“—Aye, that way goes the game,
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures—”
Midsummer Night’s Dream.
The tide of existence floats downward, and with it go, in their
greatest strength, all those affections that unite families and
kindred. We learn to know our parents in the fullness of their reason,
and commonly in the perfection of their bodily strength. Reverence and
respect both mingle with our love; but the affection, with which we
watch the helplessness of infancy, the interest with which we see the
ingenuous and young profiting by our care, the pride of improvement,
and the magic of hope, create an intensity of sympathy in their favor,
that almost equals the identity of self-love. There is a mysterious and
double existence, in the tie that binds the parent to the child. With a
volition and passions of its own, the latter has power to plant a sting
in the bosom of the former, that shall wound as acutely as the errors
which arise from mistakes, almost from crimes, of its own. But, when
the misconduct of the descendant can be traced to neglect, or to a
vicious instruction, then, indeed, even the pang of a wounded
conscience may be added to the sufferings of those who have gone
before. Such, in some measure, was the nature of the pain that Alderman
Van Beverout was condemned to feel, when at leisure to reflect on the
ill-judged measure that had been taken by la belle Barbérie.
“She was a pleasant and coaxing minx, Patroon,” said the burgher,
pacing the room they occupied, with a quick and heavy step, and
speaking unconsciously of his niece, as of one already beyond the
interests of life; “and as wilful and headstrong as an unbroken
colt.—Thou hard-riding imp! I shall never find a match for the poor
disconsolate survivor.—But the girl had a thousand agreeable and
delightful ways with her, that made her the delight of my old days. She
has not done wisely, to desert the friend and guardian of her youth,
aye, even of her childhood, in order to seek protection from strangers.
This is an unhappy world, Mr. Van Staats! All our calculations come to
nought; and it is in the power of fortune to reverse the most
reasonable and wisest of our expectations. A gale of wind drives the
richly-freighted ship to the bottom; a sudden fall in the market robs
us of our gold, as the November wind strips the oak of its leaves; and
bankruptcies and decayed credit often afflict the days of the oldest
houses, as disease saps the strength of the body:—Alida! Alida! thou
hast wounded one that never harmed thee, and rendered my age
miserable!”
“It is vain to contend with the inclinations,” returned the proprietor
of the manor, sighing in a manner that did no discredit to the
sincerity of his remark. “I could have been happy to have placed your
niece in the situation that my respected mother filled with so much
dignity and credit, but it is now too late——”
“We don’t know that;—we don’t know that;” interrupted the Alderman, who
still clung to the hope of effecting the first great wish of his heart,
with the pertinacity with which he would have clung to the terms of any
other fortunate bargain. “We should never despair, Mr. Van Staats, as
long as the transaction is left open.”
“The manner in which Mademoiselle Barbérie has expressed her
preference, is so very decided, that I see no hope of completing the
arrangement.”
“Mere coquetry, sir, mere coquetry! The girl has disappeared in order
to enhance the value of her future submission. One should never regard
a treaty at an end, so long as reasonable hopes remain that it may be
productive to the parties.”
“I fear, sir, there is more of the coquette in this step of the young
lady, than a gentleman can overlook,” returned the Patroon a little
dryly, and with far more point than he was accustomed to use. “If the
commander of Her Majesty’s cruiser be not a happy man, he will not have
occasion to reproach his mistress with disdain!”
“I am not certain, Mr. Van Staats, that in the actual situation of our
stipulations, I ought to overlook an innuendo that seems to reflect on
the discretion of my ward. Captain Ludlow——well, sirrah! what is the
meaning of this impertinence?”
“He’m waiting to see Masser,” returned the gaping Erasmus, who stood
with the door in his hand, admiring the secret intelligence of his
master, who had so readily anticipated his errand.
“Who is waiting?—What does the simpleton mean?”
“I mean a gentle’um Masser say.”
“The fortunate man is here to remind us of his success,” haughtily
observed Van Staats of Kinderhook. “There can be no necessity of my
presence at an interview between Alderman Van Beverout and his nephew.”
The justly-mortified Patroon bowed ceremoniously to the equally
disappointed burgher, and left the room the moment he had done
speaking. The negro took his retreat as a favorable symptom for one who
was generally known to be his rival; and he hastened to inform the
young captain, that the coast was clear.
The meeting, that instantly succeeded, was sufficiently constrained and
awkward. Alderman Van Beverout assumed a manner of offended authority
and wounded affection; while the officer of the Queen wore an air of
compelled submission to a duty that he found to be disagreeable. The
introduction of the discourse was consequently ceremonious, and
punctiliously observant of courtesy.
“It has become my office,” continued Ludlow, after the preliminaries
had been observed, to express the surprise I feel, that a vessel of the
exceedingly equivocal appearance of the brigantine, that is anchored in
the Cove, should be found in a situation to create unpleasant
suspicions concerning the commercial propriety of a merchant so well
known as Mr. Alderman Van Beverout.”
“The credit of Myndert Van Beverout is too well established, Captain
Cornelius Ludlow, to be affected by the accidental position of ships
and bays. I see two vessels anchored near the Lust in Rust, and if
called upon to give my testimony before the Queen in Council, I should
declare that the one which wears her royal pennant had done more wrong
to her subjects than the stranger. But what harm is known of the
latter?”
“I shall not conceal any of the facts; for I feel that this is a case,
in which a gentleman of your station has the fullest right to the
benefit of explanations——”
“Hem—” interrupted the burgher, who disliked the manner in which his
companion had opened the interview, and who thought he saw the
commencement of a forced compromise in the turn it was taking;—“Hem—I
commend your moderation, Captain Ludlow. Sir, we are flattered in
having a native of the Province in so honorable a command on the coast.
Be seated, I pray you, young gentleman, that we may converse more at
leisure. The Ludlows are an ancient and well-established family in the
colonies; and though they were no friends of King Charles, why—we have
others here in the same predicament. There are few crowns in Europe
that might not trace some of their discontented subjects to these
colonies; and the greater the reason, say I, why we should not be too
hasty in giving faith to the wisdom of this European legislation. I do
not pretend, sir, to admire all the commercial regulations which flow
from the wisdom of Her Majesty’s counsellors. Candor forbids that I
should deny this truth: but—what of the brigantine in the Cove?”
“It is not necessary to tell one so familiar with the affairs of
commerce, of the character of a vessel called the Water-Witch, nor of
that of its lawless commander, the notorious ‘Skimmer of the Seas.’”
“Captain Ludlow is not about to accuse Alderman Van Beverout of a
connexion with such a man!” exclaimed the burgher, rising as it were
involuntarily, and actually recoiling a foot or two, apparently under
the force of indignation and surprise.
“Sir, I am not commissioned to accuse any of the Queen’s subjects. My
duty is to guard her interests on the water, to oppose her open
enemies, and to uphold her royal prerogatives.”
“An honorable employment, and one I doubt not that is honorably
discharged. Resume your seat, sir; for I foresee that the conference is
likely to end as it should, between a son of the late very respectable
King’s counsellor and his father’s friend. You have reason then for
thinking that this brigantine, which has so suddenly appeared in the
Cove, has some remote connexion with the Skimmer of the Seas?”
“I believe the vessel to be the famous Water-Witch itself, and her
commander to be, of course, that well-known adventurer.”
“Well, sir—well, sir—this may be so. It is impossible for me to deny
it—but what should such a reprobate be doing here, under the guns of a
Queen’s cruiser?”
“Mr. Alderman, my admiration of your niece is not unknown to you.”
“I have suspected it, sir;” returned the burgher, who believed the
tenor of the compromise was getting clearer, but who still waited to
know the exact value of the concessions the other party would make,
before he closed a bargain, in a hurry, of which he might repent at his
leisure—“Indeed, it has even been the subject of some discourse between
us.”
“This admiration induced me to visit your villa, the past night,——”
“This is a fact too well established, young gentleman.”
“Whence I took away——” Ludlow hesitated, as if anxious to select his
words—
“Alida Barbérie.”
“Alida Barbérie!”
“Aye, sir; my niece, or perhaps I should say my heiress, as well as the
heiress of old Etienne de Barbérie. The cruise was short, Captain
Cornelius Ludlow; but the prize-money will be ample—unless, indeed, a
claim to neutral privileges should be established in favor of part of
the cargo!”
“Sir, your pleasantry is amusing, but I have little leisure for its
enjoyment. That I visited the Cour des Fées, shall not be denied. I
think la belle Barbérie will not be offended, under the circumstances,
with this acknowledgment.”
“If she is, the jade has a rare squeamishness, after what has passed!”
“I pretend not to judge of more than my duty. The desire to serve my
royal mistress had induced me, Mr. Van Beverout, to cause a seaman of
odd attire and audacious deportment to enter the Coquette. You will
know the man, when I tell you that he was your companion in the island
ferry-boat.”
“Yes, yes, I confess there was a mariner of the long voyage there, who
caused much surprise, and some uneasiness, to myself and niece, as well
as to Van Staats of Kinderhook.”
Ludlow smiled, like one not to be deceived, as he continued.
“Well, sir, this man so far succeeded, as to tempt me to suffer him to
land, under the obligation of some half-extorted promise—we came into
the river together, and entered your grounds in company.”
Alderman Van Beverout now began to listen like a man who dreaded, while
he desired to catch, each syllable. Observing that Ludlow paused, and
watched his countenance with a cool and steady eye, he recovered his
self-command, and affected a mere ordinary curiosity, while he signed
to him to proceed.
“I am not sure I tell Alderman Van Beverout anything that is new,”
resumed the young officer, “when I add, that the fellow suffered me to
visit the pavilion, and then contrived to lead me into an ambush of
lawless men, having previously succeeded in making captives of my
boat’s-crew.”
“Seizures and warrants!” exclaimed the burgher in his natural strong
and hasty manner of speaking.
“This is the first I have heard of the affair. It was ill-judged, to
call it by no other term.”
Ludlow seemed relieved, when he saw, by the undisguised amazement of
his companion, that the latter was, in truth, ignorant of the matter in
which he had been detained.
“It might not have been, sir, had our watch been as vigilant as their
artifice was deep,” he continued. “But I was little guarded, and having
no means to reach my ship, I—”
“Aye, aye, Captain Ludlow; it is not necessary to be so circumstantial;
you proceeded to the wharf, and——”
“Perhaps, sir, I obeyed my feelings, rather than my duty,” observed
Ludlow, coloring high, when he perceived that the burgher paused to
clear his throat “I returned to the pavilion, where——”
“You persuaded a niece to forget her duty to her uncle and protector.”
“This is a harsh and most unjustifiable charge, both as respects the
young lady and myself. I can distinguish between a very natural desire
to possess articles of commerce that are denied by the laws and a more
deliberate and mercenary plot against the revenue of the country. I
believe there are few of her years and sex, who would refuse to
purchase the articles I saw presented to the eyes of la belle Barbérie,
especially when the utmost hazard could be no more than their loss, as
they were already introduced into the country.”
“A just discrimination, and one likely to render the arrangement of our
little affairs less difficult! I was sure that my old friend the
counsellor would not have left a son of his ignorant of principles,
more especially as he was about to embark in a profession of so much
responsibility.—And so, my niece had the imprudence to entertain a
dealer in contraband?”
“Alderman Van Beverout, there were boats in motion on the water,
between this landing and the brigantine in the Cove. A periagua even
left the river for the city, at the extraordinary hour of midnight!”
“Sir, boats will move on the water, when the hands of man set them in
motion; but what have I to answer for in the matter? If goods have
entered the Province, without license, why, they must be found and
condemned; and if free-traders are on the coast, they should be caught.
Would it not be well to proceed to town, and lay the fact of this
strange brigantine’s presence before the Governor, without delay?”
“I have other intentions. If, as you say, goods have gone up the bay,
it is too late for me to stop them; but it is not too late to attempt
to seize yon brigantine. Now, I would perform this duty in a manner as
little likely to offend any of reputable name, as my allegiance will
admit.”
“Sir, I extol this discretion—not that there is any testimony to
implicate more than the crew, but credit is a delicate flower, and it
should be handled tenderly. I see an opening for an arrangement—but, we
will, as in duty bound, hear your propositions first, since you may be
said to speak with the authority of the Queen. I will merely surmise
that terms should be moderate, between friends;—perhaps I should say,
between connexions, Captain Ludlow.”
“I am flattered by the word, sir,” returned the young sailor, smiling
with an expression of delight. “First suffer me to be admitted to the
charming Cour des Fées, but for a moment.”
“That is a favor which can hardly be refused you, who may be said to
have a right, now, to enter the pavilion at pleasure,” returned the
Alderman, unhesitatingly leading the way through the long passage to
the deserted apartments of his niece, and continuing the blind
allusions to the affairs of the preceding night, in the same indirect
manner as had distinguished the dialogue during the whole interview. “I
shall not be unreasonable, young gentleman, and here is the pavilion of
my niece; I wish I could add, and here also is its mistress!”
“And is la belle Barbérie no longer a tenant of la Cour des Fées!”
demanded Ludlow, in a surprise too natural to be feigned.
Alderman Van Beverout regarded the young man in wonder; pondered a
moment, to consider how far denying a knowledge of the absence of his
niece might benefit the officer, in the pending negotiation; and then
he dryly observed, “Boats passed on the water, during the night. If the
men of Captain Ludlow were at first imprisoned, I presume they were set
at liberty at the proper time.”
“They are carried I know not whither—the boat itself is gone, and I am
here alone.”
“Am I to understand, Captain Ludlow, that Alida Barbérie has not fled
my house, during the past night, to seek a refuge in your ship?”
“Fled!” echoed the young man, in a voice of horror. “Has Alida de
Barbérie fled from the house of her uncle, at all?”
“Captain Ludlow, this is not acting. On the honor of a gentleman, are
you ignorant of my niece’s absence?”
The young commander did not answer; but, striking his head fiercely, he
smothered words that were unintelligible to his companion. When this
momentary burst of feeling was past, he sunk into a chair, and gazed
about him in stupid amazement. All this pantomime was inexplicable to
the Alderman, who, however, began to see that more of the conditions of
the arrangement in hand were beyond the control of his companion, than
he had at first believed. Still the plot thickened, rather than grew
clear; and he was afraid to speak, lest he might utter more than was
prudent. The silence, therefore, continued for quite a minute; during
which time, the parties sat gazing at each other in dull wonder.
“I shall not deny, Captain Ludlow, that I believed you had prevailed on
my niece to fly aboard the Coquette; for, though a man who has always
kept his feelings in his own command, as the safest manner of managing
particular interests, yet I am not to learn that rash youth is often
guilty of folly. I am now equally at a loss with yourself, to know what
has become of her, since here she is not.”
“Hold!” eagerly interrupted Ludlow. “A boat left your wharf, for the
city, in the earlier hours of the morning. Is it not possible that she
may have taken a passage in it?”
“It is not possible. I have reasons to know—in short, sir, she is not
there.”
“Then is the unfortunate—the lovely—the indiscreet girl for ever lost
to herself and us!” exclaimed the young sailor, actually groaning under
his mental agony. “Rash, mercenary man! to what an act of madness has
this thirst of gold driven one so fair—would I could say, so pure and
so innocent!”
But while the distress of the lover was thus violent, and caused him to
be so little measured in his terms of reproach, the uncle of the fair
offender appeared to be lost in surprise. Though la belle Barbérie had
so well preserved the decorum and reserve of her sex, as to leave even
her suitors in doubt of the way her inclinations tended, the watchful
Alderman had long suspected that the more ardent, open, and manly
commander of the Coquette was likely to triumph over one so cold in
exterior, and so cautious in his advances, as the Patroon of
Kinderhook. When, therefore, it became apparent Alida had disappeared,
he quite naturally inferred that she had taken the simplest manner of
defeating all his plans for favoring the suit of the latter, by
throwing herself, at once, into the arms of the young sailor. The laws
of the colonies offered few obstacles to the legality of their union;
and when Ludlow appeared that morning, he firmly believed that he
beheld one, who, if he were not so already, was inevitably soon to
become his nephew. But the suffering of the disappointed youth could
not be counterfeited; and, prevented from adhering to his first
opinion, the perplexed Alderman seemed utterly at a loss to conjecture
what could have become of his niece. Wonder, rather than pain,
possessed him; and when he suffered his ample chin to repose on the
finger and thumb of one hand, it was with the air of a man that
revolved, in his mind, all the plausible points of some knotty
question.
“Holes and corners!” he muttered, after a long silence; “the wilful
minx cannot be playing at hide-and-seek with her friends! The hussy had
ever too much of la famille de Barbérie, and her high Norman blood
about her, as that silly old valet has it, to stoop to such childish
trifling. Gone she certainly is,” he continued, looking, again, into
the empty drawers and closets, “and with her the valuables have
disappeared. The guitar is missing—the lute I sent across the ocean to
purchase, an excellently-toned Dutch lute, that cost every stiver of
one hundred guilders, is also wanting, and all the—hem—the recent
accessions have disappeared. And there, too, are my sister’s jewels,
that I persuaded her to bring along, to guard against accidents while
our backs are turned, they are not to be seen. François! François! Thou
long-tried servitor of Etienne Barbérie, what the devil has become of
thy mistress?”
“Mais, Monsieur,” returned the disconsolate valet, whose decent
features exhibited all the signs of unequivocal suffering, “she no tell
le pauvre François! En supposant, que Monsieur ask le capitaine, he
shall probablement know.”
The burgher cast a quick suspicious glance at Ludlow, and shook his
head, to express his belief that the young man was true.
“Go; desire Mr. Van Staats of Kinderhook to favor us with his company.”
“Hold,” cried Ludlow, motioning to the valet to withdraw. “Mr.
Beverout, an uncle should be tender of the errors of one so dear as
this cruel, unreflecting girl. You cannot think of abandoning her to so
frightful a fortune!”
“I am not addicted to abandoning anything, sir, to which my title is
just and legal. But you speak in enigmas. If you are acquainted with
the place where my niece is secreted, avow it frankly, and permit me to
take those measures which the case requires.”
Ludlow reddened to his forehead, and he struggled powerfully with his
pride and his regrets.
“It is useless to attempt concealing the step which Alida Barbérie has
been pleased to take,” he said, a smile so bitter passing over his
features, as to lend them the expression of severe mockery; “she has
chosen more worthily than either of us could have believed; she has
found a companion more suited to her station, her character, and her
sex, than Van Staats of Kinderhook, or a poor commander of a Queen’s
ship!”
“Cruisers and manors! What in the name of mysteries is thy meaning? The
girl is not here; you declare she is not on board of the Coquette, and
there remains only——”
“The brigantine!” groaned the young sailor uttering the word by a
violent effort of the will.
“The brigantine!” repeated the Alderman, slowly. “My niece can have
nothing to do aboard a dealer in contraband. That is to say, Alida
Barbérie is not a trader.”
“Alderman Van Beverout, if we wish to escape the contamination of vice,
its society must be avoided. There was one in the pavilion, of a mien
and assurance the past night, that might delude an angel. Ah! woman!
woman! thy mind is composed of vanities, and thy imagination is thy
bitterest foe!”
“Women and vanities!” echoed the amazed burgher. “My niece, the heiress
of old Etienne Marie de Barbérie, and the sought of so many of
honorable names and respectable professions, to be a refugee with a
rover!—always supposing your opinions of the character of the
brigantine to be just. This is a conjecture too improbable to be true.”
“The eye of a lover, sir, may be keener than that of a guardian—call it
jealousy, if you will,—would to Heaven my suspicions were untrue!—but
if she be not there, where is she?”
The opinion of the Alderman seemed staggered. If la belle Barbérie had
not yielded to the fascinations of that wayward, but seductive, eye and
smile, to that singular beauty of face, and to the secret and often
irresistible charm that encircles eminent personal attractions, when
aided by mystery, to what had she yielded, and whither had she fled?
These were reflections that now began to pass through the thoughts of
the Alderman, as they had already planted stings in the bosom of
Ludlow. With reflection, conviction began slowly to assert its power.
But the truth did not gleam upon the mind of the calculating and wary
merchant, with the same instinctive readiness that it had flashed upon
the jealous faculties of the lover. He pondered on each circumstance of
the interview between the dealer in contraband and his niece; recalled
the manner and discourse of the former; drew certain general and vague
conjectures concerning the power which novelty, when coupled with
circumstances of romance, might exercise over a female fancy; and dwelt
long and secretly on some important facts that were alone known to
himself,—before his judgment finally settled down into the same
opinion, as that which his companion had formed, with all the
sensitiveness of jealous alarm.
“Women and vagaries!” muttered the burgher, after his study was ended.
“Their conceits are as uncertain as the profits of a whaling voyage, or
the luck of a sportsman. Captain Ludlow, your assistance will be needed
in this affair; and, as it may not be too late, since there are few
priests in the brigantine—always supposing her character to be what you
affirm—my niece may yet see her error, and be disposed to reward so
much assiduity and attachment.”
“My services shall always be ready, so long as they can be useful to
Alida Barbérie,” returned the young officer with haste, and yet a
little coldly. “It will be time enough to speak of the reward, when we
shall have succeeded.”
“The less noise that is made about a little domestic inconvenience like
this, the better; and I would therefore suggest the propriety of
keeping our suspicions of the character of the vessel a secret, until
we shall be better informed.”
The captain bowed his assent to the proposal.
“And now that we are of the same mind in the preliminaries, we will
seek the Patroon of Kinderhook, who has a claim to participate in our
confidence.”
Myndert then led the way from the empty and melancholy Cour des Fées,
with a step that had regained its busy and firm tread, and a
countenance that expressed far more of vexation and weariness, than of
real sorrow.