University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

When the whale-boat obtained the position we
have described, the young lieutenant, who, in
consequence of commanding a schooner, was
usually addressed by the title of captain, stepped
on the rocks, followed by the youthful midshipman,
who had quitted the barge, to aid in the hazardous
duty of their expedition.

“This is, at best, but a Jacob's ladder we have
to climb,” said Barnstable, casting his eyes upwards
at the difficult ascent, “and it's by no
means certain that we shall be well received, when
we get up, though we should even reach the top.”

“We are under the guns of the frigate,” returned
the boy; “and you remember, sir, three
oar blades and a pistol, repeated from the barge,
will draw her fire.”

“Yes, on our own heads. Boy, never be so
foolish as to trust a long shot. It makes a great
smoke and some noise, but it's a terrible uncertain
manner of throwing old iron about. In such a
business as this, I would sooner trust Tom Coffin

and his harpoon to back me, than the best broad-side
that ever rattled out of the three deeks of a
ninety-gun ship. Come, gather your limbs together,
and try if you can walk on terra firma,
Master Coffin.”

The seaman who was addressed by this dire
appellation, arose slowly from the place where he
was stationed as cockswain of the boat, and seemed
to ascend high in air by the gradual evolution
of numberless folds in his body. When erect, he
stood nearly six feet and as many inches in his
shoes, though, when elevated in his most perpendicular
attitude, there was a forward inclination
about his head and shoulders, that appeared to be
the consequence of habitual confinement in limited
lodgings. His whole frame was destitute of
the rounded outlines of a well-formed man, though
his enormous hands furnished a display of bones
and sinews which gave indications of gigantic
strength. On his head he wore a little, low, brown
hat of wool, with an arched top, that threw an expression
of peculiar solemnity and hardness over
his harsh visage, the sharp prominent features of
which were completely encircled by a set of black
whiskers, that began to be grizzled a little with
age. One of his hands grasped, with a sort of
instinct, the staff of a bright harpoon, the lower
end of which he placed firmly on the rock, as, in
obedience to the order of his commander, he left
the place, where, considering his vast dimensions, he
had been established in an incredibly small space.

As soon as Captain Barnstable received this
addition to his strength, after giving a few
precautionary orders to the men in the boat, he
proceeded to the difficult task of ascending the
rocks. Notwithstanding the great daring and
personal agility of Barnstable, he would have
been completely baffled in this attempt, but for the

assistance he occasionally received from his cockswain,
whose prodigious strength, and great
length of limbs, enabled him to make exertions
which it would have been useless for most men to
attempt. When within a few feet of the summit,
they availed themselves of a projecting rock, to
pause for consultation and breath; both of which
seemed necessary for their further movements.

“This will be but a bad place for a retreat,
if we should happen to fall in with enemies,” said
Barnstable. “Where are we to look for this pilot,
Mr. Merry, or how are we to know him; and
what certainty have you that he will not betray
us?”

“The question you are to put to him is written
on this bit of paper,” returned the boy, as he
handed the other the word of recognition; “we
made the signal on the point of the rock at yon
headland, but as he must have seen our boat, he
will follow us to this place. As to his betraying
us, he seems to have the confidence of Captain
Munson, who has kept a bright look-out for him
ever since we made the land.”

“Ay,” muttered the lieutenant, “and I shall
have a bright look-out kept on him, now we are
on the land. I like not this business of hugging
the shore so closely, nor have I much faith in any
traitor. What think you of it, Master Coffin?”

The hardy old seaman, thus addressed, turned
his grave visage on his commander, and replied
with a becoming gravity—

“Give me plenty of sea-room, and good canvass,
where there is no 'casion for pilots at all,
sir. For my part, I was born on board a chebac-co-man,
and never could see the use of more land
than now and then a small island, to raise a few
vegetables, and to dry your fish—I'm sure the

sight of it always makes me feel oncomfortable,
unless we have the wind dead off shore.”

“Ah! Tom, you are a sensible fellow,” said
Barnstable, with an air half comic, half serious.
“But we must be moving; the sun is just touching
those clouds to sea-ward, and God keep us
from riding out this night at anchor in such a
place as this.”

Laying his hand on a projection of the rock
above him, Barnstable swung himself forward,
and following this movement with a desperate
leap or two, he stood at once on the brow of the
cliff. His cockswain very deliberately raised the
midshipman after his officer, and proceeding with
more caution, but less exertion, he soon placed
himself by his side.

When they reached the level land, that lay
above the cliffs, and began to inquire, with curious
and wary eyes, into the surrounding scenery, the
adventurers discovered a cultivated country, divided,
in the usual manner, by hedges and walls.
Only one habitation for man, however, and that
a small dilapidated cottage, stood within a mile
of them, most of the dwellings being placed as
far as convenience would permit, from the fogs
and damps of the ocean.

“Here seems to be neither any thing to apprehend,
nor the object of our search,” said Barnstable,
when he had taken the whole view in his
survey; “I fear we have landed to no purpose,
Mr. Merry. What say you, long Tom; see you
what we want?”

“I see no pilot, sir,” returned the cockswain;
“but it's an ill wind that blows luck to nobody;
there is a mouthful of fresh meat stowed away
under that row of bushes, that would make a
double ration to all hands in the Ariel.”

The midshipman laughed, as he pointed out to

Barnstable the object of the cockswain's solicitude,
which proved to be a fat ox, quietly ruminating
under a hedge near them.

“There's many a hungry fellow aboard of us,”
said the boy merrily, “who would be glad to second
long Tom's motion, if the time and business
would permit us to slay the animal.”

“It's but a lubber's blow, Mr. Merry,” returned
the cockswain, without a muscle of his hard
face yielding, as he struck the end of his harpoon
violently against the earth, and then made a motion
toward poising his weapon; “let Captain
Barnstable but say the word, and I'll drive the
iron through him to the quick; I've sent it to the
seizing in many a whale, that hadn't a jacket of
such blubber as that fellow wears.”

“Pshaw! you are not on a whaling voyage,
where every thing that offers is game,” said Barnstable,
turning himself pettishly away from the
beast, as if he distrusted his own forbearance;
“but stand fast! I see some one approaching
behind the hedge. Look to your arms, Mr.
Merry—the first thing we hear may be a shot.”

“Not from that cruiser,” cried the thoughtless
lad; “he is a younker, like myself, and would
hardly dare run down upon such a formidable
force as we muster.”

“You say true, boy,” returned Barnstable, relinquishing
the grasp he held on his pistol. “He
comes on with caution, as if afraid. He is small,
and is in drab, though I should hardly call it a
pea-jacket—and yet he may be our man. Stand
you both here, while I go and hail him.”

As Barnstable walked rapidly towards the
hedge, that in part concealed the stranger, the latter
stopped suddenly, and seemed to be in doubt
whether to advance or to retreat. Before he had

decided on either, the active sailor was within a
few feet of him.

“Pray, sir,” said Barnstable, “what water
have we in this bay?”

The slight form of the stranger started, with
an extraordinary emotion, at this question, and
he shrunk aside involuntarily, as if to conceal
his features, before he answered, in a voice that
was barely audible—

“I should think it would be the water of the
German ocean.”

“Indeed! you must have passed no small part
of your short life in the study of geography, to
be so well informed,” returned the lieutenant;
“perhaps, sir, your cunning is also equal to telling
me how long we shall detain you, if I make
you a prisoner, in order to enjoy the benefit of
your wit?”

To this alarming intimation, the youth who
was addressed made no reply; but, as he averted
his face, and concealed it with both his hands,
the offended seaman, believing that a salutary impression
had been made upon the fears of his auditor,
was about to proceed with his interrogatories.
The singular agitation of the stranger's frame,
however, caused the lieutenant to continue silent
a few moments longer, when, to his utter amazement,
he discovered that what he had mistaken
for alarm, was produced by an endeavour, on the
part of the youth, to suppress a violent fit of
laughter.

“Now, by all the whales in the sea,” cried Barnstable,
“but you are merry out of season, young
gentleman. It's quite bad enough to be ordered to
anchor in such a bay as this, with a storm brewing
before my eyes, without landing to be laughed at,
by a stripling who has not strength to carry a
beard if he had one, when I ought to be getting

an offing for the safety of both body and soul.
But I'll know more of you and your jokes, if I
take you into my own mess, and am giggled out
of my sleep for the rest of the cruise.”

As the commander of the schooner concluded,
he approached the stranger, with an air of offering
some violence, but the other shrunk back
from his extended arm, and exclaimed, with a
voice in which real terror had gotten the better of
mirth—

“Barnstable! dear Barnstable! would you
harm me?”

The sailor recoiled several feet, at this unexpected
appeal, and rubbing his eyes, he threw
the cap from his head, before he cried—

“What do I hear! and what do I see! There
lies the Ariel—and yonder is the frigate. Can
this be Katherine Plowden!”

His doubts, if any doubts remained, were soon
removed, for the stranger sunk on the bank at
her side, in an attitude in which female bashfulness
was beautifully contrasted to her attire,
and gave vent to her mirth in an uncontrollable
burst of merriment.

From that moment, all thoughts of his duty,
and the pilot, or even of the Ariel, appeared to
be banished from the mind of the seaman, who
sprang to her side, and joined in her mirth,
though he hardly knew why or wherefore.

When the diverted girl had in some degree recovered
her composure, she turned to her companion,
who had sat good-naturedly by her side,
content to be laughed at, and said—

“But this is not only silly, but cruel to others.
I owe you an explanation of my unexpected appearance,
and perhaps, also, of my extraordinary
attire.”

“I can anticipate every thing,” cried Barnstable;
“you heard that we were on the coast, and
have flown to redeem the promises you made me
in America. But I ask no more; the chaplain
of the frigate—”

“May preach as usual, and to as little purpose,”
interrupted the disguised female; “but no
nuptial benediction shall be pronounced over me,
until I have effected the object of this hazardous
experiment of mine. You are not usually selfish,
Barnstable; would you have me forgetful of the
happiness of others?”

“Of whom do you speak?”

“My poor, my devoted cousin. I heard that
two vessels, answering the description of the frigate
and the Ariel, were seen hovering on the
coast, and I determined at once to have a communication
with you. I have followed your movements
for a week, in this dress, but have been unsuccessful
till now. To-day I observed you to
approach nearer to the shore than usual, and happily,
by being adventurous, I have been successful.”

“Ay, God knows we are near enough to the
land! But does Captain Munson know of your
wish to get on board his ship?”

“Certainly not—none know of it but yourself.
I thought that if Griffith and you could
learn our situation, you might be tempted to hazard
a little to redeem us from our thraldom. In
this paper I have prepared such an account as
will, I trust, excite all your chivalry, and by
which you may govern your movements.”

“Our movements!” interrupted Barnstable,
“you will pilot us in person.”

“Then there's two of them,” said a hoarse
voice near them.

The alarmed female shrieked as she recovered

her feet, but she still adhered, with instinctive dependence,
to the side of her lover. Barnstable,
who recognised the tones of his cockswain, bent
an angry brow on the sober visage that was peering
at them above the hedge, and demanded the
meaning of the interruption.

“Seeing you were hull-down, sir, and not
knowing but the chase might lead you ashore, Mr.
Merry thought it best to have a look-out kept. I
told him that you were overhauling the mail bags
of the messenger for the news, but as he was an
officer, sir, and I nothing but a common hand, I
did as he ordered.”

“Return, sir, where I ordered you to remain,”
said Barnstable, “and desire Mr. Merry to wait
my pleasure.”

The cockswain gave the usual reply of an obedient
seaman, but before he left the hedge, he
stretched out one of his brawny arms towards the
ocean, and said, in tones of solemnity suited to
his apprehensions and character—

“I showed you how to knot a reef-point, and
pass a gasket, Captain Barnstable, nor do I believe
you could even take two half hitches when
you first came aboard of the Spalmacitty. These
be things that a man is soon expart in, but it takes
the time of his nat'ral life to larn to know the
weather. There be streaked wind-galls in the
offing, that speak as plainly, to all that see them,
and know God's language in the clouds, as ever
you spoke through a trumpet, to shorten sail; besides,
sir, don't you hear the sea moaning, as if it
knew the hour was at hand when it was to wake
up from its sleep!”

“Ay, Tom,” returned his officer, walking to
the edge of the cliffs, and throwing a seaman's
glance at the gloomy ocean, “'tis a threatening
night indeed: but this pilot must be had—and—”

“Is that the man?” interrupted the cockswain,
pointing towards a man who was standing not far
from them, an attentive observer of their proceedings,
at the same time that he was narrowly watched
himself by the young midshipman. “God
send that he knows his trade well, for the bottom
of a ship will need eyes to find its road out of this
wild anchorage.”

“That must indeed be the man!” exclaimed
Barnstable, at once recalled to his duty. He then
held a short dialogue with his female companion,
whom he left concealed by the hedge, and proceeded
to address the stranger. When near
enough to be heard, the commander of the
schooner demanded—

“What water have you in this bay?”

The stranger, who seemed to expect this question,
answered, without the least hesitation—

“Enough to take all out in safety, who have
entered with confidence.”

“You are the man I seek,” cried Barnstable;
“are you ready to go off?”

“Both ready and willing,” returned the pilot,
“and there is need of haste. I would give the
best hundred guineas that ever were coined for
two hours more use of that sun which has left us,
or for even half the time of this fading twilight.”

“Think you our situation so bad?” said the
lieutenant. “Follow this gentleman to the boat
then; I will join you by the time you can descend
the cliffs. I believe I can prevail on another hand
to go off with us.”

“Time is more precious now than any number
of hands,” said the pilot, throwing a glance of
impatience from under his lowering brows, “and
the consequences of delay must be visited on those
who occasion it.”

“And, sir, I will meet the consequences with

those who have a right to inquire into my conduct,”
said Barnstable, haughtily.

With this warning and retort, they separated;
the young officer retracing his steps impatiently
towards his mistress, muttering his indignation in
suppressed execrations, and the pilot, drawing the
leathern belt of his pea-jacket mechanically
around his body, as he followed the midshipman
and cockswain to their boat, in moody silence.

Barnstable found the disguised female who had
announced herself as Katherine Plowden, awaiting
his return, with intense anxiety depicted on
every feature of her intelligent countenance. As
he felt all the responsibility of his situation, notwithstanding
his cool reply to the pilot, the young
man hastily drew an arm of the apparent boy,
forgetful of her disguise, through his own, and
led her forward.

“Come, Katherine,” he said, “the time urges
to be prompt.”

“What pressing necessity is there for immediate
departure?” she inquired, checking his movements
by withdrawing herself from his side.

“You heard the ominous prognostic of my
cockswain, on the weather, and I am forced to
add my own testimony to his opinion. 'Tis a
crazy night that threatens us, though I cannot repent
of coming into the bay, since it has led to
this interview.”

“God forbid that we should either of us have
cause to repent of it,” said Katherine, the paleness
of anxiety chasing away the rich bloom that
had mantled the animated face of the brunette.
“But you have the paper—follow its directions,
and come to our rescue; you will find us willing
captives, if Griffith and yourself are our conquerors.”

“What mean you, Katherine!” exclaimed her

lover; “you at least are now in safety—'twould
be madness to tempt your fate again. My vessel
can and shall protect you, until your cousin is
redeemed; and then, remember, I have a claim on
you for life.”

“And how would you dispose of me in the interval,”
said the young maiden, retreating slowly
from his advances.

“In the Ariel—by heaven, you shall be her
commander; I will bear that rank only in name.”

“I thank you, thank you, Barnstable, but distrust
my abilities to fill such a station,” she said,
laughing, though the colour that again crossed
her youthful features was like the glow of a summer's
sunset, and even her mirthful eyes seemed to
reflect their tints. “Do not mistake me, saucy-one.
If I have done more than my sex will warrant,
remember it was through a holy motive,
and if I have more than a woman's enterprise, it
must be—”

“To lift you above the weakness of your sex,”
he cried, “and to enable you to show your noble
confidence in me.”

“To fit me for, and to keep me worthy of being
one day your wife.” As she uttered these
words, she turned, and disappeared, with a rapidity
that eluded his attempt to detain her, behind
an angle of the hedge, that was near them. For
a moment, Barnstable remained motionless
through surprise, and when he sprang forward in
pursuit, he was able only to catch a glimpse of
her light form, in the gloom of the evening, as
she again vanished in a little thicket at some
distance.

Barnstable was about to pursue, when the air
lighted with a sudden flash, and the bellowing
report of a cannon rolled along the cliffs, and
was echoed among the hills far inland.

“Ay, grumble away, old dotard!” the disappointed
young sailor muttered to himself, while
he reluctantly obeyed the signal; “you are in as
great a hurry to get out of your danger as you
were to run into it.”

The quick reports of three muskets from the
barge beneath where he stood, urged him to
quicken his pace, and as he threw himself carelessly
down the rugged and dangerous passes of
the cliffs, his experienced eye beheld the wellknown
lights displayed from the frigate, which
commanded the recall of all her boats.