"Some of my family are Royalists, though some of them are in opposition,
and are what you, I fear, would call rebels. I do not like the word."
"Nor do I," I answered warmly. "Though I am a naval officer, and
fighting is my vocation, I wish that this dispute were settled. I would
rather have any other enemies than those we are now fighting with."
"I am glad to hear you utter that sentiment, sir," said Mrs Tarleton,
who had overheard the last part of our conversation, as she continued
her never-ceasing walk on deck. "Cherish it, for it may produce
wholesome fruit in time to come."
The wind held fair, and with the prize in tow, and the Lady Parker,
which could easily keep up with us in company, we steered a direct
course for the then small town of Newport, off which I hoped to find the
admiral. After the conversation I have described above, the ice in Mrs
Tarleton's manner gradually thawed. She began to regard me with some
degree of interest, and to look on me simply as a misguided young man
whom she might hope to win over to the cause to which she herself was so
warmly attached. I certainly did my best to obtain her good opinion, as
well as that of her niece, and I felt that at all events I was winning
that of the latter.
Delightful and strange were the sensations I experienced as I leaned
over the bulwarks by the side of that lovely girl, while we watched the
blue sparkling wavelets, and I told her of the wonders of the deep, and
now and then threw in a description of some of the adventures I had gone
through. It was, I repeat, fortunate for me that she was at heart a
loyalist, or she would inevitably just then have converted me to
whatever opinions she held. We watched the glorious sun descend into
his ocean bed in a golden radiance which suffused the whole western sky;
and then the pale moon arose, and we stayed to gaze on its silvery beams
as they played over the calm waters of the ocean, just crisped into
wavelets by the light easterly breeze which blew us on our way. It was
very delightful. We were both of us very young, and very
unsophisticated. I had scarcely ever spoken to a young lady. The last
I had seen, and the impression she had made was not deep, was Miss
Deborah Doulass, the fair daughter of a retired linen-draper at
Falmouth. The Poynders are in no way a phlegmatic race. The young lady
was not backward in appreciating my sentiments, and we might very
probably have stood gazing at the ocean till the moon had gone to bed
also, when Miss Carlyon was summoned somewhat hastily by her aunt. She
put out her hand, and as I pressed it I felt as if an electric shock had
run through me. The elder lady drew her shawl round her, and, bowing
stiffly, they retired one after the other down the companion-ladder.
I walked the deck for some time, all sorts of new sensations jumping
away round my heart and in my head, and then I turned into the temporary
berth I had had rigged for myself in the hold, ordering Tom Rockets to
keep a sharp look-out, and to call me the moment he suspected even that
anything, however trifling, was going wrong. Close to my berth, and
divided only by a thin bulk-head, was the place where the prisoners were
sleeping. They were all snoring away when I turned in, but after a time
I heard one of them give some grunts.
"Peter," said a voice. "Peter, are you awake, man?"