 | CHAPTER VII.
THE KEEPER. The cruiser of the mist |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
THE KEEPER.
The afternoon of the day on which the
events related in the foregoing chapter
transpired, a schooner, which had been
sometime seen from the light-house at
Sandy Hook standing in from sea, came
to about a mile from the point, with her
fore-topsail aback.
“That is a rakish-looking craft to be
out when it aint war-time, sir,” said the
keeper of the light, as he surveyed her
from his lantern. “I shouldn't wonder if
she wasn't any better than she should
be!”
This remark was addressed to Randolph
Ledyard, who stood by his side.
This young man, after quitting Olive
Oglethorpe, with whom he had become
angry, because he was miserable himself,
and whom, from the mere wontonness of
a spirit given up to despair, he had accused
of inconstancy, had made his way
to his boat in a state bordering upon
phrenzy. He really believed his suspicions
of Olive and his brother, so readily
does wretchedness give credence to whatever
is likely to make it more wretched;
and under the influence of these emotions
he let his angry feelings have full wing.
He reproached not only her but his brother,
and in the bitterness of his soul accused
him of being a party with his mother to
his own ruin. A secret monition of his
conscience told him he was unjust; but
silencing it with the loud tones of his despair
and grief, he let only his darker emotions
take possession of his bosom.
Thus, by the time he regained his boat,
he had brought to a head in his bosom the
most intense hostility towards Arthur, and
the most bitter resentment against Miss
Oglethorpe. He hoisted his sail and
moved swiftly from the shore. The wind
had by this time chopped round to the
north and west, and to reach the city he
saw he would have to beat all the way,
and that it would take till midnight.
“What matters it where I go now. I
am satisfied of Olive's duplicity, and of my
brother's hypocrisy. What care I what
becomes of me! I may as well fling my
sail to the wind and let it blow me where
it lists! I am reckless, and laugh at reason
and prudence! Come, friendly breeze,
I commit my bark and myself to thee!”
With this wild resolve, he turned the
prow of his boat before the breeze, and
went bounding away over the sparkling
waves in the direction of Sandy Hook and
the open sea.
As he, at length, came abreast of this
point still steering with wilful firmness a
course fair before the wind, which was
blowing him rapidly seaward, he thought
he discovered, some distance to the right,
and in the direction of the shore, the arm
of a man waving above the water. Obeying
the impulse of humanity, he kept away
towards the object, and as he came nigh,
he saw a man struggling amid the waves.
The next moment he was alongside of
him, and drew him into the boat.
It was the light-house keeper. He informed
him, as soon as he was sufficiently
restored to speak, that he had started an
hour before, in a wherry, to go up to Amboy,
when a shark had struck his boat
with such force as to break it in two, and
leave him without other support than his
two oars. From that time he had been
making the best use of his strength to regain
the Hook.
Randolph steered towards the light-house
point with the rescued keeper; and
being urged by him to land and partake
of some refreshment, he had yielded, and
followed him to his house. The consciousness
of having saved a fellow-being's
life, the gratitude of the man and that of
his wife and children, temporarily dissipated
his misanthropy. He felt less bitterness
at heart than before, but with no
less determination to commit his fortunes
to chance.
He had been sometime watching the
schooner ere it came to off the point, and
admiring the grace and swiftness with
which she moved, and the beautiful sym
spars.
"She is certainly very war-like looking,"
answered Randolf to the keeper's
remark. "It is likely she is a government
vessel. You see she has the American
flag flying."
"Yes, I see that , sir; but that craft
isn't Uncle Sam's. I've been a sailor,
and a man-o'-war's-man too, in my time,
and I know a coaster. That are chap, I
reckon, wouldn't lay there quite so bold
and quiet if a government vessel should
happen to heave in sight"
"Why, what do you suspect the schooner
to be?"
"I rather guess she has been a privateers
that the government have been sending
cruisers out against lately?"
Yes, that is my 'pinion if I was axed
it."
"I suppose that all these vessels had
been taken."
All but one, so far as we know," answered
the keeper, with emphasis.
"And what one is that?"
"Why, haven't you heard? Why, they
call her the Mist-ship. The papers is full
of it. Why, you see, sir, the four armed
vessels Uncle Sam sent out after the peace
was 'clared to pick up them chaps as
wouldn't stop their privateerin', (for it's
no better nor piracy, sir, to privateer after
peace is made,) thought they'd got 'em
all, and went back to port again. But
they hadn't been ten days at their moorings
afore in comes a barque to Newport
or Providence, or some place on the Sound,
reportin' as how she'd been boarded and
plundered off Block Island by a armed
schooner with a red stripe; and blast my
timbers if that craft don't look as if she
had one about her bends! I wish I had a
glass to see."
"I think you are right. I am quite
positive she is striped with red, though at
this distance I may imagine it."
"It looks to me 'mazing like a stripe o'
red; but let that be as it may, the schooner
what boarded the barque had such a stripe,
raked amazing, and lay low in the water,
carried eight guns, and was filled with
men!"
"So this seems to be," observed Randolph,
with interest, as he fixed his eyes
keenly upon the stationary vessel which
was the object of their remarks.
"Well, I don't say whether this chap is
the same or not," answered the keeper,
shaking his head very slowly, as if altogether
inclined to believe that it was the
same; "but, howsomnever, as soon as the
skippers of a government brig what was
layin' in Boston harbor, and of a sloop of
eighteen guns, as lay off the Battery up to
town, heard this news, they slips to sea.
The Bostoner doubles Cape Cod, and the
Yorker cuts down the Sound slap through
Hurl Gate!"
"What was the result of their prompt
movements? I remember seeing in one
of the papers, two or three weeks ago, an
account of their departure. But I have
not learned what success they had."
"What success? Why, they fell in
with the schooner and chasedher, but she
got away from 'em in a fog. They then
fell in with her a half dozen times more;
now way up the Sound, now off Cape
Cod, then again under Block Island and
Montauk's Point; but if a fog didn't always
help her get off clear, may I be shot!
I saw one o' the crew o' the sloop when I
was up to Quarantine yesterday, and he
told me it was his gospel belief the schooner
had the devil for first mate, and that he
al'ays called up a fog when the craft
wanted to get out of any scrape. But,
howsomever, he said he would take his
bible oath that the fog smelt strong of
brimstone!"
Randolph smiled, and again directed his
attention towards the light and beautiful
topsail about a mile distant from
the light-house.
“And did these two vessels give up the
chase?”
“Yes. After trying a fortnight to catch
her, the sloop put back for a lighter and
faster craft to take her place, while the
brig remained on the cruising ground.
You see, this schooner of the Mist out-sailed
both, always running three knot to
their two. The fastest schooner Uncle
Sam has got is going to be sent after her,
or else has already put to sea. But, I'll
be willing to swear, that's the vessel they
have been chasin'; and that while they
are poking about in the Sound, and about
Cape Cod, she has danced this way laughing
at them. But there's one objection,
sir, to her bein' the Cruiser of the Mist,”
said the keeper, gravely.
“What is that?”
“The seaman as sailed in the sloop on
her cruise, told me she was never seed
except in a fog, or close aboard of one!”
“Then there is very clear proof that
this is the schooner of the Mist,” said
Randolph, quickly, at the same time smiling
at the coincidence. “Look southwardly,
and tell me whether that is not a
bank of fog advancing along the coast
parallel with it, and extending its wing a
league or more seaward!”
“Blast my eyes, you are right, sir!
There's no mistakin' her now,” answered
the keeper, looking a little superstitious.
“Yet this is not altogether conclusive,”
answered Randolph. “At this season,
fogs prevail every afternoon. It is nothing
remarkable to see this one now.”
“Nothing to see the fog, but something
to see the schooner here, sir. It aint usual
to see such a craft as this in these waters.
I don't believe she'd ha' been here if the
fog want close by. That's my positive
belief.”
“It is certainly very singular,” remarked
Randolph.
He now surveyed the schooner with increasing
interest. The more closely he
observed her, the better satisfied he was
of the truth of the keeper's suspicions.
There was about her an air at once lawless
and daring. Her aspect was thoroughly
bucaniering.
“I wish the sloop-o'-war up to town was
four leagues nearer this craft than she is,”
said the keeper, emphatically. “But I
dare say, if she was, the schooner would
run into the fog-bank to the south'ard, and
get off as she al'ays does.”
“There can be no harm in boarding
her, to see what she is,” said Randolph.
“Boarding her! I'd as lief put my
head into a shark's mouth, as I would
have done, and couldn't help it, if it hadn't
been for you, sir.”
“Have you ever a fisherman's suit?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Tarpaulin, jacket and trowsers, and
all?”
“Yes. But what then, sir?”
“I am resolved to see what this craft
is. I will run nigh her as a fisherman,
in one of the little wherries I see hauled
up on the beach. If I don't return, you
may have my boat for yours, and my
clothes for your fishing suit!”
The keeper regarded him for an instant
with surprise.
“You don't mean to say you would like
to go on board that ere ugly customer?”
“Yes. Lend me your boat and clothes!
If I go as I am, they may regard me as a
spy. As a fisherman I shall excite no
suspicion, and they will not trouble me.”
The keeper at length yielded. Randolph
then wrote a few words upon a
card, and gave it to him, saying he would
repay him for his life that he had saved
by taking it at once over to Colonel Oglethorpe's.
The keeper promised to do so,
affixing it to the lining of his hat.
Randolph was not long in transforming
himself outwardly into a rough-looking
fisherman, for the apparel of the keeper
was of the roughest kind. He darkened
his face and hands with earth-water to
destroy their freshness, and wet his fine
dark locks with sea-water to dishevel and
half an hour after conceiving the idea,
he was in the fishing skiff, with lines
and bait, and pulling out from the light-house,
his course eagerly watched by the
keeper, who admired his courage, while
he trembled for his safety.
The young man, after getting half a
mile from the shore, cast his lines, and
fished for about ten minutes with a professional
deliberation that would have deceived
the most suspecting observer. He
then pulled up his lines, and resuming his
oars, rowed further out, gradually nearing
the schooner, until he came within cable's
length of her, when he began to pull rapidly
past, as if not wishing to remain in her
neighborhood. He saw that she was
crowded with men, and heavily armed.
Although her length was full one hundred
feet, she was not more than five feet out
of the water. She crouched upon the
surface like a watching leopard. He saw
plainly enough now the red stripe which
marked her identity with the schooner
which had plundered the barque. This
discovery confirmed him in his determination not to quit her until he had boarded
her and discovered her true character.
His real motive in thus venturing was
hardly known to himself. It was the
prompting of a restless desire of adventure,
to which his spirit in its present mood
was readily open. He had got just abeam
of the schooner's quarter, when a person
hailed him from her quarter deck.
“Skiff, ahoy!”
“What say?” he answered, in a voice
and manner characteristic of the profession
he assumed.
“Come aboard, I would speak with
you!”
“I am going out fishing, sir!”
“Come alongside, I say, if you don't
want me to send a boat and fetch you,”
repeated the man, in a stern tone.
Randolph desired nothing better than to
comply, and turning the head of his skiff
towards the schooner, he pulled up under
her gangway.
“Come aboard, my man,” said another
officer, who came to the gangway.
Randolph obeyed, and found himself on
the deck of an armed vessel frowning with
batteries, and crowded with men in blue
shirts and white canvass trowsers. On
the quarter deck were two or three men
in uniforms resembling that of the American
navy. The officer who spoke to him
last wore a laced cap and a blue round-about
with the anchor button. He was
not more than seven or eight and twenty,
had a handsome face, and a look of singular
resolution.
“Do you belong on the Hook, my man?”
he asked him, in the decided tone of a
man accustomed to command with peremptory
authority.
“I live above, sir, towards Amboy.”
“So much the better. I suppose you
know the water about here well?”
“Yes, tolerably.”
“Could you pilot my schooner to Amboy
in the night, and thence down between
Staten Island and the Jersey Main
to New York harbor?”
“I should rather not undertake it, sir.
Is this an United States vessel?”
“Don't you see her colors?” answered
the officer, sternly. “Answer me if you
can pilot me!”
“Yes, sir!”
“That is prompt. You are just the
man I want on board. Have you been up
to town within a day or two?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you know if the sloop-of-war Franklin
is in port?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Have you heard of the schooner Wasp
sailing lately?”
“I heard of an armed schooner that left
yesterday down the Sound.”
“Ah, then she is off, as I expected, Ellis,”
said the officer, turning to the officer
who had first hailed Randolph, a young,
hard-featured man, who stood near him.
“We shall have all our own way. But
we will stand up the Bay an hour or so, to
see whether anything is moving above,
run up to Amboy. What we do must be
done to night! Young man, you must be
content to have your boat cast adrift, and
remain on board till morning. I need
your services. Fill away again. We
shan't have to send into the Hook to steal
a pilot, now that heaven has sent us
one!”
The schooner's topsail once more filled
to the wind, and the vessel, with her fore
and main sheet close hauled aft, began to
move up the bay in the direction of the
city. She kept on parallel with the eastern
shores of Staten Island for several
miles, and then the young officer, who was
the commander of the schooner, went aloft
with a glass to survey the harbor. It was
just as the sun was setting. After a little
while he descended to the deck.
“The Franklin lays at her anchor
wholly unsuspicious. We can now have
the whole bay in our own hands,” he said,
to the officer he had called Ellis.
“Shall we tack ship?”
“Yes; put about now, and let us try
and reach the Hook again before the fog
sweeps in from sea. It has been my good
friend on occasion, but I don't care to have
it come upon us before we get up to Amboy.
You look as if you would say something,
fisherman!”
“I was about to ask if this is not the
vessel that the Franklin has been cruising
after?”
“Well, suppose it is, what then? You
would refuse to pilot us, I suppose. But
if you love life you will do as you are
bid!”
“No, I should the more gladly pilot her.
I have heard of your skill in escaping
your pursuers, and I admire your courage!”
“The devil you do! So, you are a good
friend to us, then?”
“You could never find better. To tell
you the truth, I knew what you were before
I left the shore, and pulled off to you
to join your vessel!”
“Ah, this is a good fellow, after all,”
said the officer, laughing, and turning to
his juniors on the deck. “So we are safe
in trusting him.”
“You can trust me with safety, sir!”
“I am glad of it. The service I am on
is—but come into my cabin, I have a question
or so to ask you about those who
dwell in this region.”
Randolph followed him into the cabin.
He had conceived a suspicion, from some
words that were dropped by the other officers,
that the schooner was bound on a
freebooting expedition up Raritan Bay,
and that some villa was particularly the
object of plunder. He thought that Lenafe
Manor and Colonel Oglethorpe's house
might be the end of the expedition, and he
resolved, if tact and art could do it, to possess
himself of the confidence of the commander
and get the secret.
| CHAPTER VII.
THE KEEPER. The cruiser of the mist | |