“If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well
It were done quickly—”
Macbeth.
The words of the immortal poet, with which, in deference to an ancient
usage in the literature of the language, we have prefaced the incidents
to be related in this chapter, are in perfect conformity with that
governing maxim of a vessel, which is commonly found embodied in its
standing orders, and which prescribes the necessity of exertion and
activity in the least of its operations. A strongly-manned ship, like a
strong-armed man, is fond of showing its physical power, for it is one
of the principal secrets of its efficiency. In a profession in which
there is an unceasing contest with the wild and fickle winds, and in
which human efforts are to be manifested in the control of a delicate
and fearful machinery on an inconstant element, this governing
principle becomes of the last importance. Where ‘delay may so easily be
death,’ it soon gets to be a word that is expunged from the language;
and there is perhaps no truth more necessary to be known to all young
aspirants for naval success, than that, while nothing should be
attempted in a hurry, nothing should be done without the last degree of
activity that is compatible with precision.
The commander of the Coquette had early been impressed with the truth
of the foregoing rule, and he had not neglected its application in the
discipline of his crew. When he reached the deck, therefore, after
relinquishing the cabin to his visitors, he found those preparations
which he had ordered to be commenced when he first returned to the
ship, already far advanced towards their execution. As these movements
are closely connected with the future events it is our duty to explain,
we shall relate them with some particularity.
Ludlow had no sooner given his orders to the officer in charge of the
deck, than the whistle of the boatswain was heard summoning all hands
to their duty. When the crew had been collected, tackles were hooked to
the large boats stowed in the centre of the ship, and the whole of them
were lowered into the water. The descent of those suspended on the
quarters, was of course less difficult and much sooner effected. So
soon as all the boats, with the exception of one at the stern, were
out, the order was given to ‘cross top-gallant-yards.’ This duty had
been commenced while other things were in the course of performance,
and a minute had scarcely passed before the upper masts were again in
possession of their light sails. Then was heard the usual summons of,
‘all hands up anchor, ahoy!’ and the rapid orders of the young officers
to ‘man capstan-bars,’ to ‘nipper,’ and finally to ‘heave away.’ The
business of getting the anchor on board a cruiser and on board a ship
engaged in commerce, is of very different degrees of labor, as well as
of expedition. In the latter, a dozen men apply their powers to a
slow-moving and reluctant windlass, while the untractable cable, as it
enters, is broken into coils by the painful efforts of a grumbling
cook, thwarted, perhaps, as much as he is aided by the waywardness of
some wilful urchin who does the service of the cabin. On the other
hand, the upright and constantly-moving capstan knows no delay. The
revolving ‘messenger’ is ever ready to be applied, and skilful petty
officers are always in the tiers, to dispose of the massive rope, that
it may not encumber the decks.
Ludlow appeared among his people, while they were thus employed. Ere he
had made one hasty turn on the quarter-deck, he was met by the busy
first-lieutenant.
“We are short, sir,” said that agent of all work.
“Set your top-sails.”
The canvas was instantly permitted to fall, and it was no sooner
stretched to the yards, than force was applied to the halyards, and the
sails were hoisted.
“Which way, sir, do you wish the ship cast?” demanded the attentive
Luff.
“To seaward.”
The head-yards were accordingly braced aback in the proper direction,
and it was then reported to the captain that all was ready to get the
ship under way.
“Trip the anchor at once, sir; when it is stowed, and the decks are
cleared, report to me.”
This sententious and characteristic communication between Ludlow and
his second in command, was sufficient for all the purposes of that
moment. The one was accustomed to issue his orders without explanation,
and the other never hesitated to obey, and rarely presumed to inquire
into their motive.
“We are aweigh and stowed, sir; everything clear,” said Mr. Luff, after
a few minutes had been allowed to execute the preceding commands.
Ludlow then seemed to arouse himself from a deep reverie. He had
hitherto spoken mechanically, rather than as one conscious of what he
uttered, or whose feelings had any connexion with his words. But it was
now necessary to mingle with his officers and to issue mandates that,
as they were less in routine, required both thought and discretion. The
crews of the different boats were ‘called away,’ and arms were placed
in their hands. When nearly or quite one half of the ship’s company
were in the boats, and the latter were all reported to be ready,
officers were assigned to each, and the particular service expected at
their hands was distinctly explained.
A master’s mate in the captain’s barge, with the crew strengthened by
half-a-dozen marines, was ordered to pull directly for the Cove, into
which he was to enter with muffled oars, and where he was to await a
signal from the first-lieutenant, unless he met the brigantine
endeavoring to escape, in which case his orders were imperative to
board and carry her at every hazard. The high-spirited youth no sooner
received this charge, than he quitted the ship and steered to the
southward, keeping inside the tongue of land so often named.
Luff was then told to take command of the launch. With this heavy and
strongly-manned boat, he was ordered to proceed to the inlet, where he
was to give the signal to the barge, and whence he was to go to the
assistance of the latter, so soon as he was assured the Water-Witch
could not again escape by the secret passage.
The two cutters were intrusted to the command of the second-lieutenant,
with orders to pull into the broad passage between the end of the cape,
or the ‘Hook,’ and that long narrow island which stretches from the
harbor of New-York for more than forty leagues to the eastward,
sheltering the whole coast of Connecticut from the tempests of the
ocean. Ludlow knew, though ships of a heavy draught were obliged to
pass close to the cape, in order to gain the open sea, that a light
brigantine, like the Water-Witch, could find a sufficient depth of
water for her purposes further north. The cutters were, therefore, sent
in that direction, with orders to cover as much of the channel as
possible, and to carry the smuggler should an occasion offer. Finally,
the yawl was to occupy the space between the two channels, with orders
to repeat signals, and to be vigilant in reconnoitring.
While the different officers intrusted with these duties were receiving
their instructions, the ship, under the charge of Trysail, began to
move towards the cape. When off the point of the Hook, the two cutters
and the yawl ‘cast off,’ and took to their oars, and when fairly
without the buoys, the launch did the same, each boat taking its
prescribed direction.
If the reader retains a distinct recollection of the scene described in
one of the earlier pages of this work, he will understand the grounds
on which Ludlow based his hopes of success. By sending the launch into
the inlet, he believed he should inclose the brigantine on every side;
since her escape through either of the ordinary channels would become
impossible, while he kept the Coquette in the offing. The service he
expected from the three boats sent to the northward, was to trace the
movement of the smuggler, and, should a suitable opportunity offer, to
attempt to carry him by surprise.
When the launch parted from the ship, the Coquette came slowly up to
the wind, and with her fore-top-sail thrown to the mast, she lay,
waiting to allow her boats the time necessary to reach their several
stations. The different expeditions had reduced the force of the crew
quite one half, and as both the lieutenants were otherwise employed,
there now remained on board no officer of a rank between those of the
captain and Trysail. Some time after the vessel had been stationary,
and the men had been ordered to keep close, or, in other words, to
dispose of their persons as they pleased, with a view to permit them to
catch ‘cat’s naps,’ as some compensation for the loss of their regular
sleep, the latter approached his superior, who stood gazing over the
hammock-cloths in the direction of the Cove, and spoke.
“A dark night, smooth water, and fresh hands make boating agreeable
duty!” he said. “The gentlemen are in fine heart, and full of young
men’s hopes; but he who lays that brigantine aboard, will, in my poor
judgment, have more work to do than merely getting up her side. I was
in the foremost boat that boarded a Spaniard in the Mona, last war; and
though we went into her with light heels, some of us were brought out
with broken heads.—I think the fore-top-gallant-mast has a better set,
Captain Ludlow, since we gave the last pull at the rigging?”
“It stands well;” returned his half-attentive commander. “Give it the
other drag, if you think best.”
“Just as you please, sir; ’tis all one to me. I care not if the mast is
hove all of one side, like the hat on the head of a country buck; but
when a thing is as it ought to be, reason would tell us to let it
alone. Mr. Luff was of opinion, that by altering the slings of the
main-yard, we should give a better set to the top-sail sheets; but it
was little that could be done with the stick aloft, and I am ready to
pay Her Majesty the difference between the wear of the sheets as they
stand now, and as Mr. Luff would have them, out of my own pocket,
though it is often as empty as a parish church in which a fox-hunting
parson preaches. I was present, once, when a real tally-ho was reading
the service, and one of your godless squires got in the wake of a fox,
with his hounds, within hail of the church-windows! The cries had some
such effect on my roarer, as a puff of wind would have on this ship;
that is to say, he sprung his luff, and though he kept on muttering
something I never knew what, his eyes were in the fields the whole time
the pack was in view. But this wasn’t the worst of it; for when he got
fairly back to his work again, the wind had been blowing the leaves of
his book about, and he plumped us into the middle of the marriage
ceremony. I am no great lawyer, but there were those who said it was a
god-send that half the young men in the parish weren’t married to their
own grandmothers!”
“I hope the match was agreeable to the family,” said Ludlow, relieving
one elbow by resting the weight of his head on the other.
“Why, as to that, I will not take upon me to say since the clerk
corrected the parson’s reckoning before the mischief was entirely done.
There has been a little dispute between me and the first-lieutenant,
Captain Ludlow, concerning the trim of the ship. He maintains that we
have got too much in forward of what he calls the centre of gravity;
and he is of opinion that had we been less by the head, the smuggler
would never have had the heels of us, in the chase; whereas I invite
any man to lay a craft on her water-line——”
“Show our light!” interrupted Ludlow. “Yonder goes the signal of the
launch!”
Trysail ceased speaking, and, stepping on a gun, he also began to gaze
in the direction of the Cove. A lantern, or some other bright object,
was leisurely raised three times, and as often hid from view. The
signal came from under the land, and in a quarter that left no doubt of
its object.
“So far, well;” cried the Captain, quitting his stand, and turning, for
the first time, with consciousness, to his officer. “’Tis a sign that
they are at the inlet, and that the offing is clear. I think, Master
Trysail, we are now sure of our prize. Sweep the horizon thoroughly
with the night-glass, and then we will close upon this boasted
brigantine.”
Both took glasses, and devoted several minutes to this duty. A careful
examination of the margin of the sea, from the coast of New-Jersey to
that of Long-Island, gave them reason to believe that nothing of any
size was lying without the cape. The sky was more free from clouds to
the eastward than under the land and it was not difficult to make
certain of this important fact. It gave them the assurance that the
Water-Witch had not escaped by the secret passage, during the time lost
in their own preparations.
“This is still well;” continued Ludlow. “Now he cannot avoid us—show
the triangle.”
Three lights, disposed in the form just named were then hoisted at the
gaff-end of the Coquette. It was an order for the boats in the Cove to
proceed. The signal was quickly answered from the launch, and then a
small rocket was seen sailing over the trees and shrubbery of the
shore. All on board the Coquette listened intently, to catch some sound
that should denote the tumult of an assault. Once Ludlow and Trysail
thought the cheers of seamen came on the thick air of the night; and
once, again, either fancy or their senses told them they heard the
menacing hail which commanded the outlaws to submit. Many minutes of
intense anxiety succeeded. The whole of the hammock-cloths on the side
of the ship nearest to the land were lined with curious faces, though
respect left Ludlow to the sole occupation of the short and light deck
which covered the accommodations; whither he had ascended, to command a
more perfect view of the horizon.
“’Tis time to hear their musketry, or to see the signal of success!”
said the young man to himself, so intently occupied by his interest in
the undertaking, as to be unconscious of having spoken.
“Have you forgotten to provide a signal for failure?” said one at his
elbow.
“Ha! Master Seadrift;—I would have spared you this spectacle.”
“’Tis one too often witnessed, to be singular. A life passed on the
ocean has not left me ignorant of the effect of night, with a view
seaward, a dark coast, and a background of mountain!”
“You have confidence in him left in charge of your brigantine! I shall
have faith in your sea-green lady, myself, if he escape my boats, this
time.”
“See!—there is a token of her fortune;” returned the other, pointing
towards three lanterns that were shown at the inlet’s mouth, and over
which many lights were burnt in rapid succession.
“’Tis of failure! Let the ship fall-of, and square away the yards!
Round in, men, round in. We will run down to the entrance of the bay,
Mr. Trysail. The knaves have been aided by their lucky star!”
Ludlow spoke with deep vexation in his tones, but always with the
authority of a superior and the promptitude of a seaman. The motionless
being, near him, maintained a profound silence. No exclamation of
triumph escaped him, nor did he open his lips either in pleasure or in
surprise. It appeared as if confidence in his vessel rendered him as
much superior to exultation as to apprehension.
“You look upon this exploit of your brigantine, Master Seadrift, as a
thing of course;” Ludlow observed, when his own ship was steering
towards the extremity of the cape, again. “Fortune has not deserted
you, yet; but with the land on three sides, and this ship and her boats
on the fourth, I do not despair yet of prevailing over your bronzed
goddess!”
“Our mistress never sleeps;” returned the dealer in contraband, drawing
a long breath, like one who had struggled long to repress his interest.
“Terms are still in your power. I shall not conceal that the
Commissioners of Her Majesty’s customs set so high a price on the
possession of the Water-Witch, as to embolden me to assume a
responsibility from which I might, on any other occasion, shrink.
Deliver the vessel, and I pledge you the honor of an officer that the
crew shall land without question.—Leave her to us, with empty decks and
a swept hold, if you will,—but, leave the swift boat in our hands.”
“The lady of the brigantine thinks otherwise. She wears her mantle of
the deep waters, and, trust me, spite of all your nets, she will lead
her followers beyond the offices of the lead, and far from
soundings;—aye! spite of all the navy of Queen Anne!”
“I hope that others may not repent this obstinacy! But this is no time
to bandy words; the duty of the ship requires my presence.”
Seadrift took the hint, and reluctantly retired to the cabin. As he
left the poop, the moon rose above the line of water in the eastern
board, and shed its light along the whole horizon. The crew of the
Coquette were now enabled to see, with sufficient distinctness, from
the sands of the Hook to the distance of many leagues to seaward. There
no longer remained a doubt that the brigantine was still within the
bay. Encouraged by this certainty, Ludlow endeavored to forget all
motives of personal feeling, in the discharge of a duty that was
getting to be more and more interesting, as the prospect of its
successful accomplishment grew brighter.
It was not long before the Coquette reached the channel which forms the
available mouth of the estuary. Here the ship was again brought to the
wind, and men were sent upon the yards and all her more lofty spars, in
order to overlook, by the dim and deceitful light, as much of the inner
water as the eye could reach; while Ludlow, assisted by the master, was
engaged in the same employment on the deck. Two or three midshipmen
were included, among the common herd, aloft.
“There is nothing visible within,” said the captain after a long and
anxious search, with a glass. “The shadow of the Jersey mountains
prevents the sight in that direction, while the spars of a frigate
might be confounded with the trees of Staten Island, here, in the
northern board.—Cross-jack-yard, there!”
The shrill voice of a midshipman answered to the hail.
“What do you make within the Hook, sir?”
“Nothing visible. Our barge is pulling along the land, and the launch
appears to be lying off the inlet; aye—here is the yawl, resting on its
oars without the Romar; but we can find nothing which looks like the
cutter, in the range of Coney.”
“Take another sweep of the glass more westward, and look well into the
mouth of the Raritan,—mark you anything in that quarter?”
“Ha!—here is a speck on our lee quarter!”
“What do you make of it?”
“Unless sight deceives me greatly, sir, there is a light boat pulling
in for the ship, about three cables’ length distant”
Ludlow raised his own glass, and swept the water in the direction
named. After one or two unsuccessful trials, his eye caught the object;
and as the moon had now some power, he was at no loss to distinguish
its character. There was evidently a boat, and one that, by its
movements, had a design of holding communication with the cruiser.
The eye of a seaman is acute on his element, and his mind is quick in
forming opinions on all things that properly appertain to his
profession. Ludlow saw instantly, by the construction, that the boat
was not one of those sent from the ship; that it approached in a
direction which enabled it to avoid the Coquette, by keeping in a part
of the bay where the water was not sufficiently deep to admit of her
passage; and that its movements were so guarded as to denote great
caution, while there was an evident wish to draw as near to the cruiser
as prudence might render advisable. Taking a trumpet, he hailed in the
well-known and customary manner.
The answer came up faintly against the air, but it was uttered with
much practice in the implement, and with an exceeding compass of voice.
“Aye, aye!” and, “a parley from the brigantine!” were the only words
that were distinctly audible.
For a minute or two, the young man paced the deck in silence. Then he
suddenly commanded the only boat which the cruiser now possessed, to be
lowered and manned.
“Throw an ensign into the stern-sheets,” he said when these orders were
executed; “and let there be arms beneath it. We will keep faith while
faith is observed, but there are reasons for caution in this
interview.”
Trysail was directed to keep the ship stationary, and after giving to
his subordinate private instructions of importance in the event of
treachery, Ludlow went into the boat in person. A very few minutes
sufficed to bring the jolly-boat and the stranger so near each other,
that the means of communication were both easy and sure. The men of the
former were then commanded to cease rowing, and, raising his glass, the
commander of the cruiser took a more certain and minute survey of those
who awaited his coming. The strange boat was dancing on the waves, like
a light shell that floated so buoyantly as scarce to touch the element
which sustained it, while four athletic seamen leaned on the oars which
lay ready to urge it ahead. In the stern-sheets stood a form, whose
attitude and mien could not readily be mistaken. In the admirable
steadiness of the figure, the folded arms, the fine and manly
proportions, and the attire, Ludlow recognized the mariner of the
India-shawl. A wave of the hand induced him to venture nearer.
“What is asked of the royal cruiser?” demanded the captain of the
vessel named, when the two boats were as near each other as seemed
expedient.
“Confidence!” was the calm reply.—“Come nearer Captain Ludlow; I am
here with naked hands! Our conference need not be maintained with
trumpets.”
Ashamed that a boat belonging to a ship of war should betray doubts,
the people of the yawl were ordered to go within reach of the oars.
“Well, sir, you have your wish. I have quitted my ship, and come to the
parley, with the smallest of my boats.”
“It is unnecessary to say what has been done with the others!” returned
Tiller, across the firm muscles of whose face there passed a smile that
was scarcely perceptible. “You hunt us hard, sir, and give but little
rest to the brigantine. But again are you foiled!”
“We have a harbinger of better fortune, in a lucky blow that has been
struck to-night.”
“You are understood, sir; Master Seadrift has fallen into the hands of
the Queen’s servants—but take good heed! if injury, in word or deed,
befall that youth, there live those who well know how to resent the
wrong!”
“These are lofty expressions, to come from a proscribed man; but we
will overlook them, in the motive. Your brigantine, Master Tiller, lost
its master spirit in the ‘Skimmer of the Seas,’ and it may be wise to
listen to the suggestions of moderation. If you are disposed to treat,
I am here with no disposition to extort.”
“We meet in a suitable spirit, then; for I come prepared to offer terms
of ransom, that Queen Anne, if she love her revenue, need not
despise;—but, as in duty to Her Majesty, I will first listen to her
royal pleasure.”
“First, then, as a seaman, and one who is not ignorant of what a vessel
can perform, let me direct your attention to the situation of the
parties. I am certain that the Water-Witch, though for the moment
concealed by the shadows of the hills, or favored perhaps by distance
and the feebleness of this light, is in the waters of the bay. A force,
against which she has no power of resistance, watches the inlet; you
see the cruiser in readiness to meet her off the Hook. My boats are so
stationed as to preclude the possibility of escape, without sufficient
notice, by the northern channel; and, in short, the outlets are all
closed to your passage. With the morning light, we shall know your
position, and act accordingly.”
“No chart can show the dangers of rocks and shoals more clearly!—and to
avoid these dangers——?”
“Yield the brigantine, and depart. Though outlawed, we shall content
ourselves with the possession of the remarkable vessel in which you do
your mischief, and hope that, deprived of the means to err, you will
return to better courses.”
“With the prayers of the church for our amendment! Now listen, Captain
Ludlow, to what I offer. You have the person of one much loved by all
who follow the lady of the sea-green mantle, in your power; and we have
a brigantine that does much injury to Queen Anne’s supremacy in the
waters of this hemisphere;—yield you the captive, and we promise to
quit this coast, never to return.”
“This were a worthy treaty, truly, for one whose habitation is not a
mad-house! Relinquish my right over the principal doer of the evil, and
receive the unsupported pledge of a subordinate’s word! Your happy
fortune, Master Tiller, has troubled your reason. What I offer, was
offered because I would not drive an unfortunate and remarkable man,
like him we have, to extremities, and—there may be other motives, but
do not mistake my lenity. Should force become necessary to put your
vessel into our hands, the law may view your offences with a still
harsher eye. Deeds which the lenity of our system now considers as
venial, may easily turn to crime!”
“I ought not to take your distrust, as other than excusable,” returned
the smuggler, evidently suppressing a feeling of haughty and wounded
pride. “The word of a free-trader should have little weight in the ears
of a queen’s officer. We have been trained in different schools, and
the same objects are seen in different colors. Your proposal has been
heard, and, with some thanks for its fair intentions, it is refused
without a hope of acceptation. Our brigantine is, as you rightly think,
a remarkable vessel! Her equal, sir, for beauty or speed, floats not
the ocean. By heaven! I would sooner slight the smiles of the fairest
woman that walks the earth, than entertain a thought which should
betray the interest I feel in that jewel of naval skill! You have seen
her, at many times, Captain Ludlow—in squalls and calms; with her wings
abroad, and her pinions shut; by day and night; near and far; fair and
foul;—and I ask you, with a seaman’s frankness, is she not a toy to
fill a seaman’s heart?”
“I deny not the vessel’s merits, nor her beauty—’tis a pity she bears
no better reputation.”
“I knew you could not withhold this praise! But I grow childish when
there is question of that brigantine! Well sir, each has been heard,
and now comes the conclusion. I part with the apple of my eye, ere a
stick of that lovely fabric is willingly deserted. Shall we make other
ransom for the youth?—What think you of a pledge in gold, to be
forfeited should we forget our word.”
“You ask impossibilities. In treating thus at all, I quit the path of
proud authority, because, as has been said, there is that about the
‘Skimmer of the Seas’ that raises him above the coarse herd who in
common traffic against the law. The brigantine, or nothing!”
“My life, before that brigantine! Sir, you forget our fortunes are
protected by one who laughs at the efforts of your fleet; You think
that we are inclosed and that, when light shall return, there will
remain merely the easy task to place your iron-mounted cruiser on our
beam, and drive us to seek mercy. Here are honest mariners, who could
tell you of the hopelessness of the expedient. The Water-Witch has run
the gauntlet of all your navies, and shot has never yet defaced her
beauty.”
“And yet her limbs have been known to fall before a messenger from my
ship!”
“The stick wanted the commission of our mistress,” interrupted the
other, glancing his eye at the credulous and attentive crew of the
boat. “In a thoughtless moment, ’twas taken up at sea, and fashioned to
our purpose without counsel from the book. Nothing that touches our
decks, under fitting advice, comes to harm.—You look incredulous, and
’tis in character to seem so. If you refuse to listen to the lady of
the brigantine, at least lend an ear to your own laws. Of what offence
can you charge Master Seadrift, that you hold him captive?”
“His redoubted name of ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ were warranty to force him
from a sanctuary,” returned Ludlow, smiling. “Though proof should fail
of any immediate crime, there is impunity for the arrest, since the law
refuses to protect him.”
“This is your boasted justice! Rogues in authority combine to condemn
an absent and a silent man. But if you think to do your violence with
impunity, know there are those who take deep interest in the welfare of
that youth.”
“This is foolish bandying of menaces,” said the captain, warmly. “If
you accept my offers, speak; and if you reject them, abide the
consequences.”
“I abide the consequences. But since we cannot come to terms, as victor
and the submitting party, we may part in amity. Touch my hand, Captain
Ludlow, as one brave man should salute another, though the next minute
they are to grapple at the throat.”
Ludlow hesitated. The proposal was made with so frank and manly a mien,
and the air of the free-trader, as he leaned beyond the gunwale of his
boat, was so superior to his pursuit, that, unwilling to seem churlish,
or to be outdone in courtesy, he reluctantly consented, and laid his
palm within that the other offered. The smuggler profited by the
junction to draw the boats nearer, and, to the amazement of all who
witnessed the action, he stepped boldly into the yawl, and was seated,
face to face, with its officer in a moment.
“These are matters that are not fit for every ear,” said the decided
and confident mariner, in an undertone, when he had made this sudden
change in the position of the parties. “Deal with me frankly, Captain
Ludlow:—is your prisoner left to brood on his melancholy, or does he
feel the consolation of knowing that others take an interest in his
welfare?”
“He does not want for sympathy, Master Tiller—since he has the pity of
the finest woman in America.”
“Ha! la belle Barbérie owns her esteem!—is the conjecture right?”
“Unhappily, you are too near the truth. The infatuated girl seems but
to live in his presence. She has so far forgotten the opinions of
others, as to follow him to my ship!”
Tiller listened intently, and, from that instant, all concern
disappeared from his countenance.
“He who is thus favored may, for a moment, even forget the brigantine!”
he exclaimed, with all his natural recklessness of air. “And the
Alderman——?”
“Has more discretion than his niece, since he did not permit her to
come alone.”
“Enough.—Captain Ludlow, let what will follow. We part as friends. Fear
not, sir, to touch the hand of a proscribed man, again; it is honest
after its own fashion, and many is the peer and prince who keeps not so
clean a palm. Deal tenderly with that gay and rash young sailor; he
wants the discretion of an older head, but the heart is kindness
itself—I would hazard life, to shelter his—but at every hazard the
brigantine must be saved.—Adieu!”
There was strong emotion in the voice of the mariner of the shawl,
notwithstanding his high bearing. Squeezing the hand of Ludlow, he
passed back into his own barge, with the ease and steadiness of one who
made the ocean his home.
“Adieu!” he repeated, signing to his men to pull in the direction of
the shoals, where it was certain the ship could not follow. “We may
meet again; until then, adieu.”
“We are sure to meet, with the return of light.”
“Believe it not, brave gentleman. Our lady will thrust the spars under
her girdle, and pass a fleet unseen.—A sailor’s blessing on you—fair
winds and a plenty; a safe landfall, and a cheerful home! Deal kindly
by the boy, and, in all but evil wishes to my vessel, success light on
your ensign!”
The seamen of both boats dashed their oars into the water at the same
instant, and the two parties were quickly without the hearing of the
voice.