*Ossario*. Stand, ho! Who are you?
*Antonio*. We are true men, sir.
*Ossario*. True men, give the word--and pass.
_Old Play_.
*Walter*. Only a pleasant jest, I do assure you.
_The borry Joke_.
When the two men descended the ravine leading to the shore, the sun was
half an hour above the horizon. Before they left the mouth of the
ravine, they dismounted, at the suggestion of Captain Marston, and
fastened their horses to the drooping branches of a tree which grew by
the side of the road. The animals were, in this situation, out of sight
of the place of rendezvous. The companions having thus made their
horses secure, advanced to the shore.
The novelist, and even the poet, could find no lovelier locality, ready
created for the scenes of fancied grief and pleasures, than that
contained within lines embracing Saint Leonard's Creek and its immediate
adjuncts. Not only is the stream itself--especially in the fair expanse
near its junction with the river, which is now supposed to lie glowing
and dimpling in the morning sunshines with varying lights and shadows,
before the reader's mental eyes--remarkably beautiful; but all around
it--every bill and dale, every field and grove, every jutting promontory
and retiring cove--partakes of the same character of pre-eminent
loveliness.
On the southern side of the expanse mentioned is a broad beach of white
sand. From the side of a cliff which towers above this beach flows a
fountain of water, very pure, clear, and cold, and equally abundant at
all seasons of the year. This fountain is known throughout a large
district of surrounding country as the Spout, and is some fifty yards
from the spot where the road, leading down the ravine before-mentioned,
enters upon the sands.
Just as Captain Marston and John Coe stepped upon the shore, and were
turning to the left hand to seek the fountain, a short and stout man,
about forty years of age, with long, curling locks of reddish-brown
hair, and a face very darkly tanned by sun and breeze, and, probably, by
battle, too--to judge by the marks upon his countenance--presented
himself before them.
"Stand!" exclaimed this individual, planting himself directly in front
of the two young men, and presenting a cocked pistol in each hand.
"We'll see about that," said John Coe, sternly, drawing a pistol also.
But Captain Marston placed a hand upon the arm of the angry young man.
"Don't be so fast, John," he said. "Don't you see the twinkle in the
fellow's eyes? I am disposed to believe that this is but a jest after
all. What do you want?" he continued, addressing the sailor.
"No one can go beyond this spot," answered the stranger, "without giving
the password."
"A F E?" said Captain Marston, interrogatively.
"There seems to be something in that," remarked the sailor; "but it will
not answer."
"How will this answer?" asked the captain. "`All for Each?'"
"All right," was the reply; "pass, gentlemen."
As the two young men walked forward, they were followed by the sailor,
who still held the two pistols in his hands.
On arriving in front of the Spout, they found a beautiful row-boat, the
bow of which just touched the shore. It was manned by four sturdy
seamen, whose hands rested upon their oars, which were ready placed in
their rowlocks. A boy, apparently between fifteen and sixteen years of
age, in straw hat and light blue trousers and jacket, occupied the stern
seat. This last-mentioned person was remarkably handsome; his face was
beautifully oval in its shape; its complexion was a pale brunette (if I
may use the phrase), there being in it no tinge of red. His form was
slender and graceful; his large, soft black eyes had a thoughtful, or
rather a dreamy expression, and masses of jet-black curls hung down
below his shoulders.
"Jump aboard, gentlemen," said the sailor in fancy dress; "the time is
fully arrived, and we shall be expected as soon as we can make the
distance. If we don't go at once, somebody will be disappointed."
"A moment, if you please, sir," said John, in a sarcastic tone and
manner, and with a darkening expression of face. "May I claim the
honour of knowing your name?"
"Certainly, sir," was the answer, accompanied by a mock-ceremonious bow,
which did not tend to cool the rising wrath of young Coe. "My name is
William Brown, better known as Billy Bowsprit. This latter name may
seem, unaccompanied by a proper explanation, to derogate from the
dignity of the fair position which I occupy in maritime society, and
with which, by-the-bye, I will presently make you acquainted. But it
originated in what was, in fact, a compliment to my wit and my other
good qualities. A highly intelligent gentleman, of French
inclinations--having probably been born of such a disposition, seeing
that he was a native of Paris--once did me the honour, on account of
some slight jocular remark which fell from me in a social hour, of
saying that I was a _beau esprit_. The rude, unlettered sailors," he
waved a hand towards those in the row-boat, "have, in their ignorance,
manufactured out of this compliment the absurd name of Bowsprit. I
submit to the _soubriquet_, partly because those who use it do not know
any better, but mainly because it intimates a just compliment, seeing
that, as the bowsprit is in advance of the ship, so do I take the lead
of all on shipboard in all affairs where either sagacity or boldness is
required."
"Well, Mr Brown," began young Coe--
"Allow me, if you please, sir," said Bowsprit, interrupting him, and
making at the same time a low and apologetic bow; "I have not yet
finished the catalogue of myself, a desire to become acquainted with
which was intimated in your polite and very flattering inquiry. Permit
me to add, to what I have already said, that I fill the honourable post
of first-mate on board of as beautiful a little craft as eye was ever
blessed with seeing."
The reader will, perhaps, be surprised at the great apparent improvement
in the language of Billy Bowsprit since his first introduction in the
second chapter. The fact is, that individual had received what is
called a good ordinary education, and prided himself upon his ability to
talk in either good English, or in what he styled "sailors' lingo."
"Well, Mr Brown, better known as Billy Bowsprit," said John Coe, in a
tone of voice expressive of both anger and resolution, as soon as the
voluble sailor gave him an opportunity of speaking, "I wish you to know
that I do not allow myself to be dealt with in this summary manner. I
shall return home, and any man who interferes with me will do so at his
imminent peril."
Saying this, he drew both of his pistols, setting the hammers with his
thumbs in the act of drawing them from his pockets.
Billy Bowsprit raised the pistol which was in his right hand, and was
about to pull the trigger, when at a slight and rapid sign from Captain
Marston, who stood a little in the rear of young Coe, he suddenly
pointed the muzzles of both pistols towards the ground. At the same
moment the captain drew both of his pistols also, and placed himself by
the side of John.
"Come," he said, addressing Billy Bowsprit in a really stern voice, "if
this is a jest--as I think it is--we have had enough of it. Tell us
what you want, and what the whole of this singular affair means."
"Why, sir," replied the seaman, in a somewhat crestfallen tone, "no harm
has been meant to either of you all the while; and if this young
gentleman," looking at John, "hadn't been quite so fiery, everything
would have been explained to you some time ago. The fact is, my captain
is an old acquaintance of both of you; he hasn't seen either of you for
years, and so is very anxious to see you both, if only for a short time.
He wants you to come and take breakfast with him this morning. He had
business with the schooner up the river here as far as Benedict, to land
a cargo of goods. He has to get to Baltimore as soon as possible, but
was determined to see you both first. So he landed me early yesterday
morning, on this side of the river, opposite Benedict, to carry a
message to you. But not knowing the latitude and longitude of that part
of the country, I was obliged to take bearings and to make observations
so often, that I did not arrive in your neighbourhood till after
midnight; and I did not of course like to waken up families who were
strangers to me at such a time of night. The notion about the cards was
one of my own--a kind of experiment. I know how much curiosity there is
in the world; and I felt certain, therefore, of seeing you two gentlemen
here this morning."
"Thank you for the compliment, Mr Bowlegs--I beg your pardon--
Bowsprit," said the captain. "You seem to be somewhat of a philosopher;
you carry out a plan with so much coolness, so much self-possession,
beings always on your guard neither to act nor to speak hastily or
unadvisedly."
There was evidently sarcasm, if not irony, in the captain's remarks.
The sailor bowed merely; he seemed to be, to use a common expression,
"struck dumb."
Young Coe laughed heartily. Yet he must doubtless have felt somewhat
abashed at the conviction that Marston's course of treating the affair
as a farce was decidedly more successful than his own, of viewing it as
a melodrama.
There was silence for a minute or two, during which all the pistols
which had been drawn were put out of sight. At length the stillness was
broken by a question from John.
"How did you manage to get your card or note into my room?" he asked of
the sailor.
"Allow me to keep that secret to myself," answered Billy Bowsprit, with
a smile, holding out in his hand at the same time, however, several
skeleton keys. "But you are not to suppose, Mr Coe, that these keys
show that I have any bad habits; I have never used them except in such
innocent ventures as the present."
John took the skeleton keys in his hand; he had never seen such
instruments before.
"I don't think," he remarked, returning the keys, "that any one of those
could possibly unlock my outer door."
"One must understand the use of them," replied Billy Bowsprit. "I have
others, however."
"How did you so readily make your way to this point!" asked Captain
Marston of Billy Bowsprit.
"Why, sir," was the reply, "I have been over this road before, many
years ago now. On that occasion, I was for a short time at the houses
of both your father and Mr Coe. I came here because this was the place
where this boat here was to meet you two gentlemen and myself."
"Who is this friend of ours who wants to see us, Mr Bowsprit--I mean
Mr Brown?" asked John.
"I beg your pardon, sir," was the answer. "My captain particularly
ordered me not to tell you; he wanted, he said, to give you a pleasant
surprise."
"What do you say, John?" asked Captain Marston. "Shall we accept the
invitation of this unknown friend?"
"If we knew what to do with our horses," said John, "and I could get a
note home to tell them what has become of me, I should say `yes' at
once."
"If that is all that is in the way, gentlemen," said Mr Brown, _alias_
Bowsprit, "get your notes ready at once. Here, Tom," he continued,
addressing the youth who was sitting on the stern seat of the row-boat,
"do you knew the way to Millmont and to Blue Oldfields?"
"If I don't, I can inquire for it, sir," answered the boy.
"Then, as soon as you get the notes which these gentlemen want you to
deliver at their houses," said Bowsprit, "take their horses, which you
will find just behind those trees, _there_," pointing, "where the road
corners with the shore; and as soon as you can do so, deliver notes and
horses to their proper addresses. You will then walk down to Drum
Point, where we shall be by that time, and we will there take you
aboard."
"Ay, ay, sir," said the boy.
While these directions were being given, Captain Marston had drawn a
note-book and a couple of lead-pencils from his pocket. Tearing a blank
leaf from the book, he handed that and one of the pencils to John.
Using their hats as writing-desks, the two young men soon finished their
notes and handed them to the boy, who immediately started on his
mission.
The four men in the boat had been merely lookers-on and listeners in
respect to what had been taking place on the shore.
When the boy took his departure, Captain Marston, John Coe, and Billy
Bowsprit leaped into the boat.
"Will you steer, Captain Marston, if you please?" asked Bowsprit.
"With pleasure," answered the captain. "Then, if Mr Coe will take his
seat with you at the stern," said the sailor, "I will take my place at
the bow, and act as lookout."
The seats were taken, and the boat having been driven from the shore by
one or two backward strokes of the oars, her head was turned down the
creek. The supple rowers bending "with a will" to the elastic blades,
the light craft fleetly bounded on her course over the glowing tide of
Saint Leonard's, towards the broad Clearwater, which lay before them in
the morning sunshine as ever bright and beautiful.