 | CHAPTER XXV. My brother's keeper |  |
25. CHAPTER XXV.
Many storms do there arise,
Which will be to ladies dreadful,
And force tears from wat'ry eyes.
—Spanish Ladye's Love.
It was in a corner of the Bay State that Thornton decided
to place his sisters. Partly from the fine country and the
wholesome air, and partly from the peace and security which
could be found there more surely than in New York. But
he abhorred stage-coaches; and determined that at least one
part of the journey should be pleasant, he would go as far as
New Haven by water, and in a sailing vessel—which in those
days of Steam's apprenticeship was far better.
The Old Thirteen was a pretty little sloop, neat and
trim built; worthy of the sea as well as sea-worthy; and
despite her name had seen but just enough service to prove
her an excellent sailer. Her canvass was new, with only the
unfledged look of newness worn off; her mast white and
tapering; her hull painted of a deep dull red half way above
the water line, and from that to the bulwarks of a dark
olive green. Her flag was of the largest, her streamers
of the longest and brightest; her figure-head was the Liberty
of the old coins with the thirteen stars for a crown. In this
sloop Mr. Clyde saw fit to take passage for New Haven,—
not truly because of the beauty of her equipments, but because
of man.'
He had spent his life in trading vessels upon the Sound,
—generally running out as far as Point Judith and taking
up a little of the shore trade on his way. For some time
indeed, the Sound had been too closely blockaded to permit
unarmed vessels much freedom upon its waters, and the
shipping trade was rather dull. But Captain Pliny Cruise
being of the mind that a week on shore would certainly
kill him, continued to brave the enemy's guns as offering
a much more desirable death; and by a system of dodging,
running, and out-sailing, which was always successful, he
carried on his trade with Rhode Island as though no
Squadron were in the way.
The Old Thirteen then, lay at her pier in the East
river; and the May morning acted the part of Macbeth's
witches, and said,
“I'll give thee a wind.”
sprang up a breeze of another kind and not quite so favourable.
For Thornton with characteristic carelessness had
merely engaged `the best accommodations there were, for
four people;' and the idea of a lady passenger had never
entered the Captain's head.
`Bonnets!' he said as Thornton's party emerged from
the carriage,—`one, two, three on 'em—what on airth!'
And Captain Pliny Cruise at once walked off to the other
end of his vessel, took a seat and looked into the water.
There he sat until Thornton touched his shoulder.
`Good morning, Captain Cruise.'
`How are you, Mr. Clyde?' said the Captain, looking
round and showing a very discomfited face.
`Is this where you commonly receive your passengers?'
said Thornton.
`No,' said the Captain, returning to his gaze at the
water,—`not commonly. I do' know where the place is,
no more.'
`If you are not particularly engaged,' said Mr. Clyde,
with some emphasis, `I should like to know where to put my
sisters!'
`So should I,' said Captain Pliny. `Give a' most anything
I'm master of at this present.'
But he rose and walked aft; and being formally presented
to Miss Clyde he welcomed her with,
`Right sorry to see you here, ma'am.'
`Sorry to see me?' Rosalie said.
`Exactly,' said Captain Pliny. `Always sorry to see a
cargo come aboard I do' know how to stow.'
`Don't know how to stow!' said Thornton impatiently.
`Why you said you could take half a dozen.'
`Sort not specified,' said the Captain. `You never said
the first word about bonnets—and the Old Thirteen aint a
bandbox, though she do come near it.'
`You will not want much room in which to stow me,'
said Rosalie with a smile.
`Always give chena particular packing and soft quarters,'
said the Captain. `And if you aint labelled `Glass with
care,' never trust me with another crate. Then there's
another thing, Mr. Clyde; afore the vessel heads off into the
stream, you'd maybe as well take a look at my chart; but
that's between you and me;' and leading the way into the
little cabin he made Rosalie understand, that if by the use
of the whole or any part of the Old Thirteen she could
make herself comfortable, it was at her service.
`Now Mr. Clyde,' he said, `come and take a look at my
chart.'
`I don't know anything about charts,' said Thornton.
`'Taint too late, yet,' said the Captain. `Know where
you're going and how to go, and you're half there. Come
sir.'
And Thornton went, though laughing both at himself
and the Captain; but when once on deck the manner of the
latter changed.
`The thing is just this, Mr. Clyde—and I wouldn't
have such a cargo aboard, not for a sloop load o' prize
money. The Sound's full o' rough customers, sir; and like
enough we'll fall in with some of 'em. And they don't speak
no softer to ladies' ears than to others.'
`They'll never get a chance to speak to us,' said Thornton,—`they're
too far down the Sound.'
`We'll hope that,' said Captain Pliny, `and yet they
might. They've found out there's Eastern people most every
place, doubtless. Never run a feminine craft into rough
weather sir, if you know it aforehand. They aint just built
for it.'
`O,' said Thornton laughing, `my sister can stand fire
like a soldier.'
The old Captain shook his head.
`Ay sir! like and not like! better and worse! And
she don't look as though she'd seen much salt water—not o'
the genuine.'
`She'll see more if we ever get away from this wharf,'
said Thornton. `You come and go, Captain Cruise,—
where's the danger to other people?'
`Ay,' said Captain Pliny,—`I come and go. What of
that? This here mainmast's my post, sir—that's why I
stand by it. It aint yours. And all the rest o' my fleet
is at anchor sir, long ago,—safe moored in the harbour.
There's none to look in the papers and see whether Pliny
Cruise is arrived, or only cleared for a better country.'
`Well when shall we have our clearance from here?'
said Thornton, who was not fond of meeting Rosalie's opinions
where he didn't expect them.
`I've said my say,' was the Captain's reply. And in
half an hour, during which three or four messengers had
been sent in as many different directions for fruit and other
lady-like comforts, the Old Thirteen glided off into the
channel and set her sails before the wind.
By that time Rosalie and Hulda came on deck again,
and took seats there to enjoy the fresh breeze. View there
was not, at least that was very well worth looking at;
though spring colouring made even those low shores look
pretty, and the river in its blue windings shewed many a
curl and crest over its rocky bed. The sloop went smoothly
on, and her Captain busied himself with his own judgment
of her passengers. There was no disagreeable observation
of them, but now and then a few words or a look—chiefly
at Rosalie; and each time his eyes went back with increased
vigilance to the reaches of the river that lay beyond. But
the afternoon passed quietly and the night fell with no disturbance:
and if Rosalie failed to sleep with absolute forgetfulness,
it was for no such reason as made Captain Pliny
pace the deck all night over her head.
The morning broke with light airs from the north, and
the vessel made small headway. The Sound began to open
out now, and the prow of the little vessel pointed to a
horizon line of sea in the far distance; lying blue and
sweet as if no disagreeable thing had ever crossed it. Yet
thither were Captain Pliny's eyes directed, as if at every
moment he expected to see the whole British fleet come in
sight; while the same watchful glances raked the coast on
both sides.
`How fair everything is this morning,' said a voice at the
Captain's elbow.
`Yes—all is fair—sartain!' said Captain Pliny rising
with a surprised look at his visiter. `Sartain!' he repeated
softly as his eye took another observation of that delicate
face. `Fair and softly goes so far into this twenty-fifth of
May. But Madam we don't all keep watch aboard,—and
they that watch for the morning had ought to be the strong
and not the weak.'
She smiled—partly at the rough and kindly mingling in
his speech, partly at the `sweet English' which as she truly
said the Bible always was to her ear; and she repeated—
“My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch
for the morning.”
`Ay, ay,' said Captain Pliny, `I thought that was in your
face, from the first you come aboard. But if you'd ever
been where I have—on deck in such a hurricane as you
couldn't stand for one minute, young lady; with the rain
coming down whole water, and the waves flying to meet it
like a thirsty caravan,—I say if you'd ever done that, you'd
know what the verse meant! And it seemed as if I `waited
for light and behold obscurity.”
Did she not know? had she not watched through those
long nights of stillness in a sick room which precede the
storm and the wreck? She was silent and Captain Pliny
went on.
`Waiting's a hard thing somewhiles—that's true. I've
seen times when I would do the worst day's work I ever did,
sooner than wait. And yet “blessed is he that waiteth,”
and “he that waiteth shall not be ashamed,”—that's true
too, on land and water. Even for things of this world.'
`Yes,' Rosalie answered; and half to herself she went
on.
“For since the beginning of the world men have not
heard, nor perceived by the ear, neither hath the eye seen, O
for him.”
`True, true,' said Captain Pliny; `I believe that. And
this heavens and earth shall not come into mind, for the
glory that excelleth. And yet that's sort o' handsome,' he
said after a little pause, raising his weather-browned hand
and pointing forwards. The wind was blowing quite fresh,
and beneath its influence the water rose and fell in large,
deep green waves, each with its white cap lit up with a
thousand sparkles. The vessel dipped and rose on the undulations
with a graceful submission to circumstances; and
now and then one of her opposers came full tilt against her
prow, and was dashed to pieces on the little Liberty figure-head.
`The Old Thirteen takes the waves pretty much as her
namesake did the British,' remarked Captain Pliny as the
spray flew over the deck. `How do you like that, young
lady?'
`I like it well,' she answered with a smile.
`Craft running t'other way has it smoother,' said the
Captain; `but the wind's dead ahead for us, and we take
the waves which way we can get 'em. Slow work too. But
an honest voyage is always just the right length.'
Their progress was indeed slow. Long tacks from side
to side made it rough as well, and every puff of the wind
was charged with spray; but still the Captain's unwonted
cargo remained on deck, and even Hulda enjoyed without
fear the salt water and the fresh breeze. There had been
little in sight all the morning,—few white wings abroad but
sea gulls, and what there were mere specks. By dinner
time two or three of them were nearer, but the Captain
knew them for American coasters, and having pointed out
Hart Island to Rosalie, and told her that at this rate she
dinner.
`You have spent all your life in this way, Captain?'
said Rosalie.
`Set afloat afore I knew a painter from a buoy,' returned
Captain Pliny; not at all aware that his hearers had not yet
attained that knowledge.
`And what sort of a life do you call it?' said Thornton.
`First rate!' said Captain Pliny. `Can't be beat, if you
go the world over and try your hand at everything.'
`Tedious enough, I should think,' said Thornton.
`Why as to that, young gentleman,' said Captain Pliny,
`there's many a one I do suppose, too fresh to like salt water.
But no man who does his duty has a right to call his life
tedious—or I might say, a chance; for those very things are
just what he was put into the world to do. If he will ballast
his ship according to his own fancy, not for her build and
cargo, no wonder if she don't sail well.'
`One might have a bad cargo though,' said Thornton.
`Not without you've got sense to match,' said the Captain.
`The best cargo's what'll fetch most where you're
going.—The end of the voyage, young gentleman, and the
profits—keep your eye on them,—then load your ship and
make sail.'
`Now here were you only yesterday getting a bad cargo,
said Thornton.
`Bad? no,' said Captain Pliny with a smile—`just a
thought too good; and I won't say that feminine bills of
lading are always made out true. Put 'em in another hull's
the best way—let them have their craft and keep your own,
—keep at a safe distance and you may sail on together
'most'—
`Sloop ahoy!
The words rang through the Old Thirteen as if she had
been a speaking trumpet herself. Before they had died
away Captain Pliny stood on the deck with his own trumpet
in hand.
`Old Thirteen—New York—Pliny Cruise, commander,'
—the words almost knocked each other down with the
rapidity of their egress.
`Put about—' came from the other vessel, which was one
of the Government coasters. `Enemy below.'
`What force?' returned the Captain.
`Frigate—38'—was the reply.
`How far?'
`Four miles.'
Captain Pliny laid down his trumpet and turned to confront
his passengers, who stood close behind him.
`I told you so, Mr. Clyde,' he said. `I shewed you a
Squadron laid down in my chart, as plain as the old Point
herself. Never launch a feminine craft on no sea but the
Pacific.
`What is to hinder our running for New Haven and out-running
the Frigate?' said Thornton.
`Might fall out that we shouldn't win the race,' said the
Captain.
`But you run past these frigates continually?'
`Just so,' said the Captain,—`I do, sartain:—hope to
again,—when there's only Pliny Cruise aboard it don't signify.
I'd rather be shot through than have the Old Thirteen
turn tail this fashion.'
`Sloop ahoy!' came from another coaster that was bearing
down upon them.
`Ay, ay!' said Captain Pliny catching up his trumpet
to reply.
`Frigate ahead—38 guns—run!' was shouted out as the
vessel swept by.
`Now there's a few of the unpleasant'st words!' said the
Captain,—`though I've heard it all afore. Not a gun—'cept
for salutes,—I'd like to give 'em a kiss once!—Must be
done.—Put about there!' he shouted,—`haul down her
colours!—all sail for New York!' And as he walked off
the Captain tried to console himself with,
`Can't run a feminine craft into danger—can't—it
goes agin my conscience.'
And as one sail after another spread out in its place, until
near all were set that she would carry, the Old Thirteen
changed her course and went scudding up the Sound. But
as if to shew his good inclinations, the Captain seated himself
with his face in the other direction and sailed backwards.
`Pliny Cruise,' he said to himself, `never engage a cargo
again without knowing what it is.'
The wind held on its way and the vessel on hers without
interruption; but the passengers took their tea alone and
Captain Pliny would not leave the deck. There Thornton
found him when he went up at nine o'clock, but Rosalie and
Hulda remained below.
Captain Pliny was on his feet now, standing motionless
at the stern of the vessel; his eyes doing what eyes could to
pierce the darkness on all sides, but especially in the wake
of his own sloop.
`Dark night,' said Thornton as he came up.
`If we don't get more light on the subject afore another
hour, be thankful,' said the Captain. `You see them lights
astarn? they're after us, as sure as my name's what it is;
and whichever of us gets in first 'll have the best of it.'
`After us?' said Thornton. `The frigate?'
`Something less than that,' said Captain Pliny,—`nothing
more than a sloop I take it. But she follows us. I've
see eight mouths on a side.'
`Lights?' said Thornton.
`Ay—at her ports,' said the Captain coolly. `I can't
tell yet which of us gains.'
`Hoa! ship ahoa!' came faintly from the pursuing
vessel.
`There you are!' said Captain Pliny. `Mind your own
business and leave Yankees to ask questions. Make sail!'
he added, turning quick about. `If we've got to shew the
white feather it shall be a good one!' And as more and
more canvass was spread and filled there came another hail
borne down on the night wind.
`She'll speak louder next time,' said Captain Pliny,—
`and we've got no more canvass. Go below Mr. Clyde, and
take care of your glassware. What man can do has been
done—what the Lord will let him do.'
But Thornton stood still.
Two or three port-hole lights appeared now, and presently
a brilliant flash shot out into the darkness, and a ball whizzed
through the mainsail of the little sloop which was spread out
before the wind.
`Plain speaking,' said Captain Pliny, almost leaning over
the stern of the vessel in his interest. `There comes
another;—and a third;—right through her sails, both
on 'em.'
But the fourth shot fell astern.
`We gain now,' said the Captain with a voice less clear
than before. `I doubt Mr. Clyde there's something stronger
than wind helping us on.'
And as if impelled by some new power the Old Thirteen
sped along, until even the lights of the pursuing vessel grew
dim in the distance. Not until then did Thornton quit the
deck.
Rosalie sat by Hulda's bed, so motionless that her
brother at first paused lest she might be asleep. But she
looked up, and as he came and sat down by her she laid her
head on his shoulder, and neither spoke nor moved till the
day broke. Captain Pliny's advice needed no further
repetition.
| CHAPTER XXV. My brother's keeper | |