 | CHAPTER XIII. The Red Rover |  |
13. CHAPTER XIII.
“Let them achieve me, and then sell my bones.”
—Henry V.
The Commander of the “Dart,” and his bewildered
lieutenant, had gained the quarter-deck before
either spoke again. The direction first taken by the
eyes of the latter was in quest of the neighbouring
ship; nor was the look entirely without that unsettled
and vague expression which seems to announce
a momentary aberration of the faculties. But the
vessel of the Rover was in view, in all the palpable
and beautiful proportions of her admirable construction.
Instead of lying in a state of rest, as when he
left her, her head-yards had been swung, and, as the
sails filled with the breeze, the stately fabric had begun
along the water. There was not the slightest appearance,
however, of any attempt at escape in the
evolution. On the contrary, the loftier and lighter sails
had all been furled, and men were at the moment
actively employed in sending to the deck those smaller
spars which were absolutely requisite in spreading
the canvas that would be needed in facilitating her
flight. Wilder turned from the sight with a sickening
apprehension; for he well knew that these were the
preparations that skilful mariners are wont to make,
when bent on desperate combat.
“Ay, yonder goes your St. James's seaman, with
his three topsails full, and his mizzen out, as if he
had already forgotten he is to dine with me, and that
his name is to be found at one end of the list of Commanders,
and mine at the other,” grumbled the displeased
Bignall. “But we shall have him coming
round all in good time, I suppose, when his appetite
tells him the dinner hour. He might wear his colours
in presence of a senior, too, and no disgrace to his
nobility. By the Lord, Harry Ark, he handles those
yards beautifully! I warrant you, now, some honest
man's son is sent aboard his ship for a dry nurse, in
the shape of a first lieutenant, and we shall have him
vapouring, all dinner time, about `how my ship does
this,' and `I never suffer that.' Ha! is it not so, sir?
He has a thorough seaman for his First?”
“Few men understand the profession better than
does the Captain of yonder vessel himself,” returned
Wilder.
“The devil he does! You have been talking with
him, Mr Ark, about these matters, and he has got
some of the fashions of the `Dart.' I see into a mystery
as quick as another!”
“I do assure you, Captain Bignall, there is no
safety in confiding in the ignorance of yonder extraordinary
man.”
“Ay, ay, I begin to overhaul his character. The
young dog is a quiz, and has been amusing himself
with a sailor of what he calls the old school. Am I
right, sir? He has seen salt water before this cruise?”
“He is almost a native of the seas; for more than
thirty years has he passed his time on them.”
“There, Harry Ark, he has done you handsomely.
Now, I have his own assertion for it, that he will not
be three-and-twenty until to-morrow.”
“On my word, he has deceived you, sir.”
“I don't know, Mr Ark; that is a task much easier
attempted than performed. Threescore and four
years add as much weight to a man's head as to his
heels! I may have undervalued the skill of the younker,
but, as to his years, there can be no great mistake.
But where the devil is the fellow steering to?
Has he need of a pinafore from his lady mother to
come on board of a man-of-war for his dinner?”
“See! he is indeed standing from us!” exclaimed
Wilder, with a rapidity and delight that would have
excited the suspicions of one more observant than his
Commander.
“If I know the stern from the bows of a ship,
what you say is truth,” returned the other, with some
austerity. “Hark ye, Mr Ark, I've a mind to furnish
the coxcomb a lesson in respect for his superiors,
and give him a row to whet his appetite. By
the Lord, I will; and he may write home an account
of this manœuvre, too, in his next despatches. Fill
away the after-yards, sir; fill away. Since this honourable
youth is disposed to amuse himself with a
sailing-match, he can take no offence that others are
in the same humour.”
The lieutenant of the watch, to whom the order
was addressed, complied; and, in another minute,
the “Dart” was also beginning to move a-head, though
in a direction directly opposite to that taken by the
“Dolphin.” The old man highly enjoyed his own
glee and deep chuckling of his manner. He
was too much occupied with the step he had just taken,
to revert immediately to the subject that had so
recently been uppermost in his mind; nor did the
thought of pursuing the discourse occur to him, until
the two ships had left a broad field of water between
them, as each moved, with ease and steadiness, on its
proper course.
“Let him note that in his log-book, Mr Ark,” the
irritable old seaman then resumed, returning to the
spot which Wilder had not left during the intervening
time. “Though my cook has no great relish for
a frog, they who would taste of his skill must seek
him. By the Lord, boy, he will have a pull of it, if
he undertake to come-to on that tack.—But how
happens it that you got into his ship? All that part
of the cruise remains untold.”
“I have been wrecked, sir, since you received my
last letter.”
“What! has Davy Jones got possession of the red
gentleman at last?”
“The misfortune occurred in a ship from Bristol,
aboard which I was placed as a sort of prize-master.
—He certainly continues to stand slowly to the northward!”
“Let the young coxcomb go! he will have all the
better appetite for his supper. And so you were
picked up by his Majesty's ship the `Antelope.'
Ay, I see into the whole affair. You have only to
give an old sea-dog his course and compass, and he
will find his way to port in the darkest night. But
how happened it that this Mr Howard affected to be
ignorant of your name, sir, when he saw it on the
list of my officers?”
“Ignorant! Did he seem ignorant? perhaps”—
“Say no more, my brave fellow, say no more,” interrupted
Wilder's considerate but choleric Commander.
we are above them, sir, far above them and their impertinences
together. No man need be ashamed of
having earned his commission, as you and I have
done, in fair weather and in foul. Zounds, boy, I
have fed one of the upstarts for a week, and then had
him stare at a church across the way, when I have
fallen in with him in the streets of London, in a fashion
that might make a simple man believe the puppy
knew for what it had been built. Think no more
of it, Harry; worse things have happened to myself,
I do assure you.”
“I went by my assumed name while in yonder
ship,” Wilder forced himself to add. “Even the ladies,
who were the companions of my wreck, know
me by no other.”
“Ah! that was prudent; and, after all, the young
sprig was not pretending genteel ignorance. How
now, master Fid; you are welcome back to the
`Dart.' ”
“I've taken the liberty to say as much already to
myself, your Honour,” resumed the topman, who
was busying himself, near his two officers, in a manner
that seemed to invite their attention. “A wholesome
craft is yonder, and boldly is she commanded,
and stoutly is she manned; but, for my part, having
a character to lose, it is more to my taste to sail in a
ship that can shew her commission, when properly
called on for the same.”
The colour on Wilder's cheeks went and came,
like the flushings of the evening sky, and his
eyes were turned in every direction but that which
would have encountered the astonished gaze of his
veteran friend.
“I am not quite sure that I understand the meaning
of the lad, Mr Ark. Every officer, from the Captain
to the boatswain, in the King's fleet, that is, every
man of common discretion, carries his authority
in a situation as awkward as that of a pirate.”
“That is just what I said, sir; but schooling and
long use have given your Honour a better outfit in
words. Guinea and I have often talked the matter
over together, and serious thoughts has it given to us
both, more than once, Captain Bignall. `Suppose,'
says I to the black, `suppose one of his Majesty's
boats should happen to fall in with this here craft,
and we should come to loggerheads and matches,'
says I, `what would the like of us two do in such a
god-send?'—`Why,' says the black, `we would stand
to our guns on the side of master Harry,' says he;
nor did I gainsay the same; but, saving his presence
and your Honour's, I just took the liberty to add,
that, in my poor opinion, it would be much more
comfortable to be killed in an honest ship than on the
deck of a buccaneer.”
“A buccaneer!” exclaimed his Commander, with
eyes distended, and an open mouth.
“Captain Bignall,” said Wilder, “I may have
offended past forgiveness, in remaining so long silent;
but, when you hear my tale, there may be found some
passages that shall plead my apology. The vessel
in sight is the ship of the renowned Red Rover—nay
listen, I conjure you by all that kindness you have so
long shewn me, and then censure as you will.”
The words of Wilder, aided as they were by an
earnest and manly manner, laid a restraint on the
mounting indignation of the choleric old seaman. He
listened gravely and intently to the rapid but clear
tale which his lieutenant hastened to recount; and,
ere the latter had done, he had more than half entered
into those grateful, and certainly generous, feelings
which had made the youth so reluctant to betray
the obnoxious character of a man who had dealt
so liberally by himself. A few strong, and what
might be termed professional, exclamations of surprise
narrative; but, on the whole, he curbed his impatience
and his feelings, in a manner that was sufficiently
remarkable, when the temperament of the individual
is duly considered.
“This is wonderful indeed!” he exclaimed, as the
other ended; “and a thousand pities is it that so
honest a fellow should be so arrant a knave. But,
Harry, we can never let him go at large after all;
our loyalty and our religion forbid it. We must tack
ship, and stand after him; if fair words won't bring
him to reason, I see no other remedy than blows.”
“I fear it is no more than our duty, sir,” returned
the young man, with a deep sigh.
“It is a matter of religion.—And then the prating
puppy, that he sent on board me, is no Captain, after
all! Still it was impossible to deceive me as to the
air and manner of a gentleman. I warrant me, some
young reprobate of a good family, or he would never
have acted the sprig so well. We must try to keep
his name a secret, Mr Ark, in order that no discredit
should fall upon his friends. Our aristocratic columns,
though they get a little cracked and defaced, are, after
all, the pillars of the throne, and it does not become
us to let vulgar eyes look too closely into their
unsoundness.”
“The individual who visited the `Dart' was the
Rover himself.”
“Ha! the Red Rover in my ship, nay, in my very
presence!” exclaimed the old tar, in a species of
honest horror. “You are now pleased, sir, to trifle
with my good nature.”
“I should forget a thousand obligations, ere I could
be so bold. On my solemn asseveration, sir, it was
no other.”
“This is unaccountable! extraordinary to a miracle!
His disguise was very complete, I will confess,
I saw nothing, sir, of his shaggy whiskers,
heard nothing of his brutal voice, nor perceived any
of those monstrous deformities which are universally
acknowledged to distinguish the man.”
“All of which are no more than the embellishments
of vulgar rumour. I fear me, sir, that the
boldest and most dangerous of all our vices are often
found under the most pleasing exteriors.”
“But this is not even a man of inches, sir.”
“His body is not large, but it contains the spirit
of a giant.”
“And do you believe yonder ship, Mr Ark, to be
the vessel that fought us in the equinox of March?”
“I know it to be no other.”
“Hark ye, Harry, for your sake, I will deal generously
by the rogue. He once escaped me, by the
loss of a topmast, and stress of weather; but we
have here a good working breeze, that a man may
safely count on, and a fine regular sea. He is therefore
mine, so soon as I choose to make him so;—for
I do not think he has any serious intention to run.”
“I fear not,” returned Wilder, unconsciously betraying
his wishes in the words.
“Fight he cannot, with any hopes of success;
and, as he seems to be altogether a different sort of
personage from what I had supposed, we will try the
merits of negotiation. Will you undertake to be the
bearer of my propositions?—or, perhaps, he might
repent of his moderation.”
“I pledge myself for his faith,” eagerly exclaimed
Wilder “Let a gun be fired to leeward. Mind, sir,
all the tokens must be amicable—a flag of truce set
out at our main, and I will risk every hazard to lead
him back into the bosom of society.”
“By George, it would at least be acting a Christian
part,” returned the Commander, after a moment's
below, lad, for our success, there will be better births
cleared for us aloft.”
No sooner had the warm-hearted, and perhaps a
little visionary, Captain of the “Dart,” and his lieutenant,
determined on this measure, than they both
set eagerly about the means of insuring its success.
The helm of the ship was put a-lee; and, as her head
came sweeping up into the wind, a sheet of flame
flashed from her leeward bow-port, sending the customary
amicable intimation across the water, that
those who governed her movements would communicate
with the possessors of the vessel in sight. At
the same instant, a small flag, with a spotless field,
was seen floating at the topmost elevation of all her
spars, whilst the flag of England was lowered from
the gaff. A half minute of deep inquietude succeeded
these signals, in the bosoms of those who had ordered
them to be made. Their suspense was however
speedily terminated. A cloud of smoke drove
before the wind from the vessel of the Rover, and
then the smothered explosion of the answering gun
came dull upon their ears. A flag, similar to their
own, was seen floating, as it might be, like a dove
fanning its wings, far above her tops; but no emblem
of any sort was borne at the spar, where the colours
which distinguish the national character of a cruiser
are usually seen.
“The fellow has the modesty to carry a naked
gaff in our presence,” said Bignall, pointing out the
circumstance to his companion, as an augury favourable
to their success. “We will stand for him until
within a reasonable distance, and then you shall take
to the boat.”
In conformity with this determination, the “Dart”
was brought on the other tack, and several sails were
set, in order to quicken her speed. When at the
distance of half cannon shot, Wilder suggested to his
in order to avoid the appearance of hostilities.
The boat was immediately lowered into the sea, and
manned; a flag of truce set in her bows; and the
whole was reported ready to receive the bearer of
the message.
“You may hand him this statement of our force,
Mr Ark; for, as he is a reasonable man, he will see
the advantage it gives us,” said the Captain, after
having exhausted his manifold and often repeated instructions.
“I think you may promise him indemnity
for the past, provided he comply with all my
conditions; at all events, you will say that no influence
shall be spared to get a complete whitewashing
for himself at least. God bless you, boy! Take care
to say nothing of the damages we received in the
affair of March last; for — ay — for the equinox
was blowing heavy at the time, you know. Adieu!
and success attend you!”
The boat shoved off from the side of the vessel as
he ended, and in a few moments the listening Wilder
was borne far beyond the sound of any further words
of advisement. Our adventurer had sufficient time
to reflect on the extraordinary situation in which he
now found himself, during the row to the still distant
ship. Once or twice, slight and uneasy glimmerings
of distrust, concerning the prudence of the step he
was taking, beset his mind; though a recollection of
the lofty feeling of the man in whom he confided
ever presented itself in sufficient season to prevent
the apprehension from gaining any undue ascendency.
Notwithstanding the delicacy of his situation, that
characteristic interest in his profession, which is rarely
dormant in the bosom of a thorough-bred seaman,
was strongly stimulated as he approached the vessel
of the Rover. The perfect symmetry of her spars,
the graceful heavings and settings of the whole fabric,
as it rode, like a marine bird, on the long, regular
the tapering masts, as they waved across the blue
canopy, which was interlaced by all the tracery of
her complicated tackle, was not lost on an eye that
knew no less how to prize the order of the whole
than to admire the beauty of the object itself. There
is a high and exquisite taste, which the seaman attains
in the study of a machine that all have united
to commend, which may be likened to the sensibilities
that the artist acquires by close and long contemplation
of the noblest monuments of antiquity.
It teaches him to detect those imperfections which
would escape any less instructed eye; and it heightens
the pleasure with which a ship at sea is gazed
at, by enabling the mind to keep even pace with the
enjoyment of the senses. It is this powerful (and
to a landsman incomprehensible) charm that forms
the secret tie which binds the mariner so closely to
his vessel, and which often leads him to prize her
qualities as one would esteem the virtues of a friend,
and almost to be equally enamoured of the fair proportions
of his ship and of those of his mistress.
Other men may have their different inanimate subjects
of admiration; but none of their feelings so
thoroughly enter into the composition of the being
as the affection which the mariner comes, in time, to
feel for his vessel. It is his home, his theme of constant
and frequently of painful interest, his tabernacle,
and often his source of pride and exultation. As
she gratifies or disappoints his high-wrought expectations,
in her speed or in the fight, mid shoals and
hurricanes, a character for good or luckless qualities
is earned, which are as often in reality due to the
skill or ignorance of those who guide her, as to any
inherent properties of the fabric. Still does the ship
itself, in the eyes of the seaman, bear away the laurel
of success, or suffer the ignominy of defeat and
misfortune; and, when the reverse arrives the result
from the ordinary character of the vessel, as if the
construction possessed the powers of entire self-command
and perfect volition.
Though not so deeply imbued with that species of
superstitious credulity, on this subject, as the inferiors
of his profession, Wilder was keenly awake to
most of the sensibilities of a mariner. So strongly,
indeed, was he alive to this feeling, on the present
occasion, that for a moment he forgot the critical nature
of his errand, as he drew within plainer view
of a vessel that, with justice, might lay claim to be
a jewel of the ocean.
“Lay on your oars, lads,” he said, signing to his
people to arrest the progress of the boat; “lay on your
oars! Did you ever see masts more beautifully in line
than those, master Fid, or sails that had a fairer fit?”
The topman, who rowed the stroke-oar of the pinnace,
cast a look over his shoulder, and, stowing into
one of his cheeks a lump that resembled a wad laid
by the side of its gun, he was not slow to answer,
on an occasion where his opinion was so directly demanded.
“I care not who knows it,” he said, “for, done
by honest men or done by knaves, I told the people
on the forecastle of the `Dart,' in the first five minutes
after I got among them again, that they might
be at Spithead a month, and not see hamper so
light, and yet so handy, as is seen aboard that flyer.
Her lower rigging is harpened-in, like the waist of Nell
Dale after she has had a fresh pull upon her stay-lanyards,
and there isn't a block, among them all, that
seems bigger in its place than do the eyes of the girl
in her own good-looking countenance. That bit of a
set that you see to her fore-brace-block, was given by
the hand of one Richard Fid; and the heart on her
main-stay was turned-in by Guinea, here; and, considering
he is a nigger, I call it ship-shape.”
“She is beautiful in every part!” said Wilder,
drawing a long breath. “Give way, my men, give
way! Do you think I have come here to take the
soundings of the ocean?”
The crew started at the hurried tones of their lieutenant,
and in another minute the boat was at the
side of the vessel. The stern and threatening glances
that Wilder encountered, as his foot touched the
planks, caused him to pause an instant, ere he advanced
further amid the crew. But the presence of
the Rover himself, who stood, with his peculiar air
of high and imposing authority, on the quarter-deck,
encouraged him to proceed, after permitting a delay
that was too slight to attract attention. His lips were
in the act of parting, when a sign from the other induced
him to remain silent, until they were both in
the privacy of the cabin.
“Suspicion is awake among my people, Mr Ark,”
commenced the Rover, when they were thus retired,
laying a marked and significant emphasis on the name
he used. “Suspicion is stirring, though, as yet, they
hardly know what to credit. The manœuvres of
the two ships have not been such as they are wont to
see, and voices are not wanting to whisper in their ears
matter that is somewhat injurious to your interests.
You have not done well, sir, in returning among us.”
“I came by the order of my superior, and under
the sanction of a flag.”
“We are small reasoners in the legal distinctions
of the world, and may mistake your rights in so novel
a character. But,” he immediately added, with
dignity, “if you bear a message, I may presume it is
intended for my ears.”
“And for no other. We are not alone, Captain
Heidegger.”
“Heed not the boy; he is deaf at my will.”
“I could wish to communicate to you only the
offers that I bear.”
“That mast is not more senseless than Roderick.”
said the other calmly, but with decision.
“Then must I speak at every hazard.—The Commander
of yon ship, who bears the commission of
our royal master George the Second, has ordered me
to say thus much for your consideration: On condition
that you will surrender this vessel, with all her
stores, armament, and warlike munitions, uninjured,
he will content himself with taking ten hostages from
your crew, to be decided by lot, yourself, and one
other of your officers, and either to receive the remainder
into the service of the King, or to suffer
them to disperse in pursuit of a calling more creditable,
and, as it would now appear, more safe.”
“This is the liberality of a prince! I should kneel
and kiss the deck before one whose lips utter such
sounds of mercy!”
“I repeat but the words of my superior,” Wilder
resumed. “For yourself, he further promises, that
his interest shall be exerted to procure a pardon, on
condition that you quit the seas, and renounce the
name of Englishman for ever.”
“The latter is done to his hands: But may I know
the reason that such lenity is shewn to one whose
name has been so long proscribed of men?”
“Captain Bignall has heard of your generous treatment
of his officer, and the delicacy that the daughter
and widow of two ancient brethren in arms have
received at your hands. He confesses that rumour
has not done entire justice to your character.”
A mighty effort kept down the gleam of exultation
that flashed across the features of the listener, who,
however, succeeded in continuing utterly calm and
immovable.
“He has been deceived, sir”—he coldly resumed,
as though he would encourage the other to proceed.
“That much is he free to acknowledge. A representation
of this common error, to the proper authorities,
amnesty for the past, and, as he hopes, brighter prospects
for the future.”
“And does he urge no other motive than his pleasure,
why I should make this violent change in all
my habits, why I should renounce an element that
has become as necessary to me as the one I breathe,
and why, in particular, I am to disclaim the vaunted
privilege of calling myself a Briton?”
“He does. This statement of a force, which you
may freely examine with your own eyes, if so disposed,
must convince you of the hopelessness of resistance,
and will, he thinks, induce you to accept
his offers.”
“And what is your opinion?” the other demanded,
with a meaning smile and peculiar emphasis, as he
extended a hand to receive the written statement.
“But I beg pardon,” he hastily added, taking the
look of gravity from the countenance of his companion.
“I trifle, when the moment requires all our
seriousness.”
The eye of the Rover ran rapidly over the paper,
resting itself, once or twice, with a slight exhibition
of interest, on particular points, that seemed most to
merit his attention.
“You find the superiority such as I had already
given you reason to believe?” demanded Wilder,
when the look of the other wandered from the paper.
“I do.”
“And may I now ask your decision on the offer?”
“First, tell me what does your own heart advise?
This is but the language of another.”
“Captain Heidegger,” said Wilder, colouring, “I
will not attempt to conceal, that, had this message
depended solely on myself, it might have been couched
in different terms; but as one, who still deeply
retains the recollection of your generosity, as a man
who would not willingly induce even an enemy to an
will excuse me, if I say, that, in my recent intercourse,
I have had reason to believe you already perceive
that neither the character you could wish to
earn, nor the content that all men crave, is to be
found in your present career.”
“I had not thought I entertained so close a casuist
in Mr Henry Wilder. Have you more to urge, sir?”
“Nothing,” returned the disappointed and grieved
messenger of the “Dart.”
“Yes, yes, he has,” said a low but eager voice at
the elbow of the Rover, which rather seemed to
breathe out the syllables than dare to utter them
aloud; “he has not yet delivered the half of his
commission, or sadly has he forgotten the sacred
trust!”
“The boy is often a dreamer,” interrupted the
Rover, smiling, with a wild and haggard look. “He
sometimes gives form to his unmeaning thoughts, by
clothing them in words.”
“My thoughts are not unmeaning,” continued
Roderick, in a louder and far bolder strain. “If his
peace or happiness be dear to you, do not yet leave
him. Tell him of his high and honourable name;
of his youth; of that gentle and virtuous being that
he once so fondly loved, and whose memory, even
now, he worships. Speak to him of these, as you
know how to speak; and, on my life, his ear will
not be deaf, his heart cannot be callous to your
words.”
“The urchin is mad!”
“I am not mad; or, if maddened, it is by the
crimes, the dangers, of those I love. Oh! Mr Wilder,
do not leave him. Since you have been among
us, he is nearer to what I know he once was, than
formerly. Take away that mistaken statement of
your force; threats do but harden him: As a friend,
admonish; but hope for nothing as a minister of vengeance.
man, or you would not attempt to stop a torrent.
Now—now speak to him; for, see, his eye is already
growing kinder.”
“It is in pity, boy, to witness how thy reason
wavers.”
“Had it never swerved more than at this moment,
Walter, another need not be called upon to speak
between thee and me! My words would then have
been regarded, my voice would then have been loud
enough to be heard. Why are you dumb? a single
happy syllable might now save him.”
“Wilder, the child is frightened by this counting
of guns and numbering of people. He fears the anger
of your anointed master. Go; give him place
in your boat, and recommend him to the mercy of
your superior.”
“Away, away!” cried Roderick. “I shall not,
will not, cannot leave you. Who is there left for me
in this world but you?”
“Yes,” continued the Rover, whose forced calmness
of expression had changed to one of deep and
melancholy musing; “it will indeed be better thus.
See, here is much gold; you will commend him to
the care of that admirable woman who already watches
one scarcely less helpless, though possibly less—”
“Guilty! speak the word boldly, Walter. I have
earned the epithet, and shall not shrink to hear it
spoken. Look,” he said, taking the ponderous bag,
which had been extended towards Wilder, and holding
it high above his head, in scorn, “this can I cast
from me; but the tie which binds me to you shall
never be broken.”
As he spoke, the lad approached an open window
of the cabin; a plash upon the water was heard,
and then a treasure, that might have furnished a competence
to moderate wishes, was lost for ever to the
uses of those who had created its value. The lieutenant
the anger of the Rover; but his eye could trace, in
the features of the lawless chief, no other emotion
than a pity which was discoverable even through his
calm and unmoved smile.
“Roderick would make but a faithless treasurer,”
he said. “Still it is not too late to restore him to his
friends. The loss of the gold can be repaired; but,
should any serious calamity befall the boy, I might
never regain a perfect peace of mind.”
“Then keep him near yourself,” murmured the
lad, whose vehemence had seemingly expended itself.
“Go, Mr Wilder, go; your boat is waiting; a longer
stay will be without an object.”
“I fear it will!” returned our adventurer, who had
not ceased, during the previous dialogue, to keep his
look fastened, in manly commiseration, on the countenance
of the boy; “I greatly fear it will!—Since
I have come the messenger of another, Captain Heidegger,
it is your province to supply a fitting answer
to my proposition.”
The Rover took him by the arm, and led him to
a position whence they might look upon the outer
scene. Then, pointing upward at his spars, and
making his companion observe the small quantity of
sail he carried, he simply said, “Sir, you are a seaman,
and may judge of my intentions by this sight.
I shall neither seek nor avoid your boasted cruiser
of King George.”
| CHAPTER XIII. The Red Rover | |