MILES WALLINGFORD
Sequel to Afloat and Ashore.
By J. Fenimore Cooper.
1863.
Preface
The conclusion of this tale requires but little preface. Many persons may
think that there is too much of an old man's despondency in a few of the
opinions of this portion of the work; but, after sixty, it is seldom we
view the things of this world _en beau_. There are certain political
allusions, very few in number, but pretty strong in language, that the
signs of the times fully justify, in the editor's judgment; though he does
not profess to give his own sentiments in this work, so much as those of
the subject of the narrative himself. "The anti-rent combination," for
instance, will prove, according to the editor's conjectures, to be one of
two things in this community--the commencement of a dire revolution, or
the commencement of a return to the sounder notions and juster principles
that prevailed among us thirty years since, than certainly prevail to-day.
There is one favourable symptom discoverable in the deep-seated disease
that pervades the social system: men dare, and do, deal more honestly and
frankly with the condition of society in this country, than was done a few
years since. This right, one that ought to be most dear to every freeman,
has been recovered only by painful sacrifices and a stern resolution; but
recovered it has been, in some measure; and, were the pens of the country
true to their owners' privileges, we should soon come to a just view of
the sacred nature of private character, as well as the target-like
vulnerability of public follies and public vice. It is certain that, for a
series of dangerous years, notions just the reverse of this have prevailed
among us, gradually rendering the American press equally the vehicle of
the most atrocious personal calumny, and the most flatulent national
self-adulation. It is under such a state of things that the few evils
alluded to in this work have had their rise. Bodies of men, however
ignorant or small, have come to consider themselves as integral portions
of a community that never errs, and, consequently, entitled to esteem
themselves infallible. When in debt, they have fancied it political
liberty to pay their debts by the strong hand; a very easy transition for
those who believe themselves able to effect all their objects. The disease
has already passed out of New York into Pennsylvania; it will spread, like
any other epidemic, throughout the country; and there will soon be a
severe struggle among us, between the knave and the honest man. Let the
class of the latter look to it. It is to be hoped it is still
sufficiently powerful to conquer.
These few remarks are made in explanation of certain opinions of Mr.
Wallingford, that have been extorted from him by the events of the day, as
he was preparing this work for the press; remarks that might seem out of
place, were it not a part of his original plan, which contemplated
enlarging far more than he has, indeed, on some of the prominent
peculiarities of the state of society in which he has passed the greater
part of his days.
Miles Wallingford
Chapter I.
--"But I'll not chide thee;
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it;
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove;
Mend when thou canst--"
Lear.
It is almost as impossible to describe minutely what occurred on the
boat's reaching the Wallingford, as to describe all the terrific incidents
of the struggle between Drewett and myself in the water. I had sufficient
perception, however, to see, as I was assisted on board by Mr. Hardinge
and Neb, that Lucy was not on deck. She had probably gone to join Grace,
with a view to be in readiness for meeting the dire intelligence that was
expected. I afterwards learned that she was long on her knees in the
after-cabin, engaged in that convulsive prayer which is apt to accompany
sudden and extreme distress in those who appeal to God in their agony.
During the brief moments, and they were but mere particles of time, if one
can use such an expression, in which my senses could catch anything beyond
the horrid scene in which I was so closely engaged, I had heard shrill
screams from the lungs of Chloe; but Lucy's voice had not mingled in the
outcry. Even now, as we were raised, or aided, to the deck, the former
stood, with her face glistening with tears, half convulsed with terror and
half expanding with delight, uncertain whether to laugh or to weep,
looking first at her master and then at her own admirer, until her
feelings found a vent in the old exclamation of "der feller!"
It was fortunate for Andrew Drewett that a man of Post's experience and
steadiness was with us. No sooner was the seemingly lifeless body on
board, than Mr. Hardinge ordered the water-cask to be got out; and he and
Marble would have soon been rolling the poor fellow with all their might,
or holding him up by the heels, under the notion that the water he had
swallowed must be got out of him, before he could again breathe; but the
authority of one so high in the profession soon put a stop to this.
Drewett's wet clothes were immediately removed, blankets were warmed at
the galley, and the most judicious means were resorted to, in order to
restore the circulation. The physician soon detected signs of life, and,
ordering all but one or two assistants to leave the spot, in ten minutes
Drewett was placed in a warm bed, and might be considered out of danger.
The terrific scene enacted so directly before his eyes, produced an effect
on the _Albon_-ny man, who consented to haul aft his main-sheet, lower his
studding-sail and top-sail, come by the wind, stand across to the
Wallingford, heave-to, and lower a boat. This occurred just as Drewett was
taken below; and, a minute later, old Mrs. Drewett and her two daughters,
Helen and Caroline, were brought alongside of us. The fears of these
tender relatives were allayed by my report; for, by this time, I could
both talk and walk; and Post raised no objection to their being permitted
to go below. I seized that opportunity to jump down into the sloop's hold,
where Neb brought me some dry clothes; and I was soon in a warm,
delightful glow, that contributed in no small degree to my comfort. So
desperate had been my struggles, however, that it took a good night's rest
completely to restore the tone of my nerves and all my strength. My
arrangements were barely completed, when I was summoned to the cabin.
Grace met me with extended arms. She wept on my bosom for many minutes.
She was dreadfully agitated as it was; though happily she knew nothing of
the cause of Chloe's screams, and of the confusion on deck, until I was
known to be safe. Then Lucy communicated all the facts to her in as
considerate a manner as her own kind and gentle nature could dictate. I
was sent for, as just stated, and caressed like any other precious thing
that its owner had supposed itself about to lose. We were still in an
agitated state, when Mr. Hardinge appeared at the door of the cabin, with
a prayer-book in his hand. He demanded our attention, all kneeling in both
cabins, while the good, simple-minded old man read some of the collects,
the Lord's Prayer, and concluded with the thanksgiving for "a safe return
from sea"! He would have given us the marriage ceremony itself, before he
would have gone out of the prayer-book for any united worship whatever.
It was impossible not to smile at this last act of pious simplicity, while
it was equally impossible not to be touched with such an evidence of
sincere devotion. The offering had a soothing influence on all our
feelings, and most especially on those of the excited females. As I came
out into the main-cabin, after this act of devotion, the excellent divine
took me in his arms, kissed me just as he had been used to do when a boy,
and blessed me aloud. I confess I was obliged to rush on deck to conceal
my emotion.
In a few minutes I became sufficiently composed to order sail made on our
course, when we followed the Orpheus up the river, soon passing her, and
taking care to give her a wide berth; a precaution I long regretted not
having used at first. As Mrs. Drewett and her two daughters refused to quit
Andrew, we had the whole family added to our party, as it might be, per
force. I confess to having been sufficiently selfish to complain a little,
to myself only, however, at always finding these people in my way, during
the brief intervals I now enjoyed of being near Lucy. As there was no help
after seeing all the canvass spread, I took a seat in one of the chairs
that stood on the main-deck, and began, for the first time, coolly to
ponder on all that had just passed. While thus occupied, Marble drew a
chair to my side, gave me a cordial squeeze of the hand, and began to
converse. At this moment, neatly tricked out in dry clothes, stood Neb on
the forecastle, with his arms folded, sailor-fashion, as calm as if he had
never felt the wind blow; occasionally giving in, however, under the
influence of Chloe's smiles and unsophisticated admiration. In these
moments of weakness the black would bow his head, give vent to a short
laugh when, suddenly recovering himself, he would endeavour to appear
dignified. While this pantomime was in the course of exhibition forward,
the discourse aft did not flag.
"Providence intends you for something remarkable, Miles," my mate
continued, after one or two brief expressions of his satisfaction at my
safety; "something uncommonly remarkable, depend on it. First, you were
spared in the boat off the Isle of Bourbon; then, in another boat off
Delaware Bay; next, you got rid of the Frenchman so dexterously in the
British Channel; after that, there was the turn-up with the bloody Smudge
and his companions; next comes the recapture of the Crisis; sixthly, as
one might say, you picked me up at sea, a runaway hermit; and now here,
this very day, seventhly and lastly, are you sitting safe and sound, after
carrying as regular a lubber as ever fell overboard, on your head and
shoulders, down to the bottom of the Hudson, no less than three times! I
consider you to be the only man living who ever sank his three times, and
came up to tell of it, with his own tongue."
"I am not at all conscious of having said one word about it, Moses," I
retorted, a little drily.
"Every motion, every glance of your eye, boy, tells the story. No;
Providence intends you for something remarkable, you may rely on _that_.
One of these days you may go to Congress--who knows?"
"By the same rule, you are to be included, then; for in most of my
adventures you have been a sharer, besides having quantities that are
exclusively your own. Remember, you have even been a hermit."
"Hu-s-h--not a syllable about it, or the children would run after me as a
sight. You must have generalized in a remarkable way, Miles, after you
sunk the last time, without much hope of coming up again?"
"Indeed, my friend, you are quite right in your conjecture. So near a view
of death is apt to make us all take rapid and wide views of the past. I
believe it even crossed my mind that _you_ would miss me sadly."
"Ay," returned Marble, with feeling; "them are the moments to bring out
the truth! Not a juster idee passed your brain than _that_, Master Miles,
I can assure you. Missed you! I would have bought a boat and started for
Marble Land, never again to quit it, the day after the funeral. But there
stands your cook, fidgeting and looking this way, as if she had a word to
put in on the occasion. This expl'ite of Neb's will set the niggers up in
the world; and it wouldn't surprise me if it cost you a suit of finery
all round."
"A price I will cheerfully pay for my life. It is as you say--Dido
certainly wishes to speak to me, and I must give her an invitation to
come nearer."
Dido Clawbonny was the cook of the family, and the mother of Chloe.
Whatever hypercriticism might object to her colour, which was a black out
of which all the gloss had fairly glistened itself over the fire, no one
could deny her being full blown. Her weight was exactly two hundred, and
her countenance a strange medley of the light-heartedness of her race, and
the habitual and necessary severity of a cook. She often protested that
she was weighed down by "responserbility;" the whole of the discredit of
overdone beef, or under-done fish, together with those which attach
themselves to heavy bread, lead-like buckwheat-cakes, and a hundred other
similar cases, belonging exclusively to her office. She had been twice
married, the last connection having been formed only a twelvemonth before.
In obedience to a sign, this important lady now approached.
"Welcome back, Masser Mile," Dido began with a curtsey, meaning "Welcome
back from being half-drowned;" "ebberybody _so_ grad you isn't hurt!"
"Thank you, Dido--thank you with all my heart. If I have gained nothing
else by the ducking, I have gained a knowledge of the manner in which my
servants love me."
"Lor' bless us all! How we help it, Masser Mile? As if a body can
posserbly help how lub come and go! Lub jest like religion, Masser
Mile--some get him, and some don't. But lub for a young masser and a young
missus, sah--_dat_ jest as nat'ral, as lub for ole masser and ole missus.
I t'ink nut'in' of neider."
Luckily, I was too well acquainted with the Clawbonny dialect to need a
vocabulary in order to understand the meaning of Dido. All she wished to
express was the idea that it was so much a matter of course for the
dependants of the family to love its heads, that she did not think the
mere circumstance, in itself, worthy of a second thought.
"Well, Dido," I said, "how does matrimony agree with you, in your old
age? I hear you took a second partner to yourself, while I was last
at sea."
Dido let her eyes fall on the deck, according to the custom of all brides,
let their colour be what it may; manifested a proper degree of confusion,
then curtsied, turned her full moon-face so as to resemble a half-moon,
and answered, with a very suspicious sort of a sigh--
"Yes, Masser Mile, dat jest so. I did t'ink to wait and ask 'e young
masser's consent; but Cupid say"--not the god of love, but an old negro of
that name, Dido's second partner--"but Cupid say, 'what odd he make to
Masser Mile; he long way off, and he won't care:' and so, sah, rader than
be tormented so by Cupid, one had altogedder better be married at
once--dat all, sah."
"And that is quite enough, my good woman; that everything may be in rule,
I give my consent now, and most cheerfully."
"T'ankee, sah!" dropping a curtsey, and showing her teeth.
"Of course the ceremony was performed by our excellent rector, good Mr.
Hardinge?"
"Sartain, sah--no Clawbonny nigger t'ink he marry at all, 'less Masser
Hardinge bless him and say Amen. Ebberybody say 'e marriage is as good as
ole Masser and Missusses. Dis make two time Dido got married; and both
time good, lawful ceremunny, as ebber was. Oh! yes, sah!"
"And I hope your change of condition has proved to your mind, Dido, now
the thing is done. Old Cupid is no great matter in the way of beauty,
certainly; but he is an honest, sober fellow enough."
"Yes, sah, he _dat_, no one _can_ deny. Ah! Masser Mile, em 'ere
step-husband, after all, nebber jest like a body own husband! Cupid
_berry_ honest, and _berry_ sober; but he only step-husband; and _dat_ I
tell him twenty time already, I do t'ink, if trut' was said."
"Perhaps you have now said it often enough--twenty times are quite
sufficient to tell a man such a fact."
"Yes, sah," dropping another curtsey, "if Masser Mile please."
"I do please, and think you have told him _that_ often enough. If a man
won't learn a thing in twenty lessons, he is not worth the trouble of
teaching. So tell him he's a step-husband no more, but try something else.
I hope he makes Chloe a good father?"
"Lor', sah, he no Chloe's fadder, at all--_her_ fadder dead and gone, and
nebber come back. I want to say a word to young Masser, 'bout Chloe and
dat 'ere fellow, Neb--yes, sah."
"Well, what is it, Dido? I see they like each other, and suppose _they_
wish to get married, too. Is that the object of your visit? if so, I
consent without waiting to be asked. Neb will make no step-husband, I can
promise you."
"Don't be in a hurry, Masser Mile," said Dido, with an eagerness that
showed this ready consent was anything but what she wanted. "Dere many
'jection to Neb, when he ask to marry a young gal in Chloe sitiation. You
know, sah, Chloe now Miss Grace's own waitin'-maid. Nobody else help her
dress, or do anything in 'e young missus's room, dan Chloe, sheself--my
darter, Chloe Clawbonny!"
Here was a new turn given to the affair! It was "like master, like man."
Neb's love (or _lub_, for that was just the word, and just the idea, too)
was no more fated to run smooth than my own; and the same objection lay
against us both, viz., want of gentility! I determined to say a good word
for the poor fellow, however; while it would have been exceeding the usage
of the family to interfere in any other manner than by advice, in an
affair of the heart.
"If Chloe is my sister's favourite servant, Dido," I remarked, "you are to
remember that Neb is mine."
"Dat true, sah, and so Chloe say; but dere great difference, Masser Mile,
atween Clawbonny and a ship. Neb own, himself, young Masser, he doesn't
even lib in cabin, where you lib, sah."
"All that is true, Dido; but there is a difference of another sort between
a ship and a house. The house-servant may be more liked and trusted than
the out-door servant; but we think, at sea, it is more honourable to be a
foremast-hand than to be in the cabin, unless as an officer. I was a
foremast Jack some time, myself; and Neb is only in such a berth as his
master once filled."
"Dat a great deal--quite won'erful, sah--berry great deal, and more dan
Chloe can say, or I can wish her to say. But, sah, dey say now Neb has
save 'e young masser's life, young masser must gib him free-paper; and no
gal of mine shall ebber be free nigger's wife. No, sah; 'scuse me from dat
disgrace, which too much for fait'ful ole servant to bear!"
"I am afraid, Dido, Neb is the same way of thinking. I offered him his
freedom, the other day, and he refused to receive it. Times are changing
in this country; and it will be thought, soon, it is more creditable for a
black to be free, than to be any man's slave. The law means to free all
hands of you, one of these days."
"Nebber tell me dat, Masser Mile--dat day nebber come for me or mine; even
ole Cupid know better dan _dat_. Now, sah, Misser Van Blarcum's Brom want
to have Chloe, dreadful; but I nebber consent to sich a uner"--(Dido meant
union)--"nebber. Our family, sah, altogedder too good to marry in among
the Van Blarcums. Nebber has been, and never shall be uner atween 'em."
"I was not aware, Dido, that the Clawbonny slaves were so particular about
their connections."
"Won'erful particular, sah, and ebber hab been, and ebber will be. Don't
t'ink, Masser Mile, I marry ole Cupid, myself, if anoder prop'r connection
offer in 'e family; but I prefar him, to marry into any oder family
hereabout."
"Neb is Clawbonny, and my great friend; so I hope you will think better of
his suit. Some day Chloe may like to be free; and Neb will always have it
in his power to make his wife free, as well as himself."
"Sah, I t'ink, as you say, Masser Miles, sah--when I hab done t'inkin',
sah, hope young masser and young missus hear what ole cook got to say,
afore 'ey gives consent."
"Certainly; Chloe is your daughter, and she shall pay you all due
respect--for that, I will answer for my sister as well as for myself. We
will never encourage disrespect for parents."
Dido renewed and redoubled her thanks, made another profound curtsey, and
withdrew with a dignity that, I dare say, in Neb's and Chloe's eyes, boded
little good. As for myself, I now mused on the character of the things of
this world. Here were people of the very humblest class known in a
nation--nay, of a class sealed by nature itself, and doomed to
inferiority--just as tenacious of the very distinctions that were making
me so miserable, and against which certain persons, who are wiser than the
rest of the world, declaim without understanding them, and even go so far,
sometimes, as to deny their existence. My cook reasoned, in her sphere,
much as I knew that Rupert reasoned, as the Drewetts reasoned, as the
world reasoned, and, as I feared, even Lucy reasoned in my own case! The
return of Marble, who had left my side as soon as Dido opened her budget,
prevented my dwelling long on this strange--I had almost said,
uncouth--coincidence, and brought my mind back to present things.
"As the old woman has spun her yarn, Miles," the mate resumed, "we will go
on with matters and things. I have been talking with the mother of the
youngster that fell overboard, and giving her some advice for the benefit
of her son in time to come; and what do you think she gives as the reason
for the silly thing he did?"
"It is quite out of my power to say--that he was a silly fellow naturally,
perhaps."
"Love. It seems the poor boy is in love with this sweet friend of yours,
Rupert's sister; and it was nothing more nor less than love which made him
undertake to play rope-dancer on our main-boom!"
"Did Mrs. Drewett tell you this, with her own mouth, Marble?"
"That did she, Captain Wallingford; for, while you were discussing Neb and
Chloe with old Dido, we, that is, the doctor, the mother and myself, were
discussing Andrew and Lucy between ourselves. The good old lady gave me to
understand it was a settled thing, and that she looked on Miss Hardinge,
already, as a third daughter."
This was a strange subject for Mrs. Drewett to discuss with a man like
Marble, or even with Post; but some allowances were to be made for
Marble's manner of viewing his own connection with the dialogue, and more
for the excited condition of the mother's feelings. She was scarcely yet
in possession of all her faculties, and might very well commit an
indiscretion of this nature, more especially in her conversation with a
man in Post's position, overlooking or disregarding the presence of the
mate. The effect of all that had passed was to leave a strong impression
on my mind that I was too late. Lucy must be engaged, and waited only to
become of age, in order to make the settlements she intended in favour of
her brother, ere she was married. Her manner to myself was merely the
result of habit and sincere friendship; a little increased in interest and
gentleness, perhaps, on account of the grievous wrong she felt we had
received from Rupert. What right had I to complain, admitting all this to
be true? I had scarcely been aware of my own passion for the dear girl for
years, and had certainly never attempted to make her acquainted with it.
She had made me no pledges, plighted no faith, received no assurances of
attachment, was under no obligation to wait my pleasure. So sincere was my
affection for Lucy, that I rejoiced, even in my misery, when I remembered
that not the slightest imputation could be laid on her deportment, truth,
or frankness. On the whole, it was perhaps the more natural that she
should love Andrew Drewett, one she met for the first time after she
became of an age to submit to such impressions, than to love me, whom she
had been educated to treat with the familiarity and confidence of a
brother. Yes; I was even just enough to admit this.
The scene of the morning, and the presence of Mrs. Drewett and her
daughters, produced an entire change in the spirits and intercourse of our
party. The ladies remained below most of the time; and as for Drewett
himself, he was advised by Post not to quit his berth until he found his
strength restored. Mr. Hardinge passed much time by Andrew Drewett's side,
offering such attentions as might be proper from a father to a son. At
least it so seemed to me. This left Marble and myself in possession of the
quarter-deck, though we had occasional visits from all below--Grace, Lucy,
and old Mrs. Drewett, excepted.
In the mean time, the Wallingford continued to ascend the river, favoured
until evening by a light southerly breeze. She outsailed everything; and,
just as the sun was sinking behind the fine termination of the Cattskill
range of mountains, we were some miles above the outlet of the stream that
has lent it its name.
A lovelier landscape can scarce be imagined than that which presented
itself from the deck of the sloop. It was the first time I had ascended
the river, or indeed that any of the Clawbonny party had been up it so
high, Mr. Hardinge excepted; and everybody was called on deck to look at
the beauties of the hour. The sloop was about a mile above Hudson, and the
view was to be gazed at towards the south. This is perhaps the finest
reach of this very beautiful stream, though it is not the fashion to think
so; the Highlands being the part usually preferred. It is easy enough for
me, who have since lived among the sublimity of the Swiss and Italian
lakes, to understand that there is nothing of a very sublime character,
relatively considered, in any of the reaches of the Hudson; but it would
be difficult to find a river that has so much which is exquisitely
beautiful; and this, too, of a beauty which borders on the grand. Lucy was
the first person to create any doubts in my mind concerning the perfection
of the Highlands. Just as the cockney declaims about Richmond Hill--the
_inland_ view from Mont-Martre, of a clouded day, is worth twenty of
it--but just as the provincial London cockney declaims about Richmond
Hill, so has the provincial American been in the habit of singing the
praises of the Highlands of the Hudson. The last are sufficiently
striking, I will allow; but they are surpassed in their own kind by a
hundred known mountain landscapes; while the softer parts of the river
have scarcely a rival. Lucy, I repeat, was the first person to teach me
this distinction--Lucy, who then had never seen either Alps or Apennines.
But her eye was as true as her principles, her tongue, or her character.
All was truth about this dear girl--truth unadulterated and unalloyed.
"Certainly, my dear Mrs. Drewett," the dear girl said, as she stood
supporting the old lady, who leaned on her arm, gazing at the glorious
sunset, "the Highlands have nothing to equal this! To me this seems all
that art could achieve; while I confess the views in the mountains have
ever appeared to want something that the mind can imagine."
Mrs. Drewett, though a respectable, was a common-place woman. She belonged
to the vast class that do most of their thinking by proxy; and it was a
sort of heresy in her eyes to fancy anything could surpass the Highlands.
Poor Mrs. Drewett! She was exceedingly cockney, without having the
slightest suspicion of it. _Her_ best ought to be everybody else's best.
She combated Lucy's notion warmly, therefore, protesting that the
Highlands _could_ not have a superior. This is a sort of argument it is
not easy to overcome; and her companion was content to admire the scene
before her, in silence, after urging one or two reasons, in support of her
opinion, in her own quiet, unpretending manner.
I overheard this little argument, and was a close observer of the manner
of the parlies. Mrs. Drewett was extremely indulgent, even while warmest,
seeming to me to resist Lucy's opinion as an affectionate mother would
contend with the mistaken notions of a very favourite child. On the other
hand, Lucy appeared confiding, and spoke as the young of her sex are most
apt to do, when they utter their thoughts to ears they feel must be
indulgent.
A sunset cannot last for ever; and even this, sweet as it had been, soon
became tame and tasteless to me. As the ladies now disappeared, I
determined to anchor, the wind failing, and the tide coming ahead. Marble
and myself had a sort of state-room fitted up for us in the hold; and
thither I was glad to retire, standing really in need of rest, after the
terrible exertions of that day. What passed in the cabins that evening, I
had no opportunity of knowing, though I heard laughing, and happy female
voices, through the bulkheads, hours after my own head was on its pillow.
When Marble came down to turn in, he told me the cabin party had revived,
and that there had been much pleasant discourse among the young people;
and this in a way to cause even him to derive great satisfaction as
a listener.
Neb gave us a call at daylight. The wind was fresh at west-north-west,
but the tide was just beginning to run on the flood. I was so impatient to
be rid of my guests, that all hands were called immediately, and we got
the sloop under-way. The pilot professed himself willing to beat up
through the narrow passages above, and, the Wallingford's greatest
performance being on the wind, I was determined to achieve my deliverance
that very tide. The sloop drew more water than was usual for the up-river
craft, it is true, but she was light, and, just at the moment, could go
wherever the loaded Albany vessels went. Those were not the days of vast
public works; and as for sea-going craft, none had ever crossed the
Overslaugh, so far as had come to my knowledge. Times have changed
greatly, since; but the reader will remember I am writing of that remote
period in American history, the year of our Lord 1803.
The anchor was no sooner aweigh, than the deck became a scene of activity.
The breeze was stiff, and it enabled me to show the Wallingford off to
advantage among the dull, flat-bottomed craft of that day. There were
reaches in which the wind favoured us, too; and, by the time the ladies
reappeared, we were up among the islands, worming our way through the
narrow channels with rapidity and skill. To me, and to Marble also, the
scene was entirely novel; and between the activity that our evolutions
required, and the constant change of scene, we had little leisure to
attend to those in the cabin. Just as breakfast was announced, indeed, the
vessel was approaching the more difficult part of the river; and all we
got of that meal, we took on deck, at snatches, between the many tacks we
made. As good-luck would have it, however, the wind backed more to the
westward about eight o'clock; and we were enabled to stem the ebb that
began to make at the same time. This gave us the hope of reaching the end
of our passage without again anchoring.
At length we reached the Overslaugh, which, as was apt to be the case, was
well sprinkled with vessels aground. The pilot carried us through them
all, however; if not literally with flying colours, which would have been
regarded as an insult by the less fortunate, at least with complete
success. Then Albany came into view, leaning against its sharp acclivity,
and spreading over its extensive bottom-land. It was not the town it is
to-day, by quite three-fourths less in dwellings and people; but it was
then, as now, one of the most picturesque-looking places in America. There
is no better proof, in its way, how much more influence the talking and
writing part of mankind have than the mere actors, than is to be found in
the relative consideration of Albany, on the scale of appearance and
position, as compared with those enjoyed by a hundred other towns, more
especially in the Eastern States. Almost without a competitor, as to
beauty of situation, or at least on a level with Richmond and Burlington,
among the inland towns, it was usually esteemed a Dutch place that every
pretender was at liberty to deride, in my younger days. We are a people by
no means addicted to placing our candle under the bushel and yet I cannot
recall a single civil expression in any native writer touching the
beauties of Albany. It may have been owing to the circumstance that so
much of the town was under the hill at the beginning of the century, and
that strangers had few opportunities of seeing it to advantage; but I
rather think its want of the Anglo-Saxon origin was the principal reason
it was so little in favour.
Glad enough was I to reach the wharves, with their line of storehouses,
that then literally spouted wheat into the sloops that crowded the quays,
on its way to feed the contending armies of Europe. Late as it was in the
season, wheat was still pouring outward through all the channels of the
country, enriching the farmers with prices that frequently rose as high as
two dollars and a half the bushel, and sometimes as high as three. Yet no
one was so poor in America as to want bread! The dearer the grain, the
higher the wages of the labourer, and the better he lived.
It was not at all late when the Wallingford was slowly approaching the
wharf where it was intended to bring-up. There was a sloop ahead of us,
which we had been gradually approaching for the last two hours, but which
was enabled to keep in advance in consequence of the lightness of the
wind. This dying away of the breeze rendered the approaching noon-tide
calm and pleasant; and everybody in-board, even to Grace, came on deck, as
we moved slowly past the dwellings on the eastern bank, in order to get a
view of the town. I proposed that the Clawbonny party should land,
contrary to our original intention, and profit by the opportunity to see
the political capital of the State at our leisure. Both Grace and Lucy
were inclined to listen favourably; and the Drewetts, Andrew and his
sisters, were delighted at this prospect of our remaining together a
little longer. Just at this moment, the Wallingford, true to her
character, was coming up with the sloop ahead, and was already doubling on
her quarter. I was giving some orders, when Lucy and Chloe, supporting
Grace, passed me on their way to the cabin. My poor sister was pale as
death, and I could see that she trembled so much she could hardly walk. A
significant glance from Lucy bade me not to interfere, and I hid
sufficient self-command to obey. I turned to look at the neighbouring
sloop, and found at once an explanation of my sister's agitation. The
Mertons and Rupert were on her quarter-deck, and so near as to render it
impossible to avoid speaking, at least to the former. At this embarrassing
instant Lucy returned to my side, with a view, as I afterwards learned, to
urge me to carry the Wallingford to some place so distant, as to remove
the danger of any intercourse. This accident rendered the precaution
useless, the whole party in the other vessel catching sight of my
companion at the same moment.
"This is an agreeable surprise!" called out Emily, in whose eyes Rupert's
sister could not be an object of indifference. "By your brother's and Mrs.
Drewett's account, we had supposed you at Clawbonny, by the bed-side of
Miss Wallingford."
"Miss Wallingford is here, as are my father, and Mrs. Drewett, and--"
Lucy never let it be known who that other "and" was intended to include.
"Well, this is altogether surprising!" put in Rupert, with a steadiness of
voice that really astounded me. "At the very moment we were giving you
lots of credit for your constancy in friendship, and all that sort of
thing, here you are, Mademoiselle Lucie, trotting off to the Springs, like
all the rest of us, bent on pleasure."
"No, Rupert," answered Lucy, in a tone which I thought could not fail to
bring the heartless coxcomb to some sense of the feeling he ought to
manifest; "I am going to no Springs. Dr. Post has advised a change of
scene and air for Grace; and Miles has brought us all up in his sloop,
that we may endeavour to contribute to the dear sufferer's comfort, in one
united family. We shall not land in Albany."
I took my cue from these last words, and understood that I was not even to
bring the sloop alongside the wharf.
"Upon my word, it is just as she says, Colonel!" cried Rupert. "I can see
my father on the forecastle, with Post, and divers others of my
acquaintance. Ay--and there's Drewett, as I live! Wallingford, too! How
fare you, noble captain, up in this fresh-water stream? You must be
strangely out of your latitude."
"How do you do, Mr. Hardinge?" I coldly returned the salutation; and then
I was obliged to speak to the Major and his daughter. But Neb was at the
helm, and I had given him a sign to sheer further from our companion. This
soon reduced the intercourse to a few wavings of handkerchiefs, and
kissings of the hand, in which all the Drewetts came in for a share. As
for Lucy, she walked aside, and I seized the occasion to get a word
in private.
"What am I to do with the sloop?" I asked. "It will soon be necessary to
come to some decision."
"By no means go to the wharf. Oh! this has been most cruel. The
cabin-windows are open, and Grace _must_ have heard every syllable. Not
even a question as to her health! I dread to go below and witness
the effect."
I wished not to speak of Rupert to his sister, and avoided the subject.
The question, therefore, was simply repeated. Lucy inquired if it were not
possible to land our passengers without bringing-up, and, hearing the
truth on the subject, she renewed her entreaties not to land. Room was
taken accordingly, and the sloop, as soon as high enough, was rounded-to,
and the boat lowered. The portmanteau of Post was placed in it, and the
Drewetts were told that everything was ready to put them ashore.
"Surely we are not to part thus!" exclaimed the old lady. "You intend to
land, Lucy, if not to accompany us to Ballston? The waters might prove of
service to Miss Wallingford."
"Dr. Post thinks not, but advises us to return tranquilly down the river.
We may yet go as far as Sandy Hook, or even into the Sound. It all depends
on dear Grace's strength and inclinations."
Protestations of regret and disappointment followed, for everybody
appeared to think much of Lucy, and very little of my poor sister. Some
attempts were even made at persuasion; but the quiet firmness of Lucy soon
convinced her friends that she was not to be diverted from her purpose.
Mr. Hardinge, too, had a word to say in confirmation of his daughter's
decision; and the travellers reluctantly prepared to enter the boat. After
he had assisted his mother over the sloop's side, Andrew Drewett turned to
me, and in fair, gentleman-like, manly language, expressed his sense of the
service I had rendered him. After this acknowledgment, the first he had
made, I could do no less than shake his hand; and we parted in the manner
of those who have conferred and received a favour.
I could perceive that Lucy's colour heightened, and that she looked
exceedingly gratified, while this little scene was in the course of being
acted, though I was unable to comprehend the precise feeling that was
predominant in her honest and truthful heart. Did that increased colour
proceed from pleasure at the handsome manner in which Drewett acquitted
himself of one of the most embarrassing of all our duties--the admission
of a deep obligation? or was it in any manner connected with her interest
in me? I could not ask, and of course did not learn. This scene, however,
terminated our intercourse with the Drewetts, for the moment; the boat
pulling away immediately after.