University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.
THE LOVERS.

`The young American' continued Clara Forrest, `finding he could
not recover his vessel then, and being not many leaguas from Macaeo
resolved to put into port, get rid of his prisoners, and refitting the proa
go in pursuit of his lost schooner and try to acchieve her re-capture.—
He was gladly aided by the aathorities in getting the proa ready for
sea, who immediately sent persons on board to put her in a complete
condition!'

`But what became of the terrible pirate Lef, and also of the young
American,' asked her inquisitive auditor.

`When my elderly friend had given me all the information he had
obtained upon the subject of the capture, he began to speak to me in
high terms of the courage and gallantry shown by the young Captain of
the Privateer, whom he represented as a mere youth and very handsome!'

`It was Freemantle, I am sure,' said Mary Hood with great emphasis.

Miss Forrest made no reply but smiling archly resumed her narration;

`When I heard this I told my good friend that he must oblige me
with two things; first that I must see the redoubtable Lef; and second
I must see his no less redoubtable captor.

`As to Lef.' said my friend, `he is now in prison and in chains, and
tomorrow will be brought forth for trial if his wounds are not too severe.
You shall see him this evening, if you will take your palanquin to the
prison and be satisfied to see him through the grate!'

`How could you wish to gaze upon the horrid creature?' said Mary
with an expression and tone of mingled fear and distaste.

`I did not see him, Mary; for when I learned he was wounded and
in chains, I cared not to. I had hoped to have seen a tall, fiercd
commanding looking savage, casting glances of defiance upon all
who gazed upon him! But lying wounded and in chains he would
have excited my pity rather than my admiration, so I told my good friend
I would give up seeing the capture if I could behold the captor.

`This I pledge myself you shall do,' said he. `I will with your
leave bring him here this very afternoon.'

`No, said I, that will not do. You forgot I am not the proper person
to entertain a young gentleman! I merely wish to see him by accident
as it were!'

`Then you see him now by accident as it were,' he said to me with
a look of surprise, as his eye turned upon two persons whom, at the
same instant, I saw advancing along one of the avenues of the garden
leading from the town-side, preceded by one of my slaves. One of
them I recognised as an American merchant, the other was a stranger;
but my friend's words led me to suspect who it might be.

They advanced towards me. I was taken by surprise and I know
must have looked very much confused.

`Miss Forrest,' said the merchant, `allow me to present to you,
Captain Norman who has just brought into the harbor the noted free-footer
Lef a captive in his own vessel! I was going with him to the
house of the English Consul and on my way I have taken the liberty to
present him to one who may call herself his countrywomen!'

`I am most happy to see Captain Normon,' I said, but very greatly
embarrassed; for from the moment my eyes had met those of the young
stranger my regard was returned with a look so full of surprise, admiration
and deference that I dared not a second time raise my glance to
his face.'

`Was it love at first sight, Clara?' asked Miss Hood smiling.

`I may as well confess at once. I was interested instantly in him,
and experienced from his gaze emotions hitherto entirely new to me.
He must have partaken of similar sensations, for he replied in a tone
that was slightly tremulous.'

`What did he say?'

`I have no recollections, I heard only his voice, but was too much
embarrassed to heed his words!'

`But was it not Freemantle, Clara?'

`Yes!'

`I thought so! I was sure of it! but why did he call himself Capain
Norman?'

`Because he knew that there was in port a British Frigate which
had once chased him as Freemantle in the British Cannel; and which
he had escaped from by shooting away his fore-top-mast. He, therefore,
on entering the harbor concealed his true name, assuming only
his first one. And to this day he is only spoken off there as Norman,
the Privateersman. No one knows him as Freemantle! At that
period there were American privateer-schooners cruising in the Indies!'

`But did he not fear being taken by the English frigate as it was?'

`No. He knew that his services as the captor of Lef would protect
him from any such danger. Besides he did not come in in his own vessel
and under his own flag. But, nevertheless in going out again, he
feared if he should be known to be Freemantle, the frigate might sail
after him, while an unknown American by the name of Norman they
would suffer to pass unmolested in consideration of his services!'

`I understand it now!'

`The interview between Norman and myself lasted but five minutes
when the merchant departed with him. But if was a five minutes in
which was condensed the happiness of a life. I had invited him to return
to tea with the merchant and my elderly friend, and he promised
to do so.

He came. The moments were winged in his presence. We promenaded
the verandah leaving the two gentlemen over their sherbet and
hookahs. He talked to me of America. He discoursed to me of the
sea and his love! He recounted the dangers he had passed through,
by storm and battle. We wandered into the gardens. The starry sky
was over us, and the pleasant evening breeze was fragrant with the

breath of flowers. We loitered on till we forgot there was any other
world than that of love. He told me the history of his life! He ended
by opening to me that of his heart. How eloqueutly did he discourse
of love. Not a word he breathed into my charmed ear that found not
an answering chord in my heart, You have seen him, Mary! You
have heard him speak!'

The young girl sighed as she answered, with trembling accents.

`Yes.'

`Do not marvel then that I yielded my spirit up a willing captive to
his eloquence. Ere we had returned to the verandah, he had declared
his deep passion.'

`And could you credit, dear Clara the existence of a true-hearted
love, formed in such a brief space of time?'

`Why should I have doubted when I found in my own heart a passion
that echoed his? I believed because I also loved!'

`Love is so very strange,' remarked the maiden, with a deep sigh.

`It is very strange, Mary, and I dare say you can say it is from your
own experience. But I will not cause you to blush, though you look so
lovely with a little more rose in your cheeks. I will go on with my
own loves. The ensuing morning as I was alone in a room that opened
into the garden singing to my lute, but with my thoughts upon the
young stranger whose name was on every tongue, he suddenly appeared
before me, and apologizing with a smile, for his intrusion, paid me
some compliments upon my singing, and asked me to repeat the song
for him. I did so. He joined in, with his deep, rich voice, and thus
in singing and conversation the hours fled. Thus day after day passed
for a week. Each morning—each evening he was in my presence
breathing vows of love and devotion. At length the hour came for
his departure. He came to take his leave of me. It was then I began
truly to feel how dear he had became. We parted in tears and
vows of constancy. He promised to return so soon as he could re-capture
his schooner, and once more give me his society; but in the interval
he said he should visit Canton if possible to get my father to assent
to our union!'

`And you would have married an unknown stranger, Clara.'

`He was not unknown. He had unfolded to me all his life from
boyhood! I knew him as if I had known him all my life. He opened
to me his heart and I beheld its truth! He unveiled to me the excellencies
of his mind and I saw how noble his intellect was! No, Clara,
he was far from being a stranger to me! Married him do you ask!—
Did I not marry him?'

`How, and where?'

`You shall hear! He departed. I saw him stand upon the deck of
his proa and wave to me his hand in adieu! I answered it, though
blinded with tears I could scarcely distinguish him. I followed the receding
vessel till its white sails faded into the blue mist of the horizon.'

`He had been gone twelve days when intelligence reached me that
my father was lying dangerously ill at Canton. My devotion to my father
was even superior to that of the new love, which during his absence
had been born in my heart. My grief at not being able to be
with him to nurse him almost maddened me. If I could have got any

captain to have taken me up the river it would have been death to have
been discovered there. But no captain would have received me on
board. In doing so he would risk the loss of his vessel. You may conceive
of my distress, dear Mary! My father lying ill but a day or two's
sail distance, and I, his only child, forbidden, by absurd laws, to soothe
his sufferings. The next day an English ship came in from the river
and not only confirmed the report brought by the first, but brought intelligence
that my dear father was much worse; and that the physician
at the Hong being also ill he had only the attendance of the native doctors,
whose treatment of fevers and all diseases is most barbarous. My
anxiety and grief combined with my indignation at the foolish regulations
which kept me away from him, nearly overthrew my reason. One
event alone saved it from wreck.'

`What was this, Clara?'

`The return of Norman! On the evening of the third day after I
got news of my father's situation he came into the harbor in his own
schooner under American colors. There was no English vessels of
war in port then and he knew he could enter with impunity.'

`And he had re-captured his vessel.'

`Yes, after a most severe conflict, and after the performance of
deeds of courage that are unparalelled. To relate to you the events of
the enterprize as he afterwards detailed them to me, Clara, would `fill a
volume' as the novel-writers say. I was first aware of his return by an
exclamation of one of the slaves who uttered his name in a loud tone.
I was at the moment reclining upon my divan in a state of exhaustion
from weeping. I rose with an electric thrill, and beheld him smiling
upon me. Regardless of the presence of the slaves I threw myself into
his arms! With the sight of him rose instantaneously an idea bright
with hope.'

`I told him of my father's situation and my deep grief, and my wish
to be near him.'

`I cannot go, Norman,' I cried, `but you can! Hasten to him!—
Watch over him! Be all to him that I would be.'

`And he went?' earnestly asked her lovely listener.

`You shall hear,' she answered, with an impressive cadence in her
voice, `and be prepared to be surprised, my dear cousin, more than at
any thing you have yet heard me relate.