“—What, has this thing appeared again, to-night?”
Hamlet.
“The face of man is the log-book of his thoughts, and Captain Ludlow’s
seems agreeable,” observed a voice, that came from one, who was not far
from the commander of the Coquette, while the latter was still enacting
the pantomime described in the close of the preceding chapter.
“Who speaks of thoughts and log-books or who dares to pry into my
movements?” demanded the young sailor, fiercely.
“One who has trifled with the first and scribbled in the last too
often, not to know how to meet a squall, whether it be seen in the
clouds or only on the face of man. As for looking into your movements,
Captain Ludlow, I have watched too many big ships in my time, to turn
aside at each light cruiser that happens to cross my course. I hope,
sir, you have an answer; every hail has its right to a civil reply.”
Ludlow could scarce believe his senses, when, on turning to face the
intruder, he saw himself confronted by the audacious eye and calm mien
of the mariner who had, once before that morning, braved his
resentment. Curbing his indignation, however, the young man endeavored
to emulate the coolness which, notwithstanding his inferior condition,
imparted to the air of the other something that was imposing, if it
were not absolutely authoritative. Perhaps the singularity of the
adventure aided in effecting an object, that was a little difficult of
attainment in one accustomed to receive so much habitual deference from
most of those who made the sea their home. Swallowing his resentment,
the young commander answered—
“He that knows how to face his enemies with spirit, may be accounted
sufficiently bold; but he who braves the anger of his friends, is
foolhardy.”
“And he who does neither, is wiser than both,” rejoined the reckless
hero of the sash. “Captain Ludlow, we meet on equal terms, at present,
and the parley may be managed with some freedom.”
“Equality is a word that ill applies to men of stations so different.”
“Of our stations and duties it is not necessary to speak. I hope that,
when the proper time shall come, both may be found ready to be at the
first, and equal to discharge the last. But Captain Ludlow, backed by
the broadside of the Coquette and the cross-fire of his marines, is not
Captain Ludlow alone, on a sea bluff, with a crutch no better than his
own arm, and a stout heart. As the first, he is like a spar supported
by backstays and forestays, braces and standing rigging; while, as the
latter, he is the stick, which keeps its head aloft by the soundness
and quality of its timber. You have the appearance of one who can go
alone, even though it blew heavier than at present, if one may judge of
the force of the breeze, by the manner it presses on the sails of
yonder boat in the bay.”
“Yonder boat begins to feel the wind, truly!” said Ludlow, suddenly
losing all other interest in the appearance of the periagua which held
Alida and her friends, and which, at that instant, shot out from
beneath the cover of the hill into the broad opening of Raritan bay.
“What think you of the time, my friend? a man of your years should
speak with knowledge of the weather.”
“Women and winds are only understood, when fairly in motion,” returned
he of the sash; “now, any mortal who consulted comfort and the skies,
would have preferred a passage in Her Majesty’s ship Coquette, to one
in yonder dancing periagua; and yet the fluttering silk we see, in the
boat, tells us there is one who has thought otherwise.”
“You are a man of singular intelligence,” cried Ludlow, again facing
the intruder; “as well as one of singular———”
“Effrontery,” rejoined the other, observing that the commander
hesitated. Let the commissioned officer of the Queen speak boldly; I am
no better than a top-man, or at most a quarter-master.”
“I wish to say nothing disagreeable, but I find your knowledge of my
offer to convey the lady and her friends to the residence of Alderman
Van Beverout, a little surprising.”
“And I see nothing to wonder at, in your offer to convey the lady
anywhere, though the liberality to her friends is not an act of so
clear explanation. When young men speak from the heart, their words are
not uttered in whispers.”
“Which would imply that you overheard our conversation. I believe it,
for here is cover at hand to conceal you. It may be, sir, that you have
eyes, as well as ears.”
“I confess to have seen your countenance, changing sides, like a member
of parliament turning to a new leaf in his conscience, at the
Minister’s signal while you overhauled a bit of paper——”
“Whose contents you could not know!”
“Whose contents I took to be some private orders, given by a lady who
is too much of a coquette herself, to accept your offer to sail in a
vessel of the same name.”
“By Heavens, the fellow has reason in his inexplicable impudence!”
muttered Ludlow, pacing backward and forward beneath the shadow of the
tree. “The language and the acts of the girl are in contradiction; and
I am a fool to be trifled with, like a midshipman fresh broken loose
from his mother’s apron-string. Harkee, Master-a-a—You’ve a name I
suppose, like any other straggler on the ocean.”
“Yes. When the hail is loud enough to be heard, I answer to the call of
Thomas Tiller.”
“Well then, Master Tiller, so clever a seaman should be glad to serve
the Queen.”
“Were it not for duty to another, whose claim comes first, nothing
could be more agreeable than to lend a lady in distress a helping
hand.”
“And who is he, who may prefer a claim to your services, in competition
with the majesty of these realms?” demanded Ludlow, with a little of
the pretension that, when speaking of its privileges, is apt to
distinguish the manner of one who has been accustomed to regard royalty
with reverence.
“Myself. When our affairs call us the same way no one can be readier
than I, to keep Her Majesty’s company; but——”
“This is presuming too far, on the trifling of a moment,” interrupted
Ludlow; “you know, sirrah, that I have the right to command your
services, without entering into a parley for them; and which,
notwithstanding your gay appearance, may, after all, be little worth
the trouble.”
“There is no need to push matters to extremity, between us, Captain
Ludlow,” resumed the stranger who had appeared to muse for a moment,
“If I have baffled your pursuit once to-day, it was perhaps to make my
merit in entering the ship freely, less undeniable. We are here alone,
and your honor will account it no boasting, if I say that a man, well
limbed and active, who stands six feet between plank and earline, is
not likely to be led against his will, like a yawl towing at the stern
of a four-and-forty. I am a seaman, sir; and though the ocean is my
home, I never venture on it without sufficient footing. Look abroad
from this hill, and say whether there is any craft in view, except the
cruiser of the Queen, which would be likely to suit the taste of a
mariner of the long voyage?”
“By which you would have me understand, you are here in quest of
service?”
“Nothing less; and though the opinion of a fore-mast Jack may be of
little value, you will not be displeased to hear, that I might look
further without finding a prettier sea-boat, or a swifter, than the one
which sails under your own orders. A seaman of your station, Captain
Ludlow, is not now to learn, that a man speaks differently, while his
name is his own, and after he has given it away to the crown; and
therefore I hope my present freedom will not be long remembered.”
“I have met men of your humor before, my friend, and I have not now to
learn, that a thorough man-of-war’s man is as impudent on shore, as he
is obedient afloat.—Is that a sail, in the offing, or is it the wing of
a sea-fowl, glittering in the sun?”
“It may be either,” observed the audacious mariner, turning his eye
leisurely towards the open ocean, “for we have a wide look-out from
this windy bluff. Here are gulls sporting above the waves, that turn
their feathers towards the light.”
“Look more seaward. That spot of shining white should be the canvas of
some craft, hovering in the offing!”
“Nothing more probable, in so light a breeze. Your coasters are in and
out, like water-rats on a wharf, at any hour of the twenty-four—and yet
to me it seems the comb of a breaking sea.”
“’Tis snow-white duck; such as your swift rover wears on his loftier
spars!”
“A duck that is flown,” returned the stranger drily, “for it is no
longer to be seen. These fly-aways, Captain Ludlow, give us seamen many
sleepless nights and idle chases. I was once running down the coast of
Italy, between the island of Corsica and the main, when one of these
delusions beset the crew, in a manner that hath taught me to put little
faith in eyes, unless backed by a clear horizon and a cool head.”
“I’ll hear the circumstance,” said Ludlow, withdrawing his gaze from
the distant ocean, like one who was satisfied his senses had been
deceived. “What of this marvel of the Italian seas?”
“A marvel truly, as your honor will confess, when I read you the
affair, much in the words I had it logged, for the knowledge of all
concerned. It was the last hour of the second dog-watch, on
Easter-Sunday, with the wind here at south-east, easterly. A light air
filled the upper canvas, and just gave us command of the ship. The
mountains of Corsica, with Monte Christo and Elba, had all been sunk
some hours, and we were on the yards, keeping a look-out for a
land-fall on the Roman coast. A low, thick bank of drifting fog lay
along the sea, in-shore of us, which all believed to be the sweat of
the land, and thought no more of; though none wished to enter it, for
that is a coast where foul airs rise, and through which the gulls and
land-birds refuse to fly. Well, here we lay, the mainsail in the
brails, the top-sails beating the mast-heads, like a maiden fanning
herself when she sees her lover, and nothing full but the upper duck,
with the sun fairly below the water in the western board. I was then
young, and quick of eye, as of foot, and therefore among the first to
see the sight!”
“Which was——?” said Ludlow, interested in spite of his assumed air of
indifference.
“Why, here just above the bank of foul air, that ever rests on that
coast, there was seen an object, that looked like ribs of bright light,
as if a thousand stars had quitted their usual berths in the heaven, to
warn us off the land, by a supernatural beacon. The sight was in itself
altogether out of nature and surprising. As the night thickened, it
grew brighter and more glowing, as if ’twere meant in earnest to warn
us from the coast. But when the word was passed to send the glasses
aloft, there was seen a glittering cross on high, and far above the
spars on which earthly ships carry their private signals.”
“This was indeed extraordinary! and what did you, to come at the
character of the heavenly symbol?”
“We wore off shore, and left it a clear berth for bolder mariners. Glad
enough was I to see, with the morning sun, the snowy hills of Corsica,
again!”
“And the appearance of that object was never explained?”
“Nor ever will be. I have since spoke with the mariners of that sea
concerning the sight, but never found any who could pretend to have
seen it. There was indeed one bold enough to say, there is a church,
far inland, of height and magnitude sufficient to be seen some leagues
at sea, and that, favored by our position and the mists that hung above
the low grounds, we had seen its upper works, looming above the fogs,
and lighted for some brilliant ceremony; but we were all too old in
seaman’s experience to credit so wild a tale. I know not but a church
may loom, as well as a hill or a ship; but he, who pretends to say,
that the hands of man can thus pile stones among the clouds, should be
certain of believers, ere he pushes the tale too far.”
“Your narrative is extraordinary, and the marvel should have been
looked into closer. It may truly have been a church, for there stands
an edifice at Rome, which towers to treble the height of a cruiser’s
masts.”
“Having rarely troubled churches, I know not why a church should
trouble me,” said the mariner of the sash, while he turned his back on
the ocean, as if indisposed to regard the waste of water longer. “It is
now twelve years since that sight was seen, and though a seaman of many
voyages, my eyes have not looked upon the Roman coast, from that hour
to this. Will your honor lead the way from the bluff, as becomes your
rank?”
“Your tale of the burning cross and looming church, Master Tiller, had
almost caused me to forget to watch the movements of yon periagua,”
returned Ludlow, who still continued to face the bay. “That obstinate
old Dutchman——I say, sir, that Mr. Alderman Van Beverout has greater
confidence in this description of craft than I feel myself. I like not
the looks of yonder cloud, which is rising from out the mouth of
Raritan; and here, seaward, we have a gloomy horizon.—By Heaven! there
is a sail playing in the offing or my eye hath lost its use and
judgment.”
“Your honor sees the wing of the sporting gull, again; it had been nigh
to deceive my sight, which would be to cheat the look-out of a man that
has the advantage of some ten or fifteen years’ more practice in marine
appearances. I remember once, when beating in among the islands of the
China seas, with the trades here at south-east——”
“Enough of your marvels, friend; the church is as much as I can
swallow, in one morning—It may have been a gull! for I confess the
object small; yet it had the steadiness and size of a distant sail!
There is some reason to expect one on our coast, for whom a bright and
seaman’s watch must be had.”
“This may then leave me a choice of ships,” rejoined Tiller. “I thank
your honor for having spoken, before I had given myself away to the
Queen; who is a lady that is much more apt to receive gifts of this
nature, than to return them.”
“If your respect aboard shall bear any proportion to your hardihood on
shore, you may be accounted a model of civility! But a mariner of your
pretension should have some regard to the character of the vessel in
which he takes service.”
“That of which your honor spoke, is then a buccaneer?”
“If not a buccaneer, one but little better. A lawless trader, under the
most favorable view; and there are those who think that he, who has
gone so far, has not stopt short of the end. But the reputation of the
‘Skimmer of the Seas’ must be known to one who has navigated the ocean,
long as you.”
“You will overlook the curiosity of a seafaring man, in a matter of his
profession,” returned the mariner of the sash, with strong and evident
interest in his manner. “I am lately from a distant ocean, and though
many tales of the buccaneers of the islands have been narrated, I do
not remember to have heard of that rover, before his name came into the
discourse between me and the schipper of the boat, that plies between
this landing and the city. I am not, altogether, what I seem, Captain
Ludlow; and when further acquaintance and hard service shall have
brought me more before the eyes of my commander, he may not repent
having induced a thorough seaman to enter his ship, by a little
condescension and good-nature shown while the man was still his own
master. Your honor will take no offence at my boldness, when I tell
you, I should be glad to know more of this unlawful trader.”
Ludlow riveted his eyes on the unmoved and manly countenance of his
companion. There was a vague and undefined suspicion in the look; but
it vanished, as the practised organs drank in the assurance, which so
much physical promise afforded, of the aid of a bold and active
mariner. Rather amused than offended by the freedom of the request, he
turned upon his heel, and as they descended the bluff, on their way
towards the place of landing, he continued the dialogue.
“You are truly from a distant ocean,” said the young captain of the
Coquette, smiling like a man who apologizes to himself for an act of
what he thought undue condescension, “if the exploits of a brigantine
known by the name of the ‘Water-Witch,’ and of him who commands her,
under the fit appellation of the ‘Skimmer of the Seas,’ have not yet
reached your ears. It is now five summers, since orders have been in
the colonies for the cruisers to be on the alert to hunt the picaroon;
and it is even said, the daring smuggler has often braved the pennants
of the narrow seas. ’Twould be a bigger ship, if not knighthood, to the
lucky officer who should catch the knave!”
“He must drive a money-gaining trade, to run these risks, and to brave
the efforts of so many skilful gentlemen! May I add to a presumption
that your honor already finds too bold, if one may judge by a
displeased eye, by asking if report speaks to the face and other
particulars of the person of this—freetrader, one must call him, though
freebooter should be a better word.”
“What matters the personal condition of a rogue?” said Captain Ludlow,
who perhaps remembered that the freedom of their intercourse had been
carried as far as comported with prudence.
“What matter, truly! I asked because the description answers a little
to that of a man I once knew, in the seas of farther India, and who has
long since disappeared, though no one can say whither he has gone. But
this ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ is some Spaniard of the Main, or perhaps a
Dutchman come from the country that is awash, in order to taste of
terra-firma?”
“Spaniard of the southern coast never carried so bold a sail in these
seas, nor was there ever known a Dutchman with so light a heel. The
fellow is said to laugh at the swiftest cruiser out of England! As to
his figure, I have heard little good of it. ’Tis said, he is some
soured officer of better days, who has quitted the intercourse of
honest men, because roguery is so plainly written on his face, that he
vainly tries to hide it.”
“Mine was a proper man, and one that need not have been ashamed to show
his countenance among his fellows,” said he of the sash. “This cannot
be the same, if indeed there be any on the coast.—Is’t known, your
honor, that the man is truly here?”
“So goes a rumor; though so many idle tales have led me before to seek
the smuggler where he was not, that I give but little faith to the
report.—The periagua has the wind more at west, and the cloud in the
mouth of the Raritan is breaking into scud. The Alderman will have a
lucky run of it!”
“And the gulls have gone more seaward—a certain sign of pleasant
weather;” returned the other, glancing a quick but keen look over the
horizon in the offing. “I believe our rover, with his light duck, has
taken flight among them!”
“We will then go in pursuit. My ship is bound to sea; and it is time,
Master Tiller, that I know in what berth you are willing to serve the
Queen.”
“God bless her Majesty! Anne is a royal lady and she had a Lord High
Admiral for her husband. As for a berth, sir, one always wishes to be
captain even though he may be compelled to eat his ration in the
lee-scuppers. I suppose the first-lieutenancy is filled, to your
honor’s liking?”
“Sirrah, this is trifling; one of your years and experience need not be
told, that commissions are obtained by service.”
“Under favor;—I confess the error. Captain Ludlow, you are a man of
honor, and will not deceive a sailor who puts trust in your word.”
“Sailor, or landsman, he is safe who has the gage.”
“Then, sir, I ask it. Suffer me to enter your ship; to look into my
future messmates, and to judge of their characters; to see if the
vessel suits my humor; and then to quit her, if I find it convenient.”
“Fellow,” said Ludlow, “this impudence almost surpasseth patience!”
“The request is reasonable, as can be shown;” gravely returned the
unknown mariner. “Now, Captain Ludlow of the Coquette would gladly tie
himself, for better for worse, to a fair lady who is lately gone on the
water, and yet there are thousands who might be had with less
difficulty.”
“Still deeper and deeper in thy effrontery—and what if this be true?”
“Sir, a ship is a seaman’s mistress—nay, when fairly under a pennant,
with a war declared, he may be said to be wedded to her, lawfully or
not. He becomes ‘bone of her bone, and flesh of her flesh, until death
doth them part.’ To such a long compact, there should be liberty of
choice. Has not your mariner a taste, as well as your lover? The
harpings and counter of his ship are the waist and shoulders; the
rigging, the ringlets; the cut and fit of the sails, the fashion of the
millinery; the guns are always called the teeth, and her paint is the
blush and bloom! Here is matter of choice, sir; and, without leave to
make it, I must wish your honor a happy cruise, and the Queen a better
servitor.”
“Why, Master Tiller,” cried Ludlow, laughing, “you trust too much to
these stunted oaks, if you believe it exceeds my power to hunt you out
of their cover, at pleasure. But I take you at your word. The Coquette
shall receive you on these conditions, and with the confidence that a
first-rate city belle would enter a country ball-room.”
“I follow in your honor’s wake, without more words,” returned he of the
sash, for the first time respectfully raising his canvas cap to the
young commander. “Though not actually married, consider me a man
betrothed.”
It is not necessary to pursue the discourse between the two seamen any
further. It was maintained, and with sufficient freedom on the part of
the inferior, until they reached the shore, and came in full view of
the pennant of the Queen; when, with the tact of an old man-of-war’s
man, he threw into his manner all the respect that was usually required
by the difference of rank.
Half an hour later, the Coquette was rolling at a single anchor, as the
puffs of wind came off the hills on her three top-sails; and shortly
after, she was seen standing through the Narrows, with a fresh
southwesterly breeze. In all these movements, there was nothing to
attract attention. Notwithstanding the sarcastic allusions of Alderman
Van Beverout, the cruiser was far from being idle; and her passage
outward was a circumstance of so common occurrence, that it excited no
comment among the boatmen of the bay, and the coasters, who alone
witnessed her departure.