University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

The young Captain heard the step of his Lieutenant as he came
aft, and instantly altering his position and changing the whole expression
of his countenance, he said to him in a cheerful congratulatory
tone,

“Well, Morris, we have succeeded beyond our hopes! Here
we have beneath us, once more, our tried friend, “The Dancing
Feather,” who is bounding over the waves again as if she knew
her master once more trod her decks.”

“Yes, Carleton, we have achieved a gallant deed, and one becoming
us!” answered Græme. “See how gracefully the pretty
creature carries herself and how merrily she dances to the breeze,”
he added, his eye proudly watching her as she moved swifty
and almost noiselessly through the water. “But, Carleton, we
have on board a—.”

“Yes,” interrupted Carleton, who evidently desired to avoid allusion
to Eve, “no doubt plenty of stores; for I learned that Colonel
Powel had her fitted for a cruise on which he was going to
start to-morrow evening. But I shall have the runs and hold examined
as soon as it is day; and also see how we are ofi for spars,
duck and especially small arms.”

“I have been examining the racks, and find two pairs of horse
pistols, a rifle and two manton guns, with a horn or two of powder
and a case of balls.”

“These with the pistols and side-arms which we brought in the
boat will be of service to help us to more. I find the gun-ports are not
sealed up, as I feared they would have been when converted into
a yacht, and we must somehow manage to find guns for them!
Her former guns are sold and are now dispersed in half-a-dozen
merchant-men.”

“I thought we were to have no passengers, Captain Carleton,”
abruptly spoke Græme, seeing his chief disposed to avoid the
subject of his thoughts.

“I am commander of my own vessel,” answered Carleton, his
haughty and quick spirit breaking out.

“If you are to carry your leman, I will carry mine!” answered
Morris Græme. “When I asked you, that I might decide
what to do with reference to Ellen, you said we were to leave
both! How is it now that I find Eve Innes on board?”

“Morris,” said Carleton in a quiet manner and speaking in a
singularly distinct under tone peculiar to him when much moved,
“I do not wish to have a difference with you, nor will I! Eve,
herself told you in the cabin, for you knew of her presence here
before I did, that she became aware of our intention and anticipated
us!”

“What is your purpose with her?” asked or rather demanded
Morris half crossing the deck and returning.

“I have come to no determination, Morris,” he said more naturally.
“She is resolved to accompany me, and I don't know
how I can avoid it.”

“Easily! The shore is not two hundred fathoms distant, and
the quarter boat hangs from the cranes.”

“I understand you; but I have not made up my mind;” answered
Carleton evidently troubled and undecided. “The truth is,
Morris, I do not want her here, neither do I like to put her on shore.
Her lively presence will relieve the tedium of my cruise and—”

“The truth is, you preconcerted the meeting on board, and she is
here by your appointment. I watched her first meeting with you!
You betrayed by no start of surprise your ignorance of her being on
board! You have deceived me Carleton! Not that I care to have
her here!”

“Upon my life, Morris, I did you no wrong! If you say, send
Eve ashore, I will do so.” And Carleton fixed his gaze upon the
face of his Lietenant and friend with a look as if he feared he
would require the alternative.

Græme paused a moment, and then with a singular expression
darkening his handsome but vice-hardened countenance, he said
dryly,

“I have no wish to dictate to you, Carleton. As she is on board
let her remain. On the whole,” he added suddenly changing his
manner, “I am not sorry to get rid of Ellen, for she has grown
very grasping and bold of late, and I detest anything in a woman
like boldness or want of modesty. She was once a sweet, loving
girl, and I would have married her had I remained in society? for
we were engaged before I was in College.”

“Indeed. I did not know you knew her out of New York!”

“Yes! When she heard I had left College and was in New
York she wrote me that her esteem and love for me were unchangand
that if I would consent, she would fly from her father's roof
and share with me my fortunes!”

“Of course she knew not what those fortunes were?” observed
Carleton, at the same time giving an order aside to the helmsman
to luff a little more to clear a sloop at anchor ahead.

“No,” answered Morris Græme lightly laughing. “She came
and I met her at the hotel! Artless as she was lovely and
devoted as she was imprudent, I received her with rapture, and not
without many tears and reproaches, she became my wedless
bride!”

“She expected you would have married, her, Morris? was it
not so?”

“Or she would never have flown to my arms,” answered the
young man with cool indifference.

“It would have been more manly, Græme,” said Carleton,
“to have shown her her imprudence and sent her in safety
and honor back to the roof she had left in sorrow and dishonor!”

“This is excellent morality, Carleton, coming from your
mouth,” answered the Lieutenant with a sneer on his handsome
lip; “Ellen Innes's love survived mine and my honor, and when
without ascertaining this fact, she threw herself upon me for protection,
she deserved to become what she is! Yet, poor girl, it
well nigh broke her heart, when she found she was not a wife!
But her love was deeper than her resentment, and so that she believed
I loved her, she was happy!”

“Upon my soul! I pity her, and wish she were with you on board,
Morris,” said Carleton with feeling.

“Thank you, Carleton; on the whole I am content to have her
on shore. She has money, and when that is gone she has—
beauty!”

“And would you thus idly cast her upon the world?” said Carleton
quickly.

“Hath a too fondly loving woman ne'er been cast aside before,
that you must look so very virtuous at the thought, Carleton?”

He was silent with the conviction that that very night he would
have acted precisely a similar part towards one who had a still
dearer claim to his continued protection, for Carleton had wooed

and won, and wedded Eve! Yes, Eve Innes was the buccaneer's
bride! his lawful wife! But this is not the place for the narration we
shall yet be called upon to give, touching the strange union of these
two! His conscience smote him at the other's words, and turning
away from him he looked over the side of the vessel making no
reply.

Græme watched him a moment, and then finding him disposed
to remain silent, he walked away towards the fore-part of the vessel
as if to watch a sail that was crossing the bows. “Yes, I see
Carleton loves his little beauty still! It is plain the plan was concerted
which placed her on board! Let him carry her! Perhaps
the charming creature may not be so haughty at sea as on land!
The Gods be thanked, I brought not Ellen, for time is we were
seperated! besides she would be sadly in the way of my proposed
flirtation with Carleton's pretty one! If ever I was fascinated by
a woman, and yet loved her not, it is by this sweet, proud, cold,
vexing enchantress! Thanks, good Captain! The lady may releive
the tedium of the cruise!”

Thus significantly repeating Carleton's words, this bold, daring
and singularly reckless young man, continued to walk the waist
in a thoughtful mood, till the dashing of waters ahead warned him
of the proximity of Hurl-Gate.

Hitherto, the `Dancing Feather' had been easily gliding along the
picturesque shores, moving past silent villas and gardens and lawns
sleeping in the moonlight, meeting at intervals sloops or brigantines
under full canvass stretching away towards the city, or going past
others which were crowding sail sea-ward, or rather Sound-ward.

After said had been once made on her, impelled by the breeze,
she had glided from her moorings before the incredulous and bewildered
gaze of Blanche Hillary, the schooner had kept on her
course, solely under the guidance of the helm. Not a rope had
been pulled, nor the set of the well-ordered canvass altered to this
time. The small crew with which they had boarded her, were
quietly leaning over the bows, or standing in the fore-rigging gazing
at the shores as they glided past. The order and stillness on
board, were such that no person would have suspected she had
half an hour before been taken possession of at her moorings!
But Carleton and Morris Græme, were no ordinary leaders in such
an expedition, as they had so daringly planned and felicitously
executed. Their men, many of whom they had eight months before
commanded the “Dancing Feather,” were picked and known.
They were but twenty in all; but more than enough for working
the schooner, but not the third part of a full compliment, had
she been armed as before her seizure and conversion into a yacht.
The schooner still remained nearly the same as she had been originally
constructed. Her paint had been altered, and she was now perfectly
black, with the exception of a narrow scarlet line, or ribbon,
running along her bead and relieving it. Her canvass was new and
in perfect order; her blocks, rigging, and all her hamper were in
thorough preservation. Every thing drew well, and every rope
was in its place. In fact she had been made in all points fit for sea
by Colonel Powel, and all that was necessary was a crew; which,
however, proved a very different one, from that which he had
probably anticipated. Of the schooner, and her sailing qualities
we have already given a description in the former portion of this
story. Her cabins were now richer than before, being furnished
with every luxury that could contribute to their elegance and
comfort. A library of books—even a harp and guitar, were not
wanting! The latter instrument drew the eye of Eve Innes, as
she descended into the cabin, and taking it up, she struck its chords
like one familiar with the strings. Her voice accompanied one or
two of the careless notes she struck. It was touchingly sweet and
sad—in tender harmony with the sorrow and love's fear that lay
at her heart. She threw it aside a moment after, and leaning her
head upon her gemmed hand, wept long and silently.

Still glided on the “Dancing Feather” past the pleasant shores,
her path over the moonlit waves. Before her suddenly roared the surges
of Hurl Gate! It was not until their loud, near roar struck his
ears, that Carleton was roused to a sense of his responsibility. He
sprung into the main rigging, and looked ahead! On either hand
dark rocks frowned and menaced him, while a whirlpool foamed in
the narrow strait between! He sprang to the helm, and took the
destiny of the vessel in his own hand. Morris Græme was for
ward, standing on the heel of the bow-sprit, and ever and anon, his
clear voice rose above the roar of the mad waves, giving directions
how to steer. Calm and resolute Carleton stood at his post, and
guided her on towards the perilous passage—a passage at that time
less familiar than now to mariners, and greatly dreaded.

“Port a little!” cried Morris, from the heel of the bow-sprit.

“Ay, port!” repeated his commander, who, with the assistance
of one of his men, could hardly govern the schooner, which now
began to jump about in the irregular sea, like some frightened
steed, whom his rider would force into some present and visible
danger, which he vainly plunges on every side to avoid.

“Steady!” sounded the loud, seaman-like voice of Græme.

“Steady it is!” answered Carleton, in an even tone, which he
could just hear.

The Dancing Feather was now in her greatest peril, and truly
did she then earn her appellation. Like a feather she was tossed
upon the convolving, uplifting, far-sinking waves! All was commotion
and imminent danger to life and matter. For a moment
or two the vessel staggered and reeled over, as if fairly conquered
by the waves: and then, while every man expected to see her the
next instant plunge madly into the wild, wrathful bosom of the
maelstrom, she righted herself, gathered new energy, struggled
upward and onward, came to her course, and again obeyed her
helm.

“Bravo! that like to have been her mortal struggle,” cried
Morris; “But the gallant little schooner will [always come atop!
See how she shakes the water from her sides like a Newfoundland
dog! Luff a little! we will soon be out of this infernal place!”

“Luff it is!” answered Carleton in the same] unmoved tone.

“Steady as you are!”

The schooner now altered her course a little, and went flying
like the wind through a narrow strait confined by rocks, between
which, it being ebb tide, the whole body of water raced with as
tonishing velocity. The top-sail collapsed with the rapidity of her
motion and though the wind was high, once flapped against the
fore-topmast, with a loud report. The rocks being left astern,
gradually her speed lessened, and she moved along with the wind
free over smoother water and a more open sea.

“I never passed Hurl Gate with the water so wild,” said Carleton,
as Morris came aft. “I thought at one moment we should
have foundered!”

“It was a narrow escape,” said Morris laughing. “Now that
we are through this passage, let us set every thing that will draw;
and as the wind is north-west she will carry her studden-sails.”

“Let her remain under what sail she has for a while, Morris,'
replied Carleton, walking towards the compannion way. “She
will make nine knots with this breeze, which will place as many
leagues between us and pursuit by morning, as we will want.”

“What are your future plans, Carleton?” asked Morris, as he
saw him descending into the cabin. “What is the schooner's destination?
I received your note that you wanted to meet me in
the Park at eight o'clock, and there only briefly heard from you a
plan to retake our vessel, which for eight months had been out of
our possession. You explained the plan which I consented to, and
obtained the men. The plan has been successful, and once more,
thank the Gods, we are on the broad deep with the “Dancing
Feather” our home. Now, what is our purpose, good Captain?”

“I have not wholly decided what course to pursue, but will do
so soon!”

“Nay, Carleton, have I not as deep an interest in this discision
as yourself. I am willing to yield to your nominal superiority in
command; but as we have both been equally active in re-taking
the schooner, it is but natural we should be equally interested in
her destination.”

“You are, perhaps right, Morris,” answered Carleton, with unexpected
mildness; for few men were more impatient of dictation

or opposition than he. “I was your commander under our former
organization, and when we were scattered the compact was virtually
annulled. I have no right to command the schooner beyond
any that you have, save that but for me, she would now be anchored
before Colonel Powel's villa! With you, Græme,” he said somewhat
sternly, “I want no quarrel.”

“Nor will I quarrel, Carleton. I cheerfully yield to you the
command, but insist on being consulted and advised on any important
occasion. This is certainly one.”

“True, and we will by and by see what we had best resolve on.
I will propose to you my own plan, and hear yours, if you have
any to offer. As it is, we have taken fortune on board, and followed
her, all blinded as she is!”

“Then you have no definite aim in view?” said Morris with
animation.

“No, truly I have not,” answered Carleton with a smile that on
the instant, restored good feeling between the young men.

“Then I have one you will embrace when you hear it.”

“That I will do by and by,” answered Carleton, descending the
stairs to the cabin. “Hold the deck till I come up, Morris, and I
will then muster the men and have the watches properly organized.”

With these words the young captain disappeared to the interview
with Eve.

“Thou hast a gentle treasure there caged, my good Captain,
for so thou may'st be till my own time come! but I will ere long
teach thy pretty bird to peck from other hands save thine. But
let this be for another day and hour. Now let me mature my half
conceived plans.”

Thus speaking he paced the quarter-deck, now with a quick
turn, now with a slower: now stopping full; now moving on and
altogether seeming like a man in excited thought. How beautiful
was the night or rather morning, for it was now three o'clock.—
The moon was in its western field, white and clear as silver, with
which it tipped the bursting waves. The shores on either hand, a
league asunder, were dark and wooded, with here and there a bright
spot indicating the position of some half-embowered villa. Astern
the shores met together in the narrow gorge through which they had
so lately passed, and before them opened the broad waters of the
Sound. They were not alone upon the moonlit wave. Astern,
abeam, ahead, gleamed the white sails of many a fair craft; some
beating toward the city; others crossing their track to some
main-land port; while others stood toward the open Sound on the
same course with the schooner. Near them, just forward of the
beam, sailed a brig, schooner-rigged aft, which had kept ahead
of them since passing Hurl-Gate; but she was now rapidly neared
under the additional impulse of a top-mast studden-sail, which
Morris, observing her speed, had quit his walk to and fro on the
quarter deck to set. He stood near the main rigging with a hand
upon a stay watching her. She was so near that he could distinguish
the helmsman, whose tarpaulin glistened in the moonlight.
Save him he saw no one on her decks. Swiftly and rapidly she
glided over the waters that leaped sportively about her sharp bows
everything drawing free and looking seaman-like. As Morris
watched her and prided himself on the superior sailing of the
schooner, which was fast overhauling the brig, to his surprise, as
if without hands, up rose from her deck a large ball of canvass
which, unfolding itself like a huge bird spreading its wings, d
played the broad surface of a lower studden-sail, which soared to
its boom, and then, pressed outward by the wind, at once took the
rounded shape and fair proportions of the other drawing sails, and
gave a new impetus to the vessel.

“That is no merchantman, or, if so, she is commanded by a man
from the navy!” he said, turning to the helmsman, in whose bushy
red head and peculiarly wicked countenance, no one who had seen
Red Fred at the Brown Jug, would have failed to recognize that
personage.

“So I was thinking, master Morris,” answered Fred, giving a
hitch to his trowsers, changing his tobacco from one cheek into the
other, ejecting a shower of saliva into a spit box at his feet, and
then giving the wheel a turn and a half to windward; “I never
saw a stun' sail set in that man-o'-wa' style, afore, on board a trading
craft. But in my eye, Mr. Græme, she doesn't look so much
like a coaster as she might be! Look at her sheer and cut-water!
and the sweep o' the counter! See the set o' them masts, and
how square her fore yard is, and how d—d a-taunto she looks.
I'm blowed, if I should be surprised to see four ports open in her
sides, and as many bull-dogs run their muzzles out.”

Here Red Fred gave the wheel a half turn back, and brought the
schooner a little more up, for she had fallen off a point during his
remarks upon the brig.

“I believe you are half right, Fred,” said Morris, after looking
again narrowly at her. “One of you hand me my glass from the
beckets,” he said to a group of men who were in the waist leaning
over the schooner's gazing at the brigantine, which was
now about a quarter of a mile to leeward, two points forward of the
beam, and running very free. Her speed had evidently increased
since the studdensail was set, for she was then but a point forward,
or else the schooner had fallen off.

“Have you fallen away any?” he demanded of the helmsman.

“No, sir, not a hair line. She is gaining!”

“So I thought. Bear a hand with my glass, boy.”

This order was addressed to a lad about sixteen years of age,
who, when Græme called for the spy-glass, was standing alone,
leaning against the capstan, a little apart from the men who were
gathered in the waist, and who, on hearing it, sprang for the companion
way. He lingered, probably attracted by some words overheard
from the cabin; but the second stern demand of the lieutenant
was quickly heeded. As the lad handed the glass he quietly
drew back and resumed his former position against the capstan
Morris, adjusting it for night use, levelled the instrument at the
brig. Her decks were at once brought close and distinct to the
sight. He could see the shadow of every rope and spar traced upon
them by the moonlight with beautiful distinctness' at her helm
stood a nearly clad ordinary seaman. No other man was aft, but
the companion doors were open, and a cloak and a book, aye, and
a lady's glove lay upon the weather settee. He carried his glass
slowly forward and saw that the running rigging was neatly coiled,
as on board naval vessels, instead of being hung from pins.—
Forward, under the black shadow of the fore-sail were grouped
several seamen, engaged in watching the schooner, and evidently
interested in outsailing her. He again ranged her decks with his
glass, for her bulwarks were unusually low, and he himself was in
the main rigging of his own vessel, to discover the officer of the
watch. But such a person was no where visible. One object arrested
his attention, and that was a bright brass gun—a nine pounder—on
a carriage opposite the leeward port. He immediately
turned his glass to examine the side near him, to see if he could
discover a fellow-port to it, and detected one. He then ascended
the rigging twenty feet, and again brought his glass to bear upon
the deck, and by this means he overlooked the bulwark and saw
enough of a gun-carriage to assure him that she carried at least two
guns. He now directed his glass to her spars and top-hamper,
and after a brief examination was satisfied that she was an armed
vessel. He was about to withdraw his eye from the lens when it
was arrested by a figure in the fore-top rigging of the brig, which,
on closer inspection, he saw was a man with a spy-glass in his
hand, which was directed down upon the schooner's decks. Morris
kept his glass levelled until he saw the other remove his, when
he tried to get a look at his features! But the other, as it divining
his purpose, and not choosing to gratify his curiosity, turned away
and directed his glass to a sloop on his lee beam. Græme gave
once more a narrow scrutiny of the brig's decks, and then closing
his spy-glass descended to the quarter-deck.

“What do you make her out, Mr. Morris?” inquired Red Fred
with that freedom which their former companionship on shore
somewhat authorized. “She looks suspicious, and in my opinion
means to make our better acquaintance before we part company.”

“If we only had the schooner in her old trim, we might court

the intimacy,” said Morris. “She carries a pair of your bull-dogs,
Fred, and a watch of eight men.”

“That will give her a crew of sixteen, besides cook, and steward,
and captain, and mates,” said Fred. “We are even handed
and four more, if that was all. What do you take her to be, sir?
Hadn't I better keep the schooner away a point and run her closer
aboard, Mr. Morris? I see we have gained on her since the spencer
was set.”

“Yes, keep away a little. I would like to take a nigher view of
her. She is not in the service, for there is no vessel in it of her
description; besides, her armament is not naval. She is more
likely a fancy merchant brig, owned by a dandy captain, or a yacht
from the Provinces.”

“I've seen such craft with your fancy skippers,” said Fred,
throwing the wheel smartly to windward half a dozen spokes and
then checking it. “There was one from Baltimore come into Havana
when I was there, and all the Spanish went to see it. She
was a full-rigged brig, and every thing about her was in apple-pie
style! Her capstan was silver plated, and had silver sockets for
the bars. Her running gear was all of white manilla-grass, and
and every block and dead-eye about her was polished like mahogany.
Her decks were white as snow, and only fit for a fine lady to
walk over. I went into her cabin, and blaze me if I ever saw such
finery in a theatre! The companion-way was carved and ornamented
with silver—the hand-rail was silver—the stair-rods were
silver, and every thing was edged and set with silver. I never
saw any thing so rich! Carpets were laid so thick you could not
hear a step, and such carpets for beauty was never seen by my
eye! The furniture was a little beyond any thing in that country.
It was all bird's eye maple, gilt and silvered. A pianny was where
the transum ought to ha' been, and looking glasses were so plenty
that I could not turn without seeing myself. The state rooms
were large, and furnished off in great style, and the steerage was
as handsome a drawing-room as any body's parlor in York. I
looked round for the captain, expecting, you see, of course to see
a little dapper gentry, half sailor and half green-horn, finackeed off
in long togs and ruffle-shirt risbands. But, shiver my mizzen, if
I wasn't shown as the captain of the craft as well-built, thoroughbred
a seaman from keel to truck as ever I'd wish to lay eyes on.
He was a handsome chap too, and had a keen eye for a pretty lass,
or I am mistaken. He had been a middy, but having had a fortin
left him he got leave for three years, and built himself that
craft, and so sailed about on a blow-any-way cruise, just for pleasure!
This was two years ago, and I dare say he is cruising yet;
and if that chap hadn't a schooner rig aft, I should say it was the
same craft, for I never see two profiles so much alike.”

“I shouldn't be surprised, Fred,” said Morris, again looking at
her, “if she was some such craft as you describe. It would be a
feather in our schooner's cap if we could take her guns out of her,
But we can't do this without guns unless we run her aboard.”

“And that could be easily done, Mr. Morris,” said Fred cooly,
grasping at the same time the lower spoke of the wheel, as if in
readiness to put the schooner away towards her.

“I believe it would,” answered Morris with animation. “But
keep her steady! We sail together now, and there is time enough.
I will speak to Carleton.”

Thus speaking, Morris advanced to the companion-way to make
known the suspicious character of the vessel, while Fred, impatient
to lay alongside and carry out his reckless suggestion, kept
gradually edging the schooner nigher and nigher to the stranger.