*Sebastian*. How are you, friends?
I'm very glad to see you.
_As You Will_.
*Toby*. Who are these men, sir?
*Wily Will*. They're travellers only.
_The Masquerade_.
The row-boats, carrying John, Captain Harry Marston, Billy Bowsprit, and
the four seamen, leaving the mouth of Saint Leonard's Creek, entered
upon that largest and fairest of the several lake-like expanses of the
Clearwater--being six miles in length and three in width--which lies
between Point Patience on the south-east, and Solitary Point on the
north-west.
On gaining an offing sufficient to give the occupants of the boat a view
commanding the whole expanse, only one vessel was in sight. This was a
graceful little schooner, of about thirty tons burden, which lay at
anchor on a part of the river called the Flats, situate on the eastern
side of the stream; she was in a position south-east of Otter Point,
directly in front of Hungerford's Creek, and about a mile and a half
from Point Patience. An easy row of three-quarters of an hour over the
crystal-like waters, which were but slightly stirred by a slight wind,
brought the boat from the Spout alongside of this schooner.
A vessel so small required no steps to ascend her sides, and the
occupants of the row-boat soon leaped upon the deck. They were there
met by a young man about five feet and a half in height, with blue eyes,
light flaxen hair, and cheeks which, originally fair, were somewhat
tanned by exposure to sun, wind, and weather. He was dressed in
roundabout and pantaloons of light blue cloth, pumps, and light straw
hat.
"How are you, John? how are you, Harry?" he exclaimed, shaking hands
with Coe and Marston, with much appearance of cordiality. "I am very
glad to see you. I hope that you are not offended with the _ruse_ which
I used to bring you to see me for a short time? I feared that, if you
knew who it was, you would not take the trouble to come to see me."
Both of the young men assured him that a _ruse_ was not at all
necessary; it was nearly preventing them from coming, and that, had they
only known at once that it was their old school-friend, George Dempster,
who wanted to see them, there would have been no hesitation on their
part in coming to visit him.
John Coe was much surprised at finding George Dempster--who had been his
classmate at Princeton, and who was the oldest son of a planter in good
circumstances on the eastern shore of Maryland--occupying the position
of skipper of a small bay-craft; politeness, however, prevented him from
making any allusion to what seemed to him so singular.
Captain Dempster--to give him the title generally bestowed in courtesy
upon the commander of the smallest trading craft, on the Chesapeake Bay,
at least--invited his old friends to come at once into his cabin.
Here a mahogany table was handsomely set out, being spread with a fine
linen diaper cloth, and being covered with a porcelain breakfast-set.
Cushioned mahogany seats for four surrounded the table.
The steward--or he who in a vessel so small generally performs the
duties of both that officer and of cook--had apparently already received
his orders, for scarcely had the captain, his mate, and his two friends
entered the cabin, when breakfast was placed on the table. Fragrant
coffee, light rolls, fresh butter, ham and eggs, fried crocuses and soft
crabs, formed the repast.
"You may think it strange, my friends," said Captain Dempster, while the
party of four were partaking of the meal, for which the bracing morning
air and their early ride and row had given my hero and Captain Marston
keen appetites, "that you find me in this position. The matter is
easily explained, however. It is due to a compromise, agreed to by my
father and myself, between my extreme views in favour of a life on the
ocean and his extreme views in favour of a life for me on the land.
Thus I can indulge, to a limited extent, my preference for a seafaring
life, and he can enjoy what he honours me by calling the pleasure of
seeing me frequently. I confess that I would much prefer a life on the
open sea; but one must not be disobedient to an affectionate and
generally indulgent father."
While the three friends--Mr Bowsprit had left the table, as soon as his
appetite was satisfied, to attend to duties upon deck--sat over their
claret, talking of "old days," as, even when young, we fondly call them,
hours sped on. In the meantime the anchor had been secured on board,
the sails hoisted, and the vessel had laid her course down the river,
impelled by a light wind from the west. Point Patience was soon
rounded, and in two hours and a half or three hours from the time of
leaving her anchorage, the schooner had passed down the lowest reach of
Clearwater, and had rounded to at the extreme end of Drum Point, to take
on board the lad who had been sent to deliver the horses and notes of
John Alvan Coe and Captain Marston to their respective homes. The boy
made excellent speed, and was waiting at the place of rendezvous when
the schooner was still some miles from the Point.
"Why, Dempster," said young Coe, seeing that they had passed Drum Point
Harbour, "you are not going out upon the bay, are you?"
"I have to take off a load of cord-wood," was the answer, "from the
shore near the old Eltonhead Manor House, this side of Cove Point. We
shall there be but little farther from your home than here at Drum
Point; and I want to see all that I can of both of you. But think, Coe,
of my carrying a load of fire-wood to Baltimore!
"`To what base uses we may come, Horatio.'"
"But how are Marston and myself to get home this evening?" asked John.
"Oh! as to that matter," was the answer, "I can borrow horses from Mr
Chew, whose house is but a few miles from Eltonhead; and the boy Tom,
who took your horses home this morning, can go with you, and bring back
the animals. But I hope that you will not return until the morning.
Let me spend at least one evening with you."
"What do you say, Marston?" asked John, who was enjoying the society of
his friends very much. "I have not seen that lonely old Eltonhead house
since I was a schoolboy, and I should like to see it again, especially
if we could visit it `by the glimpses of the moon' to-night, since it
has now, and has had for some time, I believe, the reputation of being
haunted. I hardly think that they would feel uneasy at home on account
of my continued absence, as I merely said in my note that I was going to
visit a friend on board of his vessel."
"If you are agreed, let us stay," replied Marston. "I should like to
revisit the old house myself, especially as you say, to
"`Visit it by the pale moonlight.'"
"And, if you gentlemen desire it," said Captain Dempster, "I will have
some hammocks swung this evening in the old manor house. We will pass
the night there, and will thus--to take a liberty with Sir Walter
Scott's verse--dare
"`To brave the witches in their den,
The spirits in their hall.'"
This proposition being very agreeable to both Coe and Marston, they
consented to continue as Captain Dempster's guests until the morning.
The three young men remained upon deck to enjoy the glorious day and the
beautiful and rapidly shifting scenes presented to their view, as the
schooner skirted, within a few hundred yards of the beach, the northern
shore of Patuxent Roads--a sheet of water which is, in fact (as I have
before mentioned, I think), a gulf or widening of the Chesapeake Bay at
the mouth of the Clearwater river. While the three friends were gaily
chatting, inspired by the cheering influence of their surroundings, Mr
Bowsprit walked up to the commander of the craft.
"Captain Dempster," he said, "I think those sailors in the hold and
forecastle will be getting into a state of mutiny soon, if we don't let
them come out upon deck. They say that their quarters are too close."
"Tell them," replied the skipper, "they can come up as soon as they
please; we are now fairly out of the Clearwater--at least, out of sight
of Drum Point Harbour."
The sheet of water called Patuxent Roads is by some considered to be a
part of the Clearwater river.
"These men of whom Mr Brown speaks," continued Captain Dempster,
addressing his two friends, "are some newly-discharged United States
seamen, whom I am taking to Baltimore. I had a load of freight to carry
from Baltimore to Portsmouth. At the latter place these men applied to
me for passage to the former city. I told them that I had freight to
take from Portsmouth to Benedict, and then a load of wood to carry to
Baltimore. As they did not care much for the delay, I bargained to take
them to Baltimore, and to charge them only for what their board while on
the schooner might be worth, on condition that they would help us to
load and to unload. I did not wish so many men to be seen on board of
my craft while in the river, since such an incident would probably
subject me to the delay of a search by the revenue officer, who, having
but very little to do, naturally wishes to make the most of his office."
About thirty rough, sunburnt and weather-beaten men now came upon the
deck. Among them was almost every variety of dress which nautical
fashions then allowed; but the cloth roundabouts and tarpaulin hats
prevailed. They kept away from the after-part of the deck, gathering in
groups amidships and towards the bow. They seemed to be in fine
spirits, as frequent bursts of somewhat subdued laughter came from the
different groups. Little did young Coe think that he was the subject of
their merriment.
It was scarcely half an hour after these men came upon deck when the
schooner anchored about fifty yards from the beach, at a point where
long ranks of pine and oak cord-wood were ranged along the edge of the
cliff, which was here but from twenty to twenty-five feet high. A large
flatboat, oblong in shape, and of the kind commonly called "scow," was
lying on rollers far up on the beach and close under the cliff.
As soon as the anchor was dropped overboard and the sails lowered and
secured, the row-boat--which had been hanging from the davits at the
stern of the schooner since the lad had been taken aboard at Drum
Point--was forthwith let down into the water. It had to make three
trips from the schooner to the shore before the unusually large number
of hands were all landed. Then the scow was at once pushed into the
water. Some of the seamen soon ascended the cliff by a small ravine
near at hand; and the work of throwing down the wood to the beach,
pitching it to the water's edge, and piling it into the scow was at once
commenced.
Our hero and his two friends passed the rest of the day, to all
appearances, very pleasantly together; there was so much to say to each
other of what young people call, queerly enough, "old times," so much
that each had to tell to the others of what had occurred to himself
since their last meeting. About an hour after the schooner came to
anchor they took their dinner--which comprised "all the luxuries of the
season"--in the elegant little cabin. Mr Bowsprit was present at this
meal, and added to the enjoyment of it by his unique and pleasant
sallies. This joyous individual was with them only at dinner; his duty
required him to attend to the loading of the vessel. The dinner of the
hands, by the way, was sent ashore to them, and eaten under the shade of
the trees upon the cliff.