University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.

—Merchant of Venice.

As the day advanced, the appearances of a fresh
sea breeze setting in gradually grew stronger; and,
with the increase of the wind, were to be seen all
the symptoms of an intention to leave the harbour
on the part of the Bristol trader. The sailing of a
large ship was an event of much more importance
in an American port, sixty years ago, than at the

present hour, when a score is frequently seen to arrive
and depart from one haven in a single day. Although
claiming to be inhabitants of one of the principal
towns of the colony, the good people of Newport
did not witness the movements on board the
`Caroline” with that species of indolent regard
which is the fruit of satiety in sights as well as in
graver things, and with which, in the course of time,
the evolutions of even a fleet come to be contemplated.
On the contrary, the wharves were crowded
with boys, and indeed with idlers of every growth.
Even many of the more considerate and industrious
of the citizens were seen loosening the close grasp
they usually kept on the precious minutes, and allowing
them to escape uncounted, though not entirely
unheeded, as they yielded to the ascendency
of curiosity over interest, and strayed from their
shops, and their work-yards, to gaze upon the noble
spectacle of a moving ship.

The tardy manner in which the crew of the
“Caroline” made their preparations, however, exhausted
the patience of more than one time-saving
citizen. Quite as many of the better sort of the
spectators had left the wharves as still remained,
and yet the vessel spread to the breeze but the solitary
sheet of canvas which has been already named.
Instead of answering the wishes of hundreds of
weary eyes, the noble ship was seen sheering about
her anchor, inclining from the passing wind, as her
bows were alternately turned to the right and to the
left, like a restless courser restrained by the grasp of
the groom, chafing his bit, and with difficulty keeping
those limbs upon the earth with which he is
shortly to bound around the ring. After more than
an hour of unaccountable delay, a rumour was spread
among the crowd that an accident had occurred, by
which some important individual, belonging to the
complement of the vessel, was severely injured.

But this rumour passed away also, and was nearly
forgotten, when a sheet of flame was seen issuing
from a bow-port of the “Caroline,” driving before
it a cloud of curling and mounting smoke, and which
was succeeded by the instant roar of a discharge of
artillery. A bustle, like that which usually precedes
the immediate announcement of any long attended
event, took place among the weary expectants on
the land, and every one now felt certain, that, whatever
might have occurred, it was settled that the ship
should proceed.

Of all this delay, the several movements on board,
the subsequent signal of sailing, and of the impatience
in the crowd, Wilder had been a grave and
close observer. Posted with his back against the
upright fluke of a condemned anchor, on a wharf a
little apart from that occupied, by most of the other
spectators, he had remained an hour in the same position,
scarcely bending his look to his right hand or
to his left. When the gun was fired he started, not
with the nervous impulse which had made a hundred
others do precisely the same thing, but to turn an
anxious and rapid glance along the streets that came
within the range of his eye. From this hasty and
uneasy examination, he soon returned into his former
reclining posture, though the wandering of his glances,
and the whole expression of his meaning countenance,
would have told an observer that some
event, to which the young mariner looked forward
with excessive interest, was on the eve of its consummation.
As minute after minute, however, rolled
by, his composure was gradually restored, and a
smile of satisfaction lighted his features, while his
lips moved like those of a man who expressed his
pleasure in a soliloquy. It was in the midst of these
agreeable meditations, that the sound of many voices
met his ears; and, turning, he saw a large party
within a few yards of where he stood. He was not

slow to detect among them the forms of Mrs Wyllys
and Gertrude, attired in such a manner as to leave
no doubt that they were at length on the eve of
embarking.

A cloud, driving before the sun, does not produce
a greater change in the aspect of the earth, than
was wrought in the expression of Wilder's countenance,
by this unexpected sight. He was just implicitly
relying on the success of an artifice, which,
though sufficiently shallow, he flattered himself was
deep enough to act on the timidity and credulity of
woman; and, now, was he suddenly awoke from his
self-gratulation, to prove the utter disappointment of
his hopes. Muttering a suppressed but deep execration
against the perfidy of his confederate, he shrunk
as much as possible behind the fluke of the anchor,
and fastened his eyes sullenly on the ship.

The party which accompanied the travellers to
the water side was, like all other parties made to
take leave of valued friends, taciturn and restless.
Those who spoke, did so with a rapid and impatient
utterance, as though they wished to hurry the very
separation they regretted; and the features of those
who said nothing looked full of meaning. Wilder
heard several affectionate and warm-hearted wishes
given, and promises extorted, from youthful voices,
all of which were answered in the soft and mournful
tones of Gertrude, and yet he obstinately refused to
bend even a stolen look in the direction of the
speakers.

At length, a footstep, within a few feet of him, induced
a hasty glance aside. His eye met that of
Mrs Wyllys. The lady started, as well as our young
mariner, at the sudden recognition; but, recovering
her self-possession, she observed, with admirable
coolness,—

“You perceive, sir, that we are not to be deterred

from an enterprise once undertaken, by any
ordinary dangers.”

“I hope you may not have reason, Madam, to repent
your courage.”

A short, but painfully thoughtful pause succeeded,
on the part of Mrs Wyllys. Casting a look behind
her, in order to ascertain that she was not overheard,
she drew a step nigher to the youth, and said, in a
voice even lower than before,—

“It is not yet too late: Give me but the shadow
of a reason for what you have said, and I will wait
for another ship. My feelings are foolishly inclined
to believe you, young man, though my judgment
tells me there is but too much probability that you
trifle with our womanish fears.”

“Trifle! On such a matter I would trifle with
none of your sex; and least of all with you!”

“This is extraordinary! For a stranger it is inexplicable!
Have you a fact, or a reason, which I can
plead to the friends of my young charge?”

“You know them already.”

“Then, sir, am I compelled, against my will, to
believe your motive is one that you have some powerful
considerations for wishing to conceal,” coolly
returned the disappointed and even mortified governess.
“For your own sake, I hope it is not unworthy.
I thank you for all that is well intended; if you
have spoken aught which is otherwise, I forgive it.”

They parted, with the restraint of people who
feel that distrust exists between them. Wilder again
shrunk behind his cover, maintaining a proud position,
and a countenance that was grave to austerity.
His situation, however, compelled him to become
an auditor of most of what was now said.

The principal speaker, as was meet on such an occasion,
was Mrs de Lacey, whose voice was often
raised in sage admonitions and professional opinions,
blended in a manner that all would admire, though

none of her sex, but they who had enjoyed the singular
good fortune of sharing in the intimate confidence
of a flag-officer, might ever hope to imitate.

“And now, my dearest niece,” concluded the
relict of the Rear-Admiral, after exhausting her
breath, and her store of wisdom, in numberless exhortations
to be careful of her health, to write often,
to repeat the actual words of her private message
to her brother the General, to keep below in gales
of wind, to be particular in the account of any extraordinary
sight she might have the good fortune
to behold in the passage, and, in short, in all other
matters likely to grow out of such a leave-taking;
“and now, my dearest niece, I commit you to the
mighty deep, and One far mightier—to Him who
made it. Banish from your thoughts all recollections
of any thing you may have heard concerning the
imperfections of the `Royal Caroline;' for the opinion
of the aged seaman, who sailed with the lamented
Admiral, assures me they are all founded in mistake.”
[“The treacherous villain!” muttered Wilder.]
“Who spoke?” said Mrs de Lacey; but, receiving
no reply, she continued; “His opinion is
also exactly in accordance with my own, on more
mature reflection. To be sure, it is a culpable neglect
to depend on bobstays and gammonings for the
security of the bow-spirit, but still even this is an
oversight which, as my old friend has just told me,
may be remedied by `preventers and lashings.' I
have written a note to the Master,—Gertrude, my
dear, be careful ever to call the Master of the ship
Mister Nichols; for none, but such as bear his Majesty's
commission, are entitled to be termed Captains;
it is an honourable station, and should always
be treated with reverence, it being, in fact, next in
rank to a flag-officer,—I have written a note to the
Master on the subject, and he will see the neglect
repaired; and so, my love, God bless you; take the

best possible care of yourself; write me by every
opportunity; remember my kindest love to your father,
and be very minute in your description of the
whales.”

The eyes of the worthy and kind-hearted widow
were filled with tears as she ended; and there was a
touch of nature, in the tremour of her voice, that
produced a sympathetic feeling in all who heard her
words. The final parting took place under the impression
of these kind emotions; and, before another
minute, the oars of the boat, which bore the travellers
to the ship, were heard in the water.

Wilder listened to the well-known sounds with a
feverish interest, that he possibly might have found
it difficult to explain even to himself. A light touch
on the elbow first drew his attention from the disagreeable
subject. Surprised at the circumstance, he
faced the intruder, who appeared to be a lad of apparently
some fifteen years. A second look was necessary,
to tell the abstracted young mariner that he
again saw the attendant of the Rover; he who has
already been introduced in our pages under the name
of Roderick.

“Your pleasure?” he demanded, when his amazement,
at being thus interrupted in his meditations,
had a little subsided.

“I am directed to put these orders into your own
hands,” was the answer.

“Orders!” repeated the young man, with a curling
lip. “The authority should be respected which issues
its mandates through such a messenger.”

“The authority is one that it has ever proved
dangerous to disobey,” gravely returned the boy.

“Indeed! Then will I look into the contents without
delay, lest I fall into some fatal negligence. Are
you bid to wait an answer?”

On raising his eyes from the note the other had
given him, after breaking its seal, the young man

found that the messenger had already vanished. Perceiving
how useless it would be to pursue so light a
form, amid the mazes of lumber that loaded the
wharf, and most of the adjacent shore, he opened
the letter and read as follows:—

The signature, the matter, and the style of this
letter, left Wilder in no doubt as to its author. Casting
a glance around him, he sprang into a skiff; and,
before the boat of the travellers had reached the
ship, that of Wilder had skimmed the water over
half the distance between her and the land. As he
plied his skulls with vigorous and skilful arms, he
soon stood upon her decks. Forcing his way among
the crowd of attendants from the shore, that are apt
to cumber a departing ship, he reached the part of
the vessel where a circle of busy and anxious faces
told him he should find those most concerned in her
fate. Until now, he had hardly breathed clearly,
much less reflected on the character of his sudden
enterprise. It was too late, however, to retreat, had
he been so disposed, or to abandon his purpose, without

incurring the hazard of exciting dangerous suspicions.
A single instant served to recal his thoughts,
ere he demanded,—

“Do I see the owner of the `Caroline?' ”

“The ship is consigned to our house,” returned a
sedate, deliberate, and shrewd-looking individual, in
the attire of a wealthy, but also of a thrifty, trader.

“I have heard that you have need of an experienced
officer.”

“Experienced officers are comfortable things to
an owner in a vessel of value,” returned the merchant.
“I hope the `Caroline' is not without her
portion.”

“But I had heard, one to supply her Commander's
place, for a time, was greatly needed?”

“If her Commander were incapable of doing his
duty, such a thing might certainly come to pass. Are
you seeking a birth?”

“I have come to apply for the vacancy.”

“It would have been wiser, had you first ascertained
there existed a vacancy to fill. But you have
not come to ask authority, in such a ship as this,
without sufficient testimony of your ability and fitness?”

“I hope these documents may prove satisfactory,”
said Wilder, placing in his hands a couple of unsealed
letters.

During the time the other was reading the certificates,
for such they proved to be, his shrewd eye
was looking over his spectacles at the subject of their
contents, and returning to the paper, in alternate
glances, in such a way as to render it very evident
that he was endeavouring to assure himself of the
fidelity of the words he read, by actual observation.

“Hum! This is certainly very excellent testimony
in your favour, young gentleman; and—coming, as it
does, from two so respectable and affluent houses as
Spriggs, Boggs and Tweed, and Hammer and Hacket

—entitled to great credit. A richer and broader-bottomed
firm than the former, is not to be found in
all his Majesty's colonies; and I have great respect
for the latter, though envious people do say that they
over-trade a little.”

“Since, then, you esteem them so highly, I shall
not be considered hasty in presuming on their friendship.”

“Not at all, not at all, Mr—a—a”—glancing
his eye again into one of the letters; “ay—Mr Wilder;
there is never any presumption in a fair offer,
in a matter of business. Without offers to sell and
offers to buy, our property would never change
hands, sir, ha! ha! ha! never change to a profit, you
know, young gentleman.”

“I am aware of the truth of what you say, and
therefore I beg leave to repeat my offer.”

“All perfectly fair and perfectly reasonable. But
you cannot expect us, Mr Wilder, to make a vacancy
expressly for you to fill, though it must be admitted
that your papers are excellent—as good as the note
of Spriggs, Boggs and Tweed themselves—not to
make a vacancy expressly”—

“I had supposed the Master of the ship so seriously
injured”—

“Injured, but not seriously,” interrupted the wary
eonsignee, glancing his eye around at sundry shippers,
and one or two spectators, who were within
ear-shot; “injured certainly, but not so much as to
quit the vessel. No, no, gentlemen; the good ship
`Royal Caroline' proceeds on her voyage, as usual,
under the care of that old and well-tried mariner,
Nicholas Nichols.”

“Then, sir, am I sorry to have intruded on your
time at so busy a moment,” said Wilder, bowing
with a disappointed air, and falling back a step, as if
about to withdraw.

“Not so hasty—not so hasty; bargains are not to

be concluded, young man, as you let a sail fall from
the yard. It is possible that your services may be
of use, though not perhaps in the responsible situation
of Master. At what rate do you value the title
of `Captain?' ”

“I care little for the name, provided the trust and
the authority are mine.”

“A very sensible youth!” muttered the discreet
merchant; “and one who knows how to distinguish
between the shadow and the substance! A gentleman
of your good sense and character must know,
however, that the reward is always proportioned to
the nominal dignity. If I were acting for myself, in
this business, the case would be materially changed,
but, as an agent, it is a duty to consult the interest
of my principal.”

“The reward is of no account,” said Wilder, with
an eagerness that might have overreached itself, had
not the individual with whom he was bargaining
fastened his thoughts on the means of cheapening the
other's services, with a steadiness from which they
rarely swerved, when bent on so commendable an
object as saving: “I seek for service.”

“Then service you shall have; nor will you find
us niggardly in the operation. You cannot expect
an advance, for a run of no more than a month; nor
any perquisites in the way of stowage, since the ship
is now full to her hatches; nor, indeed, any great
price in the shape of wages, since we take you chiefly
to accommodate so worthy a youth, and to honour
the recommendations of so respectable a house
as Spriggs, Boggs and Tweed; but you will find us
liberal, excessive liberal. Stay—how know we that
you are the person named in the invoi—I should say,
recommendation?”

“Does not the fact of possessing the letters establish
my character?”

“It might in peaceable times; when the realm

was not scourged by war. A description of the person
should have accompanied the documents, like
a letter of advice with the bill. As we take you at
some risk in this matter, you are not to be surprised
that the price will be affected by the circumstance.
We are liberal; I believe no house in the colonies
pays more liberally; but then we have a character
for prudence to lose.”

“I have already said, sir, that the price shall not
interrupt our bargain.”

“Good: There is pleasure in transacting business
on such liberal and honourable views! And yet I
wish a notarial seal, or a description of the person,
had accompanied the letters. This is the signature
of Robert Tweed; I know it well, and would be
glad to see it at the bottom of a promissory note for
ten thousand pounds; that is, with a responsible endorser;
but the uncertainty is much against your
pecuniary interest, young man, since we become, as
it were, underwriters that you are the individual
named.”

“In order that your mind may be at case on this
subject, Mr Bale,” said a voice from among the little
circle that was listening, with characteristic interest,
to the progress of the bargain, “I can testify, or,
should it be necessary, qualify to the person of the
gentleman.”

Wilder turned in some haste, and in no little
astonishment, to discover the acquaintance whom
chance had thrown in so extraordinary, and possibly
in so disagreeable a manner, across his path; and
that, too, in a portion of the country where he wished
to believe himself an entire stranger. To his utter
amazement, he found that the new speaker was
no other than the landlord of the “Foul Anchor.”—
Honest Joe stood with a perfectly composed look,
and with a face that might readily have been trusted
to confront a far more imposing tribunal, awaiting

the result of his testimony on the seemingly wavering
mind of the consignee.

“Ah! you have lodged the gentleman for a time,
and you can testify that he is a punctual paymaster
and a civil inmate. But I want documents fit to
be filed with the correspondence of the owners at
home.”

“I know not what sort of testimony you think fit
for such good company,” returned the unmoved publican,
holding up his hand with an air of admirable
innocence; “but, if the sworn declaration of a
housekeeper is of the sort you need, you are a magistrate,
and may begin to say over the words at
once.”

“Not I, not I, man. Though a magistrate, the
oath is informal, and would not be binding in law.
But what do you know of the person in question?”

“That he is as good a seaman, for his years, as
any in the colonies. There may be some of more
practice and greater experience; I dare say such are
to be found; but as to activity, watchfulness, and
prudence, it would be hard to find his equal—especially
for prudence.”

“You then are quite certain that this person is
the individual named in these papers?”

Joram received the certificates with the same admirable
coolness he had maintained from the commencement,
and prepared to read them with the
most scrupulous care. In order to effect this necessary
operation, he had to put on his spectacles, (for
the landlord of the “Foul Anchor” was in the wane
of life), and Wilder fancied that he stood, during the
process, a notable example of how respectable depravity
may become, in appearance, when supported
by a reverend air.

“This is all very true, Mr Bale,” continued the
publican, removing his glasses, and returning the papers.
“They have forgotten to say any thing of the

manner in which he saved the `Lively Nancy,' off
Hatteras, and how he run the `Peggy and Dolly'
over the Savannah bar, without a pilot, blowing
great guns from the northward and eastward at the
time; but I, who followed the water, as you know,
in my younger days, have often heard both circumstances
mentioned among sea-faring men, and I am a
judge of the difficulty. I have an interest in this
ship, neighbour Bale, (for though a rich man, and I
a poor one, we are nevertheless neighbours)—I say
I have an interest in this ship; since she is a vessel
that seldom quits Newport without leaving something
to jingle in my pocket, or I should not be
here to-day, to see her lift her anchor.”

As the publican concluded, he gave audible evidence
that his visit had not gone unrewarded, by
raising a music that was no less agreeable to the ears
of the thrifty merchant than to his own. The two
worthies laughed in an understanding way, and like
two men who had found a particular profit in their
intercourse with the “Royal Caroline.” The latter
then beckoned Wilder apart, and, after a little further
preliminary discourse, the terms of the young
mariner's engagement were finally settled. The
true Master of the ship was to remain on board,
both as a security for the insurance, and in order to
preserve her reputation; but it was frankly admitted
that his hurt, which was no less than a broken leg,
and which the surgeons were then setting, would
probably keep him below for a month to come.
During the time he was kept from his duty, his functions
were to be filled, in effect, by our adventurer.
These arrangements occupied another hour of time,
and then the consignee left the vessel, perfectly satisfied
with the prudent and frugal manner in which
he had discharged his duty towards his principal.
Before stepping into the boat, however, with a view
to be equally careful of his own interests, he took

an opportunity to request the publican to make a
proper and legal affidavit of all that he knew, “of
his own knowledge,” concerning the officer just engaged.
Honest Joram was liberal of his promises;
but, as he saw no motive, now that all was so happily
effected, for incurring useless risks, he contrived
to evade their fulfilment, finding, no doubt, his apology
for this breach of faith in the absolute poverty
of his information, when the subject came to be duly
considered, and construed literally by the terms required.

It is unnecessary to relate the bustle, the reparation
of half-forgotten, and consequently neglected
business, the duns, good wishes, injunctions to execute
commissions in some distant port, and all the
confused, and seemingly interminable, duties that
crowd themselves into the last ten minutes that precede
the sailing of a merchant vessel, more especially
if she is fortunate, or rather unfortunate
enough to have passengers. A certain class of men
quit a vessel, in such a situation, with the reluctance
that they would part with any other well established
means of profit, creeping down her sides as lazily
as the leech, filled to repletion, rolls from his bloody
repast. The common seaman, with an attention divided
by the orders of the pilot and the adieus of
acquaintances, runs in every direction but the right
one, and, perhaps at the only time in his life, seems
ignorant of the uses of the ropes he has so long been
accustomed to handle. Notwithstanding all these
vexatious delays, and customary incumbrances, the
“Royal Caroline” finally got rid of all her visiters
but one, and Wilder was enabled to indulge in a
pleasure that a seaman alone can appreciato—that
of clear decks and an orderly ship's company.