 | CHAPTER VII. The water-witch, or, The skimmer of the seas |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
Made me neglect my studies, lose my time,
War with good counsel, set the world at nought.”
Two Gentlemen of Verona.
Ludlow quitting the Lust in Rust with a wavering
purpose. Throughout the whole of the preceding interview,
he had jealously watched the eye and features
of la belle Barbérie; and he had not failed to
draw his conclusions from a mien that too plainly
expressed a deep interest in the free-trader. For a
time, only, had he been induced, by the calmness
and self-possession with which she received her uncle
and himself, to believe that she had not visited the
Water-Witch at all; but when the gay and reckless
being who governed the movements of that extraordinary
vessel, appeared, he could no longer flatter
himself with this hope. He now believed that her
choice for life had been made; and while he deplored
the infatuation which could induce so gifted a woman
to forget her station and character, he was himself
too frank not to see that the individual who had in
so short a time gained this ascendency over the feelings
of Alida, was, in many respects, fitted to exercise
a powerful influence over the imagination of a
youthful and secluded female.
There was a struggle in the mind of the young
commander, between his duty and his feelings. Remembering
the artifice by which he had formerly
fallen into the power of the smugglers, he had taken
his precautions so well in the present visit to the
villa, that he firmly believed he had the person of
his lawless rival at his mercy. To avail himself of this
advantage, or to retire and leave him in possession of
his mistress and his liberty, was the point mooted in
like most of the seamen of that age, Ludlow had all
the loftier sentiments that become a gentleman. He
felt keenly for Alida, and he shrunk, with sensitive
pride, from incurring the imputation of having acted
under the impulses of disappointment. To these
motives of forbearance, was also to be added the
inherent reluctance which, as an officer of rank,
he felt to the degradation of being employed in a
duty that more properly belongs to men of less elevated
ambition. He looked on himself as a defender
of the rights and glory of his sovereign, and not as
a mercenary instrument of those who collected her
customs; and though he would not have hesitated
to incur any rational hazard, in capturing the vessel
of the smuggler, or in making captives of all or any
of her crew on their proper element, he disliked the
appearance of seeking a solitary individual on the
land. In addition to this feeling, there was his own
pledge that he met the proscribed dealer in contraband
on neutral ground. Still the officer of the Queen
had his orders, and he could not shut his eyes to the
general obligations of duty. The brigantine was
known to inflict so much loss on the revenue of the
crown, more particularly in the other hemisphere,
that an especial order had been issued by the Admiral
of the station, for her capture. Here then was
an opportunity of depriving the vessel of that master-spirit
which, notwithstanding the excellence of its
construction, had alone so long enabled it to run the
gauntlet of a hundred cruisers with impunity. Agitated
by these contending feelings and reflections,
the young sailor left the door of the villa, and came
upon its little lawn, in order to reflect with less interruption,
and, indeed, to breathe more freely.
The night had advanced into the first watch of
the seaman. The shadow of the mountain, however,
still covered the grounds of the villa, the river, and
deeper than the obscurity which dimmed the surface
of the rolling ocean beyond. Objects were so indistinct
as to require close and steady looks to ascertain
their character, while the setting of the scene might
be faintly traced by its hazy and indistinct outlines.
The curtains of la Cour des Fées had been drawn,
and, though the lights were still shining within, the
eye could not penetrate the pavilion. Ludlow gazed
about him, and then held his way reluctantly towards
the water.
In endeavoring to conceal the interior of her
apartment from the eyes of those without, Alida had
suffered a corner of the drapery to remain open.
When Ludlow reached the gate that led to the
landing, he turned to take a last look at the villa;
and, favored by his new position, he caught a glimpse,
through the opening, of the person of her who was
still uppermost in his thoughts.
La belle Barbérie was seated at the little table,
by whose side she had been found, earlier in the
evening. An elbow rested on the precious wood, and
one fair hand supported a brow that was thoughtful
far beyond the usual character of its expression, if
not melancholy. The commander of the Coquette
felt the blood rushing to his heart, for he fancied that
the beautiful and pensive countenance was that of a
penitent. It is probable that the idea quickened his
drooping hopes; for Ludlow believed it might not
yet be too late to rescue the woman, he so sincerely
loved, from the precipice over which she was suspended.
The seemingly irretrievable step, already
taken; was forgotten; and the generous young sailor
was about to rush back to la Cour des Fées, to implore
its mistress to be just to herself, when the hand
fell from her polished brow, and Alida raised her
face, with a look which denoted that she was no
issue.
When Alida lifted her eyes, it was in kindness,
and with that frank ingenuousness with which an
unperverted female greets the countenance of those
who have her confidence. She smiled, though still
in sadness rather than in pleasure; and she spoke,
but the distance prevented her words from being
audible. At the next instant, Seadrift moved into
the space visible through the half-drawn drapery,
and took her hand. Alida made no effort to withdraw
the member; but, on the contrary, she looked
up into his face with still less equivocal interest, and
appeared to listen to his voice with an absorbed attention.
The gate was swung violently open, and
Ludlow had reached the margin of the river before
he again paused.
The barge of the Coquette was found where her
commander had ordered his people to lie concealed,
and he was about to enter it, when the noise of the
little gate, again shutting with the wind, induced him
to cast a look behind. A human form was distinctly
to be seen, against the light walls of the villa,
descending towards the river. The men were commanded
to keep close, and, withdrawing within the
shadow of a fence, the captain waited the approach
of the new-comer.
As the unknown person passed, Ludlow recognized
the agile form of the free-trader. The latter advanced
to the margin of the river, and gazed warily
about him for several minutes. A low but distinct
note, on a common ship's-call, was then heard. The
summons was soon succeeded by the appearance of
a small skiff, which glided out of the grass on the
opposite side of the stream, and approached the spot
where Seadrift awaited its arrival. The free-trader
sprang lightly into the little boat, which immediately
began to glide out of the river. As the skiff passed
pulled by a single seaman; and, as his own boat was
manned by six lusty rowers, he felt that the person
of the man whom he so much envied was at length
fairly and honorably in his power. We shall not attempt
to analyze the emotion that was ascendant in
the mind of the young officer. It is enough for our
purpose to add, that he was soon in his boat and in
full pursuit.
As the course to be taken by the barge was diagonal
rather than direct, a few powerful strokes of
the oars brought it so near the skiff, that Ludlow,
by placing his hand on the gunwale of the latter,
could arrest its progress.
“Though so lightly equipped, fortune favors you
less in boats than in larger craft, Master Seadrift;”
said Ludlow, when, by virtue of a strong arm, he
had drawn his prize so near, as to find himself seated
within a few feet of his prisoner. “We meet on our
proper element, where there can be no neutrality
between one of the contraband and a servant of the
Queen.”
The start, the half-repressed exclamation, and the
momentary silence, showed that the captive had been
taken completely by surprise.
“I admit your superior dexterity,” he at length
said, speaking low and not without agitation. “I
am your prisoner, Captain Ludlow; and I would now
wish to know your intentions in disposing of my person.”
“That is soon answered. You must be content to
take the homely accommodations of the Coquette,
for the night, instead of the more luxurious cabin of
your Water-Witch. What the authorities of the
Province may decide, to-morrow, it exceeds the
knowledge of a poor commander in the navy to say.”
“The lord Cornbury has retired to—?”
“A gaol,” said Ludlow, observing that the other
asked a question. “The kinsman of our gracious
Queen speculates on the chances of human fortune,
within the walls of a prison. His successor, the
brigadier Hunter, is thought to have less sympathy
for the moral infirmities of human nature!”
“We deal lightly with dignities!” exclaimed the
captive, with all his former gaiety of tone and manner.
“You have your revenge for some personal
liberties that were certainly taken, not a fortnight
since, with this boat and her crew; still, I have much
mistaken your character, if unnecessary severity
forms one of its features. May I communicate with
the brigantine?”
“Freely—when she is once in the care of a
Queen's officer.”
“Oh, Sir, you disparage the qualities of my mistress,
in supposing there exists a parallel with your
own! The Water-Witch will go at large, till a far
different personage shall become your captive.—May
I communicate with the shore?”
“To that there exists no objection—if you will
point out the means.”
“I have one, here, who will prove a faithful messenger.”
“Too faithful to the delusion which governs all
your followers! Your man must be your companion
in the Coquette, Master Seadrift, though;” and Ludlow
spoke in melancholy, “if there be any on the
land, who take so near an interest in your welfare
as to find more sorrow in uncertainty than in the
truth, one of my own crew, in any of whom confidence
may be placed, shall do your errand.”
“Let it be so;” returned the free-trader, as if
satisfied that he could, in reason, expect no more.
“Take this ring to the lady of yonder dwelling,” he
continued, when Ludlow had selected the messenger,
“and say that he who sends it is about to visit the
Should there be question of the motive,
you can speak to the manner of my arrest.”
“And, mark me, fellow—” added his captain;
“that duty done, look to the idlers on the shore, and
see that no boat quits the river, to apprize the smugglers
of their loss.”
The man, who was armed in the fashion of a seaman
on boat duty, received these orders with the
customary deference; and the barge having drawn
to the shore for that purpose, he landed.
“And now, Master Seadrift, having thus far complied
with your wishes, I may expect you will not be
deaf to mine. Here is a seat at your service in my
barge, and I confess it will please me to see it occupied.”
As the captain spoke, he reached forth an arm,
partly in natural complaisance, and partly with a
carelessness that denoted some consciousness of the
difference in their rank, both to aid the other to
comply with his request, and, at need, to enforce it.
But the free-trader seemed to repel the familiarity;
for he drew back, at first, like one who shrunk sensitively
from the contact, and then, without touching
the arm that was extended with a purpose so equivocal,
he passed lightly from the skiff into the barge,
declining assistance. The movement was scarcely
made, before Ludlow quitted the latter, and occupied
the place which Seadrift had just vacated. He
commanded one of his men to exchange with the
seaman of the brigantine; and, having made these
preparations, he again addressed his prisoner.
“I commit you to the care of my cockswain and
these worthy tars, Master Seadrift. We shall steer
different ways. You will take possession of my cabin,
where all will be at your disposal; ere the middle
watch is called, I shall be there to prevent the pennant
turning the people's heads from their allegiance.”
Ludlow then whispered his orders to his cockswain,
and they separated. The barge proceeded to the
mouth of the river, with the long and stately sweep
of the oars, that marks the progress of a man-of-war's
boat; while the skiff followed, noiselessly,
and, aided by its color and dimensions, nearly invisible.
When the two boats entered the waters of the
bay, the barge held on its course towards the distant
ship; while the skiff inclined to the right, and steered
directly for the bottom of the Cove. The precaution
of the dealer in contraband had provided his
little boat with muffled sculls; and Ludlow, when
he was enabled to discover the fine tracery of the
lofty and light spars of the Water-Witch, as they
rose above the tops of the dwarf trees that lined
the shore, had no reason to think his approach was
known. Once assured of the presence and position
of the brigantine, he was enabled to make his advances
with all the caution that might be necessary.
Some ten or fifteen minutes were required to bring
the skiff beneath the bowsprit of the beautiful craft,
without giving the alarm to those who doubtless were
watching on her decks. The success of our adventurer,
however, appeared to be complete; for he
was soon holding by the cable, and not the smallest
sound, of any kind, had been heard in the brigantine.
Ludlow now regretted he had not entered the Cove
with his barge; for, so profound and unsuspecting
was the quiet of the vessel, that he doubted not of
his ability to have carried her by a coup-de-main.
Vexed by his oversight, and incited by the prospects
of success, he began to devise those expedients which
would naturally suggest themselves to a seaman in
his situation.
The wind was southerly, and, though not strong,
the night air. As the brigantine lay protected from
the influence of the tides, she obeyed the currents
of the other element; and, while her bows looked
outward, her stern pointed towards the bottom of
the basin. The distance from the land was not fifty
fathoms, and Ludlow did not fail to perceive that
the vessel rode by a kedge, and that her anchors,
of which there was a good provision, were all snugly
stowed. These facts induced the hope that he might
separate the hawser that alone held the brigantine,
which, in the event of his succeeding, he had every
reason to believe would drift ashore, before the alarm
could be given to her crew, sail set, or an anchor let
go. Although neither he nor his companion possessed
any other implement to effect this object, than the
large seaman's knife of the latter, the temptation
was too great not to make the trial. The project
was flattering; for, though the vessel in that situation
would receive no serious injury, the unavoidable
delay of heaving her off the sands would enable his
boats, and perhaps the ship herself, to reach the
place in time to secure their prize. The bargeman
was asked for his knife, and Ludlow himself made
the first cut upon the solid and difficult mass. The
steel had no sooner touched the compact yarns, than
a dazzling glare of light shot into the face of him
who held it. Recovering from the shock, and rubbing
his eyes, our startled adventurer gazed upwards,
with that consciousness of wrong which assails us
when detected in any covert act, however laudable
may be its motive;—a sort of homage that nature,
under every circumstance, pays to loyal dealings.
Though Ludlow felt, at the instant of this interruption,
that he stood in jeopardy of his life, the concern
it awakened was momentarily lost in the spectacle
before him. The bronzed and unearthly features
of the image were brightly illuminated; and, while
smallest movement, her malign and speaking smile
appeared to turn his futile effort into scorn! There
was no need to bid the seaman at the oars to do his
duty. No sooner did he catch the expression of that
mysterious face, than the skiff whirled away from
the spot, like a sea-fowl taking wing under alarm.
Though Ludlow, at each moment, expected a shot,
even the imminence of the danger did not prevent
him from gazing, in absorbed attention, at the image.
The light by which it was illumined, though condensed,
powerful, and steadily cast, wavered a little, and
exhibited her attire. Then the captain saw the
truth of what Seadrift had asserted; for, by some
process of the machine into which he had not leisure
to inquire, the sea-green mantle had been changed
for a slighter robe of the azure of the deep waters.
As if satisfied with having betrayed the intention
of the sorceress to depart, the light immediately
vanished.
“This mummery is well maintained!” muttered
Ludlow, when the skiff had reached a distance that
assured him of safety. “Here is a symptom that the
rover means soon to quit the coast. The change of
dress is some signal to his superstitious and deluded
crew. It is my task to disappoint his mistress, as he
terms her, though it must be confessed that she does
not sleep at her post.”
During the ten succeeding minutes, our foiled adventurer
had leisure, no less than motive, to feel how
necessary is success to any project whose means admit
of dispute. Had the hawser been cut and the
brigantine stranded, it is probable that the undertaking
of the captain would have been accounted
among those happy expedients which, in all pursuits,
are thought to distinguish the mental efforts of men
particularly gifted by Nature; while, under the actual
circumstances, he who would have reaped all
with the apprehension that his unlucky design might
become known. His companion was no other than
Robert Yarn, the fore-top-man, who, on a former occasion,
had been heard to affirm, that he had already
enjoyed so singular a view of the lady of the brigantine,
while assisting to furl the fore-top-sail of the
Coquette.
“This has been a false board, Master Yarn,” observed
the captain, when the skiff was past the entrance
of the Cove, and some distance down the bay;
“for the credit of our cruise, we will not enter the
occurrence in the log. You understand me, Sir: I
trust a word is sufficient for so shrewd a wit?”
“I hope I know my duty, your Honor, which is to
obey orders, though it may break owners,” returned
the top-man. “Cutting a hawser with a knife is but
slow work in the best of times; but though one who
has little right to speak in the presence of a gentleman
so well taught, it is my opinion that the steel is
not yet sharpened which is to part any rope aboard
yon rover, without the consent of the black-looking
woman under her bowsprit.”
“And what is the opinion of the berth-deck concerning
this strange brigantine, that we have so long
been following without success?”
“That we shall follow her till the last biscuit is
eaten, and the scuttle-butt shall be dry, with no better
fortune. It is not my business to teach your
Honor; but there is not a man in the ship, who ever
expects to be a farthing the better for her capture.
Men are of many minds concerning the `Skimmer
of the Seas;' but all are agreed that, unless aided
by some uncommon luck, which may amount to the
same thing as being helped by him who seldom lends
a hand to any honest undertaking, that he is altogether
such a seaman as another like him does not
sail the ocean!”
“I am sorry that my people should have reason to
think so meanly of our own skill. The ship has not
yet had a fair chance. Give her an open sea, and a
cap-full of wind, and she 'll defy all the black women
that the brigantine can stow. As to your `Skimmer
of the Seas,' man or devil, he is our prisoner.”
“And does your Honor believe that the trim-built
and light-sailing gentleman we overhauled in this skiff,
is in truth that renowned rover?” asked Yarn, resting
on his sculls, in the interest of the moment. “There
are some on board the ship, who maintain that the
man in question is taller than the big tide-waiter at
Plymouth, with a pair of shoulders—”
“I have reason to know they are mistaken. If we
are more enlightened than our shipmates, Master
Yarn, let us be close-mouthed, that others do not steal
our knowledge—hold, here is a crown with the face
of King Louis; he is our bitterest enemy, and you
may swallow him whole, if you please, or take him
in morsels, as shall best suit your humor. But remember
that our cruise in the skiff is under secret
orders, and the less we say about the anchor-watch
of the brigantine, the better.”
Honest Bob took the piece of silver, with a gusto
that no opinions of the marvellous could diminish;
and, touching his hat, he did not fail to make the
usual protestations of discretion. That night the
messmates of the fore-top-man endeavored, in vain,
to extract from him the particulars of his excursion
with the captain; though the direct answers to their
home questions were only evaded by allusions so dark
and ambiguous, as to give to that superstitious feeling
of the crew, which Ludlow had wished to lull,
twice its original force.
Not long after this short dialogue, the skiff reached
the side of the Coquette. Her commander found his
prisoner in possession of his own cabin, and, though
grave if not sad in demeanor, perfectly self-possessed.
and men, though, like Yarn, most of both classes
refused to believe that the handsome and gayly-attired
youth they had been summoned to receive, was
the notorious dealer in contraband.
Light observers of the forms under which human
qualities are exhibited, too often mistake their outward
signs. Though it is quite in reason to believe,
that he who mingles much in rude and violent scenes
should imbibe some of their rough and repelling aspects,
still it would seem that, as the stillest waters
commonly conceal the deepest currents, so the powers
to awaken extraordinary events are not unfrequently
cloaked under a chastened, and sometimes under
a cold, exterior. It has often happened, that the
most desperate and self-willed men are those whose
mien and manners would give reason to expect the
mildest and most tractable dispositions; while he who
has seemed a lion sometimes proves, in his real nature,
to be little better than a lamb.
Ludlow had reason to see that the incredulity of
his top-man had extended to most on board; and, as
he could not conquer his tenderness on the subject of
Alida and all that concerned her, while on the other
hand there existed no motive for immediately declaring
the truth, he rather favored the general impression
by his silence. First giving some orders of
the last importance at that moment, he passed into
the cabin, and sought a private interview with his
captive.
“That vacant state-room is at your service, Master
Seadrift,” he observed, pointing to the little
apartment opposite to the one he occupied himself.
“We are likely to be shipmates several days, unless
you choose to shorten the time, by entering into a capitulation
for the Water-Witch; in which case—”
“You had a proposition to make.”
Ludlow hesitated, cast an eye behind him, to be
captive.
“Sir, I will deal with you as becomes a seaman.
La belle Barbérie is dearer to me than ever woman
was before;—dearer, I fear, than ever woman will
be again. You need not learn that circumstances
have occurred,—Do you love the lady?”
“I do.”
“And she—fear not to trust the secret to one who
will not abuse the trust—returns she your affection?”
The mariner of the brigantine drew back with
dignity; and then, instantly recovering his ease, as if
fearful he might forget himself, he said with warmth,
“This trifling with woman's weakness is the besetting
sin of man! None may speak of her inclinations,
Captain Ludlow, but herself. It never shall
be said, that any of the sex had aught but fitting
reverence for their dependent state, their constant
and confiding love, their faithfulness in all the world's
trials, and their singleness of heart, from me.”
“These sentiments do you honor; and I could
wish, for your own sake, as well as that of others,
there was less of contrariety in your character. One
cannot but grieve—”
“You had a proposition, for the brigantine?”
“I would have said, that were the vessel yielded
without further pursuit, means might be found to
soften the blow to those who will otherwise be most
wounded by her capture.”
The face of the dealer in contraband had lost
some of its usual brightness and animation; the color
of the cheek was not as rich, and the eye was less at
ease, than in his former interviews with Ludlow.
But a smile of security crossed his fine features, when
the other spoke of the fate of the brigantine.
“The keel of the ship that is to capture the Water-Witch
is not yet laid,” he said, firmly; “nor is the
canvas that is to drive her through the water, wove!
is most occasion for her services.”
“This mummery of a supernatural aid may be of
use in holding the minds of the ignorant beings who
follow your fortunes, in subjection, but it is lost when
addressed to me. I have ascertained the position of
the brigantine—nay, I have been under her very
bowsprit, and so near her cut-water, as to have examined
her moorings. Measures are now taking to
improve my knowledge, and to secure the prize.”
The free-trader heard him without exhibiting
alarm, though he listened with an attention that
rendered his breathing audible.
“You found my people vigilant?” he rather carelessly
observed, than asked.
“So much so, that I have said the skiff was pulled
beneath her martingale, without a hail! Had there
been means, it would not have required many moments
to cut the hawser by which she rides, and to
have laid your beauteous vessel ashore!”
The gleam of Seadrift's eye was like the glance
of an eagle. It seemed to inquire, and to resent, in
the same instant. Ludlow shrunk from the piercing
look, and reddened to the brow,—whether with his
recollections, or not, it is unnecessary to explain.
“The worthy device was thought of!—nay, it was
attempted!” exclaimed the other, gathering confirmation
in the consciousness of his companion.—“You
did not—you could not succeed!”
“Our success will be proved in the result.”
“The lady of the brigantine forgot not her charge!
You saw her bright eye—her dark and meaning
face! Light shone on that mysterious countenance—
my words are true, Ludlow; thy tongue is silent, but
that honest countenance confesses all!”
The gay dealer in contraband turned away, and
laughed in his merriest manner.
“I knew it would be so,” he continued; “what
Trust me, you will find her coy as ever, and ill-disposed
to hold converse with a cruiser who speaks
so rudely through his cannon. Ha!—here are auditors!”
An officer, to announce the near approach of a
boat, entered. Both Ludlow and his prisoner started
at this intelligence, and it was not difficult to fancy
both believed that a message from the Water-Witch
might be expected. The former hastened on deck;
while the latter, notwithstanding a self-possession that
was so much practised, could not remain entirely at
his ease. He passed into the state-room, and it is
more than probable that he availed himself of the
window of its quarter-gallery, to reconnoitre those
who were so unexpectedly coming to the ship.
But after the usual hail and reply, Ludlow no
longer anticipated any proposal from the brigantine.
The answer had been what a seaman would call
lubberly; or it wanted that attic purity that men of
the profession rarely fail to use on all occasions, and
by the means of which they can tell a pretender to
their mysteries, with a quickness that is almost instinctive.
When the short, quick “boat-ahoy!” of
the sentinel on the gangway, was answered by the
“what do you want?” of a startled respondent in
the boat, it was received among the crew of the
Coquette with such a sneer as the tyro, who has
taken two steps in any particular branch of knowledge,
is apt to bestow on the blunders of him who
has taken but one.
A deep silence reigned, while a party consisting
of two men and as many females mounted the side
of the ship, leaving a sufficient number of forms
behind them in the boat to man its oars. Notwithstanding
more than one light was held in such a
manner as would have discovered the faces of the
party passed into the cabin without recognition.
“Master Cornelius Ludlow, one might as well put
on the Queen's livery at once, as to be steering in
this uncertain manner, between the Coquette and
the land, like a protested note sent from endorser to
endorser, to be paid,” commenced Alderman Van
Beverout, uncasing himself in the great cabin with
the coolest deliberation, while his niece sunk into a
chair unbidden, her two attendants standing near in
submissive silence. “Here is Alida, who has insisted
on paying so unseasonable a visit, and, what is worse
still, on dragging me in her train, though I am past
the day of following a woman about, merely because
she happens to have a pretty face. The hour is unseasonable,
and as to the motive—why, if Master
Seadrift has got a little out of his course, no great
harm can come of it, while the affair is in the hands
of so discreet and amiable an officer as yourself.”
The Alderman became suddenly mute; for the
door of the state-room opened, and the individual he
had named entered in person.
Ludlow needed no other explanation than a
knowledge of the persons of his guests, to understand
the motive of their visit. Turning to Alderman Van
Beverout, he said, with a bitterness he could not
repress—
“My presence may be intrusive. Use the cabin
as freely as your own house, and rest assured that
while it is thus honored, it shall be sacred to its
present uses. My duty calls me to the deck.”
The young man bowed gravely, and hurried from
the place. As he passed Alida, he caught a gleam
of her dark and eloquent eye, and he construed the
glance into an expression of gratitude.
| CHAPTER VII. The water-witch, or, The skimmer of the seas | |