HOME FROM SEA.
"The dark-blue jacket that enfolds the sailor's manly breast
Bears more of real honor than the star and ermine vest;
The tithe of folly in his head may wake the landsman's mirth,
But Nature proudly owns him as her child of sterling worth."
--ELIZA COOK.
"Clear the track! off we go! whip up old lazybones there, and don't let
him crawl on at that snail's pace! That's more like; now for it, at
five knots an hour! It's pleasant to see the old familiar faces again,
after knocking about in strange ports for half a dozen years--don't
you think so, messmate?" and the speaker, a dashing, handsome,
good-humored-looking young fellow, with the unmistakable air of a sailor
about him, gave his fellow-passenger, an elderly, cross-looking old
gentleman, who sat beside him on the roof of the stage-coach, a
confidential dig with his elbow, that nearly pushed him, head-first, out
of his seat.
"Lord bless my soul! young man, there's no necessity for breaking a
man's ribs about it--is there?" said the old gentleman, snappishly. "I
dare say, it's all very nice, but you needn't dislocate your neighbor's
bones about it. Do you belong to this place?" asked the old man, after a
short pause, during which his companion had politely apologized for the
unnecessary force of the blow in the ribs.
"Yes, sir," said the young man, with emphasis, "that I do! and in all my
rambles round the world, I never saw a place I liked better! No place
like home, you know. Hurrah! for good old Judestown!"
"I wonder you go to sea, then," said the old man, crossly; "you're a
fool to do it, getting drowned fifty times a day. I warrant you, you are
always on the spree whenever you get on shore, like the rest of them,
spending all your money instead of putting it in the savings bank, as
you ought to do, as a provision for your old age."
"Me get on the spree?" said the sailor, drawing himself up; "no, sir-ee.
All my money goes to provide bread and molasses for my wife and family."
"Why, bless my soul and body!" exclaimed the old gentleman, surveying
his young companion through his spectacles in utter surprise, "you're
surely not married yet, youngster."
"Yes, I regret to say I am," said the youngster in question in a passive
tone, "and got a large family with large appetites to support. It's
melancholy to reflect upon, but it's true. My wife keeps a
billiard-saloon, and the children keep apple-stands at the corner of the
streets, except my oldest daughter, and she's at service. Fine family,
sir! Halloa! here we are, at the Judestown House, and there's my old
friend, Mrs. Gudge."
"Humph!" grunted the old gentleman, doubtfully; "where are you from
last, young man?"
"Liverpool--ship 'Sea Nymph;' master, Burleigh; first mate, Randolph
Lawless, Esq., late of Heath Hill. Had some distinguished passengers out
with us, too," said the young man, tightening his belt.
"Humph!" again grunted the old man. "Who were they, may I ask?"
"Certainly, you may ask, and I have great pleasure in answering, the
Earl and Countess De Courcy, and their daughter, Lady Rita--perhaps
you're acquainted with them already," said the young man, with a wicked
look in his knowing eyes.
"No, sir, I'm not," snapped the old man, "and, what's more, I don't want
to be, either, whether you believe it or not."
"Well, it's their loss then; that's all I have to say about it. Here we
are at anchor, at last. Halloa, Mrs. Gudge! don't you know me?"
exclaimed the young man, springing lightly from his lofty perch and
alighting like a cat on his feet.
"Why, Master Ranty! is this yourself?" cried Mrs. Gudge, clasping her
fat hands and going off into a transport of delight, wonderful to
behold. "Dearie me! how glad I am! how tall you are, and how brown, and
handsomer than ever, I declare!"
Our old friend, Ranty, laughed, and dashed back his sun-browned locks
off his happy, thoughtless face, as he answered:
"I believe you, Mrs. Gudge; so handsome, in fact, that they wanted to
take away the Apollo Belvidere--a gentleman you are not acquainted with,
Mrs. Gudge--and put me in his place. My modesty, of which I have at
least the full of a tar-bucket, would not permit me to listen to such a
proposal a moment. And now, my dear madam, how are all my friends at
Heath Hill and Old Barrens?"
"First-rate!" replied Mrs. Gudge; "the judge was here, not ten minutes
ago, with that big, rough fellow, with all the hair about his face;
Black Bart they call him."
"One of those notorious smugglers! whew! I hope my excellent father is
not taking to contraband courses in his latter days. What, in the name
of Amphitrite, could he want of Black Bart?"
"Well, he said he wanted information about the smugglers, and he sent my
old man to look for Bart."
"Humph! Set a fox to catch a fox! I wonder how he succeeded. Seen our
Pet, lately?"
"No, not since one day she dressed herself in my Bobby's clothes, and
drove young Mr. Germaine and Miss Erminie over to the cottage," said
Mrs. Gudge, laughing.
"Dressed herself in Bob's clothes! what the dickens did she do that
for?"
"For fun, she said; none of us knew them that day except her, and she
drove them over without their ever finding her out. Miss Pet always is
doing something out of the way, you know, Master Ranty."
"And how is Mr. Germaine and Miss Erminie, Mrs. Gudge?"
"Very well, indeed! Lor' bless me! you would hardly know Mr. Ray; he's
shot up like a Maypole, and got one of them nasty mustarches onto his
upper lip. Of all the ugly things they beats all. It actually makes my
flesh creep to see them eating or drinking with them on. I'm glad you
don't wear one, Master Ranty, for of all the disgraceful things--" Mrs.
Gudge paused, and rolled her eyes as in intense disgust, by way of
filling up the hiatus.
"It's no merit of mine, I am afraid," said Ranty, passing his hand over
his lip; "I've been mowing away for the last three years; but owing to
some mysterious dispensation of Providence, or the barrenness of the
soil, or some other inscrutable reason, nothing can be induced to
sprout. I feel myself put upon by Fate, I do so, Mrs. Gudge! There's
Ray, now with whiskers, flourishing, no doubt, like a green bay tree;
and here am I, a young man twice as deserving, with a face as smooth as
a sheet of foolscap. It's a darned shame, and I won't put up with it,
hanged if I do! Mrs. Gudge, let me have a horse and wagon, or a
superannuated gander, or a go-cart, or some other quadruped to take me
home. Since I must tear myself away, I may as well do it first as last."
Mrs. Gudge opened the door, and called to Bobby to bring round a horse;
and soon after that hopeful made his appearance, leading the animal by
the bridle. Ranty waved a good-by to Mrs. Gudge, flung a handful of
coppers to her son, jumped into the saddle, and was off, as Bob Gudge
afterward expressed it "like Old Nick in a gale of wind."
Ranty's eyes lit up with pleasure as the old, familiar scenes came once
more in view. There was the forest road, bringing back the memory of the
dangerous, practical joke they had played on Pet. There was Dismal
Hollow, silent, grim gloomy, and lonely--a fit habitation for Miss
Priscilla Toosypegs. There was the Barrens; there was the little, white,
vine-shaded cottage; and yonder in the distance, dazzling in its
spotless paint, was the staring, garish White Squall. There, too, was
the brown-scorched road leading through the purple bloom of the heath to
his own ancestral home of Heath Hill.
"Now to give them a surprise," said Ranty, as he alighted at the little
cottage-gate and approached the door; "wonder if Minnie will know me; I
hope she is in."
The parlor-door lay wide open, and he looked in unobserved. It was the
day on which Judge Lawless had proposed, a few hours later; and Erminie,
whose gentle nature had not quite recovered from the wound his threats
and harsh words had given her, sat alone with the evening shadows
falling around her--her head resting on her hand, and her large, soft
blue eyes dark with unshed tears. Pet had just departed; and the
quietness and reaction following the luster of her exciting presence
made the silence and loneliness more dreary still.
Ranty's first impulse had been to rush in, catch her in his arms, and
give her a rousing salute; but the moment he saw her sweet, pale face
and drooping figure, a feeling more nearly approaching to timidity than
anything our impudent young sailor had ever felt before, held him back.
Somehow he had expected to see a slender, delicate little girl, such as
he had last beheld her; but she had passed away forever, and here in her
place sat a tall, elegant girl, with a face as lovely as the
hazel-haired Madonna's that had smiled upon him in the dim, old
cathedral-aisles of glorious Italy. He took one step forward; she lifted
her head with a startled look; her eyes met his, and she started
impetuously to her feet.
"Erminie!"
"Ranty! Oh, Ranty! I am so glad!"
She caught his hand in both hers, while her face, a moment before so
pale, flushed with delight, and the violet eyes were fairly radiant with
joy.
"Oh, Ranty, I am so glad! When did you come?"
"Got to Baltimore day before yesterday. I suppose you hardly expected to
see me to-night, Erminie?"
"No, indeed! And it is the most delightful surprise!" exclaimed Erminie,
her beautiful face irradiated with joy, and forgetting she was no longer
speaking to the boy Ranty. But when she caught his eyes fixed upon her
with a look the boy had never worn, the flush rose painfully even to her
very forehead. She dropped his hand, while her eyes fell, and she said,
in a less assured tone:
"Sit down; you must be tired after your journey. I am very sorry Ray is
not at home to meet you."
"Never mind; I will see him to-morrow. And all my friends have been
quite well since I left, Erminie?"
"Yes, all. If you had arrived ten minutes sooner, you would have seen
Pet. She has just gone."
"Well, I will shortly have that pleasure. How tall you have grown, and
how you have changed since I saw you last, Erminie!"
He meant more the emphatic but undefinable change from childhood to
womanhood, than that of her looks. Perhaps Erminie understood him, for
she said, laughing:
"Not for the worse, I hope. You, too, have changed, Master Ranty."
"Well, not much, I think; I have grown five or six feet taller, and my
complexion has become a genteel brown; but, otherwise, I am the same
Ranty Lawless I went away."
"A little quieter, I should hope, for the peace and well-being of the
community at large. Do you still retain the high opinion you had of
yourself before you left?"
"Yes, slightly increased," said Ranty, who had now recovered all his
customary nonchalance of manner. "There was a little lady out with us
from England whose precious life I had the pleasure of saving; and with
whose raven eyes and coal-black hair I would have fallen in love, but
for the thought of a dear little blue-eyed fairy at home, who promised
to wait for me until I could come back. Do you remember that promise,
Erminie?"
"I only remember you were very absurd," said Erminie, laughing and
blushing. "Don't talk nonsense; but tell me how you were so fortunate as
to save the lady's life?"
"Well, one windy evening, a little before dark, this little Lady Rita,
who by the way, though the haughtiest, sauciest young damsel I ever
encountered, was quite courageous, came upon deck, and insisted on
remaining there, in spite of all expostulations to the contrary. She was
leaning over the side, and I was standing near, watching her, for want
of something better to do, when the vessel gave a sudden lurch round. I
heard a scream, and beheld the place where her little ladyship had
lately stood vacant. I caught sight of her the next moment struggling in
the waves; and, in a twinkling, I was in after her. Lady Rita, who had
hitherto looked down upon me and all the rest of us with sublimest
hauteur and vestal prudery, made not the slightest objection to be
caught in my arms now; on the contrary, she held on with an energy that
nearly strangled me. A boat was lowered, and we were fished up, clinging
to each other, as if bound to hold on to the last gasp. Lady Rita,
according to the incomprehensible custom of the female sex in general,
fainted stone dead the moment she found herself in safety. It's
interesting to faint, and I was looking round for a nice place to follow
her example; but upon second thoughts I concluded I wouldn't. There were
no nice young ladies round who understood my case; and to be tickled
with burnt feathers, and be drenched with cold water by a lot of
sailors, was not to be thought of. Lady Rita was carried to the cabin;
and a great fuss and commotion reigned there for the next two or three
hours, while I was taking life easy, smoking a cigar on deck. Then the
earl, her 'parient,' made his appearance, and completely deluged me with
gratitude and thanks, which I stood like a hero, until the countess also
came. Her tears and protestations of everlasting gratitude were a little
too much, and I fled. I blush to say it, but I beat an inglorious
retreat, for thanks are things one easily gets a surfeit of."
"Why, Ranty, you have sailed in high company lately," said Erminie;
"earl and countess--dear me! I begin to feel quite an awe of you."
"So you ought; and I hope you'll continue to cherish the feeling. But,
Erminie, do you know--though, as you have never seen him, it's likely
you don't--but you have the most wonderful resemblance to Lord De Courcy
I ever beheld in my life."
"Lord De Courcy!" exclaimed Erminie, growing pale as she remembered
Ketura's fearful denunciations against all who bore that name.
"Yes, Lord and Lady De Courcy are at present in Washington City. The
earl says he always felt a desire to visit this country; but, hitherto,
circumstances prevented him. The countess is a lovely woman--one of the
most beautiful, I think, I ever saw; and as good as she is beautiful,
every one says."
"I have heard of her before," said Erminie, in a low, subdued tone. "Mr.
Toosypegs saw her many years ago, when he was in England. At least, I
imagine it was her; for she was the wife of the old earl's son, and Mr.
Toosypegs says that since the death of his father he has been Lord De
Courcy."
"Yes, so he has," said Ranty; "he was then Lord Villiers; but really,
Minnie, your likeness to him is quite wonderful."
"Well, it is not unusual for strangers to resemble one another; though I
suppose I ought to feel flattered by looking in the remotest degree like
one so great and distinguished. How much I should like to see them
both!" said Erminie, musingly. "I have heard so much about them from Mr.
Toosypegs, and--another, that my curiosity is quite excited. And their
daughter--this Lady Rita--was that what you called her? By the way,
Ranty, I never heard they had a daughter."
"Yes, they had two; the oldest died, I believe, when a child; and Lady
Rita--well, some say she is not their daughter, but an adopted child. I
don't know how that may be; though, certain it is, she does not look
like either of them--not half so much as you do, Erminie. Both of them
have very fair complexions, while Lady Rita is as dark as a creole. The
countess, to be sure, has dark hair and eyes; but still her haughty
little daughter does not resemble her in the least."
"Do they remain here long?" said Erminie, half musingly. "Oh, Ranty, how
much I should like to see them!"
"Well, perhaps you may; in the overflowing of their gratitude, they made
me promise to visit them _en famille_, while they remained; and if
you'll only consent to keep your promise, and become Mrs. Lawless, why,
you can come with me, and I know they will be delighted to welcome my
wife."
"Nonsense, Ranty," said Erminie, a little impatiently, "how absurd you
are! I am not to be accountable for your silly talk when we parted, I
hope?"
"Well, all I have to say about it is, that there will be a case of
'breach of promise' up before the court one of these days, if you
attempt to back out. Are you prepared to pay me five or six thousand
dollars damages, as a plaster for my wounded feelings, may I ask, Miss
Germaine?"
"As if your affections were worth one-tenth that sum, Mr. Lawless! Now,
do be sensible, if you can, and tell me how long you are going to stay
home."
"As to being sensible, Miss Germaine, I flatter myself I am that now;
and my stay, or departure, must depend in a great measure on you."
"Now, Ranty, I shall get angry if you don't stop being so nonsensical!"
said Erminie, flushing slightly. "I did hope going to sea would have put
a little sense into your head; but I perceive it has had quite a
contrary effect. I wish you could see Ray. These six years have made him
as grave and thoughtful as a judge. I expect he will be quite famous in
his profession yet."
"Well, I wish him joy of it," said Ranty. "But how any man can reconcile
it to his conscience to be a lawyer, while honest, straight-forward
piracy is flourishing in the South Seas, and old-fashioned, upright
brigands infest the Pyrenees, is beyond my comprehension! However, every
one to their taste; and, luckily, this is a free country. Good-by, now,
Miss Germaine. Fate and the approach of night compels me to be off; but
you may look out for me an hour or so before day-dawn to-morrow."
And Ranty got up, shook hands with Erminie, mounted his horse, and rode
off.
"Now Ranty Lawless," said that gentleman to himself, when fairly on the
road, "it's my private belief and impression that you are falling in
love, young man! What a sweet, artless, lovely face the girl has got,
any way! And those eyes--those wistful, tender, violet eyes--how they do
go through a fellow's vest-pattern, though! Ranty, my son, take care!
Have you escaped the witchery of dark-eyed Spanish donas; the melting
glances of Italia's raven-haired daughters; the enchantment of the
little knobby-footed, suffron-skinned ladies of the Celestial Empire;
the bedevilment of the free-and-easy mesdames of free-and-easy France,
to be hooked the moment you land, by the blue eyes, golden hair, pearly
skin, and pink cheeks of this little cottage-girl, Erminie? What will
the governor say, I want to know? Well, it's time enough to think of
that yet. No use worrying till the time comes. 'Care killed a cat,' they
say; so, lest I should share in that unfortunate quadruped's fate, I
shall take things easy. There's the White Squall. I think I shall go
over and see my worthy uncle, the admiral."
So saying, Ranty rode rapidly in the direction of the flaring white
mansion, and entered, without ceremony. The admiral, as usual, was alone
in the parlor, and gave his nephew a boisterous welcome, shaking his
hand as if he had hold of the handle of a pump, until Ranty winced and
jerked it away. Then, having replied to the avalanche of questions with
which the ancient mariner overwhelmed him, Ranty rose, and rode
homeward, to surprise the household there.
Surprise the household he did--at least all of them to be found--which
were only the servants. The judge was gone, and so was Pet.
"Why, Aunt Deb, Pet started for home nearly an hour ago," said Ranty,
somewhat alarmed. "What can have become of her?"
"Lors! Mars'r Ranty, how de debbil I know?" said Aunt Deb, who was given
to profanity now and then. "Dar ain't nebber no tellin' whar dat ar
little limb pokes herself. She might be at dem old Bar'ns, or she might
be at Dismal Holler, or she might be gone to old Harry--"
"Old Harry!" interrupted Ranty, angrily. "What do you mean?"
"Why, ole Mars'r Harry Hateful; dar ain't no tellin' whar she is!"
"Well, that's true enough. I wish she were here, however. Perhaps she
won't be back to-night," said Ranty, walking up and down the room, and
whistling a sea air.
Aunt Deb bustled out to prepare supper, to which meal our young sailor
sat down alone, wondering, alternately, where Pet could be, and thinking
of the witching, violet eyes of Erminie. Then, when it was over, he took
up a book, to beguile time, hoping still to see Pet; but when eleven
o'clock struck, he gave up the idea of seeing her that night, and
retired to bed, to dream of Erminie.
As he had partaken of the evening meal alone the evening before, so was
he forced to sit _solo_ at breakfast. Neither Pet nor the judge had
returned, nor were any tidings to be obtained of their whereabouts; and,
after breakfast, Ranty immediately rode over to the Barrens.
In the cottage he found Ray, who had just returned, who was receiving an
account of Ranty's arrival from the lips of Erminie, when the entrance
of that young gentleman himself cut it short. Warm and hearty was the
greeting between the two friends; for never brothers loved each other
better than did they.
"I suppose Pet was in perfect ecstasies of delight at your unexpected
return," said Erminie, taking her work and sitting down on her low
rocking-chair by the window.
"Pet! why the little gadabout never was at home at all last night; and
where the deuce to find her, I don't know."
"Not at home!" said Erminie, in surprise. "Why, where can she be, then?"
"Well, Miss Germaine, that is just what I would feel very much obliged
to you to tell me. It's very like looking for a needle in a hay-stack,
I'm inclined to think, to go hunting for her. The best way, is to take
things easy, and let her come home when she likes."
"Why, it is most singular," said Erminie. "I know she started for home,
and took the road leading to Heath Hill. Perhaps she changed her mind,
and went to the White Squall."
"No; that she didn't," said Ranty. "I was there last night after leaving
here. The girl's bewitched; and perhaps she rode off on some Quixotic
expedition by herself."
"She was on foot," said Erminie, now really growing alarmed. "Starlight
was lame or something; so she started to walk home. Oh, Ranty! I am
afraid that something has happened to her," she cried, looking up in
terror.
"Oh, pooh, Ermie! What could happen to her between this and Heath Hill?
Nonsense!" said Ranty, beginning to look uneasy.
"What hour did she leave here, Minnie?" asked Ray, his dark face paling
slightly at the thought of danger to her.
"It was nearly dark, and she had to walk all alone over that lonesome
heath. Oh, Ray! something must have happened to her!" cried Erminie,
growing white with vague alarm.
"Why, what in Heaven's name could have happened to her?" asked Ranty,
catching the infection of Erminie's fears. "No one has ever been
molested on the heath."
"Those lawless smugglers are continually prowling around now; and it is
very unsafe for a young girl to venture in such a lonely place,
unprotected, after night. Good heavens! if she should have fallen into
their hands!" cried Ray starting up, in consternation.
"Oh, Ray! I hope not. Oh, Ray! do you really think she has?" exclaimed
Erminie, clasping her hands in mortal terror.
"There is no telling. Some of that lawless gang are continually prowling
about the woods, and shore, and heath, and if they saw Pet--Miss
Lawless," he added, checking himself, and biting his lip--"they would
have made her a prisoner at once. There is no deed of violence too dark
or dreadful for them to do. They are something worse than smugglers, I
more than suspect. This smuggling, I fancy, serves but as a cloak for
the far worse crime of piracy. I have heard that their leader--Captain
Reginald, they call him--is one of the most reckless and daring
desperadoes that ever made general war under the black flag; and those
of his crew that I have seen roving about here, look to be cut-throats,
savage enough for anything, from wholesale murder downward. Great
Heaven! if Petronilla should have fallen into their hands!" said Ray,
pacing up and down in much agitation.
"But it cannot be, Ray; it is impossible, absurd, I tell you. Why, man,
what could these buccaneers possibly want with Pet? A nice prize she
would be for any one to take in tow!" said Ranty, getting alarmed in
spite of himself.
"They might take her in the hope of obtaining a large ransom for her
release, or they might--oh! the thought is too horrible to contemplate!"
exclaimed Ray, almost fiercely. "Ranty, why are we losing time here,
when your sister may be in such danger? This is no time for idle
talking. About! mount! and off in search of her! I will instantly
follow!"
"Well, but wait a minute, Ray, before starting on this wild-goose
chase," said Ranty. "How do we know that she is not safely housed in
Dismal Hollow, or somewhere in Judestown, all this time, while we are
raving about pirates and abductors?"
"Oh, she is not! she is not!" cried Erminie, wringing her hands. "She
started for Heath Hill, and had no intention of going anywhere else.
Wild and daring as she is, she would not venture to walk alone through
the forest after night. Oh, holy saints! what can have become of her?"
"We are losing time talking," said Ray, whose face was now perfectly
colorless with contending emotions. "Mount, Ranty, and ride back to
Heath Hill and the White Squall, and see if she has returned to either
place since you left. I will go to Dismal Hollow and Judestown, and
search for her there. If she is to be found in neither of these places,
then it must be too true that she has fallen into the hands of the
smugglers."
Ranty, alarmed, but still incredulous, sprung on his horse and galloped
rapidly in the direction of the White Squall, while Ray, at an equally
rapid and excited pace, took the opposite road leading to Dismal Hollow.
And Erminie, white with vague, nameless, but terrible apprehension,
remained behind, to pace up and down the floor, wring her hands and
strain her eyes in anxious watching for their return.
Ranty was the first to return, with the alarming tidings that nothing
had been heard of her at either place since. Nearly wild with terror
now, Erminie continued her excited pace up and down the room, crying
bitterly.
"Oh! I should not have let her go! I should not have let her go! I ought
to have kept her all night. I knew it was dangerous crossing the heath,
and I should not have let her attempt it alone. Oh, if Ray would only
come!"
But another long, seemingly interminable hour passed before Ray made his
appearance, and then he came dashing up, pale, wild and excited.
His eyes met Ranty's as he entered. That glance told all--both had
failed.
"You have not found her?" said Ranty, hurriedly.
"No; but I heard enough to confirm my worst suspicions. Late yesterday
afternoon, Orlando Toosypegs says he saw one of the gang, a fellow
called Black Bart, accompanied by some one else, he could not discern
who, but doubtless another of the outlaws, take the forest-road leading
this way. Pet has been waylaid and entrapped by them, there can be no
doubt; for neither of them have been seen since."
Erminie dropped, like one suddenly stricken, into a seat, and hid her
face in her hands. Brother and lover looked in each other's pale faces
with an unspoken: "What next?"