Part 7 (1/2)

”Legacies and foreign tongues!” muttered the Alderman. ”One is well enough; but for the other, English and Dutch are all that the wisest man need learn. I never could understand an account of prot.i.t and loss in any other tongue, Patroon; and even a favorable balance never appears so great as it is, unless the account be rendered in one or the other of these rational dialects. Captain Ludlow, we thank you for your politeness, but here is one of my fellows to tell us that my own periagua is arrived; and, wis.h.i.+ng you a happy and a long cruise, as we say of lives, I bid you, adieu.”

The young seaman returned the salutations of the party, with a better grace than his previous solicitude to persuade them to enter his s.h.i.+p, might have given reason to expect. He even saw them descend the hill, towards the water of the outer bay, with entire composure; and it was only after they had entered a thicket which hid them from view, that he permitted his feelings to have sway.

Then indeed he drew the volume from his pocket and opened its leaves with an eagerness he could no longer control. It seemed as if he expected to read more, in the pages, than the author had caused to be placed there; but when his eye caught sight of a sealed billet, the legacy of M. de Barberie fell at his feet; and the paper was torn asunder, with all the anxiety of one who expected to find in its contents a decree of life or death.

Amazement was clearly the first emotion of the young seaman. He read and re-read; struck his brow with his hand; gazed about him at the land and at the water; re-perused the note; examined the superscription, which was simply to 'Capt. Ludlow, of Her Majesty's s.h.i.+p Coquette:' smiled; muttered between his teeth; seemed vexed, and yet delighted; read the note again, word by word, and finally thrust it into his pocket, with the air of a man who had found reason for both regret and satisfaction in its contents.

Chapter VI.

”--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 s.h.i.+ps 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 fool-hardy.”

”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 pa.s.sage in Her Majesty's s.h.i.+p 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!”