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Transcriber's Note

There is some arcane and inconsistent spelling. The dialect, spelling
and punctuation have been preserved as far as possible.

Obvious typographical errors have been altered, for example where a word
was duplicated or a letter duplicated around a hyphen. Hyphenations have
been made consistent.





                                      AN

                               OLD SAILOR'S YARNS.

                                      BY

                                    N. AMES.

                        AUTHOR OF "MARINER'S SKETCHES,"
                                  &c. &c. &c.


                   Extremum hunc, Arethusa, mihi concede laborem.

                                                          _Virgil._


                    NEW YORK: GEORGE DEARBORN, 38 GOLD STREET.

                                  MDCCCXXXV.


                        *       *       *       *       *


     Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1835, by
     GEORGE DEARBORN, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the
     United States, for the Southern District of New York.


                        *       *       *       *       *


WILLIAM VAN NORDEN, PRINT.




                                   CONTENTS.

                       *       *       *       *       *


                     MARY BOWLINE. . . . . . . 15

                     OLD CUFF  . . . . . . . . . . 53

                     RIVALS . . . . . . . . . . . . 73

                     MORTON . . . . . . . . . . . 95

                     PIRATE OF MASAFUERO . . 329




PREFACE.


Mr. Buckingham, noticing the "Nautical Reminiscences" in the New
England Magazine, says, no author ever stopped at the second book; and
he very gravely proceeds to recommend that my number three should savor
more of the style of Goldsmith or Washington Irving. I should have no
objection whatever to writing like either of these distinguished
authors, _if I could_; but as the case is, I must be content to write as
well as I can. The whole article in Mr. B's magazine bore no faint
resemblance to a dose of calomel and jalap, administered in a
table-spoonful of molasses, in which the sweet and the nauseous are so
equally balanced, that the patient is in doubt whether to spit or to
swallow. I was, however, exceedingly flattered with the notice bestowed
upon me by this literary cynic, as he was never before known to speak
well, even moderately, of any author, except natives of Boston, or
professors in Harvard University.

"Morton" is founded upon an old tradition, now forgotten, but well
known when I first went to sea, of the exploits of some of our
adventurous and somewhat lawless traders in the Pacific. A number of the
crew of one of these smuggling vessels were taken in the act, and, after
a hasty trial, ordered to be sent to the mines. The route to their place
of condemnation and hopeless confinement lay near the coast. A large
party of seamen landed from two or three ships that were in the
neighborhood, waylaid the military escort, knocked most of them on the
head, rescued the prisoners, and got safe off without loss. The story
says nothing of female influence or assistance, but knowing it to be
morally impossible to get through a story without the assistance of a
lady, I pressed one into the service, and took other liberties with the
original, till it became what peradventure the reader will find it. Many
stories are told of the skirmishes, or as sailors call them,
"scrammidges," between our "free-traders" and the guarda-costas in
different parts of the Pacific. In particular, the ship D----, of
Boston, is said to have had a "regular-built fight" with a guarda-costa
of forty-four guns, that retired from the action so miserably mauled,
that it is doubtful to this day whether she ever found her way back into
port. An old sea-dog who was on board the D----, furnished me with many
details of the proceedings of our merchantmen on the coasts of
California, and Mexico, some thirty years since, but most of them have
escaped my memory.

I have inadvertently, in one or two instances, called the inhabitants
of Mexico, South Americans. The fact is, there is scarcely a perceptible
shade of difference in manners between the Chilians, Peruvians, and
Mexicans; there is none in their language, dress, or religion; and
sailors, who pay but little regard to arbitrary divisions of continents,
are in the habit of calling all the quondam possessions of his Most
Catholic Majesty, that border upon the Pacific, by the general name of
South America, upon the same principle, I presume, that they call the
whole of that ocean the "_South_ Sea," though they may be at that very
moment anchored in Sitka, or cruizing in the chops of Behring's Straits.

"The Rivals," is built upon a strange story that was quite current among
our men-of-war's-men some years ago, but I am unable to give any further
account of the hero of _their_ story than the reader will find in the
conclusion of mine. There seems to be no doubt that the stranger was
obliged to fly on account of a fatal duel; and sailors, who cannot
conceive of a duel between two gentlemen, as they somewhat ironically
call them, unless there is a woman in the case, have accordingly
attached one to the quarrel that compelled the unfortunate officer to
take shelter on board an American national vessel.

"Old Cuff" is a sketch from real life. He was a petty officer in the
service at the same time with me, and notwithstanding his rambling life,
was a man of good education and strong mind. His life was a striking
illustration of the truth of the proposition that "there is no romance
like the romance of real life." He proposed to me to take minutes of his
adventures, which were extremely interesting, but before I could
commence operations I was myself made a petty officer, and removed to a
station in a part of the ship where I but seldom saw him, and the ship
was soon after ordered home.

The reader need be neither a wizard nor a witch to perceive that "Mary
Bowline" is a creation of my own brain, and is of course defective, and
will disappoint. But if it is true that "Bacon, Butler, and Shakspeare
have rendered it impossible for any one after them to be profound,
witty, or sublime," it is equally true that Scott, Irving, and others
have rendered it impossible for any one to be equally entertaining,
interesting, or amusing. I hold, however, to another maxim, that "he is
a benefactor to mankind who furnishes them with innocent materials for
laughter and delight," a maxim that did not come exactly "ex cathedra,"
but is full as profound, and correct. If I have been so fortunate as to
contribute to, or become the cause of innocent delight, I shall think
that the "Forecastle Yarns" have not been written in vain.

It was objected to my two former works that they contained strictures,
and remarks, upon what are commonly called orthodox principles. In the
present volume, I have studiously endeavored to steer my footsteps clear
of the tender toes of every religious sect except the Catholics; whom,
in imitation of the Protestant clergy and laity all around me, I have
handled without mittens whenever I could get a chance.

I cannot close without repeating that if I have succeeded in helping to
make

    "The wheels of life gae down hill scrievin',
                       Wi' rattlin' glee,"--

I shall feel more gratified than if I had squared the circle, or drawn
up a tariff that, like Shakspeare's barber's chair, should fit all
parties.


                                                            N. A.
    _Providence, October 1, 1833._


P. S. More than a year ago the following pages were written and prepared
for the press, under the title of "Forecastle Yarns," but a gentleman
connected with the New York Mirror took a fancy to that title, and
immediately appropriated it to himself with the most genteel
indifference as to the prior right of another. In consequence, I have
been obliged to adopt a new name. The "Pirate of Masafuero" was written
after the above preface was prepared. "Old Cuff" has already been before
the public in the columns of the first and only number of a new
magazine[1] that expired for want of patronage, and support, having just
survived long enough to give ample proofs that it deserved the
patronage, and support, that were denied it. The very favorable notice
that the Evening Star took of "Old Cuff," is proof positive that it is
much higher than "fair to middling;" and if it is true that "the proof
of the pudding is eating the bag," (and the reader will consider "Old
Cuff" as the bag,) I think it follows that the pudding now set before
him cannot be a bad one.

    _November, 1834._


[Footnote 1: American Spectator and National Magazine.]




                 *       *       *       *       *

                            MARY BOWLINE.

                 *       *       *       *       *




                            MARY BOWLINE.




CHAPTER I.


                           "Nautaeque, per omne
    Audaces mare qui currunt, hac mente laborum
    Sese ferre, senes ut in otia tuta recedunt,
    Aiunt."
                                        HORACE.


Captain Robert Bowline, a retired sea-captain, occupied a snug little
farm in the town of B----, one of the many pleasant villages on the
coast of New England. He had followed the sea for many years, acquired
considerable property, married, and had a family. When he had attained
his forty-fifth year, a relation of his wife died, leaving her heiress
to a very handsome estate, part of which was the farm aforesaid. In
consequence of this event he was easily persuaded by his wife, whom he
tenderly loved, to retire to private life, and leave the "vexed ocean"
to be ploughed by those who had their fortunes to make. They retired to
their farm, when the first act of the old Triton was to pull down the
antique house that had been erected "about the time of the old French
war," and build another more "ship-shape," and congenial to the taste
of a sailor. The dwelling itself was not, indeed, externally different
from any other of the snug-looking and rather handsome two-story houses
of substantial farmers, &c. in New England; but its internal economy was
somewhat nautical, containing numerous "lockers" and "store-rooms." Its
front gate-posts were composed of the two jaw-bones of an enormous
whale; the fence was of a most fanciful Chinese pattern; and directly in
front of the house was erected that never-failing ornament of a sailor's
dwelling, a tall flag-staff, with cap, cross-trees, and topmast,
complete; the last, always being kept "housed," except upon the 4th of
July, 22d of February, &c. At the foot of the flag-staff, "hushed in
grim repose," was an iron six-pounder, mounted upon a ship gun-carriage,
ready for service, whenever any national holyday required its voice. The
house fronted the sea; a most superb view of which it commanded, but was
at the same time screened from its storms in great measure by being
flanked by noble old elms, and a fine orchard, which almost entirely
surrounded it; while in the rear the ground swelled into a thickly
wooded hill of moderate height. The ground in front sloped gently down
to the water's edge, at the distance of half a mile from the house, but
to the left gradually rose into a high point, or headland, terminating
in a rocky cliff that strode far out into the sea, and formed the
harbor.

The family of the old seaman, at the time he took possession of his
"shore quarters," consisted of himself, wife, and daughter Mary--the
rest of his children having died young. As we have no particular concern
with the events of his life from that period to Mary's twenty-first
year, we shall only observe that during that time he had the misfortune
to lose his wife.

Mary Bowline was a young lady, confessedly of the greatest beauty in the
little town of B----, and for many miles round; a trifle above the
middle stature, sufficiently so to relieve her figure from the
imputation of shortness; or, as she was a little inclined to be
"fleshy," or "embonpoint," as our refined authors call it, from what is
sometimes called "stubbidness;" her eyes were of deep celestial blue;
her hair, a dark brown, and her complexion, notwithstanding her
continual rambles along the beach in her girlish days, of exquisite
purity. Her education, I grieve to say, had been most shamefully
neglected; her mother, though a most exemplary woman, both as a
Christian and a member of society, had never tied her up in a
fashionable corset to improve her figure, nor sent her to a fashionable
boarding school to improve her mind; the consequence was that she knew
nothing of the piano,--Virgil seems to have had the gift of prophecy
with regard to this part of modern education, when he said or sang,

    "Stridente stipula miserum _disperdere_ carmen,"--

and was equally ignorant of that sublime and useful art, working lace;
she had no further idea of dancing than had been beat into her head, or
rather heels, by the saltatory instructions of an itinerant
dancing-master--I ask pardon, "professor"--who, with a bandy-legged dog
at his heels, and a green baize bag under his arm, paid an annual visit
to the town, to instruct its Thetises in the "poetry of motion;" an apt
illustration of the

    "_Bacchum_ in remotis" choreas "rupibus
    Vidi docentem
    Nymphasque discentes,"

of Horace, with the alteration of a word; said fiddler having "forsworn
thin potations" very soon after the commencement of his capering career.
In the "serene and silent art" she was, however, truly fortunate; the
clergyman of the place, a most amiable and intelligent man, and, to the
credit of his amphibious parishioners, loved and esteemed with the
utmost fervor and unanimity, added to his other accomplishments no mean
skill as a draughtsman; an art, that he had full leisure to practise;
one of his parochial duties, that of visiting the sick, being a mere
shadow; for your fisherman, with his wife and his little ones, is but
seldom on the doctor's list, and when he "files off," generally does it
without beat of drum or flap of banner. He was a constant visiter at the
house of Captain Bowline, whither he was attracted by the fascination
of the seaman's stories of foreign parts. Charmed with the dawning
beauty of the lovely little Mary, he readily undertook to give her
better instruction than she could have obtained at the town school, to
which he added drawing. Her mother had amply instructed her in the more
useful and homely arts of cooking, sewing, knitting, &c. and she had
even taught her to spin; for she lived before the establishment of any,
or many, of those institutions for the increase of illegitimate
children, ignorance, immorality, suicide, seduction, murder, &c.--I mean
cotton factories. The comparatively affluent circumstances of her family
had, however, rendered it unnecessary for her to practise this last
accomplishment. With all these charms in her own person, and right in
her father's strong box, it is not to be wondered at that the lovely
Mary Bowline had suitors in abundance; but the only one that seemed to
have made any impression upon her light heart, was a young seaman by the
name of Kelson, who had now attained his twenty-seventh year.

Thomas Kelson was the son of poor parents, indeed it would have been
extremely difficult, if not impossible, to have found a family in the
whole town of B---- that could be called wealthy. He had followed the
sea from early life, and had always returned home during the intervals
of his voyages, at which times he had improved his education under the
instructions of the clergyman aforesaid. His acquaintance with Mary had
passed by a very natural transition from intimacy to affection; he was
the constant companion of her rambles, and when she chose an aquatic
excursion his sail-boat was always ready. To her father his company was
always acceptable; the old seaman had none of the pride of "monied
aristrocracy;" he saw no harm in his daughter placing her affections,
and bestowing her hand and fortune, upon a young man who was fast rising
to respectability and wealth, in precisely the same steps by which he
had himself ascended, commencing as cabin-boy and ending as master and
part owner; he lived on a part of the coast that lay entirely out of the
track of "refinement," if indeed she had then begun her march.

Accordingly things were permitted to go on just as though consent had
been asked and obtained; the young couple walked together, sat together,
and Kelson being "free of the house," talked together upon almost every
subject but love. Was there to be a fishing or sleighing party, or an
excursion into the neighboring woods, Tom Kelson was invariably and by
quiet agreement Mary Bowline's escort; was there a ball, no one,
"louting low with cap in hand," solicited, or thought of soliciting, the
honor of her company; that felicity was always supposed to be reserved
for Tom Kelson; still, with all this constant and close intimacy, the
young seaman had never talked of love, never offered himself as a
husband, and Mary, the gay and light-hearted Mary, had never, as the
New England saying is, "thought a word about it." Had Kelson suddenly
presented himself to her with "Mary, shall we be published next Sunday?"
she would have answered "Yes;" without the slightest hesitation; nor
thought her assent worth the trouble of a blush or a simper; and such, I
believe, will be found the case in most of our country courtships.

Captain Kelson, for he had attained that title some time previous, had
been on _terra firma_ some months; partly for want of a vessel, but
chiefly in compliance with the earnest entreaties of the lovely Mary,
who was terrified at the thought of his again encountering the frightful
calamity that had so nearly proved fatal to him on his last voyage. On
his return from St. Petersburg with a full cargo, he had experienced a
tremendous gale near the Grand Banks, during which his vessel was struck
by lightning and consumed. After undergoing most dreadful sufferings in
their boats, the exhausted remnant of the crew were most providentially
picked up and brought safe home. In consequence of losing his vessel,
the owners had received him with coldness, as is invariably the case, as
though a deep loaded brig, lying-to in a gale of wind, could dodge a
flash of lightning! I have known many a good seaman kept "lying out" of
a vessel for months, merely because the owners had thought proper to
send him to sea in a _craft_ whose bottom had "dropped out," as the sea
phrase is, as soon as she had encountered bad weather.

Captain Kelson had accordingly remained on shore from April, till
September; the time when we have thought proper to commence our story;
during which period he contrived to kill time quite agreeably in
fishing, shooting, surveying the harbor, and last but not least, in
paying continual attention to the fair Mary. He had one day made a visit
to Captain Bowline's house, and had accompanied him in a ramble over
part of his farm. During their "cruize," the old sailor had detailed his
plans for the season, and gradually extending his views, announced
certain arrangements and alterations as about to be carried into
execution "when Mary gets married." When Mary gets married! the words
passed like the shock of a galvanic battery through the mind of the
younger seaman; he soon took leave, and as he strolled, unconscious of
the direction his feet were taking without admitting his head into their
counsels, down towards the narrow strip of white sand beach at the foot
of the headland already mentioned, her father's words, the last that he
distinctly heard or recollected, continued to sound in his ears--

"When Mary gets married! well, she must get married some time or other,
and who will it be?" he said to himself, suddenly stopping short. "She
seems to prefer me at present, but I know that when I am at sea she
appears to favor Sam Ingraham, or Ben Bass, just as much. Yet why
should she be so anxious to have me stay on shore to avoid an accident
that may not occur again in a century, if I should live so long, unless
she does really prefer me to all others? I will certainly try to find
out the state of her feelings towards me the first opportunity, and if
she refuses me, I will never set foot in B---- again."

With this chivalrous determination he visited his lovely and all
unconscious mistress the next day, but the fair lady was busy
ironing.--"I shall see her again this evening," thought he, as he turned
slowly towards the town; and see her that evening he did. They rambled
out towards the cape, or promontory, almost invariably the scene of
their summer evening walks; for lovers, after one or two strolls over a
particular portion of ground, regard it as almost sacred; there are a
thousand sweet recollections connected with every step--here they have
paused to admire some particular feature in the prospect--under that
spreading tree they have stood together in silence, busy with their own
peculiar thoughts; and this walk is seldom, if ever, changed--it is
almost like inconstancy to each other to propose a different route.

They had reached the high bluff, and were seated, as usual, upon a
solitary block of granite, which, had they lived in heathen times, they
might have worshipped as the ancient and much respected god Terminus.
Mary, who had hitherto had the conversation almost entirely to herself,
suddenly noticed her lover's abstraction.

"Why, what's the matter with you, Thomas?"

"Nothing; I was only thinking, Mary."

"'Thinking, Mary!' well, do speak to Mary once in a while. I believe,"
she continued, after a pause, and with a faltering voice and feeling of
faintness that she could not account for, "I believe you are in love,
Thomas." She had heard that day that Captain Kelson was making furious
love to a sea-nymph in B----, the daughter of one of the richest
inhabitants.

"So I am, sweet Mary, most desperately so."

"I know it, sir; I heard it all this morning; I wish you joy," gasped
the poor girl.

"Heard of it all! good heavens, Mary, what do you mean? it is you, my
own dearest girl, that I love; who else _could_ you think of?" as he
spoke he held both her hands in his and clasped them earnestly.

"I heard," faltered poor Mary, "I was told that--that it was--Jane
Wilson, O, Thomas!" and sinking her glowing cheek upon his shoulder, she
burst into tears.

Kelson, inexpressibly delighted by this unequivocal testimony of her
love, prest her to his bosom, and hastened to explain to her that the
sole object of his seeking an interview with her that evening, was to
make known his affection; that his silence and reserve were owing to the
deep interest he felt in the issue of that interview; that his visits
to Captain Wilson's were solely on business; that he scarcely saw his
daughter Jane at any one of them; and a thousand other things. What a
stupid, asinine creature is a lover, _before_ the ice is broken, and
what an eloquent, inspired animal, _after_ the _explosion_! A lover may
retire to his closet, and spoil a whole ream of paper with "raven
locks," and "eyes' liquid azure," and "sweet girls," &c. Such an epicure
creature as Natty Willis will befoul you a quire of foolscap before
breakfast in that way--but let a stranger see the same lover in presence
of his idol, and he would think that he was then to apologise for an
assault and battery with intent, &c.

The walk home was the pleasantest they had ever enjoyed--both were too
happy for conversation. They decided, however, before they parted, that
it was altogether unnecessary to communicate to Captain Bowline what had
taken place. "He has understood all along what was the state of your
feelings," said Mary, "and I am sure has always regarded you with
paternal kindness."




CHAPTER II.

    O! a most dainty man!
    To see him walk before a lady and bear her fan!

                               LOVE'S LABOR LOST.


The next day, as the old seaman sat by a front window smoking his pipe
after dinner, he suddenly started up with the exclamation of "Hey!
what--what the devil have we here? Mary, love, hand me the glass--a
mariner adrift on a grating, by the Lord Harry!"

The object that called forth this animadversion, and broke a delightful
day-dream that Mary was indulging in, now appeared in sight, having
hitherto been hidden by a thick clump of trees, that bounded the ocean
prospect towards the right. It was a small sail-boat, with three men in
her, that, at one moment directly before the wind, and the next, "all
shaking," seemed rapidly approaching an extensive mud flat, that formed
one side of the harbor, and towards which the flowing tide and fresh
breeze seemed to be fast drifting her.

"There they are, hard and fast! and on their beam ends, too, by the
piper," continued the veteran, and as he witnessed this last
catastrophe, he sprang from his chair, forgetting in his charitable
intention of hurrying to their assistance, that they were more than half
a mile off, and in full view of the town.

"There is a boat going to them, pa," said Mary, slightly blushing as she
recognised at the mast head of a very handsome, fast sailing boat, a
blue "burger," with a large white M. in it, the work of her own fair
hands.

"Aye," said the veteran, reseating himself, "aye, there goes Tom Kelson
in your namesake, Mary; they'll get off with a ducking, and it will
serve them right. Yes," continued he, applying the glass to his eye,
"there goes two of them ashore through the mud, like a couple of
pup-seals."

Kelson managed his boat with great skill, so as to approach the wreck,
on board which still appeared one person half overboard, and apparently
almost exhausted by his violent struggles to disencumber himself from
the wet sail, and by anchoring immediately to windward, and carrying
away cable, reached the boat and rescued the unfortunate man from a
situation that was exceedingly uncomfortable if not dangerous. The other
two, by dint of swimming, wading, and wallowing through the mud, reached
the shore, which was about three hundred yards distant.

As soon as he had ascertained that the man on board the wreck was
rescued, the old seaman, "on hospitable thoughts intent," hastened to
the village to obtain intelligence and render assistance. It was
evening when he returned to his snug dwelling, and then he was
accompanied by a tall, slight made, very fashionably dressed young man,
whom he introduced to his daughter as Mr. Millinet, of New York.

Mr. Millinet, or as he usually designated himself, George Frederick
Augustus Millinet, Esq., was a "dry goods merchant," _par excellence_,
in Broadway, who having a little more cash on hand than he had ever
possessed before, made an excursion to New England, with the charitable
intention of civilizing and astonishing the natives. His debut was,
however, rather unfortunate; B---- was his first "land-fall" after
quitting the high road from New York, towards the east. Fancying that a
sail-boat in a sea-way, was as easily managed as a Whitehall skiff, off
the Battery; he had "put to sea," in company with two little amphibious
urchins that he had hired for the occasion, and who desired no better
sport. They immediately perceived the ignorance of their commander, and
began to play tricks upon him, as man-of-war's men do upon an ignorant
and tyrannical midshipman. These pranks had terminated more seriously
than they expected, and, fearful of punishment, they had betaken
themselves to the water and made their escape.

Mr. Millinet being somewhat annoyed by the sly jokes and grave humor of
mine host, of the hotel, concerning his misfortune, and the giggling of
the waiters and chamber-maids, gladly accepted Captain Bowline's
invitation, and was soon seated at his hospitable and well loaded table,
for the old tar put no great faith in tea and bread and butter for
supper. The knight of the yard-stick had, however, gulped down too much
salt water, and been too seriously frightened to feel much appetite, and
he retired to bed early. The next morning he made his appearance at
breakfast, over which the fair Mary was presiding, and which might have
excited an appetite in the gastric region of the most confirmed
dyspeptic. There were bass and tautaug fresh from the water; oysters in
different forms, broiled, stewed, fried, &c.; a noble ham, into which
the stout seaman plunged his flashing carving-knife, and hewed it in
pieces, as Samuel did Agag, in the valley of Gilgal; there was broiled
ham, beef steaks, mutton chop, eggs, cheese, butter, honey, hot cakes; a
pile of pilot-bread-toast a foot high, ditto untoasted, coffee, tea, and
chocolate. To all this good cheer, their fashionable visiter paid but
small respect, and the old commander, having pressed him to make himself
at home, and help himself, attacked his own breakfast with vigor,
feeling at the same time no small contempt for a man whose stomach could
be so effectually unhinged by a simple capsize, and thorough ducking.
The vender of tape and calico, seemed to feast his eyes, if not his
appetite, by gazing on the lovely countenance of his young hostess; and
after some slight hesitation, commenced talking to her of theatres, and
balls, and assemblies, and fashionable intelligence in general; but
Balaam's ass, if she had marched into the room and commenced an oration
in the original Hebrew, or Chaldee, or Syro-Phoenician, or whatever
might have been _its_ vernacular tongue in which she formerly addressed
her master, could not have been more unintelligible. The old gentleman
made an attempt to drive a conversation, and asked a few questions
relative to foreign politics, the state of navigation, and commerce, in
New York, &c.; but finding his auditor as ignorant as though he had
proposed a case in middle latitude sailing, he dropped him altogether.

He remained in the family three or four days, during which, his
attentions to Mary were incessant, but managed with such fashionable
tact as not to be annoying. She was exceedingly amused by his consummate
vanity and self-conceit; that seemed to make up the greater part of his
character. His descriptions of society and manners in the commercial
emporium, though not altogether intelligible to his fair auditor, were
new and amusing, and in spite of the contagious effect of her father's
contempt, and the troubled looks of poor Kelson, she could not help
listening to him with complacency. It was evident to every body but Mary
that the retailer of ginghams was most seriously smitten with her, as
much so, that is to say, as his idolatry of himself left him capable of
being with any person. And so it proved, for in less time than she had
any idea that it was possible to go to and return from New York, back
came her Broadway beau. Mary opened her large blue eyes in most
unaffected astonishment, as he came up to the door at which she was
standing, equipped for a walk with Kelson. She made no scruple of
consigning him to her father and continuing her walk. The old man
received him, of course, with politeness, and after a short
conversation, his visiter who seemed much embarrassed, observed that he
was desirous of entering the holy state, and then went on to give an
account of his prospects, expectations, possessions, references, hopes,
fears, anxieties, &c. The seaman listened with attention to the whole
catalogue, mentally exclaiming, "what the d--l does all this mean?"

"In short, sir," said he of Broadway, "I have seen no young lady who
seems so well calculated to make a man happy as your lovely daughter
Mary; and if you have no objection, I should be happy to be permitted to
pay my addresses to her, if her affections are not already engaged."

The old sea-dog, who had been rubbing his chin during the latter part of
his visiter's harangue, observed that "his daughter was indeed a fine
girl, and he (Mr. Millinet) had not and could not say any more good of
her than she deserved; that as to her affections being engaged, he did
not pretend to bother his brain about an affair that did not concern
him, trusting that the girl had good sense enough to make a proper
choice; that with regard to paying his addresses to her, he might sheer
alongside as quick as he liked--he would without doubt find her at
quarters and all ready for action; and finally that he, her father,
would not interfere to thwart her wishes in so important an affair as
the choice of a husband, for," (he repeated, with an internal chuckle as
the thought crossed his mind, that his favorite Tom Kelson was beyond a
doubt the man of her choice,) "Mary knew what she was about, and had wit
enough to make a judicious choice."

This speech, an exceedingly long one for him, was listened to with great
satisfaction by his fashionable guest, who thus armed with the father's
consent, as he regarded it, never dreamed of the possibility of any
difficulty on the daughter's part, and looked upon the whole affair as
settled.

In the mean time Mary, regardless of her victory over the heart of her
New York visiter, was quietly pursuing her evening walk with Kelson, to
whom she had made known the presence, in the vicinity, of his rival. Her
lover heard the intelligence with a feeling of dissatisfaction that he
could not exactly define--he had unbounded confidence in his Mary's
constancy and love just at that present time, but, like most men, he had
rather a mean opinion of woman's constancy in general, and could not
avoid applying the general rules that he had formed for himself, to most
individuals. He dreaded the effect of an assiduous and sustained attack
upon Mary's inexperienced mind, from a dashing, fashionable lover, who
held out to her acceptance all the charms and glitter of a life of ease,
and splendor, and dissipation. His uneasy sensations were by no means
quieted by his companion's gaiety, who having at once surmised, or
pretended so to have done, the object of the Gothamite's visit, promised
herself much amusement from his wooing.

On their return to the house, they found the new visiter quietly
installed in the parlor, and waiting their, or rather her, return. In
high glee with the flattering prospect before him, he completely
monopolized Mary's attention, and eventually put to flight the
overpowered and mortified Kelson, who left the house with a heavy heart.
For at least a week Mr. Millinet kept the field; he was Mary's constant
companion, whether sitting quietly at home or walking out; and Kelson,
finding it almost impossible even to speak to her, prudently kept
himself out of the way, well knowing that Mary would soon miss him, if
she had not already, and eagerly seek an interview; nor was he wrong in
his conjecture. Calling at her father's house one Sunday morning, he
found her seated in the parlor waiting for meeting time. In the course
of conversation he asked her jestingly, though with a beating heart,
"what she meant to do with her new lover?"

"I don't know," said she laughing, "he says that he has my father's
permission to make love to me, and he seems determined that the
permission shall not become a dead letter for want of use."

"Your father! I had no idea that he had given his consent."

"My father, Thomas, has given me free permission to do as I please in
the affair of choosing a husband."

"Certainly," said poor Kelson, construing this last speech into sentence
of death to _his_ love.

"And I have already acted as I pleased," continued the lovely girl,
holding out her hand to him.

It was impossible to mistake the meaning of the last words and their
accompanying action, and the delighted seaman certified his full
intelligence and gratitude upon her lips.

"I believe this fellow, my sweet Mary, has made me almost jealous and
quite foolish; but, seriously, what do you mean to do with him?"

"Why, the creature can't stay here for ever, and if he offers himself to
me, I shall say 'No,' in as plain English as possible."

Mr. Millinet soon after made his appearance, and attended Captain
Bowline and his daughter to meeting, to the no small surprise of the
good folks of B----, who, regarding him as the favored lover of Mary
Bowline, could not help expressing their regret that she should have
slighted Captain Kelson, and accepted "that tape-measuring son of a
b----."

What a pity that sailors, and seafaring people at large, can seldom or
never give vent to their indignation without at the same time attacking
the parentage of the object of their resentment. This is decidedly an
orientalism; and I have observed in another place that sailors resemble
the Orientals in their fondness for tropes and figures. The most
opprobrious epithet that a Persian can make use of, when in a passion,
is to call his antagonist "a dog's uncle." No other degree of canine
consanguinity is considered so degrading.

The retailer of dry goods dined at the house of Captain Bowline, and
attended the family to church in the afternoon, but excused himself
immediately after the service was over and returned to the town. Kelson
made a visit to the house of the old seaman just at dark, and on
entering the usual sitting-room he found it unlighted, and occupied only
by Dinah, the black girl, who, arrayed in what the old captain called
her "go-ashore bib and tucker," was probably awaiting the arrival of her
woolly-headed suitor. The old gentleman had gone out visiting, as he
usually did on Sunday evenings, and Mary was in a little back parlor,
where she usually sat in her father's absence, and which was the winter
sitting-room of the family. Kelson had been in the house but a very few
minutes when he saw his rival approaching the front gate. With all that
propensity for mischief that characterizes sailors on shore, he
immediately formed, and proceeded to put in execution, a plan for the
torment and vexation of his antagonist of the yard-stick. He promised
the sable handmaid of his Mary a half dollar, if she would personate her
mistress for a few minutes, which he imagined easily enough done in the
dark, and instructing her "to behave prim and lady-like," went in quest
of the boy Jim, whom he stationed in the entry to open the door for Mr.
Millinet, and show him into the front parlor, and then went to the room
where the fair lady herself was sitting. She was just on the point of
coming to the front room with a light, having heard his well-known voice
and step, but he easily engaged her in conversation; and when, at
Millinet's knock, she was rising to see who it was, he as easily
detained her by the assurance, that it was "nobody but her New York
sweetheart." Every thing favored the mischievous plans of the seaman:
Millinet never suspecting that any female but the mistress of the house
would presume to seat herself in the front parlor, and feeling moreover
the darkness and solitude of the room peculiarly favorable to courtship,
seated himself by the side of the supposed Mary, and immediately
commenced making love in pretty "rapid" style. Finding that the lady
answered only in monosyllables, and seemed more than usually affable, he
ventured to take her hand and gently squeeze it. He was at first
somewhat startled at the hardness and roughness of the palm, but soon
recollected that the country ladies in New England were in the habit of
milking their cows, making butter and cheese, &c., and said to himself,
"Never mind, when she is Mrs. Millinet her hard palms shall be well
rubbed with pumice-stone and milk of roses, till they are as soft as any
lady's in Broadway."

Enraptured by the gentle pressure with which the "black lily" returned
his amorous squeeze of her hand, he ventured to raise it to his lips,
and imprint a kiss upon the short, thick fingers. At this critical and
rapturous moment the door flew open, and the real Mary entered, bearing
a lighted glass mantel-lamp in each hand. With a profound curtesy she
placed her lamps upon the mantel-piece, and gravely asking pardon for
her intrusion, flew into the room which she had just left, and which
immediately echoed with her laughter, lively and joyous, but most
unfashionably loud, hearty, and prolonged. The sable _fair_ one made her
escape at the same time, and received from Kelson double what he had
promised her. Mary, however, as soon as she had recovered her gravity,
joined her new suitor, but all her hospitable attentions were lost upon
the discomfited Broadway merchant, who soon took his leave, overwhelmed
with shame and mortification, nor did he sufficiently recover himself to
renew his visits for two or three days. When he did again visit her
father's house, Mary, who thought the joke carried far enough, treated
him with more than usual attention, by way of apology for her untimely
and mortifying mirth, so that by the expiration of the week he had
entirely recovered his spirits, his self-conceit, his vanity, and his
talkativeness.




CHAPTER III.

                      You are now within a foot
    Of the extreme verge; for all beneath the moon
    Would I not leap upright!
                                        KING LEAR.


Shortly after this mad prank of Kelson's, Mr. Millinet invited Mary to
walk out one lovely evening, to which she gladly assented. They took
their way towards the "Whale's Head," a name given by the inhabitants of
B---- to the high bluff already mentioned, that formed the eastern side
of their harbor, from its real or fancied resemblance to the nose, or to
speak more scientifically, "noddle-end," of a whale. A path descended
obliquely from the upper part of the cape down to the beach at its foot.
The whole cape and the land adjacent were comprised in the estate of
Captain Bowline, who kept the paths in good repair, and had been at
considerable pains, when he first took possession of the farm, to render
it perfectly safe and passable, for the convenience of the fishermen,
who were in the habit of digging clams on the narrow beach at the foot
of the hill, and fishing among the sunken rocks at the extreme point.
For the whole length of the path the hill was extremely steep, but not
perpendicular, and covered with short dried grass, which made the
surface so slippery, that it afforded an apt illustration of Virgil's
"facilis descensus Averni;" for though any one might accomplish a
descent safely enough by dint of holding on to the few shrubs and
bushes, and sliding occasionally, no animal but a cat, a goat, or a
monkey, could ascend, if it was to save his life. Near the middle of the
path it was crossed by a deep gap, or ravine, caused by the constant
wearing of a small spring of water that trickled down the face of the
cliff, and which was generally swollen by the melting of the snow, or by
occasional heavy rains. The beach, or rather marsh, at the foot of the
hill, where the little rivulet joined the sea, was so soft and boggy, as
to be utterly impassable. Across this ravine, which was known by the
name of the "Devil's Gap," Captain Bowline had caused a narrow bridge,
of two planks in width, to be built, protected on the outside by a light
railing. On the side next the hill, it was sufficiently guarded by the
crooked branches of a knurly and scrubby oak tree, that grew on the very
edge of the ravine.

Down this path the fair Mary and her suitor directed their steps. They
wandered along the beach as far as the point, the New Yorker in full
chat and high spirits, and Mary's attention almost entirely occupied by
a distant boat that seemed to be engaged in fishing, and which she
recognised, notwithstanding the distance, to be her namesake, the Mary,
belonging to her lover Kelson. Their walk occupied them till nearly
sunset, when Mary suddenly recollected that the tide was flowing, and
would soon entirely cover the narrow beach that they had just passed. By
dint of walking fast, they reached the foot of the path before the beach
was covered by the tide, and commenced their ascent just as the sun went
down.

In the mean time, heavy black clouds began to muster in the north-west,
announcing the approach of a thunder shower, and reducing the evening
twilight to less than half its usual duration. Large heavy drops of rain
were soon felt and heard, rattling in the few straggling shrubs and
bushes, accompanied by short gusts of wind. Mr. Millinet, who was
considerably alarmed by these indications of a violent shower, and who
trembled for the safety of his new Broadway hat, and Broadway coat,
hurried on with the most uncourteous and unlover-like disregard of his
fair companion, who was too much accustomed to take care of herself, to
be at all incommoded by his neglect. They reached the "Devil's Gap," and
the lover strode on most rapidly; he was just upon the middle of the
little bridge, when being startled by a sudden bright flash of
lightning, he stumbled, and in the dread of falling off, laid violent
hold upon one of the branches of the scrubby oak on the other side,
recovered himself, and passed on. The oak, that had long since been
partially undermined by the water from the spring, and which Captain
Bowline had determined to remove before it did any damage, gave way
before the violent pull of Millinet. Mary, whose feet were already upon
the planks of the bridge, alarmed by the rattling of the loose earth and
stones that fell from under the roots of the tree, ran hastily back. The
next instant, the tree, with a ton or two of earth attached to its
matted roots, came thundering down, sweeping away with it the bridge,
and a large portion of the path beyond it. In the mean time, short
violent showers, of but four or five seconds in duration, with equally
short and violent gusts of wind, induced the Broadway gallant to
increase his speed; he had indeed heard a loud crash, but it is no more
than bare justice to him to say that he mistook the noise for thunder.

Poor Mary was thus completely insulated--it was impossible to go back,
for the beach was long since covered by the rising tide--to climb up the
hill was exceedingly difficult, if not absolutely impossible to an
active man--to go forward was of course out of the question--there was
every appearance of a cold, driving October storm of wind and rain, to
which she must necessarily be exposed, with no additional clothing
except a shawl, till the tide had ebbed sufficiently to leave the beach
passible, and then the walk round the point was full three miles. In
this dilemma, far from any human habitation, and exposed to the night
wind, which now began to blow extremely chilly, poor Mary seated herself
upon the bank and wept bitterly. After the lapse of a few minutes, she
became more composed, and most fervently and earnestly commending
herself to Divine protection, she endeavored to shelter herself as much
as possible from the wind; for the rain had now ceased, and the clouds
breaking away towards the south-west, gave indications of a clear, cold,
frosty autumnal night.

Relief was, however, much nearer than she expected. Her father, alarmed
at her non-appearance, and the threatening looks of the weather, sallied
forth in quest of her. He had gone but a few rods, when he met Mr.
George Frederic Augustus, with his pocket handkerchief tied over his
hat, and his coat buttoned up to the chin, "striking out," as sailors
say, like a man walking against time.

"Holloa," he shouted, "you Mr. What's-your-name! where the d--l have you
left Mary? a pretty fellow you are to convoy a lady, to bear up before
the wind as soon as the weather looks misty, and leave her to shift for
herself! not but that the girl is a d--d sight better able to take care
of herself than you are to take care of her." All this was said in
perfect good humor, the old tar taking it for granted that his daughter
had "made a harbor," as he expressed it, in one of the neighbor's
houses.

But the abrupt question had startled Millinet, and he answered with much
confusion and hesitation, "I--really, sir, I thought,--I am sure that
is--I thought she was close behind me--she certainly was a few minutes
since."

Captain Bowline, muttering an inverted blessing upon his fashionable
guest, pushed on towards the path over the cliff. He was soon joined by
Kelson, who had come in from fishing but a few minutes before, and who,
hearing of Mary's walking out upon the beach, had immediately hastened
to her father's house. He too had seen the hero of Gotham; but that
gentleman, not deeming it wholesome to hold much conversation with men
of so little refinement and fashion as Bowline and Kelson, when
irritated, had made the best of his way towards B----.

Mary's father and lover accordingly hurried on, stopping at the house of
old Haddock, the fisherman, who lived near the upper end of "Jade's
Walk," as the hill-path was called, where they furnished themselves with
a lantern, a coil of rope, and sundry other articles that they deemed
necessary. Old Haddock and his two "boys," great two-fisted fellows of
twenty and two and twenty years of age, also accompanied them. They soon
arrived at the Devil's Gap, where they beheld the ruin caused by the
fall of the tree. For an instant a thrill of horror ran through the
hearts of two of the beholders; the idea that the object of their search
and solicitude had been swept away by the fall of the bridge, and
crushed in its ruins, or smothered in the mud and water at the foot of
the hill, occurred instantly to both of them.

From this state of agony and suspense, they were soon relieved by the
silver voice of =Mary= herself, calling from the further side of the gap,
"Here I am, dear father, don't attempt to come to me, the path is all
carried away on this side, and it is impossible for you or any one to
get to me. Wait till the tide has gone down, and I will walk round to
the point."

The sight of the dear girl in safety only stimulated them to greater
exertions; the old fisherman and one of his boys departed to their house
to procure a long plank, while Kelson and the other young man returned
to the top of the hill, and, by sliding and supporting themselves by the
bushes, safely descended to the spot where stood the lovely wanderer.
She was so overjoyed to see them, and so completely chilled through,
that she could scarcely speak. Kelson immediately stripped off his coat,
and insisted upon wrapping her in it; and the young Triton, following
the brilliant example of one whom he respected so much as Captain
Kelson, doffed his "monkey-jacket," and with hearty but rough kindness
forcibly enveloped her feet and ancles in its fearnought folds.

In a short time the other two fishermen arrived, bearing on their
shoulders a long plank. An end of a rope was then thrown to Kelson, by
which one end of the plank was hauled across, and firmly bedded in the
bank. Its passage was then rendered secure by double "life-lines" on
each side; and Mary, supported by her lover and the young fisherman,
safely reached the other side, and was pressed, sobbing with joy, to her
fond father's bosom. The whole party then returned towards Captain
Bowline's house, where the old fisherman and his two sons were liberally
rewarded, and treated with a good supper.

The next morning a messenger arrived from the village, bearing a note
from Mr. George, &c. Millinet, in which he attempted to excuse his
behavior the preceding evening. Mary declined opening it, however, and
contented herself with sending word by the bearer that the writer need
not give himself any further trouble on her account, an answer that was
sufficiently intelligible. But the old commander shouted after the
messenger, "Tell that lubberly _yoho_[2] that if I catch him within a
cable's length of my house, I'll break every d--d bone in his
tailor-built body."

This threat was duly reported to the crest-fallen vender of pins and
bobbin, who settled his bills, and accomplished his escape, with as
little parade and as much expedition as possible; a movement that excited
full as much conversation as his first appearance and intimacy in
Captain Bowline's family; and while one party were confident that he had
only gone to New York to make preparations for his marriage, and another
were equally sure that Mary had, in nautical parlance, "given him his
walking ticket," the story of the accident and Mary Bowline's narrow
escape at the Devil's Gap came out, with suitable additions and
embellishments, and of course the whole affair wore a different face at
once. Old Haddock, the fisherman, was seized upon one evening in a
ship-chandlery and grocery store, that was the usual Rialto of the
loungers in B----, and rigorously cross-questioned. The man of hooks and
lines hitched up his trowsers, and proceeded to enlighten his audience
as follows:--

"Why you see that 'are New York chap and Miss Mary took a stroll down
Jade's Walk as it might be about five o'clock in the arternoon, P. M. as
the newspapers say. Well, they went down Squaw Beach, and so clean away
out as fur as the pint; and when they was coming back, and got to the
furder eend of the walk, the Yorker he kinder shinned up to her, and she
didn't like it, for I knowed all along she meant to have Captain Kelson.
Well, one word brought on another, till finally he conducted himself in
a very promiscuous manner, and she told him to go 'long about his
business, or she'd tell Captain Kelson of his doings. Well, that made
him just about as mad as a hoe, and so when they come to the Devil's Gap
he kinder kicked away one eend of the bridge, and then turned to and
hauled down that 'ere scrub oak that growed clost to the bridge, so's
folk mought think 'twas done by accident; and so there the poor gal was
left by herself till old Captain Bowline and I and my two boys and
Captain Kelson, come there and rigged a kind of trumporary bridge like,
and got her safe over, and that's the whole consarnment of the matter as
far as I know any thing on't."

This account of the affair, coming from an eye-witness, was considered
authentic, being full as correct as the stories of eye-witnesses
generally are. Mary at first attempted to contradict it, but finding her
efforts fruitless, prudently determined to let the story die a natural
death, which it soon did; a tremendous gale of wind and a shipwreck on
the Whale's Nose having in less than a week most effectually turned the
current of conversation into another channel.

Mr. Millinet reached New York in safety, and solaced himself for his
defeat in New England by attention to his pretty person, and his pretty
customers, balls, assemblies, and billiards; in process of time made a
fashionable failure, a fashionable marriage, and commenced business
afresh. To the questions of his acquaintance respecting his excursion
"down east," he was shy and reserved; evading all questions on the
subject by declaring that he had passed his time very pleasantly while
he was in New England, but that the people had some very peculiar and
odd notions of things. In process of time the story of his repulse
reached New York with all its embellishments. Some of his friends were
exceedingly shocked at the idea of his having made an attempt upon the
life of a young lady, for such seemed the tenor of the story; but those
who knew him best fully acquitted him of any thing of the kind, inasmuch
as he had not courage sufficient to offer violence to a hen and
chickens. A true version of the story soon after came out, and Mr.
George Frederic was compelled to undergo the ridicule of all his
acquaintance.

Mary Bowline became Mrs. Thomas Kelson on "Thanksgiving-day-night," as
the New England folks call it, on which joyful occasion the flagstaff
was rigged "all a-tanto," and the colors kept flying from eight o'clock
in the morning till sunset; according to the regulations of the naval
service, and were also hoisted the next day.

It was a leading article in Mary's consent to the marriage, that her
husband should give up going to sea, which he and her father contended
did not include or contemplate his probably making a coasting "trip," if
business required, and Mary at last consented to admit the exception.
The bridge at the Devil's Gap was substantially repaired, and was often
visited by Mary and her husband; and Jade's Walk was long celebrated as
a favorite evening stroll when the weather permitted, not only with
young lovers, but even with "old married fudges," as young ladies who
are husband-hunting very politely call them.

[Footnote 2: Yoho, an animal, probably the ourang-outang, in whose
existence sailors are firm believers, and of whose courage,
intelligence, cunning, malicious and mischievous disposition, they tell
wonderful stories. The word seems to be a corruption of Dean Swift's
"Yahoo."]




                     *       *       *       *       *

                                 OLD CUFF.

                     *       *       *       *       *




                                OLD CUFF.

               "Qualia multa mari nautæ patiuntur in alto!"

                                        VIRGIL.


What Yankee man-of-war's-man is there, ashore or afloat, who has "helped
Uncle Sam," any time between the beginning of the "long embargo," and
the year 1827, who does not know or has not heard of Old Cuff? His real
patronymic appellation is nobody's business;--perhaps it would puzzle
himself to give any account of it: nor is it worth while to inquire how
the name of Cuff, generally bestowed upon the woolly-headed and
flat-nosed descendants of Ham, should be given to a white man; and as
for the _prænomen_, as the Romans would call it, of "old," it is well
known to all my short-jacketed readers, that it seldom has, in "sea
dic." or nautical language, any reference to antiquity on the part of
the bearer thereof; but is merely a familiar or affectionate
distinction; as the commander of a merchantman, although perhaps under
twenty years of age, is invariably called the "old man," by all hands on
board.

Old Cuff, when I knew him, was just turned of forty, and was, of course,
of venerable standing; as it is I presume, well known to every body that
a sailor's life does not average much more than forty years, from
exposure, hardships, and privations. Though not stricken in years,
according to the usual signification of the phrase, Old Cuff had
certainly _lived a great deal_, and had seen a great deal, there being
scarcely a habitable corner of the world that he had not visited, or of
the private history and internal economy of which he could not relate
many anecdotes; so that he might, without arrogance or vanity, have
assumed to himself the proposed motto of the Jesuits:

     "Quæ regio in terris nostri non plena laboris!"

He commenced his career as cook and cabin-boy on board a "horse-jockey;"
one of those vessels which carry horses, mules, and other cattle to the
West Indies; a title bestowed upon them by sailors, who are very much in
the habit of indulging in that figure of speech called by rhetoricians
metonymy; in this instance applying the genuine name of all Connecticut
men, and some Rhode Islanders, to a fore-topsail schooner, or
hermaphrodite brig, as the case might be. He was next, by a sort of
metamorphosis, or rather metastasis, not uncommon with those of "steady
habits," a travelling tin-pedler; and his adventures and hard bargains,
during a visit or two to the western and southern states, might prove
highly entertaining to my readers, had I not seen some twenty or thirty
of them lately going the rounds of the newspapers, which Old Cuff has
often very gravely assured us, in our "quarter watches" in the main-top,
were actually perpetrated by himself. By a transition still easier, and
perhaps more natural, from a tin-pedler he transmuted himself into an
itinerant preacher, and from conscientious motives endeavored to repair
the injury he had done to the pockets of his customers with his
white-oak nutmegs, horn gun-flints, and bass-wood cucumber seeds, by
supplying them with pure unadulterated orthodox Calvinism, fresh from
the Saybrook Platform. Nor did he confine his usefulness to beating the
"drum ecclesiastic;" during the long winters in the country, he "kept
school," as it is somewhat perversely called; whereas, in nine cases out
of ten, it is the school that "keeps" the schoolmaster.

But "the sow that was washed returned to her wallowing in the mire;" and
in like manner Cuff left off steering the souls of sinners through the
temptations and sorrows of this wicked world, or the infant mind through
the intricacies of a--b ab, and once more betook himself to steering
vessels across the ocean. He went to sea as mate, and shortly after as
master, of a merchantman. He was chiefly employed in the West India
trade.

It has been said, that all, or nearly all, the Americans taken on board
piratical vessels in the West Indies and parts adjoining, are natives of
New-England; and it is gravely stated as a reason, that in consequence
of the immense trade between that section of the Union and those
islands, and the neighboring parts of the main land, that are the chief
scenes of piratical depredation and resort; the crews of the New-England
vessels trading, and occasionally smuggling, in bye-ports, become
gradually and imperceptibly acquainted with those of piratical vessels
frequenting those bye-ports and obscure harbors, for the purpose of
refitting their vessels or disposing of their plunder; and that these
acquaintances ripen into intimacies, that terminate in a strong cord
with a running noose in the end of it. The deduction is perfectly
logical, and it only remains to substantiate the premises; and these, I
fear, may be proved, in but too many cases, to be based upon too solid a
foundation to be overthrown by all the incredulous writhings of national
pride. Be that as it may, the atrocities of Gibbs and others have
recently proved, that total depravity is approached as nearly by the
natives of New-England as by any of our Christian brethren.

In process of time the subject of our narrative grew tired of stowing
molasses, feeding horses, or throwing them overboard, and "dodging" from
island to island, and entered the naval service of the United States.
The vessel to which he was attached was stationed in the West Indies,
and had been on her station but a very short time, before that scourge
of no small portion of the western world, the yellow fever, made its
appearance on board. Our navy certainly was not then under so good
regulations as at present. The medical department might perhaps be
almost as good then as it now is, or rather as it was when I was in the
service; the disgracefully penurious compensation allowed our naval
surgeons rendering their station contemptible and degrading in the
estimation of medical men of any pride or ability. Besides this, the
sick at sea can never receive assistance from female attendance; for
although some may deem it altogether imagination, there _is_ something
so soothing to the sick or wounded man in those thousand nameless acts
of kindness that none but woman can think of, and none but woman
perform, that, after one or two visits from the doctor, the patient
feels wonderfully inclined to dispense with his further attendance: nay,
when languishing on that bed from which he is doomed never to rise, his
pillow is softer when arranged by woman's hand; his parched and clammy
lips seem to recover their healthy freshness when woman administers the
cooling draught. When I die, grant, kind Heaven! that the last earthly
sound that murmurs in my "death-deafened" ear may be the kind, soothing,
pitying voice of woman. When this worn-out hulk, strained fore and aft
by exposure and hard service, its upper works crank with vexations and
disappointments, shall be hauled up high and dry upon the lee-side of
death's cove, may the last that "shoves off" from alongside be woman--I
care not whether wife or stranger.

In addition to the want of proper attention, a sick sailor is invariably
an object of contempt and disgust to his officers: they cannot forbear
regarding with contempt a man who is reduced to mental and bodily
imbecility by a disease that _they_ do not and perhaps never did feel:
his pale, emaciated, and squalid appearance excites disgust. I have made
these remarks to illustrate what, on the authority of Old Cuff, took
place on board the U. S. ship----.

Owing to the negligence or imbecility, or both, of the medical
department on board, little or no provision was made for the sick. They
lay about on the forecastle or the booms, and the dead were collected,
sewed up in their hammocks, "ballasted," and hove overboard, every
morning before the decks were washed, that is, between day-break and
sunrise. This duty was generally performed by the master-at-arms and
ship's corporal, familiarly called throughout the service "Jack Ketch
and his mate;" but in this particular ship, and for the time being, they
received the more apposite title of ship's "turkey buzzards." I ought to
have mentioned, that in obedience both to naval etiquette and the
superstitious feelings of the sailors, the burial service of the
Episcopal Church was regularly read over the result of the ship's turkey
buzzards' researches above or below deck.

Old Cuff, who had been on shore with a watering party, where he had made
a pretty heavy libation of new rum, came on board at sunset; but having
a somewhat confused recollection of the "bearings and distances" down
the fore-ladder, he wisely concluded to set up his tabernacle for the
night upon the boom. Long before midnight he perceived the symptoms of
the cruel disorder that had so fearfully thinned the ----'s complement.
His distress increased every moment--he earnestly begged for a draught
of water, but in vain, and before daylight he became insensible. In due
time all hands were called; the resurrection-men commenced their
examination, and receiving no intelligible reply to a sound kick upon
our hero's ribs, the ship's corporal laid hold of him by the heels, and
dragged him into the gangway, where the two functionaries declared him
"dead enough to bury," and forthwith reported progress to that effect to
the lieutenant of the morning watch. "Very well," said the officer.
"Young gentlemen, have a couple of eighteen-pound shot got up; pass the
word, there, for the sail-maker's mate. Boatswain's mate, call all hands
to bury the dead. How many are there?" "Only one, sir." "Very well. Tell
Mr. Quill to bring his prayer-book on deck."

The corpse was soon inclosed in its canvass coffin, with the shot
attached to the feet. The captain's clerk commenced the funeral service
in a hurried, monotonous tone, and had nearly got to the fatal "we
therefore commit his body to the deep," the signal for launching, when
the ceremony was interrupted, and the officers and crew horrified by a
violent struggle of the supposed defunct, accompanied with angry
ejaculations.

"What the devil are you about? Let me out, let me out; d--n your eyes, I
ain't dead yet;--cut away your thundering hammock, and I'll let you know
whether I'm dead or not. This is a pretty how-d'ye-do, to be giving a
fellow a sea-toss before his time has come."

Half a dozen jack-knives were at work in an instant upon the stitches of
the hammock that inclosed the dead-alive--their owners being in their
eagerness utterly regardless of the risk of amputation to which their
haste subjected Old Cuff's nose; who, having burst his cerements and
shaken himself, was conducted below to the doctor.

Death, however, had not yet done with him. His next cruise was in the
Patriot service. Nothing very particular took place, till being sent
with a party "cutting out," as it is technically termed by seamen--that
is, capturing and bringing out vessels lying at anchor in an enemy's
port, he and several of his party were made prisoners, and, according to
the murderous system of warfare going on between the Spanish royal
forces and the insurgents, ordered to be shot. No great formality was
ever used on these occasions, (the Catholic Church, of course, withheld
her consolations from heretics,) and their preparations were nearly
completed, when several dragoons dashed into the "plaza," bloody with
spurring, fiery red with haste, announcing that the rebels were
advancing in great force from the interior. The intelligence proved to
be correct, but the executing party did not wait to ascertain that fact;
they scampered off instantly, leaving the prisoners bound. The Patriots,
of course, set them at liberty, and Old Cuff was thus rescued a second
time from an "untimely grave." (By the way, I never saw any person,
however old and infirm, who was willing to admit the grave "timely," at
any age.)

After many wanderings and adventures, he entered another Patriot vessel,
cruising off the mouth of the river Plata. After making some captures,
they were one day suddenly surprised and completely hemmed in by a
Spanish squadron, consisting of a frigate and four or five other smaller
vessels. Finding escape impossible, the commander of the Patriot brig,
an Englishman, determined to defend himself to the last extremity, at
the same time using every exertion to escape, of which the swift sailing
of his vessel held out some hopes. These hopes were, however,
frustrated, in consequence of the brig losing several important spars,
and being soon rendered almost a complete wreck. In this crippled and
unmanageable condition, she drifted upon a small, low, island, at no
great distance, but still kept up a fire from such of her guns as could
be brought to bear, or rather such as she had men enough left to work,
for, by this time, full two thirds of her crew were killed or
wounded.--Finding it impossible to save his vessel, the commander, who
was dreadfully wounded, and fast bleeding to death, recommended to the
wretched survivors of his brave crew to save themselves by swimming. Old
Cuff and eight or ten others, being all who were able or willing to try
their chance, accordingly took to the water, and reached the island
safely, Cuff himself being severely wounded. The island was very low,
scarcely rising six feet from high-water mark, and completely covered
with a species of wild vine, that, finding neither trees nor rocks to
support it, had formed a perfect cover to the whole island, by twisting
and interweaving its branches with each other, so as to form a vegetable
carpet sufficiently firm and close, in nearly all parts, to support the
weight of a man. Between this singular roof and the ground was a space
of two or three feet, and within this space the unhappy seamen secreted
themselves, not with the hope of escaping, but deferring the fate that
they were certain awaited them. Accordingly, the Spaniards, after having
boarded the wreck of the brig, and, according to custom, murdered the
wounded and mangled the dead, landed a large party to complete the
horrid tragedy by murdering the few unfortunate men whom they had seen
swim to the island. These savages ran about the island, which it does
not seem was more than a couple of acres in extent, yelling like wild
beasts, and thrusting their swords and boarding pikes down among the
vines, with the hope of piercing some of the objects of their revenge.
One of them, who appeared to be an officer, stood for some minutes
directly over and upon Old Cuff, and while giving directions to his men,
repeatedly thrust his sword down through the sheltering vines. The
weapon passed once between his arm and body, and once through his
clothes, slightly grazing his side. His agony during these moments was
horrible. To be dragged out, and murdered by inches, or stabbed to death
where he lay, not daring to move, though the pressure of the wretch's
weight who stood upon him was so painful, that he could scarce forbear
crying out. Such seemed his inevitable fate. But he was doomed to
undergo still greater agony. One of the unfortunate men was discovered
and dragged out within a few yards of him. The incarnate demons were a
full hour murdering him, stabbing and hacking him with their pikes and
cutlasses in parts of the body where wounds would be exquisitely painful
but not mortal. The shrieks of the unhappy man were dreadful, the more
so, as every one of his companions expected every moment to share his
fate. The approach of night at length put an end to the dreadful scene,
and the disappointed hell-hounds returned to their ships.

The next morning, the Spanish squadron sailed round the island, pouring
upon every part of it discharges of grape and canister shot, that proved
fatal to several of the unfortunate men concealed upon it. They also
landed again, and attempted to set fire to the vines and dry grass, but
providentially without much effect. They continued, however, to
blockade the little island for two days longer, when they were
compelled, by bad weather, to stand out to sea. Having ascertained that
the Spanish murderers were gone, the miserable remnant of the brig's
crew ventured from their hiding-places, almost exhausted with hunger,
thirst, and terror. The main land was in possession of the Patriot, or
Buenos Ayrean troops, but was more than two miles distant; and they
consequently had no alternative but to swim to it; which they
accordingly attempted, being extremely apprehensive that the Spaniards
would return. The passage across the straits was long and tedious; and
their hopes of ultimate success for a long time doubtful. When about
half way across, one of their number declared that he was too much
exhausted to go any farther, and after a few words of encouragement from
his companions, suddenly exclaimed, "good bye," and sunk for ever. The
rest, five in number, succeeded in reaching the shore, just at sunset.

After wandering about a mile, they came to a sort of farm-house, the
mistress of which was employed baking bread. Delirious with hunger,
three of them tore the half-baked bread from the oven, and devoured
large quantities of it. They all died in horrible agonies before
day-break. The other two, more prudent, or having arrived at that point
of starvation, at which pain had ceased, ate nothing but such light food
as was provided for them by the humane Buenos Ayreans. In a few days
they were quite recovered from the effects of such prolonged hunger, and
made the best of their way towards the city of Buenos Ayres. Here Old
Cuff found several Republican officers, by whose influence he obtained a
commission as lieutenant of artillery. But, not altogether liking the
land service in the first place, and having moreover ascertained that
the Republic of Buenos Ayres, like that of the United States of America,
was not willing to vouchsafe any thing but hard knocks, and no pay, to
those who stood by her and supported her, in her fierce struggle for
independence, he very deliberately disrobed himself of his regimentals,
laid aside his epaulets, tore up his commission, and returned in a
merchantman to his native country. Not long after his return, he entered
in the United States service, and it was then, that I first saw him. He
was made captain of the main-top before sailing, and I was, myself,
shortly after, stationed in the main-top likewise.

On the passage out to the Pacific, and when nearly in the latitude of
Cape Horn, we, that is to say, a midshipman, Old Cuff, and thirteen men,
were all very comfortably asleep in the main-top, the weather being
remarkably mild for that high latitude. It was the middle watch, from
midnight to four in the morning; Cuff was lying athwart-ships, or
cross-wise of the top, and near the fore part of it, where there were no
topsail nor topmast-shrouds to prevent a fall. There was, indeed, a
"life-line" from the first topmast-shroud, on each side, to the
cap-shore amidships, but it was breast high, and of course afforded no
security to a man who was lying down. My head was pillowed upon Old
Cuff's side, the midshipman's head was on my breast, and the rest of my
earthly tabernacle was occupied as a bolster by as many of the quarter
watch as could get near me. About two o'clock, I was suddenly awoke by
the abduction of my living pillow, and the consequent collision of my
head against one of the top burton-blocks. At the same time I heard a
whizzing noise, like a rope running swiftly through a block, but none of
us took much notice of it; the midshipman growled some at my fidgeting
about while fixing another pillow, but the absence of the captain of the
top was not perceived. At seven bells, or half past three, the
midshipman of the quarter deck hailed, "Main-top there! answer your
musters, in the main-top."

"You had better keep awake in that main-top;" thundered the lieutenant
of the deck, through his trumpet, "you have lost one of your number
already by your sleeping."

All this was "Hebrew Greek" to us, but in a short time the sentry at the
cabin door "reported" eight bells; the larboard watch was called, the
wheel, look-outs, and tops relieved, and the mystery of the loss of "one
of our number" fully explained.

"What did you heave Old Cuff out of the top for?" said the first one of
the larboard watch, whose head came through the "lubber's hole."

"When did Old Cuff, fall from aloft?" said the next that ascended to the
"sky-parlor."

"Old Cuff is done for," said the third that came up.

"He has broke his back-bone short off;" said a fourth, with his jacket
over one shoulder.

"Yes, and four of his ribs to boot;" added a fifth, who was determined
the story should not want particulars.

"The doctor says he won't live till morning," said a sixth, who had not
yet hove in sight, speaking below the top, as Hamlet senior's ghost does
under the stage.

By this time, the whole of the alarming intelligence was fairly
expended, the remaining eight, who made up the sum total of the quarter
watch, having no farther particulars of consequence to communicate, the
first six who came up having already broken every bone in poor Old
Cuff's body, and "abridged his doleful days" to boot. By dint of cross
questioning, we made shift to ascertain, that about two o'clock, or four
bells, Old Cuff had rolled away from under my head, and over the top
brim. Fortunately he fell across the fore-topmast studding-sail tack,
which broke two of his ribs and his fall, and thence he had gently
canted over, and alighted upon the quarter-deck hammock-nettings, nearly
knocked overboard the half-asleep main-topman who was perched up there
as a look-out. He recovered, however, in two or three weeks, in spite of
the doctor's prognostication.

Upon our arrival at Valparaiso, a similar accident happened to him,
that, taken in connexion with the first, formed what newspaper folks
call "a singular coincidence." A considerable portion of the town, or
city, or whatever it may be, of Valparaiso, is built upon and among
several high, rocky, precipitous cliffs, to which sailors, time out of
mind, have given the names of fore, main, and mizen tops. It is,
perhaps, another singular coincidence, that the name "main-royal," that
belongs of right to the highest sail in a ship, is applied to the lowest
part of said respectable sea-port. The "main-top" is the favorite resort
of sailors, but I cannot say much in praise of the moral virtues of the
denizens of said main-top. They do, indeed, enjoy a better prospect and
a purer air than their fellow citizens, whose location is somewhat
nearer the level of the sea, so that their physical elevation gives them
many advantages that serve to compensate them for what they lack through
moral debasement. The part of the main-top that fronts the bay, is a
sheer precipice of two hundred feet; but on another part, it is simply
too steep for any animal but a monkey to make a highway of. Down this
part Old Cuff, who was ashore on liberty, and who likewise had his "beer
aboard," contrived to trundle himself, and was picked up as dead in the
street below. He, however, recovered from this tumble as speedily as he
did from the other, having received but little damage, except some half
dozen cuts and bruises in the countenance, which he held in but light
esteem, being by no means vain of his beauty. I do not recollect that he
met with any more accidents of consequence during the cruise. He
returned to America in the frigate, and I have since been told that he
had received a gunner's warrant, in consideration of his long, and, in
his way, faithful services and many wounds; for I believe he had been
wounded in almost every naval engagement during the last war.




                   *       *       *       *       *

                               THE RIVALS.

                   *       *       *       *       *


                               THE RIVALS.


In the neighborhood of Genoa, there lived some years since an old
gardner, who, by dint of most unwearied industry and great skill in his
vocation, had acquired sufficient property to enable him to purchase the
farm that he had hitherto occupied as a tenant. His name was Pietro
Morelli. He had no family but an only child, his daughter Bianca, at the
time of our story in her nineteenth year, and who assisted her father in
such branches of his occupation as were not inconsistent with her sex.

Bianca Morelli possessed all that peculiar beauty for which her
countrywomen are celebrated; namely, regular Grecian features, a clear
brunette complexion, a profusion of raven black tresses, and soft,
languishing, and most intelligent black eyes. Her form was tall,
slender, and graceful, while her disposition was amiable and gentle as
her face was lovely. The beautiful Bianca was well known, and admired by
most of the inhabitants of Genoa; and her sweet face and modest
deportment were always, with them, irresistible inducements to purchase
her fruits and flowers, when she accompanied her father to market, or
visited the city alone.

It so chanced one day, that a party of Austrian officers, who had
recently been quartered in Genoa, rode out to old Morelli's house, to
enjoy what was to them both a luxury and a novelty;--eating fruit fresh
gathered from the trees and vines.--Old Morelli was by no means
ambitious of this honor; he was too firm a friend to his degraded, but
still redeemable country, to desire any intimacy with the military
myrmidons of her Austrian despot; so that, notwithstanding the grave and
correct moral deportment which is said to be the general characteristic
of the Austrian officers, and of which he was aware, he saw their
approach to his humble dwelling with a vague feeling of distrust and
anxiety.

Among his military visitors was General Baron Plindorf, one of those
"gallant militarists" that abound in all standing armies; whose sole
employment, during the "piping times of peace," and in the course of a
soldier's unsettled and rambling life from quarters to quarters, seems
to be, to abuse the rights of hospitality, by carrying disgrace and
infamy into every domestic circle to which they can by any means obtain
admittance. It ought to be a source of pride to my countrymen, that they
are more of a marrying people than the English or French, and do not
regard women in the same degraded light as a gambler does a pack of
cards, that are to be shuffled and played with for a while, and then
thrown away. Our naval and military officers are rather remarkable for
their readiness to form matrimonial connexions; while on the other hand,
our young men who are educated to the law, physic, or divinity, never
think of "setting up for themselves," till they are "accommodated," as
Bardolph says, with a wife, whom the three learned professions regard as
indispensable as Starkie on Evidence to the first; a pocket case of
instruments, or Dawes' Midwifery, to the second; or a Brown's
Concordance, or Calmet's Dictionary, to the third.

Such characters as I have alluded to, it would seem, are extremely
common in the British army; and it is to be presumed that they are not
less plentiful in the armies of the European powers; though it does not
appear that the community at large gain wisdom and caution from the
mournful experience of their neighbors, but rather the reverse; for, if
we may believe their own writers, the footsteps of a regiment, moving
about through different country quarters, are marked by more incurable
evils, and more true horrors, than the march of an invading army through
a hostile, and resisting country. It has been said of the Turkish army,
that they are far more formidable to their friends, than to their foes;
if any dependence can be placed in those numerous writings, professing
to be descriptions of English manners, that find their way across the
Atlantic, the same may be said of that portion of the British army that
is on the "home station."

Baron Plindorf was an unprincipled libertine, cold, selfish, and
unfeeling. He was eminently successful too in his diabolical enterprise,
although there was nothing prepossessing in his person or in his
manners; but he had the reputation of being irresistible, and of course
he was so; for, whatever may be the reason, it is a most lamentable
fact, that to be called a professed rake, and reputed father of some
half dozen illegitimate children, is a man's most irresistible passport,
and powerful recommendation to the good graces and smiles of the fair
sex at large; every woman is instantly eager to call into exercise that
fascinating treachery that ought to doom its possessor to public infamy
and detestation. The next most powerful introduction to female favor, is
to be a widower or a foreigner; though the latter is almost uniformly
"brought to bay," in a few months after marrying in this country, by a
wife and some eight or nine children from "over the water;" the very
next foreigner that comes over _alone_, is snapped up in the same
way--but enough of this.

He saw and admired Bianca, as Milton's devil saw and admired Paradise,
with the prospective determination of destroying its calm happiness
forever.

There was one of old Morelli's visitors, how ever, upon whom the lovely
Bianca's beauty, modesty and grace, had made an impression of a far
different kind. This was the young Count Altenberg, acknowledged on all
hands to be the most accomplished gentleman, and most amiable and
estimable young man, in that division of the Grand Duke's army. Frederic
Count Altenberg, was the son of Rudolf, of Altenberg, an officer of high
rank, who had served his country faithfully, but ineffectually, in
opposing the headlong progress of the blood-stained Corsican. The old
Count had, within two years, been gathered to his fathers, and his title
and estates had descended to his only son, then in his twenty-third
year. At an early age Frederic had received a commission as captain of
cavalry, but as every body knows that promotion is slower in the army of
his Tuscan highness than in that of any other European power, he still
remained a captain of cavalry, and probably would do so unto his dying
day. It was his determination, as soon as he returned to Florence, to
resign his commission, and retire to his paternal estates in Germany,
but "diis aliter visum est," the fates had decreed otherwise. An
indulgent and fond father had spared no pains nor expense in educating
this his only child, and that child had amply repaid his care.

Educated most carefully in the strictest principles of the Christian
religion and morality, generous, brave, and humane, he was, when he
arrived to man's estate, the _beau ideal_ of a man of honor, and a
gentleman. By neither of these terms, do I mean that fashionable
personage whose god is himself, who would seduce his friend's wife or
sister, or strip him of his last farthing at a gaming table, and then
shoot him through the head, by way of making amends; or who scrupulously
discharges all gambling and betting debts; utterly neglecting those of
the poor tradesman, or industrious mechanic, but the "justum et tenacem
propositi virum," of the Roman satirist, the man of strict integrity,
and immoveable principles. Frederic had long since formed a
determination, that as soon as he could clear himself from the army, he
would most seriously incline himself to the search of a wife. Although
considered by his fair-haired countrywomen as lawful game, and moreover
as one who was well worth securing, he had hitherto escaped any very
serious affection of the heart. The beauty of Bianca, so unlike what he
had been accustomed to, had charmed him; her unaffected modesty had
commanded his respect; and when he left her father's house, he
determined that it was absolutely necessary to his comfort, to see her
again. Accordingly the next evening, and the next, and many succeeding
evenings, saw him riding towards old Morelli's cottage; and he had long
been convinced, from what he saw of Bianca, that he had at last found
the woman who only of all her sex could make him happy; which is
precisely what every man thinks when in love for the first time, and
alters his mind in less than a twelvemonth. Nor was the gentle Bianca
insensible to his evident partiality for her society; she detected
herself repeatedly, without being willing to acknowledge it, wishing for
evening--disappointed, if the sky was overcast, or the weather
rainy--fluttering with hope, and joy, and indescribable emotion, at the
sight of every distant cavalier, or at the sound of every horse's hoof
upon the road towards the city. The warm blush, the speaking smile, the
sparkling eyes, of both the lovely Bianca and the young soldier, would
have been sufficient to convince the most casual observer that there
existed the most decided case of a _serious affection of the heart_. Of
course old Morelli's eyes had long before seen and made due report to
his mind, as to what was the true state of his daughter's and the young
nobleman's affection. Ever anxious for Bianca's happiness and welfare,
and still more so now that she had attained that age when female beauty
is both mature and fully developed, while at the same time it has all
the freshness and rosiness of youth, he became exceedingly alarmed and
agitated at the too obvious state of the lover's sentiments. He sought
and soon obtained an opportunity of speaking to him, and Frederic was at
that moment anxious to see the old man, and putting to him that
question, which, whether addressed to the fair one in person, or to her
pa and ma, is always embarrassing; always makes a man look, and feel,
and act, very much like a fool; and when answered in the affirmative,
is not unfrequently the forerunner of most sincere and hearty
repentance. In fact, repentance being so often the consequence of
marriage, (it is gravely asserted by some of the old fathers,) is in our
mind reason why Catholics regard it (that is, the marriage, not the
repentance) a sacrament, "because it produces repentance, which is a
step towards grace." I am so far a Catholic, as to admit most
cheerfully, that it is a holy state, and that there is no text in
scripture more true, than that "it is not good for man to be alone;"
still if I was about entering that holy state, I am sadly afraid that my
feelings would be wholly uninfluenced by any hopes of approaching any
nearer towards a state of grace, not even over the thorny path of the
consequent repentance.

"Signior Count," began old Morelli, as soon as he had ascertained that
they were alone, "you cannot suppose me ignorant of the cause of your
frequent visits to my poor house, or that as a father I am so
indifferent to my daughter's happiness as to see it without extreme
anxiety."

"I was about speaking to you on the same subject," said Frederic,
hesitatingly, "I have already told you that it is my fixed determination
to leave the army, and retire to peaceful life on my own estate. But
although my fortune is princely, I feel it would be valueless without
your lovely daughter. Signior Morelli, I love Bianca; I have made no
attempt to conceal it from you; were my intentions dishonorable, do you
not think that I would endeavor to hide them from a father's eye? Do
you take me for the bold, hardened libertine that would trample under
foot a father's hospitality to accomplish his daughter's infamy? You
wrong me, Signior, if you do; but I cannot believe that in your dislike
to my country, you believe all her children base and unprincipled."

"Nay, my young friend, I believe nothing of that detestable character
can be laid to your charge. But consider for a moment the immense
distance between you. You are an Austrian nobleman of high rank and of
ancient family, and Bianca, on the other hand, can boast of nothing but
her good name and unsullied character."

"And does not virtue outweigh all worldly titles and distinctions in the
estimation of every rational and virtuous mind? Your lovely daughter's
virtues are far superior to my empty titles or immense wealth. In
accepting me as a husband, she would confer honor, not receive it. She
descends to my level; I do not and cannot rise to hers--the gain, the
honor, the advantage, of such an alliance would be mine."

"You are an enthusiast, Count; your passion has gotten the better of
your judgment; that you love my daughter _now_ I am perfectly willing to
admit, but that your affection for her will sustain the shock of the
ridicule of your associates, or the contempt and neglect with which your
proud and titled kindred and countrymen will treat such a wife, whom
they regard so infinitely beneath them, I very much doubt. Matches
between people so widely separated by difference of rank, however
arbitrary and absurd those distinctions may be, can never produce aught
but unhappiness."

The Count was, notwithstanding the reasonableness of old Morelli's
objections, as politely obstinate as young lovers are to old fathers,
when those old fathers condescend to reason with them instead of
resorting to the more usual and summary process of turning them out of
doors, and forbidding their daughters to hold any farther communication
with the dear rejected. In a subsequent conversation with his daughter
he found that both parties were nearly in the same situation; Bianca
with many tears confessing her love for Count Altenberg. There seemed
then but two chances to escape from this state of embarrassment, namely,
either to consent to Frederic's offer of his hand, or to send his
daughter to an aged relative at Padua; which last plan was liable to so
many objections that, after ruminating upon it for two days, he gave it
up, and permitted the lovers to enjoy each other's society, though
without giving a direct consent to their union.

In the mean time the libertine Plindorf was plotting destruction to the
fair Bianca. He well knew that such a woman was not to be carried by the
usual attacks of flattery and money; which last, whether administered in
the form of rich and dazzling presents, or simply by itself, is almost
uniformly found irresistible by old and young women, according to their
tastes or situations; his plan was therefore necessarily more deeply
laid than any he had heretofore practised. It was accordingly with a
mingled emotion of pleasure and anxiety that he watched the progress of
the attachment between the two lovers. Although he feared that her
attachment might prove too strong to be easily shaken, he still hoped to
be able to involve them in embarrassments, and then, under the guise of
friendship and pretence of assisting them, further his own unprincipled
views. The impetuosity of the young nobleman, and certain circumstances
that he could not foresee, brought the affair to a crisis both
unexpected and disastrous.

The Baron walked out one afternoon towards old Morelli's cottage,
without any fixed object, for the unequivocal dislike that Bianca always
manifested towards him, had determined him to cease his visits to her
father's house, and make his approaches with the utmost caution. He
approached a retired spot near the house, where the lovers frequently
strolled to enjoy each other's society. Bianca had also wandered there
in the hope of meeting Frederic. She was occupied gathering flowers, and
arranging them in a nosegay, when a rustling among the bushes attracted
her attention. She hastily advanced towards the spot, exclaiming
"Frederic!" when the Baron, the man whom of all others she most hated,
and, for some undefinable reason or other, feared, stood before her.

"Fairest Bianca!" said Plindorf, advancing, "let me not alarm you,
although I am not the person you seemed to expect; let me hope that the
presence of a friend and well-wisher to both parties is not disagreeable
or terrifying."

Bianca, exceedingly alarmed at the sudden apparition of one so odious to
her, had sunk down upon a rude seat. The Baron approached, and taking
her passive hand, seated himself by her side. Mistaking the cause of her
quietness, he ventured to press her trembling hand to his lips, and
attempted to pass his arm around her waist. The terrified girl suddenly
sprang from him with a loud shriek, and attempted to fly; the Baron
again caught her hand, and endeavored forcibly to detain her. At that
moment the Count Altenberg suddenly stood before them, his eyes flashing
with rage.

"Villain," he exclaimed, as soon as his passion would give him
utterance, "deceitful, cowardly scoundrel! take that"--striking him a
violent blow, and at the same time unsheathing his sword.

The Baron was ready in an instant, but as soon as the Count felt his
weapon clashing against that of his antagonist, he became at once cool
and composed. Not so Plindorf, he dashed at his more youthful opponent
with a fury that had well nigh brought the combat to a speedy and fatal
issue, and compelled Frederic to exert his utmost skill. The peculiar
danger of his situation, and almost certain death or remediless disgrace
that awaited him, even if victorious, for having struck his superior
officer, were present to the mind of the young officer in gloomy and
terrible colors; but it was too late to retract. The fury of the Baron
threw him off his guard--he received a mortal wound, and fell dead. The
unhappy survivor stood for some seconds gazing upon the inanimate form
before him; and as the features, after being convulsed for a little,
settled into the iron stiffness of everlasting sleep, he uttered a deep
sigh, and unconsciously moved away from the spot. At this moment Bianca,
recovering from the stupor into which the terrible scene had thrown her,
earnestly enjoined him to fly.

"There is no time to be lost," said the agonized girl; "fly at once to
the sea-side--go on board any vessel that is about sailing--in a few
days, I doubt not, this unhappy business will be hushed up."

"And where shall I fly?" said the Count; "where shall I go from
_him_?"--indicating the slain nobleman by a movement of his hand--"do
you know what I have done? I have in one moment sentenced myself to
death; or, what is worse, to disgraceful and infamous privation of all
my honors and rank."

"No, no--there is yet time--go immediately on board the American
man-of-war in the harbor--they dare not search for you there."

With many entreaties and tears, she prevailed upon him to take measures
for his safety; and with a lightened heart saw him, from the windows of
her father's house, reach the water-side uninterrupted; saw him leave
the shore in a little skiff, when the intervention of other objects hid
him from her sight.

The two officers were missed that evening. The dead body of the
ill-fated Baron was soon discovered; for many had seen him going towards
old Morelli's cottage; but no traces of Count Altenberg have ever been
discovered. Morelli and his daughter underwent a rigid examination; the
former could throw no light upon the mysterious disappearance of
Frederic, but Bianca, the pure-minded Bianca, unreservedly related all
the circumstances. The examining officers forwarded an elaborate and
circumstantial report of the case to Vienna, accompanied by an earnest
petition in behalf of the absent Count. The Emperor laid the affair
before a select council of old and experienced officers, who, after due
deliberation, and weighing the excellence of Altenberg's character
against the depravity of his slain antagonist, suggested the expediency
of pardoning the offender. Proclamation was accordingly made to that
effect, but without success.

The unhappy Bianca lived to experience, in all its bitterness, that
"hope deferred that maketh the heart sick" and eventually breaks it.
She died in less than two years after the flight of Frederic, a victim
to a disorder that has no place in the catalogue of nosologists, and is
not recognised as a malady; though it is as incurable and consigns
almost as many victims to an untimely grave as consumption, with which
it is very frequently confounded--I mean a broken heart. She was buried,
according to her dying request, in the little arbor that Frederic had
assisted her to erect and adorn, and where she had passed those most
delightful moments in human existence, the days of the first love, and
first courtship, of two young, affectionate, and virtuous beings.
Blessed moments! that occur but once in the dreary threescore years and
ten, and fade away before we have time to enjoy them, and we only become
conscious of their existence from the certainty that they are gone for
ever.

                 *       *       *       *       *

Several years ago, and, if I am not much mistaken, just after the peace
of 1815, an officer, in full Austrian uniform, came on board one of our
frigates then lying in the harbor of Genoa. From the richness of his
regimentals, and a cross and ribbon in his button-hole, it was evident
that the stranger was of high ancestral and military rank.

It so happened that he came on board just at "grog time," (four o'clock)
in the afternoon; and during the interesting moment that sailors are
discussing their whiskey--the whole Holy Alliance, with aids and prime
ministers and protocols, might come on board, and balance Europe, or
upset the scales, just as unto them seemed good, expedient, or politic,
without attracting any attention from these short-jacketed philosophers;
unless indeed some straggler from the upper deck might come below, and
casually inform his messmates, that "there was a whole raft of soger
officers on the quarter-deck;" for be it known to all concerned, that the
word number is seldom or never used by nautical philologists to
designate things numerable, it is always "a _raft_ of women," "a raft of
marines," &c. I could easily go on to show that the word "raft" is a
good phrase, and peculiarly applicable to women and marines; but I must
resist the temptation of convincing the public, that sailors are as
deeply versed in the mysteries of their mother-tongue, as many of those
who stay ashore all their life-times, and make dictionaries.

The day after the arrival of this military stranger, it was ascertained
by the crew, that there was a supernumerary on board by the name of
Williams; for it is as impossible for the commander and officers of a
man-of-war to keep a secret in the cabin, as it is for twelve "good men
and true," locked up in a jury-room. The new-comer seemed to have free
access to the cabin, and was treated with much respect by the officers,
but it was soon observed, by the seamen, that he never went on shore. In
the course of a few months, he was put on board a homeward-bound ship:
and when the crew of the frigate returned to America, they saw him
again in New York, abandoned to intemperance.

When on a cruise in the Pacific, the crew of one of the light vessels of
the squadron were transferred to the frigate that I was on board of;
their time of service having expired. Among them was Williams; and from
his shipmates I learned the above particulars. In person, he was about
five feet eight or nine inches high, and extremely well made. With the
rest of the schooner's people, he had been on shore on liberty, where he
had been continually intoxicated; his face was in consequence bloated,
and his eyes bloodshot and swollen.

I further understood, that he would get drunk whenever he had an
opportunity, and when intoxicated he was completely insane. He was also
subject to fits of temporary derangement, independent of the insanity
produced by excessive drinking, when he was both furious and dangerous;
and it was always necessary, on such occasions, to confine him in irons.
He was also represented as being extremely reserved, and refusing to
answer any questions respecting himself, whether addressed to him by
officers or seamen; that he spoke with fluency all European languages,
on which account, he was extremely useful as an interpreter, both on the
coast of Peru and Chili, and on that of Brazil; that he was a first rate
swordsman, either with the small-sword or sabre, and a dead shot with
pistol or musket.

During his short stay on board the frigate, he had one of his temporary
fits of insanity, probably induced by excessive intemperance, if
intemperance admits of superlatives, while on shore. He suddenly started
up from a gloomy, stupid reverie, and ran about the decks like a wild
beast, striking and knocking down, every one he met; then all at once
plunging down the main-hatchway, he attempted to get possession of one
of the boarding cutlasses, but fortunately they were well secured in the
racks over the guns, to prevent them from falling down with the motion
of the ship. Before he could make a second and more regular attempt, he
was secured, put in irons, and placed under charge of a sentry. Had he
succeeded in arming himself, he would have made bloody work on the
quarter-deck, towards which it seemed evident he was steering his course;
the uniforms of the officers, and marine guard, probably calling up to
his diseased imagination, and memory, scenes of by-gone days connected
with or the remote cause of his present insanity. The officers seemed to
be so far acquainted with his history, as to feel compassion for his
most wretched situation; for, as he manifested no symptoms of
derangement the next morning, except his usual deep melancholy, he was
discharged from confinement, to the great astonishment of the ship's
company; for though the discipline on board was as mild as it could be
consistent with the preservation of good order, and perfectly free from
that tyranny that but too many of our navy officers think
indispensable, they certainly were not accustomed to seeing such quiet
jail deliveries.

Williams afterwards re-entered on board the same vessel that he came
from, and I lost sight of him of course, as our frigate was on the point
of quitting the station to return home. He has, in all probability, long
ere this, reached the grave towards which he seemed to be hurrying, with
all the speed of intemperance and insanity combined.




                      *       *       *       *       *

                                    MORTON

                      *       *       *       *       *




                                    MORTON.




CHAPTER I.

    Bel and the Dragon's chaplains were
    More moderate than these by far:
    For they, poor knaves, were glad to cheat,
    To get their wives and children meat;
    But these will not be fobb'd off so,
    They must have wealth and power too;
    Or else with blood and desolation
    They'll tear it out o' th' heart o' th' nation.--

                                        HUDIBRAS.


Notwithstanding the success of the many daring and lawless adventurers
who visited the Pacific Ocean, or "Great South Sea," as it is called in
the maps and travels of the period, and who reaped many a golden harvest
there, about the time of the first James and Charles of England, the
coasts washed by its waves were but seldom visited, and its waters
seldom ploughed by any other keels than those of discovery ships for
many years. Chili, Peru, Mexico, and California, after having been
definitively ceded to the Spanish crown, constituted an El Dorado, whose
gates could only be opened by a formal declaration of war. Spain was
generally considered by the other European powers to have a double right
to South America, namely, that of discovery and conquest; and after an
ineffectual struggle to wrest the golden prize from the grasp of its
legitimate possessor, England, and the rest of the "high contracting
powers," acquiesced in her possessing it, the more readily because they
wished the same kind of title should be acknowledged in their own case.
Accordingly discovery and conquest have, to this day, been considered as
good and lawful titles, and a sort of deed of conveyance, on the part of
the natives, to their discoverers and conquerors of all and sundry their
lands and landed estates, together with their goods and chattels, when
of any value.

His Most Catholic Majesty, then, finding his claim to the New World
fully established, set about civilizing his new conquest in good
earnest, and sending out swarms of priests, backed of course by the
military portion of the secular arm, with glory to God on their lips,
and hatred to his creatures in their hearts, with the sword in one hand
and the crucifix in the other, soon convinced the unhappy natives of
their damnable heresies. Their simple religion was destroyed, millions
perished by the sword or the tender mercies of the Holy Inquisition, and
as many more in the mines; and civilization and religion kissed each
other, and rested from their labors of love.

This was the most received method of converting whole nations at once,
then in vogue--we Protestants of the present day are far more humane; we
only distribute among the newly discovered nations of the earth, rum and
Calvinism, gunpowder and the venereal disease, and with these powerful
agents our missionaries and merchants, have succeeded in causing Dagon
to bow down before them--over all the civilized world. New Holland seems
to be the only uncivilized part of this watery ball, but New Holland
holds out no temptations to the missionary; the inhabitants are a little
too cannibally given, and martyrdom is altogether obsolete; besides, it
is doubted by our soundest theologians whether Christianity was ever
intended for a people so brutal and debased.

Spain, at the time I refer to, was renowned in arts and in arms; her
commerce extended from the East to the West Indies, and she was for a
time one of the most powerful of the kingdoms of Europe. Her priests,
finding the New World a land overflowing, not exactly with milk and
honey, but with what in all ages and in all countries is considered
infinitely better, gold and silver, and abounding in every thing that
could pamper the pride and gratify the sense, founded churches and
monasteries, while her viceroys built cities and forts, and South
America became the richest jewel in the diadem of His Catholic Majesty.
To secure this jewel entirely to himself seems to have been his chief
anxiety, and accordingly all foreigners were rigidly excluded from its
sea-ports, and although the "Assiento," or contract for supplying the
colonies with African slaves, was enjoyed successively by the English
and French, both of whom successively abused it by smuggling immense
quantities of their respective manufactures into those colonies, the
duty of supplying them with European merchandise was carried on finally
solely by means of register ships, as they were called, Cadiz being the
only European port where they were permitted to load and discharge.

The whaling ships were only permitted to procure supplies, or "recruit,"
as our unctuous brethren of Nantucket call it, at certain fixed and
well-fortified ports. Still even these managed to carry on quite a
respectable business in the smuggling way, especially with the ports of
Mexico and California.

But a new flea was about getting into Don Diego's ear--the peace of
1783, while it added an infant giant to the catalogue of earthly
"principalities and powers," also liberated from the fetters of
commercial, as well as political restraints, a people active, restless,
daring, prying, and enterprising to the last degree; a people whose
skill in navigation and swift-sailing vessels rendered them absolutely
intangible to an enemy that took occasion to chase them, while their
courage, when they thought proper to "stand to it," as dame Quickly
says, made them dangerous antagonists. This the reader probably
"guesses" must be brother Jonathan, and he guesses about right. The same
spirit of restless curiosity that prompts a cat, when she sets up her
Ebenezer in a new house, to examine every portion of it, from cellar to
garret, seemed to have possessed our grandpas more strongly than it does
us of the present age.

This national character of ours is owing doubtless to our having been
placed by the hand of Heaven in an immense unexplored region, and was no
doubt much increased by the spirit-stirring scenes of the revolutionary
war, which beheld our "old continentals" one day ferreting out the
long-tailed Hessians from the woods of Saratoga, and another "doing
battle right manfullie" on the plains of South Carolina.

While they of the land service were pushing their advanced posts to the
foot of the Rocky Mountains, our seamen were carrying our striped
bunting into every portion of the navigable world. Such were the people
whose arrival in the Pacific the Spanish commandantes and viceroys
awaited with no small fear and trembling. They knew vaguely that we had
just come off victorious from a long, fierce, and bloody struggle with
powerful England, and while they consigned us pell-mell to the devil, as
"malditos Americanos," they doubted whether we had the additional claim
to go there upon the strength of being heretics. The captains of the
guarda-costas redoubled their vigilance, and sailed in chase of not a
few albatrosses and whale-spouts, such was the zeal that animated them.

I should have described these redoubtable crafts, the guarda-costas,
before--they were armed vessels of different classes, varying from light
frigates down to mere gunboats, and were distributed along the coasts to
protect trade, and prevent smuggling.

When however these formidable strangers did arrive, the readiness with
which they conformed to the numerous, and in most cases vexatious, port
regulations, their quiet behavior on shore, and the many novelties and
luxuries that they freely distributed to the port officers, completely
blinded them to the instinctive disposition to trade that characterizes
my beloved countrymen, especially the New Englanders, who were the first
to carry our flag into the Pacific, as they were also the first to
display it in Europe.

I have made these long-winded and apparently uncalled-for remarks partly
to show my learning, but chiefly in conformity with the fashion of the
day, that requires that every story, long or short, should be ushered in
by at least one chapter of prefatory remarks. I do not intend to be so
unreasonable; but before this my first chapter is finished, shall give
my readers an idea of my purposed principal scene of operations.

If then, the reader will turn to the proper map, he will find in about
the latitude of twenty-one north, Cape Corrientes; and not far from this
three islands, called Las Tres Marias; the Three Marys, that is, so
named after the three Marys of the New Testament.

Geographers, when they make maps, seem to start with the notion that
there must be a certain number of islands, &c. inserted in each map; and
when they have located the larger and more important ones within fifteen
or twenty degrees of latitude and longitude of their proper places,
which is as near as they commonly come to the truth, they proceed to
distribute the remainder according to their own taste. In compliance
with this fashion of theirs, they have laid down upon all modern maps,
especially those that are called the best, and in nearly the latitude
that I have above mentioned, and longitude that I have not, namely,
about one hundred and fifteen west from Greenwich Observatory, a little
island which they call Revalligigedos. I have passed twice over the spot
where this little island with the big name "stays put," in all maps by
them, and have conversed with many whalemen and others, who, taken
collectively, have sailed over every square inch of salt water in that
place, and none of them have seen it. So too, they have studded the
ocean off Cape Horn so thickly with islands, that a landsman wonders how
a ship of any size can manage to squeeze through into the Pacific. I
have passed that cape three times, and have been working to windward off
them some weeks, but although we always kept a bright look-out for ice
islands and strange vessels, we never, to use a vulgar expression, saw
"hide or hair" of these supererogatory islands.

But to return; in a direction nearly east from the Three Marys, the
reader will find, on most maps, a small river, called by the Spaniards,
in their usual style of bombast, El Rio Grande, or the Great River;
though the identical legs that I now stand upon have waded across it at
low water, and, except cutting my foot with an oyster-shell, there was
nothing very remarkable in the exploit. At the mouth of this mighty
stream is an island on which stands the town of St. Blas.

The Spaniards, as it is well known, when they discovered America,
christened every cape, bay, mountain, river, island, rock, or shoal
after some saint or other, but the learned are somewhat puzzled to know
who this St. Blas can be. In my poor opinion, the difficulty is easily
enough got over--the word Blas is only a corruption of Blast, and
accordingly we shall find that St. Blast, properly so called, is neither
more nor less than our old friend Æolus, of the heathen mythology,
smuggled into the calendar, who, being the god of blasts and puffs,
might well be canonized under the name of St. Blast, without doing
violence to the tender consciences of the good Catholics. In this way,
according to Dean Swift, Jupiter became Jew Peter, and by a natural
transition, _Saint_ Peter. Whether he is right or not, one thing is
certain, that sundry temples, of which the veritable Jupiter has been
"seized in fee tail," I think lawyers call it, from time immemorial,
have quietly become "St. Peter's churches," to the great edification of
the Christian world, and incredible advancement of religion and piety.

The island, upon which St. Blas is perched, slopes off gradually to the
eastward, but to the south and west descends in a sheer precipice of two
or three hundred feet in height. The town was taken and retaken several
times during the sanguinary war of the Mexican revolution. The last time
it was in the hands of the royalists, they compelled all the male
inhabitants, and, report says, not a few women and children besides,
that they suspected of favoring the Patriot cause, to leap off this
precipice. Soldiers were stationed at the foot of the cliff, to despatch
those who reached the bottom with any signs of life. This piece of
information I had from a widow who kept a shop in the _Plaza_, and who
also told me, "with weeping tears," that her husband was one of the
number who took the fearful leap.

Rather on the north-west side, the hill is surmountable by a zig-zag
path, up which a loaded mule can climb with some difficulty. On the
west, or seaward, side, is a strip of flat land, of considerable width,
on which formerly stood the royal arsenal, rope-walks, and warehouses,
the ruins of which were standing in 1822, when I visited the place. On
the western extremity of this level land is a small village, called, as
usual in such cases, the Porte, or landing place. The bay, which is a
fine harbor, sweeps far to the eastward, when the land, trending away to
the southward, with a slight inclination westerly, becomes lost in the
distance. The more immediate, or inner, harbor, is formed by a point of
land opposite the Porte, on the southern extremity of which is a
battery, formerly of considerable dimensions, and strength, but since
suffered to decay, and is much reduced in effectiveness. It was intended
to command the harbor and anchorage; but with Spanish artillerymen, a
mile offing, and reasonably good weather, a ship would be as safe from
its fire, for three months at least, as though she was all the while in
London Docks.

At the distance of two or three miles from the usual anchorage, and
forming an excellent leading mark for the bay, is Pedro Blanco, or the
White Rock, of two hundred feet height, perfectly precipitous and
inaccessible, and resembling a huge tower, rising abruptly from the sea.

Taken altogether, the bay of St. Blas forms a very beautiful prospect,
with the Andes in the back ground, which, with their

    "Meteor standard to the winds unfurl'd,
    Look from their throne of clouds o'er half the world;"

its white sand beach, fading gradually away to the south and east, its
town roosting on its barren rock, and indistinctly seen; its low lands
covered with a luxuriant growth of lime and other trees; and lastly, by
way of seasoning, its moschetoes and sand-flies.




CHAPTER II.

    A knight he was, whose very sight would
    Entitle him mirror of knighthood.
                                        HUDIBRAS.


Tropical climates have certainly one advantage over all others, that is
not to be held in light esteem. They have rainy and dry seasons, that
are exclusively rainy and dry. During six months, or nearly as long, the
windows of heaven stand wide open, by night and by day, and the liquid
blessing descends upon the thirsty earth beneath "in one lot," as
auctioneers say; while on the other hand, the dry season has its great
and manifold advantages and pleasures. With us in the temperate zone, as
geographers call it, I suppose, for want of another name, a man does not
think of riding twenty miles without India rubbers, a great coat, boots,
and an umbrella, to say nothing of an entire change of raiment, if he is
a prudent, cautious old bachelor, or widower; and even then he is as
likely to get a ducking as to have fine weather.

During a tropical dry season, on the contrary, a journey of two hundred
miles may be safely undertaken, without any of these encumbrances; with
two or three clean shirts, a man may scamper about for months, like a
Roman light-infantryman, "impedimentis relictis," unless he should be so
ill advised as to carry his wife and children with him.

Throughout the rainy season, many diseases arise, and make great
destruction among those who remain on the sea-coast; those who can
afford it, retreat to the more salubrious mountain regions, while, as
aforesaid, those who stay behind, being generally the poor, the
worthless, and the useless part of the community, fall victims to the
numerous diseases generated by the excessive rains, and the then swampy
condition of the country. This annual purgation of society, is perhaps
another blessing of a tropical country. I know of more than one
community, whose moral, and in some measure physical health, would in my
mere mortal and short sighted notion of the fitness of things, be vastly
benefited by the visitation of an energetic, wide sweeping epidemic.
Human society is very like a grate full of ignited anthracite coal,
those parts of it that have lost their combustibility, and become
worthless, are constantly filtering down through the bottom of the
grate; and so in society, those individuals, who are daily falling from
a state of grace in the eyes of their fellow-worms, either as regards
fashion, or property, or reputation, go to swell the number of the
outcasts from the ranks of "good society;" a convenient phrase that has
recently been invented, and signifies the speaker's own particular
friends and acquaintances, though he and they may be at that very
moment getting out stone on Blackwell's Island. So you see, reader, that
it is fore-ordained, for I am a good deal of a fatalist, that one of the
ingredients of civilized society should be a certain proportion of poor
miserable devils, such as you and I both know.

It was just at the close of the rainy season, when Nature looked
infinitely better and fresher for having her face washed, though she had
been six months about it; the air seemed purer and more healthful, and
the sky looked clearer and of a richer blue, for the half year's
drenching; it was at this particular time of the year, that we have
thought proper to raise the curtain, and introduce the reader into the
business part of the story.

It was between ten and eleven o'clock in the forenoon, the land breeze
had done blowing, and the usual interregnum of calm, previous to the
commencement of the sea-breeze, had taken place--the broad bay lay like
a huge mirror, varied indeed by the long and regular undulations of the
swell from the main ocean, which, though perhaps sufficient to
discompose a landman's stomach, would not affect that of a sailor, who
would probably testify under oath, that the water was "just as smooth as
a mill-pond." The pelican, that grave and contemplative bird, sat on the
rocks near the water's edge, with his neck coiled up and stowed away in
some recess in his capacious crop, the fish forgetting, or sailed on
lazy wings across the bay, to seek some sequestered spot to doze away
the time, and digest his huge breakfast--the graceful white crane of
Mexico was wading about, flapping her wings, to drive the small fish
into shoaler water, where she might pick them up at her leisure--the
gaudy Spanish ensign, resembling three flannel petticoats, two red and
one yellow, hung lifeless by its staff, as though said petticoats had
just got through a hard day's washing--a soldier, with a paper segar in
his mouth, was lounging backwards and forwards on that part of the
parapet of the battery next the sea, while another, his counterpart, was
"doing military duty" in the same soldierly manner on the quay opposite.

I may as well explain to the reader now as at a future time, that every
collection of houses in South America, however small, has an open space
in the centre, called the Plaza; and an American Spaniard could no more
conceive of a town or village without such plaza, than he could form one
of Mr. Locke's abstract ideas of a horse, which ceases to be an abstract
idea the moment it becomes invested with a body, head, legs, mane, tail,
saddle, bridle, belly-band, or crupper.

In the plaza of the Porte before mentioned was a multifarious
assemblage: the barrack for a captain's guard, with the arms of the
guard piled in front of it, formed one side, and the others were bounded
by the quay or different buildings; a detachment of idlers were sunning
themselves, and engaged in relieving each other from certain troublesome
companions, that _invariably_ infest the clothes and hair of all
Spaniards and Russians, from the king to the beggar; jackasses, boys,
and dogs occupied the rest of the square, and were differently engaged.
At this moment a sergeant ran into the square, exclaiming, "el
Commandante!" The military guard fell into their ranks at the tap of the
drum, the idlers and boys took up a strong position in one corner, the
jackasses were cudgelled into a retreat, while the dogs, like the pigs
in New York, being free of the city, provided for themselves. A moment
or two elapsed after these preparations had been made, when a party of
mounted officers dashed into the square at full gallop, as the South
Americans always ride. The guard presented arms, the dogs barked their
congratulations, and the party, having lighted fresh segars, walked down
to the quay, directly opposite which lay an old dismantled Spanish
frigate, and moored alongside her was a schooner, whose formidable
length of main boom, and raking masts, announced her both a clipper and
a Yankee. She was indeed an American schooner, that had been taken
"flagrante delicto," in the very act of smuggling, for which she was
condemned, and her crew sent to the mines. Such was the jealousy of the
"authorities," that they unshipped the rudder, and unrove the running
rigging, for fear she might go to sea of her own accord, and resume her
smuggling voyage without the assistance of human agency.

The party whom we have left smoking on the wharf, consisted of the
military commandant, or governor, of St. Blas, Don Gaspar de Luna, Don
Diego Pinto, the commander of a guarda-costa of eighteen guns, that lay
in the offing, and which, to the most unpractised eye, bore about the
same resemblance to an English or American man of war of the same class,
as an old, worn-out jackass does to a handsome, high spirited, well
groomed race-horse. The rest of the group was made up of young officers
"of no mark or likelihood," and with whom we have nothing to do, with
the exception of Don Gregorio Nunez, a dashing young cavalry officer,
related to the viceroy, report said his natural son, and report said too
that he was soon to marry the lovely niece of the governor; but the
destinies were altogether of a different way of thinking. His character
may be despatched in a few words--he was a vain coxcomb, his whole soul
lay in his gorgeous uniform, and he had a mortal antipathy to any thing
like duty.

Don Gaspar de Luna, the redoubted governor of St. Blas and its
"dependencies," bore the rank of colonel in the Spanish army. He had
seen some service, having been present at the memorable siege of
Gibraltar, that excited first the astonishment and then the ridicule of
all Europe--astonishment at the immensity of the armament prepared, and
ridicule on account of its inefficiency, in wasting years before the
place without doing any thing. An advanced party commanded by Don
Gaspar, then a captain, had the good fortune to get soundly thrashed by
a sallying detachment from the garrison; and the king of Spain was so
delighted that _something_ had been done, that he promoted the fortunate
captain to a colonelcy.

In early life he had been in America with his regiment, where he had
married a native Peruvian woman, by whom he had two daughters. In person
he was about the middling height, and so far resembled an ellipse as
this, that his transverse diameter nearly equalled his conjugate, or, in
plain English, he was about as broad as long. He prided himself not a
little upon being a "Castiliano," or genuine old Spaniard, and
professed, and probably felt, the most implacable hatred to all
heretics, especially English and Americans; but it was evidently an
abstract feeling, for the moment a vessel of either nation arrived,
which happened very often during the dry season, and the commanders
began to make those little presents that they always found it for their
interest to make, his orthodox zeal began, like Bob Acres' courage, "to
ooze away through his fingers."

Although in the main a kind and indulgent father, his affections were
centred in his niece, of whom we shall have occasion to speak more at
large, whom he preferred to his daughter, and with good reason. He was
fond of punch, such as he used to find in plenty and perfection on board
the strange ships, and which he could drill none of his household into
the art and mystery of making, except his niece; fonder of flattery, and
compliment, and salutes, from the heretical captains; and perhaps
fondest of all of invitations to dine on board such ships as seemed to
hold out hopes of good cheer. When a foreign vessel arrived, one would
think, from his parade and flourish, that he expected an invasion; but
it was all show. He was fond of telling long stories, and of sitting
long over the bottle, foregoing the usual luxury of the _siesta_, or nap
after dinner, to enjoy the greater one of drinking; but, although his
capacious stomach would contain an incredible quantity of wine, no one
could say that he had ever been seen "the worse for liquor."

The duties of his station were but trifling; for, although St. Blas was
a royal naval depot, the commanders of his majesty's ships almost
invariably preferred Callao, on account of its vicinity to the viceregal
court at Lima. Any other person would have pined to death in such a
remote and solitary corner of the earth, without society and without
employment; but Don Gaspar was one of those peculiarly constituted
individuals, who, having neither the faculty to communicate or receive
new ideas, are as happy and contented in one place as another. He had
come down to the water side at full gallop, and at the imminent risk of
his neck, in consequence of a report, that a large, armed English ship,
that was known to be on the coast trading, was approaching the Bay of
St. Blas.

The nautical commander, Don Diego Pinto, was a man of upwards of sixty
years of age, who had grown grey in the navy of Spain, without seeing
any service of consequence. He had followed one of the viceroys, to whom
he was recommended, to Peru, and the viceroy thought he had sufficiently
done his duty to his _protégé_ by appointing him to the command of a
guarda-costa of eighteen guns, stationed at St. Blas, and including in
her cruising ground St. Josef, Mazattan, and the entrance to the Gulf of
California. His prey was good, and his duty was light; but all his hopes
of promotion were cut off by being stationed at what was generally
considered the "ultima Thule," the very extremity of the navigable
world.

The Yankees, to be sure, scorned any such fanciful restrictions, and had
long since penetrated to Nootka Sound and Behring's Straits, "the
hunters of the mighty whale;" but then the Yankees were a very singular
and peculiar race, and nobody in their senses cared to imitate them in
their wild, and sometimes lawless, rambles over the face of the
ocean--lawless, I wish to be understood, no farther than in sometimes
forgetting to inquire, in a strange port, whether there was any
custom-house there or not, and in most ports conceiving it to be the
duty of the collectors of the customs to come on board and secure the
duties, and if said collectors did not bear a hand and attend to their
business, why then Jonathan, who is always in a hurry, was apt to land
his cargo without the knowledge and without the leave of the
custom-house officers.

Don Diego's hatred to heretics and foreigners, unlike that of the
illustrious governor, was cordial and sincere, and by no means a general
or abstract principle--he hated every individual as heartily as he did
the whole species. He would never accept or even reply to an invitation
from an English or American commander; and in the case of the American
schooner already mentioned, he had treated the crew with such savage
barbarity, that, but for the interference of Don Gaspar, they would have
perished from starvation and ill treatment. He was by no means a
favorite guest at the governor's house; the ladies of the family
detested him, not so much for his cruelty, for they heard but little of
that, but for his morose and churlish disposition, and, perhaps more
than either, on account of the general belief that his wife, a lovely
woman, and much younger than himself, had fallen a victim to his
unkindness and cruelty.

Women, the dear creatures, have an infinitely larger share of _esprit du
corps_, if I may so call it, or rather a community of feeling, than men.
Nothing will ruin a man's character and good name among the females of
his acquaintance so soon or so effectually as the reputation of ill
treatment or unkindness to his wife, while the men would think but
little or nothing of it. Women think, and feel, and act most correctly
and justly, and in a manner that does them infinite honor, upon this
subject; indeed, I am fully convinced, that on most questions of social
morality, the feelings of women are more pure and right than those of
men. But they have a thousand ingenious methods of making known their
contempt and detestation of the cowardly scoundrel that would raise his
hand against one of their sex, and every method cuts like a two-edged
sword. I have known, and do at this moment know, many men who have
endured the contempt and hatred of their fellow-_men_ with the most
stoical indifference--they went on hated and despised to the grave, but
they made money at every step, and they cared for nothing else; but I
never, in all my life, and in all my wanderings--and I have not
travelled about this watery ball, nor so far through life, with my eyes
and ears shut--I never knew a man who did not wince and writhe under the
hatred and contempt of the other sex. I am not a profound believer in
innate ideas, if they are such ridiculous ones as metaphysicians talk
of--namely, that two and two make four, and such sort of nonsense--but I
do believe in certain innate principles and feelings, that govern our
thoughts and actions as powerfully and irresistibly as instinct impels
the brute creation; and that one of those principles is an innate desire
to please and secure the good opinion of the opposite sex, born with
every man and woman, or at least developed, more or less strongly, in
very early childhood, and that too without any instruction or hint from
others.

While the party stood on the quay, puffing their segars with all the
gravity and silence that was becoming their rank and birth as officers
of his Catholic Majesty and natives of old Spain, a subaltern officer
approached, and, with abundance of parade and obsequiousness, informed
the governor that there was a ship in the offing, becalmed at that time,
but apparently bound in. The officer proceeded to inform him farther,
that there were two American ships at St. Josef, one at Monteny, and
that a fourth had been seen the day before at sea, standing to the
southward. His excellency, though not particularly indignant at the idea
of his principality being visited by a foreign vessel, thought proper to
appear "brimful of wrath" at the intelligence.

"Ah! those accursed and heretical wretches! they swarm upon this coast
as thick as sand-flies."

"And should be destroyed by the same means, by fire," growled his naval
associate; "they should be burnt at their anchors wherever they are
found; for if they have not already been guilty of any violation of the
laws, they very soon will."

"Signor Pinto," said the more humane and considerate governor, "you are
to recollect that our gracious sovereign is on terms of peace and amity
with this new people, who have lately come into existence, and who seem
to be driven by the devils to wander abroad, instead of passing their
lives peaceably at home. We cannot therefore treat them as enemies; and
even when taken in violation of the laws, they must be heard in their
own defence."

This grave rebuke rather mortified him of the marine department, and he
was for a few minutes sulky, which the governor perceiving, and not
wishing to offend him, again addressed him.

"But come, signor, cheer up. I know the sight of that schooner always
makes you feel unpleasantly; you cannot forget how she misled you one
dark night, and well nigh decoyed your ship ashore, by setting adrift a
light in a tub."

This was but cold comfort to the redoubtable sea-officer, who was by no
means fond of hearing the anecdote of the lantern in a tub repeated or
alluded to; and he was about making an angry answer, when the sight of
the schooner brought to his recollection that he had finally captured
her, and had enjoyed the fiendish pleasure of abusing and maltreating
her crew, and that, to crown his triumph, he had seen them set out for
the mines. Poor man! he did not know, what indeed was a kind of state
secret, that the viceroy, not wishing to embroil his sovereign in an
unpleasant quarrel, or, as he was about returning to old Spain, wishing
to leave behind him a character for clemency and humanity, had ordered
them to be set at liberty, and they had actually embarked at Acapulco on
board an English South Sea whaler. This had taken place a full year
previous; and while the vindictive Spaniard was chuckling over their
fancied sufferings "many a fathom deep" in the damp and unhealthy
galleries of a silver mine, the objects of his hatred were jogging along
comfortably towards London, with a full ship and light hearts.

In reply to the governor's "quip modest," he merely growled out
something about zeal in discharging his duty, and anxiety to prevent
smuggling, to which the governor replied,

"There is no danger of these foreigners smuggling, while they are so
strictly watched by his majesty's ships and faithful soldiers. I wish,
signor, you would go out with your ship, and bring this stranger in; I
do not like to see him hovering about in this suspicious manner."

"It is impossible to go out, now that the sea-breeze is just setting
in," said the naval officer, who had no more idea of working out with a
head wind, than he had of flying, though the bay is open enough for the
channel fleet to beat out in order of battle.

While this question was in agitation, an officer crossed in a skiff from
the battery, and informed Don Gaspar that the sea-breeze had set in
the offing, and that the stranger had hauled by the wind, and was
standing off shore; further, that she was an American whaleman, that had
probably pursued her huge prey close in shore. Don Gaspar was somewhat
disappointed at this intelligence.

"I almost wish she had come in," said he, in a low tone, "for, heretics
as they are, and damned to all eternity as they certainly will be, (for
which blessed be the saints,) it cannot be denied that the puncho, or
pontio, which they make, is most refreshing and delicious in this warm
weather."

But as the Yankee manifested no symptoms of coming in to anchor, and
thereby give him a chance for his glass of punch, he yielded to the
suggestion of Don Gregorio, his aid-de-camp; and having lighted fresh
segars, they mounted their horses, and rode back to San Blas.




CHAPTER III.

                                  A lady
    So fair, and fastened to an empery,
    Would make the great'st king double.

                                        CYMBELINE.


The family of Don Gaspar de Luna consisted of his wife, whom we have
already noticed as a native of Mexico, and two daughters, Antonia and
Carlota, who were rather pretty for Creole girls, and, like the
generality of Creoles, especially when one half is Spanish, extremely
ignorant and vulgar in their language and manners; the last trait being
somewhat characteristic of the Spanish-American women, if we may believe
travellers, to which I may add my own somewhat limited observation. They
are, however, by way of amends, more civilized and sociable in their
behaviour to strangers, and much more intelligent, than the men.

The lovely niece of the governor, the orphan daughter of his brother,
made up the list of his family. As we have no great concern with the old
lady and her two daughters, we have mentioned them first, in order to
get them out of our way; but as the fair Isabella will make some figure
in our pages, we can do no less than devote a chapter, or part of a
chapter, to giving some account and description of her, more
particularly as she differs, _toto coelo_, from her cousins, morally,
and, in many respects, physically.

Isabella de Luna was the daughter of Signor Anastasio de Luna, the only
brother of Don Gaspar. He was an eminent merchant of Cadiz, who, having
found it necessary to go to London on business, had afterwards found it
equally necessary to remain there for some time, to attend to his
mercantile affairs. Here he became acquainted with a Miss Campbell, a
Scotch lady of about thirty years of age, very beautiful, but poor. Her
father had been taken prisoner at the defeat of the Pretender's army at
Culloden, in which army he was an officer, and immediately executed
without a trial, by the blood-thirsty and infamous Duke of Cumberland.
Her mother died of grief a few months afterwards, leaving her an infant,
and the sole surviving member of a proscribed and ruined family. She was
taken, from mere compassion, by a distant relation of her father, and
carefully brought up in the Protestant faith, her parents having been
Catholics.

When about twenty years old, she accompanied her relation to London, and
had resided there some years, when she was introduced to and captivated
Signor Anastasio, and after a long courtship, and considerable
reluctance on the part of the lady, because the lover was at least
nominally a Catholic, she became his wife. They lived long and happily
together, for whether Anastasio's religious opinions had undergone any
change or not, by associating so many years with Protestants, he never
interfered with his wife's religious creed or devotions, and permitted
her to educate, in the Protestant faith, their only child Isabella.

I would advise all husbands to do likewise, in some measure; that is, if
the wife thinks proper to perform her devotions in a Pagan temple, a
Mahometan mosque, a Jewish synagogue, or a Christian church, why, let
her, and welcome, unless the husband is particularly anxious to get into
hot water, and commit suicide upon his domestic happiness; for nothing
so effectually disturbs the tranquillity of a family, as open opposition
of religious creeds. Women become religious, in the every-day
acceptation of the word, from any motive rather than a conviction of the
truth or reasonableness of any particular creed. It would be difficult,
perhaps impossible, to define the motive that carries women into the
pale of any particular church. I have heard of an old lady, who was very
anxious to be permitted to carry her knitting-work to meeting, "because
it was such a _steadiment_ to the mind." Perhaps joining the church has
the same effect upon women in general. I have seen so much discomfort in
families from conflicting religious opinions, that I cannot help hoping
that the destinies will so contrive it, that my wife, if they ever mean
to send me one at all, shall be a member of the Episcopal church. There
is about that church, what attaches to no other sect, a sort of
dignified reserve, that never breaks out in four-day meetings, revivals,
or any other similar ebullition of fanaticism and absurdity.

When Isabella was in her fourteenth year, her father returned to his
native country, taking his family with him, having given up his
mercantile business, and retiring from it very wealthy. The priests, as
might have been expected, were soon around him, like sharks around a
slave-ship, all eager to discover, in his conversation and manners, the
contamination of heresy, with which they took it for granted he was
infected, from having dwelt so long among those obstinate and perverse
heretics, the English; but Anastasio was too well acquainted with human
nature, and with the ways of the world, to be thrown off his guard. He
gave most munificently to the church; and, in spite of all their
attempts to place Isabella in a convent, as a boarder, succeeded in
retaining her under the immediate care of her excellent mother.

In making this arrangement, he was much assisted by a priest, whom he
had formerly been acquainted with, and whom he now took into his family,
as father confessor. In short, by the judicious management of pretty
large sums of money, that he was able to spare, in less than a year
after his return to Spain, Anastasio de Luna obtained the character of a
good Catholic, who had kept fast the integrity of his faith, during a
long residence among heretics. As for Madame de Luna, after having
delivered her over in trust to the devil, the clergy gave themselves
little or no concern about her; though her liberal charity, and the
mildness and sweetness of her disposition, made her friends of all who
knew her. Many a saint, of the present day, holds his character for
sanctity by as slight a tenure, as Anastasio did his as an orthodox
Catholic; and many a modest, unpretending female, has been, like Madame
de Luna, regarded as an infidel, and a vessel of wrath, for not sounding
a trumpet before her, in the exercise of unassuming virtues.

In about three years after his return to his native country, Anastasio
died, bequeathing a large sum to the church, not from any violent
partiality to the Catholic faith, but in order to secure peace to his
wife and daughter. His widow intended to return to England; but her
health was failing rapidly, and in a little more than a year after her
husband's death, she followed him to the grave, with her last breath
enjoining upon her daughter never to part with the faith in which she
had been educated, and never to marry a Catholic, unless she was sure of
the purity and goodness of his morals. This might seem illiberal in her;
but there is no accounting for the prejudices of people, especially upon
religious subjects.

After her mother's death, Isabella had no alternative left, but to take
refuge in the family of her uncle, Don Gaspar, who had already shown
great fondness for her, and who received her with great cordiality and
affection. In this family she was permitted to do much as she pleased;
her gentle and amiable disposition soon won the warmest affections of
her aunt and cousins, and her time passed agreeably, except that she was
sometimes teased by the reverend clergy to enter a convent, and to
"dedicate herself to God;" but as the young lady thought she could serve
God to better purpose out of a convent than in one, she civilly declined
their polite invitations to shut herself in a dungeon.

The same priest who befriended her father, extended his kindness to the
daughter. He was a very influential clergyman, secretly of very liberal
and enlightened views, on the subject of religion; but, not perceiving
any pressing necessity for giving his body to be burnt, he had thought
best to keep his religious notions to himself. He might very easily have
"gained a martyr's glorious name," if he had only been one of those

    "Stubborn saints, whom all men grant
    To be the true church militant;"

but he was not; and, besides, martyrdom is not near so fashionable as it
was during the time of the Roman emperors, when one saint insisted upon
being crucified heels uppermost; and another, who was very comfortably
broiling on a gridiron, sung out to be turned, when he thought he was
cooked enough on one side. _Our_ clergy are a grave, serious, set of
men, who scorn such mad pranks; they have no idea of suffering
martyrdom, or any thing else, if they can help it. I believe there have
been no martyrs since the commencement of the nineteenth century, except
Mr. Wolff, who was bastinadoed by the Pacha of Egypt, for interfering
with what did not concern him, and some ten or a dozen missionaries,
that would not do something the Cochin-Chinese bid them, and were, in
consequence, made shorter by the head.

The good priest interposed his good offices, and influence, in
Isabella's behalf, and gave her instructions in such branches of
education as he thought were suited to her sex. But, in about a year
after her mother's death, Don Gaspar received his appointment, as
military commander of St. Blas, which, as I have already observed, was
then a royal depot and arsenal; and, though but seldom visited by
Spanish men-of-war, because there were but very few, besides
guarda-costas, in the Pacific, was a place of considerable importance.
Isabella cheerfully accompanied him to America; for, though neither
giddy, nor thoughtless, all places were alike to her, provided she could
be always surrounded with her uncle's family, with whom she enjoyed
quiet happiness.

In the priests of Mexico, she saw nothing but ignorance, sensuality,
bigotry, and indolence, nothing calculated to shake her faith as a
Protestant, or cause her to forget her mother's first injunction; while
the foppishness, frivolity, insolence, ignorance, and pride, of the men,
by whom she was surrounded, most effectually protected her from the
remotest thought of disobeying the second. The men, on the other hand,
regarded her with the coolest indifference; accustomed to admire the
black eyes, and hair, and colorless complexions of the Spanish and
native, or Creole, women, varying from a sort of dirty cream color, to a
deep and beautiful copper, Isabella's rather lightish brown hair, blue
eyes, fair complexion, and cheeks rosy with health and cheerfulness, had
no charms for them; and, while her cousins had lovers, or danglers, by
the dozen, Isabella found herself, to her infinite satisfaction,
completely deserted and neglected, by all the starched and pompous fools
that visited her uncle, during a stay of some months in the city of
Mexico.

She had, on the arrival of the family at St. Blas, contrived to employ
her time in cultivating such female accomplishments as her mother had
instructed her in, and was, at the time we introduce her to the reader's
notice, in her twentieth year. In person, she was about the medium
height of women, or, perhaps, a little below it; and would be called, in
New England, rather a small woman. Her form was exceedingly
well-proportioned and beautiful, although, what may seem incredible, it
had never been cramped, crushed, and distorted, by tight lacing, of
which her mother had a very reasonable horror; and, in consequence, her
movements were free, graceful, and unconfined.

I know very well that the idea of a lady's form being beautiful, unless
moulded by corsets into the form of a ship's half-minute glass, will be
scouted as absurd and impossible; but to the ridicule that such a
proposition must necessarily excite, I can oppose my own observation,
leaving antiquity, with its faultless statues and sculptures, to shift
for itself. The Hindoo women, of whom I have seen hundreds at once
bathing in the Hoogly, of all ages, from childhood to decrepitude, have
extremely fine forms, when young, that is from twelve to twenty-two or
three, at which period they have all the marks of old age. As they bathe
with only a single thin cotton garment, which, when wet, sticks close to
their bodies, and developes their forms most completely, any body that
visits Calcutta can satisfy himself of the correctness of this fact, and
yet they tolerate no sort of confinement whatever about the person.

Isabella's face was of an oval form, with an exquisitely delicate and
fair complexion; when her features were at rest, the expression was
quiet and serious, rather bordering upon the pensive, a cast of
countenance that she inherited from her mother; but her smile was
exceedingly attractive, with an air of frankness and innocence
attending it, that made it perfectly fascinating. Her eyes were of a
deep blue, that, in conversation or when any emotion agitated the
tranquillity of their owner, were extremely lively, animated, and
sparkling. Her eyebrows were very delicately traced, slightly curved but
not arched, as poets and others rave about--I never saw a pair that
were, on forehead male or female, except among the Chinese, and _they_,
in consequence, looked like--no matter who--nor can I imagine how arched
brows can be beautiful.

It was not the fashion, forty years since, for girls to cut off their
hair and sell it to a barber for fifty cents, and then give ten dollars
for a set of artificial curls, nor was it fashionable in Mexico to wear
false hair; if it had been, nature had been so bountiful to Isabella in
that beautiful ornament and pride (it ought to be) of a woman, that she
could save the expense by the arrangement of her own luxuriant tresses.

Her temper was mild, and by no means easily ruffled; her disposition was
gentle, humane, amiable, and cheerful, though seldom or never breaking
out into extravagant gaiety. Like all young ladies of her age, who have
much unemployed time on their hands, and I believe the same remark will
apply to young men similarly situated, she had experienced a void, a
want of something in the heart, that she felt acutely enough, but could
neither describe nor account for; that peculiar feeling that certainly
is not love, but a symptom of the wish to love and be beloved; it is
that state of the heart when the affections go forth, like Noah's dove,
and finding no object on which to repose, return weary and dejected to
their lonely prison.

It is an old adage, that "when the devil finds a man idle, he sets him
to work;" when love finds a heart unoccupied, he soon finds it a tenant,
for it always has been, is now, and always will be true, that

    "Love is a fire that burns and sparkles,
    In men as nat'rally as in charcoals."

Isabella, almost without knowing it, and without the faintest suspicion
of the real state of the case, gradually neglected and ceased to take
pleasure in her usual occupations; her books, her music, her needle, and
her flowers, all seemed to be equally tiresome and unpleasant. While in
this unhappy state of ennui and loneliness of feeling, peculiar to the
youthful days, or some portion of them, of both sexes, when the mind,
like Hudibras' sword,

    "Eats into itself, for lack
    Of somebody to hew and hack,"

she was thrown into unspeakable grief and consternation, by her uncle
one day proposing to her to receive and encourage the addresses of Don
Gregorio, as her future husband.

To her passionate tears and entreaties to be spared such a dreadful
calamity, that she declared was infinitely worse than death, the old Don
replied, that it was natural for a girl to be frightened at the idea of
leaving a comfortable home, to become the mistress of a family; that he
only wished to provide for her, and see her well settled in life, that
the proposed husband was handsome, rich, and connected by blood with the
viceroy; and also urged many other reasons "too numerous to mention." To
all which, the weeping and agonized girl replied, as soon as her uncle
was out of breath, and she had an opportunity of speaking, "But, my dear
uncle, you know his character, and why, oh! why, will you sacrifice me,
whom you have always treated with so much affection and kindness, to one
whom every one knows to be a fool and a coward?"

The Don was somewhat startled by this appeal. He was certainly aware
that Isabella was perfectly right in so calling her proposed lover, who
he knew was both a silly coxcomb and a despicable coward, but it was
altogether past his comprehension how his modest, retiring, gentle
niece, had found out two such very important points in the character of
a man, whom he had noticed she seemed to avoid more than any one who
visited his house. But after a few days, seeing that her dejection was
extreme, that her appetite and animation had failed, and she was sinking
under the weight of her grief, and being likewise severely rated by the
wife of his bosom, in a curtain lecture, he relented, and calling
Isabella to him one morning, with many expressions of fondness, bade her
cheer up, for though he wished to see her well married, he would by no
means force her inclinations, and she should please herself in the
article of matrimony.

This intelligence soothed and consoled her, and the rosy hue of health
once more revisited her sweet countenance; her eyes once more sparkled
with much of her wonted animation and cheerfulness, but still there was
a shade upon her mind amounting almost to sadness; her uncle had
unmasked his battery, and she felt that she was doomed to much
persecution, on what, under existing circumstances, was to her a most
painful subject. But the destinies, that manage matrimonial affairs
infinitely better than free agents, were busy on her behalf.




CHAPTER IV.

     "Why," said the knight, "did you not tell me, that this water was
     from the well of your blessed patron, St. Dunstan?"

     "Ay, truly," said the hermit, "and many a hundred pagans did he
     baptize there; but I never heard that he drank any of it. Every
     thing should be put to its proper use in this world. St. Dunstan
     knew, as well as any one, the prerogatives of a jovial friar."

                                        IVANHOE.


It was nearly six months after the warlike and portentous visit of the
puissant governor to the Porte, when he was roused one morning by
intelligence, that an American whale-ship had arrived in the night, and
was then at anchor just within Pedro Blanco. He immediately commenced,
in his usual style of vaporing and flourish, as though this Yankee ship,
arriving without his knowledge and consent, had compromised the welfare
of the Spanish monarchy. Before his zeal had half done effervescing, a
sergeant brought word that the captain and first officer were at his
usual place of transacting business, or _bureau d'office_, and wished to
see him. This piece of information had by no means a sedative effect.
Here was a heretic, not only stealing into the bay, like a thief in the
night, but carrying his impudence still farther, by insisting upon an
interview, and that too out of business hours, with the representative
of His Most Catholic Majesty, by the grace of God, King of Two Spains
and the Indies.

However, he very graciously sent word, that he would attend to them in a
few minutes; and having drank his chocolate, he proceeded to his office,
where he found waiting for him a grave elderly man, and a handsome young
one. The American captain could speak no Spanish, but the young man
could fluently, and he immediately proceeded to inform his excellency,
that the parties who had ventured to intrude upon his valuable time,
were Captain Hazard, commander of the American whaling ship Orion, and
himself, Charles Morton, first officer of that ship; that the ship was
filled with oil, and bound home; that they were out of wood, short of
water, and desirous of obtaining fruit, vegetables, fresh and salt
provisions, and live stock, previous to their commencing their long and
tedious passage towards home; and, finally, that trusting to the
well-known kindness and humanity of his Excellency General de Luna, they
had presumed to anchor in the outer harbor, till they had obtained his
permission to move further in shore, and to purchase their supplies.

The old hero of Gibraltar was delighted: he had heard himself called
general, and "vuestra excellencia" half a dozen times at least; and that
too by a gentleman, whose modest deportment and language convinced him
of his seriousness. He instantly acceded to their request, and would, at
that moment perhaps, have given them his house, if he thought they
could store it away on deck, or get it down the main hatchway. Still it
seemed as if there was something lacking on their part; and he was soon
set at ease. The two Americans communicated for a moment, when the young
man, in polite and set phrase, gave the wished-for, and expected,
invitation to the governor and his family to visit and dine on board the
Orion, the next day at twelve o'clock; for sailors, and some others,
stick to the primitive and convenient habit of dining in the middle of
the day--fashionable people, I believe, don't dine till to-morrow
morning.

The parties then separated, mutually pleased with each other; the
Americans at having their request so easily and cheerfully granted, and
the old Castilian in high glee with the prospect before him, of a good
dinner, plenty of punch, and plenty of wine. Being gifted with olfactory
powers equal to Job's war-horse, he smelled, not a battle, but a dinner,
afar off, or within thirty divisions of "old Time, the clock-setter's"
dial.

The Orion was indeed the American whaleman in sight when the governor
visited the waterside, and was then coming in, but just as the
sea-breeze commenced, the look-out at the masthead reported a large
school of sperm whales in the offing. Although the want of vegetables
and fresh provisions did grieve him sore, yet want of oil did grieve him
more; and accordingly, Captain Hazard, whose ship was but little more
than half full, commenced beating out towards his huge game, which led
him away from the land and to the northward; where, in a little more
than five months, he had made up his quantum of oil; and preferring St.
Blas to Monterey, or St. Josef, he made the best of his way thither.

The governor, having notified his womankind of the whale-catching
captain's invitation, proceeded to hold grave and high communication
with Father Josef, his ghostly counsellor, and the keeper of his
conscience.

Father Josef was a priest, turned of fifty; and, like most of the
Spanish American clergy, who are turned of fifty, and are of any thing
like fair standing for sanctity, was somewhat rotund about the abdominal
regions, and of an apoplectic appearance; that is, his head was firmly
plunged down, and imbedded between his shoulders, without being plagued
with the intervening isthmus of neck, which is so expensive to modern
fashionable ladies and gentlemen, being considered by one sex as a part
of the body expressly created to hang neck-laces, gold chains, and lace
pelerines upon; and by the other, as intended merely as a place of
lodgment for the stock and shirt-collar. This priest's nose and cheeks
bore a large and bountiful crop of, what are sometimes called, "the
fruits of good living;" indeed, his parochial duties were not of a kind
calculated to mortify the flesh; and as his church was well endowed, and
he received many presents from the wealthy members of his flock, it was
not a matter of wonder, that he enjoyed such creature-comforts as lay in
his way; and the Catholic clergy are generally possessed of a sufficient
degree of modest asurance in taking possession of them. In disposition
he was mild, and good-natured, (fat people generally are;) was much
attached to the governor's family, and possessed great influence over
him. He was, over and above all, a man of considerable learning and
intelligence: spoke English quite passably; and, as a proof of good
taste, we add, that he was the only masculine biped, who visited Don
Gaspar's house, who really understood, and rightly appreciated,
Isabella's beauty of person, and intellectual character. As it was well
known that the governor placed great confidence in him, all who had a
suit to the civil or rather military potentate, in the first place made
interest with the ecclesiastical one; and this was soon perceived and
imitated by the commanders of foreign vessels, from whom he received
many presents. This was the clergyman whom the governor now summoned to
a council.

"Father," said he, when the priest made his appearance and bestowed his
benediction, "you are doubtless aware of the arrival of an American ship
in this harbor, and that I and my family have been invited on board
to-morrow."

Father Josef bowed in the affirmative.

"I am not sure that I am doing right," resumed the Don, "in accepting
such invitations, as it throws me into the society of heretics so
often; and you know we cannot touch pitch without defilement."

"We cannot indeed handle pitch without being defiled, but in the line of
duty."

"But duty does not call me there."

"Nay, but hear me, my son; duty requires that you should see that his
majesty's laws against unlawful trading are not violated."

"That is very true."

"And there can be no better opportunity of ascertaining the real
character of these foreigners than by a personal visit."

"A most just observation, father."

"Therefore, make yourself easy on the score of its sinfulness, for there
is none in it."

"I don't see how there can be," said his excellency, who was thinking of
the future punch and dinner.

"If I can assist you farther--"

"Oh, true! you will accompany us to-morrow?"

"Most cheerfully."

"And now, father, I wish to consult you upon another subject. You know
that it is my wish to marry my niece to Don Gregorio Nunez."

"You have said something of this before."

"And she is most obstinately opposed to such a union."

"I can easily conceive it," said the priest drily.

"He is rich and well connected."

"Riches and rank do not charm all women."

"It is my wish to see her well married."

"The woman that marries Don Gregorio is not necessarily well married;
besides, I believe you know his character."

"I think I do."

"That he is a fool."

"He is certainly rather weak in intellect."

"And a coward."

"I cannot deny it."

"And a coxcomb."

"He is certainly very vain of his high birth and of his rank in the
army: young men are apt to be in such cases."

"You would not consent to his marrying one of your daughters?"

"No; I have other views for them."

"And yet you profess to love your niece as affectionately as your
daughters."

"You know I do, father."

"And loving her as you profess, you are striving to render that niece
miserable for life by uniting her with one whom you admit to be a fool,
a coward, and a vain fop."

The old Don, whose intellectuals were none of the brightest, had got
himself, without perceiving it, completely into a _premunire_, by the
Socratic mode of reasoning adopted by his more skilful antagonist, who
at parting once more addressed him:--

"Take my advice, Signor de Luna, and leave your niece to herself on this
subject: a young female heart cannot be made, like one of your
soldiers, to march and countermarch at the word of command; it is,
besides, of very frail materials, and, when once injured or broken, can
never be repaired. The happiness of one so dear to you as your niece,
may be destroyed forever, by forcing her into a match she detests; but
it will then be too late to repair your fault, and it will always be to
you a subject of the bitterest regret and unavailing remorse."

With these words he departed. But the governor, although convinced by
the priest's arguments, and set into profound meditation by his last
words, was one of those people, of whom we see so many at every step we
take through life, who ask advice when they need it, are convinced of
its soundness when given, and yet, though their natural good sense
assents to dispassionate reasoning, return to their old, foolish,
absurd, and ruinous opinions and intentions.

Don Gaspar, therefore, although convinced that he was a fool, and an
unfeeling relation in attempting to force his niece into a marriage with
such a worthless puppy as he readily admitted the proposed lover was in
every respect, continued to adhere to his original intention, which he
thought best, however, to defer for a time.




CHAPTER V.

    There is as weighty reason
    For secresy in love, as treason.
    Love is a burglarer, a felon,
    That at the window-eye doth steal in
    To rob the heart, and with his prey
    Steals out again a closer way.

                                       HUDIBRAS.


The morning of the day appointed for the visit to the ship Orion rose as
pure, and clear, and beautiful, as though no party of pleasure was
intended, but not more pure, and clear, and beautiful, than the weather
always is during the dry season of tropical climates, which, with the
cool and refreshing sea-breeze, is one of the delights of those climates
that I forgot to particularise in its proper place. With us of the
temperate section of this round world the case is altogether
different--the day appointed a week beforehand for a party of pleasure
being almost invariably rainy, blowy, haily, snowy, drizzly, foggy,
cold, uncomfortable, villainous weather; or else so hot that the mere
act of breathing is too much for feeble human nature--and this, too,
whether the party is made for sailing, riding, rambling about in the
woods, or even for dancing, or tea-drinking, or whist-playing in a warm,
comfortable room. This is, perhaps, one reason why geographers call our
part of the globe the temperate zone; because all our proposed and
anticipated pleasures, that depend in the slightest possible degree upon
the weather, are sure to be tempered and qualified by some unexpected
botheration on the part of the weather.

The party from the shore accordingly arrived alongside the Orion about
eleven o'clock in the forenoon, without accident by sea or land. The
governor was in high spirits and full regimentals; Madame Governor was
as stately, dignified, and bejewelled, as became a lady of her station
and rank; the two daughters sparkled with gems and fluttered with silks,
thinking of the impression they were to make upon the officers of the
strange ship; the priest, in sacerdotal dignity, and with his weight
giving the boat three streaks heel to starboard, sat hoping some
contingency might take place that would elicit a present from the Yankee
commander; the young officers, but three in number, including, of
course, the military aspirant to the fair Isabella's hand and fortune,
thought of but little or nothing except their pretty persons and dashing
regimentals.

Isabella, who expected no pleasure from this party of pleasure, but the
reverse, as it would compel her to be for some hours in the company of a
man she had so much reason to detest, sat in the stern sheets, with the
fat clergyman directly in front, and forming an impenetrable rampart
against the impertinent gallantries of the coxcomb Gregorio. She wore
no jewels or ornaments, and from her pensive and serious expression of
countenance, might have passed for an Athenian tribute-maiden whom the
annual ship was about to carry to the den of the Minotaur.

An arm-chair of capacious and old-fashioned dimensions, its ponderous
wood-work carefully hidden by the American ensign, the _fly_ of which
was to serve as an envelope for the feet and ancles of the ladies, was
strongly slung and lowered into the stern sheets of the governor's state
barge, a _craft_ containing nearly as much timber as a fishing schooner,
and about as burdensome. Mr. Morton, the first officer of the ship, and
a remarkably handsome man, now came over the side into the barge, to
arrange the ladies for their aeronautic excursion, safer than Durant's,
for their car was slung with strong hemp not dependent upon a bag of
inflammable gas. As a matter of course, he tendered his services to the
old lady first, who, though she had been _whipped_ in and out of as many
ships as any English dragoon-horse during the war of the Peninsula,
thought proper to curvet and prance, and show as much skittishness as a
mule embarking at Hartford, or Weathersfield, or Middletown, for a tour
of duty at Surinam or Demerara. She was, however, hoisted in without
accident, and received on deck by Captain Hazard and Mr. Coffin, the
second officer, with much politeness. The two young ladies were the next
in order, and accomplished their flight successfully. Isabella lastly
took her seat in the chair without trepidation or affectation of alarm.
Morton's eyes had already done hommage to her superior beauty; but he
was too busy with the other ladies to notice her any farther than as the
most lovely of the female visitors. He now remarked the pensive
expression of her lovely countenance, and it excited in his heart an
undefinable and uncontrollable interest. We have already said that
Isabella inherited her mother's beauty, which had not one of the usual
characteristics of a Spanish female countenance; and it was this
peculiarity that struck the young seaman forcibly, and probably
increased the interest he felt towards her, and the curiosity to know
something more of her history, as he had only understood vaguely that
she was Don Gaspar's niece.

There is a peculiar phrase, or rather word, that I have left
unexplained, and concerning which I will now proceed to enlighten the
terrestrial and unenlightened reader. I spoke of whipping the ladies
into the ship. The whip, then, consists of a tail-block on the main
yard-arm, with a sufficient rope rove through it, and a similar purchase
on the collar of the main-stay. One end of each of these ropes is made
fast to a stout arm-chair, covered generally with the ship's ensign,
with the loose part of which the lady wraps her feet. The other ends are
in the hands of careful, steady seamen. The lady, being arranged and
fixed in the chair, with a "breast-rope" from arm to arm, (of the
chair, not of the lady,) is hoisted up by the yard-whip till she has
approached the zenith sufficiently to go clear of the waist
hammock-nettings, when the stay-whip is hauled upon, carrying her in a
horizontal direction over the gangway, when both whips being lowered,
she is disentangled of her "wrappers and twine," and received in the
arms of a lover, a husband, or a brother, as the case may be. Ladies and
gentlemen, whose curiosity on the subject of whips is still unsatisfied,
will find their theory demonstrated and illustrated by a diagram in
"Enfield's Natural Philosophy."

I have known the somewhat startling nautical command, "Get the whip
ready for the ladies," blanch many a fair cheek with sudden and most
causeless alarm. It cannot be denied that we "gentlemen of the ocean"
have singular names for things; but every thing at sea must have a name,
or there would be no getting along.

I have only farther to remark on this subject, that horses are
infinitely more tractable in taking on board a ship, than ladies; for
the moment the horse perceives his feet are clear of the ground, he
becomes perfectly quiet and passive; whereas, the lady is always quiet
while a handsome young officer is arranging the flags, &c. about her
feet; but as soon as she is fairly in the air, she begins to scream, and
kick, and bounce about, to the imminent risk of her bones; and just at
the time when common sense and instinct teach the quadruped to keep
perfectly still, women, who have but little common sense in such cases,
and no instinct at all, are the most intractable and restless.

Morton followed the last lady, namely, Isabella, and, as he stepped over
the gangway, was accosted by his brother officer.

"What a thundering pretty girl that last one is!"

"She is the governor's niece," said Morton.

"You may tell that to the marines," said Coffin; "I'll be shot if
there's as much Spanish blood in her veins as would grease the point of
a sail-needle."

"They say so ashore," said Morton.

"I don't care what they say; I'll believe my eyes before the best
Spaniard among them."

"Who knows," said Morton, "but that infernal soldier, that's buzzing
about her, may one day be the husband of that sweet girl?"

"There's no knowing," said Coffin, yawning; "but you and I, Charlie,
can't marry all the pretty girls that are like to have fools for
husbands."

As this conversation went on, the mates had walked aft, and were close
behind Isabella, who stood by the companion-way, while the governor, and
his lady, who was not far behind him in corporeal dimensions, were
accomplishing their descent into the lower regions.

"That rascally soldier," said Morton, "wants nothing but a tail to make
him a full-rigged monkey, and that lovely girl is about to be sacrificed
to him."

"Poor girl!" said Coffin; "it's bad enough to marry a sojer, any how;
but to marry such a critter as that is going it a little too fine."

Poor Isabella, who had heard and properly understood every syllable of
their conversation, was exceedingly affected. She had heard a person,
whose appearance and manners approached her _beau ideal_ of a gentleman,
expressing, in warm and energetic language, the liveliest compassion for
her, and guessing (for she could not imagine how he could know with
certainty) her exact situation, and manifesting an apparently sincere
and hearty interest towards her. Although her uncle had forborne to
trouble her upon that hateful subject, after he had first proposed it,
she knew his disposition too well to regard the reprieve as an
abandonment of his original design.

As she turned away to conceal her emotion from her cousins, her
streaming eyes encountered those of Morton. The young seaman was shocked
and alarmed at her tears, though he had not the most distant suspicion
that she had understood a word that had been said. Her beauty had first
attracted his notice--it was so un-Spanish, and so nearly resembling
that of New England ladies; the pensive expression of her countenance
had excited a lively interest and curiosity towards her; but her tears,
the evidence of that "secret grief" that the heart, and only the heart,
knoweth, had called up all the sympathies of his heart.

I believe there are few men, who deserve the name, that are proof
against a woman's tears, and there are few such men, who, when they
perceive a woman, especially a young and beautiful one, oppressed with
grief, anxiety, or distress, do not feel an irresistible impulse to
assist and relieve her.

It may be objected that I have made my hero fall in love at first sight.
To this I answer that I cannot spare time to lead him step by step
through all the crooks and turns of the bewitching passion; secondly,
love is _not_ like the consumption; people do not go gradually into it
by a beaten road, every foot of which is marked and designated by its
appropriate and peculiar symptoms. "Nemo est repente vitiosus," says
Juvenal--nobody becomes completely depraved all at once; very true, but
folks certainly do, to my certain knowledge, fall in love all at once,
and that is doubtless the reason why they are said to _fall_ in love.
Love is like the Asiatic cholera; a man is suddenly laid flat on his
back, with all the marked and violent symptoms, when he thought all the
while he was in perfect health. "Love," says Corporal Trim, "is exactly
like war in this, that a soldier, though he has escaped three weeks
complete o' Saturday night, may nevertheless be shot through the heart
on Sunday morning." In the third place, a man, who for two or three
years has seen nothing in the female form more attractive than the
copper-colored beauties of Asia, the South Sea Islands, and the whole
western coast of America, or the ebony _fair_ ones of Africa, is most
astonishingly susceptible when once more restored to the society of
ladies of his own complexion, and of more refinement than those we have
mentioned. I have had the ineffable pleasure of testing the truth of
this theory more than a dozen times in my own person. If any gentleman
doubts the fact, I can only advise him to banish himself from female
society, in a man-of-war or whaleman, for three or four years. If he
does not fall in love fifty times a month, when he returns, he is either
more or less than human, and, in either case, I should wish to remain a
stranger to him.

The whole party were now "under hatches," and examining the wonders of a
whaleman's cabin. Morton had attached himself to Isabella, and, as he
spoke the Spanish language fluently, and, what was more to the purpose,
was impelled by an irresistible feeling to entertain and amuse her, soon
drew her into conversation, and was astonished and delighted with her
good sense. He had visited different parts of South America before, and
had seen enough of the women to perceive that they were excessively
ignorant, superstitious, and vulgar. He was therefore not a little
surprised to perceive in Isabella's conversation marks of a cultivated
and polished understanding.

The rest of the party had gone into the steerage to examine some of
those curious specimens of whalebone work, in the fabrication of which
whalemen employ so much patience and time, during their long and often
unsuccessful voyages. As Isabella and Morton stood together by the cabin
table, the lady opened a bible that was lying there, and seemed for a
moment or two engaged in reading it.

"Do you understand that?" said the seaman, still speaking Spanish.

"Yes," she replied, in English, "my mother was a Scotchwoman, and a
Protestant."

"Good heavens! then I am afraid--I am sure--that--in short, I believe
that something was said before you came below, that must have been
unpleasant--that, indeed, could not but hurt your feelings."

Isabella was extremely agitated, and turned away her head.

"What would I not give," continued he, in a low voice, "what would I not
sacrifice, to be able--to be permitted, to assist you in any way."

He stopped, scarcely knowing what he said, or hardly knowing whether he
had spoken at all. The poor girl raised her swimming eyes in
supplication.

"For heaven's sake! drop this subject; if my uncle knew that you had
spoken thus to me, he would carry me back immediately."

"But tell me, dearest lady, tell me, is there no way in which I can be
of service to you?"

"No, no, no, leave me; if you have any regard for me, leave me. I thank
you for the interest you have shown for me; but it will avail nothing."

The tone of extreme dejection, and melancholy, in which she pronounced
these last words, almost drove Morton beside himself. He was completely
bewildered with conflicting emotions--a young and beautiful woman,
lovely in person and in mind, and, what made her irresistible to an
unsophisticated, warm, generous, and feeling heart, in
affliction--affliction that seemed more remediless, because not
understood by one, nor communicated by the other.

From this situation of mutual embarrassment, they were relieved by the
entrance of one of the young ladies, who came to call her cousin into
the steerage, to see the wonders already alluded to. Luckily, Carlota,
although a good-natured girl, and fond of her cousin Isabella, was not
remarkably keen-sighted, or she must have noticed the agitation and
embarrassment of both parties.

In the meantime, Mr. Coffin, who had a large share of a particular kind
of shrewdness, had noticed that his friend seemed inclined to enjoy the
society of Isabella uninterrupted; and, to assist that manoeuvre as
much as possible, engaged the young officers with some tremendous tough
fish stories, in which he was ably supported by one of the
boat-steerers, a Portuguese, who spoke Spanish, as a matter of course,
and helped out his officer, when his imperfect knowledge of the
language brought him to a stand still. So he managed to hold them, as
jackasses are held,--by the ears,--till he saw his companion and the
young lady come into the steerage, when he broke off somewhat abruptly,
in the middle of a very tough yarn, leaving the gentlemen of the sword
to guess at the catastrophe.

As the party stood around a chest, upon which these whalebone toys, and
other curiosities, were displayed, Antonia dropt a bouquet from her
bosom. As Morton picked it up, and returned it to its fair owner, he
made some remark upon the beauty, and fragrance, of the flowers.

"Are you fond of flowers?" said the young lady.

"Yes, very."

"That I can answer for," said Coffin; "he is always, when on shore for
wood, water, or pleasure, in search of rare flowers, and shells. It is
well there are no such things at sea, or we should never have taken a
single whale--and then he paints those he finds so beautifully."

"What! _he_ paint flowers! a _man_ paint flowers! Santa Maria! who ever
heard of such a thing!" echoed the two young ladies.

"And why not, my children," said the fat priest, laughing; "do you
ladies think you have an exclusive title, and right, to all the elegant
accomplishments?"

"I do not doubt," said Coffin, "that Signor Morton would be proud to
show the ladies his drawings. Come, Charlie," he continued, in English,
"you shall not keep your candle under a bushel any longer--you see
you're in for it, and you may as well submit with a good grace."

So saying, he led the way to the cabin, where the drawings were paraded
upon the table. They were certainly very beautiful; for to a fondness
for the "serene and silent art," Morton added a natural taste for it,
which he had ample leisure to cultivate, during his long voyages. After
admiring them for some time, Madame de Luna gave the artist a cordial
invitation to visit their house, and garden, a mile or two beyond the
town; in the latter, she assured him, he would find some rare and
beautiful subjects for his pencil. Morton was exceedingly gratified by
this kindness, and said, in a low voice, and in English, to Isabella,
but without looking at, or apparently addressing, her, as she stood next
him, "Then I shall have the happiness of seeing you once more."




CHAPTER VI.

    Love's power's too great to be withstood
    By feeble human flesh and blood.
    'Twas he that brought upon his knees
    The hect'ring kil-cow Hercules;
    Transform'd his leaguer-lion's skin
    T' a petticoat, and made him spin;
    Seiz'd on his club, and made it dwindle
    T' a feeble distaff and a spindle.

                                        HUDIBRAS.


The dinner on board the Orion, which was not served up till one o'clock,
by the way, as Captain Hazard wished to be more than usually genteel,
was excellent, and was preceded, and followed, by copious libations of
punch; after which the wine was set on table, and the veterans, that is,
the military, the nautical, and ecclesiastical, part of the company,
proceeded to discuss it, "in manner and form." The governor, as was his
custom on such occasions, told interminable stories of the siege of
Gibraltar, during which, his hopeful nephew elect enjoyed a very
comfortable nap, and even Father Josef nodded occasionally.

The ladies had made their escape, as soon us dinner was finished; and
Morton, on the watch, like a cat to steal cream, was on the alert, as
soon as he perceived their intentions, and accompanied them on deck. To
his great satisfaction, none of the Spanish officers made any attempt to
leave the table; for, as the old Don had just got fairly under weigh
with one of his campaigning stories, they were afraid to treat him with
so much disrespect, and, of course, hazard their hopes of being invited
to attend him again upon a similar party. Accordingly, Morton had the
pleasure of enjoying the society of the ladies, without interruption,
and found many opportunities of saying a few words to Isabella. In this,
he was again much beholden to the skilful manoeuvring of his messmate,
Coffin, who was already higher in the good graces of the mother and
daughters than Morton, who, though a handsome man, had not so much of
that dashing, off-hand, sort of gallantry as the other; and which goes
an incredible way with most ladies.

Morton had seen more of the polite world, and was better educated, and
more refined in his manners, than Coffin; but, besides being, at that
time, wholly engrossed and engaged by a particular object, he had that
peculiar kind of modesty, or diffidence, that does a man so much injury
with the other sex; who, though they pretend to prize modesty so highly
among themselves, abominate it as unnatural, absurd, and affected, in
men; while the pert and obsequious fluttering of a fashionable
water-fly, which is always received with a smile, is generally more
prized, and rewarded more bountifully still. There is, however, some
consolation in the thought, that repentance always overtakes, and
punishes, the silly woman who has allowed herself to be so fatally
"pleased with a rattle;" she perceives, after marriage, that she has
given herself irrevocably to a thing "of shreds and patches."

There is a certain sort of little attentions, that ladies generally
expect from our sex, and a skill and adroitness in showing which makes
no inconsiderable part of a modern gentleman's education. I have known
many young men, who could not write two consecutive sentences, without
coming to an open rupture with orthography, grammar, or common sense, or
all three, if it was to save their well-_stocked_ necks from the halter,
or their souls, (what of that commodity they have,) from Satan's grip,
but who stood very high, and, doubtless, deservedly so, in the
estimation of the fair sex, simply from their skill and precision in
going through a certain routine of little trifling acts of politeness.

As far as ladies are concerned, politeness appears to consist chiefly in
a man's putting himself to more or less inconvenience, or exposing
himself to danger, on their account. With regard to the last, I do not
know but I could acquit myself to advantage, partly from the peculiar
recklessness that is acquired at sea; and partly because facing danger,
in the protection of the weaker sex, is both the duty of the stronger,
and the stronger generally can do it with less embarrassment, than
perform those innumerable, nameless, attentions, already alluded to. I
cannot say, however, that when walking out with ladies, I have felt
peculiarly desirous of the apparition of a mad bull, a ghost, or the
devil, to give me an opportunity to show my courage; but I think it is
certainly easier to most men to expose themselves to danger, in the
service of a lady, than to perform acceptably, and without awkwardness,
those little acts of politeness, that, in the present state of society,
ladies are somewhat rigorous in exacting. I have passed the very cream
and flower of my life at sea, that is, from nineteen to thirty-two, and
now, "in these latter days," begin to feel myself very much like a fish
out of water. How often have I "sailed into the northward" of a fair
lady's displeasure, for neglecting to assist her into, or out of, a
carriage! never dreaming, "poor ignorant sinner" that I am! that the
ascent up the steps of a coach was attended with any more perils, than
that of the stairs that lead to her bed-room; or that a girl, perhaps
twenty years my junior, glowing in the full bloom of youth, health, and
sprightliness, and with a step as light and elastic as Virgil's Camilla,
required the assistance of such an old weather-beaten beau as myself.
How often have I been pouted at by the ripest, rosiest, lips in the
world, for omitting to wait upon their owner home, on a dark, stormy,
evening, and half a mile out of my way, simply because I preferred the
company I was with, to the half-mile _heat_! I do not know that I have
ever felt very desirous of living my life over again; but I confess I
should like to go back, say, to the age of three or four and twenty,
merely to take a few lessons in the graces, and then "jump the life to
come," as far as where I am now, namely, _thirty or forty_.

By Mr. Coffin's management, Morton and Isabella were much of the time
together, and both instinctively avoided any allusion to painful
subjects. He described to her the various implements used in the
whale-fishery, gave her a short account of the voyage, and of the
different parts of America, and of the islands in the Pacific, that he
had visited; and, in short, exerted himself to please and entertain her,
and was successful.

When in the society of those we love, and from whom we are soon to
separate, perhaps forever, how much we can manage to say in a little
time! how earnestly do we strive to render delightful those moments,
perhaps the last that we are ever to pass with those friends! Dr.
Johnson says, the approach of death wonderfully concentrates one's
ideas; so does the approach of the hour of parting.

Isabella heard herself, for the first time, for many years, addressed in
the language of respectful politeness, and unassuming common sense; the
pictures of refined, polished, and enlightened, society, drawn in the
few excellent English authors her mother had left her, seemed realized
and presented to her eyes, in all the richness of life. She did not
stop to analyse, or try to explain to herself the peculiarly delightful
feelings that occupied her mind; though if she had been left alone for
five minutes, her own good sense would have told her it was love: that
pure, unalloyed, unreflecting, ardent, _first_ love, that, like the
whooping-cough and the measles, we never have but once; though some
patients have it earlier in life, and more severely, than others.

Ladies will never admit, and never have admitted, from the time the
stone-masons and hod-carriers struck work upon the tower of Babel, (for
want of a circulating medium of speech, that would be taken at par by
all hands, down to the present Anno Domini, 1834, and twenty-second of
October,) that any of their sisterhood ever fell in love "at sight," as
brokers call it, or that her eyes influenced her heart. With regard to
the female, who, in early life, takes up the "trade and mystery" of a
fashionable belle, _ex officio_ a coquet and a flirt, this is in some
measure true; for I have observed, that very beautiful women of that
description, who have had at their feet wealth, and talent, and
eloquence, and virtue, generally "close their concerns" by marrying
sots, fools, gamblers, rakes, or brutes; they seem to choose their
husbands as old maiden ladies do their lap-dogs; which are invariably
the most cross, ugly, ill-tempered, filthy, noisy, little scoundrels,
that the entire canine family can muster. But their practice is at
variance with their profession. It is physically and morally impossible
that women, whose chief strength consists in external appearance and
show, should hold in light esteem external appearance and show in our
sex; and, if they are not guided by their eyes in the choice of their
lovers, I should like to know what the d--l they are guided by; for in a
company of feather-pated girls, the chief object of ridicule is the
personal defects of their male acquaintance.

Time, that stands still with married men, and sometimes with old
bachelors, flies with lovers; and the sun's "lower limb" was dipping in
the haze, that skirted the western horizon, when the steward came on
deck, and informed the ladies and gentlemen that coffee was ready, and,
accordingly, they descended into the cabin. After this refreshment,
preparations were made for going ashore. Morton and Coffin ran on deck,
to get the whips ready; and the former, calling his own boat's crew aft,
had his boat lowered down from the quarter-davits, and brought to the
gangway, while the governor's bargemen were lighting fresh segars. With
a few words of explanation to the second officer, Morton sprang into his
boat, and, in a few minutes, Isabella and her two cousins were safely
stowed in the stern-sheets. The bowman obeyed the command, "shove off;"
the swift boat, impelled by five strong-limbed seamen, flew like a
swallow across the bay, and reached the landing-place at least ten
minutes before the cumbrous barge of his excellency bounced her broad
nose against the side of the quay, and recoiled, like a battering-ram.

Morton improved the time he was on the shore with the ladies, by paying
more attention to the governor's daughters than he had done heretofore,
and easily succeeded in entertaining them. They repeated their mother's
invitation to the young seaman to visit their house, declaring they had
never seen any foreign gentleman that spoke such pure Spanish; that the
Americans were much more polite, and respectful, and hospitable, and
obliging, than the English; and concluded, by wondering why, if the
United States were so near Mexico, it should take six months to go from
St. Blas there. To all which Morton made the appropriate replies; and,
when the rest of the party were assembled, assisted the ladies to their
horses, renewing to Isabella, as he adjusted her in the saddle, his
promise to call at her uncle's house the next day. As this promise did
not cause the young lady to "jump out her skin" or saddle, it is highly
probable that she did not perceive any great harm in it; nor did it
occur to her then, or when consulting her pillow at night, that she
violated female propriety, by answering, simply, and somewhat
emphatically, "I hope you will."

On their ride homeward, the party were loud in their praises of the
entertainment of the day, their eulogies being directed to different
parts of the entertainment according to the different tastes of the
individuals performing the concert; for instance, the young ladies made
honorable mention of the politeness and attention of the "dos pelotos
hermosos," the two handsome mates; the old lady chanted the praises of
the china ware, and table linen, and the knives and forks--all of them
luxuries at that time in South America; the governor eulogized the
punch, and Father Josef the dinner; the young officers were in raptures
with the wine, in which they were joined by the civil and ecclesiastical
dignitaries in grand chorus. Perhaps there never was a party of visitors
that left their entertainer's house, whether riding at anchor in port,
or standing on hammered granite "underpinning" on shore, better pleased
with what they had had, or in better humor or spirits.




CHAPTER VII.

    Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.
    I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
    That almost freezes up the heat of life.

                                        ROMEO AND JULIET.


Isabella arose at her usual hour the next morning, and after breakfast
walked into the garden, from a sort of unacknowledged hope and wish that
she might soon be joined by the young American, who had occupied her
thoughts, both sleeping and waking, since she had parted with him on the
beach the evening previous. At the sound of every horse's feet she
started, and her heart beat quicker. But he came not that day, and as
evening approached, her disappointment became almost insupportable; she
tried to frame excuses for him; he had never been to the house; perhaps
he had, by a very natural mistake, gone to her uncle's house in town,
instead of that where she now was, and which was rather more than a mile
from St. Blas, and whither the family came regularly to lodge, though
they spent most of the time at their town residence; perhaps he was
detained on board by his duties; or he might be sick.

"And why," said the weeping girl to herself, "why should I wish to see
him again? Alas! I have already seen him too often, for my future peace
of mind. He is going home to his parents, his relatives, his friends,
his home, and perhaps to his wife;" and this last thought crossed her
mind with a feeling of peculiar anguish; "but no, when he spoke of his
friends and parents, he said nothing of his wife; but he is going, and
in a few short months he will forget that he has ever seen me, or that
such an unhappy being has ever existed."

With these painful and self-tormenting reflections she passed the
evening, and much of the night; but youthful hope, that cheers the heart
with flattering and deceitful promises, never sufficiently well defined
to resemble certainty, but always brilliant; hope, whose elasticity
raises the sinking heart, soothed and composed her spirits, and she sank
into sound and refreshing slumbers, to wake to a brighter and more
flattering day; but at the same time, to sink deeper and more
irrevocably into that bewitching, bewildering passion, whose existence
she could not now avoid acknowledging.

As she was sitting in the garden the next day, she was suddenly startled
by the approach of her two cousins in full chat, and close behind them,
Morton. Isabella seemed rooted to her seat, the light swam before her
eyes, her tongue was paralyzed, and her limbs were unable to raise or
support her. The young seaman approached, and in broken, incoherent, and
unintelligible accents, attempted to express the delight he felt at
once more seeing her. Perhaps, if the two cousins had been out of the
way; he would have acquitted himself better, perhaps not so well. "Iron
sharpeneth iron," saith Solomon; "so doth a man the countenance of his
friend." It may be so in some cases, but I doubt whether any man can
make love so glibly, so off hand, before half a dozen spectators,
especially females, as he can "all alone by himself;" on the other hand,
there is something absolutely awful in being alone with a pretty and
modest woman, and being compelled to "look one another in the face,"
like the two bullying kings of Judah and Jerusalem. It is much like
"watching with a corpse," a ceremony derived, I believe, from the
orientals, and still prevalent in good old New England.

The parties were soon relieved from their embarrassment; the two
cousins, after asking a thousand questions, and only waiting to hear two
hundred and fifty of the answers, bounced off into the house, leaving
the two lovers, for such they were now most decidedly, to the luxury of
their own thoughts and conversation. We have no time, inclination, nor
ability, to describe the steps by which they advanced from mere
acquaintance to the can't-live-without-each-other and hopeless state of
deep and incurable love.

Perhaps Morton was not grieved or angry when it was declared, after a
thorough survey by Captain Hazard, Coffin, and himself, to be
absolutely necessary to procure a new foremast and bowsprit for the
ship before she sailed--the first being rotten, and the other badly
sprung. As Captain Hazard placed the most implicit confidence in
Morton's capacity to purchase and superintend the making of the
requisite spars, the latter, to his great joy, was requested to take
charge of the shore department. By this arrangement his opportunities of
seeing his beloved Isabella occurred several times each day.

Though there had been no formal declaration of love between them, they
were each conscious that they loved and were beloved in return; the most
unreserved confidence existed between them, and Morton, who felt most
keenly for Isabella's unpleasant situation, had repeatedly hinted at the
happiness she was sure to enjoy in a more favored country, if she would
leave her uncle's house, and take passage in the Orion for New England.
She affected, at first, not to understand him; but when it became
impossible to avoid perceiving his meaning, she only answered, "No,
no--I cannot--I dare not;" but the answer was always accompanied with a
sigh and a tear; and as from day to day he informed her of the progress
the ship made in her repairs, her negative became fainter and less
resolutely expressed.

Owing to the necessity of making some repairs in his country residence,
the governor and his family had latterly resided altogether in St. Blas;
and as the puppy Don Gregorio watched with a suspicious and malignant
eye, the frequent visits of Morton, the lovers had generally met at the
house of Dame Juanita, the front of which was occupied as a shop, with a
little parlor back of it, to which Isabella had access by passing out of
the gate in the rear of her uncle's house, without going through the
street.

With all the glowing eloquence of young love, and hope, and confidence,
Morton detailed to her the thousand and one schemes that his fertile
imagination suggested; Isabella could see but one hideous feature in
them all--the dreadful fate that awaited him if unsuccessful.

"Listen to me," said he one day to her, as she had been urging to him
the terrible risk he encountered--for she seemed to have no eyes for the
certain immuring in a convent that awaited _her_--"listen to me, dearest
Isabella; the ship is now nearly ready; she will sail in three or four
days at farthest, and will sail at ten or eleven o'clock at night, to
take advantage of the land-breeze. I will have my boat at the quay, and
horses here in town; in the dusk of evening, and with a little disguise,
you will not be recognised; there is no guarda-costa here now, and
before the sun rises we shall be out of sight of land, and beyond the
reach of pursuit."

She made no reply, but sat pale as marble; the images of her kind and
affectionate aunt and cousins, and even of her much-feared but still
much-loved uncle, floated before her eyes, and seemed reproaching her
with unkindness and ingratitude; while, on the other hand, her fancy
painted her the wife of the man she loved, and without whom she felt
life would be wretched: she saw herself surrounded by enlightened and
polished society, such as her sainted mother had graced before her; she
saw herself moving in a new sphere, and fulfilling new duties: then
imagination placed before her bewildered mind the sinfulness of
deserting the station in which Heaven had placed her. She sighed deeply
as she almost determined to refuse, when a glimpse of her abhorred
lover, Don Gregorio, caused a sudden and violent revulsion of feeling,
and to Morton's repeated entreaties, "speak to me, dear Isabella; say
yes, love," she at length murmured a scarcely audible or articulate
consent. The delighted seaman caught her in his arms, and pressed kiss
after kiss upon the lips of the struggling, blushing girl.

"Remember, love," said he, as they parted, "be punctual here three
nights hence. I will have horses ready at the end of the street, and
before day dawns you shall be safe."

There was still one thing to be done, and that was to obtain the consent
of Captain Hazard, who, though an excellent, kind-hearted man in the
main, had some rather old-fashioned notions of propriety, especially in
outward form, and would, as Morton knew full well, have very serious
objections to advance against such a mad scrape; but he trusted to the
fondness of the good old seaman towards him, and his own upright and
honorable intentions, to overthrow all the veteran's scruples.




CHAPTER VIII.


On the morning of the day that the above arrangement was made by the
parties concerned, Captain Hazard observed that Morton had despatched
his breakfast very hastily, and was on deck, waiting for his boat's crew
to finish their meal, long before the Captain and Mr. Coffin had shown
any symptoms of pausing in their discussion of salt beef, coffee, and
pilot bread.

"What can be the matter with Mr. Morton lately?" said the old seaman to
his second officer; "he was never so fond of going ashore anywhere else,
and now here he's off and into his boat, like a struck black-fish."

"Why, I some expect," said Coffin, "there's a petticoat in the wind."

"The devil! who?"

"Well, I rather guess it's that pretty blue-eyed, English-looking girl,
that came on board with old Don Blow-me-down, when he first came in
here."

"Ah! I recollect her. I thought Morton seemed to take a shine to her."

"They say she's Don Strombolo's niece."

"They may tell that to the marines; she don't look no more like the rest
on 'em than the devil looks like a parson."

"I don't know" said Coffin gravely, "how the devil looks; but they say
he can put on the appearance of an angel of light, and I don't see why
'taint jist as easy for him to put on a black coat, and come the parson
over us poor sinners."

"Well, well; she's a sweet pretty girl, and looks kind o' as though she
wasn't over and above in good spirits."

"Well, now; I some guess I know a little something about that."

"Why how the d---- did _you_ come to make yourself busy?"

"Why, you see, there's an old woman keeps a _pulparia_[3] close to the
old Don's rookery."

"Hum! so, Mr. Sam Coffin, when you're cruising for information, you
overhaul the women's papers first and foremost."

"Why you see, Captain Hazard, if you ask one of these men here a civil
question, all you can get out of the critter is that d--d 'quien sabe,'
and blast the any thing else."

"Can sarvy! why that sounds like Chinaman's talk; what does it mean?"

"It means 'who knows,' and that's the way they answer pretty much all
questions."

"Well, what was't you was going to say about the girl?"

"Well, the old woman told me the girl's mother was an Englishwoman."

"I told you she wasn't clear Spanish--and being a girl, so, why she
takes altogether after the mother."

"And the old woman said furdermore, that her mother wasn't a Catholic;
she was a what-d'ye-call-'em."

"A Protestant, I s'pose you mean."

"Yes, yes, a Protestant--that's it. Well, you see, her mother did not
die till this girl, her darter, was nigh upon sixteen years old, and
it's like the old lady eddicated her arter the same religion she was
brought up in herself."

"Aye, now I begin to see into it all."

"Well, so you see, as nigh as I can make out, for the old woman wouldn't
talk right out--only kept hinting along like."

"Hum! a woman generally can _hint_ a d--d sight more than when she
speaks right out."

"Well, so it seems this Isabella, being half English and whole
Protestant, won't exactly steer by their compass in religious matters."

"Poor girl! poor innocent little creature!"

"Well, I got a talking 'long with the old woman, and, arter a good deal
of trouble, I got hold of pretty much the whole history about this 'ere
girl. So she told me, amongst other things, that the girl's uncle
wanted her to marry one of them officers that was aboard that day."

"Which of them?"

"That thundering cockroach-legged thief, that was copper-fastened with
gold lace and brass buttons chock up to his ears, with a thundering
great broadsword triced up to his larboard quarter and slung with brass
chains."

"Ah! I recollect him."

"And so do I, blast his profile. He cut more capers than the third mate
of a Guineaman over a dead nigger, and went skylarking about decks like
a monkey in a china-shop."

"I took notice that he looked marline-spikes at Mr. Morton for paying so
much attention to the girl."

"Aye, that he did; but I worked him a traverse in middle latitude,
sailing on that tack. I got him and the rest on 'em into the steerage,
and Mr. Morton and the girl had a good half hour's discourse to
themselves in the cabin."

"I should be sorry to have Mr. Morton try to engage the poor girl's
affections; and if I thought he had any improper intentions towards her,
I would go ashore immediately, and speak to the old governor about it."

"Well now, Captain Hazard, I guess there isn't no danger on that tack.
Mr. Morton may go adrift now and then among the girls, and where's the
man that doesn't? No, no; Charlie Morton isn't none of them sort that
would gain a poor girl's affections only to ruin her. No no; he's too
honorable and noble-spirited for such a rascally action as that."

"Well, I am of your opinion. So now, Mr. Coffin, we'll set up our
fore-rigging for a full do; for we must sail Wednesday evening, right or
wrong."

"Ay, ay, sir."

When Morton returned to the ship at night, he hastened to lay before
Captain Hazard the history of his love, and his plans for bringing it to
a successful crisis, declaring that his intentions were strictly
honorable, and that the lady might easily pass upon the crew as a
passenger. The old seaman heard him to an end, as he urged his request
with all the fervor of youthful eloquence and love; and, having
scratched his head for a while, as if to rouse himself, and be convinced
that he was awake, replied:

"A queer sort of business this altogether, my son; I don't exactly know
what to make of it--what will your father say to your bringing home a
young cow-whale, in addition to your share of the oil?"

"Make yourself easy on that score, my dear sir; I know my father wishes
to have me quit going to sea, and marry."

"Yes, but is not a wife, brought into your family in this way, liable to
be looked upon as a sort of contraband article--run goods like?"

"I am not much afraid of that, on my father's part," said Morton; "and
if," he continued, laughing, "if the grave old ladies of my
acquaintance find fault, I can quiet them in a moment, by quoting the
conduct of the tribe of Benjamin, in a similar situation, by way of
precedent."

"Ah, Charlie! your scheme, I am afraid, is all top-hamper, and no
ballast; wont the enemy give chase? I am sure that Don--Don--what's his
name, that young officer, more than suspects your good standing in the
young lady's affections: wont he alarm the coast, and put the old folks
up to rowing guard round her, so that you can't communicate? Ay, that he
will."

"Trust me for that, sir; if I cannot weather upon any Spaniard that ever
went unhanged, either Creole or old Castilian, I'll agree to go to the
mines for life."

"Don't be too rash, my dear boy; though the Spaniards are only
courageous behind shot-proof walls, and when they number three to one,
they are deceitful as well as cruel; and, if their suspicions are once
excited, they will murder you at once, and her too, poor girl! and think
they are doing God service, because you are both Protestants."

"I can only repeat, trust to my prudence and management; I have too much
at stake to hazard it lightly."

"Then remember, Charles, we sail Wednesday evening: it will be
star-light, but not too dark to see your way. I will defer sailing till
eleven o'clock, if that will suit your schemes."

"It will exactly; or if you sail the moment I return, so much the
better."

With these words, they separated--Morton, overjoyed at the completion of
his preliminary arrangements, all night, like Peter Pindar's dog,

       "lay winking,
    And couldn't sleep for thinking."

The appointed day at length arrived; but the destinies, who had hitherto
spun the thread of the two lovers' fate as smooth and even as a
whale-line yarn, now began to fill it full of _kinks_. Well did the
ancients represent them as three haggard, blear-eyed, wrinkled,
spiteful, old maids, who would not allow any poor mortal to live or die
comfortably, and who took a malicious pleasure in disturbing "the course
of true love." The inexorable Atropos brandished her scissors, and at
one snip severed the thread asunder.

Daring the night there had been a tremendous thunder-squall, and the
morning showed huge "double-headed" clouds, mustering in different parts
of the horizon, and, apparently, waiting some signal to bid them
commence operations; others, dark and suspicious looking, but of a less
dense consistence, were seen scampering across the firmament in all
directions, like aids-de-camp before a general engagement; the
land-breeze had been interrupted by the night-squall, and the wind, what
little there was, blew from every point of the compass but the usual
one; the shags, that tenanted the top of Pedro Blanco, seemed unusually
busy, as if anticipating a change of weather; and, in short, every thing
announced that the delightful, salubrious, dry season had come to an
end, and the empire of continual rain, and drizzle, and cloud, and mud,
and putrid fevers, and rheumatism, and every thing disagreeable, had
commenced. Still the day was delightful after ten o'clock, and the
weather as clear as ever.

Morton had seen these indications of the approach of wet weather with no
small anxiety; he knew full well that the governor and his family would
pass the rainy season at Tepic, a city about ninety miles from the
coast, or at some of the other large towns, in the more elevated and
healthy regions inland. With Captain Hazard's permission, he hastened to
the town, and to Juanita's house, but Isabella was not to be seen. After
waiting for some time, a little girl brought him a short note, simply
saying that she would see him in the evening, but could not before. With
this promise he was obliged to content himself, and rode slowly back to
the Porte. He was punctually on shore again at sunset, and once more
hastened to town, having hired another horse, and directed his boat's
crew not to go away from the quay. Having secured his horses at a
certain place near the zig-zag descent towards the harbor already
mentioned, he passed into the plaza, and was struck with consternation
and despair, at seeing assembled before Don Gaspar's door, horses and
mules in abundance, caparisoned for a journey. In fact, there was
indisputable proof that the family were, in military parlance, on the
route.

He hastened to the good dame Juanita's, and, in a few minutes, Isabella
entered the room, and, throwing off, in her distress, all unnecessary
reserve, threw herself weeping into his arms.

"All is over, dear Charles, all is lost--I set out to-night for Tepic,
and we shall never meet again but in heaven."

"All is _not_ lost, my own Isabella; every thing is in readiness--fly
then with me--while your family are in confusion you will not
immediately be missed, and, before an hour passes, you shall be safe on
board."

"No, no; I dare not, I cannot."

To all his entreaties she seemed deaf, positively refusing to consent to
escape with him; but whether from fear of being overtaken, or from
maidenly timidity, it would be, perhaps, difficult to decide. At last,
Morton, who was nearly beside himself with disappointment and vexation,
relapsed into a short and stupified silence.

"Isabella," said he, at length, and with composure that startled her,
"reflect for one moment upon your situation; you know your uncle's
temper; you know he is not a man that will easily give up any of his
plans--this is your only chance for escape from the fate you dread; do
not then reject it."

She only answered with tears, and continued to repeat, as if
mechanically, "I dare not; no, no, I cannot." Morton was silent a few
moments, when a sudden ray of hope enlivened his gloomy reverie.

"Hear me, dearest; there is one, and only one, chance left yet. If your
uncle urges you to marry, entreat him for one year's delay. Before that
time expires, I trust to be here again. Vessels are constantly fitting
out from the United States to this part of the world--if such a thing
can be effected by mere human agency, I will be on board one of them, if
not, I both can and will purchase and fit out a vessel myself. Promise
me then, my love, that you will use all possible means to defer any
matrimonial schemes your uncle may form for at least two years. But I
trust, if my life and health are spared, that, before half that time has
expired, I shall be here, to claim your first promise."

"I will, I will, dear Charles; I will not deceive you. I know my uncle
loves me, and will grant me that delay. And now we must part; I shall be
missed, and I dare not stay a moment longer. For heaven's sake, keep out
of sight of--you can guess who I mean."

A parting scene between two lovers had always better be left to the
imagination of the readers; because the author, unless he is gifted with
the power of a Scott, a James, an Edgeworth, or a Sedgwick, is sure to
disappoint the reader, and himself besides. My reader must therefore
draw the picture, and color it, to his or her own peculiar taste, and
fancy an interchange of kisses, locks of hair, rings, crooked sixpences,
garters, or any thing else that constitutes circulating medium or
_stock_ in Love's exchange market.

The Orion had dropped out to the roads, and, with her anchor a short
stay-peak, her topsails sheeted home but not hoisted, and her whole crew
on deck, waited only for her first officer. Between nine and ten o'clock
the sound of approaching oars was heard, but in a moment the practised
ears of Captain Hazard and his second officer perceived that the
advancing boat pulled very leisurely.

"Poor Charlie is coming off empty-handed," said Coffin.

"Yes, I was afraid the bird had flown, or the enemy was alarmed. I am
sorry for it from my very heart, for he will be low spirited all the
passage home."

"Well, I aint so sure about that--I've always found salt water a sartain
cure for love."

"I dare say you have, Mr. Coffin; but love is like strong grog, it
operates differently upon different constitutions and dispositions."

"Well, I s'pose that's pretty nigh the case. A good, stiff glass of
grog, in a cold, rainy night, makes me feel as bright as a new dollar
for a while, but then it soon passes off."

"I am afraid poor Morton's love is too deep-seated to be worked off by
salt water or absence. But here comes the boat--hail her, Mr. Coffin."

"Boat ahoy!"

"O-ri-on."

"Are you alone, Mr. Morton?" said the captain in a low voice, as that
gentleman came over the side.

"Yes, sir, but not without hopes another time."

The two officers then descended to the cabin, and Morton explained the
cause of his failure, and expressed his determination to make another
attempt as soon as possible after his arrival in New England. Captain
Hazard insisted upon his turning in immediately, to recover from the
fatigue and anxiety he had undergone during the day, and to his
remonstrances laughingly observed that he was not in a proper state of
mind to be trusted with the charge of a night-watch, and that Robinson,
the oldest boat-steerer, should take his place. Coffin earnestly
recommended a glass of hot punch, as "composing to the nerves;" but the
patient declined, though he permitted Captain Hazard to qualify a
tumbler of warm wine and water with thirty drops of laudanum.

The topsails were now hoisted aloft, the topgallant-sails set, and the
anchor weighed; and, with a fresh breeze off the land, the first officer
sound asleep and dreaming of "the girl he left behind him," a press of
sail, and the starboard watch under the charge of Mr. Coffin, spinning
tough yarns on the forecastle and calculating the probable amount of
their voyage, the stout Orion left the Bay of St. Blas at the rate of
eleven geographical miles per hour.

[Footnote 3: Pulparia, a small shop, generally pronounced
_pulparee_.--_Diabolus Typographicus._]




CHAPTER VIII.

     _Alexander._--They say he is a very man _per se_, And stands alone.

     _Cressida._--So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no
     legs.
                                       TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.


Charles Morton, whom we have somewhat abruptly introduced to our
readers, and exhibited for two or three chapters, without much
explanation, was the only surviving child of a wealthy merchant in one
of the sea-ports in the southern part of Massachusetts. He had received
a liberal education, as a collegiate course of studies is at present,
and in many instances most absurdly, called. Morton could, however, lay
a just claim to be called liberally educated. He went to college without
contemplating to pursue either of the three learned professions, but
merely to acquire a more intimate acquaintance with the classics,
history, belles lettres, and mathematics, than it was then supposed he
could obtain elsewhere. People begin to think differently at the present
period, and have a faint sort of notion that a boy can become qualified
for the every day duties of life, or for practice in the three
professions, without having received a diploma from a college,
exclusively controlled in all its attitudes and relations by one
particular sect of religion, or passing four years of "toil and trouble"
in another university, where he is kept wallowing and smothering in the
darkness of metaphysics or the more abstruse and _higher_! branches of
mathematics; both sciences as utterly useless to him in any situation of
life as a knowledge of the precise language that the devil tempted Eve
in, and which some ecclesiastical writers have laboured to prove was
High Dutch. I have been several times to different parts of the East
Indies, and on more than one voyage have kept a reckoning out and home,
assisted in taking lunar observations and those for determining the time
and variation of the compass, and without knowing any more of algebra,
fluxions, or conic sections, than a dog knows about his father.

After Morton had had the sacred A. B. "tailed on" to his name at a grand
sanhedrim of solemn blacked-gowned fools, sagely called a
_commencement_, because a youngster there _finishes_ his studies, he
felt a strong desire to visit "the round world and them that dwell
therein," and, like many New England youth, not only then but within my
own observation and time, and before the signature of the august
"præses" was dry on his sheep-skin diploma, was entered as an under
graduate in a college of a somewhat different description--the
forecastle of a large brig bound on a trading voyage up the
Mediterranean--a school not one whit inferior to old Harvard itself for
morality, and one where a man, with his eyes and ears open, might
acquire information fifty times more valuable than any that could be
drilled into him at any learned seminary whatever--a knowledge, namely,
of the world and of human nature.

This habit, if it can be called one, of exchanging the quiet of a
college room for the bustle and privations of a sea-life, is not near so
prevalent now as it was several years since; and yet I have known many
instances, and have repeatedly met, in merchantmen and men of war, men
who have received a collegiate education, and have known one case, on
board of an English line-of-battle ship, the Superb, of a dissenting
minister, a foretopman, who could clear away a foul topsail-clewline, or
explain an obscure passage in Scripture, with equal facility and
address, and was both a smart seaman and a smart preacher:

    "As some rats, of amphibious nature,
    Are either for the land or water."

It is a pity our professional men do not travel more, especially
clergymen, who, though generally learned men, are not deep in the
knowledge of their own species. Of course I do not apply this remark to
the Methodist clergy; as their vagabond life makes them but too well
acquainted with the weaknesses of one portion of the human race, while
the alarming and arbitrary dominion they thereby acquire over the minds,
bodies, and estates of both sexes, is beautifully illustrated in the
trial, not many years since, of a reverend gentleman of oil of tansy
and hay-stack celebrity.

Morton's first voyage was rather a long one, but it introduced him to
the most interesting portion of the world, the nations bordering upon
the Mediterranean, while his knowledge of the Latin language was of no
small advantage to him in acquiring a knowledge of the Spanish and
Italian--an advantage that he certainly did not think of, when he was
plodding through Virgil and Horace, Cicero and Tacitus. He returned from
his first voyage a thorough practical seaman, and more than tolerably
acquainted with European languages. He rose in his profession, and might
at the time we introduced him have commanded a ship; but a sudden desire
to go at least one whaling voyage seized him, and a whaling he
accordingly went. In person Morton was above the middling height, some
inches above it, in short he had attained the altitude of five feet
eight inches--my own height to a fraction. Like most young men born in
New England, and who choose a seafaring life, his frame had acquired a
robustness and solidity, his countenance a healthy brown, his chest a
depth, and his shoulders a breadth, that are each and all
considered--and with justice--by the present generation, as irrefragable
proofs and marks of vulgarity. But folks thought otherwise thirty years
since, and, however incredible it may appear, there are actually now in
existence a great many painters, sculptors, anatomists, and perhaps as
many as a dozen women, who persist in thinking that a human being looks
much better as God made him, after his own image, than as the tailor
makes him, after no image in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or
in the waters under the earth. Forty years since, ladies did not by
tight lacing crush and obliterate all symptoms of fulness in the front
of the bust, nor did gentlemen stuff and pad their clothes till they
resemble so many wet-nurses in coats and breeches.

It was the established rule with novel-writers, and that until very
lately, to represent their heroes as tall grenadier-looking fellows,
never _under_ six feet, and as much above as they dared to go, and keep
within credible bounds. "Tall and slightly but elegantly formed," was
the only approved recipe for making a hero. So that a black snake
walking erect upon his tail, provided he had two of them, or an
old-fashioned pair of kitchen tongs, with a face hammered out upon the
knob by the blacksmith, would convey a tolerably correct idea of the
proportions of the Beverleys, and Mortimers, and Hargraves, of a certain
class of novels. Sir Walter Scott, Mr. James, and most of the best
writers, have disbanded this formidable regiment of thread-paper giants,
and we now see courage, manly beauty, talents, wit, and eloquence,
reduced to a peace-establishment size, instead of those long-splice
scoundrels, that used to go striding about our imaginations, like Jack
the giant-killer in his seven-league boots, kicking the shins and
treading on the toes of every common sized idea that came in their way.

It was also considered indispensably necessary, that the heroine should
be "as long as the moral law," and accordingly we heard of nothing but
"her tall and graceful figure," "her majestic and commanding height,"
&c. &c. Let those who prefer tall women take them; for my part, I wish
to have nothing to say to such Anakim in petticoats: conceive the
embarrassment and confusion of a common sized bridegroom compelled,
before a room-full of company, to request his Titan of a bride to be
seated, that he might greet her with the holy kiss of wedded love! On
the other hand, it was by no means unusual to represent the heroine as a
mere pigmy; so that the lovers whose destinies we were interested in,
might be represented by the following lines from an old sea-song, which,
for the benefit of musical readers I beg leave to observe, is generally
"said or sung" to the tune of "The Bold Dragoons:"

    "He looked like a pole-topgallant-mast,
    She like a holy-stone."

Thank Heaven! the taste for this species of writing has "had its day,"
and we have something better in the place of it. Bulwer has indeed tried
very hard to compel the public to admire murderers and highwaymen, and
our own dear, darling Cooper, the American Walter Scott, has held up for
admiration and imitation sundry cut-throats, hangmen, pirates, thieves,
squatters, and other scoundrels of different degrees, showing his
partiality and fellow-feeling for the kennel; and, if he had not at
last, as we say at sea, "blown his blast, and given the devil his horn,"
would have managed to set the whole female portion of the
romance-reading community to whimpering and blowing their noses over the
sorrows of Tardee and Gibbs--the wholesale pirates and murderers, the
loves of Mina--the poisoner, the _trials_ of Malbone Briggs--the
counterfeiter, or the buffetings in the flesh that Satan was permitted
to bestow upon the old Adam of that god-fearing saint, Ephraim K. Avery.

The hero of a novel of the by-gone class was always and _ex officio_ a
duellist; and though the best English writers err against morality and
religion in following this absurd track, it may be urged in extenuation
of their offence, that duelling is generally considered in Europe as
part of a gentleman's education and accomplishments, and in this country
to refuse a challenge brands a man with everlasting infamy, though the
crime is held in the most profound speculative abhorrence, and every
state has a whole host of theoretical punishments, never inflicted, for
the violation of its equally theoretical laws, that are daily evaded,
outquibbled, or broken, with impunity.

Morton's countenance we have taken the liberty to describe elsewhere.
His disposition was naturally cheerful and mild, his temper even, and
not easily provoked. Although somewhat inclined to taciturnity, yet
when drawn out to converse upon any subject he was acquainted with, he
was naturally fluent, and in his language pure and correct. He was a
universal favorite with the youth of both sexes in his native town, and,
during the intervals between his voyages, was always in demand when a
Thanksgiving ball was contemplated, or a sleigh-ride, or a "frolic," as
all such parties of pleasure were and still are called in New England.
At sea he was always beloved, by both officers and seamen, for his
nautical skill and good-nature. Notwithstanding the confinement that his
duties made unavoidable, he had managed to make himself acquainted with
men and manners, and, during the many leisure hours that those engaged
in the whale-fishery always find, he had amused himself with
drawing--for which he possessed a natural talent, reading, and keeping a
sort of memorandum of different occurrences and his reflections upon the
habits of the different nations he visited,--and was, in short, one of
those somewhat rare but still existing prodigies, a well educated, well
informed gentleman with a hard hand and short jacket, many individuals
of which nearly extinct species of animals I have had the singular good
fortune to fall in with during my voyage through life.




CHAPTER IX.

     Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo--without his roe, like a dried
     herring. O flesh, flesh! how art thou fishified!

                                        ROMEO AND JULIET.


Upon his return to his dear native town, Morton was received by his
father with his usual quiet affection; for old Mr. Morton was one of
that nearly obsolete school of parents, husbands, and members of
society, that do not think their duties in either relation require any
sounding of trumpets, and who are of opinion that those who feel most
deeply and sincerely religion, Christian charity, or human affections,
are generally people who seldom make any parade of either. This sect
seems to be very nearly extinct, or at least their leading principles, I
have been told, are exploded from the creeds of modern saints; but as my
acquaintance with modern saints is, thank God, very limited, I cannot
vouch for the fact.

It was not long after Morton's return, when the young people of his own
age and standing began to perceive an alteration in his manners, and
that he, who was a leader in their gay parties, was now a moping,
stupid, silent, dull creature, without any of his former animation and
gaiety. The young ladies took it for granted that he was in love; and
as it was evident that he was not in love with any of them, why of
course some nymph in the Pacific had stolen his heart; and as, moreover,
they had no idea of the existence in that remote and unknown quarter of
creation of any females more fascinating than the amphibious and
lascivious damsels of the Sandwich Islands, (to convert whom from the
error of their ways, more missionaries have been sent out, or
volunteered their services, than to all the rest of the "poor ignorant
heathen" put together,) or the ladies of the North West Coast, who smell
too strong of train-oil to comprehend the truths of Christianity, or
rather of Calvanism, which is altogether another affair, and who are in
consequence left in their original and antediluvian darkness.

Impressed with this idea, and feeling both grieved and mortified that so
excellent a young gentleman as Charles Morton should give himself up to
such an absurd and, in their estimation, unnatural passion, the young
ladies of New Bedford determined to tease him out of it; much upon the
same principle as the Roman emperors endeavored to suppress the
Christian religion by exposing its professors to wild beasts: the wild
beasts grew fat upon Christians, and Christianity grew fat and strong
upon persecution. Perhaps if the diademed tyrants had treated it with
indifference, the effects would have been otherwise.

Whenever poor Morton was met in company, he was always the object of
ridicule to these lively and well-meaning young ladies.

"Pray, Charles, do tell us something about this lady-love of yours;
what's her complexion?"

"How much train-oil does she drink in the course of a day?" said
another.

"Or how much raw shark serves her for a meal?" asked a third.

"Does she wear a spritsail-yard through the gristle of her nose?" said a
fourth.

"Or a brass ring in her under lip?" said a fifth.

"Is she tattooed on both cheeks, or only on one?" said a sixth.

Such was the peculiar style of banter to which he was sure to be
subjected, whenever he went into company; and in a short time he
abstained from visits, and devoted his time to perfecting himself in his
nautical studies, and making diligent inquiries after vessels bound
round Cape Horn. If ever you noticed it, madam, a man in love does not
relish jokes at the expense of his idol. "Ne lude cum sacris,"
ecclesiastically rendered, signifies, do not make fun of the clergy; but
among lovers it means, do not speak of my love with levity or contempt.
I remember when I was in love for the third or fourth time--I was then
studying trigonometry and navigation--my passion being unable to expend
itself in sonnets to my mistress's eyebrow, I gave way to geometrical
flights of fancy, and took the altitude of every apple-tree and
well-pole in the neighborhood, and made my advances to _her_ upon the
principles of traverse sailing.

Nor was old Mr. Morton unconscious of the great alteration in his son's
behaviour while at home, so unlike any thing he had ever observed before
in him, and he saw the change with no small pain.

"The poor boy cannot have fallen in love," said the senior to himself;
"there is nothing more amiable than a copper-colored squaw, beyond Cape
Horn."

One Saturday evening, the old man, being comfortably installed in his
leather-cushioned arm-chair, with his pipe and pitcher of cider (for
merchants, forty years since, drank cider at a dollar the barrel,
instead of London particular Madeira at five dollars the gallon, and the
consequences were--no matter what), commenced the conversation:

"Ahem! well, Charles, my son, do you intend going to sea again, or would
you prefer commencing business ashore? You are now at the age when most
young men think of settling down for life. Let's see--you are
five-and-twenty, are you not?"

"Five-and-twenty next month, father."

"Aye, true; well, it's strange, now I can never recollect your age
without looking into the bible there. I recollect, now, it was so stormy
that we did not dare to carry you to the meeting-house, and so Parson
Fales christened you in this very room."

"I wish," said Charles, speaking with difficulty, "I wish, my dear sir,
to make one more voyage round the Cape as soon as possible, and then I
don't care if I never see a ship again."

"Well, that's strange enough; why, what have you seen in that part of
the world so very enticing?"

"Enticing, indeed!" said the young man, springing from his chair, and
hurrying across the room in agitation; "something that I must possess,
or die!"

"Why, what a plague--why, what's got into the boy?" said the old
gentleman, dashing down his pipe; "you haven't got be-devilled after
those island girls, like a young fellow that I knew from Boston, who got
so bewitched after the copper-skinned, amphibious jades, that his father
was finally obliged to locate him there, as a sort of agent."

"O! no, no, no! she is as white as my own mother, well born, well
educated, and a Protestant," said the son, hurrying his words upon each
other; for he felt that the ice was broken, and saw the old gentleman's
countenance lengthening fast; "oh, father, if you could but see her--if
you but knew her--"

"Hum," quoth pa, "I dare say that sixty and twenty-five would agree to a
charm on such a subject; but pray, how the deuce came this well born,
well educated, white, protestant damsel in the Pacific, where the devil
himself would never dream of looking for such a phenomenon?"

"It is a long story," said Charles.

"If that's the case," said the senior Mr. Morton, "you had better step
down cellar, and draw another mug of cider."

So saying, he replenished his pipe, and disposed himself in an attitude
of calm resignation. As our readers are already acquainted with the
history of the rise and progress of young Morton's love, we shall say no
more of his narrative than that towards the close of it, his father was
surprised out of his gravity, and ejaculated the word "d--nation!" with
great emphasis, at the same time, flinging his pipe into the fire, and
exclaiming by way of sermon to his short and pithy text,

"Why the d--l didn't you bring her with you, you foolish boy?
Why, you have no more spunk than a hooked cod-fish! You'll
never see her again, if you make fifty voyages round the cape;
she's in a nunnery by this time, or, what is more likely,
married to that Don What-d'ye-call-him."

Charles could only repeat his conviction that neither event had taken
place, and his firm reliance upon Isabella's constancy.

"Fiddle-de-dee! A woman's constancy! I would as soon take Continental
money at par!" was his father's reply.

Their conversation on this interesting topic was protracted to a late
hour, when they retired, the old gentleman to--sleep as sound as usual,
and Charles to yield himself most unreservedly to the illusions of
sanguine, youthful hope and love--that love that one never has _very_
severely but once in his life; for love is like a squall at sea; the
inexperienced landsman sees nothing alarming in the aspect of the
heavens, and is both astonished and vexed at the bustle and hurry, the
"thunder of the captain and the shouting;" but when it comes "butt-eend
foremost," he suffers a thousand times more from his fears than the
oldest sailors. After one has become acquainted with the disorder, he
can distinguish its premonitory symptoms, and crush it in the bud, or
let it run on to a matrimonial crisis. For my own part, I can always
ascertain, at its first accession, whether it is about to assume a
chronic form, or pass off with a few acute attacks.




CHAPTER X

                    O for a horse with wings!

                                        CYMBELINE.


Morton's low spirits and anxiety, on his return home, arose entirely
from his having ascertained that there was no vessel then fitting out
for the Pacific, except whalemen; and as their route always depends upon
circumstances, and can never be calculated beforehand with any degree of
certainty, he declined several advantageous offers in them. A few days
after the eclaircissement with his father, he learned to his
inexpressible joy, that there was a ship fitting out at Salem for what
was in those days somewhat facetiously denominated a "trading voyage;"
that is, an exclusively smuggling one.

To Salem, then, he hastened, furnished with most ample and satisfactory
letters of introduction and recommendation. He waited upon the owners of
the ship, and was by them referred to Captain Slowly, then on board. At
the very first glimpse of this gentleman, he felt convinced that there
was no chance for a situation on board. Captain Slowly was one of those
mahogany-faced, moderate, slow-moving, slow-speaking, slow-eating
people, that one occasionally meets with in New England, who are the
very reverse of Yankee inquisitiveness, and never answer the most
ordinary question, not even "What o'clock is it?" in less than half an
hour; men who, in short, as they never ask any questions themselves,
think it not worth their while to answer any. We have been several times
horrified by such people, and our fingers have always itched to knock
them down.

"Good morning, Captain Slowly," said our friend Morton.

The captain, hearing himself addressed, went on very deliberately with
the examination of a jib-sheet block that he held in his hand, turning
it over and over, and spinning the sheave round with his finger, much
after the manner of a monkey, with any object he does not
understand--as, for instance, a nut that he cannot crack--and at last
replied,

"Morning."

"I understand," said Morton, almost mad with impatience, "that you are
in want of a first officer; or at least, so says Mr.----."

Captain Slowly, having cast the stops off a coil of running rigging, the
main-top-gallant clewline, that lay at his feet, and fathomed it from
one end to the other, examining all the chafed places with great
attention, answered with, "Was you wanting to go out in the ship?"

"Yes sir," said Morton, who saw what kind of a dead-and-alive animal he
had to deal with, and was determined to have an answer from him, if he
beat it out with his fists; and though his heart revolted at the bare
thoughts of passing at least a year in the same ship with such a stupid
creature, yet it seemed to be his only chance for reaching the coast of
Mexico in season; "yes sir, and the owners have directed me to you; they
know that I am very desirous of going out in the ship, and they approve
very much of my recommendations and certificates. My name is Charles
Morton; I am the son of old General Jonathan Morton, of New Bedford; I
was out last voyage with Captain Isaiah Hazard, of Nantucket, in the
whaling ship Orion; I am perfectly well acquainted with the west coast
of South America, from Baldivia to St. Joseph, and up the Gulf of
California; I am about five-and-twenty years of age, and have been three
voyages as mate of a vessel; for further particulars, I beg leave to
refer you to the papers in my pockets; I am somewhat in a hurry, and
should feel very much obliged if you would let me have your answer as
speedily as possible."

Captain Slowly, who had never heard an oration of one quarter part the
length addressed to himself before, seemed for a few minutes completely
bewildered. At last, after drawing a prodigious long breath, he
ejaculated, "Well, I declare, I never."

Morton, having waited a reasonable time to give the man a chance to
recover his scattered faculties, at last asked, "Well, Captain Slowly,
what do you think of it? shall we make a bargain?"

The captain was now completely startled out of his half existent state,
and began to talk and act like a man of middle earth; that is, he began
to ask questions.

"Well, let's see; you say you was 'long of old Captain Isaiah Hazard?"

"Yes; are you acquainted with him?"

"I've heard tell on him. Let's see, where do you belong?"

"To New Bedford; are you much acquainted down that way?"

"Some."

"Perhaps, then, you may know my father, old General Morton?"

"I've heard tell on him"----A pause, during which Captain Slowly took a
fresh chew of tobacco, and Morton looked at his watch with great
impatience----"Well, let's see; what kind of a time did you have on't
'long with old Captain Hazard?"

"Very good."

"Make a pretty good v'y'ge?"

"Middling: thirty-two hundred barrels."

"Well, I declare"--another pause--"well, let's see. Calculate to go
round that way again?"

"Yes; and that's what I have called to see you about: the owners approve
of me, and have sent me down to you, and I wish you would give me an
answer."

"Well, I expect I'm supplied with both my officers."

"I thought that was what you was coming to. Good morning, sir."

"Won't you step down below, and take a little so'thing?"

"No, I thank you;" and Morton walked away, cursing him by all his gods.

After satisfying himself that there was no chance for him in Salem, he
returned to Boston. Lounging about the wharves the next day, he was
attracted towards a fine, large, new ship that was setting up her lower
rigging. He drew near, to examine her more closely. Her guns were lying
on the wharf, as were also her boats and spare spars. From the number of
men employed, and the activity with which their operations were carried
on, it was evident that the ship was to be off as soon as possible.
Morton stepped on her deck: an elderly man, with a fine, open, manly
countenance, expressive of great kindness of disposition and goodness of
heart, was superintending the duty. Morton was about to address him,
thinking to himself, "This is no Captain Slowly," when the senior gave
him a nod, accompanied by that peculiar half audible greeting that
passes between two strangers.

"You have a noble ship here, sir," said Charles, by way of starting the
conversation.

"Yes, she is--so, nipper all that; Mr. Walker, you're getting that
mainmast all over to starboard--yes, yes; she's a fine ship, that's
certain. Your countenance seems familiar to me, and yet I can't tell
where 'tis I've seen you."

"I belong to New Bedford; my name is Morton."

"Morton! what, old Jonathan Morton's son?"

"The same, sir."

"Why, d--n it, man, your father and I were old schoolfellows--and are
you old Jonathan Morton's son?"

"Yes, sir; I have followed the sea ever since I left college, and am now
looking for a voyage."

"Well, perhaps we can suit you; times are pretty brisk just now, and you
will not be obliged to look long or far--and are you Jonathan Morton's
son?"

After a short explanatory conversation, a bargain was made.

"And when will you be ready to commence duty?"

"I am ready this moment," was the answer of the impetuous young man.

"No you are not. Don't be in too big a hurry; take your own time;" and
they parted, mutually pleased with each other; Morton treading upon air,
and very much disposed to build castles and other edifices in that
unquiet element.

Reader, if thou art a sailor, thou canst understand and appreciate the
pleasure mixed with pain that fills and agitates the heart when thou
hast unexpectedly obtained a voyage to thy liking. It is then that ideas
come thick and fast into the mind, treading upon each other's heels,
and climbing over one another's shoulders; the parting with much-loved
friends; the anticipated delights of the voyage, seen through that
bewitching, multiplying, magnifying glass, the imagination; the pride
and delight that fills a seaman's breast as his eyes run over the
beautiful proportions and lofty spars of his future home; all these
feelings are worth, while they last, an imperial crown. But soon comes
the reality, like Beatrice's "Repentance with his bad legs:" bad
provisions, bad water, and not half enough of either; ignorant and
tyrannical officers; a leaky, bad-steering, dull-sailing ship; the
vexatious and harrassing duty of a merchantman, where the men are
deprived of sufficient sleep, for fear that they should "earn their
wages in idleness," and of a sufficient supply of wholesome food, lest
they should "grow fat and lazy." Such is the theory and practice of most
New-England merchants: it was different forty years since, and the
outfit of the good ship Albatross had an eye to the comforts of the crew
as well as the profits of the owners; for merchants then thought that
the two were inseparable--the march of intellect has proved the reverse.

Although, as I have already taken occasion to observe, Fortune is
peculiarly hostile to lovers, yet she is sometimes "a good wench," and
so she proved herself, at least for a time. The passage of the Albatross
from the cradle of liberty and aristocracy to Valparaiso was unusually
short, considering that vessels outward bound at that period made a
regular practice of stopping at Rio Janeiro, whether in want of supplies
or not. She was singularly fortunate, likewise, in crossing the "horse
latitudes," not being becalmed there much over a week, a period hardly
long enough to call into proper exercise the Christian virtues of
patience and resignation.

Her passage into the Pacific was shortened by another fortunate
circumstance: Captain Williams was an adventurous as well as a skillful
seaman, and having a steady breeze from the north-east, he ran boldly
through the Straits of Le Maire, and thus shortened his passage perhaps
by a month; for ships have been known to be four months off Cape Horn
beating to the westward, and after all obliged to bear up and run for
Buenos Ayres for supplies.




CHAPTER XI.

                                   Behold
    The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut,
    Bounding between the two moist elements,
    Like Perseus' horse.

                                        TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.


It was on a fine Sunday morning, in the month of December, 179-, that
the oblique beams of the sun were reflected back by the snow white
canvass of a stately ship of about six hundred tons, that with a fair
wind, a good breeze, and all sail set, was steadily pursuing her course,
somewhat east of north. She was in, or about, the latitude of eighteen
north, and one hundred and fifteen degrees west of Greenwich;
consequently, she was in the Pacific Ocean, and not far from the west
coast of Mexico. The north-east trade-wind, which is generally almost
due east, was sufficiently _free_ to allow her to carry her starboard
studding-sails, under which she flew gracefully and swiftly on her
appointed course.

The weather, as usual within the limits of either trade-wind, was
extremely beautiful and mild; the heat, that on shore in the same
latitude would have been excessive, was moderated by the refreshing
breeze. Indeed, it has never been my lot to find such lovely weather in
any other part of this round world, as we meet with through the whole
course of the trade winds. The long, regular swell, so peculiar to that
part of the ocean, gave the noble ship a peculiarly easy, rolling
motion, extremely grateful to a seaman, as the regularity and length of
the swell is a certain indication of a continuance of good weather. As
she lifted her huge bows above the foaming, sparkling wave, her bright
copper, polished by dashing so long and so fast through the water,
flashed in the sunbeams like burnished gold; at the same time, her
temporary and partial elevation above the surface, revealed a sharpness
of model below the water's edge, that at once accounted for the graceful
and majestic swiftness of her motion. The whiteness of her canvass, and
her bright-varnished sides, sufficiently indicated her to be a Yankee,
without the trouble of hoisting the "gridiron."

Her stern "flared" a great deal; that is, its outline formed a very
acute angle with the horizon, which was the fashion of building ships
forty years since. It was ornamented with a great profusion of carved
work, some of which was hieroglyphical, to a degree that would have
puzzled Champollion; but over the centre were two figures in bas-relief,
that could not well be mistaken, inasmuch as the sword and scales
plainly indicated that the one on the starboard side was Justice, while
the cap on the point of a lance "seemed to fructify" that her companion
was no other than Miss Liberty.

Liberty goes bare-headed now--our rulers, wisely reflecting that she is
upwards of fifty years old, and has arrived at years of discretion, have
ordered her to leave off her child's cap. There are among us those who
think that the stripping will go further, and that, in a short time, she
will be as bare as Eve.

The noses of both goddesses had been knocked off shortly after they
condescended to mount guard on the stern of the good ship Albatross, in
consequence of coming into frequent collision with the gunwale of the
jolly-boat, as she ascended and descended to and from her station at the
stern davits. At her quarter davits, on each side, hung one of those
light, swift, and somewhat singularly shaped boats, called whale-boats.
Eight iron nine-pounders on each side, thrust their black muzzles
through their respective ports, and gave her, in spite of her
bright-varnished sides, a warlike appearance.

The upper part of her cut-water was fashioned into a scroll, like the
volute of an Ionic pillar, forming what is called, by naval architects,
a "billet head;" and which, for its neatness and beauty, is very
generally adopted, both in national vessels and merchantmen. Nor was the
bow without its share of hieroglyphics; on one side were displayed a
bee-hive, a bale of cotton, and a crate of crockery; and on the other, a
globe, an anchor, a quadrant, and a chart partly unrolled.

Her royals were set flying, a technicality that I shall not attempt to
explain; she had no flying-jib, nor any of those pipe-stem spars that
are got aloft only in port, to make a ship look more like the devil than
she otherwise would, and are always sent down and stored away when she
goes to sea. Ships, forty years since, carried no spars aloft but such
as were stout enough to carry sail upon, in fair weather or
foul--sliding-gunter sky-sail masts, and other useless sticks, were as
much unknown to ship-builders and riggers, as railroads and steam-boats.

Sitting upon the weather hen-coop, attached to the companion, or entrance
to the cabin, with spectacles on nose, and a well-worn bible on his
knees, sat an elderly man, the commander of the ship. He was tall, and
very strongly built; long exposure to the weather, in every variety of
climate, had bronzed his countenance, and given him an older look than
his real years would have done under other circumstances; but at the
same time, long exposure to the weather had hardened his frame, and
strengthened his constitution, points of some importance forty years
since; so that his chances for a long life were much better than those
of a man of forty, especially one of modern date, who had never allowed
"the winds of heaven to visit his face too roughly." His age was, in
short, about sixty. His countenance, notwithstanding the rude and
ungenteel manner with which the winds and the weather had treated it,
was indicative of much good-nature and benevolence of disposition. He
raised his head from time to time, looked aloft at the sails,
occasionally addressed a word or two to the mate of the watch, who was
walking fore and aft the quarter-deck, and then resumed his reading.

In the weather mizen-shrouds was a remarkably handsome young man, of
four or five and twenty, busily engaged in hanging out to air his
"go-ashore" clothes; a very common Sunday morning occupation at sea,
when the weather is fine. Apparently the sight of his gay garments had
called up a train of ideas of a very varied and checkered hue, to judge
from the different expressions that flitted across his fine manly
countenance, at one moment shaded with anxiety and doubt, at another
bright with hope and joy. In height he was about five feet eight or nine
inches, strongly and compactly built, but far too stout and athletic,
too broad-shouldered and thin-flanked, to pass muster as an exquisite in
Broadway; as his form, though anatomically perfect, a model for a
statuary, and considered very fine by the ladies of his acquaintance
forty years since, would be altogether out of date at the present day.
His countenance, of an oval form, and shaded by rich, curling, chesnut
hair, from exposure to the weather, had acquired that healthy brown
that ladies do not dislike in a young man's face, though they carefully
eschew any thing that will in reality or imagination produce it in their
own lovely physiognomies.

It may be a mere old bachelor's whim of mine, but it always has appeared
to me that ladies who have had the advantage of mixing much in society,
and seeing something of human nature, are _not_ peculiarly partial to
that effeminate fairness of complexion that many fashionable gentlemen
are so careful to preserve, when they have it by nature, or, when nature
has been unkind, to obtain by artificial means; so that Dogberry's
axiom, that "to be a well-favored man is the gift of fortune," is not
altogether absurd. At any rate, I have seen many a "cherry ripe" lip
curled with an expression of irrepressible scorn when the owner of the
lip was accosted by one of these very fair, delicate-skinned gentlemen.
Girls just let out of a boarding-school generally run mad after these
animals; but ladies who have gone through one or two husband-hunting
campaigns, are not to be taken in by such painted butterflies: they very
wisely conclude that a man who takes such a reverend care of his
complexion worships none but himself, and of course he will have no
devotion to spare to his wife.

But to return to the gentleman we have left dangling in the starboard
mizzen-rigging of the ship Albatross: his countenance was indeed
somewhat tanned, but his forehead was as clear and white as ivory; its
breadth and openness gave an expression of frankness and candor to his
face,--so that, taken altogether, his physiognomy, though not regularly
perfect, was exceedingly prepossessing.

The second officer, who was walking the deck, being the officer of the
watch, was also a very good-looking young man, with large black
whiskers, and was two or three years younger than his messmate in the
rigging. His frequent stoppages at the caboose-house, to confer with the
cooks, indicated the second mate, who is always, for some reason or
other, a sort of "Betty," or "cot-quean," as Shakspeare calls it,
continually quiddling about the galley, to the annoyance of the doctor,
as the ship's cook is generally called.

About the after-hatchway were seated the gunner and sailmaker, both
engaged patching old clothes,--while the old carpenter, like the
captain, was reading the bible,--and the armorer was lying flat on his
back, and singing. A very pretty boy of fourteen, an apprentice to the
captain, was playing, or in sea language "skylarking," with a huge
Newfoundland dog. I might as well complete the _rôle d'équipage_ of the
good ship Albatross, by observing that Mr. Jonathan Bolton, M.D., the
surgeon of the ship, and Mr. Elnathan Bangs, the supercargo, were
neither of them on deck. Perhaps they were engaged with their
breakfasts, or their toilets, or their devotions, or their studies,
or--in short they were below.

Just forward of the mainmast were what a painter would call the deeper
shades of the picture, for there the black cook and his equally sable
adjunct, the cook's mate, held their vaporous and dish-washing levee;
while forth from the cloudy sanctuary occasionally pealed a burst of
obstreporous laughter, that the most unpractised hearer might swear came
from the lungs of a negro, without the trouble of invading their
premises for further evidence. Upon either of these culinary worthies,
to use the somewhat hyperbolical language of sailors, "lampblack would
make a white mark."

I cannot avoid taking occasion to remark here, that sailors, like the
orientals, are exceedingly addicted to the use of tropes and figures of
speech, to similes and metaphors. In fact, if any gentleman was about
compiling a treatise on elocution, I would recommend to him to pass a
year or two on board one of our men of war, where he would daily hear
specimens of eloquence, known and unknown to exclusively terrestrial
orators, whether in the halls of Congress, at a public dinner-table, or
on a stump. There is the _narratio_, or anecdote, or sometimes the _long
yarn_; the _aprosiopesis_, or sudden pause, very powerful when in good
hands; the _apostrophe_, or addressing an absent person as though he was
present; the _obtestatio_ and _invocatio_, two different modes of
invoking the gods celestial or infernal; and lastly, the _simile_, or
comparison, in which sailors are a thousand times more fruitful than
Homer himself. The steward--who came up with the breakfast-dishes, &c.,
or "dog-basket," as it is called by them of the forecastle--was a
thought lighter skinned than the cooks.

The crew were lounging about the forecastle and weather gangway; some
walking fore and aft, with their hands in their jacket pockets, some
washing or mending their clothes, and some stretched out in the sun,
chatting and laughing in utter disregard and carelessness of what
to-morrow might bring forth, and most literally obeying the divine
command, to "take no thought of what they should eat, or what they
should drink, or wherewithal they should be clothed."

The crew mustered forty-four in number; for forty years since, ships
that traded to the coast of California, or any part of His Catholic
Majesty's American possessions, or to the North West Coast, calculated
upon a brush, either with the guarda-costas or the savages, before their
voyage was up, and accordingly went well manned and armed.

A group of ten or a dozen were collected around the fore-hatch, where
one of their number sat reading to them the twenty-seventh and
twenty-eighth chapters of Acts--two favorite chapters with seamen
generally, not that they contain any peculiarly glad tidings of great
joy, but because they give a sort of log-book account of almost the only
nautical transactions of moment recorded in holy writ.

The reader, like all who are so unfortunate as to be persuaded to read
to a company, was perpetually interrupted by some one of his auditors to
ask a question, or make a comment. He had, however, this advantage over
the ill-starred wight who essays to read to a party of ladies, that he
stopped and asked as many questions, and made as many remarks and
comments, as any of his auditors.

The reader, after a few verses, describing St. Paul's voyage, came to
the eighth verse of the twenty-seventh chapter: "And hardly passing it,
came unto a place which is called the Fair Havens," &c.; when old Tom
Jones, the boatswain, an old English man-of-war's man, who was lying on
his breast across the weather end of the windlass, interrupted:

"Now, as to all them places you've been reading about, I never heard of
none on 'em before, except Cyprus, and I've been cruising off there in a
frigate; but your Sea lashes and Pump fill ye (Cilicia and Pamphylia), I
never heard on in all my born days; and as for Fairhaven, why every body
knows that's right acrost the river from New Bedford; though how the
d--l they got there so soon I don't see, unless so be Paul worked a
marricle, and it's like enough he did, to let the rest on 'em know what
kind of a chap they'd got for a shipmate."

"Nevertheless," continued the reader, at the eleventh verse, "the
centurion believed the master and owner of the ship more than those
things that were spoken by Paul."

"Well, now I don't see no great harm in that," said one of the audience;
"Paul was nothing but a kind of Methodist parson, goin' about and
preachin' for his vittles and drink, and whatever folks was a mind to
give him; so 'taint likely he knowed any more about a ship than any
other minister."

"Yes, but you know he was a saint," said the reader, "and could foretell
the weather, aye, a year aforehand."

"Could he, faith?" said another, "then I wonder he did not make his
eternal fortin making almanacs."

"But what is a centurion?" asked a third.

"Centurion?" said old Jones, "why she's a sixty-four gun ship; I've seen
her often enough at Spithead, but I forget now whether she was in the
first of June[4] or not."

"Then I 'spose she was convoying the craft that Paul was in," observed
another blue-jacket.

This knotty point being satisfactorily cleared up, the reader proceeded:
"And when the south wind blew softly, supposing they had obtained their
purpose, loosing thence, they sailed close by Crete."

"Now you see," said the boatswain, "just so sure as you have gentle
breezes from the south'ard, you'll have a thundering Levanter at the
back of 'em."

"Yes, yes," said a tar, "I know that to my sorrow. I was up the Straits
last v'y'ge, 'way up to Smyrna and Zante, arter reasons,[5] and we
ketch'd one of these thundering Levanters, and was druv 'way to h--ll,
away up the Gulf of Venus (Venice); yes, I've been boxing about the Arch
of the Billy Goat[6] 'most too long, not to know a little so'thin' about
the weather there."

The reader continued: "But not long after, there arose against it a
tempestuous wind."

"There," said Jones, "didn't I tell you so? I knowed you'd have a real
sneezer in a varse or two."

"Called Euroclydon," continued the reader, finishing the verse.

"What! avast there! overhaul that last word again."

"A tempestuous wind called Euroclydon," repeated the reader.

"Well, you may call it a Rock-me-down, but I say the regular-built name
on't is Levanter; but then I s'pose them thunderin' printers puts in any
thing they're a mind to."

The reading proceeded without much more interruption, except that the
honest tars, who had been up the Mediterranean, were not a little
puzzled by the strange names of places, and could not imagine what part
of the world the saint had got into.

"About midnight the shipmen deemed that they drew near to some country;
and sounded, and found it twenty fathoms; and when they had gone a
little further, they sounded again, and found it fifteen fathoms."

"Egad, I should think they was drawin' nigh to some country pretty
thunderin' fast too, when they shoalened their water so quick, from
twenty to fifteen faddom."

"Then fearing lest they should have fallen upon rocks, they cast four
anchors out of the stern, and wished for day."

"Four anchors out of the starn!" shouted the boatswain, "what the h--was
that for?"

"Why, you see," said the reader, "they used to bring up by the head or
starn in them days--it didn't make a ropeyarn's odds which--they didn't
know no better."

"But four anchors out of the starn," continued the man-of-war's man,
"why, d--it, the very first sea would onhung the rudder, if she was
pitching into it, and knock the whole thunderin' starn-frame into
_smithareens_ in a quarter less no time."

"Now you see," said one of the audience, "I've a notion that the craft
in them days was built with goose starns, like a Dutch galliot."

"May be," said another, "she had all her anchors stowed aft, to bring
her down by the starn."

"But four anchors out of the starn!" murmured the still perplexed Tom
Pipes, "I wonder what old Lord Howe, or Admiral Duncan, would have said,
if they'd heard a first leftenant give out such orders in a gale of
wind."

"Why, there couldn't have been no sailors aboard the hooker, or they
would have let go one anchor first, and if that didn't bring her up,
then another, and so on; but letting all four anchors go at once right
under foot, is what I call a d--d lubberly piece of business, let who
will do it, whether St. Paul or St. Devil, and I don't believe they
could get insurance on the craft in any insurance office in the United
States."

"Yes they could, and I'll tell you why; if a ship goes ashore with an
anchor on her bows, the owners can't recover no insurance; but if the
skipper will swear that all his anchors were down, and good cables
clinched to 'em, he can get his insurance."

"Yes, but there's a thunderin' sight of odds betwixt letting go your
anchors in a ship-shape, sea-man-like manner, and bundling 'em all
overboard at once in such a lubberly way as that you was readin' about."

The reading proceeded, leaving the law question respecting insurance
"open for discussion" at some more appropriate season. Much indignation
was expressed by the round-jacketed audience at the thirty-second
verse: "Then the soldiers cut off the ropes of the boat, and let her
fall off." A vast deal of satire was expended upon "the thunderin'
troops," of all classes, periods, and nations, the whole clinched and
concluded by a remark from the boatswain:

"Aye, sojers, and pigs, and women, is always in the way, or else always
in mischief, aboard a ship, more 'specially in bad weather."

The reading afterwards progressed without much interruption, except at
the fortieth verse: "They--hoised up the mainsail to the wind, and made
toward shore," and then only to remark, "Aye, she was a schooner, or
else a morfredite brig, and they was goin' to beach her; she'd steered
better if they'd sot the foresail too."

The eleventh verse of the twenty-eighth chapter gave occasion for
question and explanation.

"And after three months we departed in a ship of Alexandria, which had
wintered in the isle, whose sign was Castor and Pollux."

"Sign!" said Tom Pipes, "what does that mean?"

"Why, her figure-head, I s'pose," said the _questionee_.

"Yes, but, d--n my buttons, there's two on 'em."

"Well, I s'pose they fixed 'em as the Dutchmen does De Ruyter and Von
Tromp, put one on the knight-heads and t'other on the rudder-head."

"Ay, that indeed."

The reader went on to the fifteenth verse:

"And from thence, when the brethren heard of us, they came to meet us as
far as Appii-forum, and The Three Taverns; whom when Paul saw, he
thanked God, and took courage."

"Took courage?" said old Tom; "I don't know who the d--l wouldn't take
courage with three taverns all in sight at once. I wouldn't wish a
better land-fall if I'd been cast away."

"That there Happy afore 'em must have been a jovious kind of a place,"
observed a seaman, "to judge by the name on't; and then them three
taverns so handy--a fellow might shake a foot, and have a comfortable
glass of somethin' whenever he took a notion."

All further reading and commentary was suddenly put a stop to, by one of
those occurrences that frequently take place at sea, and cause so much
bustle and hurry as is very apt to frighten passengers. The good ship
Albatross was neither thrown on her beam-ends by a sudden squall, for
squalls are not fashionable in the trade-winds, nor did she strike upon
a rock, for there was none sufficiently near the surface; but still, for
a few minutes every thing seemed to be uppermost, and nothing at hand,
like the contents of a lady's travelling trunk.

One of the crew, who had been for some time lying on his breast on the
weather cat-head, crooning over some interminable "love-song about
murder," suddenly surceased his singing, raised himself up, and cast an
eager and hurried glance ahead of the ship, shouted "Fish ho!" at the
very top of his lungs, sprang from the cat-head, and ran down the
fore-scuttle. In an instant all was commotion and hurry. Captain Williams
threw down his bible with most anti-christian and unorthodox
carelessness, and hurried to the forecastle, shouting, "A bottle of rum
for the first fish;" the premium always offered formerly, though I
believe it is getting out of date now, and not only the first fish, but
all the fish caught, are seized and confiscated "for the benefit of
those whom it may hereafter concern," namely, the "cabin gentry;" the
claims of the captors being waived, set aside, and overruled. The two
mates soon followed their commander, "armed and equipped," the one with
the graves, (a sort of harpoon for taking smaller fish,) and the other
with a large reel of fish-line and hooks, baited with salt pork--the
commentators on the two last chapters of Acts broke up their conference,
leaving St. Paul and the centurion in comfortable quarters at The Three
Taverns; their reader carefully stowing away his bible in the bows of
the long-boat before he joined the groups of fishermen on and about the
bows--the great dog Pomp, so named after the illustrious Roman, Pompey
the Great, and not after the allegorical personage to whom Will
Shakspeare so earnestly recommends physic, came galloping forward and
ascended the heel of the bowsprit, where he stood whining, and yelping,
and wagging his tail, exceedingly delighted with the animation and
excitement of the scene; and looking up, from time to time, in the faces
of those nearest him, with an expression that said, as plain as mere
expression can speak, "Why the plague don't you catch some of them?"
Even those two privileged idlers, the doctor and supercargo, made shift
to get on deck, yawning and stretching themselves.

In the mean time, one of the most active seamen, who was perched upon
the jib-boom end, fishing with a bait made of a piece of white duck cut
into a "swallow-tail," hauled up a huge albicore, whose struggles had
well nigh thrown him overboard; but a dozen pair of eager hands were
ready, the fish was safely deposited in a bag, and passed on board, and
the bottle of rum was secured to the legal claimant. The sprit-sail
yard, bowsprit, and cat-heads were crowded with fishermen, and in half
an hour there were nearly seventy fine, large fish flouncing and
fluttering their last on the forecastle of the Albatross.

The cooks at the galley, who had quietly prepared the usual Sunday
dinner, which, forty years since, was generally the same for cabin or
forecastle, namely, flour pudding, called at sea, "duff," and salt beef;
the cooks did by no means contemplate this addition to the ship's bill
of fare with complacency or delight. They foresaw that there would be
fried fish, and broiled fish, and boiled fish, and fish stews, and fish
chowders, and fish sea-pies; in short, there would be no end to the
cooking of fish, till the fish were all eat up. They were not long kept
in suspense on that subject. Mr. Walker, the second officer, approached
their smoky temple--

"Doctor, is the beef for the people in the coppers?"

"Yes, sar, I put 'em in at three bell."

"Well, take and out with it, and get your coppers ready to make a
chowder for all hands; and you, Peter, come down in the steerage with
me, and I'll give you some pepper and onions, and the rest of the
combustibles."

"Yes, Massa Walker, I come ereckly. Dam fish! I wish all fish in 'a
world dead; den 'spose 'a want fish, let 'em eat cod-fish and tatoe."

With this pious ejaculation, which he took care not to give utterance to
till Mr. Walker was out of hearing, he followed that officer down the
after hatchway, while his helpmate, grasping his tormentors, proceeded
to transfer the half-boiled "salt junk" from the coppers to a tub, and
make preparations for a dinner of a more savory and agreeable
description.

[Footnote 4: June 1st, 1794, Lord Howe's victory over the French fleet,
off Ushant.]

[Footnote 5: _Quasi_ raisins.--_Printer's Devil_.]

[Footnote 6: The sailor probably meant the Ionian _Archipelago_; they
generally mistake the word as it stands in the text.--_P. D._]




CHAPTER XII.

     All hands! bring ship to anchor, ahoy!

                                        BOATSWAIN'S MATE.


In the meantime Isabella had suffered her full share of persecution.
Shortly after the family had retired from the coast to the vicinity of
the city of Tepic, where Don Gaspar had an estate, he had urged her to
accept Don Gregorio before their return to St. Blas. The tears and
entreaties of the unhappy girl had, however, so far mollified him that
he consented to put it off some time longer. A severe fit of the gout,
during which Isabella attended him with the most assiduous and
unremitting affection, had also operated as a powerful auxiliary to her
wishes. Pressing her affectionately to his bosom one day, the old
governor declared his unwillingness to part with her; and, "upon this
hint she spake," and easily obtained from him a promise not to trouble
her with any matrimonial schemes till she had completed her
twenty-second year, and even then, if she felt disinclined to the holy
state, she should be at liberty to retire to a convent. As she was not
yet twenty-one, she regarded this reprieve as equivalent to a full
release, and awaited anxiously the return of the dry season. It came at
last, and the family returned to St. Blas.

Several American ships, whalemen and others, visited the port for
supplies, and for the purpose of a little private speculation, with
which the custom-house was not troubled. Dame Juanita's shop, being
rather the largest in St. Blas, and possessing, moreover, the additional
attraction of her own buxom countenance, and that of a pretty daughter
behind the counter, was visited daily by the mates and crews of these
ships; and of them she inquired, by direction of Isabella, concerning
the officers of the Orion, without success for a long time, till at last
the mate of a trader declared that he knew Mr. Morton very well; that
when he saw him last he was engaged fitting out a ship bound round Cape
Horn; and that she was, in all probability, on the coast at that moment,
and would most probably soon visit San Blas.

This intelligence operated like a cordial upon Isabella's spirits; her
eyes were constantly directed towards the western horizon; every sail
that appeared, caused the utmost trepidation and eager hope; and when
the distant sail proved to be some coasting vessel, or the guarda-costa,
that was prowling about continually, her disappointment was keen and
painful. Her cousins laughed at the perseverance with which she watched
the harbor; and, fearful of exciting suspicions, she afterwards only
looked out upon the blue expanse of ocean when alone.

At last, one lovely morning, just after the sea-breeze had commenced
blowing, a white speck was seen in the horizon, that rapidly increased
in size, till in two hours it was plain to all eyes that it was a large
ship, and many thought a man of war. Various were the speculations as to
her object, and still more so as to her nation; for coming directly
before the wind, her colors could not be seen.

As she approached the anchorage, her light sails were taken in and
furled, with a despatch very unlike the manoeuvres of a merchantman,
and which confirmed the opinion of her being a man-of-war. Presently a
flash of red flame and cloud of thick, white smoke issued from her
starboard bow, followed by a corresponding one from the other side, and
repeated alternately, to the number of twenty-one; but the fourth flash
was distinctly visible to those on shore, before the roar of the first
gun came booming over the water, awakening the thousand echoes that
slumbered in the hills and woods about the city.

The ship, having now reached her intended berth, slowly emerged from her
"sulphurous canopy," that the light breeze had kept wrapped around her,
like a veil; and, clewing up her topsails, gracefully swept round
towards the westward, as if intending to go out to sea again; and, in
the evolution, a large, bright-colored, new American ensign floated upon
the gentle breeze from her mizen gaff. She remained stationary for an
instant, when the anchor was dropped, and the sails furled; and the
machine, that but half an hour before,

    "Walked the waters like a thing of life,"

now lay upon their bosom a dark, motionless, inanimate mass.




CHAPTER XIII.

    As an owl that in a barn
    Sees a mouse creeping in the corn,
    Sits still, and shuts his round blue eyes,
    As if he slept, until he spies
    The little beast within his reach;
    Then starts and seizes on the wretch.

                                 HUDIBRAS.


The salute of the Albatross was duly returned from the battery, and the
entire _posse_ of idlers in the port, or little village at the
landing-place, which is rather more than two miles from the town of St.
Blas, were collected at the pier to see what manner of men her
whale-boat contained, as she pulled swiftly in towards the shore. About
half way between the ship and the shore the whale boat was met by that
of the harbor-master; the crew of the former tossed their oars out of
the water, and held them upright in token of respect, while, at the same
time, the officer in the stern-sheets arose and raised his hat. This
respectful behavior was by no means lost upon the military dignitary,
who listened with great affability to the stranger's account of
himself--namely, that he was first officer of the ship Albatross, of
Boston, commanded by Captain Israel Williams; that she had put in for
supplies of wood, water, and fresh provisions; that she was bound to
Canton, and sundry other particulars of minor consequence; Mr. Morton
not deeming himself bound in honor or honesty to inform said
harbor-master that it was the intention of the captain and officers to
smuggle certain cases of silks, cloths, and linen on shore without his,
the said harbor-master's, privity or consent.

As soon as the strange ship had anchored, Don Gaspar mounted his horse
and galloped through the plaza towards the landing-place, at the
imminent risk of his own neck, and compromising the sublunary welfare of
a swarm of children that were basking in the hot sand in utter defiance
of parental authority and of all passengers, bipedal or quadrupedal. Not
long after he had gone, Isabella threw her veil over her head, and
tripped, with a palpitating heart, towards Dame Juanita's house, which
she entered by a back passage well known to herself, and sat down in the
little room behind the shop. In a moment the good dame made her
appearance, her face literally shining with pleasure.

"I have seen him, senorita! I have seen him and spoken with him."

"Seen him! seen whom?" gasped Isabella, but blushing rosy red at the
same time.

"Ah, senorita, you know whom," said Juanita, "that handsome American
that you used to meet here a year ago nearly."

As the young lady sat with her back towards the shop-door, and was
besides eagerly drinking in all Juanita's news, she did not perceive
that a man had entered the room. A gentle voice that thrilled to her
heart pronounced her name; she turned, uttered a shriek, and fell
fainting into the arms of Morton.

Excessive joy did, in ancient times and in one or two instances, prove
fatal; but I suspect that the world has grown more wicked, or the human
heart less susceptible, for I doubt whether there is any body now alive
who has ever experienced a sufficient degree of pleasure at once to do
more than agitate the nerves for a few minutes.

Isabella soon recovered her senses, partly from the effects of cold
water sprinkled upon her face by the tender-hearted Juanita, and perhaps
there might be something reviving in a soft kiss that the young seaman
could not avoid dropping upon her lips as he supported her in his arms.
I have already intimated my incompetency to describe a parting scene
between two lovers, for reasons then specified: a tender meeting is
liable to the same objections. Such things should always be left to the
reader's imagination; for it is ten chances to one if the author's
description pleases any body, not even himself.

After the first emotions of meeting had subsided, Isabella informed her
lover of her uncle's promise, and that she was free from all persecution
with regard to Don Gregorio. Morton, on the other hand, communicated to
her all that had passed between his father and himself. "So that you
see, dearest Isabella, if you had consented to go home with me as I
urged, we might at this moment be comfortably seated at my father's
fire-side. In the mean time, Captain Williams knows how I am situated,
and will give the most effective assistance to my plans. We shall
probably be detained here for two or three weeks, and I shall have daily
opportunities of seeing you."

Time flies with lovers, and they had been nearly an hour in
conversation, when Juanita put them in mind of its lapse, and urged the
danger of Isabella's staying away from her uncle's house any longer.
They separated with a thousand promises to meet again.

In a day or two, Captain Williams had made arrangements for disposing of
the remnant of his cargo, in a quiet way, to certain merchants who are
always and every where to be found, ready and willing to evade the
exactions of the custom-house.

One branch of the river empties into the north-eastern, part of the bay,
from which the slope up to the plaza on the summit of the hill is
gradual. The point formed by this branch and the bay is covered with a
thick growth of limes and other trees, through which winds a scrambling
sort of path, passable by mules, and but very seldom used. After winding
through the trees and bushes, and up a steep hill, that farther to the
left, or westward, becomes an abrupt precipice of two hundred feet in
height; it emerges in an obscure and narrow street on the eastern side
of the town.

The Albatross's launch was sent every night, under the command of one or
other of the mates, with a cargo of goods, which were landed near the
termination of the above-mentioned winding path, and loaded upon mules
that were always ready, concealed among the bushes, to be brought out at
an appointed signal from the boat. It would be difficult to select a
place better adapted for the peculiar purpose; unguarded and
unsuspected, nobody had ever dreamed of any smuggling attempt being made
there.

This plan of landing cargo had been carried on with equal secrecy and
success for many nights, till nearly all was discharged. In the mean
time, information had been conveyed to the commandant, by some person
who had accidentally seen the boat one night engaged in discharging her
precious freight, and the mules loading on the beach. In consequence of
this intelligence, orders had been issued to the officer commanding the
troops at San Blas, to march a strong party to the place, and secure all
merchandize and persons found there. Part of this behest was executed to
the letter; the remainder Jupiter dispersed into thin air.

Mr. Morton, with six hands in the jolly-boat, came on shore at the usual
time, bringing all the remainder of the cargo, which was hardly enough
to load two mules. Every thing was landed and loaded upon the mules
without interruption, excepting a small package containing silk
handkerchiefs, when suddenly a low whistle was heard in the bushes.

"What is that?" said Morton, who held the aforesaid package in his
hands.

"Santa Maria!" exclaimed the muleteers, springing upon their horses, and
putting them and the mules into rapid motion; "vienen los soldados
malditos," the d--d soldiers are coming; the signal was repeated, and in
an instant soldiers rushed from different parts of the adjacent bushes,
and surrounded the whole party. So sudden and complete was the surprise,
that the seamen, though standing in the edge of the water, were
intercepted and made prisoners. Morton, as soon as he perceived that
flight and resistance were equally out of the question, hailed the two
men in the boat that was lying a few yards from the shore, and ordered
them to make the best of their way to the ship--an order that was
acknowledged by the customary "ay, ay, sir," and obeyed by hoisting
their lug-sail, which, filled by a fresh land-breeze, soon carried them
out of danger. He, with the remaining four men, were made prisoners.
Whether the soldiers were not used to acting against cavalry, or thought
the prisoners of more consequence than the merchandise, is doubtful; the
mules and their drivers got off safe, although several shots were fired
at them as soon as their retreat was perceived.

Ascertaining that there was nothing more to be got on the field of
battle; for it was indeed one, as one of the sailors, feeling somewhat
restive under the tight grasp that the corporal laid upon his collar,
had bestowed upon that humble candidate for military honors a slap in
the face, that caused him, in the Nantucket dialect, to "blow blood;"
the guard took up their line of march through the wood with their five
prisoners. On their melancholy route towards the town, the commanding
officer of the party, mindful of the politeness and attention with which
he had been treated by Mr. Morton, behaved to his prisoners with great
kindness, and endeavored to console this officer by representing that
nothing had been found that would or could be deemed sufficient to
convict them of any attempt to violate the laws of the province; that
the escape of the mules was a favorable circumstance, as they had
carried off whatever might have otherwise appeared as evidence against
them, whether merchandise or men; which last, with the treachery
peculiar to Spaniards, and more universally inherent in the mixed breed
of the colonies, would compound for their own safety by implicating
their employers; that the governor was a gentleman, and a man of kindly
feelings, and that he would undoubtedly pass over what had occurred that
night without the exercise of any greater severity than perhaps the
imposition of a moderate fine; with sundry other and similar topics of
consolation, suggested by kindness and sympathy. But Morton's mind was
too confused and agitated by the events of the evening, to allow him to
make much reply or to pay much attention to the consolations of the
officer; he longed to reach the guard-house, where, in the solitude and
silence of the prison, he might have time and opportunity to arrange his
ideas, and reflect upon his melancholy and apparently hopeless
situation, and correspond, if permitted, with his commander, and with
one other.

"But no," he thought, after the lovely image of Isabella had presented
itself to his mind, "no, she will not dare to visit me, or exert herself
in my behalf--and why should she? it would but expose her to suspicion,
and me and these poor fellows to greater rigor."

He knew but little of the strength of woman's love--her devotedness, her
acuteness, and energy and activity, in contriving and executing plans
for the relief or comfort of her loved one in affliction. His four
companions in misfortune, with all that philosophical indifference to
calamity and danger that characterizes seamen, after expending an
incredible number of strange curses and sea jokes upon their captors,
stretched themselves upon the stone floor of the "caliboza," or prison,
and were soon sound asleep; and Morton himself, fatigued in body and
harrassed and bewildered in mind, soon lost all consciousness of his
unhappy situation in deep and prolonged slumber.

Having lodged his prisoners in the guard-house and given orders that
they should be treated with all kindness, the officer waited upon the
governor, and reported the proceedings of the night. His excellency
looked rather blank at learning that none of the goods had been secured;
but having complimented the officer upon his vigilance and zeal, he
retired to rest, feeling all the pride and self-gratulation of a little
mind, after having done a very little action. He did indeed feel
somewhat anxious as to the effect the intelligence might have upon the
ladies of his household, who had been projecting another visit to the
American ship, being the fourth that had already taken place; but he
finally determined, as the only course left him, to ensconce himself
behind the intrenchments of his dignity, and to merge the urbane
feelings of the hospitable gentleman in the awful gravity of the dog in
office. Besides, he hoped that his vigilance and severity on the present
occasion would be a sweet savor in the nostrils of his august monarch,
and that promotion would follow as an affair of course; and he dropped
asleep, fancying himself Lieutenant-General Don Gaspar de Luna, Knight
of the most noble order of St. Jago de Compostella, and Governor-General
of the island of Cuba or St. Domingo.




CHAPTER XIV

    I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers.

                                        MERCHANT OF VENICE.


The old Don, on rising the next morning, found all his womankind
"overwhelmed with grief" in consequence of the news of the capture and
imprisonment of the American seamen, and prepared to assail him with
prayers, petitions, and tears, as soon as he made his appearance. In
vain he tried to assume the governor, and to look and act dignified; he
had not, either in appearance or manner, or even language, so "much of
the Roman" in him, as a certain other potentate who shall be nameless;
the persevering ladies followed him, and gave him no rest; and perhaps,
by their pertinacity, drove him to declare, in his vexation, that it was
his fixed and settled resolve to inflict upon his prisoners the
extremity of the law's indignation. In fact, the tribulation caused in
the governor's family by the unhappy events of the past night, had
reached to an extravagant and general height; for even the wife of his
bosom remonstrated in no very gentle terms against her lord's severity;
so that his poor excellency found the gubernatorial chair as
uncomfortable a seat as though its cushion had been stuffed with pins.
He made good his retreat as quick as possible to his usual place of
official business, or _bureau d'office_, but there new trials awaited
him; for the very first person he saw there, and evidently waiting for
him, was Captain Williams.

Isabella, in the mean time, had not yet risen; her sleeping thoughts had
been too delightfully occupied with visions of happiness, and her waking
reveries had so engaged her with day-dreams of prospective felicity,
that she was not conscious of the lapse of time. She had just commenced
dressing, with the assistance of a favorite servant, a native Mexican
girl, when her weeping cousins rushed into the chamber in an agony of
grief. With voices choked and interrupted by sobs and tears, it was some
minutes before they could make their poor cousin comprehend the
melancholy truth, with the gratuitous addition that the prisoners were
to be shot the next morning in the plaza, and directly in front of the
house. Having communicated all they knew, and all they had invented,
they retired to spread the intelligence, to collect more, and to remove
the furniture in the front chamber, for the more convenient witnessing
the execution of the next morning.

Isabella, when left to herself, neither screamed, nor went into
hysterics or tears; she sat still and motionless in the chair, into
which she had sunk when the dreadful truth was made known to her; she
became deadly pale, her temples throbbed, her breathing seemed
oppressed, the light swam before her eyes, she uttered a convulsive sob,
and, to the terror of her faithful and sympathising attendant, fell
senseless upon the floor. The Indian girl, with great presence of mind,
though sorely frightened, dashed water in her face, loosened her
clothes, and practised all those modes of relief, better understood by
ladies than described by me. The unhappy young lady at length recovered,
and, with the assistance of her attendant, threw herself upon the bed,
and gave way to a flood of tears, to the relief caused by which, and her
subsequent repose, we must for a time leave her.

Captain Williams saluted the governor, as they met, with a countenance
partaking of anger as well as sorrow; and, without much circumlocution,
proceeded to state his business, and interceded most warmly in behalf of
his men in confinement. But the old Don, before whose mind visions of
promotion and honors were floating, was in no humor to grant petitions
of any kind, much less one, the acceding to which would overthrow all
his air-built castles; and he steadily refused to listen to the
warm-hearted old seaman's arguments, urged with all the fervency of
almost paternal affection for both Mr. Morton and his seamen. Unable to
oppose or refute the arguments of Captain Williams, proving the
innocence of the prisoners, or, at least, the veniality of their
offence, if guilty, and the unreasonable disproportion between the crime
and the punishment; wearied by the perseverance of the petitioner, and
convinced, though unwilling to own it, by his arguments;--convinced,
too, that he was making a very ridiculous figure in the eyes of his
officers and several merchants who were present, he did, as all
obstinate and pig-headed people do when they find themselves in the
wrong, and see that they are making themselves contemptible: that is, he
plunged still deeper into the wrong, by giving the good old seaman a
harsh refusal to his prayer.

At this unexpected and ungentlemanly rebuff, Captain Williams suddenly
became calm and silent, and, a moment after, left the office. Those who
were present thought they saw in the stern, determined expression of his
countenance grounds for apprehension and alarm; having the most
extravagant opinion of the desperate and daring courage of the
Americans, they looked to see the ensuing night signalized by some
desperate attempt on the part of the seaman, to release his companions
from imprisonment. Their apprehensions were confirmed in a space of time
that seemed impossible to have enabled Captain Williams to reach his
ship, by seeing the Albatross, under jib and spanker, slowly standing to
the westward, and again anchoring full half a mile farther out to sea
than before; not, to be sure, out of reach of the guns of the battery,
but at such a distance as to render it extremely problematical whether
_Spanish_ artillerymen would be able to throw a shot within half a mile
of her, especially in a star-light night.

This movement of the ship alarmed the governor not a little; for he knew
that the guarda-costa was absent on a cruize, and it was doubtful when
she would return, and that there were but thirty soldiers on duty at the
barracks, the rest having recently been drafted into the interior, to
wage war against certain straggling, light-fingered gentry, known in
that part of the world by the general title of "monteneros," or
highlanders, being analogous in their habits and manners, and confused
ideas of _meum_ and _tuum_, to the highland cattle-stealers of Scotland.
In this dilemma, the governor's heart began to relent--he thought that
he was carrying his severity too far.

On retiring to his house to dinner, he was met by a message from his
niece, requesting to see him in her chamber, being too unwell to meet
the family at noon. Thither his Excellency ascended with reluctant steps
and slow, like a child called from his play to be whipped and sent to
bed. He found his niece reclining upon a sofa, pale, languid, and
evidently much agitated. She rose to receive him with her accustomed
affection, and the old Don seated himself by her side.

"Isabella, my love, you appear to be distressed; what is the matter,
child?"

"Dear uncle, my cousin Antonia tells me dreadful news."

"Dreadful news! what is it, dearest?" "She tells me," said Isabella,
shuddering and gasping for breath, "that these unfortunate Americans are
to be put to death to-morrow morning."

"Poh, poh! what nonsense! you know as well as I do that the law gives me
no such power."

"But, dearest uncle, why should they be punished at all? nothing is
proved against them, nothing is found about them that indicates guilty
intentions," for, notwithstanding her indisposition, she had learned all
the facts of the case from her gossip, Juanita, and the officers that
had called in the course of the forenoon, "I have heard all the
particulars, and confess that I see no reason why they deserve
punishment at all."

"You know nothing at all about the matter, child. They have been seen,
at other times than last night, landing boxes and bales at the same
place."

"Are you quite sure that it was not some other persons?"

The governor paid no attention to this question, which he had never
dreamt of asking his informer.

"Besides, if these are pardoned, other offenders will plead their
innocence, and refer to the case of these men as a precedent. No,
Isabella, I cannot, I dare not do it; they must abide by the
consequences."

"Then if their lives are to be spared, what is to be done with them?"

"I shall write to the Viceroy, and keep them confined till I receive his
instructions as to their future destiny."

"And that," said the young lady, in a faint voice, "will be worse than
death! O think of it, dear, dear uncle."

"You take too gloomy a view of the case," said Don Gaspar, kissing the
forehead of the lovely suppliant; "the Viceroy may pardon them, but I
dare not--You plead in vain," continued he, as he saw she was about to
speak; "were they my own sons, they should undergo the sentence of the
law for their misconduct."

Fearing to excite her uncle's suspicions by too great urgency, Isabella
changed her battery--

"At least, let them be used kindly--let them have plenty of good food
and wine."

"Certainly, dearest little niece," said the governor, delighted to find
the most formidable and irresistible of his female assailants so
lukewarm in the cause of the prisoners, "and you shall be their
provider."

"Me, uncle? well, I own I should wish to visit the prison occasionally,
to see that they are comfortable."

"You shall whenever you please," said the Don, rising, and going to
Isabella's writing desk; "there, there is an order, signed by my own
hand, that will admit you whenever you please." So saying, he retired.




CHAPTER XV.

    I know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not.

                                        ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.


A writer, evidently a Frenchman, in the British or some other
Encyclopædia, under the article "Man," draws a very ingenious contrast
between the two sexes, which is correct enough in its general
principles, but exceedingly erroneous in many very important points.
Speaking of the different behavior of men and women, under the pressure
of grief or calamity, he says, "Woman weeps--man remains silent--woman
is in agony when man weeps--she is in despair when man is in agony."

Mr. Philosopher, you are a goose. It is obvious that you have drawn your
conclusions from your observations of Frenchmen exclusively, who are
theatrical and affected from the cradle to the grave.

"Woman weeps while man remains silent."--True; she gives vent to her
feelings by weeping, and her full heart is tranquillized by her tears,
which seem not only to relieve and refresh the swollen and burning eyes
of the body, but to render those of the mind more clear and
penetrating. What, for instance, was the language and sentiment of Mary
Queen of Scots, when Rizzio was murdered in her presence? "I will dry up
my tears," said the high-spirited descendant of the Stuarts, "and think
of revenge." Man's remaining silent is not always an evidence of
fortitude or resignation; it may be stupidity and want of feeling, or
gloom and sulkiness; a disposition to find fault with Divine Providence
for visiting him with affliction.

"Woman is in agony when man weeps." Absurd! her tears have relieved her
agony. Like the elastic and pliable willow, she has yielded to the storm
of grief, and her buoyant spirit rises comparatively uninjured from the
conflict.

"Woman is in despair when man is in agony." It is said that the
difference between a fool and a madman is, that the fool draws wrong
conclusions from correct principles, and the madman correct conclusions
from erroneous principles. I leave my readers to judge under which
denomination the author quoted comes. There is but one step in his
climax that approaches the truth, and he has drawn a series of wrong
conclusions from that. The concurrent testimony of a host of writers,
both moralists and historians, goes to establish the fact, that, under
the pressure of remediable misfortunes, women have infinitely greater
acuteness and quickness of perception of means of relief--more
promptness, energy, and courage in carrying them into execution, than
men. "Hope the deceiver" retains possession of the heart of woman long,
long after man has hanged, shot, or drowned himself in despair.

Isabella was certainly almost overcome by the melancholy intelligence,
when first communicated; but weeping and the repose of the morning had
tranquillized her, and the facts that she had ascertained had given her
fresh courage and hopes. Not daring, however, to urge her uncle too far
at that time, as she saw he was out of humor, she was still determined
not by any means to regard one, nor two, nor twenty refusals as
decisive; but, if he could not be "carried by boarding," to blockade him
into compliance. Her uncle's order for her admittance to the prison, she
determined only to use occasionally, and as circumstances pointed out,
for fear of exciting suspicion; but to reserve it as a sort of sheet
anchor for the perfection of a half-formed scheme that was already
agitating her brain.

Under pretence of merely ascertaining that the prisoners were supplied
with all the comfort that their situation would admit, but in reality to
communicate with her lover, she visited the prison that very day. She
found the prisoner, who was already heart-sick of the confinement,
independently of its probable termination, walking listlessly up and
down the passage leading to the inner prison, which was both spacious
and airy; for, as before observed, his excellency had so far relented as
to direct that the prisoners, during the day, should be permitted to
enjoy the air. His surprise at seeing her was extreme--not that he
doubted she would make an attempt to see him, but he considered it a
hopeless one. She met him with tranquillity, almost cheerfulness.

"Thank heaven!" he exclaimed mentally, "there is some hope of once more
snuffing fresh air; that sweet girl would never be so composed unless
she had some plan in her mind for my delivery. Isabella, dearest
Isabella, tell me, for heaven's sake, how have you managed to get into
this place, that every one else is so anxious to keep out of? Has the
old Don dismounted from his high horse? He has been polite enough to
make me a morning call, but I am afraid he does not intend to allow me
to return it. However, as long as he permits you to follow his example,
I hope that I shall be enabled to bear the disappointment with becoming
resignation."

"Hush, hush! how can you talk so giddily, when you know not what may be
your fate?"

"Why, hanging is not a favorite Spanish punishment, so I suppose he will
honor me so far as to expend a little powder and shot upon me."

"O, Charles! Charles! be quiet, for heaven's sake. Tell me, what did my
uncle say?"

"Say? why, he scolded a good deal, said that I had heretofore behaved
very decently, and that he was very sorry to see me here."

"He has written to the viceroy, to know what he is to do with you. My
uncle, with all his faults, is an angel of mercy, compared with that
cold-blooded, bigoted, cruel man. I have read somewhere that it is
written over the gates of the infernal regions 'Let all who enter here
leave hope behind.' Let all who fall into the hands of that haughty
nobleman, whether innocent or guilty, leave hope behind too. He is
governed entirely by his priests, and the very circumstance of your
being a Protestant, however harmless, and found in his dominions, would
be sufficient to make you an object of hatred and vengeance."

"Well, all that may be; but recollect my country will not tamely permit
her sons to be dragged to foreign prisons, without knowing wherefore."

"You cannot suppose that your country will plunge into a war for your
sakes?"

"No, no, my love; she would be a fool if she did; but there is a set of
fellows called ambassadors, that often do more with their tongues than
ten thousand good fellows can with their bayonets. But tell me, if you
know, where is the ship? what says the good old Captain Williams to the
scrape?"

"The ship has moved farther out, and he has been on shore twice to-day
to intercede for you, but without effect, though my uncle has so far
relented as to order you all the comforts that you wish."

"I should be obliged to him, then, for the comfort of walking out of
prison."

"When the ship moved out of gunshot," continued Isabella, without
noticing what she thought his artificial gaiety, "there was some
apprehension that Captain Williams intended to make some desperate
attempt to release you; but he has been on shore since, and had an
interview with my uncle, and the alarm has subsided."

"Well done! that is the best thing I have heard this long time--a whole
garrisoned Spanish town thrown into consternation by a single Yankee
merchantman! upon my word, I shall entertain a more exalted opinion than
ever of Spanish courage."

Isabella permitted him to indulge his national vanity, when she again
urged that his situation was but little short of desperate, unless he
was speedily relieved from it.

"I know, I know that my head is in the lion's mouth, and how it is to be
got out I know not. If I could see Captain Williams--perhaps a good
round fine paid to his high mightiness might open these doors."

"I will write to Captain Williams myself," said the young lady, "perhaps
something of that kind might be done. In the mean time, whenever you
have any wine or other provisions, of which I will see that there shall
be no lack, make a point of sharing it with the guard; and, by all
means," she added, in a lower tone, "see that the sentry is never
forgotten."

"Ha! oho! I see the whole affair--there are never but five men on duty
here at night." "Rash, hot-headed creature! there will be no occasion
for such madness. Even if you should escape from prison, and reach your
ship in safety, which would be next to impossible----"

"Well, what?" said Morton, observing that she was silent. She raised her
eyes, swimming in tears.

"I understand you--dear, dear Isabella, do you think I would leave this
country without you? No, never."

"Then remain perfectly quiet, attempt nothing, do nothing of yourself.
In the mean time," continued she, rising, "do not abandon yourself
either to hope or despair."

With these words she left the prison.




CHAPTER XVI.

    As cannons shoot the higher pitches
    The lower we let down their breeches,
    I'll make this low, dejected fate
    Advance me to a greater height.

                                        HUDIBRAS.


Captain Williams, immediately upon his landing on the morning after the
events related in the last chapter had taken place, was met at the Port
by a woman of rather ordinary appearance, who put a letter into his
hands, and retired without speaking. The letter was written in a woman's
hand, but without signature, and was as follows:

     "SIR:--A friend of Mr. Morton is making every possible exertion to
     deliver him and his companions from imprisonment. That friend
     entreats that you would do nothing rashly, or that may give cause
     of alarm or suspicion to the governor or garrison, or to any of the
     inhabitants. If you will call this evening at the shop of dame
     Juanita Gomez, in the plaza of San Blas, a person will meet you
     there, and explain more fully the friendly intentions of the
     writer."

The honest seaman, after mature deliberation, came to the conclusion
that the writer of this anonymous epistle could be no other than the
fair Isabella, of whom he had heard Morton speak so often; and he
resolved to attend to its directions most strictly. Accordingly, as a
preliminary step, he thought best to reconnoitre the plaza as soon as
possible, that he might make no unpleasant mistakes in the dusk of
evening.

While at St. Blas, he had another interview with the governor, and
endeavored to ascertain the intentions of that dignitary with regard to
the destination of his prisoners. The governor, however, seemed to
regard that as a state secret, and declined making any but a very
evasive answer. As some amends for his severity, he condescended to give
Captain Williams full permission to visit the prisoners, of which the
veteran immediately availed himself. The kind-hearted old seaman was
deeply affected, as he held Morton in his arms with all the affection of
a fond father--

"That ever I should live to see my old school-fellow Jonathan Morton's
son in such a situation, and not be able to help him,"--were the first
words he was able to articulate. Morton endeavored to calm him, by
repeated assurances that he felt no apprehension; that he had no doubt
that a certain friend was busy in projecting a plan for their
deliverance. It was some time before he was sufficiently composed to
converse.

"Have you tried the old Don with a few doubloons?" asked Morton.

"No, d--n him, I never thought of that; I can't get a word of common
sense or common civility out of the old mule."

"I believe if he had taken the boat-load of goods when he took us, that
he would have been more willing to listen to you."

"Ah, very like; the old fox missed the goose, and he is venting his
malice upon you in stead. But, my dear boy, I don't exactly know how to
go to work to offer a bribe. Damme, I could land thirty men this blessed
night, and pull this old rookery down, and get you all out that way; but
as for bribery, it is a devilish dirty piece of business, to make the
best of it; besides, I tell you, I don't know how; if I did, I would try
it, as dirty as I think it."

Morton, could not forbear smiling at the old man's unwillingness to
employ a piece of machinery, at the present day so indispensable in our
government throughout all its branches; he assured him that nothing was
more simple; it was only to wait upon the Don in private, and request
his acceptance of either cash or certain valuable merchandize, that
would be attractive in the sight of the governor. "There are my
silver-mounted pistols, and curious East India dagger, and my rifle,
that all might be thrown out as baits to begin with;"--it was all in
vain; the blunt old seaman still persisted that bribery, or any thing
that approximated it, was but a dirty affair after all; and that,
although he would leave no plan untried to effect the liberation of the
prisoners, there was a moral contamination attached to the mode proposed
that he neither could nor would submit to.

True to his appointment, Captain Williams, soon after sunset, repaired
to dame Juanita's shop, with the location of which he had previously
made himself acquainted. He was introduced by that worthy old lady into
her back parlor, if a little apartment ten feet square, with a clay
floor and no windows, deserves so dignified, or rather so _comfortable_
a title; and in half an hour a female, closely veiled, entered the room.
Notwithstanding her disguise, the old seaman had tact enough to perceive
that his companion was young and graceful, or in more modern language,
genteel, while the silvery music of her voice, as she addressed him,
convinced him that she could be no otherwise than beautiful.

"Are you," said the lady, in a hesitating, tremulous voice, "are you the
commander of the American ship in the bay?"

"I am; and you, senorita, are the lady who wrote me the note that I
received this morning?"

"Yes, I--that is, I sent you a note requesting to see you."

"And you are the generous, devoted, and true friend that takes such a
lively interest in the fate of my friend and officer, and his companions
in prison and misfortune?"

"I am--I am," replied the lady hurriedly.

"And you are, in short," continued the commander, rising and
respectfully offering his hand, "you are the lady Isabella de Luna?"

"I cannot deny it," said she in a faint voice.

"Then, madam, you see before you one who is acquainted with your story.
Nay, never hang your head for shame; Charles Morton is worth any woman's
love. I am here ready with hand, heart, and head, to second any and
every plan that you may propose, to effect his escape."

The lady remained silent for a few moments, then placing her small hand
in the broad, hard palm of the old seaman, replied, "I know that I can
put the most implicit confidence in you. I have heard from others--why
should I deny it? Mr. Morton has told me often, that, next to his
father, he regards you with affection and esteem as his dearest and
truest friend."

"And he shall never be deceived in old Israel Williams, I can tell him
that, nor shall you, my dear young lady."

"I have but little time to spare," said the young lady, with increasing
trepidation, "and my communication must be brief, as my plan is simple.
To-morrow night, at ten o'clock, Captain Williams, let your swiftest
boat be at the place where Mr. Morton and his companions were taken, and
let her wait there until day-break. It may not be in my power to effect
my object to-morrow night; but let not one nor two disappointments deter
you from repeating the experiment. In the mean time, be on shore
to-morrow as though nothing was in agitation; avoid exciting any
suspicions by either words, looks, or actions; and be assured, that, if
the plan for the rescue of the prisoners fails, it must be from some
accident that can neither be foreseen nor prevented."

The commander of the Albatross having promised to follow all these
directions to the letter, they separated; he to return to his ship with
a joyful heart, and Isabella to reconnoitre the prison previous to
retiring to her uncle's house.

She passed the guard-house at a slow pace and at such distance as to
avoid observation, but sufficiently near to ascertain that all the
guard, four in number besides the corporal, were wrapped up in their
cloaks and stretched out sound asleep upon the stone floor of the
guard-room, which was lighted by a large clumsy lamp sufficiently to
allow her to see its interior. The sentry at the door, who was slowly
pacing backwards and forwards with a paper segar in his mouth, was the
only one awake.

As she bent her steps homeward, she perceived some one approaching her,
in the very direction that she was going, with an uncertain, faltering
footstep that denoted considerable intoxication. To avoid him she turned
to the right with the purpose of making a circuit; but, before she had
gone ten yards with that intention, she perceived that the stranger had
quickened his pace and changed his direction, coming directly towards
her. Exceedingly alarmed, she turned short round and ran, and in a
moment perceived that her pursuer was likewise running, and rapidly
gaining upon her. Fear lent her speed, and with the swiftness of a
hunted deer she flew across the plaza towards an open space, terminated
at its further extremity by the precipitous cliff that the town is built
upon, and which we have mentioned more than once. Her intention was to
turn quickly round the corner of a house that stood within four feet of
the edge of the cliff, and gain another street; or, if there were no
other means of escape, to take refuge in the house of a poor widow, one
of her pensioners, and obtain a guide and protector to her uncle's
house.

Her pursuer was no other than her self-constituted lover, Don Gregorio.
He had dined that day with a party of officers, and had dipped rather
deeper into the bottle than, to tell the truth, he was often guilty of
doing. He suspected that Isabella was in the habit of visiting the
prison; but as she was generally accompanied, in all her rambles, by one
or both her cousins, he had thought nothing more of the circumstance.
But now he was convinced that she was just returning from, or going to,
a nocturnal appointment with the prisoner Morton, who had always been an
object of his hatred, and in an instant his jealousy was in full
operation.

The cliff, towards which he was now approaching, was undefended by wall,
fence, or barrier of any kind. My readers have doubtless seen something
similar in their lives; that is, a nuisance that has acquired such a
venerable character from its antiquity, that it seems a species of
sacrilege, a sort of violation of municipal privileges, to remove or
repair it. Such, for instance, in city or country, is a gap in the
street or road, large enough to swallow a brace of elephants at once:
the inhabitants become acquainted with its localities; and, wisely
considering that, as it is _every_ body's business, of course it is
_no_ body's business, to repair it, leave it "open for the inspection of
the public" for a twelvemonth at least; and if any unfortunate stranger
tumbles in and breaks his neck, on a dark night, it is ten chances to
one that the jury of inquest return for a verdict, that "the deceased
came to his death in consequence of intoxication," although he may be
the most abstemious water-drinker that ever the sun shone upon. Such
was, ten or eleven years ago, to my certain knowledge, the cliff of San
Blas.

Maddened with jealousy, and rendered incapable of commanding his
movements by intoxication, the unhappy Don Gregorio was whirled, by the
impetuosity of his own motion, far over the brow of the hideous
precipice. One dismal yell of mortal agony broke the stillness of night,
and the next moment his body was heard far below, crashing among the
bushes and loose stones at the foot of the cliff. Fainting with horror
at the dreadful sight, though ignorant of the person of the victim,
Isabella sank upon the ground, and it was some minutes before she
recovered sufficiently to rise. When, at length, she was somewhat
restored, she turned towards her uncle's house with feeble steps and
slow, frequently stopping to lean against the walls of the houses; she
tottered into the room where the family were assembled, and sank
senseless upon the floor. Her relatives, exceedingly terrified,
administered restoratives, and conveyed her to her own chamber, where,
when she was somewhat composed, she informed her anxious friends that
she had been pursued by an intoxicated person, and was extremely
terrified, and begged to be left to her repose, which she assured them
was all she required. Having obtained all the information they were
likely to, her kind and inquisitive cousins left her, after compelling
her to swallow a composing medicine. She awoke in the morning perfectly
refreshed; the horrid scene that she had witnessed the night before
seeming rather like a terrifying dream than a mournful reality.

Before she left her chamber, a man, with his jaws standing ajar with
horror, called upon the governor, and requested to speak with him in
private. He then informed his excellency, that as he was rambling
through the woods at the foot of the precipice, he had found the dead
body of an officer, who had evidently fallen from the cliff above; that
it was so frightfully mangled by the fall, that no vestiges of humanity
were recognizable in the countenance, or in the body; but that, from
the peculiar fashion of the regimentals, he was almost sure that it was
his excellency's aid-du-camp, Don Gregorio Nunez. Alarmed by this
intelligence, the governor despatched a servant to that officer's
quarters, who soon returned with the intelligence that he had not been
there since the morning of the preceding day. Further inquiry among his
brother officers informed him that he had left their company the evening
before about ten o'clock: that he had been drinking freely, rather more
freely than usual; and that they had not seen him since.

Having commanded the attendance of two or three officers and as many
soldiers, the commandante proceeded to the spot, guided by his first
informant, and was convinced, as soon as he saw the crushed and
mutilated mass, that it was no other than his unhappy officer. Having
given orders for transporting the body to town, he returned to his
family, who, although aware, from his abstracted and pensive manner,
that something had happened to discompose him, forbore to ask any
questions--a line of conduct which, by the way, we would most earnestly
recommend to all wives and daughters. Isabella's mind was too much
occupied with her own thoughts to notice the silence and melancholy of
her uncle; she ate nothing, but her aunt and cousins attributed her want
of appetite to the fright of the preceding evening; as her eyes met
their kind and anxious looks, and she thought of her determination to
quit them forever, she could not restrain her tears; but rising hastily
from the table, she took shelter from observation and questioning in her
own chamber.




CHAPTER XVII.

       ---- I did compound
    A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease
    The present powers of life; but in short time,
    All offices of nature should again
    Do their due functions.

                                        CYMBELINE.


Shortly after the sea-breeze had set in--that is, between eleven and
twelve o'clock--a sail was discovered in the western horizon, standing
in for the land; which sail the commander of the Albatross, in a short
time, made out, with the help of his glass, to be the guarda-costa, to
his no small vexation and disappointment. She stood in, however; but
instead of anchoring as usual, in what may be called the outer harbor,
she ran close in to the landing-place, furled her sails, and then, to
Captain Williams's great relief, sent down her fore-yard, stripped it of
the sail and rigging, and launched it overboard. Two boats, full of men,
were soon seen towing it ashore, the spar having been "sprung" in one of
those sudden and violent "flaws" of wind so peculiar to high and
mountainous coasts.

All this was extremely gratifying to the commander of the American ship;
in the first place the Venganza (for that was the warlike name of this
redoubtable man-of-war), by lying so far up the harbor, was out of the
line between the Albatross and the point where it was intended to send a
boat that night; and secondly, the absence of so indispensable a spar as
the fore-yard would render pursuit impossible.

Captain Williams went on shore in the afternoon, and met the old Don,
who treated him with great condescension, and even hinted at the
probability of his making another visit to the Albatross, to which hint
the seaman replied as politely as could be expected. It was nearly night
when he once more entered dame Juanita's shop, from which he took the
liberty to despatch a message to Isabella. She appeared in a few
minutes, and hastily assured him that the prospect of success was
bright, and that nothing existed at that time that threatened to defeat
their plans.

As soon as he returned to his ship, he made preparations for getting
under way as speedily as possible; the bower anchor was hove up, and the
ship rode by a light kedge, there being then but little wind or tide;
the gaskets were cast off the topsails, and their places supplied with
ropeyarns, which would break as soon as the "bunts," or middle of the
sails, were let fall; the chewlines and other running-rigging were
overhauled; and every other plan for making sail upon the ship as
expeditiously and as silently as possible, was adopted. The crew of the
Albatross performed all these different acts of duty with silence and
alacrity. Although their commander had not communicated his plan to
them, they knew by instinct that something bold and daring was to be
attempted that night for the rescue of their favorite officer, and their
four messmates; and their hopes of a brush with the "Don Degos" were
most keenly excited. They were assembled on the forecastle, holding
"high dispute" and conjecture upon the course about to be pursued.

"Now if I was the old man," said one of the younger seamen, "I tell you
what I would do. I would jest land as many of us as could be spared,
with cutlasses and boarding-pikes"--

"And pistols," interrupted another.

"No; d--n your pistols; they make too much noise; they're all talk and
no cider; besides, they miss fire half the time; and before you get
ready for another shot, Don Dego has his thundering baggonet right in
your g--ts; and then where are you?"

"Now you may all of you," said an old seaman, "you may all of you just
pipe belay with your jaw-tackle-falls. Captain Williams knows what he's
about, and you'll know before morning what he's up to. You'd better take
a fool's advice, and catch a cat-nap before you're called away. The
boats a'n't histed up, and when did you ever know 'em in the water after
dark since we've been lying here?" So saying, the veteran disappeared
down the fore-ladder.

"There goes old Jemmy Bush, starn foremost down the fore-scuttle, like
a land-bear going into his hole."

"Well," said another smart, active young seaman, the favorite of the
crew; "I shall take old Jemmy's advice, and go and get forty winks in my
hammock. If there's more or less of us sent on this expedition, we
sha'n't be called away till ten or eleven o'clock, when all the Degos
are asleep, and there's nothing awake in the town but fleas and cats."

The proposition for sleeping prevailed, and the groups on the forecastle
began to disappear, when the voice of the second mate was heard:

"For'ard there!"

"Sir, sir," answered half a dozen eager voices at once.

"Who has the anchor watch?"

"Bill Thompson and Sam Hughes, sir."

"Go in the boats alongside, and see that they have their full
complement of oars; and see, too, that the masts and sails are on board
all of them."

"Ay, ay, sir."

"Do you hear that, my sons of brass?" said old Jones, the boatswain,
"that looks as if there was going to be wigs on the green before
morning."

We must now leave the marine department for awhile, in order to attend
to exclusively terrene concerns. As night closed, Morton could not avoid
feeling extreme anxiety; Isabella had not visited the prison since the
day previous, nor had she sent any message. Doubts the most annoying
possessed his mind--at one time he thought she had been detected in her
schemes for his rescue; then that her courage had failed, and she had
abandoned him to his fate; or that her affection for her relatives had
overcome her love for him. He had partially made known to his four
fellow-prisoners his hopes of relief, cautioning them against sleeping,
but enjoining upon them to keep perfectly quiet.

It was now past nine o'clock; and, with mingled feelings of
disappointment, grief, and anger, he was just resigning all hopes, when
the sentry at the door challenged. The next moment a person dressed in a
long, loose cloak stood before him, whom he immediately recognized as
his loved Isabella.

"I have brought you some supper and some wine," said the young lady,
addressing him, as usual upon similar occasions, in Spanish; "I ought to
have come before, but it was impossible."

So saying, she set her basket upon the stone bench, and, in so doing,
whispered Morton:

"Every thing is ready; be patient, and be guided by me."

"But how are you about to manage these fellows? it will take all night
to get them drunk, if that is your plan; for your soldiers, it cannot be
denied, are extremely temperate, and will seldom do me the honor to
empty more than a single bottle among the whole five."

"Hush, hush; I have a surer way than mere wine."

As she spoke she drew from her bosom a phial, containing a dark liquid.
Morton started back in horror--(he thought he saw, in the composed and
lovely countenance of the beautiful being before him, the cold-blooded,
deliberate, practised assassin--)

"Good God! Isabella, is it possible? never, never will I owe my life and
liberty to such abominable, such cowardly means!"

"Dismiss your suspicions," said Isabella, turning pale and trembling;
"they are unworthy of you, and wholly unmerited by me. Not to save
_your_ life, which I value as I do my own, would I commit mur--the crime
that you suspect. This phial contains a simple opiate, not half so
dangerous or disagreeable as the laudanum and camphor of your ship's
medicine chest. The sleep produced by it is speedy and deep, and lasts
four or five hours."

Observing that Morton still looked distrustingly, she continued, with
streaming eyes--

"Dear Charles, if you doubt me still, I will swallow the whole; its
operation will not take place before I reach home, and will only cause
long, deep sleep; but, in that case, your hopes of escape are cut off
_forever_. To-morrow, or the next day, at farthest, you are to be sent
to the capital"--her tears choked her utterance.

"Dearest Isabella," said Morton, taking her hands in both his, and
pressing them to his bosom, "forgive my cruel suspicions, but I own you
startled me exceedingly."

"Leave all to my management, and in half an hour all will be well."

In the mean time the seamen had "boarded" the basket, and spread its
contents upon the stone bench, that did triple duty as a bed, a seat,
and a table, as occasion required. The soldiers roused themselves at the
gurgling sound of the wine, as it was decanted into cups made of the
large end of an ox's horn, scraped thin, and capable of containing a
pint or more. Isabella dexterously poured the contents of the phial into
a cup, which was filled with wine, and Morton, taking it in his hand,
approached the corporal with a nod of invitation. After holding it to
his lips for some time, as if taking a deep draught, he passed it to the
corporal; that officer, touching his cap _à la militaire_, drank and
passed the horn, according to South American custom, to his comrades.
The prisoners and Isabella watched its circulation with most painful
anxiety, and soon had the felicity of beholding it turned bottom upwards
over the mouth of the sentry at the door. Another bottle was opened, and
poured, unobserved by the soldiers, into another cup, which, being
handed to the sailors, was almost immediately passed back again, "a body
without a soul." Another cup, medicated like the first, was prepared,
and the prisoners, apparently busied with their supper, awaited with
trepidation the effect of the medicine.

After the lapse of fifteen or twenty minutes, which seemed as many hours
to the prisoners, the corporal betrayed palpable symptoms of somnolency.
He had seated himself with his back to the wall, and his feet towards a
small fire that was kept burning in the middle of the guard-room every
night, to drive away the moschetoes, and had commenced a song, in a low
voice. The first stanza he managed very respectably; but, before he had
half finished the second, both the air and words seemed strangely
deranged; his head sank upon his breast, and he snored repeatedly,
instead of singing; he made an effort to arouse himself, uttered that
ejaculation common to all ranks and both sexes of Spaniards, but which
is too gross to be written, and, stretching himself at full length upon
the floor, was sound asleep in an instant. His three comrades were not
slow in following his example; wrapped in their _ponchos_, or South
American cloaks, they "took ground" around the fire, and were soon
asleep.

The sentry at the door, after two or three times stumbling over his own
feet, and as often dropping his musket out of his arms from mere
drowsiness, came into the guard-room to light a segar, which he
eventually accomplished at the imminent risk of pitching head foremost
into the fire. He resumed his station at the door, but was too sleepy
to walk on his post; he seated himself on the stone bench, the butt of
his musket resting upon the ground between his feet, and the muzzle
leaning against his shoulder; the lighted segar dropped from his mouth;
he leaned his head against the door-post, extended his feet and legs,
and in a few seconds his nasal organ, in strains like the nocturnal song
of one of our largest bull-frogs, gave notice that he was "absent
without leave" to the land of Nod.

Isabella now arose, and, motioning to the prisoners to remain quiet,
tripped backwards and forwards through the guard-room, to ascertain that
the soldiers were asleep. Having satisfied herself on this point, she
beckoned to them to follow her. In passing through the guard-room,
Morton as well as his companions felt a strong inclination to possess
themselves of the arms of the guard, which were piled in one corner.
Their fair guide however entreated them to desist; but one of the
seamen, in attempting, to use his own language, to "unship" one of the
bayonets, made so much noise with the muskets, as alarmed himself as
well as the rest; and the whole party sallied out unarmed.

Near the door they were met by another person, that alarmed the
prisoners exceedingly; but it proved to be Transita, Isabella's Mexican
servant, loaded with two "sizeable" bundles; for the annals of
elopements, from the earliest ages down to the present day, have not
recorded a single instance of a lady's running away from "cruel
parents" or cross husband without the accompaniment of a sufficient
quantity of baggage; nay, I have heard of one young lady who
accomplished a most perilous descent from her chamber window into the
arms of an expecting lover, and returned for her favorite lap-dog, at
the most imminent risk of detection and close imprisonment at the hands
of her "ugly, old, cross papa."

Transita, like her mistress, was dressed in boy's clothes, a disguise
that so effectually imposed upon the four sailors, that in a whispered
conversation between them it it was decided that the two "young
gentlemen" were the sons of the merchant to whom the cargo had been
sold. Keeping close to the side of the plaza, the whole party advanced
swiftly and silently without meeting a human being, and turned down the
open space where Don Gregorio had met his horrid fate. As the dreadful
scene rose to Isabella's memory, she could not repress a faint
exclamation of horror, and hurried with increased speed down the narrow
pathway on the edge of the cliff, to escape from the hideous
recollection. Just as they were emerging from their narrow and crooked
path into the street that terminated in the blind passage through the
wood, they were startled by the regular, heavy tread of soldiers,
apparently approaching them. It was a small patrol of a corporal and
three men from the barrack at the water side, but who were not connected
with the guard in the plaza. As they drew nigh, the party stood
perfectly still, except that one of the tars drew forth his jack-knife,
and another picked up a moderate-sized stone, observing in a whisper
that if they came too nigh, he would try which was the hardest, a
Spaniard's scull or that "ground nut," as he designated the stone which
he held in his hand. The soldiers, however, passed on without seeing
them, and in a few seconds their footsteps became inaudible.




CHAPTER XVIII.

    "She is won: we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
    They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

                                        MARMION.


The liberated seamen once more pushed forward, no longer guided by
Isabella, who had got as far as her knowledge of the place extended, and
were again, in nautical language, "brought up all standing." A priest,
returning from the death-bed of one of his flock, saw them gliding along
silently and in "Indian file." His head being full of good wine, death,
the devil, &c., and the place enjoying moreover the reputation of being
haunted, his imagination magnified and multiplied the seven fugitives
into a legion of devils, with horns, tails, and fiery breath complete.
Under this impression he began to thunder forth a Latin form of
exorcism: "In nomine sanctæ Trinitatis et purissimæ Virginis, exorcizo
vos! Apage, Satana! Vade retro, diabole!" &c. &c. in such abominably bad
Latin, that a devil or a ghost of the least classical taste would have
incontinently fled to the Red Sea, without waiting to hear another
syllable of the formula that sent him thither. The bawling of the priest
awoke several of the neighbors, and sundry night-capped heads were
protruded from the windows of the nearest houses; but the proprietors,
catching a glimpse of the objects of the priest's alarm, and not caring
to play bo-peep with the devil, closed and barred their casements, and
betook them to their beads.

The party glided on in the same swift, silent pace; but the hindmost
sailor, irritated by the continued vociferation of the priest, and
stumbling at that moment over the carcase of a dog that had given up the
ghost a few hours before, seized it by the hind leg, and flung it at the
holy man with such true aim and force, as brought him to the ground.
Luckily the monk swooned away with terror at this unexpected buffeting
in the flesh from Satan, and his noise was consequently stopped. The
next moment the party plunged into the bushy path, and were instantly
lost to the view of the inhabitants, if indeed any were looking after
them.

Advancing swiftly along the rough path, and losing their way two or
three times, they at length heard the light dash of the surf upon the
sand-beach; but, to their no small alarm, they also plainly heard, from
time to time, the low hum of voices, though their language was not
distinguishable. Fearing the worst, Morton advanced alone to
reconnoitre, notwithstanding Isabella's earnest entreaties not to be
left alone. Moving slowly and cautiously towards the point whence
proceeded the voices, the soft sand rendering his footsteps inaudible,
he approached as near as he durst, and listened for some minutes with
the most fixed attention, to catch a word that would indicate the
character and nation of the speakers, but in vain; and he was on the
point of returning to his friends in despair, when he plainly
distinguished the exclamation, "d----n my eyes," uttered by some one at
no great distance from where he stood. No Sontag or Malibran ever
warbled a note that contained a hundredth part of the sweetness and
music that was comprised in that simple and unsophisticated ejaculation;
it decided in an instant, and beyond all possibility of doubt, who and
what was the speaker. His joy was inconceivable, and he could scarce
refrain from giving vent to it in a loud shout. Returning immediately,
he communicated the joyful intelligence to his friends; and the whole
party, with light hearts and rapid steps, advanced towards the beach.
Just as they stepped from the shade and covert of the bushes, a pistol,
the bright barrel of which glittered in the star-light, was presented to
Morton's breast; and the holder thereof, in a grum voice, commanded him
to "stand!"

"Heave to, and let's overhaul your papers," continued the speaker, who
was immediately recognized, by the voice, as Jones, the boatswain of the
Albatross.

"Hush, hush, don't speak so loud; 'tis I, 'tis Morton--Jones, is that
you, my old boy?"

"God bless you, Mr. Morton, it is you indeed--I thought 'twas a raft of
them thundering sojers bearing down upon us. I've been lying to, under
the lee of this 'ere bush, for this two hours or more, waiting for you."

The parleying between their "look-out ship," as they called Jones, and
the strangers, attracted the whole party of the Albatross to the spot;
and Morton, to his surprise, found himself and his companions surrounded
by at least thirty well-armed men. His friend Walker, the second mate of
the ship, advanced, and testifying the sincerest affection, welcomed him
once more to liberty and the company of his shipmates. Kind greetings
and hearty welcomes were given by the seamen, in their blunt,
straight-forward way, and not a few jokes were passed upon the four
liberated tars by their light-hearted messmates.

"I say, Tom Wentworth, how much _grub_ did the Don Degos allow you? a
rat a-piece, or the hind leg of a jackass among the four of you?"

"Ay," said another, "and Sundays they had a jackass's head stewed in a
lantern, and stuffed with sogers' coats."

"Yes," said a third, "and green-hide soup three times a week."

"Seasoned with brick-dust and pig-weeds," said a fourth, "by way of red
pepper and cabbages."

"Well, never mind what they've had," said old Tom Jones, interposing,
"one thing's sartain, they ha'n't had any steam, that's jist as clear
as mud."

"You're idle there, old Tom Pipes; we've had as much good wine as we
could lay our sides to. But howsomever, if you've got any white-eye in
that black betty that you're rousing out of your pea-jacket pocket, I
don't much care if I take a drop."

"Poor children!" said the boatswain, "they've been kept this whole week
in a snug, warm _caliboose_, and they'll catch cold if they're out in
the night air."

So saying, he offered his junk-bottle of New England to Morton, who
declined it, and it was then passed to his four fellow-prisoners, who
took a long, deliberate, steady aim at the stars through it in
succession.

By this time the two whale-boats and yawls, that constituted the
flotilla of the shore party, were hauled as close to the beach as the
shoalness of the water would permit, and the embarkation commenced;
Morton carrying the fair Isabella in his arms, and depositing her in the
stern-sheets of the swiftest of the boats, in which he found ample store
of boat-cloaks and pea-jackets to protect her from the night air and
heavy dews. Her attendant, Transita, was about following her mistress,
when Tom Jones, who had no suspicion that there were more than one
"young gentleman" concerned in effecting the escape of his shipmates,
or about taking passage in the ship, laid his huge hand upon her
shoulder, exclaiming,

"Halloa! shipmate, where are you bound to, if the wind stands?"

"What are you about there, Jones?" shouted Morton from the boat,
"she--he, I mean, is to go off with us. Take him through the surf."

"Ay, ay, sir; come, Mr. She--he, just get upon my shoulders, if you
please; come, bear a hand before it snows--there, stow yourself away in
the starn-sheets--there, that's the time of day--shove her bows off,
Sam, and jump aboard--so, pull round your larboard oars--now give way
together."

Their oars being all muffled, they glided, silently and swiftly, towards
the offing, edging away a little to the south, or farther side of the
bay, to avoid the possibility of observation from the shore. They had
proceeded swiftly for some minutes, and had passed the point on which
the battery stands without speaking a word, when the silence was broken
by Morton,--

"Where is the ship, Jones? do you see any thing of her?"

The boatswain desisted rowing, and, holding his head down as near the
water as possible, looked long and anxiously to the western horizon.

"I don't see her," said he, "unless that's her, here on our starboard
bow."

"No, that's the rock."

By this time the other boats had come up, and all agreed that nothing
could be seen of the ship. After a brief consultation, it was decided
that their safest plan was to continue rowing to the westward, and that
they would be sure of seeing the ship at day-break; whereas if daylight
found them in the bay, they would most assuredly be seen, and chased by
the boats from the shore.

Isabella, whom most powerful excitement had supported from the prison to
the point of embarkation, had since then, reclining on the stern-sheets
of the boat, and supported by her lover's arms, been in a state of
stupor and silence; her thoughts were in a complete whirl, almost
amounting to delirium; the kind and soothing voice of Morton she
scarcely heard, and she only awoke to consciousness during the short
deliberation just mentioned. In an agony of terror at the doubt and
uncertainty that she heard expressed around her, she uttered the wildest
exclamations, and struggled with Morton and her attendant, who
endeavored in vain to pacify and sooth her. With unspeakable anguish
Morton witnessed, for half an hour, the confusion of her intellects,
till at length she sunk down exhausted, and wept bitterly. At this
moment a voice from the yawl that had gone ahead, shouted, "There she
is!"

"Where, where?" asked a dozen eager voices.

"Right ahead."

Every eye was instantly turned in that direction, and, to their
unutterable joy, they saw, at the distance of about a mile, the light of
a signal-lantern. Every oar was most vigorously plied, and in a few
minutes the headmost boat was greeted with "Boat ahoy!" from Captain
Williams--"Albatross," was the reply, and the boats dashed up to the lee
gangway and fore-chains.

Isabella, whose buoyant spirit had recovered its spring when she saw the
danger was over, was assisted up the side by her lover and two or three
of the most careful men. As soon as Morton stepped upon deck, he was
caught in the arms of his commander, who was inarticulate from emotion.
Morton, quietly disengaging himself, presented his fair deliverer. The
old seaman folded her in his arms, and kissing her cheek, drew her arm
under his, and conducted her to the cabin, whither they were followed by
Morton.

Under the superintendence of the second mate and boatswain the boats
were now hoisted up and secured; the ship wore with her head to the
westward, all sails set, and hot coffee, beef, bread, cheese, &c.
provided liberally for the "shore party;" after which the watch was set,
the deck "relieved" by Captain Williams, and the Albatross, with her
white wings expanded, flew rapidly on her course before a fresh easterly
breeze.




CHAPTER XIX.

     Master, let me take you a button hole lower; do you not see, Pompey
     is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? you will lose your
     reputation.

                                        LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST.


The rising sun the next day beheld the good ship Albatross, under the
impulse of a very gentle breeze, gliding towards the west; the Andes,
over which the sun was darting his levelled beams, were distinctly
visible. The flapping of the topsails against their masts, the pattering
of the reef-points, and the smoothness of the water, indicated an
approaching calm.

"Go aloft, one of you," said Morton, who was the officer of the morning
watch, "go aloft, and see if you can make out any sail astern of us
under the land."

The seaman who obeyed this order, after _roosting_ for fifteen or twenty
minutes on the main royal yard, came down and reported that he could see
nothing; but that the sun shone so brightly on the water that, if any
thing was within the range of sight, the reflection of the sunbeams
would render it invisible. Morton could not repress a vague
apprehension that there was some vessel in chace, though it would have
sorely puzzled him to give his whys and wherefores. After having pointed
his glass for the fiftieth time towards the eastern horizon, without
seeing any thing but smooth water and the dim, blue, cloudy-looking
mountains, the man at the wheel notified him that it was "eight bells,"
or eight o'clock. Having gone below to compare the watch in the cabin
with the half-hour glass in the binnacle, he returned to the
quarter-deck and called out,

"Strike the bell eight--call the watch."

The bell was struck, and one of the watch on deck, after a preliminary
thumping with the large end of a handspike upon the forecastle,
vociferated down the fore scuttle,

"All the starboard watch, ahoy! Rouse out there, starbowlines--show a
leg or an arm!"

This last phrase designates the manner in which "turning out" of a
hammock is accomplished, which hammock, a person unacquainted with such
kind of sleeping accommodations, would never dream contained a live man,
until one or the other of the aforementioned limbs was protruded. In a
few minutes the wheel was relieved, and the crew were clustering around
the galley with their tin pots, joking, and laughing, and shouting
"scaldings!" as they hurried forward with their respective allowances of
hot coffee.

In the mean time the quarter-deck received an accession of company. Mr.
Walker came up the companion-way, gaping and rubbing his eyes, and
carrying his jacket on his arm. With a short "good morning!" to Morton
he threw his jacket upon the hen-coop, proceeded to the lee gangway,
drew a bucket of water, and commenced his morning's ablutions. Captain
Williams next came on deck, and immediately looked round upon the
weather with a troubled and disappointed air, for it was now almost
quite a calm. Mr. Edwards and Dr. Bolton followed him--not that they had
any business on deck, or cared much about leaving the cabin or their
respective state-rooms oftener than was necessary; but it is not, or was
not, in my sea-going days, esteemed genteel for passengers, or any other
"idlers," to stay below while the steward was occupied with the mystery
of arranging the breakfast-table. Lastly, and to the surprise of the
whole company, Isabella, as lovely as the morning, and dressed in the
proper habiliments of her sex, ascended the companion-ladder. She was
greeted with paternal affection by the veteran commander, and with
sparkling eyes and a silent pressure of the hand by Morton. She received
and replied to their congratulations and compliments with crimsoned
cheeks and downcast eyes. The supercargo and doctor, who had, with most
commendable delicacy, kept out of the way the night before, were now
introduced, and after a few minutes of general conversation, the
steward informed Captain Williams that breakfast was ready.

The whole party, with the exception of Mr. Walker, who was now in his
turn "officer of the deck," accordingly descended to the cabin, where
they found the table covered with coffee and tea, _minus_ milk; cold
salt beef, cut into slices, of a thickness that would horrify a whole
community of fashionable ladies and gentlemen, allowing that so
exceedingly vulgar an article of "provent" as salt beef did not
previously throw them into hysterics as soon as presented to their eyes,
but which slices seemed to have been cut with the prospective intention
of filling up that vacuum that Nature, as far as I am acquainted with
her, seems to abhor more cordially than any other vacuum whatever; that
void space, I mean, that is apt to be found in a healthy human stomach
after a twelve-hour's fast. There was also a broiled chicken for the
express use and behoof of their fair messmate; fried pork and potatoes;
a large dish of fried fish, the produce of a fishing excursion the
afternoon preceding; another of boiled eggs; a third composed of
pilot-bread, soaked in hot water, toasted, and buttered; biscuit,
butter, and cheese.

Breakfast proceeded much as sea breakfasts generally do--that is to say,
the company ate heartily: even Isabella, who had sufficient excuse for
low spirits and want of appetite, yielded to the demands of hunger the
most unromantic, and, in vulgar language, "spoilt the looks" of the
broiled fowl before her. The meal was drawing to a close, when the
steward came below with information, that Mr. Walker had seen, from the
main topmast head, with his glass, a square-rigged vessel right astern,
and coming up with a fresh breeze. Captain Williams and Morton exchanged
looks of intelligence, but said nothing; their fair passenger,
fortunately, understood not a word of the steward's intelligence; and
the merchant and doctor were of that happy and enviable description of
men, who, when they sit down to a well-furnished table, seem to adopt,
with a slight variation, the sentiment of the poet,

    "Far from my thoughts, vain world, begone,
    And let my '_eating_' hours alone,"

The two seamen, however anxious they might feel, finished their
breakfast very composedly, and went on deck without hurry; Morton
recommending to his fair deliverer to remain below for some time. In
half an hour the chace was distinctly visible from the quarter-deck, and
from the peculiar darkness of the water in that direction, it was
evident that she had a good breeze. It was then that conjectures as to
the character of the stranger were numerous, wild, and contradictory; no
one thought for an instant that it was the Venganza, because they had
seen her the day before with her fore-yard down and sent on shore--the
idea that there might possibly be found a spare spar in the dock-yard
that would answer _pro tem_. never, for an instant, presenting itself
to their minds. A few minutes more, however, convinced them that it was
indeed that "terrible ship with a terrible name;" and orders were
immediately given to prepare for action as silently as possible. These
orders were obeyed with joyous alacrity. A feeling of romantic gratitude
to their lovely passenger was accompanied by a most chivalrous
determination to "do or die" in her defence, and these sentiments
pervaded the whole ship's company. Added to this exciting cause was that
natural propensity to strife that Flora Mac Ivor says all men feel when
placed in opposition to each other, or, as Titus Livius Patavinus hath
it, they were "suopte ingenio feroces."

The clews of the topsails were lashed to the lower yard-arms; the
topsail-yards slung with iron chains; round, grape, and cannister shot
got up from the hold; the boarding-pikes taken down from the racks and
laid at hand; the arm-chests unlocked, and their murderous contents of
muskets, bayonets, pistols, cutlasses, and tomahawks or pole-axes
produced; powder-horns and flasks, for priming the guns, filled and
placed in readiness; rammers, sponges, and priming-wires distributed to
the guns; preventer braces rove, and stoppers for the rigging sent up
into the tops, or placed in different parts of the deck. The carpenter
got ready his shot-plugs and top-maul; the armorer examined the locks of
the fire-arms; the gunner paraded his wads, and opened the magazine
beneath the cabin floor. Morton, to whom Captain Williams had deputed
the charge of the two females, descended to the steerage, attended by
two or three seamen, and hauled all the spare sails out of the
sail-room, with which he formed a small hollow coil in the cable tier.
These sails, being formed into long hard rolls and placed upon the
cables, formed a rampart that, from its non-elasticity, would more
effectually check the progress of a round shot than a greater thickness
of oak plank.

Having finished the castle, he could not forbear passing into the cabin
to see its future occupant. Isabella received him with a blush and a
smile.

"What is the meaning of all this noise and bustle overhead?" said she.

"There is a strange ship in sight," said Morton, after a pause, "and we
are almost sure that she has hostile intentions towards us." Isabella
became pale as marble. "It is, in short, the man-of-war that was in St.
Blas when we left there."

"Good God!" said the young lady, clasping her hands in agony, "what will
become of us?"

"Do not allow yourself to be overcome with causeless alarm; we shall, if
possible, run away; but if not, we must resort to certain arguments to
convince her commander and crew of the impropriety and rudeness of their
interfering in an affair that does not concern them."

"But if we are taken, what will become of you?"

"I suspect, dearest Isabella, that you will search in vain through the
Albatross to find a single person, man or boy, that is prepared to
admit the probability, nay, even the possibility, of such a conclusion.
We are nominally inferior, but in reality superior, to our antagonist.
In the mean time, I have been preparing a place of safety for you and
Transita, where it is next to impossible that you should be in the way
of danger."

"But you," said she, looking at him with tearful eyes.

"My life, my sweet girl, is in the hands of Him that gave it; and to His
watchful care and boundless goodness I cheerfully and confidingly commit
it."

"But if you are taken--such a thing is at least possible."

"Such an event is, as you say, possible. In that case, your Mexican
friends must be content to work their revenge upon my dead body, for I
am determined that the living Charles Morton shall never become an
object for Spanish vengeance to exhaust its ingenuity upon. But I must
leave you for the present. I will come below again in a few minutes, to
conduct you to your citadel."




CHAPTER XX.

    Some writers make all ladies purloined,
    And knights pursuing like a whirlwind;
    But those, that write in rhyme, still make
    The one verse for the other's sake.

                                        HUDIBRAS.


Morton and his companions had left the prison a few minutes past ten
o'clock. It was nearly one when an officer, who was up and passing
through the plaza for certain good reasons best known to himself,
noticed, as he approached the guard-house, that there was an unusual
degree of stillness about it; no sentry challenged as he drew near, and
indeed there seemed to be none on post. Surprised at this, he entered
the porch, or as it is called in New England, the "_pye_-azza," where he
found the sentry seated, as before described, and snoring most lustily.
Him he attempted to awaken by a very summary process; namely, by
tumbling him from his seat upon the ground; but so stupified was the
fellow with the drugged wine that he had drank, that after uttering
certain unintelligible growlings, he again slept and snored. Passing
into the interior, the officer found the corporal and his "brave
compeers" as sound asleep and as motionless as the enchanted
inhabitants of a fairy castle. After bestowing upon them several sound
and hearty kicks, without producing any vivifying effects, he perceived
that the door of the inner room, or prison, was wide open, and the room
itself as empty as--an author's pockets. On further examination he found
a basket, the remains of food, three or four empty bottles and
drinking-cups, one or two full bottles, and a phial containing a small
quantity of dark-colored liquid, with the qualities of which he did not
think it prudent to make himself acquainted by experiment upon his own
person; not possessing a particle of the philosophical courage and zeal
of Sir Humphrey Davy, who gulped down poisonous gases till it became a
matter of astonishment and mystery to his friends, as well as himself,
how he contrived to find his way back into this world, after having
strolled so far beyond its limits. The phial, however ignorant he was of
the nature of its contents, explained, in connection with the empty
bottles, the cause of the death-like sleep of the guard.

After deliberating for an extremely short space of time (for when a man
has nobody near to bother him with advice, he makes up his mind with
incredible despatch), he concluded that there would be no danger in
leaving the guard-house just as he found it, for sundry reasons; in the
first place, the present circumstances had probably existed some hours;
secondly, as there was nothing there for the guard to watch over but
the empty bottles, &c. said guard might as well sleep as be awake;
thirdly--but by this time he was almost at his excellency's door, and it
was hardly worth while to follow any farther a line of reasons that
threatened to stretch out to the crack of day, if not of doom. After
abundance of vociferating and thumping, he succeeded in rousing the
governor from his slumbers, and bringing him to the window, night-capped
and night-gowned "proper," as the heralds say. His excellency was
thunderstruck at the intelligence, and in a few minutes his household
was in motion.

His two daughters had no sooner learned that the prisoners had escaped,
than they hastened to the chamber of their cousin, Isabella, to
communicate the joyful intelligence. To their surprise and consternation
no cousin Isabella was to be found; the chamber was in its usual state,
but it was immediately obvious that the bed had not been pressed that
night by its lovely occupant; one or two of the drawers of a bureau, in
which she had formerly kept sundry articles of clothing, were open and
empty; nor was this all; the doors of a little book-case, that stood
upon a table in one corner of the room, and that formerly contained
thirty or forty volumes, were also open, and every volume was gone.

This circumstance, which at once convinced the two young ladies that
their cousin was decidedly deranged in mind, should have been mentioned
and explained in its proper place. A fortnight previous to Morton's
capture, Isabella consented to put herself under his protection, and
having so done, retired to her chamber to deliberate upon the how and
the what she should take with her. Her jewels, that had been left her by
her mother, or given her by her uncle and other relatives, were
numerous, costly, and easily portable; but jewels, though they ornament
beauty, do not keep it warm. Her drawers were next opened, and sundry
indispensable articles of dress were selected and set aside; but while
she hesitated between certain elegant and valuable dresses and others
more ordinary, that her natural good sense told her were more
appropriate, her eyes rested upon a volume of Milton opened at the
title-page, on which was written her mother's name by that beloved
parent's hand: "My dear mother's books! how could I think of leaving
them behind, or any thing that was ever hers!" She closed her drawers
after having carelessly thrown aside, for "sea-service," the first
dresses that came to hand--her whole thoughts occupied in devising means
to save what, just at that moment, seemed of vastly superior
consequence. The books, by Morton's advice, were subsequently carried,
two or three at a time, to Juanita's house, and thence by him conveyed
carefully on board the Albatross, and safely deposited in his chest.
Having settled this affair so much to her satisfaction, she used the
same means to transport the greater part of her most valuable clothes to
the same place, till the unfortunate capture of her lover made it
necessary to encumber herself and attendant with the remainder, upon the
night of her elopement and their escape.

I pride myself not a little in being particular in an affair of such
delicacy. Some writers wake their heroines at dead of night, drag them,
half drest, out of a third story chamber window, lead them through a
thousand perils by flood, fire, and field, till the mere matter-of-fact,
common sense reader is convinced that the poor girls had neither a dry
thread nor a clean one upon their persons; and no "change of raiment" so
much as hinted at. I scorn so ungallant an action as to compel _my_
heroine to make a voyage nearly round the world, or within thirty
degrees of longitude of it, in such a draggle-tailed and sluttish
condition; so that you see, madam, I have made this digression for the
sole purpose of setting your mind at ease on the score of Isabella's
gowns, frocks, hose, and those other articles of the "inner temple"
whose names I dare not even think of, or whose existence it would be
impolite and indelicate to hint at.

The alarming fact of his niece's absence the governor fortunately did
not learn till morning, or rather till late in the forenoon, he having
gone towards the guard-house before his daughters visited their cousin's
chamber. When arrived there, Don Gaspar was convinced, by examination of
the phial, that the soldiers were under the influence of a most
powerful opiate; and, furthermore, that the prisoners had obtained that
opiate and the wine that it was administered in, from some person out of
the prison who had access to them; and he immediately vowed vengeance
the most signal and summary against the traitor, offering, at the same
time, a large reward for his, her, or their apprehension. Alas, poor
man! he did not know that the traitor was of his own kith and kin, his
own beloved niece.

His next movement was to send an officer at full gallop to the Venganza,
or rather to the landing place, commanding her captain to despatch boats
to the American ship in the outer harbor, and search for the fugitives.
Don Diego Pinto, the commander of the Venganza, who had obtained a spare
fore-yard from the dock-yard, rigged and swayed it aloft the night that
he came in, instantly concluded that the escape had been effected by the
American captain, and that the Albatross had immediately sailed.
Impressed with this idea, he weighed anchor forthwith, and, favored by a
fresh breeze from the land, was convinced by eight o'clock that morning
that his conjecture was right.

How the governor bore the news of his niece's elopement we have never
been able precisely to discover, but have understood vaguely that he
displayed infinitely more warm and tender feelings than he had
heretofore had credit for.




CHAPTER XXL.

    There was an ancient sage philosopher
    That had read Alexander Ross over,
    And swore the world, as he could prove,
    Was made of fighting and of love.
    Just so romances are, for what else
    Is in them all but love and battles?
    O' the first of these we've no great matter
    To treat of, but a world o' the latter.

                                        HUDIBRAS.


The breeze that brought the Venganza within sight, was in a very short
time felt likewise by the Albatross; but it gradually hauled to the
southward, thereby giving the American the advantage of the wind, or
weather-gage. Still it was evident that the Spaniard was the superior
sailer, and that he might, if he chose, soon be alongside; but he seemed
to be aware that preparations had been made by the Yankee commander and
his crew to give him a very warm reception. Accordingly he shortened
sail and tacked, with the hope of getting to windward; but in this he
was foiled by the Albatross tacking also, and, in spite of all the
Spaniard's manoeuvring, retaining the advantage that the wind gave
her.

The crew of the American were all this time quietly leaning on their
guns, and watching the evolutions of their antagonist; and commenting
upon every movement with as much composure as though their own ship was
lying at anchor in a friendly port, and they were only looking at some
ship beating into harbor.

"That old rattle-trap of a gardy coaster works tolerably well, only
she's a month of Sundays swinging her head-yards, and getting her
fore-tack down," said one of the seamen.

"You may well say that," said another, "and the same of his main-yard
and main-tack, and jib-sheet to boot."

"Well, you can't blame him for not being in a hurry," said the
boatswain, "he knows what he'll get when he hooks on to the old
Albatross. When once we get fairly hold on him, I don't ask but half an
hour to do his business for him: fifteen minutes to knock away some of
his sticks, and send him off flanking, and fifteen minutes more to
secure the guns and clear the decks up; and by that time it will be
eight bells, and then we'll have our dinner and our grog, and be all
ready to make sail on our course again."

"There she goes again! helm's a-tiller, jib-sheet's a-rope, and round
she comes!"

"Ready about!" shouted Captain Williams, and the crew flew to their
stations.

Both vessels were now heading to the westward; the Venganza, by superior
sailing and frequent tacking, had gained considerably to windward; and
it was evident that she would soon be alongside, though to leeward. In
this situation of affairs, Captain Williams, seeing that flight was out
of the question, called all hands aft.

"Lie aft there all of you, hurry aft there, men, at once," repeated the
boatswain, adding, in a lower tone, "the old man's going to read us a
page out of Hamilton Moore."

The men being all assembled upon the quarter-deck, Captain Williams
advanced, and thus addressed them:

"Men, you see that fellow yonder that is following on after us, and know
what he wants. He sails rather better than we do, and I don't see how
we're going to get rid of him; and if we don't want to be plagued with
him any longer, why we must fight him, that's all. I don't suppose that
you will fight any the quicker or better for my making a speech to you,
but I want you should know which leg you stand upon. We are nothing but
a merchantman, and I don't suppose you are bound by the ship's articles
to fight unless you see fit, but whether we fight or not, our fate is
the same; if we are such d--d fools as to let that garlic-eating
scarecrow make a prize of us without firing a gun, we shall be sent to
the mines for life; but if we will only stand by each other, I'll be
bail that we give him something that he can't eat. Now if you are all
agreeable to that, say so, and give three cheers for the honor of the
Yankee flag, and we'll fix his flint for him before the cook's dinner is
ready."

This pertinent harangue was received with three roaring cheers, which
were distinctly heard by the Spaniards, who were thereby convinced that
the Americans were not the sort of men to be frightened into a
surrender; and they, the Spaniards that is, "smelled the battle" by no
means "afar off," but, on the contrary, rather nearer their noses than
was altogether agreeable.

By way of commentary to his speech, the Yankee commander called to the
steward to "bring up the case bottle, &c. and the molasses jug,"
observing, that; "although he knew that the Albatrosses didn't require
any Dutch courage, the sun was over the fore-yard, and it was grog time
in all Christian countries."

Jones, who by virtue of his office was always foremost at "splicing the
main-brace," having compounded a tolerably stiff tumbler of blackstrap,
turned to his shipmates, prefacing with the invariable commencement of a
sailor's toast,

"_Here's hoping_ that every shot we fire will make work for the doctor
or carpenter."

This pithy "sentiment," as it would be called at the present day, was
received with vast applause; and, having finished their grog,
interspersed with similar toasts, the men quietly returned to their
quarters.

During this scene Morton descended to the cabin and conducted his fair
charge to her Gibraltar in the steerage. Isabella, weeping bitterly,
clung to him, and Morton's heart, softened by the tears of one whom he
loved so tenderly, seemed divested of all the elasticity of young hope
and courage, and he began to regard the _possibility_ of his being
killed or taken prisoner as a _probability_; but he resisted the
fast-coming weakness, and, pressing her to his bosom, tore himself from
her arms, and hurried upon deck. Isabella was attended and consoled in
her retirement by her faithful servant Transita, her "fidus Achates."

I hope my fair and also my classical readers will pardon me for giving
the masculine title and name of a hero of antiquity to a lady's maid;
but I could think of no other. History has immortalized Achates as a
single friend, and Pylades and Orestes, and Damon and Pythias, as pairs
of attached and inseparable friends; but, alas! neither ancient nor
modern history has recorded the name of a single female, whose
friendship was sufficiently ardent and pure to become proverbial. Even
the Helena and Hermia of Shakspeare, whose friendship is so touchingly
described by one of them, were not only imaginary creations of the
poet's brain; but, as if to prove the impossibility of friendship
existing between two ladies, he has made them actually pull caps in the
very first act of the play in which they are introduced.

By this time the Venganza had ranged up within speaking distance, and
hailed:

"Send the prisoners that you brought from San Blas on board my ship."

"We have no prisoners here--we are all freemen," was the answer.

"Send your first officer and the four men that were with him on board
this ship, or I will fire into you."

"Well, I guess, then, you'll have to fire; for I can't spare either
officer or men," replied Captain Williams drily.

"I repeat, for the last time, give up those men, or I will fire."

"Come after them yourself, then," roared back the irritated Yankee,
losing all patience.

"D--n my buttons!" said Jones, from the midship or "slaughter-house"
gun, "he'd better come aboard starn foremost, then, so's to be all ready
for a run."

Don Diego Pinto, the commander of the Venganza, although a brave man,
and one who had "done the state some service," by no means liked the
aspect of affairs. He had had frequent opportunities of seeing the crew
of the Albatross, and knew that, with the exception of Captain Williams,
there was not a man on board over forty years of age; that they were all
stout, active, powerful men, warmly attached to their officers, and
living in perfect harmony with each other; that her guns were of uniform
calibre--namely, nine pounders, and consequently no confusion could
take place respecting cartridges or shot: on the other hand, he was a
Spaniard, the first lieutenant a Portuguese; and the second a Frenchman;
of three different nations, and three different dispositions, they never
agreed: he knew, too, that his crew was composed of a few Spaniards, a
few Portuguese, and the rest Chilians, Peruvians, and Mexicans, negroes,
mulattoes, and Indians, quarrelling and stabbing from morning till
night; that his guns were of all sorts, from twelve to four pounders
inclusive; that, although he numbered eighty on board his ship, thirty
well-armed men from the Albatross would take his ship from him in less
than five minutes, if they were thrown upon his deck during the action.
Under all these circumstances, he felt somewhat loth to commence
operations, till, after considerable time had elapsed since Captain
Williams's last angry reply, he took heart of grace, and opened an
irregular and harmless fire.

"Thank God! he has spoken at last," said old Jones; "I was afraid he
meant to keep us standing here, like mum-chance in a picture-shop, till
seven bells in the afternoon with our hands in our pockets."

"Keep fast every thing," shouted the American Captain; "don't fire yet."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the captains of the guns with perfect composure.

"Jemmy Bush," said the boatswain to one of his gun's crew, as he
squinted along its side, "I'll bet you as much as you and I can drink,
the first port we get into, that I hit that fellow's foremast the first
shot."

"The devil thank you," said the tar; "'tisn't twenty yards from the
muzzle of your gun."

"Starboard your helm--keep her away a little," said Captain Williams;
"stand by--now's your time--fire!--luff! luff again!"

"Luff it is, sir," said the helmsman very deliberately.

The double-shotted broadside of the Albatross was followed by three
thundering cheers. Her fire, although not exactly a raking one, had
crossed the Spaniard's deck very obliquely, and the smoke blowing off
immediately, gave the Americans an opportunity of seeing some of the
effects of their shot. Two of the Venganza's foremost guns had been
dismounted, and all the men stationed at them killed or wounded; there
were huge gaps in her bulwarks; several of her weather fore-shrouds were
shot away; and about ten feet from the deck there appeared upon the side
of her foremast a large hole, caused by two or more shot striking nearly
in the same place, and tearing off large splinters. There was silence
for a few seconds, interrupted only, on board the Albatross, by the
punching and thumping of rammers, as her crew were busily reloading
their guns.

Mr. Walker, with the doctor and supercargo, all capital shots,
constituted the marines or small-arm men of the ship. The doctor was
not, however, unmindful of his medical duties; for he had prepared a
place between decks, down the fore hatchway, where he had paraded his
medicine-chest, instruments, and dressings; and, leaving them in charge
of the cook, who acted as surgeon's mate _pro tem._, he went on deck
with his rifle, and was seen on the quarter-deck, with a case of pocket
instruments tucked into the bosom of his jacket, loading, and firing,
and bringing down a Spaniard at every discharge; for, like Apollo of
old, who is represented as a good shot as well as a good doctor, he
could send an enemy to his long home with a rifle-ball, or physic a
friend with such success as might thereafter ensue:

    "Mighty he was at both of these,
    And styled of war as well as peace."

It has never been our lot to take part in a naval engagement as an
agent, and we are thankful for it; for we are convinced, upon strong
internal evidence, of our cowardice; but we have been present at sundry
such actions, at a safe distance, as a spectator; and, from what we saw,
we can venture to assure our readers, that, when two ships or fleets are
exchanging their iron salutations, whether at long shot or close
quarters, there is nothing peculiarly interesting to a mere spectator in
the scene.

Isabella and her attendant had, all this time, remained quiet, but
dreadfully frightened as soon as the firing commenced. Finding, after
the lapse of fifteen or twenty minutes, that no danger had as yet come
near them, they became more composed; the former most earnestly and
sincerely imploring Divine protection, both for herself and for those
who were exposed to danger for her sake. Still she could not avoid
listening eagerly to every voice that was to be heard in the short
intervals of comparative stillness.

The action had been now carried on between the two vessels nearly half
an hour, at a distance of about forty yards, when a twelve-pound shot
passed through the Albatross's larboard quarter, and, encountering the
steward's pantry in its progress, made such a fearful jingling with the
crockery ware, tin coffee-pots, and earthen jugs, that, overcome with
extreme terror, both females left their city of refuge, and ran hastily
up the after-hatchway ladder, and presented themselves on the
quarter-deck. Just as they reached the deck, a shower of grape-shot flew
whistling across the ship, one of which, passing through the
hammock-nettings, struck a seaman in the forehead, and scattered his
blood and brains in all directions. He reeled backwards two or three
yards, and fell dead at Isabella's feet. Captain Williams immediately
drew her away from the ghastly spectacle, and gave orders to carry the
body forward on the other side of the deck. He then attempted to prevail
upon her to go below; but she was too much terrified to listen to him,
nor did she seem to understand him. After a minute or two, she became
more composed, and eagerly inquired for Morton. Being informed that he
was on the forecastle and unhurt, and doing his duty like a brave man
and a good seaman, she expressed the most lively gratitude to Heaven,
and permitted Captain Williams to conduct her to the starboard side,
which was farthest from the enemy, and in great measure sheltered from
shot by the long-boat and by the spare spars, &c. stowed amidships.

By this time the crew of the Venganza, as is often the case with cowards
when driven to desperation, had become perfectly frantic, and also
mutinous. With furious execrations, they compelled Captain Pinto to make
a desperate attempt to board the American ship, and decide the action.
For this purpose the helm of the guarda-costa was put hard down, and she
immediately ran on board the Albatross, her bowsprit passing over that
ship's larboard gangway, and coming in contact with the fore part of her
mainmast, to which it was instantly lashed firmly by Mr. Walker, Jones,
and two or three of the nearest seamen. In this state she was exposed to
a murderous raking fire of grape and cannister shot, from such of the
Albatross's guns as could be brought to bear upon her. Notwithstanding
this, the Spaniards mustered in considerable force upon and about the
heel of the bowsprit and cat-heads, armed with pistols, knives, and
cutlasses. The Americans caught up their ten-foot boarding-pikes, and
presented an impenetrable hedge of steel points; but, although his crew
was fearfully thinned by a well directed discharge of canister-shot and
bags of musket-balls from the two midship guns of the Albatross, Captain
Pinto, at the head of about fifty men, the sole remnant of the original
eighty, persisted in his attempt to board; and five or six of the most
desperate actually "effected a lodgement," as militarists call it, in
the main shrouds, where they were instantaneously transfixed by the long
pikes of the Yankees, and fell shrieking into the water. At this moment
the doctor, who had hitherto been engaged in dressing the hurts of the
few wounded that thought proper to visit him in his temporary cockpit,
hearing the bustle, caught up his rifle, and hastened to the _other_
field of his usefulness.

"Here, doctor, doctor!" shouted old Jones as soon as he saw him, "here's
a chance for you! here's the Spanish skipper looking as savage as a
Yankee meat-axe--Gad! if you don't bear a hand, he'll cut his own
throats, for want of some of ours."

"Where, where?" said the knight of the pillbox, skipping upon a gun.

"There, that notomy-looking thief with a sword two fathom long in his
fist. Give him a blue pill, doctor; he looks as though he was billy-us."

The doctor raised his rifle--and Captain Diego Pinto, commander in his
Most Catholic Majesty's navy, slept with his fathers.

A heavier sea than ordinary, a moment after this, lifted the Albatross,
and forced her ahead: the bowsprit of her antagonist snapped close to
the knight-heads; but, being held by the lashing, the guarda-costa was
towed along, till a blow or two of a pole-axe severed the rope that
connected the two vessels, and she dropped astern. The desperate and
frantic courage of the Spaniards died with their commander; their first
lieutenant had received a slight splinter-wound in the foot at the first
fire of the Albatross, in consequence of which he went below, and had
not been seen on deck since; the second lieutenant's orders were not
attended to; and all was anarchy and confusion on board. A few minutes
after she drifted from the Albatross, her foremast, already badly
crippled and no longer supported by the bowsprit, fell over the larboard
bow, dragging down with it the main topmast. At this the Yankees
cheered. The Albatross soon after wore ship, and stood to the westward.
Upon mustering the crew, it was ascertained that but one man was killed,
and eight more or less wounded; her sails and rigging were much cut up;
and the services of all hands were immediately put in requisition, to
repair damages, and put the ship in condition to proceed on her voyage.

The first intelligence of the victory was conveyed to Isabella by Morton
himself. As he approached her place of refuge with his head bound up
with a bloody handkerchief, having received a slight wound in the left
temple from a splinter, she uttered a scream of terror, and it was long
before she could be convinced that the wound was trifling. As lady
passengers are of no great use on deck when the ship's sails and rigging
are hanging about her ears, she was conducted once more below.

In the mean time Jones, as he trudged backwards and forwards, thought he
saw something amiss about the galley, which he entered, and a moment
after backed out, exclaiming,

"D--n my two-and-twenty top-lights! if this here doesn't beat all my
going down east!"

"What's the matter, Jones? what are you swearing about now?"

"Swearing? it's enough to make a minister pull off his wig, and rip
right out in the middle of his sarmont!"

"Well, what _is_ the matter?"

"Matter? why d--n my old shoes, Captain Williams, here is one of that
bloody Don Dego's shot gone right through the galley-door, and through
the side of the big copper, and knocked all the beef and hot water
galley-west. By the piper that played before Moses when the children of
Israel danced through the wilderness, I never see such a thing since I
first went to sea, and I've seen shot fired afore to-day. And here's my
two sweet potatoes," he continued, groping in the coppers with the
cook's ladle, "that I popped in just as that fellow come alongside, all
knocked to pieces. Here he is, d--n his eyes!" holding out a
twelve-pound shot in his ladle; "here's the thundering thief that's
spoilt our dinner, Captain Williams, stowed away in the bottom of the
copper, as snug as a flea in a soger's blanket. The curse of the twelve
geese that eat the grass off o' Solomon's grave upon you!" With these
words he threw the shot overboard, and turned to Captain Williams with a
most rueful countenance.

"Well, Jones, it's devilish unlucky I own, but I guess we can make out a
dinner for to-day, and perhaps the armorer can patch it so that it will
answer till we can get to Canton,"

"I hope so, sir," said Jones, with a deep sigh; "for if we don't have
our reg'lar-cooked grub, we'll all get the scurvy, as sure as the
devil's in London; though for that matter, I've been pretty much all
over Lunnun, and never see nor heard nothin' on him, unless so be he's
in the Tower, or the king's palace, or some one of them thunderin' great
churches; and I've seen about all there was to be seen there, unless it
may be them three places. But in my way of thinking, a ship might a d--d
sight better go to sea without a medicine-chist, than without her proper
cooking-utensils and coppers; because why? if a man don't get his
reg'lar grub, his bowels gets out o' trim, and he gets belly-us, as our
doctor calls it."

"Well, well, if we can't do any better, we'll burn out the big
pitch-pot, and make a shift with that till we arrive in China."

"Aye, that indeed, so we can. By the hook-block! how our two snow-balls
of cooks will swear! Well, thank God for every thing but bread, and
that we get o' the baker." So saying, he rolled off towards the
forecastle, to superintend the knotting of one of the fore shrouds, that
had been shot away in the engagement.




CHAPTER XXII.

    But now, t' observe romantic method,
    Let bloody steel awhile be sheathed:
    And all those harsh and rugged sounds
    Of bastinadoes, cuts, and wounds,
    Exchanged to Love's more gentle style,
    To let our reader breathe awhile.

                                        HUDIBRAS.


The damages done on board the Albatross were all repaired before sunset;
the dead body of the poor fellow that was killed was committed to its
watery tomb with becoming solemnity, and by the next morning the
north-east trade-wind was blowing fresh and steady, and, as it usually
does in both the Atlantic and Pacific, from almost due east. The ship,
with booms rigged out and studding-sails set on both sides, dashed
swiftly towards the west, rolling almost gunwales under at every motion,
and initiating the two females into all the mysteries of sea-sickness.
However, in two or three days the sea, that is always heaviest near the
land, subsided into the long, regular undulation peculiar to the ocean,
properly so called, and Isabella recovered from her sea-sickness, and,
by keeping as much as possible in the open air, and walking the deck
almost constantly, assisted at first by the arm of some one of the
gentlemen, soon got her _sea-legs_ on.

I would substitute some other phrase, if, by so doing, I could make
myself intelligible; but as the case is, it is impossible to mince the
matter--fashion has not yet, thank God, invaded the "Dictionary of
Sea-Terms;" and ladies, when off soundings, must still be content to
have "legs" like other folks--on shore they may vote it indecent to have
even "ankles," for aught I care.

Captain Williams, having neither missionaries nor tracts on board, did
not stop at the Sandwich Islands, nor did he even pass within sight of
them; but holding on his course, on the fortieth day after leaving St.
Blas, he saw Cape Espiritu Santo, the southern extremity of the island
of Lugonia, or Lucon, one of the Philippine Islands. Passing through the
Straits of Samar, he changed his course to the northward and westward,
and steered for Macao, where he arrived six days afterwards.

The passage across the Pacific Ocean afforded the two lovers numerous
moonlight quarter-deck walks. Morton, as first officer, had the first
watch, from eight to twelve, every other night, and on these occasions
was invariably accompanied by his fair bride elect, who, wrapped in a
cloak or great coat, walked the deck leaning upon his arm; or, seated
upon the hen-coop, listened with interest to his descriptions of
American, or, more properly, New England, scenery, manners, and history;
or gazed upon that lovely object, a moon-lit ocean in fine weather.

There is something peculiarly soothing in this scene--something in the
soft light of the heavens, and in the dark and dimly-seen ocean, that
induces a pleasing melancholy, a pensive tranquillity; the low, gentle
murmuring of the waves calms the mind, tranquillizes its angry passions
and boisterous feelings, and brings on those dreamy reveries that
contemplative people are so fond of indulging. It is then, when the
"grim-visaged" ocean has "smoothed his wrinkled front,"--when the winds
of heaven are hushed to gentle airs, and the cloudless moon looks down
upon the scene, tipping the crests of the lazy waves with silver,--that
the memory and imagination of the wanderer are busy; it is then that the
scenes of childhood and of manhood--the forms of friends, more loved
because sundered from them by thousands of miles of water and land--all
rise before him in original freshness and beauty.

Isabella also proposed to her lover to accompany him in his middle
watch--that is, from midnight to four in the morning--but I grieve to
say, that she proved worse on these occasions than an old man-of-war's
man, not only "standing two calls," but, in fact, not "turning out" at
all. She made some amends, however, by coming on deck at four o'clock
frequently, to witness that splendid spectacle, sunrise at sea, which is
particularly glorious between the tropics, not only on account of the
extreme purity of the air, but from the shortness of the morning
twilight; the sun rushing so suddenly from his salt water couch, as to
come "within one" of catching the stars napping.

On arriving at Macao, Isabella was doomed to undergo another separation
from her beloved Morton, whose qualities of head and heart she had had
sufficient opportunities of studying and appreciating during the voyage
from Mexico, and in the daily and familiar intercourse of a
merchant-ship's cabin. As the Chinese eschew the society of foreign
women even more rigorously than the children of Israel did that of
"strange" ones--and, taking this notion of theirs "by and large" in
connection with their laws, and manners, and tastes, we think they are
perfectly right--Isabella was consequently landed at Macao, and placed
in the care of a venerable and highly respectable Portuguese family, and
after having arranged the means of as regular a correspondence as could
be carried on in that country, where there are not quite so many
mail-coaches and post-offices as with us, she saw with tearful eyes the
whale-boat "shove off," containing in its stern-sheets Morton, a Chinese
custom-house mandarin, two Chinese pigs, a hind-quarter of Chinese beef,
a Chinese river pilot, and sundry baskets of Chinese fowls and
vegetables.

Macao is beautifully situated upon a small island, near the mouth of the
river Tigris, commanding a fine view towards the sea, and was, when I
had the fortune to visit it, very clean and neat in its streets and the
external condition of its houses--a circumstance the more remarkable, as
its inhabitants are Portuguese and Chinese, two of the dirtiest people
on the face of the earth: to these, of course, numerous other nations
and parts of nations may be added; and among them, a very large
proportion of the aristocratic and fastidious English, who prefer
spitting in their pocket-handkerchiefs instead of the fire-place or the
street; all the Spaniards; all the French in their houses, and food, and
furniture; all the Dutch in their persons; all the Russians in every
thing; nearly all the Irish and Scotch; and a very respectable modicum
of my beloved countrymen, the Yankees, together with the greater part of
the natives of the southern states, who, being nursed, brought up, and
associating with negro slaves from the cradle to the grave, _smell_
dirty, if they are not.

After an absence of about six weeks, Isabella one morning received a
letter from Canton, informing her that the ship would commence "working"
down the river that day, or, according to the date of the letter, two
days previous, and that she would be off Macao on the second or third
day from said date. Accordingly she made all necessary preparations for
another and much longer voyage, and after dinner walked down to the
water-side, accompanied by her Portuguese friends. They had been on the
look-out for nearly half an hour, when a large ship hove in sight,
evidently from Canton.

As she approached, steering apparently direct for the town, she suddenly
tacked and stood out to sea, or directly away from it. The party had
already made out with their glasses that the ship was indeed the
Albatross; but poor Isabella, who had seen, on her passage from Mexico,
nothing but fair winds, was exceedingly distressed by this last
unintelligible manoeuvre. Were they actually going away without
her?--the thought was agony. The ship, that was but four miles off when
first seen, was now at least eight, and her hull was fast sinking below
the line of direct vision. Her companions, who had hitherto been
occupied in silently admiring that most splendid effort of human genius,
a ship under full sail, were suddenly startled by an exclamation
betokening extreme anguish from their lovely friend--"They have gone!
they have gone!" sobbed the unhappy girl. The most affectionate
kindness, and the most earnest assurances that the apparently
unaccountable movement of the ship was no more than was absolutely
necessary from the direction of the wind, were equally lost upon
her--she "would not be comforted." In a few minutes the Albatross hove
in stays (you need not hold your fan to your face, madam), and seemed to
approach the shore as rapidly as she had before receded from it.

"Look up, my dear child," said M. de Silva; "see, your ship is flying
in, and will soon be safely at anchor."

Isabella raised her head from the shoulder of Madam de Silva, and
applying the glass to her tear-dimmed eye, was convinced of the folly of
her grief. They sat down to watch the gallant ship as she rapidly
approached the "roads." Before the sun was hid behind the hills in the
rear of the town, they had the pleasure of seeing the Albatross commence
reducing her sails; presently the topsails were clewed up, and the jib
hauled down, the ship "rounded to," her anchor let go, and in a moment
the men were seen clustering upon the lower and topsail yards. A minute
or two afterwards Isabella plainly distinguished, by the help of her
glass, the well-known whale-boat sweeping round the ship's stern, and
rowing swiftly towards the shore. A deep blush announced that the glass
had also informed her who was, in midshipman's language, the "sitter,"
the person in the stern-sheets, to wit, and she immediately proposed
returning to the house. Morton, on landing, informed her that the ship
would get under weigh the next morning at day-break, and that it would
be most advisable, as the ship could approach no nearer than five miles
to the town when beating out of the bay, to go on board as soon as
possible that evening, to which she, of course, assented, and, having
taken an affectionate leave of her Macao friends, who insisted upon
supplying her with "sea-stores" enough to fit out half a dozen sail of
Liverpool packets, she accompanied Morton to the boat.

The next morning at day-break she was startled from her slumbers by the
clanking of the windlass-pauls, the voices of the officers, and the
tramp of feet over her head; and, in a few minutes after, the rushing of
the water under the cabin windows, and the "heeling" of the ship,
announced that they were under weigh, and dashing out to sea with a
fresh breeze. The passage home was, like most passages _from_ the East
Indies and China, rather monotonous from the long continuance of fair
winds. Isabella gazed with delight upon the unrivalled scenery of the
Straits of Sunda, where spring, summer, and autumn reign perpetually in
a sort of triumvirate; the same field, nay, in some cases, the same
tree, presenting, at one and the same time, blossoms, green fruit, and
ripe fruit: infancy, maturity, and decay. She saw, too, in the night the
volcano on the Island of Bourbon, afterwards False Cape and Table
Mountain, but not the Flying Dutchman, the weather being unfortunately
too fine to induce him to put to sea. Next came St. Helena, since so
famous as the cage and then the tomb of that most furious and terrible
of wild beasts, a great conqueror. Near the fifth degree of north
latitude, the south-east trade-wind died away, and was succeeded by four
days of light, variable, "baffling" winds, when the north-east trade set
in strong from about east-by-north, its usual point near the equator,
and they once more flew joyously on their north-west course. A few
"regular built" _Mudian_ (i. e. Bermudan) squalls served to vary the
scene, and rendered the strong, steady gale from south-west, that
succeeded them, peculiarly acceptable.

It was just sunrise one lovely morning, near the last of July, when
Morton, who had the morning watch, directed one of the men to go aloft,
and "take a look round." The seaman had gotten no higher than the
fore-topsail-yard, when he shouted "land ho!" at the very top of his
throat.

"Where away?"

"Broad on the larboard bow."

"What does it look like?"

"Low, white sand-beach."

"Cape Cod, by the mortal man that made horn spoons and poop lanterns!"
said Jones, springing into the fore-rigging.

As the sun climbed higher in the heavens, the liquid blue plain appeared
thickly studded with the white sails of vessels of all descriptions, and
all steering to the westward. There was the majestic ship from India or
Liverpool; brigs from the Mediterranean, from Portugal, South America,
and the West Indies; schooners from the southern states, with flour, and
from Maine, with boards; packet sloops from New York, Philadelphia, &c.;
chebacco-boats from fishing on "Georgis;" and schooner-rigged
pilot-boats, darting about under jib and mainsail, and boarding every
vessel that carried the star-spangled "jack" at her
fore-topgallant-mast head. Nothing could surpass the tranquil life of
the scene: more than a hundred vessels, of all descriptions, were
gradually but rapidly approaching a common focal point, the narrow
entrance of Boston harbor, under the impulse of a fresh breeze from the
south-east, that had not as yet brought forward its accompanying fogs and
haze. The Albatross, her thin masts clothed from trucks to deck with
snow-white canvass, dashed rapidly up the bay, the jack flying at her
fore-royal-mast head, passing the low-decked molasses-loaded brigs from
the West Indies, or the faster sailing topsail-schooners from the
Chesapeake, inquiring the news, and furnishing matter for speculation to
their crews.

On the passage from China to Boston, Morton expressed some impatience,
particularly during the prevalence of calms or head winds; but Isabella,
like all young ladies similarly situated, was perfectly composed. Why is
it, dear dissemblers, that you always _seem_ to enter the holy state
with either reluctance or lukewarm indifference? when every body, with
half a head, _knows_ that matrimony is the "hoc erat in votis," the
grand object of all your wishes. Strange! that the laws of female
modesty should decree it absolute indelicacy for a girl candidly to show
her preference for a particular individual before the rest of his sex.
Strange! that modern mothers should uniformly caution their daughters
against marrying for love, as the most dangerous rock in their voyage
through life. Solomon could find but four strange things in his day, and
those four I do not care to repeat; if he had lived in these times, he
might find a hundred and fifty connected with a single matrimonial
engagement.

The Albatross arrived at Long Wharf early in the afternoon; and Morton,
having deposited his dear messmate and watchmate in the house of a
widowed sister of his father, went in search of a messenger to convey a
letter to his father; for, unless I am much misinformed, the mail only
went at that time once a week to New Bedford.

Though not "so terrible old" as I might be, I recollect when a journey
from Boston to Providence, a distance _then_ of forty-five miles,
occupied three days: namely, the traveller, leaving Boston in the
morning, arrived at Deadham about sunset, and "put up" at the "Gay
tavern," or the "Widow Woodward's;" the second _hitch_ carried him to
Attleborough; and the third evening saw him snugly seated in the
bar-room of the "Old Coffee House," Providence. But a journey to New
York, as it was generally supposed that the traveller must "go down to
the sea in ships" part of the way, that is, through Long Island Sound in
a sloop, was one of the most momentous events of a long life. The
traveller "concluded" upon it in the fall, occupied the entire winter
and the months of March and April in collecting his dues, paying his
debts, setting his house in order, and making his will, before the
weather was settled.

Two Sundays before starting, a note was "put up" in his parish
meeting-house, "desiring prayers," and early on Monday morning, to be
sure of reaching Providence before the next Sabbath, he took a weeping
farewell of his wife and family, and turned his horse's head towards the
"neck," and his bereaved household betook them to their chambers,
"sorrowing as those that had no hope" of seeing him again.

Morton's messenger, spurred on by the hopes of high pay, made such
diligence that he actually arrived at Taunton the first night, the
selectmen of which fair town were so indignant at what they conceived
barbarous and unparalleled hard driving, that they talked of prosecuting
the man; but it appearing from the report of a court of inquiry of
ostlers that the horse did not seem distressed by his day's work, but
had fallen to work upon his oats and hay, they "withdrew their motion."

Old Mr. Morton received the news of his son's arrival with the greatest
joy. He sat out the next day in his own carriage, drawn by two noble bay
horses, and arrived without "let or hindrance" in Boston. He expected to
find Isabella a girl possessed of some considerable beauty, just
sufficient to captivate a seaman who for months had seen no women more
attractive than the squaws of the North-West Coast or South Sea
Islands; and sailors, under such circumstances, are exceedingly
susceptible, _me ipso testi_; he had made up his mind, too, that she
could be no other than ignorant and ill-bred withal. When, then, her
exquisite beauty, her lovely, retiring modesty of manner, free alike
from affectation or sheepishness, her expressive and eloquent features,
all burst upon his view at once, his heart was taken "by storm,"--he
clasped her to his bosom, and felt towards her in an instant as warm
affection as though she was indeed his own child. The banns of matrimony
were published immediately, after the manner of the descendants of the
pilgrim roundheads, and the marriage solemnized as soon as the legal
time had elapsed; and the happy party took up their abode in old Mr.
Morton's house.

Morton's female friends and acquaintance at first seemed amazingly shy
of the new-comer; but at a "numerous and highly respectable" petticoated
caucus, a forlorn hope, after repeated declensions of the honor, was
chosen to make the first "call." Their report was so very favorable that
the newly-married couple were, in less than a fortnight, rather annoyed
by too much company.

On the passage from Mexico to China, and thence home, Isabella had, in
vulgar phrase, "taken a liking" to Jones, the boatswain, and formed,
what was probably conceived, at that time, the visionary plan of
breaking him from his intemperate habits. She communicated her scheme to
her husband shortly after their marriage, who most cheerfully coincided
in opinion with her. Jones was accordingly sent for, and regularly
installed in the family. The eloquent representations of Mrs. Morton,
and the promises of her husband and his father, had the wished-for
effect--the old tar consented to "give up grog," and did so, making
exceptions only in favor of the "glorious first of June," the
anniversary of Lord Howe's victory off Ushant, at which Jones was
present, the fourth of July, _'lection_ days, Thanksgiving days, and the
birth of Mrs. Morton's first child. This last event took place, by what
modern editors call a "singular coincidence," upon the first of June
ensuing; and Jones was sorely puzzled how to "keep up" both days, and,
in consequence, got very considerably "corned." It was, however, his
last offence; he gradually adopted the temperate habits of the family,
and continued in them to his death.

We have no farther particulars to communicate, except that Charles
Morton was taken into partnership by his father, and became wealthy, and
that his wife wrote a long and kind letter to her uncle, which was
forwarded by the captain of an outward-bound whaleman, who delivered it
into his own hands. The old Don did not answer it, however; and
Isabella, in whose heart other affections had taken root, was not,
perhaps, much grieved or indignant at his silence; the affection of her
husband, her children, and her friends, soon obliterated all melancholy
recollections.




                    *       *       *       *       *

                          THE PIRATE OF MASAFUERO.

                    *       *       *       *       *




                          THE PIRATE OF MASAFUERO.




CHAPTER I.

     _Gonzalo._ Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord, And were the
     king of it, what would I do?

     _Sebastian._ 'Scape getting drunk, for want of wine.

                                        TEMPEST.


In the Pacific Ocean, and within two days' sail of the coast of Chili,
lies the little island of Masafuero, or, as the word is generally
divided by the Spaniards who discovered it, Mas-a-fuero--that is, the
farthest--to distinguish it from Juan Fernandez, which lies nearer the
main land, and in sight of Masafuero. Juan Fernandez is well known to
all the reading community as having once been the temporary residence of
Alexander Selkirk, the original, or, as grammarians would call it, the
_root_, of De Foe's bewitching romance of Robinson Crusoe.

Masafuero is, on the contrary, remarkable for nothing more, that I know
of, than being very difficult of access, and overrun with wild goats. It
is situated in the latitude of thirty-three degrees and forty-five
minutes, south, and eighty degrees and thirty-six minutes, west
longitude; for I love to be particular in all such cases--not that I
suppose my readers care a pin if I had told them it was in the
south-west horn of the new moon; but all authors, when they put pen to
paper, seem actuated by the kind and neighborly spirit of the sagacious
Dogberry--namely, to "bestow all their tediousness" upon their readers;
and I do not know that I have any prescriptive right--I am sure I have
no intention--to depart from so well-worn a track, or to fly in the face
of so many illustrious precedents.

This island is covered, from the water's edge to the summit, with trees,
and it is only for the sake of wood that it is ever visited by our
whalemen, who fell the trees on the brink of steep cliffs, and tumble
them down, by which process they are broken up into sufficiently short
pieces to render their carriage convenient. There are evident traces of
most tremendous earthquakes visible throughout the island; huge fissures
and rents from the tops of the highest hills to unknown and unexplorable
depths, vast scattered masses of rock that have been shaken down from
the cliffs, and many other similar appearances, announce that the most
terrific convulsions of nature have rendered Masafuero a very unquiet
residence, even to the poor goats, at different times. In its external
appearance, and when seen at some distance, it bears considerable
resemblance to the celebrated Isle of St. Helena, and is, like it,
exceeding precipitous, and has but one approachable, and not always
accessible, landing-place. Of this last trait in its character I can
speak from experience and most feelingly, having visited the island in
the year 1821, in a small brig, with the intention of getting off nine
men, who had been left there some time previous for the purpose of
collecting seal-skins, with which the island abounds, as well as with
goats. Our attempt was rendered fruitless by the violence of the wind,
which, for the time it lasted, exceeded any thing I had ever seen,
except a _typhon_ in the China seas, and _one_ north-wester off
Nantucket shoals.

Some of the men, whom I afterwards saw, informed me that they had,
during their abode there, planted sundry garden seeds, such as beans,
pumpkin, squash, and onion seeds; but this item of intelligence I look
upon to be somewhat apocryphal; at any rate, I would not recommend to
any one, who may chance to visit said island, to save his stomach for
any pumpkin pies or baked beans he may obtain from it. There is
undoubtedly fertile soil enough for a garden--but then the goats.

The island also enjoys the reputation of having once been the rendezvous
of a gang of pirates, as a house, that has stood untenanted for any
length of time, is sure to be peopled with ghosts. People seem to think
it a pity that a tenement should remain unoccupied, so, out of sheer
compassion for the proprietor, they stock it with unearthly tenants from
roof to cellar, or like--for, now I am in the humor for comparisons, I
might as well go on--it was like a man who keeps his business to himself
and troubles nobody; his neighbors, knowing nothing about his
occupations and habits, take it for granted that they are both bad and
"contrary to the peace of the commonwealth."

Masafuero had, however, tolerably strong claims to the title of a "den
of thieves;" for there could be no doubt that, during the stormy times
that took place when South America shook off the Spanish yoke and put on
fifty worse ones--when there was a revolution once a week, and murder
and rapine every hour--many of the human vultures that flocked to the
prey, from Europe and this country, made this little island a place of
deposit for their ill-gotten wealth, and a rendezvous and city of refuge
from the vengeance of some of the short-lived authorities. The
celebrated Benavidas, a sort of "free companion," was, as sailors say,
"in vogue," when I first visited the Pacific in 1821; and as he carried
on business both by land and water, there is no doubt that he
occasionally visited both Masafuero and Juan Fernandez.

But there were other "land rats and water rats" than Benavidas, who, it
may be interesting to know, died suddenly one day of strangulation, in
consequence of his cravat being tied too tight. Numbers of English and
American seamen, at the first breaking out of the revolution, who
happened to be on the spot, realised large sums by privateering, and by
striking certain sudden and bold strokes, _à la Buccanier_, upon the
rich Spanish towns and richer churches; and as "their sound went out
into all lands," others flocked to the Pacific for the same purpose. But
by this time the first agony was over: the new government, short-lived
and ephemeral as it was, enacted certain wholesome laws, which, as they
did not materially interfere with the political views of the parties
that successively kicked each other down stairs, were generally
permitted to stand. A navy was organised and plunder was legalised;
privateering was placed under restrictions; and, as none of these
butterfly republics were in existence long enough to take any further
steps towards paying their seamen and soldiers than promising to, said
seamen and soldiers very naturally betook themselves to their respective
elements to look for prey. I have often wondered that the problem of our
revolution was not followed by the same corollary. The two nations might
be differently constituted--they were not differently situated.

Many stories are related of the daring exploits of these freebooters,
both on the water and on the land; but there was generally a shade of
difference in favor of the former, on the score of both courage and
humanity; the "water rats" being almost exclusively English and
Americans, and possessing both qualities by nature so strongly
impressed, that they could never be entirely eradicated or smothered.
The land robbers, on the other hand, were as exclusively native
Chilenos, a mixture generally of Indian and Spaniard--a more detestable
amalgamation the earth does not produce--if the devil was to cross the
breed, it would rather improve it than otherwise. One of the most
formidable, most blood-thirsty, and most successful of these pirates
wound up his affairs not a great while before I arrived in the Pacific,
Jack Ketch being his administrator.




CHAPTER II.

    Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus and thus.

                                        OTHELLO.


James Longford was the eldest son of a merchant in the neighborhood of
New York, who furnished in his own conduct one of those very rare
instances of a mercantile man contented with what he has amassed, and
willing to retire to private life to enjoy it. 'Tis true that merchants
pretend to say, after having heaped up something like a million, that
they continue in business for the sake of the employment of time and
excitement of mind that it affords, and not for the lucre of gain; "sed
non ego credulus illis," or, in plain English, "they may tell that to
the marines, the sailors won't believe them." The thirst for gain
increases with its gratification, as I could quote more Latin to prove;
and not only does gratification increase the appetite, but it seems to
_pucker up_ the heart, and contract the muscles of the hand, for your
very rich man is almost invariably a very close and avaricious one,
except when making public donations to institutions already bursting
with wealth, when they know that their names and sums given will go the
rounds of the public prints under the head of "munificent donations."
How delicious is flattery, even when thrown down one's throat with a
shovel!

But they are stingy in another way, that brings with it its own
punishment--they starve themselves. I know of several of your half
million folks, not a thousand miles from where I now sit, whose table
does not cost them fifty cents a day, and that too with tolerably
numerous families. I was once ill-advised enough to dine with a
gentleman of this description, in a sister city, in consequence of his
repeated and pressing invitations. We had part of a fore-quarter of very
small mutton boiled, with a small modicum of potatoes; one man could
have eaten the whole. To be sure, I had a glass of "London particular"
Madeira after dinner, if it deserves the name, but as soon as I had done
I made my excuses--"indispensable business--obliged to go out of town,
&c." and fled to an eating-house, where I satisfied what Dan Homer
emphatically calls the "thumos edodes," the madness of appetite, with
something more to the purpose than lean mutton.

Mr. Longford was "none of them sort;"--he retired from business with
only fifty thousand dollars, but with a clear conscience, adjusted
books, and not a single cent of debt--he never refused his charity to
deserving objects, and never signed a subscription paper for their
relief,--he was never a member of a charitable society, and never
contributed a cent to the Missionary funds, whether for the Valley of
the Mississippi or the Island of Borneo, where there are nothing but
monkeys, or Malays as incapable of being christianized as the monkeys.
Had he lived at the present time, and in this section of the country, he
would have been prayed _for_ and prayed _at_, at least once a day, and
been, besides, occasionally held up in the pulpit as a specimen of total
depravity, and a child of perdition.

Yet, with all these defects, Mr. George Longford was a sincerely devout
man, and a most firm believer in the Christian religion,--from a
conviction of its truth, not merely because it was the fashion to
believe it, or because his fathers believed it before him,--and a
practical observer of its moral precepts. He read and studied the New
Testament, because it contained a compendium of all his every-day duties
as a rational and accountable being, and as a member of society, not
because it was a magazine of polemical divinity and abstruse doctrines.
The evening of such a man's life is calm and tranquil; his death is
indeed the death of the righteous.

James was this man's eldest son;--I cannot say, as novel writers
generally do, that "in him were centred the hopes and wishes of his fond
parents,"--for they were not--they looked for support and comfort in
their old age to their other children. James was a refractory and
disobedient child from the very cradle. It is ridiculous to say that all
men are born alike in dispositions and capacities; the great poet of
nature, from whom I have, as usual, taken my text, says no; and I would
sooner have a single line from him than folios of ingenious theories and
metaphysical arguments from the profoundest philosophers. I have not
much faith in innate ideas, but I confess that I have in innate
dispositions, both good and bad.

James Longford's disposition was most decidedly bad by nature--he was
constantly, even when a mere schoolboy, in mischief, and that, too, of a
kind that marked a malicious and cruel temper. His father in vain
exhausted kindness and severity, in the hope of subduing this most
unhappy temper; but neither the infliction of punishment, that he
deserved twenty times a day, nor the caresses of the tenderest parental
affection, appeared to have the least influence in mollifying his
stubborn and morose disposition--he seemed to be one of those whom St.
Paul characterizes, in that tremendous first chapter of the Epistle to
the Romans, as being "without natural affection." Notwithstanding all
these faults, he had naturally a strong mind and good talents; so that
by the time he had attained his eighteenth year he was, at one and the
same time, one of the most ungovernable and ill-tempered boys and best
scholars in Parson Crabtree's seminary of some fifty in number.

At this period his father placed him in the counting-room of a wealthy
mercantile house in the city of New-York. Here his good education and
natural quickness soon procured him the favorable notice of his
employers, while his constant and active duties seemed to have
smothered, at least for a time, his malicious temper. Before the
expiration of a year he had acquired the good will and confidence of the
merchants whom he served; but by this time the pleasures and temptations
of the "Commercial Emporium" had begun to attract his inexperienced
eyes, and his disposition seemed to have taken a new turn.

With all the stubborn wilfulness and unfeeling carelessness of
consequences that characterized his temper, he plunged into all manner
of vicious indulgences; but what seemed to attract him the most
irresistibly, and fix him the most firmly, was a fondness for gambling.
The "time-honored" black-legs of the billiard and roulette tables were,
however, an overmatch for an inexperienced lad of nineteen, and, as
might have been expected, he was soon stripped, thoroughly "cleaned
out." It was then that the idea of replenishing his pockets from the
counting-room trunk first presented itself to his mind, and, without
much hesitation or compunction of conscience, he took small sums from
time to time.

It is needless to trace his progress more minutely--he finished by
forging a check for a thousand dollars, which forgery was subsequently
detected.

Precisely the same "dull round" of vice is trodden, at least once a
week, by the same class of young men. The merchants' clerks are
certainly creatures of no imagination, or they would have struck out
some new way of going to the devil; they evidently have not a spark of
what an eminent Irish lawyer called "the poetry of wickedness;" they
uniformly begin with plundering the money drawer, and end with forging
checks.

Mr. Longford was advised of his son's guilt, and the affair was
compromised by his paying the amount purloined. In utter despair the
afflicted father placed his degenerate son on board an outward-bound
Indiaman, a mode of proceeding often resorted to prematurely, for it
generally does a boy's business if he is viciously inclined--a
merchantman's forecastle is not a school of morality. Sending a
refractory child to sea may be an excellent way of getting rid of him,
but it is at the same time the most expeditious mode of sending him to
the devil.

There is a great deal of talk about "godly captains;" but I never knew
one that was not an infernal tyrant, and a most accomplished scoundrel.
If you wish to cure a boy of a fondness for the sea, send him a good
long voyage with a godly captain, and I'll be bail that he comes home
as lean as a weazel, and most thoroughly disgusted at the very thoughts
of a ship. If you merely wish to get rid of him, send him to the coast
of Guinea on a trading voyage, or to that Golgotha, New Orleans; a godly
captain, by working him one half to death, and starving him the other,
will put it out of his power to trouble you any more in this world. The
Carmelites and other religious orders were once of opinion that the
devil could be flogged out of the flesh, and for that purpose wore a
couple of fathoms of two-inch rope about their loins: godly captains
think he can be worked out, and so, perhaps, he can; but generally, in
the two places that I have mentioned, he and the vital spark go out
together.

I do not know whether I ought to regard it as a fortunate or unfortunate
circumstance, that the first captain that I sailed with was a "ripper"
for swearing and drinking. He was a professed infidel, a first-rate
seaman, an excellent scholar, and took more care of the morals of his
crew than many of those who have prayers twice a day; and ten thousand
times more of their health, for he would not permit a man to expose
himself for two minutes to the sun or rain in Batavia, and in
consequence did not lose a man. He watched over my moral and physical
health with a degree of zeal and tenderness that I have never, for an
instant, experienced since, at the hands of those who call themselves my
"friends." Indeed, the severest scolding he ever gave me, and I
expected every moment he would knock me down in the street, was for
walking, one deliciously cool morning, from Weltwreden to Batavia, a
distance of four miles, when I had a carriage and two horses at my
disposal.

Peace to his ashes! I have lived to see the grave close in succession
over many of the few friends that I ever had. When I wandered about
London streets, barefoot and half-naked, in the dead of a hard winter,
just discharged from a hospital, and scarcely able to drag one foot
after the other, my situation was comparatively enviable. I had no
self-styled "friends" at my elbow, to mock me by talking about my
"talents!" I knew that if I did not "bear a hand," and ship myself off
_somewhere_, I should be taken up on the vagrant act, and sent to
Bridewell. Burns says,

    "The fear o' death's a hangman's whip,
        That hauds the wretch in order."

I should be loth to admit that the fear of Bridewell operated as a
stimulus upon my mind, for it did not often occur to me; but I longed to
enjoy once more

        "the glorious privilege
    Of being independent;"

and he, who is earning an honest livelihood by his own exertions, and
can shave with cold water, is, in my estimation, more truly independent
than he, whose father has bequeathed him half a million. Reader! you may
as well pardon this digression first as last, for it is ten chances to
one that you fall in with a whole fleet of them before you have sailed
through these pages. If I do not moralize as I go along, I shall not
have a chance to do it any where else.

As the afflicted father returned, with melancholy steps and slow,
towards his quiet home, he could not forbear feeling an emotion of
regret at the thought of having parted with his son in such a manner.
"Had I but placed him," he said to himself, "under the charge of the
commander of one of our men-of-war, he would necessarily have been under
such strict guardianship and discipline that his unfortunate habits
might be entirely broken up; but now I fear that the liberty he will be
allowed, or will take, in a merchant's ship, will be his ruin."

His home was more gloomy and sad that evening than it had ever been
before; for though satisfied in the main with his own conduct, and
hoping that the voyage would have most beneficial effects upon his son's
behavior and disposition, he regretted most bitterly the necessity of
the measure, and felt the keenest anxiety as to its results. That son
was destined never to return.

The ship in which he was embarked was driven much farther to the
westward than is usually the case with outward-bound Indiamen, and
encountered one of those tremendous gales of wind, known to seamen by
the local name of _pamperos_, from their blowing off the immense
_pampas_, or plains, that constitute a large portion of the province of
Buenos Ayres, or, as it is now called, the Argentine Republic. The ship
was dismasted, and with difficulty succeeded in reaching the harbor of
Buenos Ayres to refit.

The city of Buenos Ayres was at that time, and I believe it is not much
better now, a nest and rendezvous of pirates, that, under the cover of
the republican flag, and the assumed character of men-of-war or
privateers, with forged commissions, committed the most barefaced and
abominable acts of piracy. The British cruisers, by capturing and
hanging a good number of them, struck a most wholesome terror into the
rest; but our government, with a fraternal affection for every mean and
insignificant patch of barren sand-beach that called itself a republic,
more worthy the _sans-culotterie_ of the French revolution, than
becoming a great and polished nation, permitted them to sell their
prizes and refit in our ports. Buenos Ayres was then a point towards
which all the scoundrels, and thieves, and murderers, of Europe and the
United States, were radiating as to a common centre.

Here, as might have been expected, Longford found plenty of congenial
companions to "whet his almost blunted purpose" of vicious propensity
and indulgence. In a drunken quarrel at the gaming-table, knives were
drawn, and Longford stabbed his antagonist-to the heart. Murders are so
exceedingly common in all the Spanish possessions and settlements in
America, that but seldom or never is any inquiry set on foot with regard
to them. The only _judicial_ formality consists in laying the dead
bodies on their backs, with a plate upon the breast of each to receive
the contributions of those who are disposed to assist in defraying the
expenses of burial. But the murdered person, in this case, was a man of
considerable consequence in the Buenos Ayrean government, having the
charge and management of certain public moneys, and in consequence, the
"authorities" thought it worth their while to ask a few questions about
his "taking off." Longford was well aware of these facts, and with
considerable difficulty and danger made his escape to the other side of
the river.

After remaining concealed for some time, he ventured down to Monte
Video, where he found the English brig Swan, bound round Cape Horn. Her
crew, deluded by the false and extravagant promises of privateering
captains and owners, had all deserted. In this dilemma the captain was
compelled to supply their places with such materials as could be picked
up in the streets of Monte Video, and which were as bad as bad could be.
Indeed, from the lawless state of all South America, it would have been
next to impossible to have procured, "for love or money," twenty good
and orderly seamen, from Darien to Patagonia. Among these vagabonds
Longford recognised many of his gaming-table acquaintances at Buenos
Ayres, who had left that city to get out of the way of certain
impertinent questions that the police had taken the liberty to ask
concerning the murder that has already been mentioned. These fellows had
imbibed a notion that seems to be an easily-besetting one among sailors
who enter on board a ship in the middle of her voyage, namely, that
there is money on board; which notion is but too often followed by an
exceedingly strong inclination to appropriate it to their own use and
behoof. Sailors seem to understand but confusedly the tenth commandment,
which forbids us to covet any thing that is our neighbor's.

The subject was discussed on the passage, the plan arranged, and the
unsuspecting officers, passengers, and two lads, apprentices to the
captain, murdered and thrown overboard. My readers would be, perhaps,
but little edified by a more circumstantial narrative. There is so
little variation in the details of shipwreck, acts of piracy, obituary
notices, ordinations, commencements, murders, suicides, mammoth turnips,
and Fourth of July celebrations, that printers would find it a great
saving of time, money, and labor, to have regular and approved forms of
each stereotyped, with blank spaces for names and dates.

This bloody deed was executed near the southern extremity of the then
half province and half republic of Chili; and the murderers, with
considerable difficulty, succeeded in running the ship between the
island of Santa Marie and the main, and anchoring near the town or city
of Aranco, which was then in the hands of Benavidas, above mentioned.

This sanguinary freebooter was then, under the auspices and with the
assistance of the equally sanguinary royal governor of Chili, Sanchez,
carrying on a most horrid and cruel war of extermination against the
republican inhabitants of the southern part of Chili. Into the hands of
this murderous ruffian and his ragamuffin gang the Swan was delivered;
but the villany of her piratical crew was soon to receive its just
punishment. Benavidas, who suspected them of having kept back no
trifling part of the plunder, with very little privacy and no formality,
shot them all but Longford, whom, for some unaccountable reason or
other, he spared.




CHAPTER III.

    _Orlando._ Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind.

    _Jaques._ Nay then, God be wi' you an you talk in blank verse.

                                        AS YOU LIKE IT.


Our scene must now change somewhat abruptly from the shores of the
Pacific to a very different part of this watery ball.

Great and manifold are the advantages that an author enjoys over his
readers; for, however anxious those readers may be to arrive at the end
of the story, they must either close the book with a "Pish!" or a
"Pshaw!" or condescend to follow him, and resignedly await his leisure.
He leads them where he pleases and at what pace he pleases; they must
follow him: they are like passengers on board a packet beating into port
with what sailors call "a good working breeze;" at one moment they seem
to have almost reached the anchorage, when suddenly the skipper shouts
"Helm's a-lee," the vessel heaves in stays and makes a long "stretch"
off, till the spires and roofs of the wished-for haven seem fading away
in the hazy distance.

The celebrated Hugh Peters, one of Cromwell's fanatical preachers,
explaining to his audience why God was forty years leading the children
of Israel through the wilderness, which was not more than forty days'
march across, made a circumflex with his finger upon his pulpit cushion,
and said, "he led them _crinkledum cum crankledum_," I do not intend
that my story shall make more "Virginia fence" than is absolutely
necessary; but that it shall proceed, like a law-suit, "with deliberate
speed."

In the vicinity of one of those beautiful villages that surround the
great commercial city of Bristol, and upon the banks of the lovely
Severn, stood the residence of a wealthy merchant. There was nothing
about the house or grounds that denoted the occupant or owner to be of a
mercantile turn; for there certainly is, very generally, something about
merchants' houses that is prim and starch--something precise and formal
about them, as though they had been planned according to the "Golden
Rule of Three," and executed with reference to the multiplication table.
It is a most melancholy fact, that the close, confined air of a
counting-room is deadly poison to a taste for the fine arts, and, but
too often, to every thing like liberality of feeling.

Effingham House was neither planned nor executed upon a grand or a mean
scale; there was nothing extravagant or penurious, vast or contracted,
about it; but it presented a happy combination of the comfortable, the
elegant, and the neat. Such houses are very common indeed throughout New
England; in the _old_ country there is a constant repetition of the
fable of the frog and the ox--the wealthy cit endeavoring to equal the
haughty splendors of the nobleman.

The villa that we describe fronted upon a large and beautiful lawn, that
gradually sloped towards the river, of which, and the lovely scenery
beyond it, it commanded an enchanting view, and was spotted with noble
oaks and elms, that appeared to have stood ever since the Conquest, or
might, perhaps, have overshadowed the legions of Agricola. A carriage
path, well gravelled and kept perfectly free from dirt and weeds, wound
around among these primeval trees, occasionally emerging from their
shade, as if to give the approaching stranger an opportunity to view
every part of the delightful landscape.

Along this path a horseman was seen riding, one lovely afternoon in
September. The air of the rider was that of a man to whom the scene was
perfectly familiar, but who seemed busy with thoughts that made him
inattentive to its beauties. His sunburnt countenance, and an
indescribable something in his whole appearance, that the experienced
eye of a member of the same fraternity only could discern, announced
that he was one of those that "followed the seas."

He alighted, and, giving his horse to a servant, ran up the steps of the
portico. A young lady, who was tending some flowers at a little
distance, hearing his footsteps, sprang towards him with sparkling eyes
and smiling countenance, exclaiming in a voice of most unequivocal
tenderness, "George!" The seaman caught her offered hand, and covered it
with kisses. The lady's cheek, brow, and throat were suffused with the
deepest and most lovely crimson: she gently struggled to release her
captive hand; but, finding that there was just one degree more force
exerted to retain it than she exercised to withdraw it, she prudently
gave up so hopeless a contest, and began very naturally to ask
questions.

"Why, when did you arrive?--how long have you been gone? Oh! it seems an
age since you left us--and how you are tanned!"

"I arrived this morning," at length answered the seaman; the mutual
delight of their meeting rendering him, for a time, as inarticulate as
it did her voluble; "and I have been gone six months. Time has stood
still with me, dearest Julia, I assure you; and besides, I have had such
a tedious passage home, that I began at last to think I was never to be
blessed with another fair wind. I need not ask how you have been during
that time," he continued, fixing his eyes upon her lovely countenance
with unutterable affection.

No woman was ever insensible to a compliment, even an implied one, to
her looks. Julia raised her liquid eyes to his with a blush and a smile
so frank and unreserved, that his six months' absence and tedious
homeward passage he would gladly endure twice ever again to meet.

There are moments in courtship--that part of it, I mean, where neither
party has as yet whispered love to each other, or bothered the old folks
about their consent; before, in short, it has become an "understood
thing" all over town--there are such moments, when the lady throws off
all reserve, and by a look, a smile, a blush, a half-articulate word,
repays her lover for months, if he is fool enough to court so long, of
prudish and affected shyness, past or future. These moments occur but
seldom, even in the most patriarchal courtships, and it is well that it
is so. Love is a fiery steed, and should always be ridden with a curb
bridle, both before and after marriage. (I am sorry that I cannot think
of a nautical metaphor, or I assure you, reader, that I would never have
gone into the stable to look for one.) The ancients, and their opinion
is decisive, ever held the "semi-reducta Venus" the most beautiful.

Leaving these turtles to bill and coo over a cup of tea, and to the
enjoyment of a lover's walk along the lovely banks of the Severn, we
will proceed to enlighten the reader as to who and what they are, and to
discuss sundry other equally important topics.

As the good ship Bristol Trader was lazily rolling along in a southerly
direction, with a light breeze and fine weather, and in the latitude of
about thirty-nine or forty north, she fell in with the wreck of a
schooner, of about eighty or ninety tons burthen, dismasted and
apparently half full of water, in which most unpleasant situation she
did not appear long to have been. The Bristol Trader hove to, and sent
her boat alongside, in hopes of obtaining something valuable from the
wreck, either cargo, or provisions, or rigging--if a wreck yields
nothing else, there is always plenty of fish around it. As the boat
approached, the attention of the crew was attracted by the appearance of
some person on board, who made the most animated and intelligible signs
to them to come alongside. The boat's crew redoubled their exertions,
and, upon coming on board, found a boy of about fourteen years, the only
living human being. The poor little fellow seemed almost exhausted with
fatigue and hunger; but being carried on board the ship and refreshed,
he informed his deliverers that his name was George Allerton--that the
schooner belonged to a port in New England, and was homeward bound from
Fayal with a quantity of wine and fruit--that she had been capsized, in
a sudden and violent squall, three days previous, when all the crew but
himself and one other were swept overboard--that she had righted after
cutting away the masts, but with a great deal of water in the hold, and
that the other man had accidentally fallen overboard, and was drowned.

It happened that the owner of the ship, Mr. Effingham, was on board. He
was going to Rio de Janeiro, partly on account of his health, but
chiefly to look after and secure a large amount of property belonging to
the firm of which he was senior partner, and which was jeopardised by
certain disturbances in Brazil. Like all passengers on board a ship, he
could find but little or nothing to do to pass away the time, and being
a married man and a father, his sympathies and good feelings were
powerfully excited and strongly attracted towards this "waif of the
sea," their new passenger. The boy, on the other hand, to a very
handsome face added a mild and amiable disposition, and, like all
New-England boys, an education vastly superior to boys of the same age
and standing in Great Britain. George's parents were respectable in some
sort--that is to say, their moral and religious characters were beyond
reproach, but their social reputation was very bad indeed--they were
poor. It has been said by an English traveller, that in all other
countries pleasure, rank, literary renown, &c. are the objects upon
which men place their affections; but, in the United States, the pursuit
of wealth is an imperious duty; and, of course, if a man fails in this
duty, his good name as a member of society soon becomes most deplorably
out at elbows.

Before the end of the voyage, young Allerton had made himself master of
Mr. Effingham's affections, and being of that happy age when all places
are nearly alike, provided they are comfortable, he readily consented to
remain with his protector, and was accordingly regularly inducted into
the old gentleman's family as a member of it. He was the playmate of Mr.
Effingham's daughter, six years younger than himself, and the companion
of her rambles abroad. The old man wished to take him into his
counting-room as a clerk, but the boy's predilection for the sea
frustrated that scheme, and the senior, after some reflection and
persuasion, yielded to it. Accordingly Master George, having served a
noviciate as apprentice, stepped over the intermediate state of "able
seaman," and became second mate, then first mate, and lastly captain, or
more properly master. During the whole of this time, he was employed in
the West India trade, in which most of the Bristol merchants are engaged
more extensively than in any other. He never came home from a voyage
without bringing some curiosity to little Julia,--as he continued to
call her, even after she had attained her eighteenth year,--and never
failed writing frequently to his parents, and sending them the whole or
a greater part of his wages: a line of conduct that raised him
incredibly in the old gentleman's favor, and made a deep impression upon
the young mind of Julia.

While George was passing through the different grades of his profession,
the young lady was advancing through the different grades of physical
and intellectual beauty and improvement. The "pretty child" that played
in her father's parlor, the "elegant girl of the boarding-school, had
now become a most lovely and accomplished young lady. She had lost her
mother when young, and the whole force of her filial affection had
centred upon her father. Brought up in unreserved intimacy with her
father's new _protégé_, she always regarded him as a brother, or rather
as her equal. She always anxiously awaited his return from sea, though
she did not, in her more youthful days, exactly understand why. When her
beauty brought wealth and rank to her feet, she could not avoid
comparing their possessors with the nautical absentee.

"Sir Reginald Bentley is not half so handsome a man as George; Lord
Dormington, although he has travelled over all Europe, and has besides a
seat in the House of Lords, is not, after all, half so well informed as
George; the Honorable Adolphus Fitz William dresses very expensively and
fashionably, but his clothes do not fit him so well as George's; and as
for that wine-swilling brute, Squire Foxley, I would not be condemned to
marry such a man for the world." So she dismissed them all, "cum multis
aliis."

On the other hand, her father had acquired as much affection for George
as for a son, and treated him as such; though he never dreamed that his
daughter might from his behavior be led one day to select him as a
husband. When his daughter rejected one wealthy or titled suitor after
another, he thought nothing strange of it; Sir Reginald was a gambler,
his lordship a fool, Fitz William a dandy, Foxley a sot, and so of the
rest; he only saw in her rejection of them proofs that she possessed
more good sense and prudence than he was generally willing to admit
that any of her sex possessed.

About two years before the events mentioned in the beginning of this
chapter, George had sailed on his first voyage as master of the ship
Hebe. He had been gone about five months, and Julia, with a feeling that
she did not pretend to understand or think to analyze, had been day
after day inquiring about him, when one evening her father informed her
that the Hebe had arrived safely in London. The joy that she felt and
expressed in the most lively manner, was damped by the farther
intelligence that he was to return to Barbadoes as soon as possible,
without visiting Effingham House. When she retired to her chamber, she
seated herself by the window, and seriously began to ask herself why she
felt such pleasure at hearing of his safe arrival, and why the
disappointment at not seeing him was so exceedingly painful. Her own
good sense answered the question, after a short reflection.

"It is, it must be love; I _do_ love him, and that most sincerely;" and
she gave way to a burst of irrepressible but soothing tears. "And why
should I not?" she reasoned, "is he not every thing that heart can
desire--handsome, well educated, and generous? and does not my father
love him as a son? But my father may not consent," she continued, again
weeping, "and I must endeavor to conquer an affection that has been
growing silently but rapidly for years; it is impossible, I know, but I
will make the attempt."

The old man, too, could not but notice the different effects of the two
items of intelligence he had that evening communicated. "What could ail
Julia when I told her that George was going to sea again without coming
home? the poor girl was ready to cry: he's a fine young fellow, that's
certain, and they've been brought up together like brother and sister;
so I suppose it is natural that she loves him like a brother: I have
half a mind to write to him to scamper across the country, and see us
for a couple of days; but I dare say he's too busy." With these
reflections the merchant dropped asleep, and dreamed of "Africa and
golden joys."

Upon Captain Allerton's subsequent return, Julia's determination to
avoid him and to stifle her attachment to him vanished, like most
resolutions of the kind that young ladies are in the habit of forming,
and she gave herself up to the illusions of that bewitching passion,
without knowing--and, when enjoying his society, certainly without
thinking--how it would end; and as for her father, he, good easy man,
had done thinking about it altogether: not that his affection for her
was in any wise abated, but his mind was taken up with something else
more engrossing, and, as perhaps he thought, more important, than
watching the actions of two young people.

After tea, Captain Allerton and Julia took a walk upon the banks of the
river, along a secluded green lane, that had often witnessed similar
rambles. After a long pause, during which each seemed too busy with
their own peculiar train of thinking to regard the silence of the other,
they stopped, as if by mutual consent.

"And so, Julia, your father, after losing so much money in South
America, is going there, to see if he can grapple any of it up from the
mines of Mexico, or wherever else it has sunk."

"He is certainly going to South America, but I never knew that he had
lost much money by his speculations there."

"Nor do I say that he has, but as every body else has, I do not see how
he can have escaped;" and then added, after a short pause, and in an
embarrassed and tremulous voice, "are you, tell me, Julia, are you going
with him?"

"Me! no, George; what could put such a wild thought into your head?"

"And what then is to become of you during his absence, that must
necessarily be a long one?"

"I shall remain with my aunt Selwyn in Bristol, till she returns to
Clifton."

"Julia, you know that I love you, and you have given me reason to
believe that I am far from indifferent to you; then why not, my dearest
girl, give me the right to protect and provide for you at once, instead
of delegating it to a maiden aunt, who, whatever may be her good
qualities, has, as you know, always regarded me with dislike and
jealousy."

"I cannot, George, without my father's consent."

"Your hand, then, goes where he chooses to bestow it, let your
affections be where they will."

"It is a duty that I owe to him to attend to his wishes, and listen to
his advice."

"So then, if he advises you to marry the fool Dormington, or the brute
Foxley, you obey unhesitatingly?"

"George, this is unkind; you are supposing an extreme case."

"But you say you will obey him; you repeat that it is your duty to
listen to his advice in all cases."

"I will never marry without his consent, but I will never marry any one
that I dislike."

"That is intimating, rather obliquely, to be sure, that you may alter
your mind."

"O George, George," said the weeping girl, "why will you continue to
torment me and yourself with these jealous doubts and suspicions? why
will you not rather ask my father's consent? you know his affection for
you."

"Yes, propose such a question, and what is the reply? a peremptory
refusal, and an immediate dismissal from his employment. Now that his
mind is so much taken up with his new scheme, such a proceeding would be
little short of madness. Be mine, then, at once."

"I dare not."

"But suppose, what is by no means impossible, nay, rather likely to
happen, that he should determine to fix himself in Mexico, or Lima, or
some other South American city, as foreign partner of the house?"

"I cannot believe such an event possible, but if it should--" she turned
away her head.

"Do I interpret your silence right, Julia? would you indeed be mine?
speak to me, Julia." She made no other answer than a sigh, but still
kept her head averted. By this time they had reached the house.

As soon as they were seated in the drawing-room, the lover again urged
her to "make signal of his hope;"--she raised her eyes, swimming in
tears, in which an affirmative was plainly to be read. The entrance of a
servant prevented the happy lover from proceeding to extremities upon
her lips, "according to the statute in such case made and provided;" and
a very excellent statute it is too. Whether the "quashing of
proceedings" by the inopportune appearance of the servant was agreeable
to either party, I leave to wiser heads than mine to determine.

Many very well-meaning people, who pass for men of sense in every other
respect, are apt, when they feel matrimonially inclined, to think it
indispensably necessary to court the old folks, "hammer and tongs," as
the vulgar saying is, in the first place, and, having obtained their
good graces, to proceed very leisurely in their approaches to the young
lady. This may be a very prudent mode of managing matters, for aught I
know, but to me it savors rather of cold-blooded calculation, than
ardent or even passably warm affection. It is, besides, a gross and
unpardonable insult to the said young lady, whom it places immediately
upon a level with a horse, a pig, a cow, a load of hay, a chest of
drawers, or any other article of trade. It is like a man-of-war going in
to engage an enemy's battery, and heaving to, to "blaze away" at two old
dismantled hulks that are lying high and dry at the harbor's mouth.




CHAPTER IV.

    _Parolles._ My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.

    _Lafeu._ Well, what would you have me to do? 'tis too late to pare her
    nails now.

                                        ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

    There never was yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.

                                        KING LEAR.


Julia Effingham was the only child of a rich merchant, who, like many
others in these latter days, when scheming and speculation have
superseded the good, old-fashioned habits of steady industry and
unmoveable perseverance in the art of acquiring wealth, was dazzled by
the one thousand and one bubbles that the South American revolution set
afloat. He dipped pretty largely into Mexican mines, and was bit; he
undertook to improve the breed of horses in Peru, and was bit; he
attempted to establish steam cotton-factories in Colombia, and was bit;
he bought largely into a Chilian Steam-boat Company, and was bit; till,
finally, he resolved to visit South America himself, "to see," as he
expressed it, "where the devil his fifty thousand pounds had gone to."
He could obtain no tidings of a single farthing on the Atlantic side of
that continent; but he learned one thing most thoroughly and
satisfactorily, as thousands have done besides him, that if he had gone
there in the first place, and seen the nakedness of the land, and the
deplorable and remediless ignorance and superstition of the people, his
fifty thousand pounds would have snugly remained in the three per cents.
and India bonds. He was determined, however, now that he was fairly
afloat, to "go the whole figure," and see the worst, if there was any
thing worse to come. Accordingly he took passage for Valparaiso, where
he found how, why, and wherefore his steam-boat concern had become a
decided take-in; it is not very profitable running a boat of that kind
in a country where wood sells at three cents per pound on the beach, and
where the people have no idea of travelling except in the saddle.

Chili, then under the directorship of O'Higgins, was the only South
American province that seemed to have changed for the better, by
renouncing its allegiance to "Ferdinand the Beloved." Its ports were
thrown open to foreign commerce; its navy was respectable, for the
ships, the officers, and the seamen were English or Americans; its
inhabitants had become quite civilized and tame, for the murdered
foreigners in the streets of Valparaiso did not average much more than
one or two per night; which, compared with Havana and Buenos Ayres,
gave Chili a preponderance of refinement scarcely credible. Mr.
Effingham was highly delighted with the country; and indeed Chili,
setting aside the inhabitants, for the salubrity and mildness of its
climate, the fertility of its soil, and the variety and delicacy of its
fruits and vegetables, is certainly one of the finest countries in the
world. He found many Englishmen established in various sections of the
country, and the better sort of inhabitants very much disposed to treat
them with kindness and urbanity.

He had been about eighteen months in St. Jago when he sent for his
daughter, who now constituted the whole of his family; his English
business he knew was safe in the management of his partner, and he sat
himself down with the determination of making a magnificent fortune very
much at his ease. Poor man! he little dreamed that the whole of South
America is as infamous for revolutions as it is for earthquakes.

Having said thus much concerning the father of Julia Effingham, it is
but fair to give the reader some idea of the lady herself. Indeed, in
strict gallantry, I suspect that I ought to have introduced her first,
but she has already been upon the stage, and "made her obedience," as
sailors call it, to the audience; and, besides, age has claims that
ought to be attended to.

In person, then, Julia was not remarkably tall, (I don't like tall
women; "a man never ought to look _up_ to his wife for a kiss or for
advice;") her form had all that graceful and delicate roundness and
fullness of outline so irresistibly pleasing to the eye. "Man," says an
elegant writer upon natural history, contrasting the two sexes, "man is
most angular, woman most round." Euclid himself could not have detected
any thing angular in the faultless form of Julia Effingham; nothing
resembling his "Asses' Bridge," or his "Windmill" problems, in the fall
of her shoulders, the bend of her snowy neck, the delicate round of her
chin, the delicious fulness of her ripe lip, the easy turn of her rosy
cheeks, the graceful curve of her brow. Her nose was indeed a straight
Grecian one, but not geometrically straight.

It must be admitted, by the way, that there are more decidedly _good_
noses among women than among men. The latter are aquiline, Roman,
parrot, pug, snub, thick, thin, long, short, peaked, bottle--some with a
bump in the middle, some with a cleft, or fissure, and some with a
button, or knob, at the end, like that on a man-of-war's boat-hook. In
short, to describe all the various kinds of noses masculine, it would be
necessary for philologians to create a new batch of adjectives, as the
king of England does occasionally of peers.

I have already said, or meant to be understood to say, that Miss
Effingham was somewhat inclined to _embonpoint_. I do not pretend to
know the reason of this: perhaps leanness and emaciation were not
considered _genteel_ when she happened to be educated, as they are
unfortunately by too many of my fair countrywomen; perhaps she never
thought much about it; for I have always observed that very beautiful
women, who prefer revolving in the quiet circle of domestic happiness
and usefulness, are seldom or never very anxiously solicitous about
their beauty; and the consequence is, that they _are_ more beautiful,
and stand the attacks of time far better, than those who choose a life
of fashionable display, and court public admiration. Ladies may lace
tight, eat pickles, and drink vinegar, to make them genteel; but it is
free exercise in the open air, and simplicity of diet, provided it is
nutritious, that confer gentility and grace, and preserve beauty. Will
any man, married or single, and in the possession of his senses, say
that he likes the looks of a horse whose ribs are visible and
_countable_ at half a mile's distance? I am confident the answer will
be, no.

Still there is a wonderful resemblance between a lean woman and a lean
horse, in more points than one; the lady does not, indeed, go upon all
fours, but I can never see a very _genteel_ female, laced into the shape
of an hour-glass, without wishing, from the bottom of my heart, that she
had an extra pair of le--ahem!--ancles, to support her feeble and
tottering frame.

As I am growing old, and am, moreover, somewhat peculiarly
circumstanced, I suppose that I must put up with such a wife as it
pleases God to send me; but were I ten or fifteen years younger, and
"well to do," I would accept of no descendant of mother Eve, as a
helpmate and partner for life, who did not cut at least two inches on
the ribs. The Turks, who are practical men of taste in these things; the
Chinese, who pretend to the highest antiquity in civilization; the naked
Africans and South Sea Islanders, beyond dispute the most
unsophisticated of all father Adam's children, and who, like Job,
"retain their integrity" pretty stiffly, considering the missionaries,
the "march of intellect," and other untoward circumstances, are all of
them most decidedly in favor of something substantial in wedlock; no man
of taste, in either of these nations, ever dreams of comfort and
happiness in matrimony, unless he clasps to his bosom an armful of wife.
They choose their wives as we do lobsters--the heaviest are the best.

I am a firm believer in the maxim that mind and matter exert a mutual
influence upon each other, and one of the most obvious deductions from
that datum that occurs to my mind is, that the acidities of the
disposition are not only neutralized but absolutely shut up by the
embonpoint of the body. People blessed with healthy plumpness are
indolent as well as good-natured, and it is a laborious piece of
business for such folks to get in a passion.

The wealth and fondness of Julia's father, and her own natural good
sense, had made her mistress of all those elegant and fashionable
accomplishments that constitute the education of a lady of fortune; and
she had a grace and sweetness in every thing she did that reminded the
beholder of that exquisitely beautiful line in Ariosto:

    "She walked--she spoke--she sang--and heaven was there."

This description may not be according to certain received axioms
concerning female beauty; but I never could bear to contemplate a fair
face and graceful form as painters do, who measure woman's loveliness by
certain fixed and arbitrary rules, as surveyors of lumber do boards.
Nothing makes me more fidgetty than to hear a man compare every
beautiful face he sees with a certain standard, even if that standard is
the Venus de Medicis herself; this face is not good, for it is not
exactly oval; that nose is altogether wrong, for it is not Grecian; a
chin is not this, or a mouth is not that, &c. Portrait painters are much
addicted to this kind of criticism; and whenever I find myself in
company with one of these two-foot-rule critics, I make my escape from
him as I would from a plague hospital.

At the time of our narrative, Julia's father had been absent somewhat
more than two years. He had sent for her to join him at Valparaiso, a
summons that she prepared to obey with no small trepidation. "The course
of true love," which is somewhat notorious for "never running smooth,"
seemed at this moment about to encounter a "head sea." Her absence from
England she knew must be a long one, perhaps an eternal one; the
separation from Allerton weighed much heavier upon her spirits than she
was willing to admit, and altogether her prospects of happiness seemed
darkened for ever.

The same conveyance that brought Julia's letters also brought
instructions to the other partners of the house to fit out two vessels
for the Pacific, one of which was to be entrusted to the command of
Captain Allerton; but Mr. Effingham omitted to designate which of the
two was to be honored by being for some months the floating home of his
fair daughter; either intending it should be left to her option, or
taking it for granted that his partner, well aware of the intimacy of
Allerton's standing in her father's family, would of course place Julia
on board the ship commanded by George. But that partner was a crafty old
fox, who had long since seen the growing affection of the two young
people, and, with all that eagerness to destroy happiness, that they are
past enjoying, that characterizes the majority of old people, decided
that Miss Julia should, for a time, entrust her person and fortunes to
the fatherly care of Captain Burton, a sedate old Cornish man of sixty
years of age, who had no more idea of love than he had of the Chaldee
language.




CHAPTER V.

     Should a man full of talk be justified? O that ye would altogether
     hold your peace; and it should be your wisdom.

                                             JOB, CH. XI. 2; XIII. 5.


Voyages across the Atlantic are now performed every day by old and young
women and children, and described by them so much more elegantly and
scientifically, and with so much more correct knowledge of the
technicalities necessary for such descriptions, than it is possible that
seafaring men can ever attain, that if one of the latter, in a moment of
mental hallucination, was to undertake to convey an idea of the element
that has been his home for years, he would be hissed off the stage as
another Munchausen. For this reason nautical men, who have laid aside
the marlinspike and taken up the pen, very prudently avoid that portion
of the literary arena, leaving Daddy Neptune's dominions to be explored
and described by landsmen.

It is in obedience to public opinion in this respect, I suppose, that
our Secretaries of the Navy are almost uniformly chosen from the "mass
of the people," at the greatest possible distance from high-water mark;
men who have never seen a piece of water that they could not jump
across, or a ship, except in the newspaper, till they came to
Washington. "Let the sea make a noise, and the fulness thereof; let the
floods clap their hands" for joy, that the Cooks and the Falconers, the
Ansons and the Byrons, of olden time, are at length banished from the
department of nautical literature, and no _oceanic_ description will be
listened to unless said or sung by a _ci-devant_ midshipman or a
half-boy, half-woman poet, who lies in his berth, and sees, through the
four-inch-plank deadlight of a packet, the full moon rising in the west.
James Fenimore Cooper, Esq.--I give the man his entire name and title,
as he seems to insist upon it upon all occasions--the "American Walter
Scott," is undisputably at the very head of his _trade_ at the present
day for nautical descriptions; his terrestrial admirers have pronounced
him "a practical seaman;" and, of course, the only man in these United
States that can give any, even an approximate idea of the sea, and
"those that go down in ships." I have at my pen's end six or eight very
desperate "cases" of his knowledge of "practical seamanship" and
maritime affairs, which may be found in the "Red Rover" and "Water
Witch" _passim_; but those animals, vulgarly called critics, but more
politely and properly at present, reviewers, whom the New York Mirror
defines to be "great dogs, that go about unchained and growl at every
thing they do not comprehend," these dogs have dragged the lion's hide
partly off, and ascertained, what every man, to whom the Almighty has
vouchsafed an ordinary share of common sense, had all along suspected,
that it covered an ass. James Fenimore Cooper, Esquire's "Letter to his
Countrymen" was an explosion of folly and absurdity that has blown his
name up so high, that there is little or no chance of its coming down
again "this king's reign." Whether he was or was not hired to write it
to support the present administration, as some folks suspect, is not my
affair. I will, therefore, resume the thread of my discourse, which was
only "belayed" for a few minutes, to indulge in the rare pleasure of
grumbling a little at seeing

    "Fools rush in where angels fear to tread."

Julia Effingham was embarked on board the large, burthensome, and not
alarmingly fast sailing brig Avon--John Burton, master; while the ship
under the command of Captain Allerton was called the Hyperion. Both
vessels were nearly of the same tonnage, though there was much
difference in their rates of sailing, the Hyperion having been built as
near the model of a swift American ship as the English naval architect's
conscience would let him, which, however, did not allow him any greater
latitude than such as made a very obvious difference in their appearance
and rate of speed. Miss Effingham was accompanied by her maid, Miss
Dolly, alias Dorothea, Hastings. Nothing material occurred for the first
six weeks of their voyage, by which time they had nearly reached the
equator, except that Allerton improved every opportunity afforded by
light breezes and calms to visit the Avon; which visits Captain Burton,
honest man! supposed were intended for himself.

But at this period--that is, six weeks after leaving the Lizard Point,
and while the two ships were in that peculiarly disagreeable strip of
salt water that lies between the southern limits of the north-east
trade-wind and the northern edge of the south-east, and is affected by
neither--there came on one night one of those very black and threatening
squalls, that look as though they would blow the ocean out of its bed,
and frequently do not blow at all. Captain Burton, who thought a squall
was a squall all over the world, and who was better acquainted with the
Grand Banks and the Bay of Biscay than with the tropics, took in all
sail, while the Hyperion, with topgallant-sails lowered, ran gallantly
before it, and made upwards of fifty miles before the breeze left her.
The Avon was in her turn shortly after favored with a fine breeze, but
the two ships did not meet again till they had passed Cape Horn.

In the mean time, Mr. Effingham began to discover that Chili was not
paradise, nor its inhabitants saints; many thefts, robberies, and
frauds, were practised upon him, for which he could obtain no redress
from the contemptible magistrates; an earthquake, that did a great deal
of damage, was followed by a sweeping epidemic, which, as it affected
only the natives, was imputed by the priests to magic art and diabolical
witchcraft on the part of the heretical foreign residents. A riot was
the consequence, and the foreigners were only able to secure their lives
and property by a combination of their numbers, and the most determined
firmness of purpose. In short, the harassed merchant found out at last
that he had blundered into one of those self-styled republics, so many
of which have sprung up and passed away since the commencement of the
nineteenth century, where infant Liberty is nursed by mother Mob.

These vexatious circumstances, and the prospect of an approaching
revolution, that threatened to be a bloody one, completely changed his
sentiments with regard to all South American governments, and he
bitterly regretted having sent for his daughter to join him.

It was too late now to remedy that mis-step; but he determined, as soon
as she arrived, to re-embark for England as soon as possible, and in
consequence he lost no time in disposing of his merchandize, and
transmitting his funds to the coast, and thence to the spirit-room of a
British frigate. Having thus "set his house in order," and adjusted his
Chilian books, he left St. Jago, and took up his abode for the time
being in Valparaiso, waiting impatiently for the arrival of the Hyperion
and Avon, that were now daily expected.




CHAPTER VI.

                    Finally, my dear hearers.

                                        OLD SERMONS.


Nothing material occurred to the good brig Avon after parting company,
as aforesaid, with her consort, the Hyperion; a circumstance that I
regret not a little, as it deprives me of my only chance for describing
a storm at sea. They only experienced one tornado, and fifteen gales of
wind, before joining the other ship. The tornado was no great things
after all--the brig ran merrily before it, under a reefed foresail and
close-reefed main-topsail. The crew were all on deck during the whole
night it lasted, in case of their services being required. But the
females below had by far the worst of it--they were "turned in" to
berths that the ship-joiner had built with reference rather to the
accommodation of an able-bodied man, than a delicate young lady; and in
consequence, poor Julia was dashed first against the vessel's side, and
then against the front berth-board, as the brig rolled gunwales under at
every motion, till she began to think with the Frenchman, that she
"should get some sleeps, no, not never." In this dilemma she thought of
taking her maid, Miss Dorothea Hastings, into the berth with her, where
the two females, operating mutually as "checks" to each other,
eventually made out a very passable night's rest. As for the gales of
wind, they were the merest flea-bites in creation, though one of them
borrowed the brig's fore-topmast, and another walked away with her
jib-boom.

During this period, Benavidas had been taken a second time; and as his
captors did not choose to risk shooting him again, which they had
already practised upon him once without success, they hanged him. His
gang were nearly all killed or taken at the same time, and the prisoners
summarily dealt with.

Longford and about thirty more made their escape in a small schooner;
and as they well knew that they would experience no other mercy, if
taken, than a high gallows and short halter, they shaped a course for
the island of Masafuero, which they determined to make their
head-quarters, and to commit depredations upon all vessels that passed
which were not too well armed. They effected a landing with some
difficulty, and found, as they expected, considerable quantities of
provisions and stores, that had been deposited among the deep fissures
of the rocks by Benavidas some time previous, when his affairs on the
continent began to assume a smoky appearance. Here the scattered but
desperate remnant of his lawless followers found a temporary respite
from the harassing pursuit of the Chilenos, that resulted every day in
the capture and immediate execution of some of their number.

The landing-place at Masafuero, with the open ground beyond it,
surrounded on three sides by broken rocks or high mountains, makes a
very beautiful appearance from the offing--anchorage, I believe, there
is none. It is a gentle slope, fronting the northern or sunny side of
the horizon, smooth, and of most delightful verdure. Perhaps it appeared
more lovely to me, who had been groping among the ices of the ant-arctic
circle for five months previous. The men whom we had left to get
seal-skins assured me the soil was very rich and deep, and the herbage
green and luxuriant. Since commencing these chapters, I have been
informed that the island is very frequently visited by our whalemen for
supplies of wood and young goat's flesh, which last is a savory morsel
to men who have been many months tumbling and rolling about on the long
regular swell of the Pacific. The waters that surround the island are
almost literally filled with fine fish, to which sailors have given the
general name of "snappers," and which differ from any fish among us,
more particularly in their propensity to bite as greedily at a bare hook
as a baited one.

It was here that the pirates lay _perdue_, waiting when the devil, who
always befriends such gentry, should send them a defenceless prey. They
were unable to anchor, as I have already noticed that there was no
anchorage, and were accordingly continually on the move, sometimes
extending their researches fifty or sixty miles to the eastward of Juan
Fernandez, which lies about that distance nearer the main than
Masafuero.

As they were lying to one morning, off the north-western side of
Fernandez, they were suddenly startled by the unexpected appearance of a
large brig that came out from behind the western extremity of the
island, and edged away towards the northward and eastward under all
sail. It was the first vessel they had seen since they had set up the
piratical business on their own account and risk, except an English
"jackass frigate," that chased them at the rate of one mile to the
schooner's five. The Vincedor, which was the name of the schooner, also
kept away and made sail, but kept yawing about in a manner that excited
the suspicions of the people on board the brig, and it was evident that
the manoeuvre would soon bring the schooner alongside. The brig now
hoisted the English ensign, but continued on her way without deviating
from her course. The schooner also made an attempt to "talk bunting," or
show colors; but she had nothing of the kind on board but some old
ragged signals that formerly belonged to the ill-fated brig Swan; and
one of these was accordingly run up to the end of the main gaff. Captain
Burton, for it was indeed he and the brig Avon, after attentively
examining the stranger, gave it as his opinion that she was a pirate,
and directed his men to stand to their guns.

In a few minutes the schooner, having closed with the Avon, fired a shot
across her bows, which being unnoticed, another was fired that passed
through her foresail, to which the brig replied with three guns loaded
with grape, that took fatal effect upon the exposed and crowded deck of
the Vincedor. The pirates then kept up a heavy and well-directed fire of
small arms upon the Avon, and Captain Burton, seeing several of his best
men killed and wounded, reluctantly gave orders to haul up the courses
and back the main yard, still keeping his colors flying.

Longford and about twenty ruffians like himself immediately came on
board; and their first question to Captain Burton was, how he had dared
to fire upon their schooner?

"Because," said the sturdy old seaman, "I knew you to be pirates, and I
was determined not to surrender this vessel without some resistance."

During this speech, Longford raised his pistol, and at its conclusion
fired; and the brave old sailor, shot through the body, and mortally
wounded, fell at his feet. This was the signal for a general massacre of
the crew; and while the bloody act was perpetrating, Longford ran down
into the cabin, to secure certain articles of plunder that he did not
choose to share with his partners in crime and blood.

Before the pirate came alongside the Avon, Captain Burton, suspecting
her real character, had requested Julia to go below for a while, on
pretence that he was going to tack ship, and she would be in the way, as
women always are at sea, of the head-braces and main-boom. As the blunt
old veteran never used much ceremony upon such occasions, she thought no
more about it, but went below as she was bid. The firing, however, had
terrified her exceedingly; and Miss Dorothy Hastings, who was sent out
as a vidette as far as the upper step of the companion-ladder, came
scampering back to the main body with intelligence that the stranger was
a pirate, and immediately proceeded to enumerate the outrages that they
might certainly calculate upon being subjected to. Almost sinking with
terror, Julia listened with a scarce-beating heart to the increased
trampling of feet on deck, the oaths of the pirates, and the report of a
pistol; and when the murderer Longford, splashed with poor Burton's
blood, suddenly appeared before her, she uttered a wild shriek, and sank
senseless upon the cabin floor.

But vengeance was on its way, and close at hand. While the pirates were
busily engaged in murdering the unhappy crew of the Avon, which they did
not accomplish without considerable loss to themselves, for the gallant
fellows fought most desperately, the Hyperion hove in sight from behind
Fernandez, following the track of her consort. Captain Allerton had
heard the firing, and, suspecting all was not right, had "packed on" a
press of sail, and soon came within short musket-shot of the schooner,
whose hull received eight or ten round shot, but her sweeps and
superiority of sailing on a wind, enabled her to escape. Allerton then
steered for the brig, the disordered state of whose sails, her braces
loose and yards flying about as the wind and sea pleased, convinced him
that the pirates had been on board, and it was with a horrible dread of
what might have taken place that he drew near. When within half a mile
of the Avon, he saw a boat shove off from alongside, that a single look
at his glass convinced him contained none of the brig's crew. Satisfied
that they were part of the schooner's piratical crew, he sent all his
men forward armed with muskets, with orders to give them a volley as
soon as they came near enough to be sure of their mark. This was done,
and the next moment the boat was sunk by the ship passing over her, and
not one of the blood-stained wretches escaped. The Hyperion then
shortened sail, and hove to.

To return to the Avon's cabin. When Longford saw a lovely young woman
lying insensible before him, when he expected no such person's existence
on board, his better feelings prevailed--he thought of his mother, his
sisters, his home, and the bright prospects he had forever darkened by
his own folly and vice, and he leaned against the bulk-head in bitter
agony. He neither heard nor heeded the repeated calls of one of his
comrades, announcing the rapid approach of the Hyperion, his thoughts
were in a complete whirl, nor was he roused from his gloomy reflections
but by the voices of Allerton and his boat's crew, as they came
alongside. Then he started and ran up the companion-way, but escape was
impossible. He drew a pistol from his belt; but before he could even put
himself in an attitude of defence, he was cloven to the teeth by a blow
of Allerton's cutlass.

Without stopping to see if there was more of them, George ran instantly
below, and found his Julia still insensible, and Miss Hastings kicking
her heels and screaming, after the most approved recipe for performing
hysterics. Allerton sprinkled the young lady's face with water and
vinegar, and ransacked the medicine-chest for hartshorn and ether, but
without success, till at length he thought of bleeding, at which he was
sufficiently expert when his patients had been sailors. The snow-white,
round arm was instantly bared and bandaged; the vein rose, and was
pierced by the lancet with as much skill as Sangrado himself could have
displayed; but the operator, although he knew how much blood a tough
seaman could afford to lose, was completely at a loss when his patient
was a delicate young lady; and, having, to his joy, witnessed the
success of his phlebotomy in restoring her to life and consciousness,
slacked the bandage and stopped the bleeding.

For a few minutes Julia's senses seemed completely bewildered; she
stared wildly around, and uttered the most incoherent ravings; when
George, who seemed to retain his presence of mind most wonderfully,
wisely reflecting that human nature was about the same, whether in
breeches or petticoats, poured out a glass of wine, and compelled his
patient to swallow a large share of it. The wine produced the most happy
effects. In a few minutes she looked up in his face with an intelligent
glance, and in a soft voice murmured his name.

In the mean time it would be unpardonable in us to leave Miss Dorothea
Hastings any longer. Allerton had been followed into the cabin by
several of his men, one of whom, compassionating the situation of the
young woman, who was, in truth, a plump, rosy-cheeked lass, and having
seen cold water thrown into the faces of people in fits, caught up a
gallon pitcher filled with the element, and dashed it into her
countenance. The remedy effectually restored her to consciousness and
herself, by rousing her indignation against the perpetrator of such an
ungallant action.

A German theorist of the present age has much such a way of curing all
human diseases; that is, he drives one disorder out of the system by
introducing another more powerful--in some cases similar, in others
directly opposite; as for instance, he attacks pulmonary consumption
with insanity, gout with the "seven-years-itch," small-pox with its
partial namesake, pleurisy with inflammatory rheumatism, &c., and so
_vice versa_ in all cases; no doubt the theory is a good one, and so
was that which proposed to keep a horse upon nothing.

In the course of an hour Julia declared herself sufficiently restored to
accompany George to his own ship, whither she was accordingly removed,
and a cabin fitted up for her accommodation.

In the process of burying the murdered crew of the Avon, four of her men
were found alive, severely but not dangerously wounded; and a fifth, who
had lowered himself over the bows, and clung to the bob-stays. Six of
the pirates were also found dead on her decks, their brains dashed out
by the handspikes with which the seamen had defended themselves till
shot down in detail.

By the time all necessary arrangements and changes had been made, it was
dark; and the Avon, with the second officer and six men from the
Hyperion, jogged along in the wake of that ship, which carried a lantern
at her gaff-end for her direction. Miss Dorothy, being comfortably
established in the Hyperion's cabin, complained of "feeling bad
somehow." Her mistress had _turned in_ long before, and was sound asleep
under the influence of a composing medicine, prescribed by her physician
and lover. Perhaps Miss Hastings thought the same medicine might do
_her_ good; perhaps she meant the complaint as a hint to Mr. Brail, the
mate, to have pity upon her. The seaman took the hint, real or
imaginary, and declared he could compound a draught as composing as any
prescribed in the "book of directions," and accordingly mixed a tumbler
of hot grog, well sweetened with loaf-sugar; but he forgot he was not
mixing for himself, and put in the same quantity of pure Antigua as
though the "charge" was intended for his own throat and brain of proof.
Miss Dolly drank the potent mixture, which effectually dispelled the
remains of her hysterical squall; and in a few minutes after retiring to
her berth, she was fast in the arms of Morpheus, if Morpheus ever goes
to sea.

Our story must now gallop a little. Mr. Effingham was delighted with
George's gallant conduct, though he was too late to save poor Burton and
his men; the cargoes of both vessels were sold, and the old gentleman,
with his daughter, returned to England with Allerton. Shortly after
their arrival, the hall of Effingham House witnessed the performance of
that ceremony, which, in the English prayer-books, "begins with 'dearly
beloved,' and ends with 'amazement;'" but "the bishops, priests, and
deacons, and all other clergy," who were engaged in altering and
adapting the Book of Common Prayer to the Episcopal church in this
country, finding nothing very amazing in matrimony, have omitted the
short sermon that usually closed its performance, and the form, like
most religious forms, now ends modestly with a simple Amen.

In three days after the murder on board the Avon, the schooner was
driven ashore upon Masafuero in a "norther," a violent gale so called
in that sea, from its uniformly blowing from the northward; and of the
eight on board, seven perished. The wretched survivor, after suffering
every thing but death from starvation, escaped in a whaler to the main,
was recognised, identified as one of Benavidas' gang, and shot before he
had been on shore two hours.