“Sirs, take your places, and be vigilant.”
Henry IV.
The succeeding day was one in which the weather had a fixed character.
The wind was east, and, though light, not fluctuating. The air had that
thick and hazy appearance, which properly belongs to the Autumn in this
climate, but which is sometimes seen at midsummer, when a dry wind
blows from the ocean. The roll of the surf, on the shore, was regular
and monotonous, and the currents of the air were so steady as to remove
every apprehension of a change. The moment to which the action of the
tale is transferred, was in the earlier hours of the afternoon.
At that time the Coquette lay again at her anchors, just within the
shelter of the cape. There were a few small sails to be seen passing up
the bay; but the scene, as was common at that distant day, presented
little of the activity of our own times, to the eye. The windows of the
Lust in Rust were again open, and the movement of the slaves, in and
about the villa, announced the presence of its master.
The Alderman was in truth, at the hour named, passing the little lawn
in front of la Cour des Fées, accompanied by Oloff Van Staats and the
commander of the cruiser. It was evident, by the frequent glances which
the latter threw in the direction of the pavilion, that he still
thought of her who was absent; while the faculties of the two others
were either in better subjection, or less stimulated by anxiety. One
who understood the character of the individual, and who was acquainted
with the past, might have suspected, by this indifference on the part
of the Patroon, placed as it was in such a singular contrast to a sort
of mysterious animation which enlivened a countenance whose ordinary
expression was placid content, that the young suitor thought less than
formerly of the assets of old Etienne, and more of the secret pleasure
he found in the singular incidents of which he had been a witness.
“Propriety and discretion!” observed the burgher, in reply to a remark
of one of the young men—“I say again, for the twentieth time, that we
shall have Alida Barbérie back among us, as handsome, as innocent, aye,
and as rich, as ever!—perhaps I should also say, as wilful. A baggage,
to worry her old uncle, and two honorable suitors, in so thoughtless a
manner! Circumstances, gentlemen,” continued the wary merchant, who saw
that the value of the hand of which he had to dispose, was somewhat
reduced in the market, “have placed you on a footing, in my esteem.
Should my niece, after all, prefer Captain Ludlow for a partner in her
worldly affairs, why it should not weaken friendship between the son of
old Stephanus Van Staats and Myndert Van Beverout. Our grandmothers
were cousins, and there should be charities in the same blood.”
“I could not wish to press my suit,” returned the Patroon, “when the
lady has given so direct a hint that it is disagreeable—”
“Hint me no hints! Do you call this caprice of a moment, this trifling,
as the captain here would call it, with the winds and tides, a hint!
The girl has Norman blood in her veins, and she wishes to put animation
into the courtship. If bargains were to be interrupted by a little
cheapening of the buyer, and some affectation of waiting for a better
market in the seller, Her Majesty might as well order her custom-houses
to be closed at once, and look to other sources for revenue. Let the
girl’s fancy have its swing, and the profits of a year’s peltry against
thy rent-roll, we shall see her penitent for her folly, and willing to
hear reason. My sister’s daughter is no witch, to go journeying for
ever about the world, on a broomstick!”
“There is a tradition in our family,” said Oloff Van Staats, his eye
lighting with a mysterious excitement, while he affected to laugh at
the folly he uttered, “that the great Poughkeepsie fortune-teller
foretold, in the presence of my grandmother, that a Patroon of
Kinderhook should intermarry with a witch. So, should I see la Belle in
the position you name, it would not greatly alarm me.”
“The prophecy was fulfilled at the wedding of thy father!” muttered
Myndert, who, notwithstanding the outward levity with which he treated
the subject, was not entirely free from secret reverence for the
provincial soothsayers, some of whom continued in high repute, even to
the close of the last century. “His son would not else have been so
clever a youth! But here is Captain Ludlow looking at the ocean, as if
he expected to see my niece rise out of the water, in the shape of a
mermaid.”
The commander of the Coquette pointed to the object which attracted his
gaze, and which, appearing as it did at that moment, was certainly not
of a nature to lessen the faith of either of his companions in
supernatural agencies.
It has been said that the wind was dry and the air misty, or rather so
pregnant with a thin haze, as to give it the appearance of a dull,
smoky light. In such a state of the weather, the eye, more especially
of one placed on an elevation, is unable to distinguish what is termed
the visible horizon at sea. The two elements become so blended, that
our organs cannot tell where the water ends, or where the void of the
heavens commences. It is a consequence of this in distinctness, that
any object seen beyond the apparent boundary of water, has the
appearance of floating in the air. It is rare for the organs of a
landsman to penetrate beyond the apparent limits of the sea, when the
atmosphere exhibits this peculiarity, though the practised eye of a
mariner often detects vessels, which are hid from others, merely
because they are not sought in the proper place. The deception may also
be aided by a slight degree of refraction.
“Here;” said Ludlow, pointing in a line that would have struck the
water some two or three leagues in the offing. “First bring the chimney
of yonder low building on the plain, in a range with the dead oak on
the shore, and then raise your eyes slowly, till they strike a sail.”
“That ship is navigating the heavens!” exclaimed Myndert! “Thy
grandmother was a sensible woman, Patroon; she was a cousin of my pious
progenitor, and there is no knowing what two clever old ladies, in
their time, may have heard and seen, when such sights as this are
beheld in our own!”
“I am as little disposed as another, to put faith in incredible
things,” gravely returned Oloff Van Staats; “and yet, if required to
give my testimony, I should be reluctant to say, that yonder vessel is
not floating in the heavens!”
“You might not give it to that effect, in safety;” said Ludlow. “It is
no other than a half-rigged brigantine, on a taut bowline, though she
bears no great show of canvas. Mr. Van Beverout, Her Majesty’s cruiser
is about to put to sea.”
Myndert heard this declaration in visible dissatisfaction. He spoke of
the virtue of patience, and of the comforts of the solid ground; but
when he found the intention of the Queen’s servant was not to be
shaken, he reluctantly professed an intention of repeating the personal
experiment of the preceding day. Accordingly, within half an hour, the
whole party were on the banks of the Shrewsbury, and about to embark in
the barge of the Coquette.
“Adieu, Monsieur François;” said the Alderman nodding his head to the
ancient valet, who stood with a disconsolate eye on the shore. “Have a
care of the movables in la Cour des Fées; we may have further use for
them.”
“Mais, Monsieur Beevre, mon devoir, et, ma foi, suppose la mèr was plus
agréable, mon désir shall be to suivre Mam’selle Alide. Jamais personne
de la famille Barbérie love de sea; mais, Monsieur, comment faire? I
shall die sur la mèr de douleur; and I shall die d’ennui, to rester
ici, bien sûr!”
“Come then, faithful François,” said Ludlow. “You shall follow your
young mistress; and perhaps, on further trial, you may be disposed to
think the lives of us seamen more tolerable than you had believed.”
After an eloquent expression of countenance, in which the
secretly-amused though grave-looking boat’s-crew thought the old man
was about to give a specimen of his powers of anticipation, the
affectionate domestic entered the barge. Ludlow felt for his distress,
and encouraged him by a look of approbation. The language of kindness
does not always need a tongue; and the conscience of the valet smote
him with the idea that he might have expressed himself too strongly,
concerning a profession to which the other had devoted life and hopes.
“La mèr, Monsieur le Capitaine,” he said, with an acknowledging
reverence, “est un vaste théâtre de la gloire. Voilà Messieurs de
Tourville et Dougay Trouin; ce sont des hommes, vraiment remarquables!
mais Monsieur, quant à toute la famille de Barbérie, we have toujours
un sentiment plus favorable pour la terre.”
“I wish your whimsical jade of a mistress, Master François, had found
the same sentiment,” dryly observed Myndert: “for let me tell you, this
cruising about in a suspicious vessel is as little creditable to her
judgment as—cheer up, Patroon; the girl is only putting thy mettle to
the trial, and the sea air will do no damage to her complexion or her
pocket. A little predilection for salt water must raise the girl in
your estimation, Captain Ludlow!”
“If the predilection goes no further than to the element, sir;” was the
caustic answer. “But, deluded or not, erring or deceived, Alida
Barbérie is not to be deserted, the victim of a villain’s arts. I did
love your niece, Mr. Van Beverout, and—pull with a will, men; fellows,
are you sleeping on the oars?”
The sudden manner in which the young man interrupted himself, and the
depth of tone in which he spoke to the boat’s crew, put an end to the
discourse. It was apparent that he wished to say no more, and that he
even regretted the weakness which had induced him to say so much. The
remainder of the distance, between the shore and the ship, was passed
in silence.
When Queen Anne’s cruiser was seen doubling Sandy-Hook, past meridian
on the 6th June (sea-time) in the year 17—, the wind, as stated in an
ancient journal, which was kept by one of the midshipmen, and is still
in existence, was light, steady at south, and by west-half-west. It
appears, by the same document, that the vessel took her departure at
seven o’clock, P.M., the point of Sandy-Hook bearing west-half-south,
distant three leagues. On the same page which contains these
particulars, it is observed, under the head of remarks—“Ship under
starboard steering-sails, forward and aft, making six knots. A
suspicious half-rigged brigantine lying-to on the eastern board, under
her mainsail, with fore-top-sail to the mast; light and lofty sails and
jib loose; foresail in the brails. Her starboard steering-sail-booms
appear to be rigged out, and the gear rove, ready for a run. This
vessel is supposed to be the celebrated hermaphrodite, the Water-Witch,
commanded by the notorious ‘Skimmer of the Seas,’ and the same fellow
who gave us so queer a slip, yesterday. The Lord send us a cap-full of
wind, and we’ll try his heels, before morning!—Passengers, Alderman Van
Beverout, of the second ward of the City of New-York, in Her Majesty’s
province of the same name; Oloff Van Staats, Esq. commonly called the
Patroon of Kinderhook, of the same colony; and a qualmish-looking old
chap, in a sort of marine’s jacket, who answers when hailed as Francis.
A rum set taken altogether, though they seem to suit the Captain’s
fancy. Mem.—Each lipper of a wave works like tartar emetic on the lad
in marine gear.”
As no description of ours can give a more graphic account of the
position of the two vessels in question, at the time named, than that
which is contained in the foregoing extract, we shall take up the
narrative at that moment, which the reader will see must, in the 43d
degree of latitude, and in the month of June have been shortly after
the close of the day.
The young votary of Neptune, whose opinions have just been quoted, had
indeed presumed on his knowledge of the localities, in affirming the
distance and position of the cape, since the low sandy point was no
longer visible from the deck. The sun had set, as seen from the vessel,
precisely in the mouth of the Raritan; and the shadows from Navesink,
or Neversink as the hills are vulgarly called, were thrown far upon the
sea. In short, the night was gathering round the mariners, with every
appearance of settled and mild weather, but of a darkness deeper than
is common on the ocean. Under such circumstances, the great object was
to keep on the track of the chase, during the time when she must
necessarily be hid from their sight.
Ludlow walked into the lee-gangway of his ship, and, leaning with his
elbow on the empty hammock-cloths, he gazed long and in silence at the
object of his pursuit. The Water-Witch was lying in the quarter of the
horizon most favorable to being seen. The twilight, which still fell
out of the heavens, was without glare in that direction; and for the
first time that day, he saw her in her true proportions. The admiration
of a seaman was blended with the other sensations of the young man. The
brigantine lay in the position that exhibited her exquisitely-moulded
hull and rakish rig to the most advantage. The head, having come to the
wind, was turned towards her pursuer; and as the bows rose on some
swell that was heavier than common, Ludlow saw, or fancied he saw, the
mysterious image still perched on her cut-water, holding the book to
the curious, and ever pointing with its finger across the waste of
water. A movement of the hammock-cloths caused the young sailor to bend
his head aside, and he then saw that the master had drawn as near to
his person as discipline would warrant. Ludlow had a great respect for
the professional attainments that his inferior unquestionably
possessed; and he was not without some consideration for the chances of
a fortune, which had not done much to reward the privations and the
services of a seaman old enough to be his father. The recollection of
these facts always disposed him to be indulgent to a man who had
little, beyond his seaman-like character and long experience, to
recommend him.
“We are likely to have a thick night, Master Trysail,” said the young
captain, without deeming it necessary to change his look, “and we may
yet be brought on a bowline, before yonder insolent is overhauled.”
The master smiled, like one who knew more than he expressed, and
gravely shook his head.
“We may have many pulls on our bowlines, and some squaring of yards,
too, before the Coquette (the figure-head of the sloop-of-war was also
a female) gets near enough to the dark-faced woman, under the bowsprit
of the brigantine, to whisper her mind. You and I have been nigh enough
to see the white of her eyes, and to count the teeth she shows, in that
cunning grin of hers,—and what good has come of our visit? I am but a
subordinate, Captain Ludlow, and I know my duty too well not to be
silent in a squall, and I hope too well not to know how to speak when
my commander wishes the opinions of his officers at a council; and
therefore mine, just now, is perhaps different from that of some others
in this ship, that I will not name, who are good men, too, though none
of the oldest.”
“And what is thy opinion, Trysail?—the ship is doing well, and she
carries her canvas bravely.”
“The ship behaves like a well-bred young woman in the presence of the
Queen; modest, but stately—but, of what use is canvas, in a chase where
witchcraft breeds squalls, and shortens sail in one vessel, while it
gives flying kites to another! If Her Majesty, God bless her! should be
ever persuaded to do so silly a thing as to give old Tom Trysail a
ship, and the said ship lay, just here-a-way, where the Coquette is now
getting along so cleverly, why then, as in duty bound, I know very well
what her commander would do——”
“Which would be——?”
“To, in all studding-sails, and bring the vessel on the wind.”
“That would be to carry you to the southward, while the chase lies here
in the eastern board!”
“Who can say, how long she will lie there? They told us, in York, that
there was a Frenchman, of our burthen and metal, rummaging about among
the fishermen, lower down on the coast. Now, sir, no man knows that the
war is half over better than myself, for not a ha’penny of prize-money
has warmed my pocket, these three years;—but, as I was saying, if a
Frenchman will come off his ground, and will run his ship into troubled
water, why—whose fault is it but his own? A pretty affair might be made
out of such a mistake, Captain Ludlow; whereas running after yonder
brigantine, is napping out the Queen’s canvas for nothing. The vessel’s
bottom will want new sheathing, in my poor opinion, before you catch
him.”
“I know not, Trysail,” returned his captain, glancing an eye aloft;
“everything draws, and the ship never went along with less trouble to
herself. We shall not know which has the longest legs, till the trial
is made.”
“You may judge of the rogue’s speed by his impudence. There he lies,
waiting for us, like a line-of-battle ship lying-to for an enemy to
come down. Though a man of some experience in my way, I have never seen
a lord’s son more sure of promotion, than that same brigantine seems to
be of his heels! If this old Frenchman goes on with his faces much
longer, he will turn himself inside-out, and then we shall get an
honest look at him, for these fellows never carry their true characters
above-board, like a fair-dealing Englishman. Well, sir, as I was
remarking, yon rover, if rover he be, has more faith in his canvas than
in the church. I make no doubt, Captain Ludlow, that the brigantine
went through the inlet, while we were handing our top-sails yesterday;
for I am none of those who are in a hurry to give credit to any
will-o’-the-wisp tale; besides which, I sounded the passage with my own
hands, and know the thing to be possible, with the wind blowing heavy
over the taffrail; still, sir, human nature is human nature, and what
is the oldest seaman after all, but a man?—And so to conclude, I would
rather any day chase a Frenchman, whose disposition is known to me,
than have the credit of making traverses, for eight-and-forty hours, in
the wake of one of these flyers, with little hope of getting him within
hail.”
“You forget, Master Trysail, that I have been aboard the chase, and
know something of his build and character.”
“They say as much aboard, here,” returned the old tar, drawing nearer
to the person of his captain, under an impulse of strong curiosity;
“though none presume to be acquainted with the particulars. I am not
one of those who ask impertinent questions, more especially under Her
Majesty’s pennant; for the worst enemy I have will not say I am very
womanish. One would think, however, that there was neat work on board a
craft that is so prettily moulded about her water-lines?”
“She is perfect as to construction, and admirable in gear.”
“I thought as much, by instinct! Her commander need not, however, be
any the more sure of keeping her off the rocks, on that account. The
prettiest young woman in our parish was wrecked, as one might say, on
the shoals of her own good looks, having cruised once too often in the
company of the squire’s son. A comely wench she was, though she luffed
athwart all her old companions, when the young lord of the manor fell
into her wake. Well, she did bravely enough, sir, as long as she could
carry her flying kites, and make a fair wind of it; but when the squall
of which I spoke, overtook her, what could she do but keep away before
it?—and as others, who are snugger in their morals hove-to as it were,
under the storm-sails of religion and such matters as they had picked
up in the catechism, she drifted to leeward of all honest society! A
neatly-built and clean-heeled hussy was that girl; and I am not
certain, by any means, that Mrs. Trysail would this day call herself
the lady of a Queen’s officer, had the other known how to carry sail in
the company of her betters.”
The worthy master drew a long breath, which possibly was a nautical
sigh, but which certainly had more of the north wind than of the zephyr
in its breathing; and he had recourse to the little box of iron, whence
he usually drew consolation.
“I have heard of this accident before;” returned Ludlow, who had sailed
as a midshipman in the same vessel with, and indeed as a subordinate
to, his present inferior. “But, from all accounts, you have little
reason to regret the change, as I hear the best character of your
present worthy partner.”
“No doubt, sir, no doubt.—I defy any man in the ship to say that I am a
backbiter, even against my wife, with whom I have a sort of lawful
right to deal candidly. I make no complaints, and am a happy man at
sea, and I piously hope Mrs. Trysail knows how to submit to her duty at
home.—I suppose you see, sir, that the chase has hauled his yards, and
is getting his fore-tack aboard?” Ludlow, whose eye did not often turn
from the brigantine, nodded assent; and the master, having satisfied
himself, by actual inspection, that every sail in the Coquette did its
duty, continued—“The night is coming on thick, and we shall have
occasion for all our eyes to keep the rogue in view, when he begins to
change his bearings—but, as I was saying, if the commander of yonder
half-rig is too vain of her good looks, he may yet wreck her, in his
pride! The rogue has a desperate character as a smuggler, though, for
my own part, I cannot say that I look on such men with as unfavorable
an eye as some others. This business of trade seems to be a sort of
chase between one man’s wits and another man’s wits, and the dullest
goer must be content to fall to leeward. When it comes to be a question
of revenue, why, he who goes free is lucky, and he who is caught, a
prize. I have known a flag-officer look the other way, Captain Ludlow,
when his own effects were passing duty-free; and as to your admiral’s
lady, she is a great patroness of the contraband. I do not deny, sir,
that a smuggler must be caught, and when caught, condemned, after which
there must be a fair distribution among the captors; but all that I
mean to say is, that there are worse men in the world than your British
smuggler—such, for instance, as your Frenchman, your Dutchman, or your
Don.”
“These are heterodox opinions for a Queen’s servant;” said Ludlow, as
much inclined to smile as to frown.
“I hope I know my duty too well to preach them to the ship’s company,
but a man may say that, in a philosophical way, before his captain,
that he would not let run into a midshipman’s ear. Though no lawyer, I
know what is meant by swearing a witness to the truth and nothing but
the truth. I wish the Queen got the last, God bless her! several
worn-out ships would then be broken up, and better vessels sent to sea
in their places. But, sir, speaking in a religious point of view, what
is the difference between passing in a trunk of finery, with a
duchess’s name on the brass plate, or in passing in gin enough to fill
a cutter’s hold?”
“One would think a man of your years, Mr. Trysail, would see the
difference between robbing the revenue of a guinea, and robbing it of a
thousand pounds.”
“Which is just the difference between retail and wholesale,—and that is
no trifle, I admit, Captain Ludlow, in a commercial country, especially
in genteel life. Still, sir, revenue is the country’s right and
therefore I allow a smuggler to be a bad man only not so bad as those I
have just named, particularly your Dutchman! The Queen is right to make
those rogues lower their flags to her in the narrow seas, which are her
lawful property; because England, being a wealthy island, and Holland
no more than a bit of bog turned up to dry, it is reasonable that we
should have the command afloat. No, sir, though none of your outcriers
against a man, because he has had bad luck in a chase with a
revenue-cutter, I hope I know what the natural rights of an Englishman
are. We must be masters, here, Captain Ludlow, will-ye-nill-ye, and
look to the main chances of trade and manufactures!”
“I had not thought you so accomplished a statesman, Master Trysail!”
“Though a poor man’s son, Captain Ludlow, I am a free-born Briton, and
my education has not been entirely overlooked. I hope I know something
of the constitution, as well as my betters. Justice and honor being an
Englishman’s mottoes, we must look manfully to the main chance. We are
none of your flighty talkers, but a reasoning people, and there is no
want of deep thinkers on the little island; and therefore, sir, taking
all together, why England must stick up for her rights! Here is your
Dutchman, for instance, a ravenous cormorant; a fellow with a throat
wide enough to swallow all the gold of the Great Mogul, if he could get
at it; and yet a vagabond who has not even a fair footing on the earth,
if the truth must be spoken! Well, sir, shall England give up her
rights to a nation of such blackguards? No, sir; our venerable
constitution and mother church itself forbid, and therefore I say,
dam’me, lay them aboard, if they refuse us any of our natural rights,
or show a wish to bring us down to their own dirty level!”
“Reasoned like a countryman of Newton, and an eloquence that would do
credit to Cicero! I shall endeavor to digest your ideas at my leisure,
since they are much too solid food to be disposed of in a minute. At
present we will look to the chase, for I see, by the aid of my glass,
that he has set his studding-sails, and is beginning to draw ahead.”
This remark closed the dialogue, between the captain and his
subordinate. The latter quitted the gangway with that secret and
pleasurable sensation which communicates itself to all who have reason
to think they have delivered themselves creditably of a train of
profound thought.
It was, in truth, time to lend every faculty to the movements of the
brigantine; for there was great reason to apprehend, that by changing
her direction in the darkness, she might elude them. The night was fast
closing on the Coquette, and at each moment the horizon narrowed around
her, so that it was only at uncertain intervals the men aloft could
distinguish the position of the chase. While the two vessels were thus
situated, Ludlow joined his guests on the quarter-deck.
“A wise man will trust to his wits, what cannot be done by force;” said
the Alderman. “I do not pretend to be much of a mariner, Captain
Ludlow, though I once spent a week in London, and I have crossed the
ocean seven times to Rotterdam. We did little in our passages, by
striving to force nature. When the nights came in dark, as at present,
the honest schippers were content to wait for better times; by which
means we were sure not to miss our road, and of finally arriving at the
destined port in safety.”
“You saw that the brigantine was opening his canvas, when last seen;
and he that would move fast, must have recourse to his sails.”
“One never knows what may be brewing, up there in the heavens, when the
eye cannot see the color of a cloud. I have little knowledge of the
character of the ‘Skimmer of the Seas,’ beyond that which common fame
gives him; but, in the poor judgment of a landsman, we should do better
by showing lanterns in different parts of the ship, lest some
homeward-bound vessel do us an injury, and waiting until the morning,
for further movements.”
“We are spared the trouble, for look, the insolent has set a light
himself, as if to invite us to follow. This temerity exceeds belief! To
dare to trifle thus with one of the swiftest cruisers in the English
fleet! See that everything draws, gentlemen, and take a pull at all the
sheets. Hail the tops, sir, and make sure that everything is home.”
The order was succeeded by the voice of the officer of the watch, who
inquired, as directed, if each sail was distended to the utmost. Force
was applied to some of the ropes, and then a general quiet succeeded to
the momentary activity.
The brigantine had indeed showed a light, as if in mockery of the
attempt of the royal cruiser. Though secretly stung by this open
contempt of their speed, the officers of the Coquette found themselves
relieved from a painful and anxious duty. Before this beacon was seen,
they were obliged to exert their senses to the utmost, in order to get
occasional glimpses of the position of the chase; while they now
steered in confidence for the brilliant little spot, that was gently
rising and falling with the waves.
“I think we near him,” half-whispered the eager captain; “for, see,
there is some design visible on the sides of the lantern. Hold!—Ah!
’tis the face of a woman, as I live!”
“The men of the yawl report that the rover shows this symbol in many
parts of his vessel, and we know he had the impudence to set it
yesterday in our presence, even on his ensign.”
“True—true; take you the glass, Mr. Luff, and tell me if there be not a
woman’s face sketched in front of that light—we certainly near him
fast—let there be silence, fore and aft the ship. The rogues mistake
our bearings!”
“A saucy-looking jade, as one might wish to see!” returned the
lieutenant. “Her impudent laugh is visible to the naked eye.”
“See all clear for laying him aboard! Get a party to throw on his
decks, sir! I will lead them myself.”
These orders were given in an undertone, and rapidly. They were
promptly obeyed. In the meantime, the Coquette continued to glide
gently ahead, her sails thickening with the dew, and every breath of
the heavy air acting with increased power on their surfaces. The
boarders were stationed, orders were given for the most profound
silence, and as the ship drew nearer to the light, even the officers
were commanded not to stir. Ludlow stationed himself in the mizen
channels, to con the ship; and his directions were repeated to the
quarter-master, in a loud whisper.
“The night is so dark, we are certainly unseen!” observed the young man
to his second in command; who stood at his elbow. “They have
unaccountably mistaken our position. Observe how the face of the
painting becomes more distinct—one can see even the curls of the
hair.—Luff, sir! luff—we will run him aboard! on his weather-quarter.”
“The fool must be lying-to!” returned the lieutenant. “Even your
witches fail of common sense; at times! Do you see which way he has his
head, sir?”
“I see nothing but the light. It is so dark that our own sails are
scarcely visible—and yet I think here are his yards, a little forward
of our lee beam.”
“’Tis our own lower boom. I got it out, in readiness for the other
tack, in case the knave should ware. Are we not running too full?”
“Luff you may, a little,—luff, or we shall crush him!”
As this order was given, Ludlow passed swiftly forward. He found the
hoarders ready for a spring, and he rapidly gave his orders. The men
were told to carry the brigantine at every hazard, but not to offer
violence, unless serious resistance was made. They were thrice enjoined
not to enter the cabins, and the young man expressed a generous wish
that, in every case, the ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ might be taken alive. By
the time these directions were given, the light was so near that the
malign countenance of the sea-green lady was seen in every lineament.
Ludlow looked, in vain, for the spars, in order to ascertain in which
direction the head of the brigantine lay; but, trusting to luck, he saw
that the decisive moment was come.
“Starboard, and run him aboard!—Away there, you boarders, away! Heave
with your grapnels; heave, men, with a long swing, heave! Meet her,
with the helm—hard down—meet her—steady!”—was shouted in a clear, full,
and steady voice, that seemed to deepen at each mandate which issued
from the lips of the young captain.
The boarders cheered heartily, and leaped into the rigging. The
Coquette readily and rapidly yielded to the power of her rudder. First
inclining to the light, and then sweeping up towards the wind again, in
another instant she was close upon the chase. The irons were thrown,
the men once more shouted, and all on board held their breaths in
expectation of the crash of the meeting hulls. At that moment of high
excitement, the woman’s face rose a short distance in the air, seemed
to smile in derision of their attempt, and suddenly disappeared. The
ship passed steadily ahead, while no noise but the sullen wash of the
waters was audible. The boarding-irons were heard falling heavily into
the sea; and the Coquette rapidly overrun the spot where the light had
been seen, without sustaining any shock. Though the clouds lifted a
little, and the eye might embrace a circuit of a few hundred feet,
there certainly was nothing to be seen, within its range, but the
unquiet element, and the stately cruiser of Queen Anne floating on its
bosom.
Though its effects were different on the differently-constituted minds
of those who witnessed the singular incident, the disappointment was
general. The common impression was certainly unfavorable to the earthly
character of the brigantine; and when opinions of this nature once get
possession of the ignorant, they are not easily removed. Even Trysail,
though experienced in the arts of those who trifle with the
revenue-laws, was much inclined to believe that this was no vulgar case
of floating lights or false beacons, but a manifestation that others,
besides those who had been regularly trained to the sea, were
occasionally to be found on the waters. If Captain Ludlow thought
differently, he saw no sufficient reason to enter into an explanation
with those who were bound silently to obey. He paced the quarter-deck,
for many minutes; and then issued his orders to the
equally-disappointed lieutenants. The light canvas of the Coquette was
taken in, the studding-sail-gear unrove, and the booms secured. The
ship was then brought to the wind, and her courses having been hauled
up, the fore-top-sail was thrown to the mast. In this position the
cruiser lay, waiting for the morning light, in order to give greater
certainty to her movements.