University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.

Tempest.

The life of a packet steward is one of incessant mixing
and washing, of interrogations and compoundings, all in a
space of about twelve feet square. These functionaries,
usually clever mulattoes who have caught the civilisation
of the kitchen, are busy from morning till night in their
cabins, preparing dishes, issuing orders, regulating courses,
starting corks, and answering questions. Apathy is the
great requisite for the station; for wo betide the wretch who
fancies any modicum of zeal, or good nature, can alone fit
him for the occupation. From the moment the ship sails
until that in which a range of the cable is overhauled, or
the chain is rowsed up in readiness to anchor, no smile
illumines his face, no tone issues from his voice while on
duty, but that of dogged routine—of submission to those
above, or of snarling authority to those beneath him. As
the hour for the “drink gelt,” or “buona mana,” approaches,
however, he becomes gracious and smiling. On
his first appearance in the pantry of a morning, he has a

regular series of questions to answer, and for which, like
the dutiful Zeluco, who wrote all his letters to his mother
on the same day, varying the dates to suit the progress
of time, he not unfrequently has a regular set of answers
cut and dried, in his gastronomical mind. “How's the
wind?” “How's the weather?” “How's her head?” all
addressed to this standing almanack, are mere matters
of course, for which he is quite prepared, though it is by no
means unusual to hear him ordering a subordinate to go on
deck, after the answer is given, with a view to ascertain the
facts. It is only when the voice of the captain is heard
from his state-room, that he conceives himself bound to be
very particular, though such is the tact of all connected
with ships, that they instinctively detect the “know nothings,”
who are uniformly treated with an indifference
suited to their culpable ignorance. Even the “old salt” on
the forecastle has an instinct for a brother tar, though a
passenger, and a due respect is paid to Neptune in answering
his inquiries, while half the time the maiden
traveller meets with a grave equivoque, a marvel, or a
downright mystification.

On the first morning out, the steward of the Montauk
commenced the dispensation of his news; for no sooner
was he heard rattling the glasses, and shuffling plates in
the pantry, than the attack was begun by Mr. Dodge, in
whom “a laudable thirst after knowledge,” as exemplified
in putting questions, was rather a besetting principle. This
gentleman had come out in the ship, as has been mentioned,
and unfortunately for the interest of his propensity, not
only the steward, but all on board, had, as it is expressed
in slang language, early taken the measure of his foot.
The result of his present application was the following
brief dialogue.

“Steward,” called out Mr. Dodge, through the blinds
of his state-room; “whereabouts are we?”

“In the British Channel, sir.”

“I might have guessed that, myself.”

“So I s'pose, sir; nobody is better at guessing and diwining
than Mr. Dodge.”

“But in what part of the Channel are we, Saunders?”

“About the middle, sir.”

“How far have we come to night?”

“From Portsmouth Roads to this place, sir.”

Mr. Dodge was satisfied, and the steward, who would
not have dared to be so explicit with any other cabin-passenger,
continued coolly to mix an omelette. The next attack
was made from the same room, by Sir George Templemore.

“Steward, my good fellow, do you happen to know
whereabouts we are?”

“Certainly, sir; the land is still werry obwious.”

“Are we getting on cleverly?”

“Nicely, sir;” with a mincing emphasis on the first
word, that betrayed there was a little waggery about the
grave-looking mulatto.

“And the sloop-of-war, steward?”

“Nicely too, sir.”

There was a shuffling in the state-room, followed by a
silence. The door of Mr. Sharp's room was now opened
an inch or two, and the following questions issued through
the crevice:

“Is the wind favourable, steward?”

“Just her character, sir.”

“Do you mean that the wind is favourable?”

“For the Montauk, sir; she's a persuader in this
breeze.”

“But is she going in the direction we wish?”

“If the gentleman wishes to perambulate America, it is
probable he will get there with a little patience.”

Mr. Sharp pulled-to his door, and ten minutes passed
without further questions; the steward beginning to hope
the morning catechism was over, though he grumbled a
wish that gentlemen would “turn out” and take a look for
themselves. Now, up to this moment, Saunders knew no
more, than those who had just been questioning him of the
particular situation of the ship, in which he floated as indifferent
to the whereabouts and the winds, as men sail in the
earth along its orbit, without bethinking them of parallaxes,
nodes, ecliptics, and solstices. Aware that it was about
time for the captain to be heard, he sent a subordinate on
deck, with a view to be ready to meet the usual questions
from his commander. A couple of minutes were sufficient

to put him au courant of the real state of things. The next
door that opened was that of Paul Blunt, however, who
thrust his head into the cabin, with all his dark curls in the
confusion of a night scene.

“Steward!”

“Sir.”

“How's the wind?”

“Quite exhilarating, sir.”

“From what quarter?”

“About south, sir.”

“Is there much of it?”

“A prewailing breeze, sir.”

“And the sloop?”

“She's to leeward, sir, operating along as fast as she
can.”

“Steward!”

“Sir,” stepping hurriedly out of his pantry, in order to
hear more distinctly.

“Under what sail are we?”

“Topgallant sails, sir.”

“How's her head?”

“West-south-west, sir.”

“Delicious! Any news of the rover?”

“Hull down to leeward, sir, and on our quarter.”

“Staggering along, eh?”

“Quite like a disguised person, sir.”

“Better still. Hurry along that breakfast of yours, sir;
I am as hungry as a Troglodyte.”

The honest captain had caught this word from a recent
treatise against agrarianism, and having an acquired taste
for orders in one sense, at least, he flattered himself with
being what is called a Conservative; in other words, he had
a strong relish for that maxim of the Scotch freebooter,
which is rendered into English by the homely aphorism of
“keep what you've got, and get what you can.”

A cessation of the interrogatories took place, and soon
after the passengers began to appear in the cabin, one by
one. As the first step is almost invariably to go on deck,
especially in good weather, in a few minutes nearly all of
the last night's party were again assembled in the open air,
a balm that none can appreciate but those who have experienced

the pent atmosphere of a crowded vessel. The
steward had rendered a faithful account of the state of the
weather to the captain, who was now seen standing in the
main-rigging, looking at the clouds to windward, and at the
sloop-of-war to leeward, in the knowing manner of one who
was making comparisons materially to the disadvantage of
the latter.

The day was fine, and the Montauk, bearing her canvas
nobly, was, to use the steward's language, also staggering
along, under everything that would draw, from her topgallant-sails
down, with the wind near two points forward of
the beam, or on an easy bowline. As there was but little
sea, her rate was quite nine knots, though varying with the
force of the wind. The cruiser had certainly followed them
thus far, though doubts began to be entertained whether she
was in chase, or merely bound like themselves to the west-ward;
a course common to all vessels that wish to clear
the Channel, even when it is intended to go south, as the
rocks and tides of the French coast are inconvenient neighbours
in long nights.

“Who knows, after all, that the cutter which tried to
board us,” asked the captain aloud, “belongs to the ship to
leeward?”

“I know the boat, sir,” answered the second mate; “and
the ship is the Foam.”

“Let her foam away, then, if she wishes to speak us.
Has any one tried her bearings since daylight?”

“We set her by the compass at six o'clock, sir, and she
has not varied her bearing, as far as from one belaying pin
to another, in three hours; but her hull rises fast: you can
now make out her ports, and at daylight the bottom of her
courses dipped.”

“Ay, ay, she is a light-going Foam, then! If that is
the case, she will be alongside of us by night.”

“In which event, captain, you will be obliged to give him
a broadside of Vattel,” threw in John Effingham, in his
cool manner.

“If that will answer his errand, he is welcome to as
much as he can carry. I begin to doubt, gentlemen, whether
this fellow be not in earnest: in which case you may
have an opportunity of witnessing how ships are handled,

when seamen have their management. I have no objection
to setting the experience of a poor come-and-go sort of a
fellow, like myself, in opposition to the geometry and
Hamilton Moore of a young man-of-war's-man. I dare
say, now, yonder chap is a lord, or a lord's progeny, while
poor Jack Truck is just as you see him.”

“Do you not think half-an-hour of compliance on our
part might bring the matter to an amicable conclusion at
once?” said Paul Blunt. “Were we to run down to him,
the object of his pursuit could be determined in a few
minutes.”

“What! and abandon poor Davis to the rapacity of that
rascally attorney?” generously exclaimed Sir George Templemore.
“I would prefer paying the port charges myself,
run into the handiest French port, and let the honest fellow
escape!”

“There is no probability that a cruiser would attempt to
take a mere debtor from a foreign vessel on the open sea.”

“If there were no tobacco in the world, Mr. Blunt, I
might feel disposed to waive the categories, and show the
gentleman that courtesy,” returned the captain, who was
preparing another cigar. “But while the cruiser might not
feel authorised to take an absconding debtor from this vessel,
he might feel otherwise on the subject of tobacco, provided
there has been an information for smuggling.”

Captain Truck then explained, that the subordinates of
the packets frequently got their ships into trouble, by taking
adventures of the forbidden weed clandestinely into European
ports, and that his ship, in such circumstances, would
lose her place in the line, and derange all the plans of the
company to which she belonged. He did the English
government the justice to say, that it had always manifested
a liberal disposition not to punish the innocent for the
guilty; but were any such complaints actually in the wind,
he thought he could settle it with much less loss to himself
on his return, than on the day of sailing. While this explanation
was delivered, a group had clustered round the
speaker, leaving Eve and her party on the opposite side of
the deck.

“This last speech of Mr. Blunt's quite unsettles my opinion
of his national character, as Vattel and our worthy

captain would say,” remarked Mr. Sharp. “Last night, I
set him down as a right loyal American; but I think it
would not be natural for a thorough-going countryman of
yours, Miss Effingham, to propose this act of courtesy to a
cruiser of King William.”

“How far any countrymen of mine, thorough-going or
not, have reason to manifest extreme courtesy to any of
your cruisers,” Eve laughingly replied, “I shall leave Captain
Truck to say. But, with you, I have long been at a
loss to determine whether Mr. Blunt is an Englishman or
an American, or indeed, whether he be either.”

“Long, Miss Effingham! He then has the honour of
being well known to you?”

Eve answered steadily, though the colour mounted to her
brow; but whether from the impetuous exclamation of her
companion, or from any feeling connected with the subject
of their conversation, the young man was at a loss to discover.

“Long, as girls of twenty count time—some four or five
years; but you may judge how well, when I tell you I am
ignorant of his country even.”

“And may I venture to ask which do you, yourself, give
him credit for being, an American or an Englishman?”

Eve's bright eyes laughed, as she answered, “You have
put the question with so much finesse, and with a politeness
so well managed, that I should indeed be churlish to refuse
an answer:—Nay, do not interrupt me, and spoil all the
good you have done by unnecessary protestations of sincerity.”

“All I wish to say is, to ask an explanation of a finesse,
of which I am quite as innocent as of any wish to draw
down upon myself the visitations of your displeasure.”

“Do you, then, really conceive it a credit to be an
American?”

“Nobody of less modesty than yourself, Miss Effingham,
under all the circumstances, would dream of asking
the question.”

“I thank you for the civility, which must be taken as it
is offered, I presume, quite as a thing en règle; but to leave
our fine opinions of each other, as well as our prejudices,
out of the question—”

“You will excuse me if I object to this, for I feel my
good sense implicated. You can hardly attribute to me
opinions so utterly unreasonable, so unworthy of a gentleman—so
unfounded, in short! Am I not incurring all the
risks and hardships of a long sea-voyage, expressly to visit
your great country, and, I trust, to improve by its example
and society?”

“Since you appear to wish it, Mr. Sharp—” Eve glanced
her playful eye up at him as she pronounced the name—“I
will be as credulous as a believer in animal magnetism: and
that, I fancy, is pushing credulity to the verge of reason.
It is now settled between us, that you do conceive it an
honour to be an American, born, educated, and by extraction.”

“All of which being the case with Miss Effingham.”

“All but the second; indeed, they write me fearful things
concerning this European education of mine: some even
go so far as to assure me I shall be quite unfitted to live in
the society to which I properly belong!”

“Europe will be rejoiced to receive you back again, in
that case; and no European more so than myself.”

The beautiful colour deepened a little on the cheek of
Eve, but she made no immediate reply.

“To return to our subject,” she at length said; “Were
I required to say, I should not be able to decide on the country
of Mr. Blunt; nor have I ever met with any one who
appeared to know. I saw him first in Germany, where he
circulated in the best company; though no one seemed
acquainted with his history, even there. He made a good
figure; was quite at his ease; speaks several languages
almost as well as the natives of the different countries themselves;
and, altogether, was a subject of curiosity with
those who had leisure to think of any thing but their own
dissipation and folly.”

Mr. Sharp listened with obvious gravity to the fair speaker,
and had not her own eyes been fastened on the deck, she
might have detected the lively interest betrayed in his.
Perhaps the feeling which was at the bottom of all this, to
a slight degree, influenced his answer.

“Quite an Admirable Crichton!”

“I do not say that, though certainly expert in tongues

My own rambling life has made me acquainted with a few
languages, and I do assure you, this gentleman speaks three
or four with almost equal readiness, and with no perceptible
accent. I remember, at Vienna, many even believed him
to be a German.”

“What! with the name of Blunt?”

Eve smiled, and her companion, who silently watched
every expression of her varying countenance, as if to read
her thoughts, noted it.

“Names signify little in these migratory times,” returned
the young lady. “You have but to imagine a von before
it, and it would pass at Dresden, or at Berlin. Von Blunt,
der Edelgeborne Graf Von Blunt, Hofrath—or if you like
it better, Geheimer Rath mit Excellenz und eure Gnaden.”

“Or, Baw-Berg-Veg-Inspector-Substitut!” added Mr.
Sharp, laughing. “No, no! this will hardly pass. Blunt
is a good old English name; but it has not finesse enough
for Italian, German, Spanish, or anything else but John
Bull and his family.”

“I see no necessity, for my part, for all this Bluntishness;
the gentleman may think frankness a good travelling
quality.”

“Surely, he has not concealed his real name!”

“Mr. Sharp, Mr. Blunt; Mr. Blunt, Mr. Sharp;” rejoined
Eve, laughing until her bright eyes danced with pleasure.
“There would be something ridiculous, indeed, in
seeing so much of the finesse of a master of ceremonies
subjected to so profound a mystification! I have been told
that passing introductions amount to little among you men,
and this would be a case in point.”

“I would I dared ask if it be really so.”

“Were I to be guilty of indiscretion in another's case,
you would not fail to distrust me in your own. I am, moreover,
a protestant, and abjure auricular confessions.”

“You will not frown if I inquire whether the rest of your
party remember him?”

“My father, Mademoiselle Viefville, and the excellent
Nanny Sidley, again; but, I think, none other of the servants,
as he never visited us. Mr. John Effingham was
travelling in Egypt at the time, and did not see him at all,
and we only met in general society; Nanny's acquaintance

was merely that of seeing him check his horse in the Prater,
to speak to us of a morning.”

“Poor fellow, I pity him; he has, at least, never had the
happiness of strolling on the shores of Como and the
islands of Laggo Maggiore in your company, or of studying
the wonders of the Pitti and the Vatican.”

“If I must confess all, he journeyed with us on foot and
in boats an entire month, among the wonders of the Oberland,
and across the Wallenstadt. This was at a time
when we had no one with us but the regular guides and the
German courier, who was discharged in London.”

“Were it not for the impropriety of tampering with a
servant, I would cross the deck and question your good
Nanny, this moment!” said Mr. Sharp with playful
menace. “Of all torture, that of suspense is the hardest
to be borne.”

“I grant you full permission, and acquit you of all sins,
whether of disrespect, meanness, impertinence, ungentlemanlike
practices, or any other vice that may be thought
to attend and characterize the act.”

“This formidable array of qualities would check the
curiosity of a village gossip!”

“It has an effect I did not intend, then; I wish you to put
your threat in execution.”

“Not seriously, surely?”

“Never more so. Take a favourable moment to speak
to the good soul, as an old acquaintance; she remembers
you well, and by a little of that interrogating management
you possess, a favourable opportunity may occur to bring
in the other subject. In the mean time, I will glance over
the pages of this book.”

As Eve began to read, Mr. Sharp perceived she was in
earnest, and hesitating a moment, in doubt of the propriety
of the act, he yielded to her expressed desire, and strolled
carelessly towards the faithful old domestic. He addressed
her indifferently at first, until believing he might go further,
he smilingly observed that he believed he had seen her in
Italy. To this Nanny quietly assented, and when he indirectly
added that it was under another name, she smiled,
but merely intimated her consciousness of the fact, by a
quick glance of the eye.

“You know that travellers assume names for the sake
of avoiding curiosity,” he added, “and I hope you will not
betray me.”

“You need not fear me, sir; I meddle with little besides
my own duty, and so long as Miss Eve appears to think
there is no harm in it, I will venture to say it is no more
than a gentleman's caprice.”

“Why, that is the very word she applied to it herself!
You have caught the term from Miss Effingham.”

“Well, sir, and if I have, it is caught from one who deals
little harm to any.”

“I believe I am not the only one on board who travels
under a false name, if the truth were known?”

Nanny looked first at the deck, then at her interrogator's
face, next towards Mr. Blunt, withdrawing her eye again,
as if guilty of an indiscretion, and finally at the sails. Perceiving
her embarrassment, respecting her discretion, and
ashamed of the task he had undertaken, Mr. Sharp said a
few civil things suited to the condition of the woman, and
sauntering about the deck for a short time, to avoid suspicion,
soon found himself once more alongside of Eve. The
latter inquired with her eyes, a little exultingly perhaps,
concerning his success.

“I have failed,” he said; “but something must be
ascribed to my own awkward diffidence; for there is so
much meanness in tampering with a servant, that I had not
the heart to push my questions, even while I am devoured
by curiosity.”

“Your fastidiousness is not a disease with which all on
board are afflicted, for there is at least one grand inquisitor
among us, by what I can learn; so take heed to your sins,
and above all, be very guarded of old letters, marks, and
other tell-tales, that usually expose impostors.”

“To all that, I believe, sufficient care has already been
had, by that other Dromio, my own man.”

“And in what way do you share the name between you?
Is it Dromio of Syracuse, and Dromio of Ephesus? or does
John call himself Fitz-Edward, or Mortimer, or De
Courey?”

“He has complaisance enough to make the passage with
nothing but a Christian name, I believe. In truth, it was

by a mere accident that I turned usurper in this way. He
took the state-room for me, and being required to give a
name, he gave his own, as usual. When I went to the
docks to look at the ship, I was saluted as Mr. Sharp, and
then the conceit took me of trying how it would wear for
a month or six weeks. I would give the world to know if
the Geheimer Rath got his cognomen in the same honest
manner.”

“I think not, as his man goes by the pungent title of
Pepper. Unless poor John should have occasion for two
names during the passage, you are reasonably safe. And,
still, I think,” continued Eve, biting her lips, like one who
deliberated, “if it were any longer polite to bet, Mr. John
Effingham would hazard all the French gloves in his trunks,
against all the English finery in yours, that the inquisitor
just hinted at gets at your secret before we arrive. Perhaps
I ought rather to say, ascertains that you are not Mr. Sharp,
and that Mr. Blunt is.”

Her companion entreated her to point out the person to
whom she had given the sobriquet she mentioned.

“Accuse me of giving nicknames to no one. The man
has this title from Mademoiselle Viefville, and his own great
deeds. It is a certain Mr. Steadfast Dodge, who, it seems,
knows something of us, from the circumstance of living in
the same county, and who, from knowing a little in this
comprehensive manner, is desirous of knowing a great deal
more.”

“The natural result of all useful knowledge.”

“Mr. John Effingham, who is apt to fling sarcasms at
all lands, his native country included, affirms that this gentleman
is but a fair specimen of many more it will be our
fortune to meet in America. If so, we shall not long be
strangers; for according to Mademoiselle Viefville and my
good Nanny, he has already communicated to them a thousand
interesting particulars of himself, in exchange for
which he asks no more than the reasonable compensation
of having all his questions concerning us truly answered.”

“This is certainly alarming intelligence, and I shall take
heed accordingly.”

“If he discover that John is without a surname, I am far
from certain he will not prepare to have him arraigned for

some high crime or misdemeanour; for Mr. John Effingham
maintains that the besetting propensity of all this class is
to divine the worst the moment their imaginations cease to
be fed with facts. All is false with them, and it is flattery
or accusation.”

The approach of Mr. Blunt caused a cessation of the discourse,
Eve betraying a slight degree of sensitiveness about
admitting him to share in these little asides, a circumstance
that her companion observed, not without satisfaction. The
discourse now became general, the person who joined them
amusing the others with an account of several proposals
already made by Mr. Dodge, which, as he expressed it, in
making the relation, manifested the strong community-characteristics
of an American. The first proposition was
to take a vote to ascertain whether Mr. Van Buren or Mr.
Harrison was the greatest favourite of the passengers; and,
on this being defeated, owing to the total ignorance of so
many on board of both the parties he had named, he had
suggested the expediency of establishing a society to ascertain
daily the precise position of the ship. Captain Truck
had thrown cold water on the last proposal, however, by
adding to it what, among legislators, is called a “rider;”
he having drily suggested that one of the duties of the said
society should be to ascertain also the practicability of
wading across the Atlantic.