 | CHAPTER II. The free-trader, or, The cruiser of Narragansett Bay |  |
2. CHAPTER II.
The man stood for some time closely
watching the distant sail after the departure
of the female, and having one
eye shut and the other at the lens of the
telescope, he did not observe the approach
of two persons, the sound of
their footsteps being broken by the thick
moss with which the rock was covered.
One of them was an elderly gentleman,
the other an extremely beautiful
young girl of seventeen, who was hanging
upon his arm. They were approaching
by the path which led from
the town, which was but a short walk
from the height, being indeed so nigh that
one could distinguish and recognise persons
walking in the streets.
The gentleman was about forty-seven
years of age, tall and commanding in his
person, and with that indescribable air of
high-bred courtesy which marks the
man by fortune and condition. His
dress also evinced, but less strongly,
his position in society, for money can
purchase the garb but not the mind of
a true gentleman. He wore a very elegant
coat of purple velvet, with silver
lace at the cuffs, a white waistcoat with
silver buttons, and small clothes of
drab cassimere, while at his knees and
in his polished shoes sparkled jet buckles.
His neatly plaited ruffle that
amply filled his bosom, his snow-white
stockings and spotless cravat, evinced
a man of neat and precise habits, though
all well-bred persons of that day studied
more precision in dress than those
of modern times. His hair was powdered
and a queue wound with black silk
hung down over his collar.
He wore a chapeau, laced and sparkling
with the diamond button that looped
up its front. He wore no sword, but
carried in his grasp a stout bamboo
stick ornamented with a gold top. The
expression of his face, which was very
noble in the outline, was that of mingled
firmness and benevolence, combined
with worldly sagacity. He was
in conversation with the maiden, and a
smile of affection, which played upon
his face whenever he spoke, showed
that she was dearer and nearer to him
than a mere acquaintance. This the
character of her face gave clear evidence
of; for she had the same clear,
hazel eye and intelligent looking brow
that characterized his countenance, and
there was a likeness to his smile in hers.
Those features of resemblance were,
however, refined and spiritualized in
her, for she was surpassingly lovely.
Her complexion was unusually brilliant,
a beauty for which the ladies of Newport
are at this day remarkable, and her
fine eyes were animated with intelligence,
and cheerfulness shone like sunny
Her figure, as she slightly leaned
with unstudied grace upon her father's
arm, for such was the near relation in
which he stood to her, displayed the
most exquisite symmetry just developing
into the blooming tournure of womanly
proportion.
They had been walking on slowly,
enjoying and remarking upon the beauty
of the harbor and bay under the
pleasant evening sun, and occasionally
stopping to enjoy some new and interesting
aspect under which the scenery,
familiar as it was to them, presented
itself; for never does the same
scene offer the same appearance twice
to the eye of the tasteful observer. It
is even modified by the state of the atmosphere,
of the heavens, of the wind,
and even the feelings of the spectator.
No landscape looks the same in the afternoon
and in the morning; nor if there
be water and a breeze, in a wind and in
a still day. A cloud passing over the
sun will change its character for the
moment, and clouds hanging upon the
horizon often serve for the time, instead
of a range of mountains, to terminate a
level prospect. The glory and beauty
of nature is forever varying, and the
eye of taste never wearies in gazing on
he most familiar scenes.
Thus it was, that although Barbara
Frankland had been conversant with
the landscape around her from very
childhood, and had walked to the signal
hill a thousand times alone, for she
dwelt not far distant, she every few
moments would stop to draw her father's
attention to some new and beautiful
feature of the scene around her. The
British sloop-of-war which had anchored
in the harbor in the morning, was also
an object of deep interest to them both,
and came in for its share of attention;
but when Mr. Frankland, on gaining
the top of the acclivity, saw the mate
with the glass at his eye and beheld the
said down the bay, he quickened his pace,
dropping his daughter's arm, saying:
“There is something coming in!
I must see what master Finch has made
of it.”
The man was so busily occupied in
trying to make out the stranger, that
the new comer was close by his side
and had laid his hand lightly on his
arm before he discovered his presence.
“Oh, your sarvant, sir, I begs pardon!
and good day, miss!” he said,
bowing sailor-fashion, with great respect
to the merchant, for such he was,
and with a more than usual degree of
nautical grace to the maiden, who had
stopped a few feet off and was engaged
in looking admiringly about her from
the commanding eminence which she
had reached. She smiled and nodded
pleasantly at his salutation, while her
father said eagerly,
“What do you discover, master
Finch? What, is she coming up? Is
it the brig?”
“No, sir,” responded the mate, as he
touched his hat and handed to him the
spy-glass. “She is an armed schooner
I think, sir, by her rakish and taunt
looks and the squareness of her top-sail.
But look for yourself, sir.”
“Yes, I think you are right. She is
very plainly a schooner, but what can she
be? Are we to have more war-vessels
up here, forsooth?” added the merchant
with a slight flash of angry surprise
upon his cheek. “Do you see her,
Bab?” he said, addressing his daughter,
whose attention was drawn to the vessel
by their words. “Take the spy-glass.
It is an armed vessel, Finch
says.”
“And mad Margaret says that it is
“and I believe she is right, for she told
me it was a vessel-of-war before I made
that out with the glass! She has better
eyes than most folks, or she sees like a
witch.”
“When did you see Margaret?”
asked the young girl with some animation,
upon hearing the name of the woman
mentioned.
“Not ten minutes agone, miss. I
was here keeping watch, as his honor
bade me do, to give him the first notice
when this brig hove in sight, when Mag
comes and anchors herself on that stone
there, and amuses herself with cursing
the sloop-of-war there.”
“Poor woman!” said the merchant,
“she has good cause for wishing evil
to the British ships.”
“Where is she, good master Finch?”
asked Barbara Frankland.
“Well, that would be as difficult as
to tell which way the wind would blow
next Friday week. But I think she
steered for her house under the hill
there by the cove.”
“Well, father, I believe I will walk
down and see Margaret, while you and
master Finch are watching the approaching
vessel.”
“Don't be long, child,” answered
the merchant, “and here, give this
piece. She may stand in need of more
comtorts than she has.”
“Thanks, father, I will place the
money in her hands and say you sent
it,” answered the maiden, taking from
him a Spanish coin of considerable
value.
“And she will send good winds and
fair after your ships, sir,” said the mate,
with the looks of one who believed she
could do as he said, “I would rather
have Maggy's good will than her ill-favor.”
“Art thou so simple-minded, master
Finch, as to believe she hath power
over the winds?” asked the merchant
with a look of grave reproof.
“Certainly, he does, dear father,”
said the young girl, laughing. “All
sailors believe in the supernatural. I
dare say master Finch has full faith in
aunt Margaret's spells.”
“And some young ladies, too, I suspect,”
answered Finch, “for I've seen
you go to her hut more than once, miss.”
“I go to see if she is in want of
nothing to render her solitary life comfortable,”
responded Barbara, though
she blushed as if there was more in
the old seaman's words than she cared
to confess to him, and as if conscious of
her embarrassed air, she turned away,
saying gaily as she hastened along the
path the other had taken, “But perhaps
I am now going there to get my
fortune told, who knows, master
Finch?”
“It's more likely than not,” he answered
as she disappeared. “The
truth is, your honor,” he added, addressing
her father, “the truth is there
is more superstition in a pretty lass like
Miss Barbara, begging your honor's
pardon, than in the oldest salt as ever
sarved in a man-of-war. They believe
if mad Maggy turns up a tea-cup, she
can tell them what consort they'll cruise
alongside of all their life. Now, I
wouldn't be afeared to guess that Miss
Barbara, from the look of her eye, has
something more to say to Maggy than to
ask her if she is comfortable. There's
some witch business, be sure, your
honor.”
“Well no harm can come of it,
Finch. The poor woman can do no
one either injury or good.”
“I a'nt so sure of that, your honor
Things ha' been said about her as looks
body, not but Maggy is honest and
Christian enough, for she prays like a
parson, and never takes pay for it, and
loves the sailor, too. I never minded
much what folks said about her, but
when I see what she did a bit ago, here,
I was a little put aback, and thought
she knew even more nor folks said she
did.”
“Why, what did she do, Finch?”
asked the merchant, who had turned
his glass from the approaching vessel
and was now levelling it steadily and
with earnest curiosity at the sloop-of-war
anchored in the stream.
“Why, she said positive, that the
schooner was a war-schooner afore I
could make it out to be so with the spy-glass,
which shows confounded long seeing
for nat'ral eyes, and then she talked
so strange about its standing to reason
that eyes as God made is better than
telescopes as man makes; just as if she
could see for all the world as far as a spyglass!
And I believe on my soul she
can, your honor! I never was afraid
of her till then! And if this craft
turns out to be an old country cruiser,
I shall set her down for a witch. What
is it your honor sees in the sloop?”
“I was merely looking at her. She
is a fine vessel, methinks.”
“One of the crack sloops in the
King's navy, your honor. It is the same
one that was chased by two Dutch
frigates and a corvette last year, and
out-sailing the frigates, turned upon and
captured the corvette in sight of 'em.
She sails well and fights well.”
“I would rather she had sailed slower
and been taken by the Dutchman
than be here at anchor, master Finch.
I fear she will give us trouble.”
“She looks quiet enough now, your
honor. What do you suppose she is in
here for? To press men, I dare say.”
“She will no doubt press any men
that come in her way; but this is not
her business. She has come to see that
we Newport merchants obey the new
revenue laws and enter all our cargoes
at the king's custom house.”
“That is, she means to see that the
broad arrow is put on everything that is
landed, is that it, your honor?”
“Yes. But the king has no right to
enforce duties on wines and molasses,
nor indeed to enforce any revenue such
as he has resolved to impose on us,
and we intend to resist the authority of
his unjust laws.”
“In the face of the sloop there, your
honor! no, no,” said the old man shaking
his head. “There is too much
round iron and powder in her.”
“We fear neither her iron nor her
powder, master Finch. I shall land my
cargo of wines and molasses as soon as
the brig arrives, in defiance of the revenue.
I shall not pay a thousand pounds
into the king's treasury for the privilege
of landing my own property; and he
who attemps to rob me of my goods in
the shape of duties is a robber, and
shall be treated as such.”
“But, your honor, you will not resist
the king's new custom house officers, if
they come on board?”
“I don't mean they shall come on
board. I expect my brig, “the Free-Trader,”
in with this wind, and to give
me timely notice of her approach, I
have, as you know, set you on the
watch here, so that when she comes
within signal distance, I can telegraph
her to stand out again until night and
then run in, when I will board her before
she comes to anchor, and have her
up at my wharf and her freight out of
her before daybreak.”
“It will be a dangerous business for
here, it might be done, for the custom-house
men are but few, but it will be
risky business now; and here comes
this schooner, too, to make it more so.”
“I have made up my mind what I
will do, and nothing will alter my determination,”
said the American merchant
firmly.
| CHAPTER II. The free-trader, or, The cruiser of Narragansett Bay | |