The Water-Witch or, The Skimmer of the Seas by James Fenimore Cooper (page 2)

having a city in the view,” remarked Alida, with an emphasis that showed she meant even more than she expressed.

“We are by ourselves, niece of mine,” returned the Alderman, rubbing his hands as if he secretly felicitated himself that the fact were so. “That truth cannot be denied, and good company we are, though the opinion comes from one who is not a cipher in the party. Modesty is a poor man’s wealth, but as we grow substantial in the world, Patroon, one can afford to begin to speak truth of himself, as well as of his neighbor.”

“In which case, little, but good, will be uttered from the mouth of Alderman Van Beverout,” said Ludlow, appearing so suddenly from behind the root of the tree, as effectually to shut the mouth of the burgher. “My desire to offer the services of the ship to your party, has led to this abrupt intrusion, and I hope will obtain its pardon.”

“The power to forgive is a prerogative of the Governor, who represents the Queen,” drily returned the Alderman. “If Her Majesty has so little employment for her cruisers, that their captains can dispose of them, in behalf of old men and young maidens–why, happy is the age, and commerce should flourish!”

“If the two duties are compatible, the greater the reason why a commander should felicitate himself that he may be of service to so many. You are bound to the Jersey Highlands, Mr. Van Beverout?”

“I am bound to a comfortable and very private abode, called the Lust in Rust, Captain Cornelius Van Cuyler Ludlow.”

The young man bit his lip, and his healthful but brown cheek flushed a deeper red than common, though he preserved his composure.

“And I am bound to sea,” he soon said. “The wind is getting fresh, and your boat, which I see, at this moment, standing in for the islands, will find it difficult to make way against its force. The Coquette’s anchor will be aweigh, in twenty minutes; and I shall find two hours of an ebbing tide, and a top-gallant breeze, but too short a time for the pleasure of entertaining such guests. I am certain that the fears of la Belle will favor my wishes, whichsoever side of the question her inclinations may happen to be.”

“And they are with her uncle;” quickly returned Alida. “I am so little of a sailor, that prudence, if not pusillanimity, teaches me to depend on the experience of older heads.”

“Older I may not pretend to be,” said Ludlow, coloring; “but Mr. Van Beverout will see no pretension in believing myself as good a judge of wind and tide, as even he himself can be.”

“You are said to command Her Majesty’s sloop with skill, Captain Ludlow, and it is creditable to the colony, that it has produced so good an officer; though I believe your grandfather came into the province, so lately as on the restoration of King Charles the Second?”

“We cannot claim descent from the United Provinces, Alderman Van Beverout, on the paternal side, but whatever may have been the political opinions of my grandfather, those of his descendant have never been questioned. Let me entreat the fair Alida to take counsel of the apprehension I am sure she feels, and to persuade her uncle that the Coquette is safer than his periagua.”

“It is said to be easier to enter than to quit your ship,” returned the laughing Alida. “By certain symptoms that attended our passage to the island, your Coquette, like others, is fond of conquest. One is not safe beneath so malign an influence.”

“This is a reputation given by our enemies. I had hoped for a different answer from la belle Barberie.”

The close of the sentence was uttered with an emphasis that caused the blood to quicken its movement in the veins of the maiden. It was fortunate that neither of their companions was very observant, or else suspicions might have been excited, that a better intelligence existed between the young sailor and the heiress, than would have comported with their wishes and intentions.

“I had hoped for a different answer from la belle Barberie,” repeated Ludlow, in a lower voice, but with even a still more emphatic tone than before.

There was evidently a struggle in the mind of Alida.–She overcame it, before her confusion could be noted; and, turning to the valet, she said, with the composure and grace that became a gentlewoman–

“Rends moi le livre, Francois.”

“Le voici–ah! ma chere Mam’selle Alide, que ce Monsieur le marin se fachait a cause de la gloire, et des beaux vers de notre illustre M. Pierre Corneille!”

“Here is an English sailor, that I am sure will not deny the merit of an admired writer, even though he come of a nation that is commonly thought hostile, Francois,” returned his mistress, smiling “Captain Ludlow, it is now a month since I am your debtor, by promise, for a volume of Corneille, and I here acquit myself of the obligation. When you have perused the contents of this book, with the attention they deserve, I may hope—-“

“For a speedy opinion of their merits.”

“I was about to say, to receive the volume again, as it is a legacy from my father,” steadily rejoined Alida.

“Legacies and foreign tongues!” muttered the Alderman. “One is well enough; but for the other, English and Dutch are all that the wisest man need learn. I never could understand an account of protit and loss in any other tongue, Patroon; and even a favorable balance never appears so great as it is, unless the account be rendered in one or the other of these rational dialects. Captain Ludlow, we thank you for your politeness, but here is one of my fellows to tell us that my own periagua is arrived; and, wishing you a happy and a long cruise, as we say of lives, I bid you, adieu.”

The young seaman returned the salutations of the party, with a better grace than his previous solicitude to persuade them to enter his ship, might have given reason to expect. He even saw them descend the hill, towards the water of the outer bay, with entire composure; and it was only after they had entered a thicket which hid them from view, that he permitted his feelings to have sway.

Then indeed he drew the volume from his pocket and opened its leaves with an eagerness he could no longer control. It seemed as if he expected to read more, in the pages, than the author had caused to be placed there; but when his eye caught sight of a sealed billet, the legacy of M. de Barberie fell at his feet; and the paper was torn asunder, with all the anxiety of one who expected to find in its contents a decree of life or death.

Amazement was clearly the first emotion of the young seaman. He read and re-read; struck his brow with his hand; gazed about him at the land and at the water; re-perused the note; examined the superscription, which was simply to ‘Capt. Ludlow, of Her Majesty’s ship Coquette:’ smiled; muttered between his teeth; seemed vexed, and yet delighted; read the note again, word by word, and finally thrust it into his pocket, with the air of a man who had found reason for both regret and satisfaction in its contents.

Chapter VI.

“–What, has this thing appeared again, to-night?”

Hamlet.

“The face of man is the log-book of his thoughts, and Captain Ludlow’s seems agreeable,” observed a voice, that came from one, who was not far from the commander of the Coquette, while the latter was still enacting the pantomime described in the close of the preceding chapter.

“Who speaks of thoughts and log-books or who dares to pry into my movements?” demanded the young sailor, fiercely.

“One who has trifled with the first and scribbled in the last too often, not to know how to meet a squall, whether it be seen in the clouds or only on the face of man. As for looking into your movements, Captain Ludlow, I have watched too many big ships in my time, to turn aside at each light cruiser that happens to cross my course. I hope, Sir, you have an answer; every hail has its right to a civil reply.”

Ludlow could scarce believe his senses, when, on turning to face the intruder, he saw himself confronted by the audacious eye and calm mien of the mariner who had, once before that morning, braved his resentment. Curbing his indignation, however, the young man endeavored to emulate the coolness which, notwithstanding his inferior condition, imparted to the air of the other something that was imposing, if it were not absolutely authoritative. Perhaps the singularity of the adventure aided in effecting an object, that was a little difficult of attainment in one accustomed to receive so much habitual deference from most of those who made the sea their home. Swallowing his resentment, the young commander answered–

“He that knows how to face his enemies with spirit, may be accounted sufficiently bold; but he who braves the anger of his friends, is fool-hardy.”

“And he who does neither, is wiser than both,” rejoined the reckless hero of the sash. “Captain Ludlow, we meet on equal terms, at present, and the parley may be managed with some freedom.”

“Equality is a word that ill applies to men of stations so different.”

“Of our stations and duties it is not necessary to speak. I hope that, when the proper time shall come, both may be found ready to be at the first, and equal to discharge the last. But Captain Ludlow, backed by the broadside of the Coquette and the cross-fire of his marines, is not Captain Ludlow alone, on a sea bluff, with a crutch no better than his own arm, and a stout heart. As the first, he is like a spar supported by backstays and forestays, braces and standing rigging; while, as the latter, he is the stick, which keeps its head aloft by the soundness and quality of its timber. You have the appearance of one who can go alone, even though it blew heavier than at present, if one may judge of the force of the breeze, by the manner it presses on the sails of yonder boat in the bay.”

“Yonder boat begins to feel the wind, truly!” said Ludlow, suddenly losing all other interest in the appearance of the periagua which held Alida and her friends, and which, at that instant, shot out from beneath the cover of the hill into the broad opening of Raritan bay. “What think you of the time, my friend? a man of your years should speak with knowledge of the weather.”

“Women and winds are only understood, when fairly in motion,” returned he of the sash; “now, any mortal who consulted comfort and the skies, would have preferred a passage in Her Majesty’s ship Coquette, to one in yonder dancing periagua; and yet the fluttering silk we see, in the boat, tells us there is one who has thought otherwise.”

“You are a man of singular intelligence,” cried Ludlow, again facing the intruder; “as well as one of singular——“

“Effrontery,” rejoined the other, observing that the commander hesitated. Let the commissioned officer of the Queen speak boldly; I am no better than a top-man, or at most a quarter-master.”

“I wish to say nothing disagreeable, but I find your knowledge of my offer to convey the lady and her friends to the residence of Alderman Van Beverout, a little surprising.”

“And I see nothing to wonder at, in your offer to convey the lady anywhere, though the liberality to her friends is not an act of so clear explanation. When young men speak from the heart, their words are not uttered in whispers.”

“Which would imply that you overheard our conversation. I believe it, for here is cover at hand to conceal you. It may be, Sir, that you have eyes, as well as ears.”

“I confess to have seen your countenance, changing sides, like a member of parliament turning to a new leaf in his conscience, at the Minister’s signal while you overhauled a bit of paper—-“

“Whose contents you could not know!”

“Whose contents I took to be some private orders, given by a lady who is too much of a coquette herself, to accept your offer to sail in a vessel of the same name.”

“By Heavens, the fellow has reason in his inexplicable impudence!” muttered Ludlow, pacing backward and forward beneath the shadow of the tree. “The language and the acts of the girl are in contradiction; and I am a fool to be trifled with, like a midshipman fresh broken loose from his mother’s apron-string. Harkee, Master-a-a–You’ve a name I suppose, like any other straggler on the ocean.”

“Yes. When the hail is loud enough to be heard, I answer to the call of Thomas Tiller.”

“Well then, Master Tiller, so clever a seaman should be glad to serve the Queen.”

“Were it not for duty to another, whose claim comes first, nothing could be more agreeable than to lend a lady in distress a helping hand.”

“And who is he, who may prefer a claim to your services, in competition with the majesty of these realms?” demanded Ludlow, with a little of the pretension that, when speaking of its privileges, is apt to distinguish the manner of one who has been accustomed to regard royalty with reverence.

“Myself. When our affairs call us the same way no one can be readier than I, to keep Her Majesty’s company; but—-“

“This is presuming too far, on the trifling of a moment,” interrupted Ludlow; “you know, sirrah, that I have the right to command your services, without entering into a parley for them; and which, notwithstanding your gay appearance, may, after all, be little worth the trouble.”

“There is no need to push matters to extremity, between us, Captain Ludlow,” resumed the stranger who had appeared to muse for a moment, “If I have baffled your pursuit once to-day, it was perhaps to make my merit in entering the ship freely, less undeniable. We are here alone, and your Honor will account it no boasting, if I say that a man, well limbed and active, who stands six feet between plank and earline, is not likely to be led against his will, like a yawl towing at the stern of a four-and-forty. I am a seaman, Sir; and though the ocean is my home, I never venture on it without sufficient footing. Look abroad from this hill, and say whether there is any craft in view, except the cruiser of the Queen, which would be likely to suit the taste of a mariner of the long voyage?”

“By which you would have me understand, you are here in quest of service?”

“Nothing less; and though the opinion of a fore-mast Jack may be of little value, you will not be displeased to hear, that I might look further without finding a prettier sea-boat, or a swifter, than the one which sails under your own orders. A seaman of your station, Captain Ludlow, is not now to learn, that a man speaks differently, while his name is his own, and after he has given it away to the crown; and therefore I hope my present freedom will not be long remembered.”

“I have met men of your humor before, my friend, and I have not now to learn, that a thorough man-of-war’s man is as impudent on shore, as he is obedient afloat.–Is that a sail, in the offing, or is it the wing of a sea-fowl, glittering in the sun?”

“It may be either,” observed the audacious mariner, turning his eye leisurely towards the open ocean, “for we have a wide look-out from this windy bluff. Here are gulls sporting above the waves, that turn their feathers towards the light.”

“Look more seaward. That spot of shining white should be the canvas of some craft, hovering in the offing!”

“Nothing more probable, in so light a breeze Your coasters are in and out, like water-rats on a wharf, at any hour of the twenty-four–and yet to me it seems the comb of a breaking sea.”

“‘Tis snow-white duck; such as your swift rover wears on his loftier spars!”

“A duck that is flown,” returned the stranger drily, “for it is no longer to be seen. These fly-aways, Captain Ludlow, give us seamen many sleepless nights and idle chases. I was once running down the coast of Italy, between the island of Corsica and the main, when one of these delusions beset the crew, in a manner that hath taught me to put little faith in eyes, unless backed by a clear horizon and a cool head.”

“I’ll hear the circumstance,” said Ludlow, withdrawing his gaze from the distant ocean, like one who was satisfied his senses had been deceived. “What of this marvel of the Italian seas?”

“A marvel truly, as your Honor will confess, when I read you the affair, much in the words I had it logged, for the knowledge of all concerned. It was the last hour of the second dog-watch, on Easter-Sunday, with the wind here at south-east, easterly. A light air filled the upper canvas, and just gave us command of the ship. The mountains of Corsica, with Monte Christo and Elba, had all been sunk some hours, and we were on the yards, keeping a look-out for a land-fall on the Roman coast. A low, thick bank of drifting fog lay along the sea, in-shore of us, which all believed to be the sweat of the land, and thought no more of; though none wished to enter it, for that is a coast where foul airs rise, and through which the gulls and land-birds refuse to fly. Well, here we lay, the mainsail in the brails, the top-sails beating the mast-heads, like a maiden fanning herself when she sees her lover, and nothing full but the upper duck, with the sun fairly below the water in the western board. I was then young, and quick of eye, as of foot, and therefore among the first to see the sight!”

“Which was—-?” said Ludlow, interested in spite of his assumed air of indifference.

“Why, here just above the bank of foul air, that ever rests on that coast, there was seen an object, that looked like ribs of bright light, as if a thousand stars had quitted their usual berths in the heaven, to warn us off the land, by a supernatural beacon. The sight was in itself altogether out of nature and surprising. As the night thickened, it grew brighter and more glowing, as if ’twere meant in earnest to warn us from the coast. But when the word was passed to send the glasses aloft, there was seen a glittering cross on high, and far above the spars on which earthly ships carry their private signals.”

“This was indeed extraordinary! and what did you, to come at the character of the heavenly symbol?”

“We wore off shore, and left it a clear berth for bolder mariners. Glad enough was I to see, with the morning sun, the snowy hills of Corsica, again!”

“And the appearance of that object was never explained?”

“Nor ever will be. I have since spoke with the mariners of that sea concerning the sight, but never found any who could pretend to have seen it. There was indeed one bold enough to say, there is a church, far inland, of height and magnitude sufficient to be seen some leagues at sea, and that, favored by our position and the mists that hung above the low grounds, we had seen its upper works, looming above the fogs, and lighted for some brilliant ceremony; but we were all too old in seaman’s experience to credit so wild a tale. I know not but a church may loom, as well as a hill or a ship; but he, who pretends to say, that the hands of man can thus pile stones among the clouds, should be certain of believers, ere he pushes the tale too far.”

“Your narrative is extraordinary, and the marvel should have been looked into closer. It may truly have been a church, for there stands an edifice at Rome, which towers to treble the height of a cruiser’s masts.”

“Having rarely troubled churches, I know not why a church should trouble me,” said the mariner of the sash, while he turned his back on the ocean, as if indisposed to regard the waste of water longer. “It is now twelve years since that sight was seen, and though a seaman of many voyages, my eyes have not looked upon the Roman coast, from that hour to this. Will your Honor lead the way from the bluff, as becomes your rank?”

“Your tale of the burning cross and looming church, Master Tiller, had almost caused me to forget to watch the movements of yon periagua,” returned Ludlow, who still continued to face the bay. “That obstinate old Dutchman—-I say, Sir, that Mr. Alderman Van Beverout has greater confidence in this description of craft than I feel myself. I like not the looks of yonder cloud, which is rising from out the mouth of Raritan; and here, seaward, we have a gloomy horizon.–By Heaven! there is a sail playing in the offing or my eye hath lost its use and judgment.”

“Your Honor sees the wing of the sporting gull, again; it had been nigh to deceive my sight, which would be to cheat the look-out of a man that has the advantage of some ten or fifteen years’ more practice in marine appearances. I remember once, when beating in among the islands of the China seas, with the trades here at south-east—-“

“Enough of your marvels, friend; the church is as much as I can swallow, in one morning–It may have been a gull! for I confess the object small; yet it had the steadiness and size of a distant sail! There is some reason to expect one on our coast, for whom a bright and seaman’s watch must be had.”

“This may then leave me a choice of ships,” rejoined Tiller. “I thank your Honor for having spoken, before I had given myself away to the Queen; who is a lady that is much more apt to receive gifts of this nature, than to return them.”

“If your respect aboard shall bear any proportion to your hardihood on shore, you may be accounted a model of civility! But a mariner of your pretension should have some regard to the character of the vessel in which he takes service.”

“That of which your Honor spoke, is then a buccaneer?”

“If not a buccaneer, one but little better. A lawless trader, under the most favorable view; and there are those who think that he, who has gone so far, has not stopt short of the end. But the reputation of the ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ must be known to one who has navigated the ocean, long as you.”

“You will overlook the curiosity of a seafaring man, in a matter of his profession,” returned the mariner of the sash, with strong and evident interest in his manner. “I am lately from a distant ocean, and though many tales of the buccaneers of the islands have been narrated, I do not remember to have heard of that rover, before his name came into the discourse between me and the schipper of the boat, that plies between this landing and the city. I am not, altogether, what I seem, Captain Ludlow; and when further acquaintance and hard service shall have brought me more before the eyes of my commander, he may not repent having induced a thorough seaman to enter his ship, by a little condescension and good-nature shown while the man was still his own master. Your Honor will take no offence at my boldness, when I tell you, I should be glad to know more of this unlawful trader.”

Ludlow riveted his eyes on the unmoved and manly countenance of his companion. There was a vague and undefined suspicion in the look; but it vanished, as the practised organs drank in the assurance, which so much physical promise afforded, of the aid of a bold and active mariner. Rather amused than offended by the freedom of the request, he turned upon his heel, and as they descended the bluff, on their way towards the place of landing, he continued the dialogue.

“You are truly from a distant ocean,” said the young captain of the Coquette, smiling like a man who apologizes to himself for an act of what he thought undue condescension, “if the exploits of a brigantine known by the name of the ‘Water-Witch,’ and of him who commands her, under the fit appellation of the ‘Skimmer of the Seas,’ have not yet reached your ears. It is now five summers, since orders have been in the colonies for the cruisers to be on the alert to hunt the picaroon; and it is even said, the daring smuggler has often braved the pennants of the narrow seas. ‘Twould be a bigger ship, not knighthood, to the lucky officer who should catch the knave!”

“He must drive a money-gaining trade, to run these risks, and to brave the efforts of so many skilful gentlemen! May I add to a presumption that your Honor already finds too bold, if one may judge by a displeased eye, by asking if report speaks to the face and other particulars of the person of this–free trader, one must call him, though freebooter should be a better word.”

“What matters the personal condition of a rogue?” said Captain Ludlow, who perhaps remembered that the freedom of their intercourse had been carried as far as comported with prudence.

“What matter, truly! I asked because the description answers a little to that of a man I once knew, in the seas of farther India, and who has long since disappeared, though no one can say whither he has gone. But this ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ is some Spaniard of the Main, or perhaps a Dutchman come from the country that is awash, in order to taste of terra-firma?”

“Spaniard of the southern coast never carried so bold a sail in these seas, nor was there ever known a Dutchman with so light a heel. The fellow is said to laugh at the swiftest cruiser out of England! As to his figure, I have heard little good of it. ‘Tis said, he is some soured officer of better days, who has quitted the intercourse of honest men, because roguery is so plainly written on his face, that he vainly tries to hide it.”

“Mine was a proper man, and one that need not have been ashamed to show his countenance among his fellows,” said he of the sash. “This cannot be the same, if indeed there be any on the coast.–Is’t known, your Honor, that the man is truly here?”

“So goes a rumor; though so many idle tales have led me before to seek the smuggler where he was not, that I give but little faith to the report.–The periagua has the wind more at west, and the cloud in the mouth of the Raritan is breaking into scud. The Alderman will have a lucky run of it!”

“And the gulls have gone more seaward–a certain sign of pleasant weather;” returned the other, glancing a quick but keen look over the horizon in the offing. “I believe our rover, with his light duck, has taken flight among them!”

“We will then go in pursuit. My ship is bound to sea; and it is time, Master Tiller, that I know in what berth you are willing to serve the Queen.”

“God bless her Majesty! Anne is a royal lady and she had a Lord High Admiral for her husband. As for a berth, Sir, one always wishes to be captain even though he may be compelled to eat his ration in the lee-scuppers. I suppose the first-lieutenancy is filled, to your Honor’s liking?”

“Sirrah, this is trifling; one of your years and experience need not be told, that commissions are obtained by service.”

“Under favor;–I confess the error. Captain Ludlow, you are a man of honor, and will not deceive a sailor who puts trust in your word.”

“Sailor, or landsman, he is safe who has the gage.”

“Then, Sir, I ask it. Suffer me to enter your ship; to look into my future messmates, and to judge of their characters; to see if the vessel suits my humor; and then to quit her, if I find it convenient.”

“Fellow,” said Ludlow, “this impudence almost surpasseth patience!”

“The request is reasonable, as can be shown;” gravely returned the unknown mariner. “Now, Captain Ludlow of the Coquette would gladly tie himself, for better for worse, to a fair lady who is lately gone on the water, and yet there are thousands who might be had with less difficulty.”

“Still deeper and deeper in thy effrontery–and what if this be true?”

“Sir, a ship is a seaman’s mistress–nay, when fairly under a pennant, with a war declared, he may be said to be wedded to her, lawfully or not. He becomes ‘bone of her bone, and flesh of her flesh, until death doth them part.’ To such a long compact, there should be liberty of choice. Has not your mariner a taste, as well as your lover? The harpings and counter of his ship are the waist and shoulders; the rigging, the ringlets; the cut and fit of the sails, the fashion of the millinery; the guns are always called the teeth, and her paint is the blush and bloom! Here is matter of choice, Sir; and, without leave to make it, I must wish your Honor a happy cruise, and the Queen a better servitor.”

“Why, Master Tiller,” cried Ludlow, laughing, “you trust too much to these stunted oaks, if you believe it exceeds my power to hunt you out of their cover, at pleasure. But I take you at your word. The Coquette shall receive you on these conditions, and with the confidence that a first-rate city belle would enter a country ball-room.”

“I follow in your Honor’s wake, without more words,” returned he of the sash, for the first time respectfully raising his canvas cap to the young commander. “Though not actually married, consider me a man betrothed.”

It is not necessary to pursue the discourse between the two seamen any further. It was maintained, and with sufficient freedom on the part of the inferior, until they reached the shore, and came in full view of the pennant of the Queen; when, with the tact of an old man-of-war’s man, he threw into his manner all the respect that was usually required by the difference of rank.

Half an hour later, the Coquette was rolling at a single anchor, as the puffs of wind came off the hills on her three top-sails; and shortly after, she was seen standing through the Narrows, with a fresh southwesterly breeze. In all these movements, there was nothing to attract attention. Notwithstanding the sarcastic allusions of Alderman Van Beverout, the cruiser was far from being idle; and her passage outward was a circumstance of so common occurrence, that it excited no comment among the boatmen of the bay, and the coasters, who alone witnessed her departure.

Chapter VII.

“–I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore wash’d with the furthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.”

Romeo And Juliet.

A happy mixture of land and water, seen by a bright moon, and beneath the sky of the fortieth degree of latitude, cannot fail to make a pleasing picture. Such was the landscape which the reader must now endeavor to present to his mind.

The wide estuary of Raritan is shut in from the winds and billows of the open sea, by a long, low, and narrow cape, or point, which, by a medley of the Dutch and English languages, that is by no means rare in the names of places that lie within the former territories of the United Provinces of Holland, is known by the name of Sandy-Hook. This tongue of land appears to have been made by the unremitting and opposing actions of the waves, on one side, and of the currents of the different rivers, that empty their waters into the bay, on the other. It is commonly connected with the low coast of New-Jersey, to the south; but there are periods, of many years in succession, during which there exists an inlet from the sea, between what may be termed the inner end of the cape, and the main-land. During these periods, Sandy-Hook, of course, becomes an island. Such was the fact at the time of which it is our business to write.

The outer, or ocean side of this low and narrow bank of sand, is a smooth and regular beach, like that seen on most of the Jersey coast, while the inner is indented, in a manner to form several convenient anchoring-grounds, for ships that seek a shelter from easterly gales. One of the latter is a circular and pretty cove, in which vessels of a light draught are completely embayed, and where they may, in safety, ride secure from any winds that blow. The harbor, or, as it is always called, the Cove, lies at the point where the cape joins the main, and the inlet just named communicates directly with its waters, whenever the passage is open. The Shrewsbury, a river of the fourth or fifth class, or in other words a stream of a few hundred feet in width, and of no great length, comes from the south, running nearly parallel with the coast, and becomes a tributary of the Bay, also, at a point near the Cove. Between the Shrewsbury and the sea, the land resembles that on the cape, being low and sandy, though not entirely without fertility. It is covered with a modest growth of pines and oaks, where it is not either subject to the labors of the husbandman, or in natural meadow. But the western bank of the river is an abrupt and high acclivity, which rises to the elevation of a mountain. It was near the base of the latter that Alderman Van Beverout, for reasons that may be more fully developed as we proceed in our tale, had seen fit to erect his villa, which, agreeably to a usage of Holland, he had called the Lust in Rust; an appellation that the merchant, who had read a few of the classics in his boyhood, was wont to say meant nothing more nor less than ‘Otium cum dignitate.’

If a love of retirement and a pure air had its influence in determining the selection of the burgher of Manhattan, he could not have made a better choice. The adjoining lands had been occupied early in the previous century, by a respectable family of the name of Hartshorne, which continues seated at the place, to the present hour. The extent of their possessions served, at that day, to keep others at a distance. If to this fact be added the formation and quality of the ground, which was, at so early a period, of trifling value for agricultural purposes, it will be seen there was as little motive, as there was opportunity, for strangers to intrude. As to the air it was refreshed by the breezes of the ocean, which was scarcely a mile distant; while it had nothing to render it unhealthy, or impure. With this sketch of the general features of the scene where so many of our incidents occurred, we shall proceed to describe the habitation of the Alderman, a little more in detail.

The villa of the Lust in Rust was a low, irregular edifice, in bricks, whitewashed to the color of the driven snow, and in a taste that was altogether Dutch. There were many gables and weather-cocks, a dozen small and twisted chimneys, with numberless facilities that were intended for the nests of storks. These airy sites were, however, untenanted, to the great admiration of the honest architect, who, like many others that bring with them into this hemisphere habits and opinions that are better suited to the other, never ceased expressing his surprise on the subject, though all the negroes of the neighborhood united in affirming there was no such bird in America. In front of the house, there was a narrow but an exceedingly neat lawn, encircled by shrubbery; while two old elms, that seemed coeval with the mountain, grew in the rich soil of which the base of the latter was composed. Nor was there a want of shade on any part of the natural terrace, that was occupied by the buildings. It was thickly sprinkled with fruit-trees, and here and there was a pine, or an oak, of the native growth. A declivity that was rather rapid fell away in front, to the level of the mouth of the river. In short, it was an ample but an unpretending country-house, in which no domestic convenience had been forgotten; while it had little to boast of in the way of architecture, except its rusty vanes and twisted chimneys. A few out-houses, for the accommodation of the negroes, were nigh; and nearer to the river, there were barns and stables, of dimensions and materials altogether superior to those that the appearance of the arable land, or the condition of the small farm, would seem to render necessary. The periagua, in which the proprietor had made his passage across the outer bay, lay at a small wooden wharf immediately below.

For the earlier hours of the evening, the flashing of candles, and a general and noisy movement among the blacks, had denoted the presence of the master of the villa. But the activity had gradually subsided: and before the clock struck nine, the manner in which the lights were distributed, and the general silence, showed that the party, most probably fatigued with their journey, had already separated for the night. The clamor of the negroes had ceased, and the quiet of deep sleep was already prevailing among their humble dwellings.

At the northern extremity of the villa, which, it will be remembered, leaned against the mountain, and facing the east, or fronting the river and the sea, there stood a little wing, even more deeply embowered in shrubbery and low trees, than the other parts of the edifice, and which was constructed altogether in a different style. This was a pavilion erected for the particular accommodation, and at the cost, of la belle Barberie. Here the heiress of the two fortunes was accustomed to keep her own little menage, during the weeks passed in the country; and here she amused herself, in those pretty and feminine employments that suited her years and tastes. In compliment to the beauty and origin of its inhabitant, the gallant Francois had christened this particular portion of the villa, la Cour des Fees a name that had gotten into general use, though somewhat corrupted in sound.

On the present occasion, the blinds of the principal apartment of the pavilion were open, and its mistress was still to be seen at one of the windows. Alida was at an age when the sex is most sensible of lively impressions, and she looked abroad on the loveliness of the landscape, and on the soft stillness of the night, with the pleasure that such a mind is wont to receive from objects of natural beauty.

There was a young moon, and a firmament glowing with a myriad of stars. The light was shed softly on the water, though, here and there, the ocean glittered with its rays. A nearly imperceptible, but what seamen call a heavy air came off the sea, bringing with it the refreshing coolness of the hour. The surface of the immense waste was perfectly unruffled, both within and without the barrier of sand that forms the cape; but the body of the element was heaving and setting heavily, in a manner to resemble the sleeping respiration of some being of huge physical frame. The roar of the surf, which rolled up in long and white curls upon the sands, was the only audible sound; but that was heavy and incessant, sometimes swelling on the air, hollow and threatening, and at others dying, in dull and distant murmurs, on the ear. There was a charm in these varieties of sound, and in the solemn stillness of such a night, that drew Alida into her little balcony; and she leaned forward, beyond its shadow of sweet-brier, to gaze at a part of the bay that was not visible, in the front view, from her windows.

La belle Barberie smiled, when she saw the dim masts and dark hull of a ship, which was anchored near the end of the cape, and within its protection. There was the look of womanly pride in her dark eye, and haply some consciousness of womanly power in the swell of her rich lip, while a taper finger beat the bar of the balcony, rapidly, and without consciousness of its employment.

“The loyal Captain Ludlow has quickly ended his cruise!” said the maiden aloud, for she spoke under the influence of a triumph that was too natural to be suppressed. “I shall become a convert to my uncle’s opinions, and think the Queen badly served.”

“He who serves one mistress, faithfully, has no light task,” returned a voice from among the shrubbery that grew beneath and nearly veiled the window; “but he, who is devoted to two, may well despair of success with both!”

Alida recoiled, and, at the next instant, she saw her place occupied by the commander of the Coquette. Before venturing to cross the low barrier that still separated him from the little parlor, the young man endeavored to read the eye of its occupant; and then, either mistaking its expression, or bold in his years and hopes, he entered the room.

Though certainly unused to have her apartment scaled with so little ceremony, there was neither apprehension, nor wonder, in the countenance of the fair descendant of the Huguenot. The blood mantled more richly on her cheek; and the brightness of an eye, that was never dull, increased, while her fine form became firm and commanding.

“I have heard that Captain Ludlow gained much of his renown by gallantry in boarding,” she said, in a voice whose meaning admitted of no misconception; “but I had hoped his ambition was satisfied with laurels so fairly won from the enemies of his country!”

“A thousand pardons, fairest Alida,” interrupted the youth; “you know the obstacles that the jealous watchfulness of your uncle opposes to my desire to speak with you.”

“They are then opposed in vain, for Alderman Van Beverout has weakly believed the sex and condition of his ward would protect her from these coups-de-main.”

“Nay, Alida; this is being more capricious than the winds! You know, too well, how far my suit is unpleasant to your gardian, to torture a slight departure from cold observances into cause of serious complaint. I had hoped–perhaps, I should say, I have presumed on the contents of your letter, for which I return a thousand thanks; but do not thus cruelly destroy expectations that have so lately been raised beyond the point, perhaps, which reason may justify.”

The glow, which had begun to subside on the face of la belle Barberie, again deepened, and for a moment it appeared as if her high self-dependence was a little weakened. After an instant of reflection, however, she answered steadily, though not entirely without emotion.

“Reason, Captain Ludlow, has limited female propriety within narrow limits,” she said. “In answering your letter, I have consulted good-nature more than prudence; and I find that you are not slow in causing me to repent the error.”

“If I ever cause you to repent confidence in me, sweet Alida, may disgrace in my profession, and the distrust of the whole sex, be my punishment! But, have I not reason to complain of this inconstancy, on your part? Ought I to expect so severe a reprimand–severe, because cold and ironical–for an offence, venial as the wish to proclaim my gratitude?”

“Gratitude!” repeated Alida, and this time her wonder was not feigned. “The word is strong, Sir; and it expresses more than an act of courtesy, so simple as that which may attend the lending a volume of popular poetry, can have any right to claim.”

“I have strangely misconceived the meaning of the letter, or this has been a day of folly!” said Ludlow, endeavoring to swallow his discontent. “But, no; I have your own words to refute that averted eye and cold look; and, by the faith of a sailor! Alida, I will believe your deliberate and well-reflected thoughts, before these capricious fancies, which are unworthy of your nature. Here are the very words; I shall not easily part with the flattering hopes they convey!”

La belle Barberie now regarded the young man in open amazement. Her color changed; for of the indiscretion of writing, she knew she was not guiltless,–but of having written in terms to justify the confidence of the other, she felt no consciousness. The customs of the age, the profession of her suitor, and the hour, induced her to look steadily in to his face, to see whether the man stood before her in all the decency of his reason. But Ludlow had the reputation of being exempt from a vice that was then but too common among seamen, and there was nothing in his ingenuous and really handsome features, to cause her to distrust his present discretion. She touched a bell, and signed to her companion to be seated.

“Francois,” said his mistress, when the old valet but half awake, entered the apartment, “fais moi le plaisir de m’apporter de cette eau de la fontaine du bosquet, et du vin–le Capitaine Ludlow a soif; et rapelle-toi, bon Francois, il ne faut pas deranger mon oncle a cette heure; il doit etre bien fatigue de son voyage.”

When her respectful and respectable servitor had received his commission and departed, Alida took a seat herself, in the confidence of having deprived the visit of Ludlow of its clandestine character, and at the same time having employed the valet on an errand that would leave her sufficient leisure, to investigate the inexplicable meaning of her companion.

“You have my word, Captain Ludlow, that this unseasonable appearance in the pavilion, is indiscreet, not to call it cruel,” she said, so soon as they were again alone; “but that you have it, in any manner, to justify your imprudence, I must continue to doubt until confronted by proof.”

“I had thought to have made a very different use of this,” returned Ludlow, drawing a letter,–we admit it with some reluctance in one so simple and so manly,–from his bosom: “and even now, I take shame in producing it, though at your own orders.

“Some magic has wrought a marvel, or the scrawl has no such importance,” observed Alida, taking a billet that she now began to repent having ever written. “The language of politeness and female reserve must admit of strange perversions, or all who read are not the best interpreters.”

La belle Barberie ceased speaking, for the instant her eye fell on the paper, an absorbing and intense curiosity got the better of her resentment. We shall give the contents of the letter, precisely in the words which caused so much amazement, and possibly some little uneasiness, to the fair creature who was perusing it.

“The life of a seaman,” said the paper, in a delicate and beautiful female hand, “is one of danger and exposure. It inspires confidence in woman, by the frankness to which it gives birth, and it merits indulgence by its privations. She who writes this, is not insensible to the merit of men of this bold calling. Admiration for the sea, and for those who live on it has been her weakness through life; and her visions of the future, like her recollections of the past, are not entirely exempt from a contemplation of its pleasures. The usages of different nations–glory in arms–change of scene–with constancy in the affections, all sweetened by affluence, are temptations too strong for a female imagination, and they should not be without their influence on the judgment of man. Adieu.”

This note was read, re-perused, and for the third time conned, ere Alida ventured to raise her eyes to the face of the expectant young man.

“And this indelicate and unfeminine rhapsody, Captain Ludlow has seen proper to ascribe to me!” she said, while her voice trembled between pride and mortification.

“To whom else can I impute it? No other, lovely Alida, could utter language so charming, in words so properly chosen.”

The long lashes of the maiden played quickly above their dark organs, and then, conquering feelings that were strangely in contradiction to each other, she said with dignity, turning to a little ebony escritoire which lay beside her dressing-box–

“My correspondence is neither very important nor very extensive; but such as it is, happily for the reputation of the writer’s taste, if not for her sanity, I believe it is in my power to show the trifle I thought it decorous to write, in reply to your own letter. Here is a copy,” she added, opening what in fact was a draught, and reading aloud.

“I thank Capt. Ludlow for his attention in affording me an opportunity of reading a narrative of the cruel deeds of the buccaneers. In addition to the ordinary feelings of humanity, one cannot but regret, that men so heartless are to be found in a profession that is commonly thought to be generous and tender of the weak. We will, however, hope, that the very wicked and cowardly, among seamen, exist only as foils to render the qualities of the very bold and manly more conspicuous. No one can be more sensible of this truth than the friends of Captain Ludlow,” the voice of Alida fell a little, as she came to this sentence, ‘who has not now to earn a reputation for mercy. In return, I send the copy of the Cid, which honest Francois affirms to be superior to all other poems, not even excepting Homer–a book, which I believe he is innocent of calumniating, from ignorance of its contents. Again thanking Capt. Ludlow for this instance of his repeated attentions I beg he will keep the volume, until he shall return from his intended cruise.”

“This note is but a copy of the one you have, or ought to have,” said the niece of the Alderman, as she raised her glowing face from leaning over the paper, “though it is not signed, like that, with the name of Alida de Barberie.”

When this explanation was over, both parties sat looking at each other, in silent amazement. Still Alida saw, or thought she saw, that, notwithstanding the previous professions of her admirer, the young man rejoiced he had been deceived. Respect for delicacy and reserve in the other sex is so general and so natural among men, that they who succeed the most in destroying its barriers, rarely fail to regret their triumph; and he who truly loves can never long exult in any violation of propriety, in the object of his affections, even though the concession be made in his own favor. Under the influence of this commendable and healthful feeling, Ludlow, while he was in some respects mortified at the turn affairs had taken, felt sensibly relieved from a load of doubt, to which the extraordinary language of the letter, he believed his mistress to have written, had given birth. His companion read the state of his mind, in a countenance that was frank as face of sailor could be; and though secretly pleased to gain her former place in his respect, she was also vexed and wounded that he had ever presumed to distrust her reserve. She still held the inexplicable billet and her eyes naturally sought the lines. A sudden thought seemed to strike her mind, and returning the paper, she said coldly–

“Captain Ludlow should know his correspondent better; I much mistake if this be the first of her communications.”

The young man colored to the temples, and hid his face, for a moment, in the hollow of his hands.

“You admit the truth of my suspicions,” continued la belle Barberie, “and cannot be insensible of my justice, when I add, that henceforth——“

“Listen to me, Alida,” cried the youth, half breathless in his haste to interrupt a decision that he dreaded; “hear me, and as Heaven is my judge, you shall hear only truth. I confess this is not the first of the letters, written in the same hand–perhaps I should say in the same spirit–but, on the honor of a loyal officer, I affirm, that until circumstances led me to think myself so happy–so–very happy,–“

“I understand you, Sir: the work was anonymous, until you saw fit to inscribe my name as its author. Ludlow! Ludlow! how meanly have you thought of the woman you profess to love!”

“That were impossible! I mingle little with those who study the finesse of life; and loving, as I do, my noble profession, Alida, was it so unnatural to believe that another might view it with the same eyes? But since you disavow the letter–nay, your disavowal is unnecessary–I see my vanity has even deceived me in the writing–but since the delusion is over, I confess that I rejoice it is not so.”

La belle Barberie smiled, and her countenance grew brighter. She enjoyed the triumph of knowing that she merited the respect of her suitor, and it was a triumph heightened by recent mortification. Then succeeded a pause of more than a minute. The embarrassment of the silence was happily interrupted by the return of Francois.

“Mam’selle Alide, voici de l’eau de la fontaine,” said the valet; “mais Monsieur votre oncle s’esi couche, et il a mis la clef de la cave an vin dessous son oreiller. Ma foi, ce n’est pas facile d’avoir du bon vin du tout, en Amerique, mais apres que Monsieur le maire s’est couche, c’est toujours impossible; voila!”

“N’importe, mon cher; le capitaine va partir, et il n’a plus soif.”

“Dere is assez de jin,” continued the valet, who felt for the captain’s disappointment, “mais, Monsieur Loodle, have du gout, an’ he n’aime pas so strong liqueur.”

“He has swallowed already more than was necessary for one occasion,” said Alida, smiling on her admirer, in a manner that left him doubtful whether he ought most to repine, or to rejoice. “Thank you, good Francois; your duty for the night shall end with lighting the captain to the door.”

Then saluting the young commander, in a manner that would not admit of denial, la belle Barberie dismissed her lover and the valet, together.

“You have a pleasant office, Monsieur Francois,” said the former, as he was lighted to the outer door of the pavilion; “it is one that many a gallant gentleman would envy.”

“Oui, Sair. It be grand plaisir to serve Mam’selle Alide. Je porte de fan, de book, mais quant an vin, Monsieur le Capitaine, parole d’honneur, c’est toujours impossible apres que l’Aldermain s’est couche.”

“Ay–the book–I think you had the agreeable duty, to-day, of carrying the book of la Belle?”

“Vraiment, oui! ‘Twas ouvrage de Monsieur Pierre Corneille. On pretend, que Monsieur Shak-a-spear en a emprunte d’assez beaux sentiments!”

“And the paper between the leaves?–you were charged also with that note, good Francois?”

The valet paused, shrugged his shoulders, and aid one of his long yellow fingers on the plane of an enormous aquiline nose, while he seemed to muse. Then shaking his head perpendicularly, he preceded the captain, as before, muttering, as usual, half in French and half in English,–

“For le papier, I know, rien du tout; c’est bien possible, parceque, voyez vous, Monsieur le Capitaine, Mam’selle Alide did say, prenez-y garde; but I no see him, depuis. Je suppose ’twas beaux compliments ecrits on de vers of M. Pierre Corneille. Quel genie que celui de cet homme la!–n’est ce pas, Monsieur?”

“It is of no consequence, good Francois,” said Ludlow, slipping a guinea into the hands of the valet. “If you should ever discover what became of that paper, however, you will oblige me by letting me know. Good night; mes devoirs a la Belle!”

“Bon soir, Monsieur le Capitaine; c’est un brave Monsieur que celui-la, et de tres bonne famille! Il n’a pas de si grandes terres, que Monsieur le Patteroon, pourtant, on dit, qu’il doit avoir de jolies maisons et assez de rentes publiques! J’aime a servir un si genereux et loyal maitre, mais, malheureusement, il est marin! M. de Barberie n’avait pas trop d’amitie pour les gens de cette profession la.”

Chapter VIII.

“–Well, Jessica, go in;
Perhaps, I will return immediately; Do as I bid you,
Shut doors after you: Fast bind, fast find; A proverb never stale, in thrifty mind.”

Merchant of Venice.

The decision, with which la demoiselle Barberie had dismissed her suitor, was owing to some consciousness that she had need of opportunity to reflect on the singular nature of the events which had just happened, no less than to a sense of the impropriety of his visiting her at that hour, and in a manner so equivocal. But, like others who act from feverish impulses, when alone the maiden repented of her precipitation; and she remembered fifty questions which might aid in clearing the affair of its mystery, that she would now gladly put. It was too late, however, for she had heard Ludlow take his leave, and had listened, in breathless silence, to his footstep, as he passed the shrubbery of her little lawn. Francois reappeared at the door, to repeat his wishes for her rest and happiness, and then she believed she was finally alone for the night, since the ladies of that age and country, were little apt to require the assistance of their attendants, in assuming, or in divesting themselves of, their ordinary attire.

It was still early, and the recent interview had deprived Alida of all inclination for sleep. She placed the lights in a distant corner of the apartment, and approached a window. The moon had so far changed its position, as to cast a different light upon the water. The hollow washing of the surf, the dull but heavy breathing of the air from the sea, and the soft shadows of the trees and mountain, were much the same. The Coquette lay, as before, at her anchor near the cape, and the Shrewsbury glittered towards the south, until its surface was concealed by the projection of a high and nearly perpendicular bluff.

The stillness was profound, for, with the exception of the dwelling of the family who occupied the estate nearest the villa, there was no other habitation within some miles of the place. Still the solitude of the situation was undisturbed by any apprehension of danger, or any tradition of violence from rude and lawless men. The peaceable character of the colonists, who dwelt in the interior country, was proverbial, and their habits simple; while the ocean was never entered by those barbarians, who then rendered some of the seas of the other hemisphere as fearful as they were pleasant.

Notwithstanding this known and customary character of tranquillity, and the lateness of the hour, Alida had not been many moments in her balcony, before she heard the sound of oars. The stroke was measured, and the noise low and distant, but it was too familiar to be mistaken. She wondered at the expedition of Ludlow, who was not accustomed to show such haste in quitting her presence, and leaned over the railing to catch a glimpse of his departing boat. Each moment she expected to see the little bark issue from out of the shadows of the land, into the sheet of brightness which stretched nearly to the cruiser. She gazed long, and in vain, for no barge appeared, and yet the sound had become inaudible. A light still hung at the peak of the Coquette, a sign that the commander was out of his vessel.

The view of a fine ship, seen by the aid of the moon, with its symmetry of spars, and its delicate tracery of cordage, and the heavy and grand movements of the hull as it rolls on the sluggish billows of a calm sea, is ever a pleasing and indeed an imposing spectacle. Alida knew that more, than a hundred human beings slept within the black and silent mass, and her thoughts insensibly wandered to the business of their daring lives, their limited abode, and yet wandering existence, their frank and manly qualities, their devotion to the cause of those who occupied the land, their broken and interrupted connexion with the rest of the human family, and finally to those weakened domestic ties, and to that reputation for inconstancy, which are apparently a natural consequence of all. She sighed, and her eye wandered from the ship to that ocean on which it was constructed to dwell. From the distant, low, and nearly imperceptible shore of the island of Nassau, to the coast of New-Jersey, there was one broad and untenanted waste. Even the sea-fowl rested his tired wing, and slept tranquilly on the water. The broad space appeared like some great and unfrequented desert, or rather like a denser and more material copy of the firmament by which it was canopied.

It has been mentioned that a stunted growth of oaks and pines covered much of the sandy ridge that formed the cape. The same covering furnished a dark setting to the waters of the Cove. Above this outline of wood, which fringed the margin of the sea. Alida now fancied she saw an object in motion. At first, she believed some ragged and naked tree, of which the coast had many, was so placed as to deceive her vision, and had thrown its naked lines upon the back-ground of water, in a manner to assume the shape and tracery of a light-rigged vessel. But when the dark and symmetrical spars were distinctly seen, gliding past objects that were known to be stationary, it was impossible to doubt their character. The maiden wondered, and her surprise was not unmixed with apprehension. It seemed as if the stranger for such the vessel must needs be, was recklessly approaching a surf, that, in its most tranquil moments, was dangerous to such a fabric, and that he steered, unconscious of hazard, directly upon the land. Even the movement was mysterious and unusual. Sails there were none; and yet the light and lofty spars were soon hid behind a thicket that covered a knoll near the margin of the sea. Alida expected, each moment, to hear the cry of mariners in distress, and then, as the minutes passed and no such fearful sound interrupted the stillness of the night, she began to bethink her of those lawless rovers, who were known to abound among the Carribean isles, and who were said sometimes even to enter and to refit, in the smaller and more secret inlets of the American continent. The tales, coupled with the deeds, character, and fate of the notorious Kidd, were then still recent, and although magnified and colored by vulgar exaggerations, as all such tales are known to be, enough was believed, by the better instructed, to make his life and death the subject of many curious and mysterious rumors. At this moment, she would have gladly recalled the young commander of the Coquette, to apprize him of the enemy that was nigh; and then, ashamed of terrors that she was fain to hope savored more of woman’s weakness than of truth, she endeavored to believe the whole some ordinary movement of a coaster, who, familiar with his situation, could rot possibly be either in want of aid, or an object of alarm. Just as this natural and consoling conclusion crossed her mind, she very audibly heard a step in her pavilion. It seemed near the door of the room she occupied. Breathless, more with the excitement of her imagination, than with any actual fear created by this new cause of alarm, the maiden quitted the balcony, and stood motionless to listen. The door, in truth, was opened, with singular caution, and, for an instant, Alida saw nothing but a confused area in the centre of which appeared the figure of a menacing and rapacious freebooter.

“Northern lights and moonshine!” growled Alderman Van Beverout, for it was no other than the uncle of the heiress, whose untimely and unexpected visit had caused her so much alarm. “This sky-watching, and turning of night into day, will be the destruction of thy beauty, niece; and then we shall see how plenty Patroons are for husbands! A bright eye and a blooming cheek are thy stock in trade, girl; and she is a spendthrift of both, who is out of her bed when the clock hath struck ten.”

“Your discipline would deprive many a beauty of the means of using her power,” returned la demoiselle, smiling, as much at the folly of her recent fears, as with affection for her reprover. “They tell me, that ten is the witching time of night, for the necromancy of the dames of Europe.”

“Witch me no witches! The name reminds one of the cunning Yankees, a race that would outwit Lucifer himself, if left to set the conditions to their bargain. Here is the Patroon, wishing to let in a family of the knaves among the honest Dutchmen of his manor; and we have just settled a dispute between us, on this subject, by making the lawful trial.”

“Which, it may be proper to hope, dearest uncle, was not the trial by battle?”

“Peace and olive-branches, no! The Patroon of Kinderhook is the last man in the Americas, that is likely to suffer by the blows of Myndert Van Beverout. I challenged the boy to hold a fine eel, that the blacks have brought out of the river to help in breaking our morning fasts, that it might be seen if he were fit to deal with the slippery rogues. By the merit of the peaceable St. Nicholas! but the son of old Hendrick Van Staats had a busy time of it! The lad griped the fish, as the ancient tradition has it that thy uncle clenched the Holland florin, when my father put it between my fingers, within the month, in order to see if the true saving grace was likely to abide in the family for another generation. My heart misgave me for a moment; for young Oloff has the fist of a vice, and I thought the goodly names of the Harmans, and Rips, Corneliuses, and Dircks of the manor rent-roll were likely to be contaminated by the company of an Increase or a Peleg; but just as the Patroon thought he had the watery viper by the throat, the fish gave an unexpected twist, and slid through his fingers by the tail. Flaws and loop-holes! but that experiment has as much wisdom as wit in it!”

“And to me, it seemeth better, now that Providence has brought all the colonies under one government, that these prejudices should be forgotten. We are a people, sprung from many nations, and our effort should be to preserve the liberality and intelligence, while we forget the weaknesses, of all.”

“Bravely said, for the child of a Huguenot! But I defy the man, who brings prejudice to my door. I like a merry trade, and a quick calculation. Let me see the man in all New-England, that can tell the color of a balance-sheet quicker than one that can be named, and I’ll gladly hunt up the satchel and go to school again. I love a man the better for looking to his own interests, I; and, yet common honesty teaches us, that there should be a convention between men, beyond which none of reputation and character ought to go.”

“Which convention shall be understood, by every man, to be the limits of his own faculties; by which means the dull may rival the quick of thought. I fear me, uncle, there should be an eel kept on every coast, to which a trader comes!”

“Prejudice and conceit, child, acting on a drowsy head; ’tis time thou seekest thy pillow, and in the morning we shall see if young Oloff of the Manor shall have better success with thy favor, than with the prototype of the Jonathans. Here, put out these flaring candles, and take a modest lamp to light thee to thy bed. Glaring windows, so near midnight give a house an extravagant name, in the neighborhood.”

“Our reputation for sobriety may suffer in the opinion of the eels,” returned Alida, laughing, “but here are few others, I believe, to call us dissipated.”

“One never knows–one never knows–” muttered the Alderman, extinguishing the two large candles of his niece, and substituting his own little handlamp in their place. “This broad light only invites to wakefulness, while the dim taper I leave is good as a sleeping draught. Kiss me, wilful one, and draw thy curtains close, for the negroes will soon rise to load the periagua, that they may go up with the tide to the city. The noise of the chattering black guards may disturb thy slumbers!”

“Truly, it would seem there was little here to invite such active navigation,” returned Alida, saluting the cheek of her uncle at his order. “The love of trade must be strong, when it finds the materials of commerce, in a solitude like this.”

“Thou hast divined the reason, child. Thy father Monsieur de Barberie had his peculiar opinions on the subject, and doubtless he did not fail to transmit some of them to his offspring. And yet, when the Huguenot was driven from his chateau and his clayey Norman lands, the man had no distaste, himself, for an account-current, provided the balance was in his own favor. Nations and characters! I find but little difference, after all, in trade; whether it be driven with a Mohawk for his pack of furs, or with a Seigneur, who has been driven from his lands. Each strives to get the profit on his own side of the account, and the loss on that of his neighbor. So rest thee well, girl; and remember that matrimony is no more than a capital bargain, on whose success depends the sum-total of a woman’s comfort–and so once more, good night.”

La belle Barberie attended her uncle, dutifully to the door of her pavilion, which she bolted after him; and then, finding her little apartment gloomy by the light of the small and feeble lamp he had left, she was pleased to bring its flame in contact with the wicks of the two candles he had just extinguished. Placing the three, near each other, on a table, the maiden again drew nigh a window. The unexpected interview with the Alderman had consumed several minutes, and she was curious to know more of the unaccountable movements of the mysterious vessel.

The same deep silence reigned about the villa, and the slumbering ocean was heaving and setting as heavily as before. Alida again looked for the boat of Ludlow; but her eye ran over the whole distance of the bright and broad streak, between her and the cruiser, in vain. There was the slight ripple of the water in the glittering of the moon’s rays, but no speck, like that the barge would make, was visible. The lantern still shone at the cruiser’s peak. Once, indeed, she thought the sound of oars was again to be heard, and much nearer than before; and yet no effort of her quick and roving sight could detect the position of the boat. But to all these doubts succeeded an alarm which sprang from a new and very different source.

The existence of the inlet, which united the ocean with the waters of the Cove, was but little known, except to the few whose avocations kept them near the spot. The pass being much more than half the time closed, its varying character, and the little use that could be made of it under any circumstances, prevented the place from being a subject of general interest, with the coasters. Even when open the depth of its water was uncertain, since a week or two of calms, or of westerly winds, would permit the tides to clean its channel, while a single easterly gale was sufficient to choke the entire inlet with sand. No wonder, then, that Alida felt an amazement which was not quite free from superstitious alarm when, at that hour and in such a scene, she saw a vessel gliding, as it were unaided by sails or sweeps, out of the thicket that fringed the ocean side of the Cove, into its very centre.

The strange and mysterious craft was a brigantine of that mixed construction, which is much used, even in the most ancient and classical seas of the other hemisphere, and which is supposed to unite the advantages of both a square and of a fore-and-aft rigged vessel, but which is nowhere seen to display the same beauty of form, and symmetry of equipment, as on the coasts of this Union. The first and smallest of its masts had all the complicated machinery of a ship, with its superior and inferior spars, its wider reaching, though light and manageable yards, and its various sails, shaped and arranged to meet every vicissitude and caprice of the winds; while the latter, or larger of the two, rose like the straight trunk of a pine from the hull, simple in its cordage, and spreading a single sheet of canvas, that, in itself, was sufficient to drive the fabric with vast velocity through the water. The hull was low, graceful in its outlines, dark as the raven’s wing, and so modelled as to float on its element like a sea-gull riding the billows. There were many delicate and attenuated lines among its spars, which were intended to spread broader folds of canvas to the light airs, when necessary; but these additions to the tracery of the machine, which added so much to its beauty by day, were now, seen as it was by the dimmer and more treacherous rays of the moon, scarcely visible. In short, as the vessel had entered the Cove floating with the tide, and it was so singularly graceful and fairy-like in form, that Alida, at first, was fain to discredit her senses, and to believe it no more than some illusion of the fancy. Like most others, she was ignorant of the temporary inlet, and, under the circumstances, it was not difficult to lend a momentary credence to so pleasing an idea.

But the delusion was only momentary. The brigantine turned in its course, and, gliding into the part of the Cove where the curvature of the shores offered most protection from the winds and waves, and perhaps from curious eyes, its motion ceased. A heavy plunge in the water was audible even at the villa, and Alida then knew that an anchor had fallen into the bay.

Although the coast of North America offered little to invite lawless depredation, and it was in general believed to be so safe, yet the possibility that cupidity might be invited by the retired situation of her uncle’s villa, did not fail to suggest itself to the mind of the young heiress. Both she and her guardian were reputed to be wealthy; and disappointment, on the open sea, might drive desperate men to the commission of crimes that in more prosperous moments would not suggest themselves. The freebooters were said to have formerly visited the coast of the neighboring island, and men were just then commencing those excavations for hidden treasures and secreted booty, which have been, at distant intervals, continued to our own time.

There are situations in which the mind insensibly gives credit to impressions, that the reason in common disapproves. The present was one in which Alide de Barberie, though of a resolute and even a masculine understanding, felt disposed to believe there might be truth in those tales, that she had hitherto heard, only to deride. Still keeping her eye on the Motionless vessel, she drew back into her window and wrapped the curtain round her form, undecided whether to alarm the family or not, and acting under a vague impression that, though so distant, her person might be seen. She was hardly thus secreted, before the shrubbery was violently agitated, a footstep was heard in the lawn beneath her window, and then one leaped so lightly into the balcony, and from the balcony into the centre of the room, that the passage of the figure seemed like the flitting of some creature of supernatural attributes.

Chapter IX.

“Why look you, how you stare!
I would be friends with you, and have your love.”

Shylock.

The first impulse of Alida, at this second invasion of her pavilion, was certainly to flee. But timidity was not her weakness, and as natural firmness gave her time to examine the person of the individual who had so unceremoniously entered, curiosity aided in inducing her to remain. Perhaps a vague, but a very natural, expectation that she was again to dismiss the commander of the Coquette, had its influence on her first decision. In order that the reader may judge how far this boldness was excusable, we shall describe the person of the intruder.

The stranger was one in the very bud of young and active manhood. His years could not have exceeded two-and-twenty, nor would he probably have been thought so old, had not his features been shaded by a rich, brown hue, that in some degree, served as a foil to a natural complexion, which, though never fair, was still clear and blooming. A pair of dark, bushy, and jet-black, silken whiskers, that were in singular contrast to eye-lashes and brows of almost feminine beauty and softness, aided also in giving a decided expression to a face that might otherwise have been wanting in some of that character which is thought essential to comeliness in man. The forehead was smooth and low; the nose, though prominent and bold in outline, of exceeding delicacy in detail; the mouth and lips full, a little inclined to be arch, though the former appeared as if it might at times be pensive; the teeth were even and unsullied; and the chin was small, round, dimpled, and so carefully divested of the distinguishing mark of the sex, that one could fancy nature had contributed all its growth to adorn the neighboring cheeks and temples. If to these features be added a pair of full and brilliant coal-black eyes, that appeared to vary their expression at their master’s will, the reader will at once see, that the privacy of Alida had been invaded by one whose personal attractions might, under other circumstances, have been dangerous to the imagination of a female, whose taste was in some degree influenced by a standard created by her own loveliness.

The dress of the stranger was as unique as his personal attractions were extraordinary. The fashion of the garments resembled that of those already described as worn by the man who has announced himself as Master Tiller; but the materials were altogether richer, and, judging only from the exterior, more worthy of the wearer.

The light frock was of a thick purple silk, of an Indian manufacture, cut with exceeding care to fit the fine outlines of a form that was rather round, than square; active, than athletic. The loose trowsers were of a fine white jean, the cap of scarlet velvet, ornamented with gold, and the body was belted with a large cord of scarlet silk, twisted in the form of a ship’s cable. At the ends of the latter, little anchors, wrought in bullion, were attached as gay and fitting appendages.

In contrast to an attire so whimsical and uncommon, however, a pair of small and richly-mounted pistols were at the stranger’s girdle; and the haft, of a curiously-carved Asiatic dagger was seen projecting, rather ostentatiously, from between the folds of the upper garment.

“What cheer! what cheer!” cried a voice, that was more in harmony with the appearance of the speaker, than with the rough, professional salutation he uttered, so soon as he had fairly landed in the centre of Alida’s little saloon. “Come forth, my dealer in the covering of the beaver, for here is one who brings gold to thy coffers. Ha! now that this trio of lights hath done its office, it may be extinguished, lest it pilot others to the forbidden haven!”

“Your pardon, Sir,” said the mistress of the pavilion, advancing from behind the curtain, with an air of coolness that her beating heart had nigh betrayed to be counterfeit; “having so unexpected a guest to entertain, the additional candles are necessary.”

The start, recoil, and evident alarm of the intruder, lent Alida a little more assurance; for courage is a quality that appears to gain force, in a degree proportioned to the amount in which it is abstracted from the dreaded object. Still, when she saw a hand on a pistol, the maiden was again about to flee; nor was her resolution to remain confirmed, until she met the mild and alluring eye of the intruder, as, quitting his hold of the weapon, he advanced with an air so mild and graceful, as to cause curiosity to take the place of fear.

“Though Alderman Van Beverout be not punctual to his appointment,” said the gay young stranger “he has more than atoned for his absence by the substitute he sends. I hope she comes authorized to arrange the whole of our treaty?”

“I claim no right to hear, or to dictate, in matters not my own. My utmost powers extend to expressing a desire, that this pavilion may be exempt from the discussion of affairs, as much beyond my knowledge as they are separated from my interests.”

“Then why this signal?” demanded the stranger, pointing, with a serious air, to the lights that still burned near each other in face of an open window “It is awkward to mislead, in transactions that are so delicate!”

“Your allusion, Sir, is not understood. These lights are no more than what are usually seen in my apartment at this hour–with, indeed, the addition of a lamp, left by my uncle, Alderman Van Beverout.”

“Your uncle!” exclaimed the other, advancing so near Alida, as to cause her to retire a step, his countenance expressing a deep and newly-awakened interest–“your uncle!–This, then, is one far-famed and justly extolled; la belle Barberie!” he added, gallantly lifting his cap, as if he had just discovered the condition and the unusual personal attractions of his companion.

It was not in nature for Alida to be displeased. All her fancied causes of terror were forgotten; for, in addition to their improbable and uncertain nature, the stranger had sufficiently given her to understand, that he was expected by her uncle. If we add, that the singular attraction and softness of his face and voice aided in quieting her fears, we shall probably do no violence either to the truth or to a very natural feeling. Profoundly ignorant of the details of commerce, and accustomed to hear its mysteries extolled as exercising the keenest and best faculties of man, she saw nothing extraordinary in those who were actively engaged in the pursuit having reasons for concealing their movements from the jealousy and rivalry of competitors. Like most of her sex, she had great dependence on the characters of those she loved; and, though nature, education, and habit, had created a striking difference between the guardian and his ward, their harmony had never been interrupted by any breach of affection.

“This then is la belle Barberie!” repeated the young sailor, for such his dress denoted him to be, studying her features with an expression of face, in which pleasure vied with evident and touching melancholy. “Fame hath done no injustice, for here is all that might justify the folly or madness of man!”

“This is familiar dialogue for an utter stranger,” returned Alida, blushing, though the quick dark eye that seemed to fathom all her thoughts, saw it was not in anger. “I do not deny that the partiality of friends, coupled with my origin, have obtained the appellation, which is given, however, more in playfulness than in any serious opinion of its being merited–and now, as the hour is getting late, and this visit is at least unusual, you will permit me to seek my uncle.”

“Stay!” interrupted the stranger–“it is long–very long, since so soothing, so gentle a pleasure has been mine! This is a life of mysteries, beautiful Alida, though its incidents seem so vulgar, and of every-day occurrence. There is mystery in its beginning and its end; in its impulses; its sympathies and all its discordant passions. No, do not quit me. I am from off the sea, where none but coarse and vulgar-minded men have long been my associates; and thy presence is a balm to a bruised and wounded spirit.”

Interested, if possible, more by the touching and melancholy tones of the speaker, than by his extraordinary language, Alida hesitated. Her reason told her that propriety, and even prudence, required she should apprize her uncle of the stranger’s presence; but propriety and prudence lose much of their influence, when female curiosity is sustained by a secret and powerful sympathy. Her own eloquent eye met the open and imploring look of organs, that seemed endowed with the fabled power to charm; and while her judgment told her there was so much to alarm her senses pleaded powerfully in behalf of the gentle mariner.

“An expected guest of my uncle will have, leisure to repose, after the privations and hardships of so weary a voyage,” she said. “This is a house whose door is never closed against the rites of hospitality.”

“If there is aught about my person or attire, to alarm you,” returned the stranger, earnestly, “speak, that it may be cast away–These arms–these foolish arms, had better not have been here,” he added, casting the pistols and dagger indignantly, through a window, into the shrubbery; “Ah! if you knew how unwillingly I would harm any–and, least of all, a woman–you would not fear me!”

“I fear you not,” returned la Belle, firmly. “I dread the misconceptions of the world.”

“What world is here to disturb us? Thou livest in thy pavilion, beautiful Alida, remote from towns and envy, like some favored damsel, over whose happy and charmed life presides a benignant genius. See, here are all the pretty materials, with which thy sex seeks innocent and happy amusement. Thou touchest this lute, when melancholy renders thought pleasing; here are colors to mock, or to eclipse, the beauties of the fields and the mountain, the flower, and the tree; and from these pages are culled thoughts, pure and rich in imagery, as thy spirit is spotless, and thy person lovely!”

Alida listened in amazement; for, while he spoke the young mariner touched the different articles he named, with a melancholy interest, which seemed to say how deeply he regretted that fortune had placed him in a profession, in which their use was nearly denied.

“It is not common for those who live on the sea, to feel this interest in the trifles which constitute a woman’s pleasure,” she said, lingering, spite of her better resolution to depart.

“The spirit of our rude and boisterous trade is then known to you?”

“It were not possible for the relation of a merchant, so extensively known as my uncle, to be ignorant altogether of mariners.”

“Ay, here is proof of it,” returned the stranger, speaking so quick as again to betray how sensitively his mind was constructed. “The History of the American Buccaneers is a rare book to be found in a lady’s library! What pleasure can a mind like that of la belle Barberie find in these recitals of bloody violence?”

“What pleasure, truly!” returned Alida, half tempted, by the wild and excited eye of her companion, not withstanding all the contradictory evidence which surrounded him, to believe she was addressing one of the very rovers in question. “The book was lent me by a brave seaman, who holds himself in readiness to repress their depredations; and while reading of so much wickedness, I endeavor to recall the devotion of those who risk their lives, in order to protect the weak and innocent–My uncle will be angered, should I longer delay to apprize him of your presence.”

“A single moment! It is long–very long, since I have entered a sanctuary like this! Here is music; and there the frame for the gaudy tambour–these windows look on a landscape, soft as thine own nature; and yonder ocean can be admired without dreading its terrific power, or feeling disgust at its coarser scenes. Thou shouldst be happy, here!”

The stranger turned, and perceived that he was alone. Disappointment was strongly painted on his handsome face; but, ere there was time for second thought, another voice was heard grumbling at the door of the saloon.

“Compacts and treaties! What, in the name of good faith, hath brought thee hither? Is this the way to keep a cloak on our movements? or dost suppose that the Queen will knight me, for being known as thy correspondent?”

“Lanterns and false-beacons!” returned the other, mimicking the voice of the disconcerted burgher, and pointing to the lights that still stood where last described. “Can the port be entered without respecting the land-marks and signals?”

“This comes of moonlight and sentiment! When the girl should have been asleep, she is up, gazing at the stars, and disconcerting a burgher’s speculations–But fear thee not, Master Seadrift; my niece has discretion, and if we have no better pledge for her silence, there is that of necessity; since there is no one here for a confidant, but her old Norman valet, and the Patroon of Kinderhook, both of whom are dreaming of other matter than a little gainful traffic.”

“Fear thee not, Alderman;” returned the other, still maintaining his air of mockery. “We have the pledge of character, if no other; since the uncle cannot part with reputation, without the niece sharing in the loss.”

“What sin is there in pushing commerce a step beyond the limits of the law? These English are a nation of monopolists; and they make no scruple of tying us of the colonies, hand and foot, heart and soul, with their acts of Parliament, saying ‘with us shalt thou trade, or not at all.’ By the character of the best burgomaster of Amsterdam, and they came by the province, too, in no such honesty, that we should lie down and obey!”

“Wherein there is much comfort to a dealer in the contraband. Justly reasoned, my worthy Alderman. Thy logic will, at any time, make a smooth pillow, especially if the adventure be not without its profit. And now, having so commendabiy disposed of the moral of our bargain, let us approach its legitimate, if not its lawful, conclusion. There,” he added, drawing a small bag from an inner pocket of his frock, and tossing it carelessly on a table; “there is thy gold. Eighty broad Johannes is no bad return for a few packages of furs; and even avarice itself will own, that six months is no long investment for the usury.”

“That boat of thine, most lively Seadrift, is a marine humming-bird!” returned Myndert, with a joyful tremor of the voice, that betrayed his deep and entire satisfaction. “Didst say just eighty? But spare thyself the trouble of looking for the memorandum; I will tell the gold myself, to save thee the trouble. Truly, the adventure hath not been bad! A few kegs of Jamaica, with a little powder and lead, and a blanket or two, with now and then a penny bauble for a chief, are knowingly, ay! and speedily transmuted into the yellow metal, by thy good aid.–This affair was managed on the French coast?”

“More northward, where the frost helped the bargain. Thy beavers and martens, honest burgher, will be flaunting in the presence of the Emperor, at the next holidays. What is there in the face of the Braganza, that thou studiest it so hard?”

“The piece peems none of the heaviest–but, luckily, I have scales at hand,–“

“Hold!” said the stranger, laying his hand, which according to a fashion of that day, was clad in a delicate and scented glove, lightly on the arm of the other: “No scales between us, Sir! That was taken in return for thy adventure; heavy or light, it must go down. We deal in confidence, and this hesitation offends me. Another such doubt of my integrity, and our connexion is at an end.”

“A calamity I should deplore, quite or nearly as much as thyself,” returned Myndert, affecting to laugh; though he slipped the suspected doubloon into the bag again, in a manner that at once removed the object of contention from view. “A little particularity in the balance part of commerce serves to maintain friendships. But a trifle shall not cause us to waste the precious time.–Hast brought goods suited to the colonies?”

“In plenty.”

“And ingeniously assorted? Colonies and monopoly!–But there is a two-fold satisfaction in this clandestine traffic! I never get the notice of thy arrival, Master Seadrift, but the heart within me leapeth of gladness! There is a double pleasure in circumventing the legislation of your London wiseacres!”

“The chiefest of which is–?”

“A goodly return for the investment, truly–I desire not to deny the agency of natural causes; but, trust me, there is a sort of professional glory in thus defeating the selfishness of our rulers. What! are we born of woman, to be used as the instruments of their prosperity! Give us equal legislation, a right to decide on the policy of enactments, and then, like a loyal and obedient subject,–“

“Thou wouldst still deal in the contraband!”

“Well, well, multiplying idle words is not multiplying gold. The list of the articles introduced can be forthcoming?”

“It is here, and ready to be examined. But there is a fancy come over me, Alderman Van Beverout, which, like others of my caprices, thou knowest must have its way. There should be a witness to our bargain.”

“Judges and juries! Thou forgettest, man, that a clumsy galliot could sail through the tightest clause, of these extra-legal compacts. The courts receive the evidence of this sort of traffic, as the grave receives the dead; to swallow all, and be forgotten.”

“I care not for the courts, and little desire do I feel to enter them. But the presence of la belle Barberie may serve to prevent any misconceptions, that might bring our connexion to a premature close. Let her be summoned.”

“The girl is altogether ignorant of traffic, and it might unsettle her opinions of her uncle’s stability. If a man does not maintain credit within his own doors, how can he expect it in the streets?”

“Many have credit on the highway, who receive none at home. But thou knowest my humor; no niece–no traffic.”

“Alida is a dutiful and affectionate child, and I would not willingly disturb her slumbers. Here is the Patroon of Kinderhook, a man who loves English legislation as little as myself;–he will be less reluctant to see an honest shilling turned into gold. I will awake him: no man was ever yet offended at an offer to share in a profitable adventure.”

“Let him sleep on. I deal not with your lords of manors and mortgages. Bring forth the lady, for there will be matter fit for her delicacy.”

“Duty and the ten commandments! You never had the charge of a child, Master Seadrift, and cannot know the weight of responsibility–“

“No niece–no traffic!” interrupted the wilful dealer in contraband, returning his invoice to his pocket, and preparing to rise from the table, where he had already seated himself.–“The lady knows of my presence; and it were safer for us both, that she entered more deeply into our confidence.”

“Thou art as despotic as the English navigation-law! I hear the foot of the child still pacing her chamber, and she shall come. But there need be no explanations, to recall old intercourse.–The affair can pass as a bit of accidental speculation–a by-play, in the traffic of life.”

“As thou pleasest. I shall deal less in words than in business. Keep thine own secrets, burgher, and they are safe. Still, I would have the lady, for there is a presentiment that our connexion is in danger.”

“I like not that word presentiment,” grumbled the Alderman, taking a light, and snuffing it with deliberate care; “drop but a single letter, and one dreams of the pains and penalties of the Exchequer.–Remember thou art a trafficker, who conceals his appearance on account of the cleverness of his speculations.”

“That is my calling, to the letter. Were all others as clever, the trade would certainly cease.–Go, bring the lady.”

The Alderman, who probably saw the necessity of making some explanation to his niece, and who, it would seem, fully understood the positive character of his companion, no longer hesitated; but, first casting a suspicious glance out of the still open window he left the room.

Chapter X.

“–Alack, what heinous sin is it in me To be ashamed, to be my father’s child! But though I am a daughter to his blood I am not to his manners.–“

Merchant of Venice.

The moment the stranger was again alone, the entire expression of his countenance underwent a change. The reckless and bold expression deserted his eye, which once more became soft, if not pensive, as it wandered over the different elegant objects that served to amuse the leisure of la belle Barberie. He arose, and touched the strings of a lute, and then, like Fear, started back, as if recoiling at the sound he had made. All recollection of the object of his visit was evidently forgotten, in a new and livelier interest; and had there been one to watch his movements, the last motive imputed to his presence would probably have been the one that was true. There was so little of that vulgar and common character, which is usually seen in men of his pursuit, in the gentle aspect and subdued air of his fine features, that it might be fancied he was thus singularly endowed by nature, in order that deception might triumph, if there were moments when a disregard of opinion was seen in his demeanor, it rather appeared assumed than easy; and even when most disposed to display lawless indifference to the ordinary regulations of society, in his interview with the Alderman, it had been blended with a reserve of manner that was strangely in contrast with his humor.

On the other hand, it were idle to say that Alida de Barberie had no unpleasant suspicions concerning the character of her uncle’s guest. That baneful influence, which necessarily exerts itself near an irresponsible power, coupled with the natural indifference with which the principal regards the dependant, had caused the English Ministry to fill too many of their posts of honor and profit, in the colonies, with needy and dissolute men of rank, or of high political connexions at home. The Province of New-York had, in this respect, been particularly unfortunate. The gift of it by Charles to his brother and successor, had left it without the protection of those charters and other privileges that had been granted to most of the governments of America. The connexion with the crown was direct, and, for a long period, the majority of the inhabitants were considered as of a different race, and of course as of one less to be considered, than that of their conquerors. Such was the laxity of the times on the subject of injustice to the people of this hemisphere, that the predatory expeditions of Drake and others against the wealthy occupants of the more southern countries, seem to have left no spots on their escutcheons; and the honors and favors of Queen Elizabeth had been liberally extended to men who would now be deemed freebooters. In short, that system of violence and specious morality, which commenced with the gifts of Ferdinand and Isabella, and the bulls of the Popes, was continued, with more or less of modification, until the descendants of those single-minded and virtuous men who peopled the Union, took the powers of government into their own hands, and proclaimed political ethics that were previously as little practised as understood.

Alida knew that both the Earl of Bellamont and the unprincipled nobleman who has been introduced in the earlier pages of this tale, had not escaped the imputation of conniving at acts on the sea, far more flagrant than any of an unlawful trade; and it will therefore create little surprise, that she saw reason to distrust the legality of some of her uncle’s speculations, with less pain than might be felt by one of her sex and opinions at the present hour. Her suspicions, however, fell far short of the truth; for it were scarce possible to have presented a mariner, who bore about him fewer of those signs of his rude calling, than he whom she had so unexpectedly met.

Perhaps, too, the powerful charm, that existed in the voice and countenance of one so singularly gifted by nature, had its influence in persuading Alida to reappear. At all events, she was soon seen to enter the room, with an air, that manifested more of curiosity and wonder, than of displeasure.

“My niece has heard that thou comest from the old countries, Master Seadrift,” said the wary Alderman, who preceded Alida, “and the woman is uppermost in her heart. Thou wilt never be forgiven, should the eye of any maiden in Manhattan get sight of thy finery before she has passed judgment on its merit.”

“I cannot wish a more impartial or a fairer judge;” returned the other, doffing his cap in the gallant and careless manner of his trade. “Here are silks from the looms of Tuscany, and Lyonnois brocades, that any Lombard, or dame of France, might envy. Ribbons of every hue and dye, and laces that seem to copy the fret-work of the richest cathedral of your Fleming!”

“Thou hast journeyed much, in thy time, Master Seadrift, and speakest of countries and usages with understanding,” said the Alderman. “But how stand the prices of these precious goods? Thou knowest the long war, and the moral certainty of its continuance; this German succession to the throne, and the late earthquakes in the country, too, have much unsettled prices, and cause us thoughtful burghers to be wary in our traffic.–Didst inquire the cost of geldings, when last in Holland?”

“The animals go a-begging!–As to the value of my goods, that you know is fixed; for I admit of no parley between friends.”

“Thy obstinacy is unreasonable, Master Seadrift. A wise merchant will always look to the state of the market, and one so practised should know that a nimble sixpence multiplies faster than a slow-moving shilling. ‘Tis the constant rolling of the ball that causes the snow to cleave! Goods that come light should not go heavy, and quick settlements follow sudden bargains. Thou knowest our York saying, that ‘first offers are the best.'”

“He that likes may purchase, and he that prefers his gold to fine laces, rich silks, and stiff brocades, has only to sleep with his money-bags under his pillow. There are others who wait, with impatience, to see the articles; and I have not crossed the Atlantic, with a freight that scarcely ballasts the brigantine, to throw away the valuables on the lowest bidder.”

“Nay, uncle,” said Alida, in a little trepidation “we cannot judge of the quality of Master Seadrift’s articles, by report. I dare to say, he has not landed without a sample of his wares?”

“Custom and friendships!” muttered Myndert; “of what use is an established correspondence, if it is to be broken on account of a little cheapening? But produce thy stores, Mr. Dogmatism; I warrant me the fashions are of some rejected use, or that the color of the goods be impaired by the usual negligence of thy careless mariners. We will, at least pay thee the compliment to look at the effects.”

“‘Tis as you please,” returned the other. “The bales are in the usual place, at the wharf, under the inspection of honest Master Tiller–but if so inferior in quality, they will scarce repay the trouble of the walk.”

“I’ll go, I’ll go,” said the Alderman, adjusting his wig and removing his spectacles; “‘twould not be treating an old correspondent well, to refuse to look at his samples,–thou wilt follow, Master Seadrift, and so I will pay thee the compliment to examine the effects–though the long war, the glut of furs, the over-abundance of the last year’s harvests, and the perfect quiet in the mining districts, have thrown all commerce flat on its back. I’ll go, however; lest thou shouldst say, thy interests were neglected. Thy Master Tiller is an indiscreet agent; he gave me a fright to-day that exceeds any alarm I have felt since the failure of Van Halt, Balance, and Diddle.”

The voice of Myndert became inaudible, for, in his haste not to neglect the interests of his guest, the tenacious trader had already quitted the room, and half of his parting speech was uttered in the antechamber of the pavilion.

“‘Twould scarce comport with the propriety of my sex, to mingle with the seamen, and the others who doubtless surround the bales,” said Alida, in whose face there was a marked expression of hesitation and curiosity.

“It will not be necessary,” returned her companion. “I have, at hand, specimens of all that you would see.–But, why this haste? We are yet in the early hours of the night, and the Alderman will be occupied long, ere he comes to the determination to pay the prices my people are sure to ask. I am lately from off the sea, beautiful Alida, and thou canst not know the pleasure I find in breathing even the atmosphere of a woman’s presence.”

La belle Barberie retired a step or two, she knew not why; and her hand was placed upon the cord of the bell, before she was aware of the manner in which she betrayed her alarm.

“To me it does not seem that I am a creature so terrific, that thou need’st dread my presence,” continued the gay mariner, with a smile that expressed as much of secret irony, as of that pensive character which had again taken possession of his countenance; “but ring, and bring your attendants to relieve fears that are natural to thy sex, and therefore seducing to mine. Shall I pull the cord?–for this pretty hand trembles too much, to do its office.”

“I know not that any would answer, for it is past the hour of attendance;–it is better that I go to the examination of the bales.”

The strange and singularly-attired being, who occasioned so much uneasiness to Alida, regarded her a moment with a kind and melancholy solicitude.

“Thus they are all, till altered by too much intercourse with a cold and corrupt world!” he rather whispered, than uttered aloud. “Would that thus they might all continue! Thou art a singular compound of thy sex’s weakness, and of manly resolution, belle Barberie; but trust me,” and he laid his hand on his heart with an earnestness that spoke well for his sincerity; “ere word, or act, to harm or to offend thee, should proceed from any who obey will of mine, nature itself must undergo a change. Start not, for I call one to show the specimens you would see.”

He then applied a little silver whistle to his lips, and drew a low signal from the instrument, motioning to Alida to await the result, without alarm. In half a minute, there was a rustling among the leaves of the shrubbery, a moment of attentive pause, and then a dark object entered the window, and rolled heavily to the centre of the floor.

“Here are our commodities, and trust me the price shall not be dwelt on, between us,” resumed Master Seadrift, undoing the fastenings of the little bale, that had entered the saloon, seemingly without the aid of hands. “These goods are so many gages of neutrality, between us; so approach, and examine, without fear. You will find some among them to reward the hazard.”

The bale was now open, and as its master appeared to be singularly expert in suiting a female fancy, it became impossible for Alida to resist any longer. She gradually lost her reserve, as the examination proceeded; and before the owner of the treasures had got into the third of his packages, the hands of the heiress were as actively employed as his own, in gaining access to their view.

“This is a stuff of the Lombard territories,” said the vender of the goods, pleased with the confidence he had succeeded in establishing between his beautiful customer and himself. “Thou seest, it is rich, flowery, and variegated as the land it came from. One might fancy the vines and vegetation of that deep soil were shooting from this labor of the loom–nay, the piece is sufficient for any toilette, however ample; see, it is endless as the plains that reared the little animal who supplies the texture. I have parted of that fabric to many dames of England, who have not disdained to traffic with one that risks much in their behalf.”

“I fear there are many who find a pleasure in these stuffs, chiefly because their use is forbidden.”

“‘Twould not be out of nature! Look; this box contains ornaments of the elephant’s tooth, cut by a cunning artificer in the far Eastern lands; they do not disfigure a lady’s dressing-table, and have a moral, for they remind her of countries where the sex is less happy than at home. Ah! here is a treasure of Mechlin, wrought in a fashion of my own design.”

“‘Tis beautifully fancied, and might do credit to one who professed the painter’s art.”

“My youth was much employed in these conceits,” returned the trader, unfolding the rich and delicate lace in a manner to show that he had still pleasure in contemplating its texture and quality. “There was a compact between me and the maker, that enough should be furnished to reach from the high church-tower of his town, to the pavement beneath; and yet, you see how little remains! The London dames found it to their taste, and it was not easy to bring even this trifle into the colonies.”

“You chose a remarkable measure for an article that was to visit so many different countries, without the formalities of law!”

“We thought to start in the favor of the church, which rarely frowns on those who respect its privileges. Under the sanction of such authority, I will lay aside all that remains, certain it will be needed for thy use.”

“So rare a manufacture should be costly?”

La belle Barberie spoke hesitatingly, and as she raised her eyes, they met the dark organs of her companion, fixed on her face, in a manner that seemed to express a consciousness of the ascendency he was gaining. Startled, at she knew not what the maiden again added hastily–

“This may be fitter for a court lady, than a girl of the colonies.”

“None who have vet worn of it, so well become it;–I lay it here, as a make-weight in my bargain with the Alderman.–This is satin of Tuscany; a country where nature exhibits its extremes, and one whose merchants were princes. Your Florentine was subtle in his fabrics, and happy in his conceits of forms and colors, for which he stood indebted to the riches of his own climate. Observe–the hue of this glossy surface is scarcely so delicate as I have seen the rosy light, at even, playing on the sides of his Apennines!”

“You have then visited the regions, in whose fabrics you deal?” said Alida, suffering the articles to fall from her hand, in the stronger interest she began to feel in their owner.

“‘Tis my habit. Here have we a chain from the city of the Isles. The hand of a Venetian could alone form these delicate and nearly insensible links: I refused a string of spotless pearls for that same golden web.”

“It was indiscreet, in one who trades at so much hazard.”

“I kept the bauble for my pleasure!–Whim is sometimes stronger than the thirst of gain; and this chain does not quit me, till I bestow it on the lady of my love.”

“One so actively employed can scarcely spare time to seek a fitting object for the gift.”

“Is merit and loveliness in the sex, so rare? La belle Barberie speaks in the security of many conquests, or she would not deal thus lightly, in a matter that is so serious with most females.”

“Among other countries your vessel hath visited a land of witchcraft, or you would not pretend to a knowledge of things, that, in their very nature, must be hidden from a stranger.–Of what value may be those beautiful feathers of the ostrich?”

“They came of swarthy Africa, though so spotless themselves. The bunch was had, by secret traffic, from a Moorish man, in exchange for a few skins of Lachrymyae Christi, that he swallowed with his eyes shut. I dealt with the fellow, only in pity for his thirst, and do not pride myself on the value of the commodity. It shall go, too, to quicken love between me and thy uncle.”

Alida could not object to this liberality, though she was not without a secret opinion that the gifts were no more than delicate and well-concealed offerings to herself. The effect of this suspicion was two-fold; it caused the maiden to become more reserved in the expression of her tastes, though it in no degree lessened her confidence in, and admiration of, the wayward and remarkable trader.

“My uncle will have cause to commend thy generous spirit,” said the heiress, bending her head a little coldly, at this repeated declaration of her companion’s intentions, “though it would seem that, in trade, justice is as much to be desired as generosity;–this seemeth a curious design, wrought with the needle!”