University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.
THE SEA-VIEW.

The scenes of the following story are laid about the beautiful shores and
among the pleasant islands of Boston Bay, near the close of the last war with
Great Britain. This contest, it will be remembered, was remarkably characterised
for the great number, boldness and success of the privateers which
sailed out of the New England ports and covered every sea whitened by British
commerce.

It was a warm, summery afternoon in the month of September and towards
its close, in the year 1814, that a group composed of four individuals were
standing in a cupola upon the top of one of the tasteful country seats that now,
as well as at that period, graced the green borders of the Bay of Islands. They
were looking earnestly towards the sea, which was in full view from their position,
its blue waves indeed coming within a hundred rods of the grounds
where they unfolded their shining volumes upon a belt of white sand that for
a league stretched in a graceful curve to the southward.

Two of the party had spy-glasses which they looked through long and
closely while the others hung breathless upon the report they, from time to time,
gave, while with unaided vision they sought to make out the movements of
three vessels in the offing and full six miles distant, which were the objects at
which the glasses were so steadily levelled. The lawn in front of the villa also
contained a group of spectators, principally servants, male and female, gardners
and farmers, who were no less interested in watching the movements seaward,
and were by no means backward in their expressions of doubts, hope,
fears and other emotions, which the sight of these vessels seemed to produce
in one and all of them. On a small elevation half a mile north of the dwelling
was also gathered a cluster of country-people, and where the trees that surrounded
the other country seats along this pleasant winding portion of the bay
would permit a sight of them to be obtained, it could be seen that their roofs
and piazzas and the eminences in their grounds contained lookers-out upon
the sea.

Suddenly a wreath of pale blue smoke shot horizontally from the larger of
the three vessels, whose movements seemed to be the centre of such general
regard. A quarter of a minute elapsed during which a deep silence fell upon
the expectant, listening, breathless groups taking place of the loud murmurs
and exclamations of surprise which the sight of the smoke had called forth
from every lip. Then came dull but distinct to every ear the explosion of a
cannon!

Some two or three of those in front of the villa on hearing this ominous
sound, retreated with pale faces towards the house, and one fellow in a blue
frock and a cart-whip in his hand took up a safe position behind the trunk of

the large oak under which they were all standing. Some of the bolder fellows
laughed at this fear, and the gardner, a thin faced Scotchman with red hair,
leaning on his spade said deliberately, and with a sneer of contempt,

`Hoot, an' awa' mon! an is it ye'll fear the shot o' the ships guns 'll be
comin sax miles to ken if yer head ha' ony brains i' the side o' it?

`But they mout hit a faller, Mackey,' answered the clown blushing, but still
keeping his place; `there's no tellin' how far them cannon ball can go nor
what they may do! It's always best to look out when them are kind o' parch'
corn be hoppin' about.'

`You are a fool, John,' answered a man who had a tarpaulin on his head but
otherwise was dressed like the farmer's men of the party. `A cannon ball such
as that are frigate or corvette or what not she is, fires, could'nt go more nor
three mile with the best powder they could load her guns with. I ought to'
know somethin' bout sich matters, coz we was, you know, chased into Boston
harbor by one o' the Britisher's brigs, when I was in skipper Bill's fishin
smack! That was a chase, and we sailed jest like a gul; and skipper and I
and the two boys was all the time at work keepin' the sails wet, and we got
inside o' the light and snapped our fingers at 'em, darn 'em!' Here the man
of such vast experience snapped his fingers and looked round for applause, and
then gave a short laugh with a glance around, to show his contempt of all the
green bunkers present.

The firing of the gun had produced a startling sensation also in the group
upon the roof. It was composed of an elderly gentleman of a very dignified
appearance, who wore an undress military frock, with the sleeve for the left
arm pinned up to his shoulders, for he had lost the arm not many months before
in the battle of Plattsburg. He was about forty-eight years of age and
had one of those faces like Washington's, which express, in so remarkable a
degree, firmness, dignity and courage. He was holding out the glass with one
arm, while a beautiful girl of eighteen, who resembled him, was assisting him
in supporting it. The person with the other spy-glass in his hand was a young
man of fine appearance, about four or five and twenty, and from his strong
likeness to the young lady, was her brother. His dress was that of a citizen,
and from his appearance he was a student, perhaps either of medicine or law,
or perhaps of divinity. His face was strongly marked with intelligence and
an expression of grave mildness characterised it. He looked like a person of
books and retirement; and one little likely to mingle in the scenes of the war;
though his countenance indicated firmness and courage if called into action.
The fourth person was also a young man, and a year or two older than the one
we have described. His appearance was also very different and dissimilar.—
He wore the naval button upon his coat though now he had no claim to this
distinction, having been three months before dismissed from the navy for having
left his ship to visit this place where we now find him, and to see the very
maiden in whose presence he now was. She was his cousin, and he had long
been deeply enamored with her, and consent had been given by the father—
though not by the brother—to their betrothal a year before; but as the young
officer had acquired free habits in the naval stations abroad and lost much of
that purity of character upon which had been based both her consent and that
of Colonel Hood her father, her brother, Henry Hood, had written him that
the consent of his betrothal to his sister `had been withdrawn!' This announcement,
which he received when his ship lay at Newport, had the effect
of awakening all his resentment against the writer of the note, whom he conceived
the instigator of this change of determination, and believing that she
had been overruled in her feelings by him, he resolved to see her and ascertain
the truth from her own lips. Notwithstanding his ship was about to sail
to meet a frigate of the enemy that had been hovering off the mouth of the bay, he
was too much under the influence of his feelings to delay, and being refused leave
of absence, he secretly left the ship under cover of night and swam to the little
island off the town, near which the American frigate lay, and thence in a
small fishing skiff reached the main land. He immediately proceeded across

the conntry to `Seaview Manor,' the seat of Colonel Hood, and presented himself
suddenly before the family. As Colonel Hood was his guardian as well
as his uncle and that was, therefore, his home when on shore, his presence was
not surprising to them; though when Colonel Hood learned that the letter he
had received from Henry had brought him there, and that he had left the ship
for the purpose, just as she was about to sail on a cruise, his displeasure was
very strongly expressed. Hebert Vincent found his fair cousin received him
with very marked coldness, but that Henry's manner was precisely as ever,
quiet and friendly, as if no note had been written. The young officer did not
tell them that he had deserted his ship; and as he expressed much contrition
to his uncle and made firm resolutions of amending his life, he was received
and entertained with kindness. He had not been at home many days, however,
ere he was satisfied that Mary Hood still loved him; and he received a
promise from her own lips that if he would renew that integrity and worth of
character which he had tarnished by his vices she might yet one day reward
him with her hand.

Hardly, however, had this confession and sweet hope been held out to the
gay young man, than Colonel Hood entered holding the Boston Centinel in his
hand, and with an indignant countenance handed it to Hebert.

`See that, sir! Is this the way you disgrace your country, your family,
yourself!'

The young officer glanced at the paragraph indicated and read as follows:—

The disgraced young man's cheek became deadly pale as he read it, while
his uncle watched his face closely. He had not anticipated this, and the full
force of his imprudence rushed upon him; for although he was inclined to dissipation,
he was by no means insensible to the honorable sentiments becoming
his rank as a gentleman and an officer; nay, it was his quick sensitiveness on
these points that had led him so impulsively to hasten to do away the prejudice
against him and seek restoration to the favor of her he loved. He now saw
the consequences of his precipitation, and the sense of his fallen position stung
him to the quick. He saw, however, with a self-possession and readiness of
action characteristic, that it was now too late to retrieve the past. He therefore
resolved to meet it coolly.

`You see, Mary, what I have incurred by my desire to know the truth
whether you had really cast me off as well as my uncle and cousin!' he said,
handing her the paper.

She read it with a colorless cheek and with a shriek that told how deeply
her heart had been interested in one who had proved unworthy, she fell insensible
into her father's arms. Finding that there was at present no opportunity
for recounciliation with his uncle the young officer abruptly left the
house, but bearing with him the secret assurance in his heart that his cousin
devotedly loved him; and that yet fortune might favor him in spite of the opposition
of her father and brother. In a few days he wrote a letter to his uncle
from Boston, in which he regretted his conduct and renounced all claim to the
hand of his cousin, and trusted that he should be permitted to visit the family
on the terms of a friend. He at the same time desired that his property, which
was considerable, and which for three or four years he had entrusted to his
uncle's care might be conveyed into his own possession, as he should now devote
himself to its increase in some profitable avocation.

This letter was successful. Hebert after an absence of a month was suffered
to return, and he had from that time, though keeping his rooms in town,
been a frequent guest at Seaview; though he never met his lovely cousin except
in the presence of her father or brother; but her pale cheek, her embarrassed
silence, told him too well the deep hold he still held upon her affections.

He had, moreover, he believed ingratiated himself into her esteem as well as
holding her affections by a letter he had privately addressed to her which she
had never returned to him; in which he defended his desertion from his ship
on the ground of his deep and ardent love for her, which was paramount to
every other consideration. He used arguments of the most ingenious sophistry
to exculpate his conduct and at the same time delicately to gratify that
gentle vanity which is found in a greater or less degree in every woman's
heart.

The truth was then, that although his uncle ceased to respect him and rather
endured than was pleased with his society; that although Henry carried himself
towards him only with that courteous and mild bearing which an amiable
man extends towards one he can neither love nor respect, yet the maiden in
her heart loved him with a strength she had vainly tried to overcome, for her
pride of character led her strongly to condemn his character and conduct, and
while intellect disapproved, her weak heart forgave.

Such was the respective positions in relation to each other of the group
which we have introduced to the reader in the cupola of the villa. We will
now return to the scenes more immediately before us.