 | CHAPTER XIII. The Red Rover |  |
13. CHAPTER XIII.
“What have here? A man, or a fish?”
The Tempest.
The “Caroline” now lay within a cable's length
of the supposed slaver. In dismissing the pilot,
Wilder had assumed a responsibility from which a
seaman usually shrinks; since, in the case of any untoward
accident in leaving the port, it would involve
a loss of insurance, and his own probable punishment.
How far he had been influenced, in taking
so decided a step, by a knowledge of his being beyond,
or above, the reach of the law, will probably
be made manifest in the course of the narrative; the
only immediate effect of the measure, was, to draw
the whole of his attention, which had before been
so much divided between his passengers and the
ship, to the care of the latter. But, so soon as his
vessel was secured, for a time at least, and his mind
was no longer excited by the expectation of a scene
of immediate violence, our adventurer found leisure
to return to his former, though (to so thorough a seaman)
scarcely more agreeable occupation. The
success of his delicate manœuvre had imparted to
his countenance a glow of something very like triumph;
and his step, as he advanced towards Mrs
Wyllys and Gertrude, was that of a man who enjoyed
the consciousness of having acquitted himself
dexterously, in circumstances that required no small
exhibition of professional skill. At least, such was
the construction the former lady put upon his kindling
eye and exulting air; though the latter might, possibly,
be disposed to judge of his motives with greater
indulgence. Perhaps both were ignorant of the secret
reasons of his self-felicitation; and it is possible
that a sentiment, of a far more generous nature than
influence in his present feelings.
Be this as it might, Wilder no sooner saw that the
“Caroline” was swinging to her anchor, and that his
services were of no further immediate use, than he
sought an opportunity to renew a conversation which
had hitherto been so vague, and so often interrupted.
Mrs Wyllys had long been viewing the neighbouring
vessel with a steady look; nor did she now turn her
gaze from the motionless and silent object, until the
young mariner was near her person. She was then
the first to speak.
“Yonder vessel must possess an extraordinary,
not to say an insensible, crew!” exclaimed the governess,
in a tone bordering on astonishment. “If
such things were, it would not be difficult to fancy
her a spectre-ship.”
“She is truly an admirably proportioned and a
beautiful equipped trader!”
“Did my apprehensions deceive me? or were
we in actual danger of getting the two vessels entangled?”
“There was certainly some reason for apprehension;
but you see we are safe.”
“For which we have to thank your skill. The
manner in which you have just extricated us from
the late danger, has a direct tendency to contradict
all that you were pleased to foretel of that which is
to come.”
“I well know, Madam, that my conduct may bear
an unfavourable construction, but”—
“You thought it no harm to laugh at the weakness
of three credulous females,” continued Mrs
Wyllys, smiling. “Well, you have had your amusement;
and now, I hope, you will be more disposed
to pity what is said to be a natural infirmity of woman's
mind.”
As the governess concluded, she glanced her eye
it would be cruel, now, to trifle further with the apprehensions
of one so innocent and so young. The
look of Wilder followed her own; and when he answered,
it was with a sincerity that was well calculated
to carry conviction in its tones.
“On the faith which a gentleman owes to all your
sex, Madam, what I have already told you I still
continue to believe.”
“The gammonings and the top-gallant-masts!”
“No, no,” interrupted the young mariner, slightly
laughing, and at the same time colouring a good
deal; “perhaps not all of that. But neither mother,
wife, nor sister of mine, should make this passage
in the `Royal Caroline.' ”
“Your look, your voice, and your air of good
faith, make a strange contradiction to your words,
young man; for, while the former almost tempt me
to believe you honest, the latter have not a shade of
reason to support them. Perhaps I ought to be
ashamed of such a weakness, and yet I will acknowledge,
that the mysterious quiet, which seems to
have settled for ever on yonder ship, has excited an
inexplicable uneasiness, that may in some way be
connected with her character.—She is certainly a
slaver?”
“She is certainly beautiful!” exclaimed Gertrude.
“Very beautiful!” Wilder gravely rejoined.
“There is a man still seated on one of her yards,
who appears to be entranced in his occupation,”
continued Mrs Wyllys, leaning her chin thoughtfully
on her hand, as she gazed at the object of which she
was speaking. “Not once, during the time we were
in so much danger of getting the ships entangled,
did that seaman bestow so much as a stolen glance
towards us. He resembles the solitary individual in
the city of the transformed; for not another mortal
discover.”
“Perhaps his comrades sleep,” said Gertrude.
“Sleep! Mariners do not sleep in an hour and a
day like this! Tell me, Mr Wilder, (you that are a
seaman should know), is it usual for the crew to
sleep when a strange vessel is so nigh—near even to
touching, I might almost say?”
“It is not.”
“I thought as much; for I am not an entire novice
in matters of your daring, your hardy, your noble
profession!” returned the governess, with deep emphasis.
“And, had we gone foul of the slaver, do
you think her crew would have maintained their
apathy?”
“I think not, Madam.”
“There is something, in all this assumed tranquillity,
which might induce one to suspect the worst of
her character. Is it known that any of her crew
have had communication with the town, since her
arrival?”
“It is.”
“I have heard that false colours have been seen
on the coast, and that ships have been plundered,
and their people and passengers maltreated, during
the past summer. It is even thought that the famous
Rover has tired of his excesses on the Spanish Main,
and that a vessel was not long since seen in the
Caribbean sea, which was thought to be the cruiser
of that desperate pirate!”
Wilder made no reply. His eyes, which had been
fastened steadily, though respectfully, on those of
the speaker, fell to the deck, and he appeared to
await whatever her further pleasure might choose to
utter. The governess mused a moment; and then,
with a change in the expression of her countenance
which proved that her suspicion of the truth was too
she added,—
“After all, the occupation of a slaver is bad
enough, and unhappily by far too probable, to render
it necessary to attribute any worse character to the
stranger. I would I knew the motive of your singular
assertions, Mr Wilder?”
“I cannot better explain them, Madam: unless
my manner produces its effect, I fail altogether in
my intentions, which at least are sincere.”
“Is not the risk lessened by your presence?”
“Lessened, but not removed.”
Until now, Gertrude had rather listened, as if unavoidably,
than seemed to make one of the party.
But here she turned quickly, and perhaps a little
impatiently, to Wilder, and, while her cheeks glowed,
she demanded, with a smile that might have
brought even a more obdurate man to his confession,—
“Is it forbidden to be more explicit?”
The young Commander hesitated, perhaps as
much to dwell upon the ingenuous features of the
speaker, as to decide upon his answer. The colour
mounted into his own embrowned cheek, and his
eye lighted with a gleam of open pleasure; then, as
though suddenly reminded that he was delaying to
reply, he said,—
“I am certain, that, in relying on your discretion,
I shall be safe.”
“Doubt it not,” returned Mrs Wyllys. “In no
event shall you ever be betrayed.”
“Betrayed! For myself, Madam, I have little
fear. If you suspect me of personal apprehension,
you do me great injustice.”
“We suspect you of nothing unworthy,” said Gertrude
hastily, “but—we are very anxious for ourselves.”
“Then will I relieve your uneasiness, though at
the expense of”—
A call, from one of the mates to the other, arrested
his words for the moment, and drew his attention
to the neighbouring ship.
“The slaver's people have just found out that
their ship is not made to put in a glass case, to be
looked at by women and children,” cried the speaker,
in tones loud enough to send his words into the
fore-top, where the messmate he addressed was attending
to some especial duty.
“Ay, ay,” was the answer; “seeing us in motion,
has put him in mind of his next voyage. They keep
watch aboard the fellow, like the sun in Greenland:
six months on deck, and six months below!”
The witticism produced, as usual, a laugh among
the seamen, who continued their remarks in a similar
vein, but in tones more suited to the deference
due to their superiors.
The eyes, however, of Wilder had fastened themselves
on the other ship. The man so long seated
on the end of the main-yard had disappeared, and
another sailor was deliberately walking along the
opposite quarter of the same spar, steadying himself
by the boom, and holding in one hand the end of a
rope, which he was apparently about to reeve in
the place where it properly belonged. The first
glance told Wilder that the latter was Fid, who was
so far recovered from his debauch as to tread the
giddy height with as much, if not greater, steadiness
than he would have rolled along the ground, had his
duty called him to terra firma. The countenance of
the young man, which, an instant before, had been
flushed with excitement, and which was beaming
with the pleasure of an opening confidence, changed
directly to a look of gloom and reserve. Mrs Wyllys,
who had lost no shade of the varying expression
where he had seen fit so abruptly to break
it off.
“You would relieve us,” she said, “at the expense
of”—
“Life, Madam; but not of honour.”
“Gertrude, we can now retire to our cabin,” observed
Mrs Wyllys, with an air of cold displeasure,
in which disappointment was a good deal mingled
with resentment at the trifling of which she believed
herself the subject. The eye of Gertrude was
no less averted and distant than that of her governess,
while the tint that gave lustre to its beam was
brighter, if not quite so resentful. As the two moved
past the silent Wilder, each dropped a distant salute,
and then our adventurer found himself the sole occupant
of the quarter-deck. While his crew were
busied in coiling ropes, and clearing the decks, their
young Commander leaned his head on the taffrail,
(that part of the vessel which the good relict of the
Rear-Admiral had so strangely confounded with a
very different object in the other end of the ship),
remaining for many minutes in an attitude of deep
abstraction. From this reverie he was at length
aroused, by a sound like that produced by the lifting
and falling of a light oar into the water. Believing
himself about to be annoyed by visiters from the
land, he raised his head, and cast a dissatisfied glance
over the vessel's side, to see who was approaching.
A light skiff, such as is commonly used by fishermen
in the bays and shallow waters of America,
was lying within ten feet of the ship, and in a position
where it was necessary to take some little pains
in order to observe it. It was occupied by a single
man, whose back was towards the vessel, and who
was apparently abroad on the ordinary business of
the owner of such a boat.
“Are you in search of rudder-fish, my friend, that
Wilder. “The bay is said to be full of delicious
bass, and other scaly gentlemen, that would far better
repay your trouble.”
“He is well paid who gets the bite he baits for,”
returned the other, turning his head, and exhibiting
the cunning eye and chuckling countenance of old
Bob Bunt, as Wilder's recent and treacherous confederate
had announced his name to be.
“How now! Dare you trust yourself with me, in
five-fathom water, after the villanous trick you have
seen fit”—
“Hist! noble Captain, hist!” interrupted Bob,
holding up a finger, to repress the other's animation,
and intimating, by a sign, that their conference must
be held in lower tones; “there is no need to call all
hands to help us through a little chat. In what way
have I fallen to leeward of your favour, Captain?”
“In what way, sirrah! Did you not receive money,
to give such a character of this ship to the ladies as
(you said yourself) would make them sooner pass
the night in a churchyard, than trust foot on board
her?”
“Something of the sort passed between us, Captain;
but you forgot one half of the conditions, and
I overlooked the other; and I need not tell so expert
a navigator, that two halves make a whole. No
wonder, therefore, that the affair dropt through between
us.”
“How! Do you add falsehood to perfidy? What
part of my engagement did I neglect?”
“What part!” returned the pretended fisherman,
leisurely drawing in a line, which the quick eye of
Wilder saw, though abundantly provided with lead
at the end, was destitute of the equally material implement—the
hook; “What part, Captain! No less
a particular than the second guinea.”
“It was to have been the reward of a service
you to undertake the duty.”
“Ah! you have helped me to the very word I
wanted. I fancied it was not in earnest, like the one
I got, and so I left the job half finished.”
“Half finished, scoundrel! you never commenced
what you swore so stoutly to perform.”
“Now are you on as wrong a course, my Master,
as if you steered due east to get to the Pole. I religiously
performed one half my undertaking; and,
you will acknowledge, I was only half paid.”
“You would find it difficult to prove that you
even did that little.”
“Let us look into the log. I enlisted to walk up
the hill as far as the dwelling of the good Admiral's
widow, and there to make certain alterations in my
sentiments, which it is not necessary to speak of
between us.”
“Which you did not make; but, on the contrary,
which you thwarted, by telling an exactly contradictory
tale.”
“True.”
“True! knave?—Were justice done you, an acquaintance
with a rope's end would be a merited
reward.”
“A squall of words!—If your ship steer as wild
as your ideas, Captain, you will make a crooked
passage to the south. Do you not think it an easier
matter, for an old man like me, to tell a few lies,
than to climb yonder long and heavy hill? In strict
justice, more than half my duty was done when I
got into the presence of the believing widow; and
then I concluded to refuse the half of the reward
that was unpaid, and to take bounty from t'other
side.”
“Villain!” exclaimed Wilder, a little blinded by
resentment, “even your years shall no longer protect
you from punishment. Forward, there! send
fellow in the skiff on board the ship. Pay no attention
to his outcries; I have an account to settle with
him, that cannot be balanced without a little noise.”
The mate, to whom this order was addressed, and
who had answered the hail, jumped on the rail, where
he got sight of the craft he was commanded to chase.
In less than a minute he was in the boat, with four
men, and pulling round the bows of the ship, in order
to get on the side necessary to effect his object.
The self-styled Bob Bunt gave one or two strokes
with his skulls, and sent the skiff some twenty or
thirty fathoms off, where he lay, chuckling like a
man who saw only the success of his cunning, without
any apparent apprehensions of the consequences.
But, the moment the boat appeared in view, he laid
himself to the work with vigorous arms, and soon
convinced the spectators that his capture was not to
be achieved without abundant difficulty.
For some little time, it was doubtful what course
the fugitive meant to take; for he kept whirling and
turning in swift and sudden circles, completely confusing
and baffling his pursuers, by his skilful and
light evolutions. But, soon tiring of this taunting
amusement, or perhaps apprehensive of exhausting
his own strength, which was powerfully and most
dexterously exerted, it was not long before he darted
off in a perfectly straight line, taking the direction
of the “Rover.”
The chase now grew hot and earnest, exciting the
clamour and applause of most of the nautical spectators.
The result, for a time, seemed doubtful; but,
if any thing, the jolly boat, though some distance
astern, began to gain, as it gradually overcame the
resistance of the water. In a very few minutes,
however, the skiff shot under the stern of the other
ship, and disappeared, bringing the hull of the vessel
in a line with the “Caroline” and its course. The
and then the seamen of the latter ship began, laughingly,
to climb the rigging, in order to command a
further view, over the intervening object.
Nothing, however, was to be seen beyond but
water, and the still more distant island, with its little
fort. In a few minutes, the crew of the jolly boat
were observed pulling back in their path, returning
slowly, like men who were disappointed. All crowded
to the side of the ship, in order to hear the termination
of the adventure; the noisy assemblage
even drawing the two passengers from the cabin to
the deck. Instead, however, of meeting the questions
of their shipmates with the usual wordy narrative of
men of their condition, the crew of the boat wore
startled and bewildered looks. Their officer sprang
to the deck without speaking, and immediately sought
his Commander.
“The skiff was too light for you, Mr Nighthead,”
Wilder calmly observed, as the other approached,
having never moved, himself, from the place where
he had been standing during the whole proceeding.
“Too light, sir! Are you acquainted with the man
who pulled it?”
“Not particularly well: I only know him for a
knave.”
“He should be one, since he is of the family of
the devil!”
“I will not take on myself to say he is as bad as
you appear to think, though I have little reason to
believe he has any honesty to cast into the sea.
What has become of him?”
“A question easily asked, but hard to answer.
In the first place, though an old and a gray-headed
fellow, he twitched his skiff along as if it floated in
air. We were not a minute, or two at the most, behind
him; but, when we got on the other side of the
slaver, boat and man had vanished!”
“He doubled her bows while you were crossing
the stern.”
“Did you see him, then?”
“I confess we did not.”
“It could not be, sir; since we pulled far enough
ahead to examine on both sides at once; besides, the
people of the slaver knew nothing of him.”
“You saw the slaver's people?”
“I should have said her man; for there is seemingly
but one hand on board her.”
“And how was he employed?”
“He was seated in the chains, and seem'd to have
been asleep. It is a lazy ship, sir; and one that
takes more money from her owners, I fancy, than it
ever returns!”
“It may be so. Well, let the rogue escape. There
is the prospect of a breeze coming in from the sea,
Mr Earing; we will get our top-sails to the mast-heads
again, and be in readiness for it. I could like yet to
see the sun set in the water.”
The mates and the crew went cheerfully to their
task, though many a curious question was asked, by
the wondering seamen, of their shipmates who had
been in the boat, and many a solemn answer was
given, while they were again spreading the canvas,
to invite the breeze. Wilder turned, in the mean
time, to Mrs Wyllys, who had been an auditor of
his short conversation with the mate.
“You perceive, Madam,” he said, “that our voyage
does not commence without its omens.”
“When you tell me, inexplicable young man, with
the air of singular sincerity you sometimes possess,
that we are unwise in trusting to the ocean, I am
half inclined to put faith in what you say; but when
you attempt to enforce your advice with the machinery
of witchcraft, you only induce me to proceed.”
“Man the windlass!” cried Wilder, with a look
stout of heart, the opportunity to show your resolution
shall not be wanting. “Man the windlass there!
We will try the breeze again, and work the ship into
the offing while there is light.”
The clattering of handspikes preceded the mariners'
song. Then the heavy labour, by which the
ponderous iron was lifted from the bottom, was
again resumed, and, in a few more minutes, the ship
was once more released from her hold upon the land.
The wind soon came fresh off the ocean, charged
with the saline dampness of the element. As the
air fell upon the distended and balanced sails, the
ship bowed to the welcome guest; and then, rising
gracefully from its low inclination, the breeze was
heard singing, through the maze of rigging, the music
that is ever grateful to a seaman's ear. The welcome
sounds, and the freshness of the peculiar air,
gave additional energy to the movements of the
men. The anchor was stowed, the ship cast, the
lighter sails set, the courses had fallen, and the bows
of the “Caroline” were throwing the spray before
her, ere another ten minutes had gone by.
Wilder had now undertaken himself the task of
running his vessel between the islands of Connannicut
and Rhode. Fortunately for the heavy responsibility
he had assumed, the channel was not difficult,
and the wind had veered so far to the east as
to give him a favourable opportunity, after making
a short stretch to windward, of laying through in a
single reach. But this stretch would bring him under
the necessity of passing very near the “Rover,”
or of losing no small portion of his 'vantage ground.
He did not hesitate. When the vessel was as nigh
the weather shore as his busy lead told him was prudent,
the ship was tacked, and her head laid directly
towards the still motionless and seemingly unobservant
slaver.
The approach of the “Caroline” was far more
propitious than before. The wind was steady, and
her crew held her in hand, as a skilful rider governs
the action of a fiery and mettled steed. Still the
passage was not made without exciting a breathless
interest in every soul in the Bristol trader. Each
individual had his own secret cause of curiosity.
To the seamen, the strange ship began to be the subject
of wonder; the governess, and her ward, scarce
knew the reasons of their emotions; while Wilder
was but too well instructed in the nature of the
hazard that all but himself were running. As before,
the man at the wheel was about to indulge his
nautical pride, by going to windward; but, although
the experiment would now have been attended with
but little hazard, he was commanded to proceed differently.
“Pass the slaver's lee-beam, sir,” said Wilder to
him, with a gesture of authority; and then the young
Captain went himself to lean on the weather-rail,
like every other idler on board, to examine the object
they were so fast approaching. As the “Caroline”
came boldly up, seeming to bear the breeze before
her, the sighing of the wind, as it murmured
through the rigging of the stranger, was the only
sound that issued from her. Not a single human
face, not even a secret and curious eye, was any
where to be seen. The passage was of course rapid;
and, as the two vessels, for an instant, lay with heads
and sterns nearly equal, Wilder thought it was to be
made without the slightest notice from the imaginary
slaver. But he was mistaken. A light, active form,
in the undress attire of a naval officer, sprang upon
the taffrail, and waved a sea-cap in salute. The instant
the fair hair was blowing about the countenance
of this individual, Wilder recognized the
quick, keen eye and features of the Rover.
“Think you the wind will hold here, sir?” shouted
the latter, at the top of his voice.
“It has come in fresh enough to be steady,” was
the answer.
“A wise mariner would get all his easting in time;
to me, there is a smack of West-Indies about it.”
“You believe we shall have it more at south?”
“I do: But a taught bow-line, for the night, will
carry you clear.”
By this time the “Caroline” had swept by, and
she was now luffing, across the slaver's bows, into
her course again. The figure on the taffrail waved
high the sea-cap in adieu, and disappeared.
“Is it possible that such a man can traffic in human
beings!” exclaimed Gertrude, when the sounds
of both voices had ceased.
Receiving no reply, she turned quickly, to regard
her companion. The governess was standing like a
being entranced, with her eyes looking on vacancy;
for they had not changed their direction since the
motion of the vessel had carried her beyond the
countenance of the stranger. As Gertrude took her
hand, and repeated the question, the recollection of
Mrs Wyllys returned. Passing her own hand over
her brow, with a bewildered air, she forced a smile,
as she said,—
“The meeting of vessels, or the renewal of any
maritime experience, never fails to revive my earliest
recollections, love. But surely that was an extraordinary
being, who has at length shown himself
in the slaver!”
“For a slaver, most extraordinary!”
Wyllys leaned her head on her hand for an instant,
and then turned to seek the person of Wilder. The
young mariner was standing near, studying the expression
of her countenance, with an interest scarcely
less remarkable than her own air of thought.
“Tell me, young man, is yonder individual the
Commander of the slaver?”
“He is.”
“You know him?”
“We have met.”
“And he is called”—
“The Master of yon ship. I know no other name.”
“Gertrude, we will seek our cabin. When the
land is leaving us, Mr Wilder will have the goodness
to let us know.”
The latter bowed his assent, and the ladies then
left the deck. The “Caroline” had now the prospect
of getting speedily to sea. In order to effect
this object, Wilder had every thing, that would
draw, set to the utmost advantage. One hundred
times, at least, however, did he turn his head, to
steal a look at the vessel he had left behind. She
ever lay as when they passed—a regular, beautiful,
but motionless object, in the bay. From each of
these furtive examinations, our adventurer invariably
cast an excited and impatient glance at the sails of
his own ship; ordering this to be drawn tighter to
the spar beneath, or that to be more distended along
its mast.
The effect of so much solicitude, united with so
much skill, was to urge the Bristol trader through
her element at a rate she had rarely, if ever, surpassed.
It was not long before the land ceased to be
seen on her two beams, and then it was only to be
traced in the blue islands in their rear, or in a long,
dim horizon, to the north and west, where the limits
of the vast Continent stretches for countless
leagues. The passengers were now summoned to
take their parting look at the land, and the officers
were seen noting their departures. Just before the
day shut in, and ere the islands were entirely sunk
into the waves, Wilder ascended to an upper yard,
haven he had left, was long, anxious, and abstracted.
But his descent was distinguished by a more quiet
eye, and a calmer mien. A smile, like that of success,
played about his lips; and he gave his orders
clearly, in a cheerful, encouraging voice. They
were obeyed as briskly. The elder mariners pointed
to the seas, as they cut through them, and affirmed
that never had the “Caroline” made such progress.
The mates cast the log, and nodded their approbation,
as one announced to the other the unwonted
speed of the ship. In short, content and hilarity
reigned on board; for it was deemed that their passage
was commenced under such auspices as would
lead it to a speedy and a prosperous termination. In
the midst of these encouraging omens, the sun dipped
into the sea, illuming, as it fell, a wide reach of the
chill and gloomy element. Then the shades of the
hour began to gather over the vast surface of the
illimitable waste.
| CHAPTER XIII. The Red Rover | |