"Bid physicians talk our veins to temper,
And with an argument new-set a pulse;
Then think, my lord, of reasoning into love."
YOUNG.
While the scene just related, took place in the chamber of the sick man,
Admiral Bluewater, Mrs. Dutton, and Mildred left the house, in the old
family-coach. The rear-admiral had pertinaciously determined to adhere
to his practice of sleeping in his ship; and the manner in which he had
offered seats to his two fair companions--for Mrs. Dutton still deserved
to be thus termed--has already been seen. The motive was simply to
remove them from any further brutal exhibitions of Dutton's cupidity,
while he continued in his present humour; and, thus influenced, it is
not probable that the gallant old sailor would be likely to dwell, more
than was absolutely necessary, on the unpleasant scene of which he had
been a witness. In fact, no allusion was made to it, during the quarter
of an hour the party was driving from the Hall to the station-house.
They all spoke, with regret,--Mildred with affectionate tenderness,
even,--of poor Sir Wycherly; and several anecdotes, indicative of his
goodness of heart, were eagerly related to Bluewater, by the two
females, as the carriage moved heavily along. In the time mentioned, the
vehicle drew up before the door of the cottage, and all three alighted.
If the morning of that day had been veiled in mist, the sun had set in
as cloudless a sky, as is often arched above the island of Great
Britain. The night was, what in that region, is termed a clear
moonlight. It was certainly not the mimic day that is so often enjoyed
in purer atmospheres, but the panorama of the head-land was clothed in a
soft, magical sort of semi-distinctness, that rendered objects
sufficiently obvious, and exceedingly beautiful. The rounded, shorn
swells of the land, hove upward to the eye, verdant and smooth; while
the fine oaks of the park formed a shadowy background to the picture,
inland. Seaward, the ocean was glittering, like a reversed plane of the
firmament, far as eye could reach. If our own hemisphere, or rather this
latitude, may boast of purer skies than are enjoyed by the mother
country, the latter has a vast superiority in the tint of the water.
While the whole American coast is bounded by a dull-looking sheet of
sea-green, the deep blue of the wide ocean appears to be carried close
home to the shores of Europe. This glorious tint, from which the term of
"ultramarine" has been derived, is most remarkable in the Mediterranean,
that sea of delights; but it is met with, all along the rock-bound
coasts of the Peninsula of Spain and Portugal, extending through the
British Channel, until it is in a measure, lost on the shoals of the
North Sea; to be revived, however, in the profound depths of the ocean
that laves the wild romantic coast of Norway.
"'Tis a glorious night!" exclaimed Bluewater, as he handed Mildred, the
last, from the carriage; "and one can hardly wish to enter a cot, let it
swing ever so lazily."
"Sleep is out of the question," returned Mildred, sorrowfully. "These
are nights in which even the weary are reluctant to lose their
consciousness; but who can sleep while there is this uncertainty about
dear Sir Wycherly."
"I rejoice to hear you say this, Mildred,"--for so the admiral had
unconsciously, and unrepelled, begun to call his sweet companion--"I
rejoice to hear you say this, for I am an inveterate star-gazer and
moon-ite; and I shall hope to persuade you and Mrs. Dutton to waste yet
another hour, with me, in walking on this height. Ah! yonder is Sam
Yoke, my coxswain, waiting to report the barge; I can send Sir
Gervaise's message to the surgeons, by deputy, and there will be no
occasion for my hastening from this lovely spot, and pleasant company."
The orders were soon given to the coxswain. A dozen boats, it would
seem, were in waiting for officers ashore, notwithstanding the lateness
of the hour; and directions were sent for two of them to pull off, and
obtain the medical men. The coach was sent round to receive the latter,
and then all was tranquil, again, on the height. Mrs. Dutton entered the
house, to attend to some of her domestic concerns, while the
rear-admiral took the arm of Mildred, and they walked, together, to the
verge of the cliffs.
A fairer moonlight picture seldom offered itself to a seaman's eye, than
that which now lay before the sight of Admiral Bluewater and Mildred.
Beneath them rode the fleet; sixteen sail of different rigs, eleven of
which, however, were two-decked ships of the largest size then known in
naval warfare; and all of which were in that perfect order, that an
active and intelligent commander knows how to procure, even from the
dilatory and indifferent. If Admiral Bluewater was conspicuous in
man[oe]uvring a fleet, and in rendering every vessel of a line that
extended a league, efficient, and that too, in her right place, Sir
Gervaise Oakes had the reputation of being one of the best seamen, in
the ordinary sense of the word, in England. No vessel under his command,
ever had a lubberly look; and no ship that had any sailing in her,
failed to have it brought out of her. The vice-admiral was familiar with
that all-important fact--one that members equally of Congress and of
Parliament are so apt to forgot, or rather not to know at all--that the
efficiency of a whole fleet, as a fleet, is necessarily brought down to
the level of its worst ships. Of little avail is it, that four or five
vessels of a squadron sail fast, and work well, if the eight or ten that
remain, behave badly, and are dull. A separation of the vessels is the
inevitable consequence, when the properties of all are thoroughly tried;
and the division of a force, is the first step towards its defeat; as
its proper concentration, is a leading condition of victory. As the
poorer vessels cannot imitate the better, the good are compelled to
regulate their movements by the bad; which is at once essentially
bringing down the best ships of a fleet to the level of its worst; the
proposition with which we commenced.
Sir Gervaise Oakes was so great a favourite, that all he asked was
usually conceded to him. One of his conditions was, that his vessels
should sail equally well; "If you give me fast ships," he said, "I can
overtake the enemy; if dull, the enemy can overtake me; and I leave you
to say which course will be most likely to bring on an action. At any
rate, give me _consorts_; not one flyer, and one drag; but vessels that
can keep within hail of each other, without anchoring." The admiralty
professed every desire to oblige the gallant commander; and, as he was
resolved never to quit the Plantagenet until she was worn out, it was
indispensably necessary to find as many fast vessels as possible, to
keep her company. The result was literally a fleet of "horses," as
Galleygo used to call it; and it was generally said in the service, that
"Oakes had a squadron of flyers, if not a flying-squadron."
Vessels like these just mentioned, are usually symmetrical and graceful
to the eye, as well as fast. This fact was apparent to Mildred,
accustomed as she was to the sight of ships and she ventured to express
as much, after she and her companion had stood quite a minute on the
cliff, gazing at the grand spectacle beneath them.
"Your vessels look even handsomer than common, Admiral Bluewater," she
said, "though a ship, to me, is always an attractive sight."
"This is because they _are_ handsomer than common, my pretty critic.
Vice-Admiral Oakes is an officer who will no more tolerate an ugly ship
in his fleet, than a peer of the realm will marry any woman but one who
is handsome; unless indeed she happen to be surpassingly rich."
"I have heard that men are accustomed to lose their hearts under such an
influence," said Mildred, laughing; "but I did not know before, that
they were ever frank enough to avow it!"
"The knowledge has been imparted by a prudent mother, I suppose,"
returned the rear-admiral, in a musing manner; "I wish I stood
sufficiently in the parental relation to you, my young friend, to
venture to give a little advice, also. Never, before, did I feel so
strong a wish to warn a human being of a great danger that I fear is
impending over her, could I presume to take the liberty."
"It is not a liberty, but a duty, to warn any one of a danger that is
known to ourselves, and not to the person who incurs the risk. At least
so it appears to the eyes of a very young girl."
"Yes, if the danger was of falling from these cliffs, or of setting fire
to a house, or of any other visible calamity. The case is different,
when young ladies, and setting fire to the heart, are concerned."
"Certainly, I can perceive the distinction," answered Mildred, after a
short pause; "and can understand that the same person who would not
scruple to give the alarm against any physical danger, would hesitate
even at hinting at one of a moral character. Nevertheless, if Admiral
Bluewater think a simple girl, like me, of sufficient importance to take
the trouble to interest himself in her welfare, I should hope he would
not shrink from pointing out this danger. It is a terrible word to sleep
on; and I confess, besides a little uneasiness, to a good deal of
curiosity to know more."
"This is said, Mildred, because you are unaccustomed to the shocks which
the tongue of rude man may give your sensitive feelings."
"Unaccustomed!" said Mildred, trembling so that the weakness was
apparent to her companion. "Unaccustomed! Alas! Admiral Bluewater, can
this be so, after what you have seen and heard!"
"Pardon me, dear child: nothing was farther from my thoughts, than to
wish to revive those unpleasant recollections. If I thought I should be
forgiven, I might venture, yet, to reveal my secret; for never
before--though I cannot tell the reason of so sudden and so
extraordinary an interest in one who is almost a stranger--"
"No--no--not a stranger, dear sir. After all that has passed to-day;
after you have been admitted, though it were by accident, to one most
sacred secret;--after all that was said in the carriage, and the
terrible scenes my beloved mother went through in your presence so many
years since, you can never be a stranger to _us_, whatever may be your
own desire to fancy yourself one."
"Girl, you do not fascinate--you do not charm me, but you _bind_ me to
you in a way I did not think it in the power of any human being to
subjugate my feelings!"
This was said with so much energy, that Mildred dropped the arm she
held, and actually recoiled a step, if not in alarm, at least in
surprise. But, on looking up into the face of her companion, and
perceiving large tears actually glistening on his cheek, and seeing the
hair that exposure and mental cares had whitened more than time, all her
confidence returned, and she resumed the place she had abandoned, of her
own accord, and as naturally as a daughter would have clung to the side
of a father.
"I am sure, sir, my gratitude for this interest ought to be quite equal
to the honour it does me," Mildred said, earnestly. "And, now, Admiral
Bluewater, do not hesitate to speak to me with the frankness that a
parent might use. I will listen with the respect and deference of a
daughter."
"Then do listen to what I have to say, and make no answer, if you find
yourself wounded at the freedom I am taking. It would seem that there is
but one subject on which a man, old fellow or young fellow, can speak to
a lovely young girl, when he gets her alone, under the light of a fine
moon;--and that is love. Nay, start not again, my dear, for, if I am
about to speak on so awkward a subject, it is not in my own behalf I
hardly know whether you will think it in behalf of any one; as what I
have to say, is not an appeal to your affections, but a warning against
bestowing them."
"A warning, Admiral Bluewater! Do you really think that can be
necessary?"
"Nay, my child, that is best known to yourself. Of one thing I am
certain; the young man I have in my eye, affects to admire you, whether
he does or not; and when young women are led to believe they are loved,
it is a strong appeal to all their generous feelings to answer the
passion, if not with equal warmth, at least with something very like
it."
"Affects to admire, sir!--And why should any one be at the pains of
_affecting_ feelings towards me, that they do not actually entertain? I
have neither rank, nor money, to bribe any one to be guilty of an
hypocrisy so mean, and which, in my ease, would be so motiveless."
"Yes, if it _were_ motiveless to win the most beautiful creature in
England! But, no matter. We will not stop to analyze motives, when
_facts_ are what we aim at. I should think there must be some passion in
this youth's suit, and that will only make it so much the more dangerous
to its object. At all events, I feel a deep conviction that he is
altogether unworthy of you. This is a bold expression of opinion on an
acquaintance of a day; but there are such reasons for it, that a man of
my time of life, if unprejudiced, can scarcely be deceived."
"All this is very singular, sir, and I had almost used your own word of
'alarming,'" replied Mildred, slightly agitated by curiosity, but more
amused. "I shall be as frank as yourself, and say that you judge the
gentleman harshly. Mr. Rotherham may not have all the qualities that a
clergyman ought to possess, but he is far from being a bad man. Good or
bad, however, it is not probable that he will carry his transient
partiality any farther than he has gone already."
"Mr. Rotherham!--I have neither thought nor spoken of the pious vicar at
all!"
Mildred was now sadly confused. Mr. Rotherham had made his proposals for
her, only the day before, and he had been mildly, but firmly refused.
The recent occurrence was naturally uppermost in her mind; and the
conjecture that her rejected suitor, under the influence of wine, might
have communicated the state of his wishes, or what he fancied to be the
state of his wishes, to her companion, was so very easy, that she had
fallen into the error, almost without reflection.
"I beg pardon, sir--I really imagined," the confused girl answered;
"but, it was a natural mistake for me to suppose you meant Mr.
Rotherham, as he is the only person who has ever spoken to my mother on
the subject of any thing like a preference for me."
"I should have less fear of those who spoke to your mother, Mildred,
than of those who spoke only to _you_. As I hate ambiguity, however, I
will say, at once, that my allusion was to Mr. Wychecombe."
"Mr. Wychecombe, Admiral Bluewater!"--and the veteran felt the arm that
leaned on him tremble violently, a sad confirmation of even more than he
apprehended, or he would not have been so abrupt. "Surely--surely--the
warning you mean, cannot, _ought_ not to apply to a gentleman of Mr.
Wychecombe's standing and character!"
"Such is the world, Miss Dutton, and we old seamen, in particular, get
to know it, whether willingly or not. My sudden interest in you, the
recollection of former, but painful scenes, and the events of the day,
have made me watchful, and, you will add, bold--but I am resolved to
speak, even at the risk of disobliging you for ever--and, in speaking, I
must say that I never met with a young man who has made so unfavourable
an impression on me, as this same Mr. Wychecombe."
Mildred, unconsciously to herself, withdrew her arm, and she felt
astonished at her own levity, in so suddenly becoming sufficiently
intimate with a stranger to permit him thus to disparage a confirmed
friend.
"I am sorry, sir, that you entertain so indifferent an opinion of one
who is, I believe, a general favourite, in this part of the country,"
she answered, with a coldness that rendered her manner marked.
"I perceive I shall share the fate of all unwelcome counsellors, but can
only blame my own presumption. Mildred, we live in momentous times, and
God knows what is to happen to myself, in the next few months; but, so
strong is the inexplicable interest that I feel in your welfare, that I
shall venture still to offend. I like not this Mr. Wychecombe, who is so
devout an admirer of yours--real or affected--and, as to the liking of
dependants for the heir of a considerable estate, it is so much a matter
of course, that I count it nothing."
"The heir of a considerable estate!" repeated Mildred, in a voice to
which the natural sweetness returned, quietly resuming the arm, she had
so unceremoniously dropped--"Surely, dear sir, you are not speaking of
Mr. Thomas Wychecombe, Sir Wycherly's nephew."
"Of whom else should I speak?--Has he not been your shadow the whole
day?--so marked in his attentions, as scarce to deem it necessary to
conceal his suit?"
"Has it really struck you thus, sir?--I confess I did not so consider
it. We are so much at home at the Hall, that we rather expect all of
that family to be kind to us. But, whether you are right in your
conjecture, or not, Mr. Thomas Wychecombe can never be ought to me--and
as proof, Admiral Bluewater, that I take your warning, as it is meant,
in kindness and sincerity, I will add, that he is not a very particular
favourite."
"I rejoice to hear it! Now there is his namesake, our young lieutenant,
as gallant and as noble a fellow as ever lived--would to Heaven be was
not so wrapt up in his profession, as to be insensible to any beauties,
but those of a ship. Were you my own daughter, Mildred, I could give you
to that lad, with as much freedom as I would give him my estate, were he
my son."
Mildred smiled--and it was archly, though not without a shade of sorrow,
too--but she had sufficient self-command, to keep her feelings to
herself, and too much maiden reserve not to shrink from betraying her
weakness to one who, after all, was little more than a stranger.
"I dare say, sir," she answered, with an equivocation which was perhaps
venial, "that your knowledge of the world has judged both these
gentlemen, rightly. Mr. Thomas Wychecombe, notwithstanding all you heard
from my poor father, is not likely to think seriously of me; and I will
answer for my own feelings as regards _him_. I am, in no manner, a
proper person to become Lady Wychecombe; and, I trust, I should have the
prudence to decline the honour were it even offered to me. Believe me,
sir, my father would have held a different language to-night, had it not
been for Sir Wycherly's wine, and the many loyal toasts that were drunk.
He _must_ be conscious, in his reflecting moments, that a child of his
is unsuited to so high a station. Our prospects in life were once better
than they are now, Admiral Bluewater; but they have never been such as
to raise these high expectations in us."
"An officer's daughter may always claim to be a gentlewoman, my dear;
and, as such, you might become the wife of a duke, did he love you.
Since I find my warning unnecessary, however, we will change the
discourse. Did not something extraordinary occur at this cliff, this
morning, and in connection with this very Mr. Thomas Wychecombe? Sir
Gervaise was my informant; but he did not relate the matter very
clearly."
Mildred explained the mistake, and then gave a vivid description of the
danger in which the young lieutenant had been placed, as well as of the
manner in which he had extricated himself. She particularly dwelt on the
extraordinary presence of mind and resolution, by means of which he had
saved his life, when the stone first gave way beneath his foot.
"All this is well, and what I should have expected from so active and
energetic a youth," returned the rear-admiral, a little gravely; "but, I
confess I would rather it had not happened. Your inconsiderate and
reckless young men, who risk their necks idly, in places of this sort,
seldom have much in them, after all. Had there been a motive, it would
have altered the case."
"Oh! but there _was_ a motive, sir; he was far from doing so silly a
thing for nothing!"
"And what was the motive, pray?--I can see no sufficient reason why a
man of sense should trust his person over a cliff as menacing as this.
One may approach it, by moonlight; but in the day, I confess to you I
should not fancy standing as near it, as we do at this moment."
Mildred was much embarrassed for an answer. Her own heart told her
Wycherly's motive, but that it would never do to avow to her companion,
great as was the happiness she felt in avowing it to herself. Gladly
would she have changed the discourse; but, as this could not be done,
she yielded to her native integrity of character, and told the truth, as
far as she told any thing.
"The flowers that grow on the sunny side of these rocks, Admiral
Bluewater, are singularly fragrant and beautiful," she said; "and
hearing my mother and myself speaking of them, and how much the former
delighted in them, though they were so seldom to be had, he just
ventured over the cliff--not here, where it is so _very_ perpendicular,
but yonder, where one _may_ cling to it, very well, with a little
care--and it was in venturing a little--just a _very_ little too far, he
told me, himself, sir, to-day, after dinner,--that the stone broke, and
the accident occurred, I do not think Mr. Wycherly Wychecombe in the
least fool-hardy, and not at all disposed to seek a silly admiration, by
a silly exploit."
"He has a most lovely and a most eloquent advocate," returned the
admiral, smiling, though the expression of his countenance was
melancholy, even to sadness; "and he is acquitted. I think few men of
his years would hesitate about risking their necks for flowers so
fragrant and beautiful, and so much coveted by _your_ mother, Mildred."
"And he a sailor, sir, who thinks so little of standing on giddy places,
and laughs at fears of this nature?"
"Quite true; though there are few cliffs on board ship. Ropes are our
sources of courage."
"So I should think, by what passed to-day," returned Mildred, laughing.
"Mr. Wycherly called out for a rope, and we just threw him one, to help
him out of his difficulty. The moment he got his rope, though it was
only yonder small signal-halyards, he felt himself as secure as if he
stood up here, on the height, with acres of level ground around him. I
do not think he was frightened, at any time; but when he got hold of
that little rope, he was fairly valiant!"
Mildred endeavoured to laugh at her own history, by way of veiling her
interest in the event; but her companion was too old, and too
discerning, to be easily deceived. He continued silent, as he led her
away from the cliff; and when he entered the cottage, Mildred saw, by
the nearer light of the candles, that his countenance was still sad.
Admiral Bluewater remained half an hour longer in the cottage, when he
tore himself away, from a society which, for him, possessed a charm that
he could not account for, nor yet scarcely estimate. It was past one,
when he bid Mrs. Dutton and her daughter adieu; promising, however, to
see them again, before the fleet sailed. Late as it was, the mother and
Mildred felt no disposition to retire, after the exciting scenes they
had gone through; but, feeling a calm on their spirits, succeeding the
rude interruption produced by Dutton's brutality, they walked out on the
cliff, to enjoy the cool air, and the bland scenery of the head-land, at
that witching hour.
"I should feel alarm at this particularity of attention, from most men,
my child," observed the prudent mother, as they left the house: "but the
years, and especially the character of Admiral Bluewater, are pledges
that he meditates nothing foolish, nor wrong."
"His _years_ would be sufficient, mother," cried Mildred, laughing--for
her laugh came easily, since the opinion she had just before heard of
Wycherly's merit--"leaving the character out of the question."
"For you, perhaps, Mildred, but not for himself. Men rarely seem to
think themselves too old to win the young of our sex; and what they want
in attraction, they generally endeavour to supply by flattery and
artifice. But, I acquit our new friend of all that."
"Had he been my own father, dearest mother, his language, and the
interest he took in me, could not have been more paternal. I have found
it truly delightful to listen to such counsel, from one of his sex; for,
in general, they do not treat me in so sincere and fatherly a manner."
Mrs. Dutton's lip quivered, her eye-lids trembled too, and a couple of
tears fell on her cheeks.
"It _is_ new to you, Mildred, to listen to the language of disinterested
affection and wisdom from one of his years and sex. I do not censure
your listening with pleasure, but merely tell you to remember the proper
reserve of your years and character. Hist! there are the sounds of his
barge's oars."
Mildred listened, and the measured but sudden jerk of oars in the
rullocks, ascended on the still night-air, as distinctly as they might
have been heard in the boat. At the next instant, an eight-oared barge
moved swiftly out from under the cliff, and glided steadily on towards a
ship, that had one lantern suspended from the end of her gaff, another
in her mizzen-top, and the small night-flag of a rear-admiral,
fluttering at her mizzen-royal-mast-head. The cutter lay nearest to the
landing, and, as the barge approached her, the ladies heard the loud
hail of "boat-ahoy!" The answer was also audible; though given in the
mild gentleman-like voice of Bluewater, himself. It was simply,
"rear-admiral's flag." A death-like stillness succeeded this
annunciation of the rank of the officer in the passing boat, interrupted
only by the measured jerk of the oars. Once or twice, indeed, the keen
hearing of Mildred made her fancy she heard the common dip of the eight
oars, and the wash of the water, as they rose from the element, to gain
a renewed purchase. As each vessel was approached, however, the hail and
the answer were renewed, the quiet of midnight, in every instance,
succeeding. At length the barge was seen shooting along on the quarter
of the Cæsar, the rear-admiral's own ship, and the last hail was given.
This time, there was a slight stir in the vessel; and, soon after the
sound of the oars ceased, the lanterns descended from the stations they
had held, since nightfall. Two or three other lanterns were still
displayed at the gaffs of other vessels, the signs that their captains
were not on board; though whether they were ashore, or visiting in the
fleet, were facts best known to themselves. The Plantagenet, however,
had no light; it being known that Sir Gervaise did not intend to come
off that night.
When all this was over, Mrs. Dutton and Mildred sought their pillows,
after an exciting day, and, to them, one far more momentous than they
were then aware of.