----“The letter! ay! the letter!
'Tis there a woman loves to speak her wishes;
It spares the blushes of the love-sick maiden.
And every word's a smile, each line a tongue.”
_Duo._
The slumbers of Griffith continued till late on the following morning,
when he was awakened by the report of a cannon, issuing from the deck
above him. He threw himself, listlessly, from his cot, and perceiving
the officer of marines near him, as his servant opened the door of his
stateroom, he inquired, with some little interest in his manner, if “the
ship was in chase of anything, that a gun was fired?”
“'Tis no more than a hint to the Ariel,” the soldier replied, “that
there is bunting abroad for them to read. It seems as if all hands were
asleep on board her, for we have shown her signal, these ten minutes,
and she takes us for a collier, I believe, by the respect she pays it.”
“Say, rather, that she takes us for an enemy, and is wary,” returned
Griffith. “Brown Dick has played the English so many tricks himself,
that he is tender of his faith.”
“Why, they have shown him a yellow flag over a blue one, with a cornet,
and that spells Ariel, in every signal-book we have; surely he can't
suspect the English of knowing how to read Yankee.”
“I have known Yankees read more difficult English,” said Griffith,
smiling; “but, in truth, I suppose that Barnstable has been, like
myself, keeping a dead reckoning of his time, and his men have profited
by the occasion. She is lying to, I trust.”
“Ay! like a cork in a mill-pond, and I dare say you are right. Give
Barnstable plenty of sea-room, a heavy wind, and but little sail, and
he will send his men below, put that fellow he calls long Tom at the
tiller, and follow himself, and sleep as quietly as I ever could at
church.”
“Ah! yours is a somniferous orthodoxy, Captain Manual,” said the young
sailor, laughing, while he slipped his arms into the sleeves of
a morning round-about, covered with the gilded trappings of his
profession; “sleep appears to come most naturally to all you idlers. But
give me a passage, and I will go up, and call the schooner down to us in
the turning of an hour-glass.”
The indolent soldier raised himself from the leaning posture he had
taken against the door of the stateroom, and Griffith proceeded through
the dark wardroom, up the narrow stairs that led him to the principal
battery of the ship, and thence, by another and broader flight of steps
to the open deck.
The gale still blew strong, but steadily; the blue water of the ocean
was rising in mimic mountains, that were crowned with white foam, which
the wind, at times, lifted from its kindred element, to propel in mist,
through the air, from summit to summit. But the ship rode on these
agitated billows with an easy and regular movement that denoted the
skill with which her mechanical powers were directed.
The day was bright and clear, and the lazy sun, who seemed unwilling
to meet the toil of ascending to the meridian, was crossing the heavens
with a southern inclination, that hardly allowed him to temper the
moist air of the ocean with his genial heat. At the distance of a mile,
directly in the wind's eye, the Ariel was seen obeying the signal which
had caused the dialogue we have related. Her low black hull was barely
discernible, at moments, when she rose to the crest of a larger wave
than common; but the spot of canvas that she exposed to the wind was to
be seen, seeming to touch the water on either hand, as the little vessel
rolled amid the seas. At times she was entirely hid from view, when the
faint lines of her raking masts would again be discovered, issuing, as
it were, from the ocean, and continuing to ascend, until the hull itself
would appear, thrusting its bows into the air, surrounded by foam, and
apparently ready to take its flight into another element.
After dwelling a moment on the beautiful sight we have attempted to
describe, Griffith cast his eyes upward to examine, with the keenness of
a seaman, the disposition of things aloft, and then turned his attention
to those who were on the deck of the frigate.
His commander stood, in his composed manner, patiently awaiting the
execution of his order by the Ariel, and at his side was placed the
stranger who had so recently acted such a conspicuous part in the
management of the ship. Griffith availed himself of daylight and his
situation to examine the appearance of this singular being more closely
than the darkness and confusion of the preceding night had allowed. He
was a trifle below the middle size in stature, but his form was muscular
and athletic, exhibiting the finest proportions of manly beauty. His
face appeared rather characterized by melancholy and thought, than by
that determined decision which he had so powerfully displayed in the
moments of their most extreme danger; but Griffith well knew that it
could also exhibit looks of the fiercest impatience. At present, it
appeared, to the curious youth, when compared to the glimpses he
had caught by the lights of their lanterns, like the ocean at rest,
contrasted with the waters around him. The eyes of the pilot rested
on the deck, or, when they did wander, it was with uneasy and rapid
glances. The large pea-jacket, that concealed most of his other attire,
was as roughly made, and of materials as coarse, as that worn by the
meanest seaman in the vessel; and yet it did not escape the inquisitive
gaze of the young lieutenant, that it was worn with an air of neatness
and care that was altogether unusual in men of his profession. The
examination of Griffith ended here, for the near approach of the
Ariel attracted the attention of all on the deck of the frigate to the
conversation that was about to pass between their respective commanders.
As the little schooner rolled along under their stern, Captain Munson
directed his subordinate to leave his vessel and repair on board the
ship. As soon as the order was received, the Ariel rounded to, and
drawing ahead into the smooth water occasioned by the huge fabric that
protected her from the gale, the whale-boat was again launched from her
decks, and manned by the same crew that had landed on those shores which
were now faintly discerned far to leeward, looking like blue clouds on
the skirts of the ocean.
When Barnstable had entered his boat, a few strokes of the oars sent it,
dancing over the waves, to the side of the ship. The little vessel was
then veered off to a distance, where it rode in safety under the care
of a boat-keeper, and the officer and his men ascended the side of the
lofty frigate.
The usual ceremonials of reception were rigidly observed by Griffith and
his juniors, when Barnstable touched the deck; and though every hand was
ready to be extended toward the reckless seaman, none presumed to exceed
the salutations of official decorum, until a short and private dialogue
had taken place between him and their captain.
In the mean time, the crew of the whale-boat passed forward, and mingled
with the seamen of the frigate, with the exception of the cockswain, who
established himself in one of the gangways, where he stood in the
utmost composure, fixing his eyes aloft, and shaking his head in evident
dissatisfaction, as he studied the complicated mass of rigging above
him. This spectacle soon attracted to his side some half-dozen youths,
with Mr. Merry at their head, who endeavored to entertain their guest in
a manner that should most conduce to the indulgence of their own waggish
propensities.
The conversation between Barnstable and his superior soon ended; when
the former, beckoning to Griffith, passed the wondering group who had
collected around the capstan, awaiting his leisure to greet him more
cordially, and led the way to the wardroom, with the freedom of one who
felt himself no stranger. As this unsocial manner formed no part of the
natural temper or ordinary deportment of the man, the remainder of the
officers suffered their first lieutenant to follow him alone, believing
that duty required that their interview should be private. Barnstable
was determined that it should be so, at all events; for he seized the
lamp from the mess-table, and entered the stateroom of his friend,
closing the door behind them and turning the key. When they were
both within its narrow limits--pointing to the only chair the little
apartment contained, with a sort of instinctive deference to his
companion's rank--the commander of the schooner threw himself carelessly
on a sea-chest; and, placing the lamp on the table, he opened the
discourse as follows:
“What a night we had of it! Twenty times I thought I could see the sea
breaking over you; and I had given you over as drowned men, or, what
is worse, as men driven ashore, to be led to the prison-ships of these
islanders, when I saw your lights in answer to my gun. Had you hoisted
the conscience of a murderer, you wouldn't have relieved him more than
you did me, by showing that bit of tallow and cotton, tipped with flint
and steel. But, Griffith, I have a tale to tell of a different kind----”
“Of how you slept when you found yourself in deep water, and how your
crew strove to outdo their commander, and how all succeeded so well
that there was a gray-head on board here, that began to shake with
displeasure,” interrupted Griffith; “truly, Dick, you will get into
lubberly habits on board that bubble in which you float about, where all
hands go to sleep as regularly as the inhabitants of a poultry-yard go
to roost.”
“Not so bad, not half so bad, Ned,” returned the other, laughing; “I
keep as sharp a discipline as if we wore a flag. To be sure, forty men
can't make as much parade as three or four hundred; but as for making or
taking in sail, I am your better any day.”
“Ay, because a pocket-handkerchief is sooner opened and shut than a
table-cloth. But I hold it to be un-seamanlike to leave any vessel
without human eyes, and those open, to watch whether she goes east or
west, north or south.”
“And who is guilty of such a dead man's watch?”
“Why, they say aboard here, that when it blows hard, you seat the man
you call long Tom by the side of the tiller, tell him to keep her head
to sea, and then pipe all hands to their night-caps, where you all
remain, comfortably stowed in your hammocks, until you are awakened by
the snoring of your helmsman.”
“'Tis a damned scandalous insinuation,” cried Barnstable, with an
indignation that he in vain attempted to conceal. “Who gives currency to
such a libel, Mr. Griffith?”
“I had it of the marine,” said his friend, losing the archness that had
instigated him to worry his companion, in the vacant air of one who was
careless of everything; “but I don't believe half of it myself--I have
no doubt you all had your eyes open last night, whatever you might have
been about this morning.”
“Ah! this morning! there was an oversight, indeed! But I was studying a
new signal-book, Griffith, that has a thousand times more interest for
me than all the bunting you can show, from the head to the heel of your
masts.”
“What! have you found out the Englishman's private talk?”
“No, no,” said the other, stretching forth his hand, and grasping the
arm of his friend. “I met last night one on those cliffs, who has proved
herself what I always believed her to be, and loved her for, a girl of
quick thought and bold spirit.”
“Of whom do you speak?”
“Of Katherine----”
Griffith started from his chair involuntarily at the sound of this name,
and the blood passed quickly through the shades of his countenance,
leaving it now pale as death, and then burning as if oppressed by a
torrent from his heart. Struggling to overcome an emotion, which he
appeared ashamed to betray even to the friend he most loved, the young
man soon recovered himself so far as to resume his seat, when he asked,
gloomily:
“Was she alone?”
“She was; but she left with me this paper and this invaluable book,
which is worth a library of all other works.”
The eye of Griffith rested vacantly on the treasure that the other
valued so highly, but his hand seized eagerly the open letter which was
laid on the table for his perusal. The reader will at once understand
that it was in the handwriting of a female, and that it was the
communication Barnstable had received from his betrothed on the cliffs.
Its contents were as follows:
“Believing that Providence may conduct me where we shall meet, or whence
I may be able to transmit to you this account, I have prepared a short
statement of the situation of Cecila Howard and myself; not, however, to
urge you and Griffith to any rash or foolish hazards, but that you may
both sit down, and, after due consultation, determine what is proper for
our relief.
“By this time, you must understand the character of Colonel Howard too
well to expect he will ever consent to give his niece to a rebel. He
has already sacrificed to his loyalty, as he calls it (but I whisper to
Cecilia, 'tis his treason), not only his native country, but no small
part of his fortune also. In the frankness of my disposition (you know
my frankness, Barnstable, but too well!), I confessed to him, after
the defeat of the mad attempt Griffith made to carry off Cecilia, in
Carolina, that I had been foolish enough to enter into some weak promise
to the brother officer who had accompanied the young sailor in his
traitorous visits to the plantation. Heigho! I sometimes think it would
have been better for us all, if your ship had never been chased into the
river, or, after she was there, if Griffith had made no attempt to renew
his acquaintance with my cousin. The colonel received the intelligence
as such a guardian would hear that his ward was about to throw away
thirty thousand dollars and herself on a traitor to his king and
country. I defended you stoutly: said that you had no king, as the tie
was dissolved; that America was your country, and that your profession
was honorable; but it would not all do. He called you rebel; that I was
used to. He said you were a traitor; that, in his vocabulary, amounts to
the same thing. He even hinted that you were a coward; and that I
knew to be false, and did not hesitate to tell him so. He used fifty
opprobrious terms that I cannot remember; but among others were the
beautiful epithets of 'disorganizer,' 'leveller, 'democrat,' and
'jacobin' (I hope he did not mean a monk!). In short, he acted Colonel
Howard in a rage. But as his dominion does not, like that of his
favorite kings, continue from generation to generation, and one short
year will release me from his power, and leave me mistress of my own
actions--that is, if your fine promises are to be believed--I bore it
all very well, being resolved to suffer anything but martyrdom, rather
than abandon Cecilia. She, dear girl, has much more to distress her than
I can have; she is not only the ward of Colonel Howard, but his niece
and his sole heir. I am persuaded this last circumstance makes no
difference in either her conduct or her feelings; but he appears to
think it gives him a right to tyrannize over her on all occasions. After
all, Colonel Howard is a gentleman when you do not put him in a passion,
and, I believe, a thoroughly honest man; and Cecilia even loves him.
But a man who is driven from his country, in his sixtieth year, with the
loss of near half his fortune, is not apt to canonize those who compel
the change.
“It seems that when the Howards lived on this island, a hundred years
ago, they dwelt in the county of Northumberland. Hither, then, he
brought us, when political events, and his dread of becoming the uncle
to a rebel, induced him to abandon America, as he says, forever. We have
been here now three months, and for two-thirds of that time we lived in
tolerable comfort; but latterly, the papers have announced the arrival
of the ship and your schooner in France; and from that moment as strict
a watch has been kept over us as if we had meditated a renewal of
the Carolina flight. The colonel, on his arrival here, hired an old
building, that is, part house, part abbey, part castle, and all prison;
because it is said to have once belonged to an ancestor of his. In this
delightful dwelling there are many cages that will secure more uneasy
birds than we are. About a fortnight ago an alarm was given in a
neighboring village which is situated on the shore, that two American
vessels, answering your description, had been seen hovering along the
coast; and, as people in this quarter dream of nothing but that terrible
fellow, Paul Jones, it was said that he was on board one of them. But
I believe that Colonel Howard suspects who you really are. He was very
minute in his inquiries, I hear; and since then has established a sort
of garrison in the house, under the pretence of defending it against
marauders, like those who are said to have laid my Lady Selkirk under
contribution.
“Now, understand me, Barnstable; on no account would I have you risk
yourself on shore; neither must there be blood spilt, if you love me;
but that you may know what sort of a place we are confined in, and by
whom surrounded, I will describe both our prison and the garrison. The
whole building is of stone, and not to be attempted with slight means.
It has windings and turnings, both internally and externally, that would
require more skill than I possess to make intelligible; but the rooms we
inhabit are in the upper or third floor of a wing, that you may call a
tower, if you are in a romantic mood, but which, in truth, is nothing
but a wing. Would to God I could fly with it! If any accident should
bring you in sight of the dwelling, you will know our rooms by the
three smoky vanes that whiffle about its pointed roof, and also, by the
windows in that story being occasionally open. Opposite to our windows,
at the distance of half a mile, is a retired unfrequented ruin,
concealed, in a great measure, from observation by a wood, and affording
none of the best accommodations, it is true, but shelter in some of its
vaults or apartments. I have prepared, according to the explanations
you once gave me on this subject, a set of small signals, of differently
colored silks, and a little dictionary of all the phrases that I could
imagine as useful to refer to, properly numbered to correspond with the
key and the flags, all of which I shall send you with this letter. You
must prepare your own flags, and of course I retain mine, as well as a
copy of the key and book. If opportunity should ever offer, we can have,
at least, a pleasant discourse together; you from the top of the old
tower in the ruins, and I from the east window of my dressing-room! But
now for the garrison. In addition to the commandant, Colonel Howard, who
retains all the fierceness of his former military profession, there
is, as his second in authority, that bane of Cecilia's happiness, Kit
Dillon, with his long Savannah face, scornful eyes of black, and skin of
the same color. This gentleman, you know, is a distant relative of the
Howards, and wishes to be more nearly allied. He is poor, it is true,
but then, as the colonel daily remarks, he is a good and loyal subject,
and no rebel. When I asked why he was not in arms in these stirring
times, contending for the prince he loves so much, the colonel answers
that it is not his profession, that he has been educated for the law,
and was destined to fill one of the highest judicial stations in the
colonies, and that he hoped he should yet live to see him sentence
certain nameless gentlemen to condign punishment. This was consoling, to
be sure; but I bore it. However, he left Carolina with us, and here he
is, and here he is likely to continue, unless you can catch him, and
anticipate his judgment on himself. The colonel has long desired to see
this gentleman the husband of Cecilia, and since the news of your being
on the coast, the siege has nearly amounted to a storm. The consequences
are, that my cousin at first kept her room, and then the colonel kept
her there, and even now she is precluded from leaving the wing we
inhabit. In addition to these two principal jailers, we have four
men-servants, two black and two white; and an officer and twenty
soldiers from the neighboring town are billeted on us, by particular
desire, until the coast is declared free from pirates! yes, that is the
musical name they give you--and when their own people land, and plunder,
and rob, and murder the men and insult the women, they are called
heroes! It's a fine thing to be able to invent names and make
dictionaries--and it must be your fault, if mine has been framed for no
purpose. I declare, when I recollect all the insulting and cruel things
I hear in this country of my own and her people, it makes me lose
my temper and forget my sex; but do not let my ill humor urge you to
anything rash; remember your life, remember their prisons, remember your
reputation, but do not, do not forget your
“KATHERINE PLOWDEN.
“P.S. I had almost forgotten to tell you, that in the signal-book you
will find a more particular description of our prison, where it stands,
and a drawing of the grounds, etc.”
When Griffith concluded this epistle, he returned it to the man to
whom it was addressed, and fell back in his chair, in an attitude that
denoted deep reflection.
“I knew she was here, or I should have accepted the command offered to
me by our commissioners in Paris,” he at length uttered; “and I thought
that some lucky chance might throw her in my way; but this is bringing
us close, indeed! This intelligence must be acted on, and that promptly.
Poor girl, what does she not suffer in such a situation!”
“What a beautiful hand she writes!” exclaimed Barnstable; “'tis as
clear, and as pretty, and as small, as her own delicate fingers. Griff,
what a log-book she would keep!”
“Cecilia Howard touch the coarse leaves of a log-book!” cried the other
in amazement; but perceiving Barnstable to be poring over the contents
of his mistress' letter, he smiled at their mutual folly, and continued
silent. After a short time spent in cool reflection, Griffith inquired
of his friend the nature and circumstances of his interview with
Katherine Plowden. Barnstable related it, briefly, as it occurred, in
the manner already known to the reader.
“Then,” said Griffith, “Merry is the only one, besides ourselves, who
knows of this meeting, and he will be too chary of the reputation of his
kinswoman to mention it.”
“Her reputation needs no shield, Mr. Griffith,” cried her lover; “'tis
as spotless as the canvas above your head, and----”
“Peace, dear Richard; I entreat your pardon; my words may have conveyed
more than I intended; but it is important that our measures should be
secret, as well as prudently concerted.”
“We must get them both off,” returned Barnstable, forgetting his
displeasure the moment it was exhibited, “and that, too, before the old
man takes it into his wise head to leave the coast. Did you ever get a
sight of his instructions, or does he keep silent?”
“As the grave. This is the first time we have left port, that he has not
conversed freely with me on the nature of the cruise; but not a syllable
has been exchanged between us on the subject, since we sailed from
Brest.”
“Ah! that is your Jersey bashfulness,” said Barnstable; “wait till I
come alongside him, with my eastern curiosity, and I pledge myself to
get it out of him in an hour.”
“'Twill be diamond cut diamond, I doubt,” said Griffith, laughing;
“you will find him as acute at evasion, as you can possibly be at a
cross-examination.”
“At any rate, he gives me a chance to-day; you know, I suppose, that
he sent for me to attend a consultation of his officers on important
matters.”
“I did not,” returned Griffith, fixing his eyes intently on the speaker;
“what has he to offer?”
“Nay, that you must ask your pilot; for while talking to me, the old man
would turn and look at the stranger, every minute, as if watching for
signals how to steer.”
“There is a mystery about that man, and our connection with him, that I
cannot fathom,” said Griffith. “But I hear the voice of Manual calling
for me; we are wanted in the cabin. Remember, you do not leave the ship
without seeing me again.”
“No, no, my dear fellow; from the public we must retire to another
private consultation.”
The young men arose, and Griffith, throwing off the roundabout in which
he had appeared on deck, drew on a coat of more formal appearance, and
taking a sword carelessly in his hand, they proceeded together along the
passage already described, to the gun-deck, where they entered, with the
proper ceremonials, into the principal cabin of the frigate.