that terminate in a strong cord

with a running noose in the end of it. The deduction is perfectly

logical, and it only remains to substantiate the premises; and these, I

fear, may be proved, in but too many cases, to be based upon too solid a

foundation to be overthrown by all the incredulous writhings of national

pride. Be that as it may, the atrocities of Gibbs and others have

recently proved, that total depravity is approached as nearly by the

natives of New-England as by any of our Christian brethren.

In process of time the subject of our narrative grew tired of stowing

molasses, feeding horses, or throwing them overboard, and "dodging" from

island to island, and entered the naval service of the United States.

The vessel to which he was attached was stationed in the West Indies,

and had been on her station but a very short time, before that scourge

of no small portion of the western world, the yellow fever, made its

appearance on board. Our navy certainly was not then under so good

regulations as at present. The medical department might perhaps be

almost as good then as it now is, or rather as it was when I was in the

service; the disgracefully penurious compensation allowed our naval

surgeons rendering their station contemptible and degrading in the

estimation of medical men of any pride or ability. Besides this, the

sick at sea can never receive assistance from female attendance; for

although some may deem it altogether imagination, there _is_ something

so soothing to the sick or wounded man in those thousand nameless acts

of kindness that none but woman can think of, and none but woman

perform, that, after one or two visits from the doctor, the patient

feels wonderfully inclined to dispense with his further attendance: nay,

when languishing on that bed from which he is doomed never to rise, his

pillow is softer when arranged by woman's hand; his parched and clammy

lips seem to recover their healthy freshness when woman administers the

cooling draught. When I die, grant, kind Heaven! that the last earthly

sound that murmurs in my "death-deafened" ear may be the kind, soothing,

pitying voice of woman. When this worn-out hulk, strained fore and aft

by exposure and hard service, its upper works crank with vexations and

disappointments, shall be hauled up high and dry upon the lee-side of

death's cove, may the last that "shoves off" from alongside be woman--I

care not whether wife or stranger.

In addition to the want of proper attention, a sick sailor is invariably

an object of contempt and disgust to his officers: they cannot forbear

regarding with contempt a man who is reduced to mental and bodily

imbecility by a disease that _they_ do not and perhaps never did feel:

his pale, emaciated, and squalid appearance excites disgust. I have made

these remarks to illustrate what, on the authority of Old Cuff, took

place on board the U. S. ship----.

Owing to the negligence or imbecility, or both, of the medical

department on board, little or no provision was made for the sick. They

lay about on the forecastle or the booms, and the dead were collected,

sewed up in their hammocks, "ballasted," and hove overboard, every

morning before the decks were washed, that is, between day-break and

sunrise. This duty was generally performed by the master-at-arms and

ship's corporal, familiarly called throughout the service "Jack Ketch

and his mate;" but in this particular ship, and for the time being, they

received the more apposite title of ship's "turkey buzzards." I ought to

have mentioned, that in obedience both to naval etiquette and the

superstitious feelings of the sailors, the burial service of the

Episcopal Church was regularly read over the result of the ship's turkey

buzzards' researches above or below deck.

Old Cuff, who had been on shore with a watering party, where he had made

a pretty heavy libation of new rum, came on board at sunset; but having

a somewhat confused recollection of the "bearings and distances" down

the fore-ladder, he wisely concluded to set up his tabernacle for the

night upon the boom. Long before midnight he perceived the symptoms of

the cruel disorder that had so fearfully thinned the ----'s complement.

His distress increased every moment--he earnestly begged for a draught

of water, but in vain, and before daylight he became insensible. In due

time all hands were called; the resurrection-men commenced their

examination, and receiving no intelligible reply to a sound kick upon

our hero's ribs, the ship's corporal laid hold of him by the heels, and

dragged him into the gangway, where the two functionaries declared him

"dead enough to bury," and forthwith reported progress to that effect to

the lieutenant of the morning watch. "Very well," said the officer.

"Young gentlemen, have a couple of eighteen-pound shot got up; pass the

word, there, for the sail-maker's mate. Boatswain's mate, call all hands

to bury the dead. How many are there?" "Only one, sir." "Very well. Tell

Mr. Quill to bring his prayer-book on deck."

The corpse was soon inclosed in its canvass coffin, with the shot

attached to the feet. The captain's clerk commenced the funeral service

in a hurried, monotonous tone, and had nearly got to the fatal "we

therefore commit his body to the deep," the signal for launching, when

the ceremony was interrupted, and the officers and crew horrified by a

violent struggle of the supposed defunct, accompanied with angry

ejaculations.

"What the devil are you about? Let me out, let me out; d--n your eyes, I

ain't dead yet;--cut away your thundering hammock, and I'll let you know

whether I'm dead or not. This is a pretty how-d'ye-do, to be giving a

fellow a sea-toss before his time has come."

Half a dozen jack-knives were at work in an instant upon the stitches of

the hammock that inclosed the dead-alive--their owners being in their

eagerness utterly regardless of the risk of amputation to which their

haste subjected Old Cuff's nose; who, having burst his cerements and

shaken himself, was conducted below to the doctor.

Death, however, had not yet done with him. His next cruise was in the

Patriot service. Nothing very particular took place, till being sent

with a party "cutting out," as it is technically termed by seamen--that

is, capturing and bringing out vessels lying at anchor in an enemy's

port, he and several of his party were made prisoners, and, according to

the murderous system of warfare going on between the Spanish royal

forces and the insurgents, ordered to be shot. No great formality was

ever used on these occasions, (the Catholic Church, of course, withheld

her consolations from heretics,) and their preparations were nearly

completed, when several dragoons dashed into the "plaza," bloody with

spurring, fiery red with haste, announcing that the rebels were

advancing in great force from the interior. The intelligence proved to

be correct, but the executing party did not wait to ascertain that fact;

they scampered off instantly, leaving the prisoners bound. The Patriots,

of course, set them at liberty, and Old Cuff was thus rescued a second

time from an "untimely grave." (By the way, I never saw any person,

however old and infirm, who was willing to admit the grave "timely," at

any age.)

After many wanderings and adventures, he entered another Patriot vessel,

cruising off the mouth of the river Plata. After making some captures,

they were one day suddenly surprised and completely hemmed in by a

Spanish squadron, consisting of a frigate and four or five other smaller

vessels. Finding escape impossible, the commander of the Patriot brig,

an Englishman, determined to defend himself to the last extremity, at

the same time using every exertion to escape, of which the swift sailing

of his vessel held out some hopes. These hopes were, however,

frustrated, in consequence of the brig losing several important spars,

and being soon rendered almost a complete wreck. In this crippled and

unmanageable condition, she drifted upon a small, low, island, at no

great distance, but still kept up a fire from such of her guns as could

be brought to bear, or rather such as she had men enough left to work,

for, by this time, full two thirds of her crew were killed or

wounded.--Finding it impossible to save his vessel, the commander, who

was dreadfully wounded, and fast bleeding to death, recommended to the

wretched survivors of his brave crew to save themselves by swimming. Old

Cuff and eight or ten others, being all who were able or willing to try

their chance, accordingly took to the water, and reached the island

safely, Cuff himself being severely wounded. The island was very low,

scarcely rising six feet from high-water mark, and completely covered

with a species of wild vine, that, finding neither trees nor rocks to

support it, had formed a perfect cover to the whole island, by twisting

and interweaving its branches with each other, so as to form a vegetable

carpet sufficiently firm and close, in nearly all parts, to support the

weight of a man. Between this singular roof and the ground was a space

of two or three feet, and within this space the unhappy seamen secreted

themselves, not with the hope of escaping, but deferring the fate that

they were certain awaited them. Accordingly, the Spaniards, after having

boarded the wreck of the brig, and, according to custom, murdered the

wounded and mangled the dead, landed a large party to complete the

horrid tragedy by murdering the few unfortunate men whom they had seen

swim to the island. These savages ran about the island, which it does

not seem was more than a couple of acres in extent, yelling like wild

beasts, and thrusting their swords and boarding pikes down among the

vines, with the hope of piercing some of the objects of their revenge.

One of them, who appeared to be an officer, stood for some minutes

directly over and upon Old Cuff, and while giving directions to his men,

repeatedly thrust his sword down through the sheltering vines. The

weapon passed once between his arm and body, and once through his

clothes, slightly grazing his side. His agony during these moments was

horrible. To be dragged out, and murdered by inches, or stabbed to death

where he lay, not daring to move, though the pressure of the wretch's

weight who stood upon him was so painful, that he could scarce forbear

crying out. Such seemed his inevitable fate. But he was doomed to

undergo still greater agony. One of the unfortunate men was discovered

and dragged out within a few yards of him. The incarnate demons were a

full hour murdering him, stabbing and hacking him with their pikes and

cutlasses in parts of the body where wounds would be exquisitely painful

but not mortal. The shrieks of the unhappy man were dreadful, the more

so, as every one of his companions expected every moment to share his

fate. The approach of night at length put an end to the dreadful scene,

and the disappointed hell-hounds returned to their ships.

The next morning, the Spanish squadron sailed round the island, pouring

upon every part of it discharges of grape and canister shot, that proved

fatal to several of the unfortunate men concealed upon it. They also

landed again, and attempted to set fire to the vines and dry grass, but

providentially without much effect. They continued, however, to

blockade the little island for two days longer, when they were

compelled, by bad weather, to stand out to sea. Having ascertained that

the Spanish murderers were gone, the miserable remnant of the brig's

crew ventured from their hiding-places, almost exhausted with hunger,

thirst, and terror. The main land was in possession of the Patriot, or

Buenos Ayrean troops, but was more than two miles distant; and they

consequently had no alternative but to swim to it; which they

accordingly attempted, being extremely apprehensive that the Spaniards

would return. The passage across the straits was long and tedious; and

their hopes of ultimate success for a long time doubtful. When about

half way across, one of their number declared that he was too much

exhausted to go any farther, and after a few words of encouragement from

his companions, suddenly exclaimed, "good bye," and sunk for ever. The

rest, five in number, succeeded in reaching the shore, just at sunset.

After wandering about a mile, they came to a sort of farm-house, the

mistress of which was employed baking bread. Delirious with hunger,

three of them tore the half-baked bread from the oven, and devoured

large quantities of it. They all died in horrible agonies before

day-break. The other two, more prudent, or having arrived at that point

of starvation, at which pain had ceased, ate nothing but such light food

as was provided for them by the humane Buenos Ayreans. In a few days

they were quite recovered from the effects of such prolonged hunger, and

made the best of their way towards the city of Buenos Ayres. Here Old

Cuff found several Republican officers, by whose influence he obtained a

commission as lieutenant of artillery. But, not altogether liking the

land service in the first place, and having moreover ascertained that

the Republic of Buenos Ayres, like that of the United States of America,

was not willing to vouchsafe any thing but hard knocks, and no pay, to

those who stood by her and supported her, in her fierce struggle for

independence, he very deliberately disrobed himself of his regimentals,

laid aside his epaulets, tore up his commission, and returned in a

merchantman to his native country. Not long after his return, he entered

in the United States service, and it was then, that I first saw him. He

was made captain of the main-top before sailing, and I was, myself,

shortly after, stationed in the main-top likewise.

On the passage out to the Pacific, and when nearly in the latitude of

Cape Horn, we, that is to say, a midshipman, Old Cuff, and thirteen men,

were all very comfortably asleep in the main-top, the weather being

remarkably mild for that high latitude. It was the middle watch, from

midnight to four in the morning; Cuff was lying athwart-ships, or

cross-wise of the top, and near the fore part of it, where there were no

topsail nor topmast-shrouds to prevent a fall. There was, indeed, a

"life-line" from the first topmast-shroud, on each side, to the

cap-shore amidships, but it was breast high, and of course afforded no

security to a man who was lying down. My head was pillowed upon Old

Cuff's side, the midshipman's head was on my breast, and the rest of my

earthly tabernacle was occupied as a bolster by as many of the quarter

watch as could get near me. About two o'clock, I was suddenly awoke by

the abduction of my living pillow, and the consequent collision of my

head against one of the top burton-blocks. At the same time I heard a

whizzing noise, like a rope running swiftly through a block, but none of

us took much notice of it; the midshipman growled some at my fidgeting

about while fixing another pillow, but the absence of the captain of the

top was not perceived. At seven bells, or half past three, the

midshipman of the quarter deck hailed, "Main-top there! answer your

musters, in the main-top."

"You had better keep awake in that main-top;" thundered the lieutenant

of the deck, through his trumpet, "you have lost one of your number

already by your sleeping."

All this was "Hebrew Greek" to us, but in a short time the sentry at the

cabin door "reported" eight bells; the larboard watch was called, the

wheel, look-outs, and tops relieved, and the mystery of the loss of "one

of our number" fully explained.

"What did you heave Old Cuff out of the top for?" said the first one of

the larboard watch, whose head came through the "lubber's hole."

"When did Old Cuff, fall from aloft?" said the next that ascended to the

"sky-parlor."

"Old Cuff is done for," said the third that came up.

"He has broke his back-bone short off;" said a fourth, with his jacket

over one shoulder.

"Yes, and four of his ribs to boot;" added a fifth, who was determined

the story should not want particulars.

"The doctor says he won't live till morning," said a sixth, who had not

yet hove in sight, speaking below the top, as Hamlet senior's ghost does

under the stage.

By this time, the whole of the alarming intelligence was fairly

expended, the remaining eight, who made up the sum total of the quarter

watch, having no farther particulars of consequence to communicate, the

first six who came up having already broken every bone in poor Old

Cuff's body, and "abridged his doleful days" to boot. By dint of cross

questioning, we made shift to ascertain, that about two o'clock, or four

bells, Old Cuff had rolled away from under my head, and over the top

brim. Fortunately he fell across the fore-topmast studding-sail tack,

which broke two of his ribs and his fall, and thence he had gently

canted over, and alighted upon the quarter-deck hammock-nettings, nearly

knocked overboard the half-asleep main-topman who was perched up there

as a look-out. He recovered, however, in two or three weeks, in spite of

the doctor's prognostication.

Upon our arrival at Valparaiso, a similar accident happened to him,

that, taken in connexion with the first, formed what newspaper folks

call "a singular coincidence." A considerable portion of the town, or

city, or whatever it may be, of Valparaiso, is built upon and among

several high, rocky, precipitous cliffs, to which sailors, time out of

mind, have given the names of fore, main, and mizen tops. It is,

perhaps, another singular coincidence, that the name "main-royal," that

belongs of right to the highest sail in a ship, is applied to the lowest

part of said respectable sea-port. The "main-top" is the favorite resort

of sailors, but I cannot say much in praise of the moral virtues of the

denizens of said main-top. They do, indeed, enjoy a better prospect and

a purer air than their fellow citizens, whose location is somewhat

nearer the level of the sea, so that their physical elevation gives them

many advantages that serve to compensate them for what they lack through

moral debasement. The part of the main-top that fronts the bay, is a

sheer precipice of two hundred feet; but on another part, it is simply

too steep for any animal but a monkey to make a highway of. Down this

part Old Cuff, who was ashore on liberty, and who likewise had his "beer

aboard," contrived to trundle himself, and was picked up as dead in the

street below. He, however, recovered from this tumble as speedily as he

did from the other, having received but little damage, except some half

dozen cuts and bruises in the countenance, which he held in but light

esteem, being by no means vain of his beauty. I do not recollect that he

met with any more accidents of consequence during the cruise. He

returned to America in the frigate, and I have since been told that he

had received a gunner's warrant, in consideration of his long, and, in

his way, faithful services and many wounds; for I believe he had been

wounded in almost every naval engagement during the last war.

* * * * *

THE RIVALS.

* * * * *

THE RIVALS.

In the neighborhood of Genoa, there lived some years since an old

gardner, who, by dint of most unwearied industry and great skill in his

vocation, had acquired sufficient property to enable him to purchase the

farm that he had hitherto occupied as a tenant. His name was Pietro

Morelli. He had no family but an only child, his daughter Bianca, at the

time of our story in her nineteenth year, and who assisted her father in

such branches of his occupation as were not inconsistent with her sex.

Bianca Morelli possessed all that peculiar beauty for which her

countrywomen are celebrated; namely, regular Grecian features, a clear

brunette complexion, a profusion of raven black tresses, and soft,

languishing, and most intelligent black eyes. Her form was tall,

slender, and graceful, while her disposition was amiable and gentle as

her face was lovely. The beautiful Bianca was well known, and admired by

most of the inhabitants of Genoa; and her sweet face and modest

deportment were always, with them, irresistible inducements to purchase

her fruits and flowers, when she accompanied her father to market, or

visited the city alone.

It so chanced one day, that a party of Austrian officers, who had

recently been quartered in Genoa, rode out to old Morelli's house, to

enjoy what was to them both a luxury and a novelty;--eating fruit fresh

gathered from the trees and vines.--Old Morelli was by no means

ambitious of this honor; he was too firm a friend to his degraded, but

still redeemable country, to desire any intimacy with the military

myrmidons of her Austrian despot; so that, notwithstanding the grave and

correct moral deportment which is said to be the general characteristic

of the Austrian officers, and of which he was aware, he saw their

approach to his humble dwelling with a vague feeling of distrust and

anxiety.

Among his military visitors was General Baron Plindorf, one of those

"gallant militarists" that abound in all standing armies; whose sole

employment, during the "piping times of peace," and in the course of a

soldier's unsettled and rambling life from quarters to quarters, seems

to be, to abuse the rights of hospitality, by carrying disgrace and

infamy into every domestic circle to which they can by any means obtain

admittance. It ought to be a source of pride to my countrymen, that they

are more of a marrying people than the English or French, and do not

regard women in the same degraded light as a gambler does a pack of

cards, that are to be shuffled and played with for a while, and then

thrown away. Our naval and military officers are rather remarkable for

their readiness to form matrimonial connexions; while on the other hand,

our young men who are educated to the law, physic, or divinity, never

think of "setting up for themselves," till they are "accommodated," as

Bardolph says, with a wife, whom the three learned professions regard as

indispensable as Starkie on Evidence to the first; a pocket case of

instruments, or Dawes' Midwifery, to the second; or a Brown's

Concordance, or Calmet's Dictionary, to the third.

Such characters as I have alluded to, it would seem, are extremely

common in the British army; and it is to be presumed that they are not

less plentiful in the armies of the European powers; though it does not

appear that the community at large gain wisdom and caution from the

mournful experience of their neighbors, but rather the reverse; for, if

we may believe their own writers, the footsteps of a regiment, moving

about through different country quarters, are marked by more incurable

evils, and more true horrors, than the march of an invading army through

a hostile, and resisting country. It has been said of the Turkish army,

that they are far more formidable to their friends, than to their foes;

if any dependence can be placed in those numerous writings, professing

to be descriptions of English manners, that find their way across the

Atlantic, the same may be said of that portion of the British army that

is on the "home station."

Baron Plindorf was an unprincipled libertine, cold, selfish, and

unfeeling. He was eminently successful too in his diabolical enterprise,

although there was nothing prepossessing in his person or in his

manners; but he had the reputation of being irresistible, and of course

he was so; for, whatever may be the reason, it is a most lamentable

fact, that to be called a professed rake, and reputed father of some

half dozen illegitimate children, is a man's most irresistible passport,

and powerful recommendation to the good graces and smiles of the fair

sex at large; every woman is instantly eager to call into exercise that

fascinating treachery that ought to doom its possessor to public infamy

and detestation. The next most powerful introduction to female favor, is

to be a widower or a foreigner; though the latter is almost uniformly

"brought to bay," in a few months after marrying in this country, by a

wife and some eight or nine children from "over the water;" the very

next foreigner that comes over _alone_, is snapped up in the same

way--but enough of this.

He saw and admired Bianca, as Milton's devil saw and admired Paradise,

with the prospective determination of destroying its calm happiness

forever.

There was one of old Morelli's visitors, how ever, upon whom the lovely

Bianca's beauty, modesty and grace, had made an impression of a far

different kind. This was the young Count Altenberg, acknowledged on all

hands to be the most accomplished gentleman, and most amiable and

estimable young man, in that division of the Grand Duke's army. Frederic

Count Altenberg, was the son of Rudolf, of Altenberg, an officer of high

rank, who had served his country faithfully, but ineffectually, in

opposing the headlong progress of the blood-stained Corsican. The old

Count had, within two years, been gathered to his fathers, and his title

and estates had descended to his only son, then in his twenty-third

year. At an early age Frederic had received a commission as captain of

cavalry, but as every body knows that promotion is slower in the army of

his Tuscan highness than in that of any other European power, he still

remained a captain of cavalry, and probably would do so unto his dying

day. It was his determination, as soon as he returned to Florence, to

resign his commission, and retire to his paternal estates in Germany,

but "diis aliter visum est," the fates had decreed otherwise. An

indulgent and fond father had spared no pains nor expense in educating

this his only child, and that child had amply repaid his care.

Educated most carefully in the strictest principles of the Christian

religion and morality, generous, brave, and humane, he was, when he

arrived to man's estate, the _beau ideal_ of a man of honor, and a

gentleman. By neither of these terms, do I mean that fashionable

personage whose god is himself, who would seduce his friend's wife or

sister, or strip him of his last farthing at a gaming table, and then

shoot him through the head, by way of making amends; or who scrupulously

discharges all gambling and betting debts; utterly neglecting those of

the poor tradesman, or industrious mechanic, but the "justum et tenacem

propositi virum," of the Roman satirist, the man of strict integrity,

and immoveable principles. Frederic had long since formed a

determination, that as soon as he could clear himself from the army, he

would most seriously incline himself to the search of a wife. Although

considered by his fair-haired countrywomen as lawful game, and moreover

as one who was well worth securing, he had hitherto escaped any very

serious affection of the heart. The beauty of Bianca, so unlike what he

had been accustomed to, had charmed him; her unaffected modesty had

commanded his respect; and when he left her father's house, he

determined that it was absolutely necessary to his comfort, to see her

again. Accordingly the next evening, and the next, and many succeeding

evenings, saw him riding towards old Morelli's cottage; and he had long

been convinced, from what he saw of Bianca, that he had at last found

the woman who only of all her sex could make him happy; which is

precisely what every man thinks when in love for the first time, and

alters his mind in less than a twelvemonth. Nor was the gentle Bianca

insensible to his evident partiality for her society; she detected

herself repeatedly, without being willing to acknowledge it, wishing for

evening--disappointed, if the sky was overcast, or the weather

rainy--fluttering with hope, and joy, and indescribable emotion, at the

sight of every distant cavalier, or at the sound of every horse's hoof

upon the road towards the city. The warm blush, the speaking smile, the

sparkling eyes, of both the lovely Bianca and the young soldier, would

have been sufficient to convince the most casual observer that there

existed the most decided case of a _serious affection of the heart_. Of

course old Morelli's eyes had long before seen and made due report to

his mind, as to what was the true state of his daughter's and the young

nobleman's affection. Ever anxious for Bianca's happiness and welfare,

and still more so now that she had attained that age when female beauty

is both mature and fully developed, while at the same time it has all

the freshness and rosiness of youth, he became exceedingly alarmed and

agitated at the too obvious state of the lover's sentiments. He sought

and soon obtained an opportunity of speaking to him, and Frederic was at

that moment anxious to see the old man, and putting to him that

question, which, whether addressed to the fair one in person, or to her

pa and ma, is always embarrassing; always makes a man look, and feel,

and act, very much like a fool; and when answered in the affirmative,

is not unfrequently the forerunner of most sincere and hearty

repentance. In fact, repentance being so often the consequence of

marriage, (it is gravely asserted by some of the old fathers,) is in our

mind reason why Catholics regard it (that is, the marriage, not the

repentance) a sacrament, "because it produces repentance, which is a

step towards grace." I am so far a Catholic, as to admit most

cheerfully, that it is a holy state, and that there is no text in

scripture more true, than that "it is not good for man to be alone;"

still if I was about entering that holy state, I am sadly afraid that my

feelings would be wholly uninfluenced by any hopes of approaching any

nearer towards a state of grace, not even over the thorny path of the

consequent repentance.

"Signior Count," began old Morelli, as soon as he had ascertained that

they were alone, "you cannot suppose me ignorant of the cause of your

frequent visits to my poor house, or that as a father I am so

indifferent to my daughter's happiness as to see it without extreme

anxiety."

"I was about speaking to you on the same subject," said Frederic,

hesitatingly, "I have already told you that it is my fixed determination

to leave the army, and retire to peaceful life on my own estate. But

although my fortune is princely, I feel it would be valueless without

your lovely daughter. Signior Morelli, I love Bianca; I have made no

attempt to conceal it from you; were my intentions dishonorable, do you

not think that I would endeavor to hide them from a father's eye? Do

you take me for the bold, hardened libertine that would trample under

foot a father's hospitality to accomplish his daughter's infamy? You

wrong me, Signior, if you do; but I cannot believe that in your dislike

to my country, you believe all her children base and unprincipled."

"Nay, my young friend, I believe nothing of that detestable character

can be laid to your charge. But consider for a moment the immense

distance between you. You are an Austrian nobleman of high rank and of

ancient family, and Bianca, on the other hand, can boast of nothing but

her good name and unsullied character."

"And does not virtue outweigh all worldly titles and distinctions in the

estimation of every rational and virtuous mind? Your lovely daughter's

virtues are far superior to my empty titles or immense wealth. In

accepting me as a husband, she would confer honor, not receive it. She

descends to my level; I do not and cannot rise to hers--the gain, the

honor, the advantage, of such an alliance would be mine."

"You are an enthusiast, Count; your passion has gotten the better of

your judgment; that you love my daughter _now_ I am perfectly willing to

admit, but that your affection for her will sustain the shock of the

ridicule of your associates, or the contempt and neglect with which your

proud and titled kindred and countrymen will treat such a wife, whom

they regard so infinitely beneath them, I very much doubt. Matches

between people so widely separated by difference of rank, however

arbitrary and absurd those distinctions may be, can never produce aught

but unhappiness."

The Count was, notwithstanding the reasonableness of old Morelli's

objections, as politely obstinate as young lovers are to old fathers,

when those old fathers condescend to reason with them instead of

resorting to the more usual and summary process of turning them out of

doors, and forbidding their daughters to hold any farther communication

with the dear rejected. In a subsequent conversation with his daughter

he found that both parties were nearly in the same situation; Bianca

with many tears confessing her love for Count Altenberg. There seemed

then but two chances to escape from this state of embarrassment, namely,

either to consent to Frederic's offer of his hand, or to send his

daughter to an aged relative at Padua; which last plan was liable to so

many objections that, after ruminating upon it for two days, he gave it

up, and permitted the lovers to enjoy each other's society, though

without giving a direct consent to their union.

In the mean time the libertine Plindorf was plotting destruction to the

fair Bianca. He well knew that such a woman was not to be carried by the

usual attacks of flattery and money; which last, whether administered in

the form of rich and dazzling presents, or simply by itself, is almost

uniformly found irresistible by old and young women, according to their

tastes or situations; his plan was therefore necessarily more deeply

laid than any he had heretofore practised. It was accordingly with a

mingled emotion of pleasure and anxiety that he watched the progress of

the attachment between the two lovers. Although he feared that her

attachment might prove too strong to be easily shaken, he still hoped to

be able to involve them in embarrassments, and then, under the guise of

friendship and pretence of assisting them, further his own unprincipled

views. The impetuosity of the young nobleman, and certain circumstances

that he could not foresee, brought the affair to a crisis both

unexpected and disastrous.

The Baron walked out one afternoon towards old Morelli's cottage,

without any fixed object, for the unequivocal dislike that Bianca always

manifested towards him, had determined him to cease his visits to her

father's house, and make his approaches with the utmost caution. He

approached a retired spot near the house, where the lovers frequently

strolled to enjoy each other's society. Bianca had also wandered there

in the hope of meeting Frederic. She was occupied gathering flowers, and

arranging them in a nosegay, when a rustling among the bushes attracted

her attention. She hastily advanced towards the spot, exclaiming

"Frederic!" when the Baron, the man whom of all others she most hated,

and, for some undefinable reason or other, feared, stood before her.

"Fairest Bianca!" said Plindorf, advancing, "let me not alarm you,

although I am not the person you seemed to expect; let me hope that the

presence of a friend and well-wisher to both parties is not disagreeable

or terrifying."

Bianca, exceedingly alarmed at the sudden apparition of one so odious to

her, had sunk down upon a rude seat. The Baron approached, and taking

her passive hand, seated himself by her side. Mistaking the cause of her

quietness, he ventured to press her trembling hand to his lips, and

attempted to pass his arm around her waist. The terrified girl suddenly

sprang from him with a loud shriek, and attempted to fly; the Baron

again caught her hand, and endeavored forcibly to detain her. At that

moment the Count Altenberg suddenly stood before them, his eyes flashing

with rage.

"Villain," he exclaimed, as soon as his passion would give him

utterance, "deceitful, cowardly scoundrel! take that"--striking him a

violent blow, and at the same time unsheathing his sword.

The Baron was ready in an instant, but as soon as the Count felt his

weapon clashing against that of his antagonist, he became at once cool

and composed. Not so Plindorf, he dashed at his more youthful opponent

with a fury that had well nigh brought the combat to a speedy and fatal

issue, and compelled Frederic to exert his utmost skill. The peculiar

danger of his situation, and almost certain death or remediless disgrace

that awaited him, even if victorious, for having struck his superior

officer, were present to the mind of the young officer in gloomy and

terrible colors; but it was too late to retract. The fury of the Baron

threw him off his guard--he received a mortal wound, and fell dead. The

unhappy survivor stood for some seconds gazing upon the inanimate form

before him; and as the features, after being convulsed for a little,

settled into the iron stiffness of everlasting sleep, he uttered a deep

sigh, and unconsciously moved away from the spot. At this moment Bianca,

recovering from the stupor into which the terrible scene had thrown her,

earnestly enjoined him to fly.

"There is no time to be lost," said the agonized girl; "fly at once to

the sea-side--go on board any vessel that is about sailing--in a few

days, I doubt not, this unhappy business will be hushed up."

"And where shall I fly?" said the Count; "where shall I go from

_him_?"--indicating the slain nobleman by a movement of his hand--"do

you know what I have done? I have in one moment sentenced myself to

death; or, what is worse, to disgraceful and infamous privation of all

my honors and rank."

"No, no--there is yet time--go immediately on board the American

man-of-war in the harbor--they dare not search for you there."

With many entreaties and tears, she prevailed upon him to take measures

for his safety; and with a lightened heart saw him, from the windows of

her father's house, reach the water-side uninterrupted; saw him leave

the shore in a little skiff, when the intervention of other objects hid

him from her sight.

The two officers were missed that evening. The dead body of the

ill-fated Baron was soon discovered; for many had seen him going towards

old Morelli's cottage; but no traces of Count Altenberg have ever been

discovered. Morelli and his daughter underwent a rigid examination; the

former could throw no light upon the mysterious disappearance of

Frederic, but Bianca, the pure-minded Bianca, unreservedly related all

the circumstances. The examining officers forwarded an elaborate and

circumstantial report of the case to Vienna, accompanied by an earnest

petition in behalf of the absent Count. The Emperor laid the affair

before a select council of old and experienced officers, who, after due

deliberation, and weighing the excellence of Altenberg's character

against the depravity of his slain antagonist, suggested the expediency

of pardoning the offender. Proclamation was accordingly made to that

effect, but without success.

The unhappy Bianca lived to experience, in all its bitterness, that

"hope deferred that maketh the heart sick" and eventually breaks it.

She died in less than two years after the flight of Frederic, a victim

to a disorder that has no place in the catalogue of nosologists, and is

not recognised as a malady; though it is as incurable and consigns

almost as many victims to an untimely grave as consumption, with which

it is very frequently confounded--I mean a broken heart. She was buried,

according to her dying request, in the little arbor that Frederic had

assisted her to erect and adorn, and where she had passed those most

delightful moments in human existence, the days of the first love, and

first courtship, of two young, affectionate, and virtuous beings.

Blessed moments! that occur but once in the dreary threescore years and

ten, and fade away before we have time to enjoy them, and we only become

conscious of their existence from the certainty that they are gone for

ever.

* * * * *

Several years ago, and, if I am not much mistaken, just after the peace

of 1815, an officer, in full Austrian uniform, came on board one of our

frigates then lying in the harbor of Genoa. From the richness of his

regimentals, and a cross and ribbon in his button-hole, it was evident

that the stranger was of high ancestral and military rank.

It so happened that he came on board just at "grog time," (four o'clock)

in the afternoon; and during the interesting moment that sailors are

discussing their whiskey--the whole Holy Alliance, with aids and prime

ministers and protocols, might come on board, and balance Europe, or

upset the scales, just as unto them seemed good, expedient, or politic,

without attracting any attention from these short-jacketed philosophers;

unless indeed some straggler from the upper deck might come below, and

casually inform his messmates, that "there was a whole raft of soger

officers on the quarter-deck;" for be it known to all concerned, that the

word number is seldom or never used by nautical philologists to

designate things numerable, it is always "a _raft_ of women," "a raft of

marines," &c. I could easily go on to show that the word "raft" is a

good phrase, and peculiarly applicable to women and marines; but I must

resist the temptation of convincing the public, that sailors are as

deeply versed in the mysteries of their mother-tongue, as many of those

who stay ashore all their life-times, and make dictionaries.

The day after the arrival of this military stranger, it was ascertained

by the crew, that there was a supernumerary on board by the name of

Williams; for it is as impossible for the commander and officers of a

man-of-war to keep a secret in the cabin, as it is for twelve "good men

and true," locked up in a jury-room. The new-comer seemed to have free

access to the cabin, and was treated with much respect by the officers,

but it was soon observed, by the seamen, that he never went on shore. In

the course of a few months, he was put on board a homeward-bound ship:

and when the crew of the frigate returned to America, they saw him

again in New York, abandoned to intemperance.

When on a cruise in the Pacific, the crew of one of the light vessels of

the squadron were transferred to the frigate that I was on board of;

their time of service having expired. Among them was Williams; and from

his shipmates I learned the above particulars. In person, he was about

five feet eight or nine inches high, and extremely well made. With the

rest of the schooner's people, he had been on shore on liberty, where he

had been continually intoxicated; his face was in consequence bloated,

and his eyes bloodshot and swollen.

I further understood, that he would get drunk whenever he had an

opportunity, and when intoxicated he was completely insane. He was also

subject to fits of temporary derangement, independent of the insanity

produced by excessive drinking, when he was both furious and dangerous;

and it was always necessary, on such occasions, to confine him in irons.

He was also represented as being extremely reserved, and refusing to

answer any questions respecting himself, whether addressed to him by

officers or seamen; that he spoke with fluency all European languages,

on which account, he was extremely useful as an interpreter, both on the

coast of Peru and Chili, and on that of Brazil; that he was a first rate

swordsman, either with the small-sword or sabre, and a dead shot with

pistol or musket.

During his short stay on board the frigate, he had one of his temporary

fits of insanity, probably induced by excessive intemperance, if

intemperance admits of superlatives, while on shore. He suddenly started

up from a gloomy, stupid reverie, and ran about the decks like a wild

beast, striking and knocking down, every one he met; then all at once

plunging down the main-hatchway, he attempted to get possession of one

of the boarding cutlasses, but fortunately they were well secured in the

racks over the guns, to prevent them from falling down with the motion

of the ship. Before he could make a second and more regular attempt, he

was secured, put in irons, and placed under charge of a sentry. Had he

succeeded in arming himself, he would have made bloody work on the

quarter-deck, towards which it seemed evident he was steering his course;

the uniforms of the officers, and marine guard, probably calling up to

his diseased imagination, and memory, scenes of by-gone days connected

with or the remote cause of his present insanity. The officers seemed to

be so far acquainted with his history, as to feel compassion for his

most wretched situation; for, as he manifested no symptoms of

derangement the next morning, except his usual deep melancholy, he was

discharged from confinement, to the great astonishment of the ship's

company; for though the discipline on board was as mild as it could be

consistent with the preservation of good order, and perfectly free from

that tyranny that but too many of our navy officers think

indispensable, they certainly were not accustomed to seeing such quiet

jail deliveries.

Williams afterwards re-entered on board the same vessel that he came

from, and I lost sight of him of course, as our frigate was on the point

of quitting the station to return home. He has, in all probability, long

ere this, reached the grave towards which he seemed to be hurrying, with

all the speed of intemperance and insanity combined.

* * * * *

MORTON

* * * * *

MORTON.

CHAPTER I.

Bel and the Dragon's chaplains were

More moderate than these by far:

For they, poor knaves, were glad to cheat,

To get their wives and children meat;

But these will not be fobb'd off so,

They must have wealth and power too;

Or else with blood and desolation

They'll tear it out o' th' heart o' th' nation.--

HUDIBRAS.

Notwithstanding the success of the many daring and lawless adventurers

who visited the Pacific Ocean, or "Great South Sea," as it is called in

the maps and travels of the period, and who reaped many a golden harvest

there, about the time of the first James and Charles of England, the

coasts washed by its waves were but seldom visited, and its waters

seldom ploughed by any other keels than those of discovery ships for

many years. Chili, Peru, Mexico, and California, after having been

definitively ceded to the Spanish crown, constituted an El Dorado, whose

gates could only be opened by a formal declaration of war. Spain was

generally considered by the other European powers to have a double right

to South America, namely, that of discovery and conquest; and after an

ineffectual struggle to wrest the golden prize from the grasp of its

legitimate possessor, England, and the rest of the "high contracting

powers," acquiesced in her possessing it, the more readily because they

wished the same kind of title should be acknowledged in their own case.

Accordingly discovery and conquest have, to this day, been considered as

good and lawful titles, and a sort of deed of conveyance, on the part of

the natives, to their discoverers and conquerors of all and sundry their

lands and landed estates, together with their goods and chattels, when

of any value.

His Most Catholic Majesty, then, finding his claim to the New World

fully established, set about civilizing his new conquest in good

earnest, and sending out swarms of priests, backed of course by the

military portion of the secular arm, with glory to God on their lips,

and hatred to his creatures in their hearts, with the sword in one hand

and the crucifix in the other, soon convinced the unhappy natives of

their damnable heresies. Their simple religion was destroyed, millions

perished by the sword or the tender mercies of the Holy Inquisition, and

as many more in the mines; and civilization and religion kissed each

other, and rested from their labors of love.

This was the most received method of converting whole nations at once,

then in vogue--we Protestants of the present day are far more humane; we

only distribute among the newly discovered nations of the earth, rum and

Calvinism, gunpowder and the venereal disease, and with these powerful

agents our missionaries and merchants, have succeeded in causing Dagon

to bow down before them--over all the civilized world. New Holland seems

to be the only uncivilized part of this watery ball, but New Holland

holds out no temptations to the missionary; the inhabitants are a little

too cannibally given, and martyrdom is altogether obsolete; besides, it

is doubted by our soundest theologians whether Christianity was ever

intended for a people so brutal and debased.

Spain, at the time I refer to, was renowned in arts and in arms; her

commerce extended from the East to the West Indies, and she was for a

time one of the most powerful of the kingdoms of Europe. Her priests,

finding the New World a land overflowing, not exactly with milk and

honey, but with what in all ages and in all countries is considered

infinitely better, gold and silver, and abounding in every thing that

could pamper the pride and gratify the sense, founded churches and

monasteries, while her viceroys built cities and forts, and South

America became the richest jewel in the diadem of His Catholic Majesty.

To secure this jewel entirely to himself seems to have been his chief

anxiety, and accordingly all foreigners were rigidly excluded from its

sea-ports, and although the "Assiento," or contract for supplying the

colonies with African slaves, was enjoyed successively by the English

and French, both of whom successively abused it by smuggling immense

quantities of their respective manufactures into those colonies, the

duty of supplying them with European merchandise was carried on finally

solely by means of register ships, as they were called, Cadiz being the

only European port where they were permitted to load and discharge.

The whaling ships were only permitted to procure supplies, or "recruit,"

as our unctuous brethren of Nantucket call it, at certain fixed and

well-fortified ports. Still even these managed to carry on quite a

respectable business in the smuggling way, especially with the ports of

Mexico and California.

But a new flea was about getting into Don Diego's ear--the peace of

1783, while it added an infant giant to the catalogue of earthly

"principalities and powers," also liberated from the fetters of

commercial, as well as political restraints, a people active, restless,

daring, prying, and enterprising to the last degree; a people whose

skill in navigation and swift-sailing vessels rendered them absolutely

intangible to an enemy that took occasion to chase them, while their

courage, when they thought proper to "stand to it," as dame Quickly

says, made them dangerous antagonists. This the reader probably

"guesses" must be brother Jonathan, and he guesses about right. The same

spirit of restless curiosity that prompts a cat, when she sets up her

Ebenezer in a new house, to examine every portion of it, from cellar to

garret, seemed to have possessed our grandpas more strongly than it does

us of the present age.

This national character of ours is owing doubtless to our having been

placed by the hand of Heaven in an immense unexplored region, and was no

doubt much increased by the spirit-stirring scenes of the revolutionary

war, which beheld our "old continentals" one day ferreting out the

long-tailed Hessians from the woods of Saratoga, and another "doing

battle right manfullie" on the plains of South Carolina.

While they of the land service were pushing their advanced posts to the

foot of the Rocky Mountains, our seamen were carrying our striped

bunting into every portion of the navigable world. Such were the people

whose arrival in the Pacific the Spanish commandantes and viceroys

awaited with no small fear and trembling. They knew vaguely that we had

just come off victorious from a long, fierce, and bloody struggle with

powerful England, and while they consigned us pell-mell to the devil, as

"malditos Americanos," they doubted whether we had the additional claim

to go there upon the strength of being heretics. The captains of the

guarda-costas redoubled their vigilance, and sailed in chase of not a

few albatrosses and whale-spouts, such was the zeal that animated them.

I should have described these redoubtable crafts, the guarda-costas,

before--they were armed vessels of different classes, varying from light

frigates down to mere gunboats, and were distributed along the coasts to

protect trade, and prevent smuggling.

When however these formidable strangers did arrive, the readiness with

which they conformed to the numerous, and in most cases vexatious, port

regulations, their quiet behavior on shore, and the many novelties and

luxuries that they freely distributed to the port officers, completely

blinded them to the instinctive disposition to trade that characterizes

my beloved countrymen, especially the New Englanders, who were the first

to carry our flag into the Pacific, as they were also the first to

display it in Europe.

I have made these long-winded and apparently uncalled-for remarks partly

to show my learning, but chiefly in conformity with the fashion of the

day, that requires that every story, long or short, should be ushered in

by at least one chapter of prefatory remarks. I do not intend to be so

unreasonable; but before this my first chapter is finished, shall give

my readers an idea of my purposed principal scene of operations.

If then, the reader will turn to the proper map, he will find in about

the latitude of twenty-one north, Cape Corrientes; and not far from this

three islands, called Las Tres Marias; the Three Marys, that is, so

named after the three Marys of the New Testament.

Geographers, when they make maps, seem to start with the notion that

there must be a certain number of islands, &c. inserted in each map; and

when they have located the larger and more important ones within fifteen

or twenty degrees of latitude and longitude of their proper places,

which is as near as they commonly come to the truth, they proceed to

distribute the remainder according to their own taste. In compliance

with this fashion of theirs, they have laid down upon all modern maps,

especially those that are called the best, and in nearly the latitude

that I have above mentioned, and longitude that I have not, namely,

about one hundred and fifteen west from Greenwich Observatory, a little

island which they call Revalligigedos. I have passed twice over the spot

where this little island with the big name "stays put," in all maps by

them, and have conversed with many whalemen and others, who, taken

collectively, have sailed over every square inch of salt water in that

place, and none of them have seen it. So too, they have studded the

ocean off Cape Horn so thickly with islands, that a landsman wonders how

a ship of any size can manage to squeeze through into the Pacific. I

have passed that cape three times, and have been working to windward off

them some weeks, but although we always kept a bright look-out for ice

islands and strange vessels, we never, to use a vulgar expression, saw

"hide or hair" of these supererogatory islands.

But to return; in a direction nearly east from the Three Marys, the

reader will find, on most maps, a small river, called by the Spaniards,

in their usual style of bombast, El Rio Grande, or the Great River;

though the identical legs that I now stand upon have waded across it at

low water, and, except cutting my foot with an oyster-shell, there was

nothing very remarkable in the exploit. At the mouth of this mighty

stream is an island on which stands the town of St. Blas.

The Spaniards, as it is well known, when they discovered America,

christened every cape, bay, mountain, river, island, rock, or shoal

after some saint or other, but the learned are somewhat puzzled to know

who this St. Blas can be. In my poor opinion, the difficulty is easily

enough got over--the word Blas is only a corruption of Blast, and

accordingly we shall find that St. Blast, properly so called, is neither

more nor less than our old friend AEolus, of the heathen mythology,

smuggled into the calendar, who, being the god of blasts and puffs,

might well be canonized under the name of St. Blast, without doing

violence to the tender consciences of the good Catholics. In this way,

according to Dean Swift, Jupiter became Jew Peter, and by a natural

transition, _Saint_ Peter. Whether he is right or not, one thing is

certain, that sundry temples, of which the veritable Jupiter has been

"seized in fee tail," I think lawyers call it, from time immemorial,

have quietly become "St. Peter's churches," to the great edification of

the Christian world, and incredible advancement of religion and piety.

The island, upon which St. Blas is perched, slopes off gradually to the

eastward, but to the south and west descends in a sheer precipice of two

or three hundred feet in height. The town was taken and retaken several

times during the sanguinary war of the Mexican revolution. The last time

it was in the hands of the royalists, they compelled all the male

inhabitants, and, report says, not a few women and children besides,

that they suspected of favoring the Patriot cause, to leap off this

precipice. Soldiers were stationed at the foot of the cliff, to despatch

those who reached the bottom with any signs of life. This piece of

information I had from a widow who kept a shop in the _Plaza_, and who

also told me, "with weeping tears," that her husband was one of the

number who took the fearful leap.

Rather on the north-west side, the hill is surmountable by a zig-zag

path, up which a loaded mule can climb with some difficulty. On the

west, or seaward, side, is a strip of flat land, of considerable width,

on which formerly stood the royal arsenal, rope-walks, and warehouses,

the ruins of which were standing in 1822, when I visited the place. On

the western extremity of this level land is a small village, called, as

usual in such cases, the Porte, or landing place. The bay, which is a

fine harbor, sweeps far to the eastward, when the land, trending away to

the southward, with a slight inclination westerly, becomes lost in the

distance. The more immediate, or inner, harbor, is formed by a point of

land opposite the Porte, on the southern extremity of which is a

battery, formerly of considerable dimensions, and strength, but since

suffered to decay, and is much reduced in effectiveness. It was intended

to command the harbor and anchorage; but with Spanish artillerymen, a

mile offing, and reasonably good weather, a ship would be as safe from

its fire, for three months at least, as though she was all the while in

London Docks.

At the distance of two or three miles from the usual anchorage, and

forming an excellent leading mark for the bay, is Pedro Blanco, or the

White Rock, of two hundred feet height, perfectly precipitous and

inaccessible, and resembling a huge tower, rising abruptly from the sea.

Taken altogether, the bay of St. Blas forms a very beautiful prospect,

with the Andes in the back ground, which, with their

"Meteor standard to the winds unfurl'd,

Look from their throne of clouds o'er half the world;"

its white sand beach, fading gradually away to the south and east, its

town roosting on its barren rock, and indistinctly seen; its low lands

covered with a luxuriant growth of lime and other trees; and lastly, by

way of seasoning, its moschetoes and sand-flies.

CHAPTER II.

A knight he was, whose very sight would

Entitle him mirror of knighthood.

HUDIBRAS.

Tropical climates have certainly one advantage over all others, that is

not to be held in light esteem. They have rainy and dry seasons, that

are exclusively rainy and dry. During six months, or nearly as long, the

windows of heaven stand wide open, by night and by day, and the liquid

blessing descends upon the thirsty earth beneath "in one lot," as

auctioneers say; while on the other hand, the dry season has its great

and manifold advantages and pleasures. With us in the temperate zone, as

geographers call it, I suppose, for want of another name, a man does not

think of riding twenty miles without India rubbers, a great coat, boots,

and an umbrella, to say nothing of an entire change of raiment, if he is

a prudent, cautious old bachelor, or widower; and even then he is as

likely to get a ducking as to have fine weather.

During a tropical dry season, on the contrary, a journey of two hundred

miles may be safely undertaken, without any of these encumbrances; with

two or three clean shirts, a man may scamper about for months, like a

Roman light-infantryman, "impedimentis relictis," unless he should be so

ill advised as to carry his wife and children with him.

Throughout the rainy season, many diseases arise, and make great

destruction among those who remain on the sea-coast; those who can

afford it, retreat to the more salubrious mountain regions, while, as

aforesaid, those who stay behind, being generally the poor, the

worthless, and the useless part of the community, fall victims to the

numerous diseases generated by the excessive rains, and the then swampy

condition of the country. This annual purgation of society, is perhaps

another blessing of a tropical country. I know of more than one

community, whose moral, and in some measure physical health, would in my

mere mortal and short sighted notion of the fitness of things, be vastly

benefited by the visitation of an energetic, wide sweeping epidemic.

Human society is very like a grate full of ignited anthracite coal,

those parts of it that have lost their combustibility, and become

worthless, are constantly filtering down through the bottom of the

grate; and so in society, those individuals, who are daily falling from

a state of grace in the eyes of their fellow-worms, either as regards

fashion, or property, or reputation, go to swell the number of the

outcasts from the ranks of "good society;" a convenient phrase that has

recently been invented, and signifies the speaker's own particular

friends and acquaintances, though he and they may be at that very

moment getting out stone on Blackwell's Island. So you see, reader, that

it is fore-ordained, for I am a good deal of a fatalist, that one of the

ingredients of civilized society should be a certain proportion of poor

miserable devils, such as you and I both know.

It was just at the close of the rainy season, when Nature looked

infinitely better and fresher for having her face washed, though she had

been six months about it; the air seemed purer and more healthful, and

the sky looked clearer and of a richer blue, for the half year's

drenching; it was at this particular time of the year, that we have

thought proper to raise the curtain, and introduce the reader into the

business part of the story.

It was between ten and eleven o'clock in the forenoon, the land breeze

had done blowing, and the usual interregnum of calm, previous to the

commencement of the sea-breeze, had taken place--the broad bay lay like

a huge mirror, varied indeed by the long and regular undulations of the

swell from the main ocean, which, though perhaps sufficient to

discompose a landman's stomach, would not affect that of a sailor, who

would probably testify under oath, that the water was "just as smooth as

a mill-pond." The pelican, that grave and contemplative bird, sat on the

rocks near the water's edge, with his neck coiled up and stowed away in

some recess in his capacious crop, the fish forgetting, or sailed on

lazy wings across the bay, to seek some sequestered spot to doze away

the time, and digest his huge breakfast--the graceful white crane of

Mexico was wading about, flapping her wings, to drive the small fish

into shoaler water, where she might pick them up at her leisure--the

gaudy Spanish ensign, resembling three flannel petticoats, two red and

one yellow, hung lifeless by its staff, as though said petticoats had

just got through a hard day's washing--a soldier, with a paper segar in

his mouth, was lounging backwards and forwards on that part of the

parapet of the battery next the sea, while another, his counterpart, was

"doing military duty" in the same soldierly manner on the quay opposite.

I may as well explain to the reader now as at a future time, that every

collection of houses in South America, however small, has an open space

in the centre, called the Plaza; and an American Spaniard could no more

conceive of a town or village without such plaza, than he could form one

of Mr. Locke's abstract ideas of a horse, which ceases to be an abstract

idea the moment it becomes invested with a body, head, legs, mane, tail,

saddle, bridle, belly-band, or crupper.

In the plaza of the Porte before mentioned was a multifarious

assemblage: the barrack for a captain's guard, with the arms of the

guard piled in front of it, formed one side, and the others were bounded

by the quay or different buildings; a detachment of idlers were sunning

themselves, and engaged in relieving each other from certain troublesome

companions, that _invariably_ infest the clothes and hair of all

Spaniards and Russians, from the king to the beggar; jackasses, boys,

and dogs occupied the rest of the square, and were differently engaged.

At this moment a sergeant ran into the square, exclaiming, "el

Commandante!" The military guard fell into their ranks at the tap of the

drum, the idlers and boys took up a strong position in one corner, the

jackasses were cudgelled into a retreat, while the dogs, like the pigs

in New York, being free of the city, provided for themselves. A moment

or two elapsed after these preparations had been made, when a party of

mounted officers dashed into the square at full gallop, as the South

Americans always ride. The guard presented arms, the dogs barked their

congratulations, and the party, having lighted fresh segars, walked down

to the quay, directly opposite which lay an old dismantled Spanish

frigate, and moored alongside her was a schooner, whose formidable

length of main boom, and raking masts, announced her both a clipper and

a Yankee. She was indeed an American schooner, that had been taken

"flagrante delicto," in the very act of smuggling, for which she was

condemned, and her crew sent to the mines. Such was the jealousy of the

"authorities," that they unshipped the rudder, and unrove the running

rigging, for fear she might go to sea of her own accord, and resume her

smuggling voyage without the assistance of human agency.

The party whom we have left smoking on the wharf, consisted of the

military commandant, or governor, of St. Blas, Don Gaspar de Luna, Don

Diego Pinto, the commander of a guarda-costa of eighteen guns, that lay

in the offing, and which, to the most unpractised eye, bore about the

same resemblance to an English or American man of war of the same class,

as an old, worn-out jackass does to a handsome, high spirited, well

groomed race-horse. The rest of the group was made up of young officers

"of no mark or likelihood," and with whom we have nothing to do, with

the exception of Don Gregorio Nunez, a dashing young cavalry officer,

related to the viceroy, report said his natural son, and report said too

that he was soon to marry the lovely niece of the governor; but the

destinies were altogether of a different way of thinking. His character

may be despatched in a few words--he was a vain coxcomb, his whole soul

lay in his gorgeous uniform, and he had a mortal antipathy to any thing

like duty.

Don Gaspar de Luna, the redoubted governor of St. Blas and its

"dependencies," bore the rank of colonel in the Spanish army. He had

seen some service, having been present at the memorable siege of

Gibraltar, that excited first the astonishment and then the ridicule of

all Europe--astonishment at the immensity of the armament prepared, and

ridicule on account of its inefficiency, in wasting years before the

place without doing any thing. An advanced party commanded by Don

Gaspar, then a captain, had the good fortune to get soundly thrashed by

a sallying detachment from the garrison; and the king of Spain was so

delighted that _something_ had been done, that he promoted the fortunate

captain to a colonelcy.

In early life he had been in America with his regiment, where he had

married a native Peruvian woman, by whom he had two daughters. In person

he was about the middling height, and so far resembled an ellipse as

this, that his transverse diameter nearly equalled his conjugate, or, in

plain English, he was about as broad as long. He prided himself not a

little upon being a "Castiliano," or genuine old Spaniard, and

professed, and probably felt, the most implacable hatred to all

heretics, especially English and Americans; but it was evidently an

abstract feeling, for the moment a vessel of either nation arrived,

which happened very often during the dry season, and the commanders

began to make those little presents that they always found it for their

interest to make, his orthodox zeal began, like Bob Acres' courage, "to

ooze away through his fingers."

Although in the main a kind and indulgent father, his affections were

centred in his niece, of whom we shall have occasion to speak more at

large, whom he preferred to his daughter, and with good reason. He was

fond of punch, such as he used to find in plenty and perfection on board

the strange ships, and which he could drill none of his household into

the art and mystery of making, except his niece; fonder of flattery, and

compliment, and salutes, from the heretical captains; and perhaps

fondest of all of invitations to dine on board such ships as seemed to

hold out hopes of good cheer. When a foreign vessel arrived, one would

think, from his parade and flourish, that he expected an invasion; but

it was all show. He was fond of telling long stories, and of sitting

long over the bottle, foregoing the usual luxury of the _siesta_, or nap

after dinner, to enjoy the greater one of drinking; but, although his

capacious stomach would contain an incredible quantity of wine, no one

could say that he had ever been seen "the worse for liquor."

The duties of his station were but trifling; for, although St. Blas was

a royal naval depot, the commanders of his majesty's ships almost

invariably preferred Callao, on account of its vicinity to the viceregal

court at Lima. Any other person would have pined to death in such a

remote and solitary corner of the earth, without society and without

employment; but Don Gaspar was one of those peculiarly constituted

individuals, who, having neither the faculty to communicate or receive

new ideas, are as happy and contented in one place as another. He had

come down to the water side at full gallop, and at the imminent risk of

his neck, in consequence of a report, that a large, armed English ship,

that was known to be on the coast trading, was approaching the Bay of

St. Blas.

The nautical commander, Don Diego Pinto, was a man of upwards of sixty

years of age, who had grown grey in the navy of Spain, without seeing

any service of consequence. He had followed one of the viceroys, to whom

he was recommended, to Peru, and the viceroy thought he had sufficiently

done his duty to his _protege_ by appointing him to the command of a

guarda-costa of eighteen guns, stationed at St. Blas, and including in

her cruising ground St. Josef, Mazattan, and the entrance to the Gulf of

California. His prey was good, and his duty was light; but all his hopes

of promotion were cut off by being stationed at what was generally

considered the "ultima Thule," the very extremity of the navigable

world.

The Yankees, to be sure, scorned any such fanciful restrictions, and had

long since penetrated to Nootka Sound and Behring's Straits, "the

hunters of the mighty whale;" but then the Yankees were a very singular

and peculiar race, and nobody in their senses cared to imitate them in

their wild, and sometimes lawless, rambles over the face of the

ocean--lawless, I wish to be understood, no farther than in sometimes

forgetting to inquire, in a strange port, whether there was any

custom-house there or not, and in most ports conceiving it to be the

duty of the collectors of the customs to come on board and secure the

duties, and if said collectors did not bear a hand and attend to their

business, why then Jonathan, who is always in a hurry, was apt to land

his cargo without the knowledge and without the leave of the

custom-house officers.

Don Diego's hatred to heretics and foreigners, unlike that of the

illustrious governor, was cordial and sincere, and by no means a general

or abstract principle--he hated every individual as heartily as he did

the whole species. He would never accept or even reply to an invitation

from an English or American commander; and in the case of the American

schooner already mentioned, he had treated the crew with such savage

barbarity, that, but for the interference of Don Gaspar, they would have

perished from starvation and ill treatment. He was by no means a

favorite guest at the governor's house; the ladies of the family

detested him, not so much for his cruelty, for they heard but little of

that, but for his morose and churlish disposition, and, perhaps more

than either, on account of the general belief that his wife, a lovely

woman, and much younger than himself, had fallen a victim to his

unkindness and cruelty.

Women, the dear creatures, have an infinitely larger share of _esprit du

corps_, if I may so call it, or rather a community of feeling, than men.

Nothing will ruin a man's character and good name among the females of

his acquaintance so soon or so effectually as the reputation of ill

treatment or unkindness to his wife, while the men would think but

little or nothing of it. Women think, and feel, and act most correctly

and justly, and in a manner that does them infinite honor, upon this

subject; indeed, I am fully convinced, that on most questions of social

morality, the feelings of women are more pure and right than those of

men. But they have a thousand ingenious methods of making known their

contempt and detestation of the cowardly scoundrel that would raise his

hand against one of their sex, and every method cuts like a two-edged

sword. I have known, and do at this moment know, many men who have

endured the contempt and hatred of their fellow-_men_ with the most

stoical indifference--they went on hated and despised to the grave, but

they made money at every step, and they cared for nothing else; but I

never, in all my life, and in all my wanderings--and I have not

travelled about this watery ball, nor so far through life, with my eyes

and ears shut--I never knew a man who did not wince and writhe under the

hatred and contempt of the other sex. I am not a profound believer in

innate ideas, if they are such ridiculous ones as metaphysicians talk

of--namely, that two and two make four, and such sort of nonsense--but I

do believe in certain innate principles and feelings, that govern our

thoughts and actions as powerfully and irresistibly as instinct impels

the brute creation; and that one of those principles is an innate desire

to please and secure the good opinion of the opposite sex, born with

every man and woman, or at least developed, more or less strongly, in

very early childhood, and that too without any instruction or hint from

others.

While the party stood on the quay, puffing their segars with all the

gravity and silence that was becoming their rank and birth as officers

of his Catholic Majesty and natives of old Spain, a subaltern officer

approached, and, with abundance of parade and obsequiousness, informed

the governor that there was a ship in the offing, becalmed at that time,

but apparently bound in. The officer proceeded to inform him farther,

that there were two American ships at St. Josef, one at Monteny, and

that a fourth had been seen the day before at sea, standing to the

southward. His excellency, though not particularly indignant at the idea

of his principality being visited by a foreign vessel, thought proper to

appear "brimful of wrath" at the intelligence.

"Ah! those accursed and heretical wretches! they swarm upon this coast

as thick as sand-flies."

"And should be destroyed by the same means, by fire," growled his naval

associate; "they should be burnt at their anchors wherever they are

found; for if they have not already been guilty of any violation of the

laws, they very soon will."

"Signor Pinto," said the more humane and considerate governor, "you are

to recollect that our gracious sovereign is on terms of peace and amity

with this new people, who have lately come into existence, and who seem

to be driven by the devils to wander abroad, instead of passing their

lives peaceably at home. We cannot therefore treat them as enemies; and

even when taken in violation of the laws, they must be heard in their

own defence."

This grave rebuke rather mortified him of the marine department, and he

was for a few minutes sulky, which the governor perceiving, and not

wishing to offend him, again addressed him.

"But come, signor, cheer up. I know the sight of that schooner always

makes you feel unpleasantly; you cannot forget how she misled you one

dark night, and well nigh decoyed your ship ashore, by setting adrift a

light in a tub."

This was but cold comfort to the redoubtable sea-officer, who was by no

means fond of hearing the anecdote of the lantern in a tub repeated or

alluded to; and he was about making an angry answer, when the sight of

the schooner brought to his recollection that he had finally captured

her, and had enjoyed the fiendish pleasure of abusing and maltreating

her crew, and that, to crown his triumph, he had seen them set out for

the mines. Poor man! he did not know, what indeed was a kind of state

secret, that the viceroy, not wishing to embroil his sovereign in an

unpleasant quarrel, or, as he was about returning to old Spain, wishing

to leave behind him a character for clemency and humanity, had ordered

them to be set at liberty, and they had actually embarked at Acapulco on

board an English South Sea whaler. This had taken place a full year

previous; and while the vindictive Spaniard was chuckling over their

fancied sufferings "many a fathom deep" in the damp and unhealthy

galleries of a silver mine, the objects of his hatred were jogging along

comfortably towards London, with a full ship and light hearts.

In reply to the governor's "quip modest," he merely growled out

something about zeal in discharging his duty, and anxiety to prevent

smuggling, to which the governor replied,

"There is no danger of these foreigners smuggling, while they are so

strictly watched by his majesty's ships and faithful soldiers. I wish,

signor, you would go out with your ship, and bring this stranger in; I

do not like to see him hovering about in this suspicious manner."

"It is impossible to go out, now that the sea-breeze is just setting

in," said the naval officer, who had no more idea of working out with a

head wind, than he had of flying, though the bay is open enough for the

channel fleet to beat out in order of battle.

While this question was in agitation, an officer crossed in a skiff from

the battery, and informed Don Gaspar that the sea-breeze had set in

the offing, and that the stranger had hauled by the wind, and was

standing off shore; further, that she was an American whaleman, that had

probably pursued her huge prey close in shore. Don Gaspar was somewhat

disappointed at this intelligence.

"I almost wish she had come in," said he, in a low tone, "for, heretics

as they are, and damned to all eternity as they certainly will be, (for

which blessed be the saints,) it cannot be denied that the puncho, or

pontio, which they make, is most refreshing and delicious in this warm

weather."

But as the Yankee manifested no symptoms of coming in to anchor, and

thereby give him a chance for his glass of punch, he yielded to the

suggestion of Don Gregorio, his aid-de-camp; and having lighted fresh

segars, they mounted their horses, and rode back to San Blas.

CHAPTER III.

A lady

So fair, and fastened to an empery,

Would make the great'st king double.

CYMBELINE.

The family of Don Gaspar de Luna consisted of his wife, whom we have

already noticed as a native of Mexico, and two daughters, Antonia and

Carlota, who were rather pretty for Creole girls, and, like the

generality of Creoles, especially when one half is Spanish, extremely

ignorant and vulgar in their language and manners; the last trait being

somewhat characteristic of the Spanish-American women, if we may believe

travellers, to which I may add my own somewhat limited observation. They

are, however, by way of amends, more civilized and sociable in their

behaviour to strangers, and much more intelligent, than the men.

The lovely niece of the governor, the orphan daughter of his brother,

made up the list of his family. As we have no great concern with the old

lady and her two daughters, we have mentioned them first, in order to

get them out of our way; but as the fair Isabella will make some figure

in our pages, we can do no less than devote a chapter, or part of a

chapter, to giving some account and description of her, more

particularly as she differs, _toto coelo_, from her cousins, morally,

and, in many respects, physically.

Isabella de Luna was the daughter of Signor Anastasio de Luna, the only

brother of Don Gaspar. He was an eminent merchant of Cadiz, who, having

found it necessary to go to London on business, had afterwards found it

equally necessary to remain there for some time, to attend to his

mercantile affairs. Here he became acquainted with a Miss Campbell, a

Scotch lady of about thirty years of age, very beautiful, but poor. Her

father had been taken prisoner at the defeat of the Pretender's army at

Culloden, in which army he was an officer, and immediately executed

without a trial, by the blood-thirsty and infamous Duke of Cumberland.

Her mother died of grief a few months afterwards, leaving her an infant,

and the sole surviving member of a proscribed and ruined family. She was

taken, from mere compassion, by a distant relation of her father, and

carefully brought up in the Protestant faith, her parents having been

Catholics.

When about twenty years old, she accompanied her relation to London, and

had resided there some years, when she was introduced to and captivated

Signor Anastasio, and after a long courtship, and considerable

reluctance on the part of the lady, because the lover was at least

nominally a Catholic, she became his wife. They lived long and happily

together, for whether Anastasio's religious opinions had undergone any

change or not, by associating so many years with Protestants, he never

interfered with his wife's religious creed or devotions, and permitted

her to educate, in the Protestant faith, their only child Isabella.

I would advise all husbands to do likewise, in some measure; that is, if

the wife thinks proper to perform her devotions in a Pagan temple, a

Mahometan mosque, a Jewish synagogue, or a Christian church, why, let

her, and welcome, unless the husband is particularly anxious to get into

hot water, and commit suicide upon his domestic happiness; for nothing

so effectually disturbs the tranquillity of a family, as open opposition

of religious creeds. Women become religious, in the every-day

acceptation of the word, from any motive rather than a conviction of the

truth or reasonableness of any particular creed. It would be difficult,

perhaps impossible, to define the motive that carries women into the

pale of any particular church. I have heard of an old lady, who was very

anxious to be permitted to carry her knitting-work to meeting, "because

it was such a _steadiment_ to the mind." Perhaps joining the church has

the same effect upon women in general. I have seen so much discomfort in

families from conflicting religious opinions, that I cannot help hoping

that the destinies will so contrive it, that my wife, if they ever mean

to send me one at all, shall be a member of the Episcopal church. There

is about that church, what attaches to no other sect, a sort of

dignified reserve, that never breaks out in four-day meetings, revivals,

or any other similar ebullition of fanaticism and absurdity.

When Isabella was in her fourteenth year, her father returned to his

native country, taking his family with him, having given up his

mercantile business, and retiring from it very wealthy. The priests, as

might have been expected, were soon around him, like sharks around a

slave-ship, all eager to discover, in his conversation and manners, the

contamination of heresy, with which they took it for granted he was

infected, from having dwelt so long among those obstinate and perverse

heretics, the English; but Anastasio was too well acquainted with human

nature, and with the ways of the world, to be thrown off his guard. He

gave most munificently to the church; and, in spite of all their

attempts to place Isabella in a convent, as a boarder, succeeded in

retaining her under the immediate care of her excellent mother.

In making this arrangement, he was much assisted by a priest, whom he

had formerly been acquainted with, and whom he now took into his family,

as father confessor. In short, by the judicious management of pretty

large sums of money, that he was able to spare, in less than a year

after his return to Spain, Anastasio de Luna obtained the character of a

good Catholic, who had kept fast the integrity of his faith, during a

long residence among heretics. As for Madame de Luna, after having

delivered her over in trust to the devil, the clergy gave themselves

little or no concern about her; though her liberal charity, and the

mildness and sweetness of her disposition, made her friends of all who

knew her. Many a saint, of the present day, holds his character for

sanctity by as slight a tenure, as Anastasio did his as an orthodox

Catholic; and many a modest, unpretending female, has been, like Madame

de Luna, regarded as an infidel, and a vessel of wrath, for not sounding

a trumpet before her, in the exercise of unassuming virtues.

In about three years after his return to his native country, Anastasio

died, bequeathing a large sum to the church, not from any violent

partiality to the Catholic faith, but in order to secure peace to his

wife and daughter. His widow intended to return to England; but her

health was failing rapidly, and in a little more than a year after her

husband's death, she followed him to the grave, with her last breath

enjoining upon her daughter never to part with the faith in which she

had been educated, and never to marry a Catholic, unless she was sure of

the purity and goodness of his morals. This might seem illiberal in her;

but there is no accounting for the prejudices of people, especially upon

religious subjects.

After her mother's death, Isabella had no alternative left, but to take

refuge in the family of her uncle, Don Gaspar, who had already shown

great fondness for her, and who received her with great cordiality and

affection. In this family she was permitted to do much as she pleased;

her gentle and amiable disposition soon won the warmest affections of

her aunt and cousins, and her time passed agreeably, except that she was

sometimes teased by the reverend clergy to enter a convent, and to

"dedicate herself to God;" but as the young lady thought she could serve

God to better purpose out of a convent than in one, she civilly declined

their polite invitations to shut herself in a dungeon.

The same priest who befriended her father, extended his kindness to the

daughter. He was a very influential clergyman, secretly of very liberal

and enlightened views, on the subject of religion; but, not perceiving

any pressing necessity for giving his body to be burnt, he had thought

best to keep his religious notions to himself. He might very easily have

"gained a martyr's glorious name," if he had only been one of those

"Stubborn saints, whom all men grant

To be the true church militant;"

but he was not; and, besides, martyrdom is not near so fashionable as it

was during the time of the Roman emperors, when one saint insisted upon

being crucified heels uppermost; and another, who was very comfortably

broiling on a gridiron, sung out to be turned, when he thought he was

cooked enough on one side. _Our_ clergy are a grave, serious, set of

men, who scorn such mad pranks; they have no idea of suffering

martyrdom, or any thing else, if they can help it. I believe there have

been no martyrs since the commencement of the nineteenth century, except

Mr. Wolff, who was bastinadoed by the Pacha of Egypt, for interfering

with what did not concern him, and some ten or a dozen missionaries,

that would not do something the Cochin-Chinese bid them, and were, in

consequence, made shorter by the head.

The good priest interposed his good offices, and influence, in

Isabella's behalf, and gave her instructions in such branches of

education as he thought were suited to her sex. But, in about a year

after her mother's death, Don Gaspar received his appointment, as

military commander of St. Blas, which, as I have already observed, was

then a royal depot and arsenal; and, though but seldom visited by

Spanish men-of-war, because there were but very few, besides

guarda-costas, in the Pacific, was a place of considerable importance.

Isabella cheerfully accompanied him to America; for, though neither

giddy, nor thoughtless, all places were alike to her, provided she could

be always surrounded with her uncle's family, with whom she enjoyed

quiet happiness.

In the priests of Mexico, she saw nothing but ignorance, sensuality,

bigotry, and indolence, nothing calculated to shake her faith as a

Protestant, or cause her to forget her mother's first injunction; while

the foppishness, frivolity, insolence, ignorance, and pride, of the men,

by whom she was surrounded, most effectually protected her from the

remotest thought of disobeying the second. The men, on the other hand,

regarded her with the coolest indifference; accustomed to admire the

black eyes, and hair, and colorless complexions of the Spanish and

native, or Creole, women, varying from a sort of dirty cream color, to a

deep and beautiful copper, Isabella's rather lightish brown hair, blue

eyes, fair complexion, and cheeks rosy with health and cheerfulness, had

no charms for them; and, while her cousins had lovers, or danglers, by

the dozen, Isabella found herself, to her infinite satisfaction,

completely deserted and neglected, by all the starched and pompous fools

that visited her uncle, during a stay of some months in the city of

Mexico.

She had, on the arrival of the family at St. Blas, contrived to employ

her time in cultivating such female accomplishments as her mother had

instructed her in, and was, at the time we introduce her to the reader's

notice, in her twentieth year. In person, she was about the medium

height of women, or, perhaps, a little below it; and would be called, in

New England, rather a small woman. Her form was exceedingly

well-proportioned and beautiful, although, what may seem incredible, it

had never been cramped, crushed, and distorted, by tight lacing, of

which her mother had a very reasonable horror; and, in consequence, her

movements were free, graceful, and unconfined.

I know very well that the idea of a lady's form being beautiful, unless

moulded by corsets into the form of a ship's half-minute glass, will be

scouted as absurd and impossible; but to the ridicule that such a

proposition must necessarily excite, I can oppose my own observation,

leaving antiquity, with its faultless statues and sculptures, to shift

for itself. The Hindoo women, of whom I have seen hundreds at once

bathing in the Hoogly, of all ages, from childhood to decrepitude, have

extremely fine forms, when young, that is from twelve to twenty-two or

three, at which period they have all the marks of old age. As they bathe

with only a single thin cotton garment, which, when wet, sticks close to

their bodies, and developes their forms most completely, any body that

visits Calcutta can satisfy himself of the correctness of this fact, and

yet they tolerate no sort of confinement whatever about the person.

Isabella's face was of an oval form, with an exquisitely delicate and

fair complexion; when her features were at rest, the expression was

quiet and serious, rather bordering upon the pensive, a cast of

countenance that she inherited from her mother; but her smile was

exceedingly attractive, with an air of frankness and innocence

attending it, that made it perfectly fascinating. Her eyes were of a

deep blue, that, in conversation or when any emotion agitated the

tranquillity of their owner, were extremely lively, animated, and

sparkling. Her eyebrows were very delicately traced, slightly curved but

not arched, as poets and others rave about--I never saw a pair that

were, on forehead male or female, except among the Chinese, and _they_,

in consequence, looked like--no matter who--nor can I imagine how arched

brows can be beautiful.

It was not the fashion, forty years since, for girls to cut off their

hair and sell it to a barber for fifty cents, and then give ten dollars

for a set of artificial curls, nor was it fashionable in Mexico to wear

false hair; if it had been, nature had been so bountiful to Isabella in

that beautiful ornament and pride (it ought to be) of a woman, that she

could save the expense by the arrangement of her own luxuriant tresses.

Her temper was mild, and by no means easily ruffled; her disposition was

gentle, humane, amiable, and cheerful, though seldom or never breaking

out into extravagant gaiety. Like all young ladies of her age, who have

much unemployed time on their hands, and I believe the same remark will

apply to young men similarly situated, she had experienced a void, a

want of something in the heart, that she felt acutely enough, but could

neither describe nor account for; that peculiar feeling that certainly

is not love, but a symptom of the wish to love and be beloved; it is

that state of the heart when the affections go forth, like Noah's dove,

and finding no object on which to repose, return weary and dejected to

their lonely prison.

It is an old adage, that "when the devil finds a man idle, he sets him

to work;" when love finds a heart unoccupied, he soon finds it a tenant,

for it always has been, is now, and always will be true, that

"Love is a fire that burns and sparkles,

In men as nat'rally as in charcoals."

Isabella, almost without knowing it, and without the faintest suspicion

of the real state of the case, gradually neglected and ceased to take

pleasure in her usual occupations; her books, her music, her needle, and

her flowers, all seemed to be equally tiresome and unpleasant. While in

this unhappy state of ennui and loneliness of feeling, peculiar to the

youthful days, or some portion of them, of both sexes, when the mind,

like Hudibras' sword,

"Eats into itself, for lack

Of somebody to hew and hack,"

she was thrown into unspeakable grief and consternation, by her uncle

one day proposing to her to receive and encourage the addresses of Don

Gregorio, as her future husband.

To her passionate tears and entreaties to be spared such a dreadful

calamity, that she declared was infinitely worse than death, the old Don

replied, that it was natural for a girl to be frightened at the idea of

leaving a comfortable home, to become the mistress of a family; that he

only wished to provide for her, and see her well settled in life, that

the proposed husband was handsome, rich, and connected by blood with the

viceroy; and also urged many other reasons "too numerous to mention." To

all which, the weeping and agonized girl replied, as soon as her uncle

was out of breath, and she had an opportunity of speaking, "But, my dear

uncle, you know his character, and why, oh! why, will you sacrifice me,

whom you have always treated with so much affection and kindness, to one

whom every one knows to be a fool and a coward?"

The Don was somewhat startled by this appeal. He was certainly aware

that Isabella was perfectly right in so calling her proposed lover, who

he knew was both a silly coxcomb and a despicable coward, but it was

altogether past his comprehension how his modest, retiring, gentle

niece, had found out two such very important points in the character of

a man, whom he had noticed she seemed to avoid more than any one who

visited his house. But after a few days, seeing that her dejection was

extreme, that her appetite and animation had failed, and she was sinking

under the weight of her grief, and being likewise severely rated by the

wife of his bosom, in a curtain lecture, he relented, and calling

Isabella to him one morning, with many expressions of fondness, bade her

cheer up, for though he wished to see her well married, he would by no

means force her inclinations, and she should please herself in the

article of matrimony.

This intelligence soothed and consoled her, and the rosy hue of health

once more revisited her sweet countenance; her eyes once more sparkled

with much of her wonted animation and cheerfulness, but still there was

a shade upon her mind amounting almost to sadness; her uncle had

unmasked his battery, and she felt that she was doomed to much

persecution, on what, under existing circumstances, was to her a most

painful subject. But the destinies, that manage matrimonial affairs

infinitely better than free agents, were busy on her behalf.

CHAPTER IV.

"Why," said the knight, "did you not tell me, that this water was

from the well of your blessed patron, St. Dunstan?"

"Ay, truly," said the hermit, "and many a hundred pagans did he

baptize there; but I never heard that he drank any of it. Every

thing should be put to its proper use in this world. St. Dunstan

knew, as well as any one, the prerogatives of a jovial friar."

IVANHOE.

It was nearly six months after the warlike and portentous visit of the

puissant governor to the Porte, when he was roused one morning by

intelligence, that an American whale-ship had arrived in the night, and

was then at anchor just within Pedro Blanco. He immediately commenced,

in his usual style of vaporing and flourish, as though this Yankee ship,

arriving without his knowledge and consent, had compromised the welfare

of the Spanish monarchy. Before his zeal had half done effervescing, a

sergeant brought word that the captain and first officer were at his

usual place of transacting business, or _bureau d'office_, and wished to

see him. This piece of information had by no means a sedative effect.

Here was a heretic, not only stealing into the bay, like a thief in the

night, but carrying his impudence still farther, by insisting upon an

interview, and that too out of business hours, with the representative

of His Most Catholic Majesty, by the grace of God, King of Two Spains

and the Indies.

However, he very graciously sent word, that he would attend to them in a

few minutes; and having drank his chocolate, he proceeded to his office,

where he found waiting for him a grave elderly man, and a handsome young

one. The American captain could speak no Spanish, but the young man

could fluently, and he immediately proceeded to inform his excellency,

that the parties who had ventured to intrude upon his valuable time,

were Captain Hazard, commander of the American whaling ship Orion, and

himself, Charles Morton, first officer of that ship; that the ship was

filled with oil, and bound home; that they were out of wood, short of

water, and desirous of obtaining fruit, vegetables, fresh and salt

provisions, and live stock, previous to their commencing their long and

tedious passage towards home; and, finally, that trusting to the

well-known kindness and humanity of his Excellency General de Luna, they

had presumed to anchor in the outer harbor, till they had obtained his

permission to move further in shore, and to purchase their supplies.

The old hero of Gibraltar was delighted: he had heard himself called

general, and "vuestra excellencia" half a dozen times at least; and that

too by a gentleman, whose modest deportment and language convinced him

of his seriousness. He instantly acceded to their request, and would, at

that moment perhaps, have given them his house, if he thought they

could store it away on deck, or get it down the main hatchway. Still it

seemed as if there was something lacking on their part; and he was soon

set at ease. The two Americans communicated for a moment, when the young

man, in polite and set phrase, gave the wished-for, and expected,

invitation to the governor and his family to visit and dine on board the

Orion, the next day at twelve o'clock; for sailors, and some others,

stick to the primitive and convenient habit of dining in the middle of

the day--fashionable people, I believe, don't dine till to-morrow

morning.

The parties then separated, mutually pleased with each other; the

Americans at having their request so easily and cheerfully granted, and

the old Castilian in high glee with the prospect before him, of a good

dinner, plenty of punch, and plenty of wine. Being gifted with olfactory

powers equal to Job's war-horse, he smelled, not a battle, but a dinner,

afar off, or within thirty divisions of "old Time, the clock-setter's"

dial.

The Orion was indeed the American whaleman in sight when the governor

visited the waterside, and was then coming in, but just as the

sea-breeze commenced, the look-out at the masthead reported a large

school of sperm whales in the offing. Although the want of vegetables

and fresh provisions did grieve him sore, yet want of oil did grieve him

more; and accordingly, Captain Hazard, whose ship was but little more

than half full, commenced beating out towards his huge game, which led

him away from the land and to the northward; where, in a little more

than five months, he had made up his quantum of oil; and preferring St.

Blas to Monterey, or St. Josef, he made the best of his way thither.

The governor, having notified his womankind of the whale-catching

captain's invitation, proceeded to hold grave and high communication

with Father Josef, his ghostly counsellor, and the keeper of his

conscience.

Father Josef was a priest, turned of fifty; and, like most of the

Spanish American clergy, who are turned of fifty, and are of any thing

like fair standing for sanctity, was somewhat rotund about the abdominal

regions, and of an apoplectic appearance; that is, his head was firmly

plunged down, and imbedded between his shoulders, without being plagued

with the intervening isthmus of neck, which is so expensive to modern

fashionable ladies and gentlemen, being considered by one sex as a part

of the body expressly created to hang neck-laces, gold chains, and lace

pelerines upon; and by the other, as intended merely as a place of

lodgment for the stock and shirt-collar. This priest's nose and cheeks

bore a large and bountiful crop of, what are sometimes called, "the

fruits of good living;" indeed, his parochial duties were not of a kind

calculated to mortify the flesh; and as his church was well endowed, and

he received many presents from the wealthy members of his flock, it was

not a matter of wonder, that he enjoyed such creature-comforts as lay in

his way; and the Catholic clergy are generally possessed of a sufficient

degree of modest asurance in taking possession of them. In disposition

he was mild, and good-natured, (fat people generally are;) was much

attached to the governor's family, and possessed great influence over

him. He was, over and above all, a man of considerable learning and

intelligence: spoke English quite passably; and, as a proof of good

taste, we add, that he was the only masculine biped, who visited Don

Gaspar's house, who really understood, and rightly appreciated,

Isabella's beauty of person, and intellectual character. As it was well

known that the governor placed great confidence in him, all who had a

suit to the civil or rather military potentate, in the first place made

interest with the ecclesiastical one; and this was soon perceived and

imitated by the commanders of foreign vessels, from whom he received

many presents. This was the clergyman whom the governor now summoned to

a council.

"Father," said he, when the priest made his appearance and bestowed his

benediction, "you are doubtless aware of the arrival of an American ship

in this harbor, and that I and my family have been invited on board

to-morrow."

Father Josef bowed in the affirmative.

"I am not sure that I am doing right," resumed the Don, "in accepting

such invitations, as it throws me into the society of heretics so

often; and you know we cannot touch pitch without defilement."

"We cannot indeed handle pitch without being defiled, but in the line of

duty."

"But duty does not call me there."

"Nay, but hear me, my son; duty requires that you should see that his

majesty's laws against unlawful trading are not violated."

"That is very true."

"And there can be no better opportunity of ascertaining the real

character of these foreigners than by a personal visit."

"A most just observation, father."

"Therefore, make yourself easy on the score of its sinfulness, for there

is none in it."

"I don't see how there can be," said his excellency, who was thinking of

the future punch and dinner.

"If I can assist you farther--"

"Oh, true! you will accompany us to-morrow?"

"Most cheerfully."

"And now, father, I wish to consult you upon another subject. You know

that it is my wish to marry my niece to Don Gregorio Nunez."

"You have said something of this before."

"And she is most obstinately opposed to such a union."

"I can easily conceive it," said the priest drily.

"He is rich and well connected."

"Riches and rank do not charm all women."

"It is my wish to see her well married."

"The woman that marries Don Gregorio is not necessarily well married;

besides, I believe you know his character."

"I think I do."

"That he is a fool."

"He is certainly rather weak in intellect."

"And a coward."

"I cannot deny it."

"And a coxcomb."

"He is certainly very vain of his high birth and of his rank in the

army: young men are apt to be in such cases."

"You would not consent to his marrying one of your daughters?"

"No; I have other views for them."

"And yet you profess to love your niece as affectionately as your

daughters."

"You know I do, father."

"And loving her as you profess, you are striving to render that niece

miserable for life by uniting her with one whom you admit to be a fool,

a coward, and a vain fop."

The old Don, whose intellectuals were none of the brightest, had got

himself, without perceiving it, completely into a _premunire_, by the

Socratic mode of reasoning adopted by his more skilful antagonist, who

at parting once more addressed him:--

"Take my advice, Signor de Luna, and leave your niece to herself on this

subject: a young female heart cannot be made, like one of your

soldiers, to march and countermarch at the word of command; it is,

besides, of very frail materials, and, when once injured or broken, can

never be repaired. The happiness of one so dear to you as your niece,

may be destroyed forever, by forcing her into a match she detests; but

it will then be too late to repair your fault, and it will always be to

you a subject of the bitterest regret and unavailing remorse."

With these words he departed. But the governor, although convinced by

the priest's arguments, and set into profound meditation by his last

words, was one of those people, of whom we see so many at every step we

take through life, who ask advice when they need it, are convinced of

its soundness when given, and yet, though their natural good sense

assents to dispassionate reasoning, return to their old, foolish,

absurd, and ruinous opinions and intentions.

Don Gaspar, therefore, although convinced that he was a fool, and an

unfeeling relation in attempting to force his niece into a marriage with

such a worthless puppy as he readily admitted the proposed lover was in

every respect, continued to adhere to his original intention, which he

thought best, however, to defer for a time.

CHAPTER V.

There is as weighty reason

For secresy in love, as treason.

Love is a burglarer, a felon,

That at the window-eye doth steal in

To rob the heart, and with his prey

Steals out again a closer way.

HUDIBRAS.

The morning of the day appointed for the visit to the ship Orion rose as

pure, and clear, and beautiful, as though no party of pleasure was

intended, but not more pure, and clear, and beautiful, than the weather

always is during the dry season of tropical climates, which, with the

cool and refreshing sea-breeze, is one of the delights of those climates

that I forgot to particularise in its proper place. With us of the

temperate section of this round world the case is altogether

different--the day appointed a week beforehand for a party of pleasure

being almost invariably rainy, blowy, haily, snowy, drizzly, foggy,

cold, uncomfortable, villainous weather; or else so hot that the mere

act of breathing is too much for feeble human nature--and this, too,

whether the party is made for sailing, riding, rambling about in the

woods, or even for dancing, or tea-drinking, or whist-playing in a warm,

comfortable room. This is, perhaps, one reason why geographers call our

part of the globe the temperate zone; because all our proposed and

anticipated pleasures, that depend in the slightest possible degree upon

the weather, are sure to be tempered and qualified by some unexpected

botheration on the part of the weather.

The party from the shore accordingly arrived alongside the Orion about

eleven o'clock in the forenoon, without accident by sea or land. The

governor was in high spirits and full regimentals; Madame Governor was

as stately, dignified, and bejewelled, as became a lady of her station

and rank; the two daughters sparkled with gems and fluttered with silks,

thinking of the impression they were to make upon the officers of the

strange ship; the priest, in sacerdotal dignity, and with his weight

giving the boat three streaks heel to starboard, sat hoping some

contingency might take place that would elicit a present from the Yankee

commander; the young officers, but three in number, including, of

course, the military aspirant to the fair Isabella's hand and fortune,

thought of but little or nothing except their pretty persons and dashing

regimentals.

Isabella, who expected no pleasure from this party of pleasure, but the

reverse, as it would compel her to be for some hours in the company of a

man she had so much reason to detest, sat in the stern sheets, with the

fat clergyman directly in front, and forming an impenetrable rampart

against the impertinent gallantries of the coxcomb Gregorio. She wore

no jewels or ornaments, and from her pensive and serious expression of

countenance, might have passed for an Athenian tribute-maiden whom the

annual ship was about to carry to the den of the Minotaur.

An arm-chair of capacious and old-fashioned dimensions, its ponderous

wood-work carefully hidden by the American ensign, the _fly_ of which

was to serve as an envelope for the feet and ancles of the ladies, was

strongly slung and lowered into the stern sheets of the governor's state

barge, a _craft_ containing nearly as much timber as a fishing schooner,

and about as burdensome. Mr. Morton, the first officer of the ship, and

a remarkably handsome man, now came over the side into the barge, to

arrange the ladies for their aeronautic excursion, safer than Durant's,

for their car was slung with strong hemp not dependent upon a bag of

inflammable gas. As a matter of course, he tendered his services to the

old lady first, who, though she had been _whipped_ in and out of as many

ships as any English dragoon-horse during the war of the Peninsula,

thought proper to curvet and prance, and show as much skittishness as a

mule embarking at Hartford, or Weathersfield, or Middletown, for a tour

of duty at Surinam or Demerara. She was, however, hoisted in without

accident, and received on deck by Captain Hazard and Mr. Coffin, the

second officer, with much politeness. The two young ladies were the next

in order, and accomplished their flight successfully. Isabella lastly

took her seat in the chair without trepidation or affectation of alarm.

Morton's eyes had already done hommage to her superior beauty; but he

was too busy with the other ladies to notice her any farther than as the

most lovely of the female visitors. He now remarked the pensive

expression of her lovely countenance, and it excited in his heart an

undefinable and uncontrollable interest. We have already said that

Isabella inherited her mother's beauty, which had not one of the usual

characteristics of a Spanish female countenance; and it was this

peculiarity that struck the young seaman forcibly, and probably

increased the interest he felt towards her, and the curiosity to know

something more of her history, as he had only understood vaguely that

she was Don Gaspar's niece.

There is a peculiar phrase, or rather word, that I have left

unexplained, and concerning which I will now proceed to enlighten the

terrestrial and unenlightened reader. I spoke of whipping the ladies

into the ship. The whip, then, consists of a tail-block on the main

yard-arm, with a sufficient rope rove through it, and a similar purchase

on the collar of the main-stay. One end of each of these ropes is made

fast to a stout arm-chair, covered generally with the ship's ensign,

with the loose part of which the lady wraps her feet. The other ends are

in the hands of careful, steady seamen. The lady, being arranged and

fixed in the chair, with a "breast-rope" from arm to arm, (of the

chair, not of the lady,) is hoisted up by the yard-whip till she has

approached the zenith sufficiently to go clear of the waist

hammock-nettings, when the stay-whip is hauled upon, carrying her in a

horizontal direction over the gangway, when both whips being lowered,

she is disentangled of her "wrappers and twine," and received in the

arms of a lover, a husband, or a brother, as the case may be. Ladies and

gentlemen, whose curiosity on the subject of whips is still unsatisfied,

will find their theory demonstrated and illustrated by a diagram in

"Enfield's Natural Philosophy."

I have known the somewhat startling nautical command, "Get the whip

ready for the ladies," blanch many a fair cheek with sudden and most

causeless alarm. It cannot be denied that we "gentlemen of the ocean"

have singular names for things; but every thing at sea must have a name,

or there would be no getting along.

I have only farther to remark on this subject, that horses are

infinitely more tractable in taking on board a ship, than ladies; for

the moment the horse perceives his feet are clear of the ground, he

becomes perfectly quiet and passive; whereas, the lady is always quiet

while a handsome young officer is arranging the flags, &c. about her

feet; but as soon as she is fairly in the air, she begins to scream, and

kick, and bounce about, to the imminent risk of her bones; and just at

the time when common sense and instinct teach the quadruped to keep

perfectly still, women, who have but little common sense in such cases,

and no instinct at all, are the most intractable and restless.

Morton followed the last lady, namely, Isabella, and, as he stepped over

the gangway, was accosted by his brother officer.

"What a thundering pretty girl that last one is!"

"She is the governor's niece," said Morton.

"You may tell that to the marines," said Coffin; "I'll be shot if

there's as much Spanish blood in her veins as would grease the point of

a sail-needle."

"They say so ashore," said Morton.

"I don't care what they say; I'll believe my eyes before the best

Spaniard among them."

"Who knows," said Morton, "but that infernal soldier, that's buzzing

about her, may one day be the husband of that sweet girl?"

"There's no knowing," said Coffin, yawning; "but you and I, Charlie,

can't marry all the pretty girls that are like to have fools for

husbands."

As this conversation went on, the mates had walked aft, and were close

behind Isabella, who stood by the companion-way, while the governor, and

his lady, who was not far behind him in corporeal dimensions, were

accomplishing their descent into the lower regions.

"That rascally soldier," said Morton, "wants nothing but a tail to make

him a full-rigged monkey, and that lovely girl is about to be sacrificed

to him."

"Poor girl!" said Coffin; "it's bad enough to marry a sojer, any how;

but to marry such a critter as that is going it a little too fine."

Poor Isabella, who had heard and properly understood every syllable of

their conversation, was exceedingly affected. She had heard a person,

whose appearance and manners approached her _beau ideal_ of a gentleman,

expressing, in warm and energetic language, the liveliest compassion for

her, and guessing (for she could not imagine how he could know with

certainty) her exact situation, and manifesting an apparently sincere

and hearty interest towards her. Although her uncle had forborne to

trouble her upon that hateful subject, after he had first proposed it,

she knew his disposition too well to regard the reprieve as an

abandonment of his original design.

As she turned away to conceal her emotion from her cousins, her

streaming eyes encountered those of Morton. The young seaman was shocked

and alarmed at her tears, though he had not the most distant suspicion

that she had understood a word that had been said. Her beauty had first

attracted his notice--it was so un-Spanish, and so nearly resembling

that of New England ladies; the pensive expression of her countenance

had excited a lively interest and curiosity towards her; but her tears,

the evidence of that "secret grief" that the heart, and only the heart,

knoweth, had called up all the sympathies of his heart.

I believe there are few men, who deserve the name, that are proof

against a woman's tears, and there are few such men, who, when they

perceive a woman, especially a young and beautiful one, oppressed with

grief, anxiety, or distress, do not feel an irresistible impulse to

assist and relieve her.

It may be objected that I have made my hero fall in love at first sight.

To this I answer that I cannot spare time to lead him step by step

through all the crooks and turns of the bewitching passion; secondly,

love is _not_ like the consumption; people do not go gradually into it

by a beaten road, every foot of which is marked and designated by its

appropriate and peculiar symptoms. "Nemo est repente vitiosus," says

Juvenal--nobody becomes completely depraved all at once; very true, but

folks certainly do, to my certain knowledge, fall in love all at once,

and that is doubtless the reason why they are said to _fall_ in love.

Love is like the Asiatic cholera; a man is suddenly laid flat on his

back, with all the marked and violent symptoms, when he thought all the

while he was in perfect health. "Love," says Corporal Trim, "is exactly

like war in this, that a soldier, though he has escaped three weeks

complete o' Saturday night, may nevertheless be shot through the heart

on Sunday morning." In the third place, a man, who for two or three

years has seen nothing in the female form more attractive than the

copper-colored beauties of Asia, the South Sea Islands, and the whole

western coast of America, or the ebony _fair_ ones of Africa, is most

astonishingly susceptible when once more restored to the society of

ladies of his own complexion, and of more refinement than those we have

mentioned. I have had the ineffable pleasure of testing the truth of

this theory more than a dozen times in my own person. If any gentleman

doubts the fact, I can only advise him to banish himself from female

society, in a man-of-war or whaleman, for three or four years. If he

does not fall in love fifty times a month, when he returns, he is either

more or less than human, and, in either case, I should wish to remain a

stranger to him.

The whole party were now "under hatches," and examining the wonders of a

whaleman's cabin. Morton had attached himself to Isabella, and, as he

spoke the Spanish language fluently, and, what was more to the purpose,

was impelled by an irresistible feeling to entertain and amuse her, soon

drew her into conversation, and was astonished and delighted with her

good sense. He had visited different parts of South America before, and

had seen enough of the women to perceive that they were excessively

ignorant, superstitious, and vulgar. He was therefore not a little

surprised to perceive in Isabella's conversation marks of a cultivated

and polished understanding.

The rest of the party had gone into the steerage to examine some of

those curious specimens of whalebone work, in the fabrication of which

whalemen employ so much patience and time, during their long and often

unsuccessful voyages. As Isabella and Morton stood together by the cabin

table, the lady opened a bible that was lying there, and seemed for a

moment or two engaged in reading it.

"Do you understand that?" said the seaman, still speaking Spanish.

"Yes," she replied, in English, "my mother was a Scotchwoman, and a

Protestant."

"Good heavens! then I am afraid--I am sure--that--in short, I believe

that something was said before you came below, that must have been

unpleasant--that, indeed, could not but hurt your feelings."

Isabella was extremely agitated, and turned away her head.

"What would I not give," continued he, in a low voice, "what would I not

sacrifice, to be able--to be permitted, to assist you in any way."

He stopped, scarcely knowing what he said, or hardly knowing whether he

had spoken at all. The poor girl raised her swimming eyes in

supplication.

"For heaven's sake! drop this subject; if my uncle knew that you had

spoken thus to me, he would carry me back immediately."

"But tell me, dearest lady, tell me, is there no way in which I can be

of service to you?"

"No, no, no, leave me; if you have any regard for me, leave me. I thank

you for the interest you have shown for me; but it will avail nothing."

The tone of extreme dejection, and melancholy, in which she pronounced

these last words, almost drove Morton beside himself. He was completely

bewildered with conflicting emotions--a young and beautiful woman,

lovely in person and in mind, and, what made her irresistible to an

unsophisticated, warm, generous, and feeling heart, in

affliction--affliction that seemed more remediless, because not

understood by one, nor communicated by the other.

From this situation of mutual embarrassment, they were relieved by the

entrance of one of the young ladies, who came to call her cousin into

the steerage, to see the wonders already alluded to. Luckily, Carlota,

although a good-natured girl, and fond of her cousin Isabella, was not

remarkably keen-sighted, or she must have noticed the agitation and

embarrassment of both parties.

In the meantime, Mr. Coffin, who had a large share of a particular kind

of shrewdness, had noticed that his friend seemed inclined to enjoy the

society of Isabella uninterrupted; and, to assist that manoeuvre as

much as possible, engaged the young officers with some tremendous tough

fish stories, in which he was ably supported by one of the

boat-steerers, a Portuguese, who spoke Spanish, as a matter of course,

and helped out his officer, when his imperfect knowledge of the

language brought him to a stand still. So he managed to hold them, as

jackasses are held,--by the ears,--till he saw his companion and the

young lady come into the steerage, when he broke off somewhat abruptly,

in the middle of a very tough yarn, leaving the gentlemen of the sword

to guess at the catastrophe.

As the party stood around a chest, upon which these whalebone toys, and

other curiosities, were displayed, Antonia dropt a bouquet from her

bosom. As Morton picked it up, and returned it to its fair owner, he

made some remark upon the beauty, and fragrance, of the flowers.

"Are you fond of flowers?" said the young lady.

"Yes, very."

"That I can answer for," said Coffin; "he is always, when on shore for

wood, water, or pleasure, in search of rare flowers, and shells. It is

well there are no such things at sea, or we should never have taken a

single whale--and then he paints those he finds so beautifully."

"What! _he_ paint flowers! a _man_ paint flowers! Santa Maria! who ever

heard of such a thing!" echoed the two young ladies.

"And why not, my children," said the fat priest, laughing; "do you

ladies think you have an exclusive title, and right, to all the elegant

accomplishments?"

"I do not doubt," said Coffin, "that Signor Morton would be proud to

show the ladies his drawings. Come, Charlie," he continued, in English,

"you shall not keep your candle under a bushel any longer--you see

you're in for it, and you may as well submit with a good grace."

So saying, he led the way to the cabin, where the drawings were paraded

upon the table. They were certainly very beautiful; for to a fondness

for the "serene and silent art," Morton added a natural taste for it,

which he had ample leisure to cultivate, during his long voyages. After

admiring them for some time, Madame de Luna gave the artist a cordial

invitation to visit their house, and garden, a mile or two beyond the

town; in the latter, she assured him, he would find some rare and

beautiful subjects for his pencil. Morton was exceedingly gratified by

this kindness, and said, in a low voice, and in English, to Isabella,

but without looking at, or apparently addressing, her, as she stood next

him, "Then I shall have the happiness of seeing you once more."

CHAPTER VI.

Love's power's too great to be withstood

By feeble human flesh and blood.

'Twas he that brought upon his knees

The hect'ring kil-cow Hercules;

Transform'd his leaguer-lion's skin

T' a petticoat, and made him spin;

Seiz'd on his club, and made it dwindle

T' a feeble distaff and a spindle.

HUDIBRAS.

The dinner on board the Orion, which was not served up till one o'clock,

by the way, as Captain Hazard wished to be more than usually genteel,

was excellent, and was preceded, and followed, by copious libations of

punch; after which the wine was set on table, and the veterans, that is,

the military, the nautical, and ecclesiastical, part of the company,

proceeded to discuss it, "in manner and form." The governor, as was his

custom on such occasions, told interminable stories of the siege of

Gibraltar, during which, his hopeful nephew elect enjoyed a very

comfortable nap, and even Father Josef nodded occasionally.

The ladies had made their escape, as soon us dinner was finished; and

Morton, on the watch, like a cat to steal cream, was on the alert, as

soon as he perceived their intentions, and accompanied them on deck. To

his great satisfaction, none of the Spanish officers made any attempt to

leave the table; for, as the old Don had just got fairly under weigh

with one of his campaigning stories, they were afraid to treat him with

so much disrespect, and, of course, hazard their hopes of being invited

to attend him again upon a similar party. Accordingly, Morton had the

pleasure of enjoying the society of the ladies, without interruption,

and found many opportunities of saying a few words to Isabella. In this,

he was again much beholden to the skilful manoeuvring of his messmate,

Coffin, who was already higher in the good graces of the mother and

daughters than Morton, who, though a handsome man, had not so much of

that dashing, off-hand, sort of gallantry as the other; and which goes

an incredible way with most ladies.

Morton had seen more of the polite world, and was better educated, and

more refined in his manners, than Coffin; but, besides being, at that

time, wholly engrossed and engaged by a particular object, he had that

peculiar kind of modesty, or diffidence, that does a man so much injury

with the other sex; who, though they pretend to prize modesty so highly

among themselves, abominate it as unnatural, absurd, and affected, in

men; while the pert and obsequious fluttering of a fashionable

water-fly, which is always received with a smile, is generally more

prized, and rewarded more bountifully still. There is, however, some

consolation in the thought, that repentance always overtakes, and

punishes, the silly woman who has allowed herself to be so fatally

"pleased with a rattle;" she perceives, after marriage, that she has

given herself irrevocably to a thing "of shreds and patches."

There is a certain sort of little attentions, that ladies generally

expect from our sex, and a skill and adroitness in showing which makes

no inconsiderable part of a modern gentleman's education. I have known

many young men, who could not write two consecutive sentences, without

coming to an open rupture with orthography, grammar, or common sense, or

all three, if it was to save their well-_stocked_ necks from the halter,

or their souls, (what of that commodity they have,) from Satan's grip,

but who stood very high, and, doubtless, deservedly so, in the

estimation of the fair sex, simply from their skill and precision in

going through a certain routine of little trifling acts of politeness.

As far as ladies are concerned, politeness appears to consist chiefly in

a man's putting himself to more or less inconvenience, or exposing

himself to danger, on their account. With regard to the last, I do not

know but I could acquit myself to advantage, partly from the peculiar

recklessness that is acquired at sea; and partly because facing danger,

in the protection of the weaker sex, is both the duty of the stronger,

and the stronger generally can do it with less embarrassment, than

perform those innumerable, nameless, attentions, already alluded to. I

cannot say, however, that when walking out with ladies, I have felt

peculiarly desirous of the apparition of a mad bull, a ghost, or the

devil, to give me an opportunity to show my courage; but I think it is

certainly easier to most men to expose themselves to danger, in the

service of a lady, than to perform acceptably, and without awkwardness,

those little acts of politeness, that, in the present state of society,

ladies are somewhat rigorous in exacting. I have passed the very cream

and flower of my life at sea, that is, from nineteen to thirty-two, and

now, "in these latter days," begin to feel myself very much like a fish

out of water. How often have I "sailed into the northward" of a fair

lady's displeasure, for neglecting to assist her into, or out of, a

carriage! never dreaming, "poor ignorant sinner" that I am! that the

ascent up the steps of a coach was attended with any more perils, than

that of the stairs that lead to her bed-room; or that a girl, perhaps

twenty years my junior, glowing in the full bloom of youth, health, and

sprightliness, and with a step as light and elastic as Virgil's Camilla,

required the assistance of such an old weather-beaten beau as myself.

How often have I been pouted at by the ripest, rosiest, lips in the

world, for omitting to wait upon their owner home, on a dark, stormy,

evening, and half a mile out of my way, simply because I preferred the

company I was with, to the half-mile _heat_! I do not know that I have

ever felt very desirous of living my life over again; but I confess I

should like to go back, say, to the age of three or four and twenty,

merely to take a few lessons in the graces, and then "jump the life to

come," as far as where I am now, namely, _thirty or forty_.

By Mr. Coffin's management, Morton and Isabella were much of the time

together, and both instinctively avoided any allusion to painful

subjects. He described to her the various implements used in the

whale-fishery, gave her a short account of the voyage, and of the

different parts of America, and of the islands in the Pacific, that he

had visited; and, in short, exerted himself to please and entertain her,

and was successful.

When in the society of those we love, and from whom we are soon to

separate, perhaps forever, how much we can manage to say in a little

time! how earnestly do we strive to render delightful those moments,

perhaps the last that we are ever to pass with those friends! Dr.

Johnson says, the approach of death wonderfully concentrates one's

ideas; so does the approach of the hour of parting.

Isabella heard herself, for the first time, for many years, addressed in

the language of respectful politeness, and unassuming common sense; the

pictures of refined, polished, and enlightened, society, drawn in the

few excellent English authors her mother had left her, seemed realized

and presented to her eyes, in all the richness of life. She did not

stop to analyse, or try to explain to herself the peculiarly delightful

feelings that occupied her mind; though if she had been left alone for

five minutes, her own good sense would have told her it was love: that

pure, unalloyed, unreflecting, ardent, _first_ love, that, like the

whooping-cough and the measles, we never have but once; though some

patients have it earlier in life, and more severely, than others.

Ladies will never admit, and never have admitted, from the time the

stone-masons and hod-carriers struck work upon the tower of Babel, (for

want of a circulating medium of speech, that would be taken at par by

all hands, down to the present Anno Domini, 1834, and twenty-second of

October,) that any of their sisterhood ever fell in love "at sight," as

brokers call it, or that her eyes influenced her heart. With regard to

the female, who, in early life, takes up the "trade and mystery" of a

fashionable belle, _ex officio_ a coquet and a flirt, this is in some

measure true; for I have observed, that very beautiful women of that

description, who have had at their feet wealth, and talent, and

eloquence, and virtue, generally "close their concerns" by marrying

sots, fools, gamblers, rakes, or brutes; they seem to choose their

husbands as old maiden ladies do their lap-dogs; which are invariably

the most cross, ugly, ill-tempered, filthy, noisy, little scoundrels,

that the entire canine family can muster. But their practice is at

variance with their profession. It is physically and morally impossible

that women, whose chief strength consists in external appearance and

show, should hold in light esteem external appearance and show in our

sex; and, if they are not guided by their eyes in the choice of their

lovers, I should like to know what the d--l they are guided by; for in a

company of feather-pated girls, the chief object of ridicule is the

personal defects of their male acquaintance.

Time, that stands still with married men, and sometimes with old

bachelors, flies with lovers; and the sun's "lower limb" was dipping in

the haze, that skirted the western horizon, when the steward came on

deck, and informed the ladies and gentlemen that coffee was ready, and,

accordingly, they descended into the cabin. After this refreshment,

preparations were made for going ashore. Morton and Coffin ran on deck,

to get the whips ready; and the former, calling his own boat's crew aft,

had his boat lowered down from the quarter-davits, and brought to the

gangway, while the governor's bargemen were lighting fresh segars. With

a few words of explanation to the second officer, Morton sprang into his

boat, and, in a few minutes, Isabella and her two cousins were safely

stowed in the stern-sheets. The bowman obeyed the command, "shove off;"

the swift boat, impelled by five strong-limbed seamen, flew like a

swallow across the bay, and reached the landing-place at least ten

minutes before the cumbrous barge of his excellency bounced her broad

nose against the side of the quay, and recoiled, like a battering-ram.

Morton improved the time he was on the shore with the ladies, by paying

more attention to the governor's daughters than he had done heretofore,

and easily succeeded in entertaining them. They repeated their mother's

invitation to the young seaman to visit their house, declaring they had

never seen any foreign gentleman that spoke such pure Spanish; that the

Americans were much more polite, and respectful, and hospitable, and

obliging, than the English; and concluded, by wondering why, if the

United States were so near Mexico, it should take six months to go from

St. Blas there. To all which Morton made the appropriate replies; and,

when the rest of the party were assembled, assisted the ladies to their

horses, renewing to Isabella, as he adjusted her in the saddle, his

promise to call at her uncle's house the next day. As this promise did

not cause the young lady to "jump out her skin" or saddle, it is highly

probable that she did not perceive any great harm in it; nor did it

occur to her then, or when consulting her pillow at night, that she

violated female propriety, by answering, simply, and somewhat

emphatically, "I hope you will."

On their ride homeward, the party were loud in their praises of the

entertainment of the day, their eulogies being directed to different

parts of the entertainment according to the different tastes of the

individuals performing the concert; for instance, the young ladies made

honorable mention of the politeness and attention of the "dos pelotos

hermosos," the two handsome mates; the old lady chanted the praises of

the china ware, and table linen, and the knives and forks--all of them

luxuries at that time in South America; the governor eulogized the

punch, and Father Josef the dinner; the young officers were in raptures

with the wine, in which they were joined by the civil and ecclesiastical

dignitaries in grand chorus. Perhaps there never was a party of visitors

that left their entertainer's house, whether riding at anchor in port,

or standing on hammered granite "underpinning" on shore, better pleased

with what they had had, or in better humor or spirits.

CHAPTER VII.

Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.

I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,

That almost freezes up the heat of life.

ROMEO AND JULIET.

Isabella arose at her usual hour the next morning, and after breakfast

walked into the garden, from a sort of unacknowledged hope and wish that

she might soon be joined by the young American, who had occupied her

thoughts, both sleeping and waking, since she had parted with him on the

beach the evening previous. At the sound of every horse's feet she

started, and her heart beat quicker. But he came not that day, and as

evening approached, her disappointment became almost insupportable; she

tried to frame excuses for him; he had never been to the house; perhaps

he had, by a very natural mistake, gone to her uncle's house in town,

instead of that where she now was, and which was rather more than a mile

from St. Blas, and whither the family came regularly to lodge, though

they spent most of the time at their town residence; perhaps he was

detained on board by his duties; or he might be sick.

"And why," said the weeping girl to herself, "why should I wish to see

him again? Alas! I have already seen him too often, for my future peace

of mind. He is going home to his parents, his relatives, his friends,

his home, and perhaps to his wife;" and this last thought crossed her

mind with a feeling of peculiar anguish; "but no, when he spoke of his

friends and parents, he said nothing of his wife; but he is going, and

in a few short months he will forget that he has ever seen me, or that

such an unhappy being has ever existed."

With these painful and self-tormenting reflections she passed the

evening, and much of the night; but youthful hope, that cheers the heart

with flattering and deceitful promises, never sufficiently well defined

to resemble certainty, but always brilliant; hope, whose elasticity

raises the sinking heart, soothed and composed her spirits, and she sank

into sound and refreshing slumbers, to wake to a brighter and more

flattering day; but at the same time, to sink deeper and more

irrevocably into that bewitching, bewildering passion, whose existence

she could not now avoid acknowledging.

As she was sitting in the garden the next day, she was suddenly startled

by the approach of her two cousins in full chat, and close behind them,

Morton. Isabella seemed rooted to her seat, the light swam before her

eyes, her tongue was paralyzed, and her limbs were unable to raise or

support her. The young seaman approached, and in broken, incoherent, and

unintelligible accents, attempted to express the delight he felt at

once more seeing her. Perhaps, if the two cousins had been out of the

way; he would have acquitted himself better, perhaps not so well. "Iron

sharpeneth iron," saith Solomon; "so doth a man the countenance of his

friend." It may be so in some cases, but I doubt whether any man can

make love so glibly, so off hand, before half a dozen spectators,

especially females, as he can "all alone by himself;" on the other hand,

there is something absolutely awful in being alone with a pretty and

modest woman, and being compelled to "look one another in the face,"

like the two bullying kings of Judah and Jerusalem. It is much like

"watching with a corpse," a ceremony derived, I believe, from the

orientals, and still prevalent in good old New England.

The parties were soon relieved from their embarrassment; the two

cousins, after asking a thousand questions, and only waiting to hear two

hundred and fifty of the answers, bounced off into the house, leaving

the two lovers, for such they were now most decidedly, to the luxury of

their own thoughts and conversation. We have no time, inclination, nor

ability, to describe the steps by which they advanced from mere

acquaintance to the can't-live-without-each-other and hopeless state of

deep and incurable love.

Perhaps Morton was not grieved or angry when it was declared, after a

thorough survey by Captain Hazard, Coffin, and himself, to be

absolutely necessary to procure a new foremast and bowsprit for the

ship before she sailed--the first being rotten, and the other badly

sprung. As Captain Hazard placed the most implicit confidence in

Morton's capacity to purchase and superintend the making of the

requisite spars, the latter, to his great joy, was requested to take

charge of the shore department. By this arrangement his opportunities of

seeing his beloved Isabella occurred several times each day.

Though there had been no formal declaration of love between them, they

were each conscious that they loved and were beloved in return; the most

unreserved confidence existed between them, and Morton, who felt most

keenly for Isabella's unpleasant situation, had repeatedly hinted at the

happiness she was sure to enjoy in a more favored country, if she would

leave her uncle's house, and take passage in the Orion for New England.

She affected, at first, not to understand him; but when it became

impossible to avoid perceiving his meaning, she only answered, "No,

no--I cannot--I dare not;" but the answer was always accompanied with a

sigh and a tear; and as from day to day he informed her of the progress

the ship made in her repairs, her negative became fainter and less

resolutely expressed.

Owing to the necessity of making some repairs in his country residence,

the governor and his family had latterly resided altogether in St. Blas;

and as the puppy Don Gregorio watched with a suspicious and malignant

eye, the frequent visits of Morton, the lovers had generally met at the

house of Dame Juanita, the front of which was occupied as a shop, with a

little parlor back of it, to which Isabella had access by passing out of

the gate in the rear of her uncle's house, without going through the

street.

With all the glowing eloquence of young love, and hope, and confidence,

Morton detailed to her the thousand and one schemes that his fertile

imagination suggested; Isabella could see but one hideous feature in

them all--the dreadful fate that awaited him if unsuccessful.

"Listen to me," said he one day to her, as she had been urging to him

the terrible risk he encountered--for she seemed to have no eyes for the

certain immuring in a convent that awaited _her_--"listen to me, dearest

Isabella; the ship is now nearly ready; she will sail in three or four

days at farthest, and will sail at ten or eleven o'clock at night, to

take advantage of the land-breeze. I will have my boat at the quay, and

horses here in town; in the dusk of evening, and with a little disguise,

you will not be recognised; there is no guarda-costa here now, and

before the sun rises we shall be out of sight of land, and beyond the

reach of pursuit."

She made no reply, but sat pale as marble; the images of her kind and

affectionate aunt and cousins, and even of her much-feared but still

much-loved uncle, floated before her eyes, and seemed reproaching her

with unkindness and ingratitude; while, on the other hand, her fancy

painted her the wife of the man she loved, and without whom she felt

life would be wretched: she saw herself surrounded by enlightened and

polished society, such as her sainted mother had graced before her; she

saw herself moving in a new sphere, and fulfilling new duties: then

imagination placed before her bewildered mind the sinfulness of

deserting the station in which Heaven had placed her. She sighed deeply

as she almost determined to refuse, when a glimpse of her abhorred

lover, Don Gregorio, caused a sudden and violent revulsion of feeling,

and to Morton's repeated entreaties, "speak to me, dear Isabella; say

yes, love," she at length murmured a scarcely audible or articulate

consent. The delighted seaman caught her in his arms, and pressed kiss

after kiss upon the lips of the struggling, blushing girl.

"Remember, love," said he, as they parted, "be punctual here three

nights hence. I will have horses ready at the end of the street, and

before day dawns you shall be safe."

There was still one thing to be done, and that was to obtain the consent

of Captain Hazard, who, though an excellent, kind-hearted man in the

main, had some rather old-fashioned notions of propriety, especially in

outward form, and would, as Morton knew full well, have very serious

objections to advance against such a mad scrape; but he trusted to the

fondness of the good old seaman towards him, and his own upright and

honorable intentions, to overthrow all the veteran's scruples.

CHAPTER VIII.

On the morning of the day that the above arrangement was made by the

parties concerned, Captain Hazard observed that Morton had despatched

his breakfast very hastily, and was on deck, waiting for his boat's crew

to finish their meal, long before the Captain and Mr. Coffin had shown

any symptoms of pausing in their discussion of salt beef, coffee, and

pilot bread.

"What can be the matter with Mr. Morton lately?" said the old seaman to

his second officer; "he was never so fond of going ashore anywhere else,

and now here he's off and into his boat, like a struck black-fish."

"Why, I some expect," said Coffin, "there's a petticoat in the wind."

"The devil! who?"

"Well, I rather guess it's that pretty blue-eyed, English-looking girl,

that came on board with old Don Blow-me-down, when he first came in

here."

"Ah! I recollect her. I thought Morton seemed to take a shine to her."

"They say she's Don Strombolo's niece."

"They may tell that to the marines; she don't look no more like the rest

on 'em than the devil looks like a parson."

"I don't know" said Coffin gravely, "how the devil looks; but they say

he can put on the appearance of an angel of light, and I don't see why

'taint jist as easy for him to put on a black coat, and come the parson

over us poor sinners."

"Well, well; she's a sweet pretty girl, and looks kind o' as though she

wasn't over and above in good spirits."

"Well, now; I some guess I know a little something about that."

"Why how the d---- did _you_ come to make yourself busy?"

"Why, you see, there's an old woman keeps a _pulparia_[3] close to the

old Don's rookery."

"Hum! so, Mr. Sam Coffin, when you're cruising for information, you

overhaul the women's papers first and foremost."

"Why you see, Captain Hazard, if you ask one of these men here a civil

question, all you can get out of the critter is that d--d 'quien sabe,'

and blast the any thing else."

"Can sarvy! why that sounds like Chinaman's talk; what does it mean?"

"It means 'who knows,' and that's the way they answer pretty much all

questions."

"Well, what was't you was going to say about the girl?"

"Well, the old woman told me the girl's mother was an Englishwoman."

"I told you she wasn't clear Spanish--and being a girl, so, why she

takes altogether after the mother."

"And the old woman said furdermore, that her mother wasn't a Catholic;

she was a what-d'ye-call-'em."

"A Protestant, I s'pose you mean."

"Yes, yes, a Protestant--that's it. Well, you see, her mother did not

die till this girl, her darter, was nigh upon sixteen years old, and

it's like the old lady eddicated her arter the same religion she was

brought up in herself."

"Aye, now I begin to see into it all."

"Well, so you see, as nigh as I can make out, for the old woman wouldn't

talk right out--only kept hinting along like."

"Hum! a woman generally can _hint_ a d--d sight more than when she

speaks right out."

"Well, so it seems this Isabella, being half English and whole

Protestant, won't exactly steer by their compass in religious matters."

"Poor girl! poor innocent little creature!"

"Well, I got a talking 'long with the old woman, and, arter a good deal

of trouble, I got hold of pretty much the whole history about this 'ere

girl. So she told me, amongst other things, that the girl's uncle

wanted her to marry one of them officers that was aboard that day."

"Which of them?"

"That thundering cockroach-legged thief, that was copper-fastened with

gold lace and brass buttons chock up to his ears, with a thundering

great broadsword triced up to his larboard quarter and slung with brass

chains."

"Ah! I recollect him."

"And so do I, blast his profile. He cut more capers than the third mate

of a Guineaman over a dead nigger, and went skylarking about decks like

a monkey in a china-shop."

"I took notice that he looked marline-spikes at Mr. Morton for paying so

much attention to the girl."

"Aye, that he did; but I worked him a traverse in middle latitude,

sailing on that tack. I got him and the rest on 'em into the steerage,

and Mr. Morton and the girl had a good half hour's discourse to

themselves in the cabin."

"I should be sorry to have Mr. Morton try to engage the poor girl's

affections; and if I thought he had any improper intentions towards her,

I would go ashore immediately, and speak to the old governor about it."

"Well now, Captain Hazard, I guess there isn't no danger on that tack.

Mr. Morton may go adrift now and then among the girls, and where's the

man that doesn't? No, no; Charlie Morton isn't none of them sort that

would gain a poor girl's affections only to ruin her. No no; he's too

honorable and noble-spirited for such a rascally action as that."

"Well, I am of your opinion. So now, Mr. Coffin, we'll set up our

fore-rigging for a full do; for we must sail Wednesday evening, right or

wrong."

"Ay, ay, sir."

When Morton returned to the ship at night, he hastened to lay before

Captain Hazard the history of his love, and his plans for bringing it to

a successful crisis, declaring that his intentions were strictly

honorable, and that the lady might easily pass upon the crew as a

passenger. The old seaman heard him to an end, as he urged his request

with all the fervor of youthful eloquence and love; and, having

scratched his head for a while, as if to rouse himself, and be convinced

that he was awake, replied:

"A queer sort of business this altogether, my son; I don't exactly know

what to make of it--what will your father say to your bringing home a

young cow-whale, in addition to your share of the oil?"

"Make yourself easy on that score, my dear sir; I know my father wishes

to have me quit going to sea, and marry."

"Yes, but is not a wife, brought into your family in this way, liable to

be looked upon as a sort of contraband article--run goods like?"

"I am not much afraid of that, on my father's part," said Morton; "and

if," he continued, laughing, "if the grave old ladies of my

acquaintance find fault, I can quiet them in a moment, by quoting the

conduct of the tribe of Benjamin, in a similar situation, by way of

precedent."

"Ah, Charlie! your scheme, I am afraid, is all top-hamper, and no

ballast; wont the enemy give chase? I am sure that Don--Don--what's his

name, that young officer, more than suspects your good standing in the

young lady's affections: wont he alarm the coast, and put the old folks

up to rowing guard round her, so that you can't communicate? Ay, that he

will."

"Trust me for that, sir; if I cannot weather upon any Spaniard that ever

went unhanged, either Creole or old Castilian, I'll agree to go to the

mines for life."

"Don't be too rash, my dear boy; though the Spaniards are only

courageous behind shot-proof walls, and when they number three to one,

they are deceitful as well as cruel; and, if their suspicions are once

excited, they will murder you at once, and her too, poor girl! and think

they are doing God service, because you are both Protestants."

"I can only repeat, trust to my prudence and management; I have too much

at stake to hazard it lightly."

"Then remember, Charles, we sail Wednesday evening: it will be

star-light, but not too dark to see your way. I will defer sailing till

eleven o'clock, if that will suit your schemes."

"It will exactly; or if you sail the moment I return, so much the

better."

With these words, they separated--Morton, overjoyed at the completion of

his preliminary arrangements, all night, like Peter Pindar's dog,

"lay winking,

And couldn't sleep for thinking."

The appointed day at length arrived; but the destinies, who had hitherto

spun the thread of the two lovers' fate as smooth and even as a

whale-line yarn, now began to fill it full of _kinks_. Well did the

ancients represent them as three haggard, blear-eyed, wrinkled,

spiteful, old maids, who would not allow any poor mortal to live or die

comfortably, and who took a malicious pleasure in disturbing "the course

of true love." The inexorable Atropos brandished her scissors, and at

one snip severed the thread asunder.

Daring the night there had been a tremendous thunder-squall, and the

morning showed huge "double-headed" clouds, mustering in different parts

of the horizon, and, apparently, waiting some signal to bid them

commence operations; others, dark and suspicious looking, but of a less

dense consistence, were seen scampering across the firmament in all

directions, like aids-de-camp before a general engagement; the

land-breeze had been interrupted by the night-squall, and the wind, what

little there was, blew from every point of the compass but the usual

one; the shags, that tenanted the top of Pedro Blanco, seemed unusually

busy, as if anticipating a change of weather; and, in short, every thing

announced that the delightful, salubrious, dry season had come to an

end, and the empire of continual rain, and drizzle, and cloud, and mud,

and putrid fevers, and rheumatism, and every thing disagreeable, had

commenced. Still the day was delightful after ten o'clock, and the

weather as clear as ever.

Morton had seen these indications of the approach of wet weather with no

small anxiety; he knew full well that the governor and his family would

pass the rainy season at Tepic, a city about ninety miles from the

coast, or at some of the other large towns, in the more elevated and

healthy regions inland. With Captain Hazard's permission, he hastened to

the town, and to Juanita's house, but Isabella was not to be seen. After

waiting for some time, a little girl brought him a short note, simply

saying that she would see him in the evening, but could not before. With

this promise he was obliged to content himself, and rode slowly back to

the Porte. He was punctually on shore again at sunset, and once more

hastened to town, having hired another horse, and directed his boat's

crew not to go away from the quay. Having secured his horses at a

certain place near the zig-zag descent towards the harbor already

mentioned, he passed into the plaza, and was struck with consternation

and despair, at seeing assembled before Don Gaspar's door, horses and

mules in abundance, caparisoned for a journey. In fact, there was

indisputable proof that the family were, in military parlance, on the

route.

He hastened to the good dame Juanita's, and, in a few minutes, Isabella

entered the room, and, throwing off, in her distress, all unnecessary

reserve, threw herself weeping into his arms.

"All is over, dear Charles, all is lost--I set out to-night for Tepic,

and we shall never meet again but in heaven."

"All is _not_ lost, my own Isabella; every thing is in readiness--fly

then with me--while your family are in confusion you will not

immediately be missed, and, before an hour passes, you shall be safe on

board."

"No, no; I dare not, I cannot."

To all his entreaties she seemed deaf, positively refusing to consent to

escape with him; but whether from fear of being overtaken, or from

maidenly timidity, it would be, perhaps, difficult to decide. At last,

Morton, who was nearly beside himself with disappointment and vexation,

relapsed into a short and stupified silence.

"Isabella," said he, at length, and with composure that startled her,

"reflect for one moment upon your situation; you know your uncle's

temper; you know he is not a man that will easily give up any of his

plans--this is your only chance for escape from the fate you dread; do

not then reject it."

She only answered with tears, and continued to repeat, as if

mechanically, "I dare not; no, no, I cannot." Morton was silent a few

moments, when a sudden ray of hope enlivened his gloomy reverie.

"Hear me, dearest; there is one, and only one, chance left yet. If your

uncle urges you to marry, entreat him for one year's delay. Before that

time expires, I trust to be here again. Vessels are constantly fitting

out from the United States to this part of the world--if such a thing

can be effected by mere human agency, I will be on board one of them, if

not, I both can and will purchase and fit out a vessel myself. Promise

me then, my love, that you will use all possible means to defer any

matrimonial schemes your uncle may form for at least two years. But I

trust, if my life and health are spared, that, before half that time has

expired, I shall be here, to claim your first promise."

"I will, I will, dear Charles; I will not deceive you. I know my uncle

loves me, and will grant me that delay. And now we must part; I shall be

missed, and I dare not stay a moment longer. For heaven's sake, keep out

of sight of--you can guess who I mean."

A parting scene between two lovers had always better be left to the

imagination of the readers; because the author, unless he is gifted with

the power of a Scott, a James, an Edgeworth, or a Sedgwick, is sure to

disappoint the reader, and himself besides. My reader must therefore

draw the picture, and color it, to his or her own peculiar taste, and

fancy an interchange of kisses, locks of hair, rings, crooked sixpences,

garters, or any thing else that constitutes circulating medium or

_stock_ in Love's exchange market.

The Orion had dropped out to the roads, and, with her anchor a short

stay-peak, her topsails sheeted home but not hoisted, and her whole crew

on deck, waited only for her first officer. Between nine and ten o'clock

the sound of approaching oars was heard, but in a moment the practised

ears of Captain Hazard and his second officer perceived that the

advancing boat pulled very leisurely.

"Poor Charlie is coming off empty-handed," said Coffin.

"Yes, I was afraid the bird had flown, or the enemy was alarmed. I am

sorry for it from my very heart, for he will be low spirited all the

passage home."

"Well, I aint so sure about that--I've always found salt water a sartain

cure for love."

"I dare say you have, Mr. Coffin; but love is like strong grog, it

operates differently upon different constitutions and dispositions."

"Well, I s'pose that's pretty nigh the case. A good, stiff glass of

grog, in a cold, rainy night, makes me feel as bright as a new dollar

for a while, but then it soon passes off."

"I am afraid poor Morton's love is too deep-seated to be worked off by

salt water or absence. But here comes the boat--hail her, Mr. Coffin."

"Boat ahoy!"

"O-ri-on."

"Are you alone, Mr. Morton?" said the captain in a low voice, as that

gentleman came over the side.

"Yes, sir, but not without hopes another time."

The two officers then descended to the cabin, and Morton explained the

cause of his failure, and expressed his determination to make another

attempt as soon as possible after his arrival in New England. Captain

Hazard insisted upon his turning in immediately, to recover from the

fatigue and anxiety he had undergone during the day, and to his

remonstrances laughingly observed that he was not in a proper state of

mind to be trusted with the charge of a night-watch, and that Robinson,

the oldest boat-steerer, should take his place. Coffin earnestly

recommended a glass of hot punch, as "composing to the nerves;" but the

patient declined, though he permitted Captain Hazard to qualify a

tumbler of warm wine and water with thirty drops of laudanum.

The topsails were now hoisted aloft, the topgallant-sails set, and the

anchor weighed; and, with a fresh breeze off the land, the first officer

sound asleep and dreaming of "the girl he left behind him," a press of

sail, and the starboard watch under the charge of Mr. Coffin, spinning

tough yarns on the forecastle and calculating the probable amount of

their voyage, the stout Orion left the Bay of St. Blas at the rate of

eleven geographical miles per hour.

[Footnote 3: Pulparia, a small shop, generally pronounced

_pulparee_.--_Diabolus Typographicus._]

CHAPTER VIII.

_Alexander._--They say he is a very man _per se_, And stands alone.

_Cressida._--So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no

legs.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

Charles Morton, whom we have somewhat abruptly introduced to our

readers, and exhibited for two or three chapters, without much

explanation, was the only surviving child of a wealthy merchant in one

of the sea-ports in the southern part of Massachusetts. He had received

a liberal education, as a collegiate course of studies is at present,

and in many instances most absurdly, called. Morton could, however, lay

a just claim to be called liberally educated. He went to college without

contemplating to pursue either of the three learned professions, but

merely to acquire a more intimate acquaintance with the classics,

history, belles lettres, and mathematics, than it was then supposed he

could obtain elsewhere. People begin to think differently at the present

period, and have a faint sort of notion that a boy can become qualified

for the every day duties of life, or for practice in the three

professions, without having received a diploma from a college,

exclusively controlled in all its attitudes and relations by one

particular sect of religion, or passing four years of "toil and trouble"

in another university, where he is kept wallowing and smothering in the

darkness of metaphysics or the more abstruse and _higher_! branches of

mathematics; both sciences as utterly useless to him in any situation of

life as a knowledge of the precise language that the devil tempted Eve

in, and which some ecclesiastical writers have laboured to prove was

High Dutch. I have been several times to different parts of the East

Indies, and on more than one voyage have kept a reckoning out and home,

assisted in taking lunar observations and those for determining the time

and variation of the compass, and without knowing any more of algebra,

fluxions, or conic sections, than a dog knows about his father.

After Morton had had the sacred A. B. "tailed on" to his name at a grand

sanhedrim of solemn blacked-gowned fools, sagely called a

_commencement_, because a youngster there _finishes_ his studies, he

felt a strong desire to visit "the round world and them that dwell

therein," and, like many New England youth, not only then but within my

own observation and time, and before the signature of the august

"praeses" was dry on his sheep-skin diploma, was entered as an under

graduate in a college of a somewhat different description--the

forecastle of a large brig bound on a trading voyage up the

Mediterranean--a school not one whit inferior to old Harvard itself for

morality, and one where a man, with his eyes and ears open, might

acquire information fifty times more valuable than any that could be

drilled into him at any learned seminary whatever--a knowledge, namely,

of the world and of human nature.

This habit, if it can be called one, of exchanging the quiet of a

college room for the bustle and privations of a sea-life, is not near so

prevalent now as it was several years since; and yet I have known many

instances, and have repeatedly met, in merchantmen and men of war, men

who have received a collegiate education, and have known one case, on

board of an English line-of-battle ship, the Superb, of a dissenting

minister, a foretopman, who could clear away a foul topsail-clewline, or

explain an obscure passage in Scripture, with equal facility and

address, and was both a smart seaman and a smart preacher:

"As some rats, of amphibious nature,

Are either for the land or water."

It is a pity our professional men do not travel more, especially

clergymen, who, though generally learned men, are not deep in the

knowledge of their own species. Of course I do not apply this remark to

the Methodist clergy; as their vagabond life makes them but too well

acquainted with the weaknesses of one portion of the human race, while

the alarming and arbitrary dominion they thereby acquire over the minds,

bodies, and estates of both sexes, is beautifully illustrated in the

trial, not many years since, of a reverend gentleman of oil of tansy

and hay-stack celebrity.

Morton's first voyage was rather a long one, but it introduced him to

the most interesting portion of the world, the nations bordering upon

the Mediterranean, while his knowledge of the Latin language was of no

small advantage to him in acquiring a knowledge of the Spanish and

Italian--an advantage that he certainly did not think of, when he was

plodding through Virgil and Horace, Cicero and Tacitus. He returned from

his first voyage a thorough practical seaman, and more than tolerably

acquainted with European languages. He rose in his profession, and might

at the time we introduced him have commanded a ship; but a sudden desire

to go at least one whaling voyage seized him, and a whaling he

accordingly went. In person Morton was above the middling height, some

inches above it, in short he had attained the altitude of five feet

eight inches--my own height to a fraction. Like most young men born in

New England, and who choose a seafaring life, his frame had acquired a

robustness and solidity, his countenance a healthy brown, his chest a

depth, and his shoulders a breadth, that are each and all

considered--and with justice--by the present generation, as irrefragable

proofs and marks of vulgarity. But folks thought otherwise thirty years

since, and, however incredible it may appear, there are actually now in

existence a great many painters, sculptors, anatomists, and perhaps as

many as a dozen women, who persist in thinking that a human being looks

much better as God made him, after his own image, than as the tailor

makes him, after no image in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or

in the waters under the earth. Forty years since, ladies did not by

tight lacing crush and obliterate all symptoms of fulness in the front

of the bust, nor did gentlemen stuff and pad their clothes till they

resemble so many wet-nurses in coats and breeches.

It was the established rule with novel-writers, and that until very

lately, to represent their heroes as tall grenadier-looking fellows,

never _under_ six feet, and as much above as they dared to go, and keep

within credible bounds. "Tall and slightly but elegantly formed," was

the only approved recipe for making a hero. So that a black snake

walking erect upon his tail, provided he had two of them, or an

old-fashioned pair of kitchen tongs, with a face hammered out upon the

knob by the blacksmith, would convey a tolerably correct idea of the

proportions of the Beverleys, and Mortimers, and Hargraves, of a certain

class of novels. Sir Walter Scott, Mr. James, and most of the best

writers, have disbanded this formidable regiment of thread-paper giants,

and we now see courage, manly beauty, talents, wit, and eloquence,

reduced to a peace-establishment size, instead of those long-splice

scoundrels, that used to go striding about our imaginations, like Jack

the giant-killer in his seven-league boots, kicking the shins and

treading on the toes of every common sized idea that came in their way.

It was also considered indispensably necessary, that the heroine should

be "as long as the moral law," and accordingly we heard of nothing but

"her tall and graceful figure," "her majestic and commanding height,"

&c. &c. Let those who prefer tall women take them; for my part, I wish

to have nothing to say to such Anakim in petticoats: conceive the

embarrassment and confusion of a common sized bridegroom compelled,

before a room-full of company, to request his Titan of a bride to be

seated, that he might greet her with the holy kiss of wedded love! On

the other hand, it was by no means unusual to represent the heroine as a

mere pigmy; so that the lovers whose destinies we were interested in,

might be represented by the following lines from an old sea-song, which,

for the benefit of musical readers I beg leave to observe, is generally

"said or sung" to the tune of "The Bold Dragoons:"

"He looked like a pole-topgallant-mast,

She like a holy-stone."

Thank Heaven! the taste for this species of writing has "had its day,"

and we have something better in the place of it. Bulwer has indeed tried

very hard to compel the public to admire murderers and highwaymen, and

our own dear, darling Cooper, the American Walter Scott, has held up for

admiration and imitation sundry cut-throats, hangmen, pirates, thieves,

squatters, and other scoundrels of different degrees, showing his

partiality and fellow-feeling for the kennel; and, if he had not at

last, as we say at sea, "blown his blast, and given the devil his horn,"

would have managed to set the whole female portion of the

romance-reading community to whimpering and blowing their noses over the

sorrows of Tardee and Gibbs--the wholesale pirates and murderers, the

loves of Mina--the poisoner, the _trials_ of Malbone Briggs--the

counterfeiter, or the buffetings in the flesh that Satan was permitted

to bestow upon the old Adam of that god-fearing saint, Ephraim K. Avery.

The hero of a novel of the by-gone class was always and _ex officio_ a

duellist; and though the best English writers err against morality and

religion in following this absurd track, it may be urged in extenuation

of their offence, that duelling is generally considered in Europe as

part of a gentleman's education and accomplishments, and in this country

to refuse a challenge brands a man with everlasting infamy, though the

crime is held in the most profound speculative abhorrence, and every

state has a whole host of theoretical punishments, never inflicted, for

the violation of its equally theoretical laws, that are daily evaded,

outquibbled, or broken, with impunity.

Morton's countenance we have taken the liberty to describe elsewhere.

His disposition was naturally cheerful and mild, his temper even, and

not easily provoked. Although somewhat inclined to taciturnity, yet

when drawn out to converse upon any subject he was acquainted with, he

was naturally fluent, and in his language pure and correct. He was a

universal favorite with the youth of both sexes in his native town, and,

during the intervals between his voyages, was always in demand when a

Thanksgiving ball was contemplated, or a sleigh-ride, or a "frolic," as

all such parties of pleasure were and still are called in New England.

At sea he was always beloved, by both officers and seamen, for his

nautical skill and good-nature. Notwithstanding the confinement that his

duties made unavoidable, he had managed to make himself acquainted with

men and manners, and, during the many leisure hours that those engaged

in the whale-fishery always find, he had amused himself with

drawing--for which he possessed a natural talent, reading, and keeping a

sort of memorandum of different occurrences and his reflections upon the

habits of the different nations he visited,--and was, in short, one of

those somewhat rare but still existing prodigies, a well educated, well

informed gentleman with a hard hand and short jacket, many individuals

of which nearly extinct species of animals I have had the singular good

fortune to fall in with during my voyage through life.