University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.

Shakspeare.

Happy is the man who arrives on the coast of New York,
with the wind at the southward, in the month of November.
There are two particular conditions of the weather, in which
the stranger receives the most unfavourable impressions of
the climate that has been much and unjustly abused, but
which two particular conditions warrant all the evil that has
been said of it. One is a sweltering day in summer, and
the other an autumnal day, in which the dry north wind
scarce seems to leave any marrow in the bones.

The passengers of the Montauk escaped both these evils,
and now approached the coast with a bland southwest breeze,
and a soft sky. The ship had been busy in the night, and
when the party assembled on deck in the morning, Captain
Truck told them, that in an hour they should have a sight
of the long-desired western continent. As the packet was

running in at the rate of nine knots, under topmast and top-gallant
studding-sails, being to windward of her port, this
was a promise that the gallant vessel seemed likely enough
to redeem.

“Toast!” called out the captain, who had dropped into
his old habits as naturally as if nothing had occurred, “bring
me a coal; and you, master steward, look well to the breakfast
this morning. If the wind stands six hours longer, I
shall have the grief of parting with this good company, and
you the grief of knowing you will never set another meal
before them. These are moments to awaken sentiment, and
yet I never knew an officer of the pantry that did not begin
to grin as he drew near his port.”

“It is usually a cheerful moment with every one, I believe,
Captain Truck,” said Eve, “and most of all, should
it be one of heartfelt gratitude with us.”

“Ay, ay, my dear young lady; and yet I fancy Mr.
Saunders will explain it rather differently. Has no one sung
out `land,' yet, from aloft, Mr. Leach? The sands of New
Jersey ought to be visible before this.”

“We have seen the haze of the land since daylight, but
not land itself.”

“Then, like old Columbus, the flowered doublet is mine—
land, ho!”

The mates and the people laughed, and looking ahead,
they nodded to each other, and the word “land” passed from
mouth to mouth, with the indifference with which mariners
first see it in short passages. Not so with the rest.
They crowded together, and endeavoured to catch a glimpse
of the coveted shore, though, with the exception of Paul,
neither could perceive it.

“We must call on you for assistance,” said Eve, who
now seldom addressed the handsome young seaman without
a flush on her own beautiful face; “for we are all so lubberly
that none of us can see that which we so earnestly
desire.”

“Have the kindness to look over the stock of that anchor,”
said Paul, glad of an excuse to place himself nearer to
Eve; “and you will discover an object on the water.”

“I do,” said Eve, “but is it not a vessel?”

“It is; but a little to the right of that vessel, do you not
perceive a hazy object at some elevation above the sea?”

“The cloud, you mean—a dim, ill-defined, dark body
of vapour?”

“So it may seem to you, but to me it appears to be the
land. That is the bluff-like termination of the celebrated
high lands of Navesink. By watching it for half an hour,
you will perceive its form and surface grow gradually more
distinct.”

Eve eagerly pointed out the place to Mademoiselle Viefville
and her father, and from that moment, for near an
hour, most of the passengers kept it steadily in view. As
Paul had said, the blue of this hazy object deepened; then
its base became connected with the water, and it ceased to
resemble a cloud at all. In twenty more minutes, the faces
and angles of the hills became visible, and trees started
out of their sides. In the end a pair of twin lights were
seen perched on the summit.

But the Montauk edged away from these highlands, and
shaped her course towards a long low spit of sand, that
lay several miles to the northward of them. In this direction,
fifty small sail were gathering into, or diverging from
the pass, their high, gaunt-looking canvas resembling so
many church towers on the plains of Lombardy. These
were coasters, steering towards their several havens. Two
or three outward-bound ships were among them, holding
their way in the direction of China, the Pacific Ocean, or
Europe.

About nine, the Montauk met a large ship standing on a
bowline, with every thing set that would draw, and heaping
the water under her bows. A few minutes after, Captain
Truck, whose attention had been much diverted from the
surrounding objects by the care of his ship, came near the
group of passengers, and once more entered into conversation.

“Here we are, my dear young lady,” he cried, “within
five leagues of Sandy Hook, which lies hereaway, under
our lee bow; as pretty a position as heart could wish. This
lank, hungry-looking schooner in-shore of us, is a news-vessel,
and, as soon as she is done with the brig near her,

we shall have her in chase, when there will be a good opportunity
to get rid of all our spare lies. This little fellow
to leeward, who is clawing up towards us, is the pilot; after
whose arrival, my functions cease, and I shall have little to
do but to rattle off Saunders and Toast, and to feed the
pigs.”

“And who is this gentleman ahead of us, with his main-topsail
to the mast, his courses in the brails, and his helm
a-lee?” asked Paul.

“Some chap who has forgotten his knee-buckles, and has
been obliged to send a boat up to town to hunt for them,”
coolly rejoined the captain, while he sought the focus of the
glass, and levelled it at the vessel in question. The look
was long and steady, and twice Captain Truck lowered the
instrument to wipe the moisture from his own eye. A
length, he called out, to the amazement of every body,

“Stand by to in all studding-sails, and to ware to the
eastward. Be lively, men, be lively! The eternal Foam, as
I am a miserable sinner!”

Paul laid a hand on the arm of Captain Truck, and
stopped him, as the other was about to spring towards the
forecastle, with a view to aid and encourage his people.

“You forget that we have neither spars nor sails suited
to a chase,” said the young man. “If we haul off to sea-ward
on any tack we can try, the corvette will be too much
for us now, and excuse me if I say that a different course
will be advisable.”

The captain had learned to respect the opinion of Paul
and he took the interference kindly.

“What choice remains, but to run down into the very
jaws of the lion,” he asked, “or to wear round, and stand
to the eastward?”

“We have two alternatives. We may pass unnoticed,
the ship being so much altered; or we may haul up on the
tack we are on, and get into shallow water.”

“He draws as little as this ship, sir, and would follow.
There is no port short of Egg Harbour, and into that I
should be bashful about entering with a vessel of this size;
whereas, by running to the eastward, and doubling Montauk,
which would owe us shelter on account of our name,

I might get into the Sound, or New London, at need, and
then claim the sweepstakes, as having won the race.”

“This would be impossible, Captain Truck, allow me to
say. Dead before the wind, we cannot escape, for the land
would fetch us up in a couple of hours; to enter by Sandy
Hook, if known, is impossible, on account of the corvette,
and, in a chase of a hundred and twenty miles, we should
be certain to be overtaken.”

“I fear you are right, my dear sir, I fear you are right.
The studding-sails are now in, and I will haul up for the
highlands, and anchor under them, should it be necessary.
We can then give this fellow Vattel in large quantities, for
I hardly think he will venture to seize us while we have an
anchor fast to good American ground.”

“How near dare you stand to the shore?”

“Within a mile ahead of us; but to enter the Hook, the
bar must be crossed a league or two off.”

“The latter is unlucky; but, by all means, get the vessel
in with the land; so near as to leave no doubt as to our
being in American waters.”

“We'll try him, sir, we'll try him. After having escaped
the Arabs, the deuce is in it, if we cannot weather upon
John Bull! I beg your pardon, Mr. Sharp; but this is a
question that must be settled by some of the niceties of the
great authorities.”

The yards were now braced forward, and the ship was
brought to the wind, so as to head in a little to the northward
of the bathing-houses at Long Branch. But for this
sudden change of course, the Montauk would have run
down dead upon the corvette, and possibly might have
passed her undetected, owing to the change made in her
appearance by the spars of the Dane. So long as she continued
“bows on,” standing towards them, not a soul on
board the Foam suspected her real character, though, now
that she acted so strangely, and offered her broadside to
view, the truth became known in an instant. The main-yard
of the corvette was swung, and her sails were filled
on the same course as that on which the packet was steering.
The two vessels were about ten miles from the land,
the Foam a little ahead, but fully a league to leeward.

The latter, however, soon tacked and stood in-shore. This
brought the vessels nearly abreast of each other, the corvette
a mile or more, dead to leeward, and distant now some
six miles from the coast. The great superiority of the corvette's
sailing was soon apparent to all on board both vessels,
for she apparently went two feet to the packet's one.

The history of this meeting, so unexpected to Captain
Truck, was very simple. When the gale had abated, the
corvette, which had received no damage, hauled up along
the African coast, keeping as near as possible to the supposed
track of the packet, and failing to fall in with her
chase, she had filled away for New York. On making the
Hook she took a pilot, and inquired if the Montauk had
arrived. From the pilot she learned that the vessel of
which she was in quest had not yet made its appearance,
and she sent an officer up to the town to communicate with
the British Consul. On the return of this officer, the corvette
stood away from the land, and commenced cruising
in the offing. For a week she had now been thus occupied,
it being her practice to run close in, in the morning, and to
remain hovering about the bar until near night, when she
made sail for an offing. When first seen from the Montauk,
she had been lying-to, to take in stores sent from the town,
and to communicate with a news-boat.

The passengers of the Montauk had just finished their
breakfast, when the mate reported that the ship was fast
shoaling her water, and that it would be necessary to alter
the course in a few minutes, or to anchor. On repairing to
the deck, Captain Truck and his companions perceived the
land less than a mile ahead of them, and the corvette about
half that distance to the leeward, and nearly abeam.

“That is a bold fellow,” exclaimed the captain, “or he
has got a Sandy Hook pilot on board him.”

“Most probably the latter,” said Paul: “he would scarcely
be here on this duty, and neglect so simple a precaution.”

“I think this would satisfy Mr. Vattel, sir,” returned Captain
Truck, as the man in the chains sung out, `and a half
three!' “Hard up with the helm, and lay the yards square,
Mr. Leach.”

“Now we shall soon know the virtue of Vattel,” said

John Effingham, “as ten minutes will suffice to raise the
question very fairly.”

The Foam put her helm down, and tacked beautifully to
the south-east. As soon as the Montauk, which vessel was
now running along shore, keeping in about four fathoms
water, the sea being as smooth as a pond, was a-beam, the
corvette wore round, and began to close with her chase,
keeping on her eastern, or outer board.

“Were we an enemy, and a match for that sloop,” said
Paul, “this smooth water and yard-arm attitude would make
quick work.”

“Her captain is in the gangway, taking our measure,”
observed Mr. Truck: “here is the glass; I wish you to
examine his face, and tell me if you think him a man with
whom the law of nations will avail anything. See the
anchor clear, Mr. Leach, for I'm determined to bring up all
standing, if the gentleman intends to renew the old tricks of
John Bull on our coast. What do you make of him, Mr.
Blunt?”

Paul did not answer, but laying down the glass, he paced
the deck rapidly with the manner of one much disturbed.
All observed this sudden change, though no one presumed
to comment on it. In the mean time the sloop-of-war came
up fast, and in a few minutes her larboard fore-yard-arm
was within twenty feet of the starboard main-yard-arm of
the Montauk, the two vessels running on parallel lines. The
corvette now hauled up her fore-course, and let her top-gallant
sails settle on the caps, though a dead silence reigned
in her.

“Give me the trumpet,” said Captain Truck, stepping to
the rail; “the gentleman is about to give us a piece of his
mind.”

The English captain, who was easily known by his two
epaulettes, also held a trumpet; but neither of the two commanders
used his instrument, the distance being sufficiently
near for the natural voice.

“I believe, sir,” commenced the man-of-war's-man, “that
I have the pleasure to see Captain Truck, of the Montauk,
London packet?”

“Ay, ay; I'll warrant you he has my name alongside of

John Doe and Richard Roe,” muttered Mr. Truck, “spelt
as carefully as it could be in a primer.—I am Captain
Truck, and this is the Montauk. May I ask the name of
your vessel, and your own, sir?”

“This is his Britannic Majesty's ship, the Foam, Captain
Ducie.”

“The Honourable Captain Ducie!” exclaimed Mr. Sharp.
“I thought I recognised the voice: I know him intimately
well.”

“Will he stand Vattel?” anxiously demanded Mr. Truck.

“Nay, as for that, I must refer you to himself.”

“You appear to have suffered in the gale,” resumed
Captain Ducie, whose smile was very visible, as he thus
addressed them like an old acquaintance. “We fared better
ourselves, for I believe we did not part a rope-yarn.”

“The ship pitched every stick out of her,” returned
Captain Truck, “and has given us the trouble of a new
outfit.”

“In which you appear to have succeeded admirably.
Your spars and sails are a size or two too small; but every
thing stands like a church.”

“Ay, ay, now we have got on our new clothes, we are
not ashamed to be seen.”

“May I ask if you have been in port to do all this?”

“No, sir; picked them up along-shore.”

The Honourable Captain Ducie thought he was quizzed,
and his manner became a little more cold, though it still
retained its gentlemanlike tone.

“I wish much to see you in private, sir, on an affair of
some magnitude, and I greatly regret it was not in my power
to speak you the night you left Portsmouth. I am quite
aware you are in your own waters, and I feel a strong reluctance
to retain your passengers when so near their port;
but I shall feel it as a particular favour if you will permit
me to repair on board for a few minutes.”

“With all my heart,” cried Captain Truck: “if you will
give me room, I will back my main-topsail, but I wish to
lay my head off shore. This gentleman understands Vattel,
and we shall have no trouble with him. Keep the anchor
clear, Mr. Leach, for `fair words butter no parsnips.' Still,

he is a gentleman;—and, Saunders, put a bottle of the old
Madeira on the cabin table.”

Captain Ducie now left the rigging in which he had stood,
and the corvette luffed off to the eastward, to give room to
the packet, where she hove-to with her fore-topsail aback.
The Montauk followed, taking a position under her lee. A
quarter-boat was lowered, and in five minutes its oars were
tossed at the packet's lee-gangway, when the commander of
the corvette ascended the ship's side, followed by a middleaged
man in the dress of a civilian, and a chubby-faced
midshipman.

No one could mistake Captain Ducie for anything but a
gentleman. He was handsome, well-formed, and about five-and-twenty.
The bow he made to Eve, with whose beauty
and air he seemed instantly struck, would have become a
drawing-room; but he was too much of an officer to permit
any further attention to escape him until he had paid his
respects to, and received the compliments of, Captain Truck.
He then turned to the ladies and Mr. Effingham, and repeated
his salutations.

“I fear,” he said, “my duty has made me the unwilling
instrument of prolonging your passage, for I believe few
ladies love the ocean sufficiently, easily to forgive hose who
lengthen its disagreeables.”

“We are old travellers, and know how to allow for the
obligations of duty,” Mr. Effingham civilly answered.

“That they do, sir,” put in Captain Truck; “and it was
never my good fortune to have a more agreeable set of passengers.
Mr. Effingham, the Honourable Captain Ducie;—
the Honourable Captain Ducie, Mr. Effingham;—Mr. John
Effingham, Mam'selle V. A. V.” endeavouring always to
imitate Eve's pronunciation of the name;—“Mr. Dodge,
the Honourable Captain Ducie; the Honourable Captain
Ducie, Mr. Dodge.”

The Honourable Captain Ducie and all the others, the
editor of the Active Inquirer excepted, smiled slightly,
though they respectively bowed and curtseyed; but Mr.
Dodge, who conceived himself entitled to be formally introduced
to every one he met, and to know all he saw,
whether introduced or not, stepped forward promptly, and
shook Mr. Ducie very cordially by the hand.

Captain Truck now turned in quest of some one else to
introduce; Mr. Sharp stood near the capstan, and Paul had
retired as far aft as the hurricane-house.

“I am happy to see you in the Montauk,” added Captain
Truck, insensibly leading the other towards the capstan,
“and am sorry I had not the satisfaction of meeting you
in England. The Honourable Captain Ducie, Mr. Sharp;
Mr. Sharp, the Honourable Captain—”

“George Templemore!” exclaimed the commander of the
corvette, looking from one to the other.

“Charles Ducie!” exclaimed the soi-disant Mr. Sharp.

“Here then is an end of part of my hopes, and we have
been on a wrong scent the whole time.”

“Perhaps not, Ducie: explain yourself.”

“You must have perceived my endeavours to speak you,
from the moment you sailed?”

“To speak us!” cried Captain Truck. “Yes, sir, we
did observe your endeavours to speak us.”

“It was because I was given to understand that one calling
himself Sir George Templemore, an impostor, however,
had taken passage in this ship; and here I find that we
have been misled, by the real Sir George Templemore's
having chosen to come this way instead of coming by the
Liverpool ship. So much for your confounded fashionable
caprices, Templemore, which never lets you know in the
morning whether you are to shoot yourself or to get married
before night.”

“And is this gentleman Sir George Templemore?” pithily
demanded Captain Truck.

“For that I can vouch, on the knowledge of my whole
life.”

“And we know this to be true, and have known it since
the day we sailed,” observed Mr. Effingham.

Captain Truck was accustomed to passengers under false
names, but never before had he been so completely mystified.

“And pray, sir,” he inquired of the baronet, “are you a
member of Parliament?”

“I have that honour.”

“And Templemore Hall is your residence, and you have
come out to look at the Canadas?”

“I am the owner of Templemore Hall, and hope to look
at the Canadas before I return.”

“And,” turning to Captain Ducie, “you sailed in quest
of another Sir George Templemore—a false one?”

“That is a part of my errand,” returned Captain Ducie,
smiling.”

“Nothing else?—you are certain, sir, that this is the
whole of your errand?”

“I confess to another motive,” rejoined the other, scarce
knowing how to take Captain Truck's question; “but this
one will suffice for the present, I hope.”

“This business requires frankness. I mean nothing disrespectful;
but I am in American waters, and should be
sorry, after all, to be obliged to throw myself on Vattel.”

“Let me act as mediator,” interrupted Sir George Templemore.
“Some one has been a defaulter, Ducie; is it
not so?”

“This is the simple truth; an unfortunate, but silly
young man, of the name of Sandon. He was intrusted
with a large sum of the public money, and has absconded
with quite forty thousand pounds.”

“And this person, you fancy, did me the honour to travel
under my name?”

“Of that we are certain. Mr. Green here,” motioning
to the civilian, “comes from the same office, and traced the
delinquent, under your name, some distance on the Portsmouth
road. When we heard that a Sir George Templemore
had actually embarked in the Montauk, the admiral
made no scruple in sending me after the packet. This has
been an unlucky mistake for me, as it would have been a
feather in the cap of so young a commander to catch the
rogue.”

“You may choose your feather, sir,” returned Captain
Truck, “for you will have a right to wear it. The unfortunate
young man you seek is, out of question, in this
ship.”

Captain Truck now explained that there was a person
below who had been known to him as Sir George Templemore,
and who, doubtless, was the unhappy delinquent
sought. But Captain Ducie did not betray the attention or

satisfaction that one would have expected from this information,
his eye being riveted on Paul, who stood beneath
the hurricane-house. When the latter saw that he attracted
attention he advanced slowly, even reluctantly, upon the
quarter-deck. The meeting between these two gentlemen
was embarrassed, though each maintained his self-possession.

“Mr. Powis, I believe?” said the officer bowing haughtily.

“Captain Ducie, if I am not mistaken?” returned the
other, lifting his hat steadily, though his face became
flushed.

The manner of the two, however, was but little noticed
at the moment, though all heard the words. Captain Truck
drew a long “whe—e—e—w!” for this was rather more
than even he was accustomed to, in the way of masquerades.
His eye was on the two gentlemen as they walked aft together,
and alone, when he felt a touch upon his arm. It
was the little hand of Eve, between whom and the old seaman
there existed a good deal of trifling, blended with the
most entire good-will. The young lady laughed with her
sweet eyes, shook her fair curls, and said mockingly,

“Mr. Sharp, Mr. Blunt; Mr. Blunt, Mr. Sharp!”

“And were you in the secret all this time, my dear young
lady?”

“Every minute of it; from the buoys of Portsmouth to
this very spot.”

“I shall be obliged to introduce my passengers all over
again!”

“Certainly; and I would recommend that each should
show a certificate of baptism, or a passport, before you
announce his or her name.”

“You are, at least, the beautiful Miss Effingham, my dear
young lady?”

“I'll not vouch for that, even,” said Eve, blushing and
laughing.

“That is Mr. John Effingham, I hope!”

“For that I can vouch. There are not two cousin Jacks
on earth.”

“I wish I knew what the other business of this gentleman
is! He seems amicably disposed, except as regards

Mr. Blunt. They looked coldly and suspiciously at each
other.”

Eve thought so too, and she lost all her desire for
pleasantry. Just at this moment Captain Ducie quitted his
companion, both touching their hats distantly, and returned
to the group he had so unceremoniously left a few minutes
before.

“I believe, Captain Truck, you now know my errand,”
he said, “and can say whether you will consent to my
examining the person whom you have mentioned?”

“I know one of your errands, sir; you spoke of having
two.”

“Both will find their completion in this ship, with your
permission.”

“Permission! That sounds well, at least, my dear young
lady. Permit me to inquire, Captain Ducie, has either of
your errands the flavour of tobacco about it?”

The young man looked surprised, and he began to suspect
another mystification.

“The question is so singular that it is not very intelligible.”

“I wish to know, Captain Ducie, if you have anything
to say to this ship in the way of smuggling?”

“Certainly not. I am not a custom-house officer, sir,
nor on the revenue duty; and I had supposed this vessel a
regular packet, whose interest is too plain to enter into
such a pursuit.”

“You have supposed nothing but the truth, sir; though
we cannot always answer for the honesty or discretion of
our people. A single pound of tobacco might forfeit this
noble ship; and, observing the perseverance with which
you have chased me, I was afraid all was not right with
the excise.”

“You have had a needless alarm, then, for my two
objects in coming to America are completely answered by
meeting with Mr. Powis and the Mr. Sandon, who, I have
been given to understand, is in his state-room below.”

The party looked at each other, but nothing was said.

“Such being the facts, Captain Ducie, I beg to offer you
every facility so far as the hospitality of my ship is concerned.”

“You will permit us to have an interview with Mr
Sandon?”

“Beyond a doubt. I see, sir, you have read Vattel, and
understand the rights of neutrals, or of independent nations.
As this interview most probably will be interesting, you
may desire to have it held in private, and a state-room will
be too small for the purpose. My dear young lady, will
you have the complaisance to lend us your cabin for half
an hour?”

Eve bowed assent, and Captain Truck then invited the
two Englishmen below.

“My presence at this interview is of little moment,”
observed Captain Ducie; “Mr. Green is master of the
whole affair, and I have a matter of importance to arrange
with Mr. Powis. If one or two of you gentlemen will have
the kindess to be present, and witnesses of what passes between
Mr. Sandon and Mr. Green, it would be a great
favour. Templemore, I may claim this of you?”

“With all my heart, though it is an unpleasant office to
see guilt exposed. Should I presume too much by asking
Mr. John Effingham to be of our party?”

“I was about to make the same request,” put in the
captain. “We shall then be two Englishmen and two
Yankees,—if Mr. John Effingham will allow me so to style
him?”

“Until we get within the Hook, Captain Truck, I am a
Yankee; once in the country, I belong to the Middle
States, if you will allow me the favour to choose.”

The last speaker was stopped by a nudge from Captain
Truck, who seized an opportunity to whisper,

“Make no such distinction between outside and inside, I
beg of you, my dear sir. I hold that the ship is, at this
identical moment, in the United States of America in a
positive sense, as well as by a legal fiction; and I think
Vattel will bear me out in it.”

“Let it pass for that, then. I will be present at your
interview with the fugitive. If the case is not clear against
him, he shall be protected.”

Things were now soon arranged; it being decided that
Mr. Green, who belonged to one of the English offices, accompanied
by the gentlemen just named, should descend to

the cabin of Miss Effingham, in order to receive the delinquent;
while Captain Ducie should have his interview with
Paul Powis in the state-room of the latter.

The first party went below immediately; but Captain
Ducie remained on deck a minute or two to give an order
to the midshipman of his boat, who immediately quitted the
Montauk, and pulled to the corvette. During this brief
delay Paul approached the ladies, to whom he spoke with a
forced indifference, though it was not possible to avoid
seeing his concern.

His servant, too, was observed watching his movements
with great interest; and when the two gentlemen went
below in company, the man shrugged his shoulders, and
actually held up his hands, as one is wont to do at the occurrence
of any surprising or distressing circumstance.