_Oliv._ “Did he write this?”
_Clo._ “Aye, Madam.”
What You Will.
If we say that Alida de Barbérie did not cast a glance behind her, as
the party quitted the wharf, in order to see whether the boat that
contained the commander of the cruiser followed the example of the
others, we shall probably portray the maiden as one that was less
subject to the influence of coquetry than the truth would justify. To
the great discontent of the Alderman, whatever might have been the
feelings of his niece, on the occasion, the barge continued to approach
the shore, in a manner which showed that the young seaman betrayed no
visible interest in the result of the chase.
The heights of Staten Island, a century ago, were covered, much as they
are at present, with a growth of dwarf-trees. Foot-paths led among this
meagre vegetation, in divers directions; and as the hamlet at the
Quarantine-Ground was the point whence they all diverged, it required a
practised guide to thread their mazes, without a loss of both time and
distance. It would seem, however, that the worthy burgher was fully
equal to the office; for, moving with more than his usual agility, he
soon led his companions into the wood, and, by frequently altering his
course, so completely confounded their sense of the relative bearings
of places, that it is not probable one of them all could very readily
have extricated himself from the labyrinth.
“Clouds and shady bowers!” exclaimed Myndert, when he had achieved, to
his own satisfaction, this evasion of the pursuit he wished to avoid;
“little oaks and green pines are pleasant on a June morning. You shall
have mountain air and a sea-breeze Patroon, to quicken the appetite at
the Lust in Rust. If Alicia will speak, the girl can say that a
mouthful of the elixir is better for a rosy cheek, than all the
concoctions and washes that were ever invented to give a man a
heart-ache.”
“If the place be as much changed as the road that leads to it,”
returned la belle Barbérie, glancing her dark eye, in vain, in the
direction of the bay they had quitted, “I should scarcely venture an
opinion on a subject of which I am obliged to confess utter ignorance.”
“Ah, woman is nought but vanities! To see and to be seen, is the
delight of the sex. Though we are a thousand times more comfortable in
this wood than we should be in walking along the water-side, why, the
sea-gulls and snipes lose the benefit of our company! The salt water,
and all who live on it, are to be avoided by a wise man, Mr. Van
Staats, except as they both serve to cheapen freight and to render
trade brisk. You’ll thank me for this care, niece of mine, when you
reach the bluff, cool as a package of furs free from moth, and fresh
and beautiful as a Holland tulip, with the dew on it.”
“To resemble the latter, one might consent to walk blindfold, dearest
uncle; and so we dismiss the subject. François, fais moi le plaisir de
porter ce petit livre; malgré la fraîcheur de la fôret, j’ai besoin de
m’évanter.”
The valet took the book, with an empressement that defeated the more
tardy politeness of the Patroon; and when he saw, by the vexed eye and
flushed cheek of his young mistress, that she was incommoded rather by
an internal than by the external heat, he whispered considerately,—
“Que ma chère Mademoiselle Alide ne se fâche pas! Elle ne manquerait
jamais d’admirateurs, dans un désert. Ah! si Mam’selle allait voir la
patrie de ses ancêtres!—”
“’Merci bien, mon cher; gardez les feuilles, fortement fermées. Il y a
des papiers dedans.”
“Monsieur François,” said the Alderman, separating his niece, with
little ceremony, from her nearly parental attendant, by the
interposition of his own bulky person, and motioning for the others to
proceed, “a word with thee in confidence. I have noted, in the course
of a busy and I hope a profitable life, that a faithful servant is an
honest counsellor. Next to Holland and England, both of which are great
commercial nations, and the Indies, which are necessary to these
colonies, together with a natural preference for the land in which I
was born, I have always been of opinion, that France is a very good
sort of a country. I think, Mr. Francis, that dislike to the seas has
kept you from returning thither, since the decease of my late
brother-in-law?”
“Wid like for Mam’selle Alide, Monsieur, avec votre permission.”
“Your affection for my niece, honest François, is not to be doubted. It
is as certain as the payment of a good draft, by Crommeline, Van
Stopper, and Van Gelt, of Amsterdam. Ah! old valet! she is fresh and
blooming as a rose, and a girl of excellent qualities! ’Tis a pity that
she is a little opinionated; a defect that she doubtless inherits from
her Norman ancestors; since all of my family have ever been remarkable
for listening to reason. The Normans were an obstinate race, as witness
the siege of Rochelle, by which oversight real estate in that city must
have lost much in value!”
“Mille excuses, Monsieur Bevre’——; more beautiful as de rose, and no
opiniâtre du tout. Mon Dieu! pour sa qualité, c’est une famille très
ancienne.”
“That was a weak point with my brother Barbérie, and, after all, it did
not add a cipher to the sum-total of the assets. The best blood, Mr.
François, is that which has been best fed. The line of Hugh Capet
himself would fail, without the butcher; and the butcher would
certainly fail, without customers that can pay. François, thou art a
man who understands the value of a sure footing in the world; would it
not be a thousand pities, that such a girl as Alida should throw
herself away on one whose best foundation is no better than a rolling
ship?”
“Certainement, Monsieur; Mam’selle be too good to roll in de ship.”
“Obliged to follow a husband, up and down; among freebooters and
dishonest traders; in fair weather and foul; hot and cold; wet and dry;
bilge-water and salt-water; cramps and nausea; salt-junk and no junk;
gales and calms,—and all for a hasty judgment formed in sanguine
youth.”
The face of the valet had responded to the Alderman’s enumeration of
the evils that would attend so ill-judged a step in his niece, as
faithfully as if each muscle had been a mirror, to reflect the
contortions of one suffering under the malady of the sea.
“Parbleu, c’est horrible cette mer!” he ejaculated; when the other had
done. “It is grand malheur, dere should be watair but for drink, and
for la propreté, avec fosse to keep de carp round le château. Mais,
Mam’selle be no haste jugement, and she shall have mari on la terre
solide.”
“’Twould be better, that the estate of my brother-in-law should be kept
in sight, judicious François, than to be sent adrift on the high seas.”
“Dere vas marin dans la famille de Barbérie nevair.”
“Bonds and balances! if the savings of one I could name, frugal
François, were added in current coin the sum-total would sink a common
ship. You know it is my intention to remember Alida, in settling
accounts with the world.”
“If Monsieur de Barbérie vas ’live, Monsieur Alderman, he should say
des choses convenables; mais, malheureusement, mon cher, maître est
mort; and, sair, I shall be bold to remercier pour lui, et pour toute
sa famille.”
“Women are perverse, and sometimes they have pleasure in doing the very
thing they are desired not to do.”
“Ma foi, oui!”
“Prudent men should manage them with soft words and rich gifts; with
these, they become orderly as a pair of well-broke geldings.”
“Monsieur know,” said the old valet, rubbing his hands, and laughing
with the subdued voice of a well-bred domestic, though he could not
conceal a jocular wink; “pourtant il est garçon! Le cadeau be good for
de demoiselles, and bettair as for de dames.”
“Wedlock and blinkers! it is we gâssons, as you call us, who ought to
know. Your hen-pecked husband has no time to generalize among the sex,
in order to understand the real quality of the article. Now, here is
Van Staats of Kinderhook, faithful François; what think you of such a
youth for a husband for Alida?”
“Pourtant, Mam’selle like de vivacité; Monsieur le Patroon be nevair
trop vif.”
“The more likely to be sure—Hist, I hear a footstep. We are
followed—chased, perhaps, I should say, to speak in the language of
these sea-gentry. Now is the time to show this Captain Ludlow, how a
Frenchman can wind him round his finger, on terra-firma. Loiter in the
rear, and draw our navigator on a wrong course. When he has run into a
fog, come yourself, with all speed, to the oak on the bluff. There we
shall await you.”
Flattered by this confidence, and really persuaded that he was
furthering the happiness of her he served, the old valet nodded, in
reply to the Alderman’s wink and chuckle, and immediately relaxed his
speed. The former pushed ahead; and, in a minute, he and those who
followed had turned short to the left, and were out of sight.
Though faithfully and even affectionately attached to Alida, her
servant had many of the qualifications of an European domestic. Trained
in all the ruses of his profession, he was of that school which
believes civilization is to be measured by artifice; and success lost
some of its value, when it had been effected by the vulgar machinery of
truth and common sense. No wonder then the retainer entered into the
views of the Alderman, with more than a usual relish for the duty. He
heard the cracking of the dried twigs beneath the footstep of him who
followed; and in order that there might be no chance of missing the
desired interview, the valet began to hum a French air, in so loud a
key, as to be certain the sounds would reach any ear that was nigh. The
twigs snapped more rapidly, the footsteps seemed nearer, and then the
hero of the India-shawl sprang to the side of the expecting François.
The disappointment seemed mutual, and on the part of the domestic it
entirely disconcerted all his pre-arranged schemes for misleading the
commander of the Coquette. Not so with the bold mariner. So far from
his self-possession being disturbed, it would have been no easy matter
to restrain his audacity ever in situations far more trying than any in
which he has yet been presented to the reader.
“What cheer, in thy woodland cruise, Monsieur Broad-Pennant?” he said,
with infinite coolness, the instant his steady glance had ascertained
they were alone. “This is safer navigation for an officer of thy
draught of water, than running about the bay, in a periagua. What may
be the longitude, and where-a-way did you part company from the
consorts?”
“Sair, I valk in de vood for de plaisir, and I go on de bay for
de—parbleu, non! ’tis to follow ma jeune maîtresse I go on de bay; and,
sair, I wish dey who do love de bay and de sea, would not come into de
vood, du tout.”
“Well spoken, and with ample spirit;—what, a student too! one in a wood
should glean something from his labors. Is it the art of furling a main
cue, that is taught in this pretty volume?”
As the mariner put his question, he very deliberately took the book
from François, who, instead of resenting the liberty, rather offered
the volume, in exultation.
“No, sair, it is not how to furl la queue, but how to touch de soul;
not de art to haul over de calm, but—oui, c’est plein de connoissance
et d’esprit! Ah! ha! you know de Cid! le grand homme! l’homme de génie!
If you read, Monsieur Marin, you shall see la vraie poésie! Not de big
book and no single rhyme—Sair, I do not vish to say vat is penible,
mais it is not one book widout rhyme; it was not écrit on de sea. Le
diable! que le vrai génie, et les nobles sentiments, se trouvent dans
ce livre, la!”
“Aye, I see it is a log-book, for every man to note his mind in. I
return you Master Cid, with his fine sentiments, in the bargain. Great
as was his genius, it would seem he was not the man to write all that I
find between the leaves.”
“He not write him all! Yes, sair, he shall write him six time more dan
all, if la France a besoin. Que l’envie de ces Anglais se découvre
quand on parle des beaux génies de la France!”
“I will only say, if the gentleman wrote the whole that is in the book,
and it is as fine as you would make a plain seafaring man believe, he
did wrong not to print it.”
“Print!” echoed François, opening his eyes, and the volume, by a common
impulse, “Imprimé! ha! here is papier of Mam’selle Alide, assurément.”
“Take better heed of it then,” interrupted the seaman of the shawl. “As
for your Cid, to me it is an useless volume, since it teaches neither
the latitude of a shoal, nor the shape of a coast.”
“Sair, it teach de morale; de rock of de passion et les grands
mouvements de l’ame! Oui, Sair; it teach all, un Monsieur vish to know.
Tout le monde read him in la France; en province, comme en ville. If sa
Majesté, le Grand Louis, be not so mal avisé, as to chasser Messieurs
les Huguenots from his royaume, I shall go to Paris, to hear le Cid,
moi-même!”
“A good journey to you, Monsieur Cue. We may meet on the road, until
which time I take my departure. The day may come, when we shall
converse with a rolling sea beneath us. Till then, brave cheer!”
“Adieu, Monsieur,” returned François, bowing with a politeness that had
become too familiar to be forgotten. “If we do not meet but in de sea,
we shall not meet, nevair. Ah, ha, ha! Monsieur le Marin n’aime pas à
entendre parler de la gloire de la France! Je voudrais bien savoir lire
ce f—e Shak-a-spear, pour voir, combien l’immortel Corneille lui est
supérieur. Ma foi, oui; Monsieur Pierre Corneille est vraiment un homme
illustre!”
The faithful, self-complacent, and aged valet then pursued his way
towards the large oak on the bluff; for as he ceased speaking, the
mariner of the gay sash had turned deeper into the woods, and left him
alone. Proud of the manner, in which he had met the audacity of the
stranger, prouder still of the reputation of the author, whose fame had
been known in France long before his own departure from Europe, and not
a little consoled with the reflection that he had contributed his mite
to support the honor of his distant and well-beloved country, the
honest François pressed the volume affectionately beneath his arm, and
hastened on after his mistress.
Though the position of Staten Island and its surrounding bays is so
familiar to the Manhattanese an explanation of the localities may be
agreeable to readers who dwell at a distance from the scene of the
tale.
It has already been said, that the principal communication between the
bays of Raritan and York, is called the Narrows. At the mouth of this
passage, the land on Staten Island rises in a high bluff, which
overhangs the water, not unlike the tale-fraught cape of Misenum. From
this elevated point, the eye not only commands a view of both estuaries
and the city, but it looks far beyond the point of Sandy-Hook, into the
open sea. It is here that, in our own days, ships are first noted in
the offing, and whence the news of the approach of his vessel is
communicated to the expecting merchant by means of the telegraph. In
the early part of the last century, arrivals were too rare to support
such an establishment. The bluff was therefore little resorted to,
except by some occasional admirer of scenery, or by those countrymen
whom business, at long intervals, drew to the spot. It had been early
cleared of its wood, and the oak already mentioned was the only tree
standing in a space of some ten or a dozen acres.
It has been seen that Alderman Van Beverout had appointed this solitary
oak, as the place of rendezvous with François. Thither then he took his
way on parting from the valet, and to this spot we must now transfer
the scene. A rude seat had been placed around the root of the tree, and
here the whole party, with the exception of the absent domestic, were
soon seated. In a minute, however, they were joined by the exulting
François, who immediately related the particulars of his recent
interview with the stranger.
“A clear conscience, with cordial friends, and a fair balance-sheet,
may keep a man warm in January, even in this climate,” said the
Alderman, willing to turn the discourse; “but what with rebellious
blacks, hot streets, and spoiling furs, it passeth mortal powers to
keep cool in yonder overgrown and crowded town. Thou seest, Patroon,
the spot of white on the opposite side of the bay.—Breezes and fanning!
that is the Lust in Rust, where cordial enters the mouth at every
breath, and where a man has room to cast up the sum-total of his
thoughts, any hour in the twenty-four.”
“We seem quite as effectually alone on this hill, with the advantage of
having a city in the view,” remarked Alida, with an emphasis that
showed she meant even more than she expressed.
“We are by ourselves, niece of mine,” returned the Alderman, rubbing
his hands as if he secretly felicitated himself that the fact were so.
“That truth cannot be denied, and good company we are, though the
opinion comes from one who is not a cipher in the party. Modesty is a
poor man’s wealth, but as we grow substantial in the world, Patroon,
one can afford to begin to speak truth of himself, as well as of his
neighbor.”
“In which case, little, but good, will be uttered from the mouth of
Alderman Van Beverout,” said Ludlow, appearing so suddenly from behind
the root of the tree, as effectually to shut the mouth of the burgher.
“My desire to offer the services of the ship to your party, has led to
this abrupt intrusion, and I hope will obtain its pardon.”
“The power to forgive is a prerogative of the Governor, who represents
the Queen,” drily returned the Alderman. “If Her Majesty has so little
employment for her cruisers, that their captains can dispose of them,
in behalf of old men and young maidens—why, happy is the age, and
commerce should flourish!”
“If the two duties are compatible, the greater the reason why a
commander should felicitate himself that he may be of service to so
many. You are bound to the Jersey Highlands, Mr. Van Beverout?”
“I am bound to a comfortable and very private abode, called the Lust in
Rust, Captain Cornelius Van Cuyler Ludlow.”
The young man bit his lip, and his healthful but brown cheek flushed a
deeper red than common, though he preserved his composure.
“And I am bound to sea,” he soon said. “The wind is getting fresh, and
your boat, which I see, at this moment, standing in for the islands,
will find it difficult to make way against its force. The Coquette’s
anchor will be aweigh, in twenty minutes; and I shall find two hours of
an ebbing tide, and a top-gallant breeze, but too short a time for the
pleasure of entertaining such guests. I am certain that the fears of la
Belle will favor my wishes, whichsoever side of the question her
inclinations may happen to be.”
“And they are with her uncle;” quickly returned Alida. “I am so little
of a sailor, that prudence, if not pusillanimity, teaches me to depend
on the experience of older heads.”
“Older I may not pretend to be,” said Ludlow, coloring; “but Mr. Van
Beverout will see no pretension in believing myself as good a judge of
wind and tide, as even he himself can be.”
“You are said to command Her Majesty’s sloop with skill, Captain
Ludlow, and it is creditable to the colony, that it has produced so
good an officer; though I believe your grandfather came into the
province, so lately as on the restoration of King Charles the Second?”
“We cannot claim descent from the United Provinces, Alderman Van
Beverout, on the paternal side, but whatever may have been the
political opinions of my grandfather, those of his descendant have
never been questioned. Let me entreat the fair Alida to take counsel of
the apprehension I am sure she feels, and to persuade her uncle that
the Coquette is safer than his periagua.”
“It is said to be easier to enter than to quit your ship,” returned the
laughing Alida. “By certain symptoms that attended our passage to the
island, your Coquette, like others, is fond of conquest. One is not
safe beneath so malign an influence.”
“This is a reputation given by our enemies. I had hoped for a different
answer from la belle Barbérie.”
The close of the sentence was uttered with an emphasis that caused the
blood to quicken its movement in the veins of the maiden. It was
fortunate that neither of their companions was very observant, or else
suspicions might have been excited, that a better intelligence existed
between the young sailor and the heiress, than would have comported
with their wishes and intentions.
“I had hoped for a different answer from la belle Barbérie,” repeated
Ludlow, in a lower voice, but with even a still more emphatic tone than
before.
There was evidently a struggle in the mind of Alida.—She overcame it,
before her confusion could be noted; and, turning to the valet, she
said, with the composure and grace that became a gentlewoman—
“Rends moi le livre, François.”
“Le voici—ah! ma chère Mam’selle Alide, que ce Monsieur le marin se
fâchait à cause de la gloire, et des beaux vers de notre illustre M.
Pierre Corneille!”
“Here is an English sailor, that I am sure will not deny the merit of
an admired writer, even though he come of a nation that is commonly
thought hostile, François,” returned his mistress, smiling “Captain
Ludlow, it is now a month since I am your debtor, by promise, for a
volume of Corneille, and I here acquit myself of the obligation. When
you have perused the contents of this book, with the attention they
deserve, I may hope——”
“For a speedy opinion of their merits.”
“I was about to say, to receive the volume again, as it is a legacy
from my father,” steadily rejoined Alida.
“Legacies and foreign tongues!” muttered the Alderman. “One is well
enough; but for the other, English and Dutch are all that the wisest
man need learn. I never could understand an account of protit and loss
in any other tongue, Patroon; and even a favorable balance never
appears so great as it is, unless the account be rendered in one or the
other of these rational dialects. Captain Ludlow, we thank you for your
politeness, but here is one of my fellows to tell us that my own
periagua is arrived; and, wishing you a happy and a long cruise, as we
say of lives, I bid you, adieu.”
The young seaman returned the salutations of the party, with a better
grace than his previous solicitude to persuade them to enter his ship,
might have given reason to expect. He even saw them descend the hill,
towards the water of the outer bay, with entire composure; and it was
only after they had entered a thicket which hid them from view, that he
permitted his feelings to have sway.
Then indeed he drew the volume from his pocket and opened its leaves
with an eagerness he could no longer control. It seemed as if he
expected to read more, in the pages, than the author had caused to be
placed there; but when his eye caught sight of a sealed billet, the
legacy of M. de Barbérie fell at his feet; and the paper was torn
asunder, with all the anxiety of one who expected to find in its
contents a decree of life or death.
Amazement was clearly the first emotion of the young seaman. He read
and re-read; struck his brow with his hand; gazed about him at the land
and at the water; re-perused the note; examined the superscription,
which was simply to ‘Capt. Ludlow, of Her Majesty’s ship Coquette:’
smiled; muttered between his teeth; seemed vexed, and yet delighted;
read the note again, word by word, and finally thrust it into his
pocket, with the air of a man who had found reason for both regret and
satisfaction in its contents.