TITE TAKES HIS DEPARTURE FOR THE SOUTH SEA.
High above all this hypocrisy, this intrigue, this selfishness and
dissimulation, there was something more pure and good. It was love, pure
and simple, binding the thoughts and hearts of Mattie Chapman and young
Tite. That love which forgets everything else in its truth and purity,
had been gently binding their young affections together. And now nothing
could separate them.
What sweet joys and touching sorrows are mingled with the wonderful
history of love. How surely it marks its objects. It seeks its most
precious captive in the strongest and bravest of hearts. Love has
dethroned kings, built up empires, set great nations at war, and made
statesmen weep with sorrow. Yea, it has made the mightiest to unbend,
and brought them bowing before its altar. It holds its capricious empire
in every heart, prompts our ambition, guides and governs our actions,
makes us heroes or cowards, and carries us hoping through the world.
It was love, then, that was holding its court on the occasion I am about
to describe. It was one of those bright and breezy spring mornings, when
Nature seems to have decked herself in her brightest colors, giving such
a charm to the banks of the Hudson. The young, fresh leaves were out,
and looking so green and crisp. The leak and the moss were creeping
afresh over the rocks; wild flowers were budding and blossoming, and
giving their sweet odors to the wind; birds were singing their touching
songs; brooks rippled and murmured their mysterious music; and all
Nature was indeed putting forth her beauties in one grand, sweet,
soul-stirring harmony.
How I envy the being who, free from the cares of the world, can elevate
his soul by holding sweet communion with nature, at spring time. Earth
has nothing so pure as the thoughts inspired by such sweet communion
with the buds, the blossoms, and the flowers of spring.
It was one of these soft, breezy mornings in early spring, I have said,
that Mattie and Tite sat together in a little clump of woods, where the
branches formed a sort of bower overhead, and overlooking the Tappan
Zee. Every few minutes Tite would get up, advance to a point commanding
a view of the river above, and gaze intently in that direction, as if
expecting some object of interest.
"She is not in sight yet, Mattie," he said, as he returned after one of
these intervals. "But she will be down to-day, I know she will, and then
we must part. Think of me when I am away, and I will think of you. Yes,
Mattie, I am only a sailor now, but I shall see the world, and that's
what I want, because it will make me something better. It will be three
years before we meet again; three long, long years. But I will think of
you and dream of you through all that time. And I will be so happy when
the day of our meeting comes. Be good to my mother and father while I am
gone. Be good to them for my sake. You will, won't you, Mattie?"
Mattie's blue eyes filled with tears, the wind tossed her golden curls
over her fair neck and shoulders, and there was something so tender and
touching in the picture of these young lovers. "I have made you a
solemn promise, Tite," she replied, in broken accents. "That promise
shall be kept sacred. I shall think of you, and pray for you. Your
parents shall be my parents. I will count the days until you return."
She paused for a moment and wiped her eyes. "Neither storm nor tempest
shall trouble you, Tite, for I will follow you with my prayers that God
may carry you safe through all dangers, and bring you safe back to us.
But, Tite, take this advice from me. Do all you can for yourself. Rise
as high as you can; make all the money you can; and don't forget what we
may come to be. People who get money, and take care of it, are sure to
rise in the world. People that don't get money never do. But, God bless
you, Tite; think of me and I'll think of you." This advice to the young
sailor to make all the money he could, and given on the eve of
departure, may seem out of place to some of my romantic readers; but it
was, perhaps, the best Mattie could have given him. She was a girl of
strong affections, and it was only natural that she should have
something of the propensity so strong in both her parents. But beyond
and above this there was something frank and generous, something of real
good in her nature. Young as she was, she saw in Tite's courage and
ambition traits of character that promised well for the future. This
made her forget that which was so objectionable to her mother--that he
was only the son of common Dutch people.
Tite had been looking for the object of his anxiety several minutes,
when, turning toward Mattie, he exclaimed: "Here she comes! here she
comes!" and they kissed and took an affectionate farewell, each
hastening to their homes. The object he had watched for so intently was
the ship Pacific, belonging to the Hudson Company's fleet of whale
ships, and bound on a voyage to the South Sea, as it was called in those
days. There was something grand and imposing about this fine old ship as
she moved majestically down the stream, her starboard tacks aboard, the
breeze filling her sails so nicely, for she had her royals set. Then her
new, white canvas contrasted so strikingly with the green hills that yet
shut her hull from view. Who could tell what might befall her in the
eventful voyage she was bound on?
A few minutes more and she braced her yards sharp and rounded the point,
and stood on her way down the Tappan Zee. Every outline of her hull now
came clearer and clearer. There were her heavy quarter-davits, her
hoisting gear, and whale-killing gear; her long, sharp boats, lashed so
carefully, some to her davits, others athwart her quarter-deck frames;
and about all of which there was a mysterious interest. These whale
ships were at that day an object of distrust in the minds of the honest
Dutchmen along the banks of the Hudson, who never saw them go to sea
without shaking their heads and predicting all sorts of disasters, such
as would be sure to bring ruin on the men unwise enough to risk their
money in such enterprises.
As the ship neared Nyack a group of ten or a dozen persons were seen
near the landing, with a boat and two men to take Tite off. There was
Hanz, old and grey; and Angeline, her eyes filled with tears, but her
face as full of sweetness and tenderness as it was twenty years ago.
Tite had been the joy and hope of her life. And now he was going to
leave home and sail to the other side of the world, among strange
people, and would have to brave dangers of the worst kind.
[Illustration: Who could tell what might befall her in the eventful
voyage she was bound on? Page 60]
There, too, was Doctor Critchel, and the good Dominie, and Titus Bright,
the inn-keeper; the first wearing his old brown coat, and looking as
snuffy as on the stormy night when he assisted in bringing Tite into the
world. They had all come to see Tite off, to say God speed, and to give
him some little token of their affection to carry with him on his voyage
after whales.
And now that time which so tries a mother's heart had come. "Good bye,
mother, good bye, and may God be with you and protect you," said Tite,
throwing his arms around his mother's neck, and kissing her wet cheek.
"I will come back safe, and never go to sea again." Then he took leave
of his father, and each of his friends in turn. In another minute the
boat in which he stood waving his handkerchief was pulling swiftly
toward the ship. There was not a dry eye in that little group as each
figure in it stood gazing out upon the calm waters, and watching the
object so dear to the hearts of all in it. And now the boat has reached
the ship, men are seen in the gangway, a line was thrown to the men in
the boat, the ship luffed a little, and in another moment Tite mounted
the ladder and was on deck. The first officer welcomed him, for there
was something in his appearance that indicated respectability and true
character; and his ship-mates gathered about him, each giving him a warm
shake of the hand and a friendly word. Then the good ship moved
gallantly down the stream, and Tite appeared on the forecastle, and
waved adieus until she disappeared among the green hills of the
Palisades.
There was a heart that fluttered, and a hand that waved signals, from a
point on the shore recognized by Tite, and responded to, but not seen by
the little sorrowing group waiting the return of the boat. It was
Mattie's heart that fluttered, and it was her hand that waved the last
adieu as the ship passed out of sight. There she stood, a touching
picture of truth and love, shedding her tears and waving a last farewell
to the object of her heart, and whom she might never see again.
Such are the transmutations of commerce that it would be a curious sight
at this day to see a whaleship, under full sail, proceeding up or down
the Hudson river. It was no uncommon sight then. The enterprising people
of Hudson shared the whale-fishery business with New Bedford and
Nantucket; their fleet of ships were fitted out in the very best manner,
and some of the most famous whaling captains sailed from that port.