University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.

Coriolanus.

Eve and Mademoiselle Viefville had been unwilling
spectators of a portion of the foregoing scene, and Captain
Ducie felt a desire to apologise for the part he had been
obliged to act in it. For this purpose he had begged his
friend the baronet to solicit a more regular introduction
than that received through Captain Truck.

“My friend Ducie is solicitous to be introduced, Miss
Effingham, that he may urge something in his own behalf
concerning the commotion he has raised among us.”

A graceful assent brought the young commander forward,
and as soon as he was named he made a very suitable
expression of his regret to the ladies, who received it,
as a matter of course, favourably.

“This is a new duty to me, the arrest of criminals,”
added Captain Ducie.

The word criminals sounded harsh to the ear of Eve,
and she felt her cheek becoming pale.

“Much as we regret the cause,” observed the father,
“we can spare the person you are about to take from us
without much pain; for we have known him for an impostor
from the moment he appeared.—Is there not some mistake?
That is the third trunk that I have seen passed
into the boat marked P. P.”

Captain Ducie smiled, and answered,—

“You will call it a bad pun if I say P. P. see,” pointing
to Paul, who was coming from the cabin attended by Captain
Truck. The latter was conversing warmly, gesticulating
towards the corvette, and squeezing his companion's hand.

“Am I to understand,” said Mr. Effingham earnestly,
“that Mr. Powis, too, is to quit us?”

“He does me the favour, also,”—Captain Ducie's lip
curled a little at the word favour,—“to accompany me to
England.”

Good breeding and intense feeling caused a profound silence,
until the young man himself approached the party.
Paul endeavoured to be calm, and he even forced a smile as
he addressed his friends.

“Although I escape the honours of a marine guard,” he
said,—and Eve thought he said it bitterly, “I am also to be
taken out of the ship. Chance has several times thrown me
into your society, Mr. Effingham—Miss Effingham—and,
should the same good fortune ever again occur, I hope I
may be permitted to address you at once as an old acquaintance.

“We shall always entertain a most grateful recollection
of your important services, Mr. Powis,” returned the father;
“and I shall not cease to wish that the day may soon arrive
when I can have the pleasure of receiving you under
my own roof.”

Paul now offered to take the hand of Mademoiselle Viefville,
which he kissed gallantly. He did the same with
Eve's, though she felt him tremble in the attempt. As these
ladies had lived much in countries in which this graceful
mode of salutation prevails among intimates, the act passed
as a matter of course.

With Sir George Templemore, Paul parted with every
sign of good-will. The people, to whom he had caused a
liberal donation to be made, gave him three cheers, for they
understood his professional merits at least; and Saunders,
who had not been forgotten, attended him assiduously to
the side of the ship. Here Mr. Leach called, “the Foam's
away!” and Captain Ducie's gig was manned. At the
gangway Captain Truck again shook Paul cordially by the
hand, and whispered something in his ear.

Every thing being now ready, the two gentlemen prepared
to go into the boat. As Eve watched all that passed
with an almost breathless anxiety, a little ceremonial that
now took place caused her much pain. Hitherto the manner
of Captain Ducie, as respected his companion, had
struck her as equivocal. At times it was haughty and distant,
while at others it had appeared more conciliatory and
kind. All these little changes she had noted with a jealous
interest, and the slightest appearance of respect or of disrespect
was remarked, as if it could furnish a clew to the
mystery of the whole procedure.

“Your boat is ready, sir,” said Mr. Leach, stepping out
of the gangway to give way to Paul, who stood nearest to
the ladder.

The latter was about to proceed, when he was touched
lightly on the shoulder by Captain Ducie, who smiled, Eve
thought haughtily, and intimated a desire to precede him.
Paul coloured, bowed, and falling back, permitted the English
officer to enter his own boat first.

“Apparemment ce captaine Anglais est un peu sans fa
çon—Voilà qui est poli!” whispered Mademoiselle Viefville.

“These commanders of vessels of war are little kings,”
quietly observed Mr. Effingham, who had unavoidably noticed
the whole procedure.

The gig was soon clear of the ship, and both the gentlemen
repeated their adieus to those on deck. To reach the
corvette, to enter her, and to have the gig swinging on her
quarter occupied but five minutes.

Both ships now filled away, and the corvette began to
throw out one sheet of cloth after another until she was
under a cloud of canvas, again standing to the eastward
with studding-sails alow and aloft. On the other
hand, the Montauk laid her yards square, and ran down to
the Hook. The pilot from the corvette had been sent on
board the packet, and, the wind standing, by eleven o'clock
the latter had crossed the bar. At this moment the low
dark stern of the Foam resembled a small black spot on
the sea sustaining a pyramid of cloud.

“You were not on deck, John, to take leave of our young
friend Powis,” said Mr. Effingham, reproachfully.

“I do not wish to witness a ceremony of this extraordinary
nature. And yet it might have been better if I had.”

“Better, cousin Jack!”

“Better. Poor Monday committed to my care certain
papers that, I fancy, are of moment to some one, and these
I intrusted to Mr. Powis, with a view to examine them
together when we should get in. In the hurry of parting, he
has carried them off.”

“They may be reclaimed by writing to London,” said
Mr. Effingham quietly. “Have you his address?”

“I asked him for it; but the question appeared to embarrass
him.”

“Embarrass, cousin Jack!”

“Embarrass, Miss Effingham.”

The subject was now dropped by common consent. A
few moments of awkward silence succeeded, when the interest
inseparable from a return home, after an absence of
years, began to resume its influence, and objects on the land
were noticed. The sudden departure of Paul was not forgotten,
however; for it continued the subject of wonder with
all for weeks, though little more was said on the subject.

The ship was soon abreast of the Hook, which Eve compared,
to the disadvantage of the celebrated American haven,
with the rocky promontories and picturesque towers of the
Mediterranean.

“This portion of our bay, at least, is not very admirable,”
she said, “though there is a promise of something
better above.”

“Some New-York cockney, who has wandered from the
crackling heat of his Nott stove, has taken it into his poetical
imagination to liken this bay to that of Naples,” said
John Effingham; “and his fellow-citizens greedily swallow
the absurdity, although there is scarcely a single feature in
common to give the foolish opinion value.”

“But the bay above is beautiful!”

“Barely pretty: when one has seen it alone, for many
years, and has forgotten the features of other bays, it does
not appear amiss; but you, fresh from the bolder landscapes
of Southern Europe, will be disappointed.”

Eve, an ardent admirer of nature, heard this with regret,
for she had as much confidence in the taste of her kinsman
as in his love of truth. She knew he was superior to the
vulgar vanity of giving an undue merit to a thing because
he had a right of property in it; was a man of the world,
and knew what he uttered on all such matters; had not a
particle of provincial admiration or of provincial weakness
in his composition; and, although as ready as another, and
far more able than most, to defend his country and her institutions
from the rude assault of her revilers, that he seldom
made the capital mistake of attempting to defend a weak
point.

The scenery greatly improved, in fact, however, as the
ship advanced; and while she went through the pass called
the Narrows, Eve expressed her delight. Mademoiselle Viefville
was in ecstasies, not so much with the beauties of the
place as with the change from the monotony of the ocean to
the movement and liveliness of the shore.

“You think this noble scenery?” said John Effingham.

“As far from it as possible, cousin Jack. I see much
meanness and poverty in the view, but at the same time it
has fine parts. The islands are not Italian, certainly; nor
these hills, nor yet that line of distant rocks; but, together,
they form a pretty bay, and a noble one in extent and uses
at least.”

“All this is true. Perhaps the earth does not contain
another port with so many advantages for commerce. In
this respect I think it positively unequalled; but I know a
hundred bays that surpass it in beauty. Indeed in the
Mediterranean it is not easy to find a natural haven that
does not.”

Eve was too fresh from the gorgeous coast of Italy to be
in ecstasies with the meagre villages and villas that, more
or less, lined the bay of New-York; but when they reached
a point where the view of the two rivers, separated by
the town, came before them, with the heights of Brooklyn,
heights comparatively if not positively, on one side, and the
receding wall of the palisadoes on the other, Eve insisted
that the scene was positively fine.

“You have well chosen your spot,” said John Effingham;
“but even this is barely good. There is nothing surpassing
about it.”

“But it is home, cousin Jack.”

“It is home, Miss Effingham,” he answered, gaping;
“and as you have no cargo to sell, I fear you will find it
an exceedingly dull one.”

“We shall see—we shall see,” returned Eve, laughing.
Then, looking about her for a few minutes, she added with
a manner in which real and affected vexation were prettily
blended, “In one thing I do confess myself disappointed.”

“You will be happy, my dear, if it be in only one.”

“These smaller vessels are less picturesque than those
I have been accustomed to see.”

“You have hit upon a very sound criticism, and, by going
a little deeper into the subject, you will discover a singular
deficiency in this part of an American landscape.
The great height of the spars of all the smaller vessels of
these waters, when compared with the tame and level coast,
river banks, and the formation of the country in general,
has the effect to diminish still more the outlines of any particular
scene. Beautiful as it is, beyond all competition, the
Hudson would seem still more so, were it not for these high
and ungainly spars.”

The pilot now began to shorten sail, and the ship drew
into that arm of the sea which, by a misnomer peculiarly
American, it is the fashion to call the East River. Here
our heroine candidly expressed her disappointment, the
town seeming mean and insignificant. The Battery, of
which she remembered a little, and had heard so much, although
beautifully placed, disappointed her, for it had neither
the extent and magnificence of a park, nor the embellishments
and luxurious shades of a garden. As she had been
told that her countrymen were almost ignorant of the art
of landscape gardening, she was not so much disappointed
with this spot, however, as with the air of the town, and
the extreme filth and poverty of the quays. Unwilling to
encourage John Effingham in his diposition to censure, she
concealed her opinions for a time.

“There is less improvement here than even I expected,”
said Mr. Effingham, as they got into a coach on the wharf.
“They had taught me, John, to expect great improvements.”

“And great, very great improvements have been made
in your absence. If you could see this place as you knew
it in youth, the alterations would seem marvellous.”

“I cannot admit this. With Eve, I think the place mean
in appearance, rather than imposing, and so decidedly provincial
as not to possess a single feature of a capital.”

“The two things are not irreconcilable, Ned, if you will
take the trouble to tax your memory. The place is mean
and provincial; but thirty years since it was still meaner
and more provincial than it is to-day. A century hence it
will begin to resemble a large European town.”

“What odious objects these posts are!” cried Eve.

“They give the streets the air of a village, and I do not
see their uses.”

“These posts are for awnings, and of themselves they
prove the peculiar country character of the place. If you
will reflect, however, you will see it could not well be otherwise.
This town to-day contains near three-hundred thousand
souls, two-thirds of whom are in truth emigrants from
the interior of our own, or of some foreign country; and
such a collection of people cannot in a day give a town any
other character than that which belongs to themselves. It is
not a crime to be provincial and rustic; it is only ridiculous
to fancy yourselves otherwise, when the fact is apparent.”

“The streets seem deserted. I had thought New York a
crowded town.”

“And yet this is Broadway, a street that every American
will tell you is so crowded as to render respiration impossible.”

“John Effingham excepted,” said Mr. Effingham smiling.

“Is this Broadway?” cried Eve, fairly appalled.

“Beyond a question. Are you not smothered?”

Eve continued silent until the carriage reached the door of
her father's house. On the other hand, Mademoiselle Viefville
expressed herself delighted with all she saw, a circumstance
that might have deceived a native of the country,
who did not know how to explain her raptures. In the first
place she was a Frenchwoman, and accustomed to say pleasant
things; then she was just relieved from an element she
detested, and the land was pleasant in her eyes. But the
principal reason is still in reserve: Mademoiselle Viefville,
like most Europeans, had regarded America not merely as
a provincial country, and this without a high standard of civilization
for a province, as the truth would have shown, but
as a semi-barbarous quarter of the world; and the things
she saw so much surpassed her expectations, that she was
delighted, as it might be, by contrast.

As we shall have a future occasion to speak of the dwelling
of Mr. Effingham, and to accompany the reader much
further in the histories of our several characters, we shall
pass over the feelings of Eve when fairly established that
night under her own roof. The next morning, however,
when she descended to breakfast, she was met by John

Effingham, who gravely pointed to the following paragraph
in one of the daily journals.

“The Montauk, London packet, which has been a little
out of time, arrived yesterday, as reported in our marine
news. This ship has met with various interesting adventures,
that, we are happy to hear, will shortly be laid before
the world by one of her passengers, a gentleman every way
qualified for the task. Among the distinguished persons arrived
in this ship is our contemporary, Steadfast Dodge, Esquire,
whose amusing and instructing letters from Europe
are already before the world.—We are glad to hear that Mr.
Dodge returns home better satisfied than ever with his own
country, which he declares to be quite good enough for him.
It is whispered that our literary friend has played a conspicuous
part in some recent events on the coast of Africa,
though his extreme and well known modesty renders him indisposed
to speak of the affair; but we forbear ourselves,
out of respect to a sensibility that we know how to esteem!

“His Britannic Majesty's ship, Foam, whose arrival we
noticed a day or two since, boarded the Montauk off the
Hook, and took out of her two criminals, one of whom, we
are told, was a defaulter for one hundred and forty thousand
pounds, and the other a deserter from the king's service,
though a scion of a noble house. More of this to-morrow.”

The morrow never came, for some new incident took the
place of the premised narration. A people who do not give
themselves time to eat, and with whom “go ahead” has
got to be the substitute of even religion, little troubling
themselves to go back twenty-four hours in search of a
fact.

“This must be a base falsehood, cousin Jack,” said Eve,
as she laid down the paper, her brow flushed with an indignation
that, for the moment, proved too strong for even apprehension.

“I hope it may turn out to be so, and yet I consider the
affair sufficiently singular to render suspicion at least natural.”

How Eve both thought and acted in the matter, will appear
hereafter.