CAPTAIN BARBARA’S FIRST VOYAGE.
“How gloriously her gallant course she goes!
Her white wings flying—never from her foes;
She walks the waters like a thing of life,
And seems to dare the elements to strife.
Who would not brave the ocean storm, the wreck,
To move the monarch of her bounding deck!”—_Byron._
Early the next morning, Lord Montressor went down to the wharf to
inquire for the Petrel.
A trim, tight-looking little clipper, standing a cable’s length down the
river, was pointed out to him.
He called a boat, got into it, and directed to be rowed to the Petrel.
On arriving alongside the vessel, Lord Montressor found himself in the
midst of a busy scene. Many other boats, heavily laden, were around the
clipper, the crew of which, seeming to consist of four negroes, were
engaged in taking in freight.
Lord Montressor directed his boat to be pulled up to the starboard
gangway, and forthwith went on board, where, besides the four black
sailors, who were engaged in hauling up heavy bales from the boats on
the larboard, he found two manly boys of about ten and twelve standing
on the deck.
“Can you direct me to the Captain?” asked Lord Montressor.
The darkies suspended their labors for an instant to look at each other
and grin.
“The Captain, my good fellows—the Captain—where is he?” again asked Lord
Montressor, thinking they had not understood the first question.
“The gentleman asks for the Captin! My eyes, Sam! I reckon he’s bound
for Point No-Point,” said one of the men; and all, negro-like, slackened
their ropes and left off work, to gaze, grin, or gossip, as opportunity
might offer.
But before Lord Montressor had time to reiterate his question, he was
startled by a clear, ringing, sonorous voice, shouting:
“Ahoy there! What are you about men! look alive! look alive! bear a
hand! bear a hand! so——!”
The men laid themselves with a good-will to their ropes, and the heavy
bales and boxes soon swung between the boats below and the bulwarks
above.
Lord Montressor turned to ascertain whence the cheery voice came; and he
saw, standing upon the deck, with a small speaking-trumpet in her white
hand, a tall, handsome young woman, with a finely developed form,
broadly-expanded chest, frank, resolute countenance, shining black hair,
and flashing black eyes. Her dress and hood of coarse grey serge could
not disguise her singular beauty.
“So——That’s it! Haul hearty! cheerly boys!—cheerly!—so——!” called the
same animating voice, as the men hoisted in the freight.
Then she lowered the little speaking-trumpet, and advanced to receive
Lord Montressor, who was going toward her.
“Some sister, or daughter, or perhaps wife of the skipper, doing duty in
his absence. Some shore-mate acting as shipmate—a very piquante
position, upon my word!” thought Lord Montressor, as he paused before
the young Amazon, and lifted his hat.
“How do you do, sir? Have you any business with me?” asked Barbara. The
tone was frank, short, decided, almost abrupt.
“I have business with the skipper, if you will be so kind as to direct
me where to find him, young lady.”
“Ah! you wish to see Brande, Master?”
“Yes, Madam.”
“Here he is, then,” said Barbara, laying her hand proudly and fondly on
the head of the elder boy, who stood at her side.
Lord Montressor looked surprised and perplexed.
“Excuse me, Madam, did I understand you to say——”
“That this lad is Brande—Master? Yes, sir! The vessel belongs to him and
his brother, and sails under his name. But until he attains his majority
and acquires a competent knowledge of navigation and seamanship, I, his
sister, am Acting Master. I am the responsible person here, sir, if you
have business with the ship. (Ahoy, there! Bob! man the long-boat and go
on shore to bring off those bales.) Now I am ready to listen to you,
sir.”
“Excuse me, Madam! but expecting to find Captain Brande to treat with, I
came on board hoping to be able to secure a passage to the West Indies
for myself and men.”
“Who are you, sir?” The question was frank, direct, and abrupt like all
her talk.
“Pardon me, I should have anticipated your question; I am the Viscount
Montressor.”
“And how many men have you, sir?”
“Two—a valet and a groom.”
“Well, sir, I know of no reason why you should not find a berth here. We
are prepared to accommodate a limited number of passengers. (Look alive
there, boys!) We sail on the first of October, sir, wind and tide
favoring, and shall be glad of your company.”
Here was a dilemma!
Lord Montressor was, of course, far too high bred to _express_ his
surprise, perplexity and doubt, and he was also too self-possessed to
_betray_ those emotions to any creature less quick-sighted and
penetrating than the Amazon before him.
As it was, Barbara saw and understood the utmost extent of his
amazement, hesitation, and curiosity—perhaps it piqued her, for she
suddenly exclaimed—
“Well, sir! since you have come on business, bring it to a conclusion.
Question me, sir. Question me, sir. I had far rather be questioned by a
gentleman, than see him stand silent before me, suffering the pangs of
suppressed curiosity!”
The blood rushed to Lord Montressor’s brow, and half in displeasure,
half in amusement, he replied—
“I regret very much that I have such a tell-tale countenance—but I am
sure you will pardon me for the involuntary betrayal of the surprise I
felt, at finding so young and handsome a woman, in so novel a position.”
Barbara bowed—lowly, and perhaps ironically.
“You arraign me, sir! if not in words, yet in thought. I am put upon my
defense. Come, sir! read the indictment—let me hear wherein I have
broken the laws of God or man.”
(“What a termagant!” thought Lord Montressor; but he said)—
“Nay, indeed, Miss Brande, I arraign you not—I simply _wonder_—begging
pardon, for even so much.”
(“He thinks I am a vixen,” said Barbara to herself; then aloud)—
“There is no need of wonder, sir. It is all very simple. I am left
guardian to two boy brothers, whom I am to support, and to bring up to
self-support. I chose the means best fitted to the end.”
“But might not some more—I beg pardon, I grow impertinent.”
“Not so, since I have challenged examination, sir!—you were about to
inquire——?”
“Whether some more proper feminine occupation might not have been
found?”
“I thought so! there it is again! What, precisely, do you call proper
feminine occupation?—sewing? teaching? acting? keeping boarders? selling
goods?” Barbara drew a long and deep inspiration, that seemed to relieve
her breast of the weight of these thoughts, and resumed—“No, sir—these
may all be sufficiently feminine, but they require certain
qualifications in which, happily or unhappily, I am deficient; they also
involve confinement, subordination, and patronage—which my soul could
not, for an instant, brook! For I am born to freedom, independence, and
domination!”
“Yet, methinks all these are not incompatible with the life of a
hostess, a teacher, or a shopkeeper.”
Barbara laughed scornfully.
“Yes, Miss Brande, it does suggest itself to me that a sufficiency of
freedom, independence and domination might be found in a house of your
own, a school of your own, or a shop of your own.”
“And still more in a SHIP of my own!” cried Barbara—her black eyes
flashing in triumph and exultation.
Lord Montressor regarded the handsome Amazon, with an expression half of
admiration, half of wonder. She continued—
“No, sir, I am unfitted by nature and education to spend my life in
pouring out coffee for old bachelors, pointing out A, B, C’s to little
children, or pulling down goods for idle lady-shoppers. And on the other
hand—I am prepared both by constitution and culture for my present
vocation. Like all the men and women of my house, I love the sea; from
four years old to fourteen, I sailed with my father, who taught me
navigation and seamanship, which I, with my ardent attractions to the
subject, learned much more readily and thoroughly, than many a dull or
unwilling cadet of the Naval schools has done. So being prepared for it,
driven toward it, and attracted by it, I enter my sea life. No, Lord
Montressor, there is something in my blood and in my circumstances, that
could not brook the quiet land life you have cut out for me! no more
than the majority of women could bear the life into which I rush with
enthusiasm. Be it so! every one to the bent of their own taste and
talent. Such I take to be God’s order.”
“I have nothing more to say, Miss Brande, except this: Taking it for
granted that you are, as you say, well fitted for your position; still,
are you _safe_? In exigencies that may arise, when life may depend upon
discipline, will your crew obey you?”
Barbara smiled proudly and confidently. “Lord Montressor! you are,
doubtless, a better student in history than myself! Have you noticed in
your reading, that whenever the reins of government have fallen into the
hands of woman, they have been less successful than men in enforcing
their authority and putting down revolt? Did England’s magnificent
Elizabeth ever quail before her ministers, or her people, or fail to
enforce her own royal will?—or Russia’s terrific Catherine, blench in
the bloodiest scenes of her time? There are such Elizabeths and
Catherines at the present day, and in the humblest walks of life, sir.”
Lord Montressor bowed, and Barbara continued—
“As for my crew, I have the means of compelling them to obedience.”
His lordship looked incredulous.
“There are but eight souls in all of this ship’s company—first, there is
myself, Acting Master, and my black maid—then come my two brothers, who
are devoted to their sister; then my two negroes, who will obey me as
only old family servants, who have watched over me on land and sea, from
childhood to womanhood, would do; and, lastly, there are two enlisted
men—one of whom is an old seaman, who sailed often with my father, and
is perfectly reliable; and the other is a young fellow whose countenance
is a letter of recommendation, if he had no other—as he has. So that you
see, sir, I have not an insubordinate or dangerous character on board.”
“I see you have exercised judgment in the selection of your hands.”
“With all this, sir, you may not feel sufficient confidence in my
competency for the post I have assumed, to trust your valuable life with
us for the voyage. Nevertheless, sir, Messrs. Gobright & Co., Merchants
on Light street—men who are not suspected of lunacy, have entrusted me
with a very valuable cargo.”
Lord Montressor bowed absently; his thoughts had reverted to one far
away.
“Am I to understand that you decline a berth with us, sir?” inquired
Barbara.
This brought his lordship to the point.
“Certainly not, Miss Brande. Upon all accounts, I would not forego this
opportunity—no, not for a seat in his majesty’s cabinet.”
“Come, then, into the cabin and let us arrange the terms—come you, also,
Willful! you must learn to transact business,” said Barbara, beckoning
Lord Montressor and her brother to follow.
They went below, and the terms—where one party was willing and the other
anxious—were soon concluded to their mutual satisfaction.
It was near sunset when Lord Montressor left the vessel for the shore,
to return to his hotel.
He employed the succeeding days of the week in writing letters to
England, and in preparations for his voyage.
Was it strange that, in his conversations with Barbara, he should never
once have mentioned or even remotely alluded to the object of his
voyage? We think not; for the subject of his lost Estelle was too sacred
to be approached, except under urgent necessity, or in the hope of
obtaining direct information. And what necessity did there seem to be
for taking Barbara into his confidence? what information could he
suppose her able to give? or what connection could he possibly imagine
to exist between his delicate and reserved Estelle and this brave
daughter of the sea? In fact, he never once thought of such a
possibility. And yet, had he once broached the subject, how soon Barbara
could have told him that Mrs. Estelle had sailed, not for the West India
Isles as he supposed, but for a much nearer point, namely, Brande’s
Headland, a hundred miles or so down the bay.
So full is life of mere paper walls!
It was a fine frosty morning, the first of October, when the Petrel was
to sail. A fresh wind that had sprung up during the night was blowing
from the north-west. At daybreak Lord Montressor entered a hack to drive
down to the wharf. His valet and groom followed, with the baggage on a
dray. A ride of an hour brought them to the scene of embarkation. The
wharves presented a busy, animating appearance. The harbor was crowded
with shipping, whose tall masts, yards, and ropes were distinctly traced
upon the background of a clear blue sky. But the Petrel stood off at
anchor, some cables’ length down the river. And to reach her, it was
necessary to hire one of the many boats that glided in and out among the
vessels.
Lord Montressor signalled his groom from the top of his dray, and
dispatched him to engage one.
The man soon effected this purpose; and a large, substantial boat, roomy
enough to accommodate Lord Montressor, his attendants and his baggage,
was rowed up close alongside the wharf upon which they stood. The trunks
were first lowered into the boat, then Lord Montressor, followed by his
valet and his groom, entered and seated himself in the stern. The four
sailors laid themselves to their oars, and the boat flew over the water.
In a few minutes they were alongside the Petrel which, in her neatest
trim, was preparing to get under way. They pulled around to the
starboard gangway, where Lord Montressor went immediately up the ladder
and stood upon the deck.
In truth, the vessel presented an animating spectacle. Some of the men
were busy with the ropes, others with the windlass. The eldest boy was
at the tiller.
But most conspicuous upon the deck stood the handsome Amazon, Barbara
Brande, in her strong, grey serge dress, but bareheaded, with the fresh
wind making free with her blackest of tresses, and flushing with a
deeper crimson her sun-burned cheeks. She stood there self-possessed and
giving orders in her own clear, ringing, decided tones.
Seeing Lord Montressor, she immediately came forward to meet him,
saying, in her high, cheerful voice:
“Welcome, sir! you are just in time. We shall be under way in half an
hour. You know where to find your quarters, sir. Will you go below,
or——”
“I will remain on deck, if you please, Miss Brande,” said his lordship,
who was not a little curious and interested to see how this girl would
proceed to get her vessel under sail—feeling doubtful, also, of the
sound discretion of embarking his life on such a venture.
“Very well, sir! as you please.”
And Barbara left him and went forward.
“Ahoy, there, Willful! see to getting Lord Montressor’s baggage up.”
The lad left the tiller to obey. The hoisting of the trunks occupied but
a few minutes; the stowing them but a few more.
The deck being then clear again, Barbara went forward to give orders,
which she did in short, firm, resonant tones, that must have startled a
stranger less prepared for them than Lord Montressor.
“All hands up anchor! Each man to his post!—and you, Willful, to the
helm!”
The orders were obeyed with alacrity.
“Man the windlass.”
The four sailors came forward and laid themselves to the bars.
“Heave! heave hearty, my men! And you, Edwy, play up, my boy!”
This last order was given to the younger lad, who raised the fife he
held in his hand and began to play a lively inspiring air, while the men
with all their strength heaved at the windlass. The anchor was soon
apeak, and hauled up to the side of the vessel, catted and fished.
“Quick! now, my men!—haul in the larboard braces forward!—haul home the
starboard braces abaft!” shouted Barbara.
It was done.
“Stand by to set the tops’il! Man the lee sheet! Ease down the buntlines
and lee clew-line! Haul home the lee sheet! Now then, hoist away!
Cheerly, boys—cheerly! Brace all taut!”
The tops’il thus set, the vessel moved slowly before the wind, bearing
down toward a schooner that was coming in, on the lee side.
Barbara shouted—
“You, Willful! what are you about there? Port the helm! Keep her clear
of that schooner ahead! So—steady—nothing off!”
The lad understanding the risk, exerted himself until all danger of
collision was past.
“Set the jib!—there!—Hoist the mains’il!—Brace
round—there—there!—Stand by to haul out the mizzen!—And you, Willful,
helm-a-lee!—so!—steady—stead-y!”
The sails now filled with the wind, the craft moved swiftly onward. But
Barbara thought that she could carry more canvas. She gave the order—
“Stand by to hoist the to’-gallant-s’il!”
The men worked heartily. And the vessel, now under as much sail as she
could safely carry, ran before the wind, and passing between the North
Point and the Bodkin, stood gallantly out to sea.
Barbara drew a long breath, and came aft to speak to her passenger. Her
cheeks were beautifully flushed, her eyes were sparkling, and her black
hair, in that short ripple that indicates great vigor of constitution,
was floating freely in the breeze. She seemed in no wise “breathed” by
her late exertions. Lord Montressor, as he looked at her, thought he had
never in his life seen a finer woman.
“We have the prospect of a pleasant voyage, sir,” she said. “With us,
the prevailing winds are, at this season, from the North West; we shall
probably sail before a fair wind the whole way. Neither, this month, is
there much chance of a thunder storm.”
Lord Montressor bowed. “That is an agreeable hearing, Miss Brande; but
do you not stop at any port on your voyage out?”
“At no port, sir; but I shall cast anchor for a few hours at the
Headland—my old home, sir, where I shall have to go ashore, to settle
some final business with the young widow lady who has leased it of me.
And if you shall be disposed to accompany me there, sir, I can show you
one of the oldest houses in Maryland—a house that was built in the year
1635.”
“And when shall we reach this Headland?”
“With this fair wind, in six or seven days, sir.”
Now what fatality was it, that prevented Lord Montressor from finding
out the name of “the young widow lady” who had leased Barbara Brande’s
house?—or from at once accepting her invitation, when they should reach
the Headland, to go on shore and look at the house? That life is full of
blindly missed possibilities, is the only answer I can find.
They continued talking much longer; Lord Montressor growing every moment
more pleased with his acquaintance; for there was a frankness, a
directness, an uprightness and a _down_rightness about Barbara Brande,
that commanded respect.
“Excuse me now, sir,” she said, at last, “I must go and relieve my young
helmsman; he is tired, I know,” and going forward, she took the tiller
from the hand of the boy and sent him away.
They had, as Barbara predicted, a very quick and pleasant run down the
Bay; and on the morning of the eighth day, at sunrise, anchored off the
Headland.
Lord Montressor came on deck, where he found Barbara giving her orders.
On seeing him she came aft.
“Good-morning, sir! You are out early! We have just cast anchor. We
shall lie here all day. Look, sir! there is my dear, old home.”
Lord Montressor looked across the water to the dark Headland that,
crested with its old forest trees, loomed to leeward. The sun, rising
behind the shore, threw the whole place into the deepest
shadow—altogether it presented a gloomy, weird, and forbidding aspect.
“It is very picturesque,” said Lord Montressor.
“Yes!—and very interesting in some of its features. They are getting
ready the boat for me to go on shore. I should be happy to have you
over, if you would like to accompany me.”
“I thank you, Miss Brande—if you or your tenant will give me the
privilege of a day’s shooting in your woods, I shall be pleased to go on
shore,” said Lord Montressor, bowing.
“Oh, sir! We have no game laws or preserves here! Our game is as free as
it is abundant—our woods as open as they are extensive. I am very glad
that you should be able to amuse yourself for a day. There are also
stanch pointers at the Headland, and old Neptune who has them in charge
will be as good a guide as any gamekeeper in England,” said Barbara.
Lord Montressor expressed his thanks.
“And now, my lord, let us to breakfast; and then to the boats.”
Lord Montressor first went below to order his groom to get out his
fowling-piece, powder-flask, shot-pouch, game-bag, etc., and then
followed Barbara into the cabin, where the early morning meal was
spread.
After breakfast, leaving Willful and two sailors in charge of the
vessel, Barbara, her younger brother, Lord Montressor, and his groom
entered the boat and were rowed rapidly toward the Headland. On reaching
the beach Barbara said—
“Will you go up to the house, sir?”
“No, I thank you very much, Miss Brande; I think not,” replied his
lordship, feeling unwilling to intrude upon the unknown Lady, who was
Barbara’s tenant.
“Then—come hither, Edwy! attend Lord Montressor to Uncle Nep’s quarter.
Tell the old man to take the dogs, and show his lordship where to find
the birds,” said Barbara.
Edwy came forward and bowed, expressing his readiness.
And with a mutual “good-morning,” the parties separated—Barbara Brande
going up to the house, while Lord Montressor and his companions sought
the woods.