“A calamity I should deplore, quite or nearly as much as thyself,” returned Myndert, affecting to laugh; though he slipped the suspected doubloon into the bag again, in a manner that at once removed the object of contention from view. “A little particularity in the balance part of commerce serves to maintain friendships. But a trifle shall not cause us to waste the precious time.–Hast brought goods suited to the colonies?”
In plenty.”
“And ingeniously assorted? Colonies and monopoly!–But there is a two-fold satisfaction in this clandestine traffic! I never get the notice of thy arrival, Master Seadrift, but the heart within me leapeth of gladness! There is a double pleasure in circumventing the legislation of your London wiseacres!”
“The chiefest of which is–?”
“A goodly return for the investment, truly–I desire not to deny the agency of natural causes; but, trust me, there is a sort of professional glory in thus defeating the selfishness of our rulers. What! are we born of woman, to be used as the instruments of their prosperity! Give us equal legislation, a right to decide on the policy of enactments, and then, like a loyal and obedient subject,–”
“Thou wouldst still deal in the contraband!”
“Well, well, multiplying idle words is not multiplying gold. The list of the articles introduced can be forthcoming?”
“It is here, and ready to be examined. But there is a fancy come over me, Alderman Van Beverout, which, like others of my caprices, thou knowest must have its way. There should be a witness to our bargain.”
“Judges and juries! Thou forgettest, man, that a clumsy galliot could sail through the tightest clause of these extra-legal compacts. The courts receive the evidence of this sort of traffic, as the grave receives the dead; to swallow all, and be forgotten.”
“I care not for the courts, and little desire do I feel to enter them. But the presence of la belle Barbérie may serve to prevent any misconceptions, that might bring our connexion to a premature close. Let her be summoned.”
“The girl is altogether ignorant of traffic, and it might unsettle her opinions of her uncle’s stability. If a man does not maintain credit within his own doors, how can he expect it in the streets?”
“Many have credit on the highway, who receive none at home. But thou knowest my humor; no niece–no traffic.”
“Alida is a dutiful and affectionate child, and I would not willingly disturb her slumbers. Here is the Patroon of Kinderhook, a man who loves English legislation as little as myself;–he will be less reluctant to see an honest shilling turned into gold. I will awake him: no man was ever yet offended at an offer to share in a profitable adventure.”
“Let him sleep on. I deal not with your lords of manors and mortgages. Bring forth the lady, for there will be matter fit for her delicacy.”
“Duty and the ten commandments! You never had the charge of a child, Master Seadrift, and cannot know the weight of responsibility–”
“No niece–no traffic!” interrupted the wilful dealer in contraband, returning his invoice to his pocket, and preparing to rise from the table, where he had already seated himself.–“The lady knows of my presence; and it were safer for us both, that she entered more deeply into our confidence.”
“Thou art as despotic as the English navigation-law! I hear the foot of the child still pacing her chamber, and she shall come. But there need be no explanations, to recall old intercourse.–The affair can pass as a bit of accidental speculation–a by-play, in the traffic of life.”
“As thou pleasest. I shall deal less in words than in business. Keep thine own secrets, burgher, and they are safe. Still, I would have the lady, for there is a presentiment that our connexion is in danger.”
“I like not that word presentiment,” grumbled the Alderman, taking a light, and snuffing it with deliberate care; “drop but a single letter, and one dreams of the pains and penalties of the Exchequer. –Remember thou art a trafficker, who conceals his appearance on account of the cleverness of his speculations.”
“That is my calling, to the letter. Were all others as clever, the trade would certainly cease.– Go, bring the lady.”
The Alderman, who probably saw the necessity of making some explanation to his niece, and who, it would seem, fully understood the positive character of his companion, no longer hesitated; but, first casting a suspicious glance out of the still open window, he left the room.
CHAPTER X.
“–Alack, what heinous sin is it in me,
To be ashamed, to be my father’s child!
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners.–”
The moment the stranger was again alone, the entire expression of his countenance underwent a change. The reckless and bold expression deserted his eye, which once more became soft, if not pensive, as it wandered over the different elegant objects that served to amuse the leisure of la belle Barbérie. He arose, and touched the strings of a lute, and then, like Fear, started back, as if recoiling at the sound he had made. All recollection of the object of his visit was evidently forgotten, in a new and livelier interest; and had there been one to watch his movements, the last motive imputed to his presence would probably have been the one that was true. There was so little of that vulgar and common character, which is usually seen in men of his pursuit, in the gentle aspect and subdued air of his fine features, that it might be fancied he was thus singularly endowed by nature, in order that deception might triumph. If there were moments when a disregard of opinion was seen in his demeanor, it rather appeared assumed than easy; and even when most disposed to display lawless indifference to the ordinary regulations of society, in his interview with the Alderman, it had been blended with a reserve of manner that was strangely in contrast with his humor.
On the other hand, it were idle to say that Alida de Barbérie had no unpleasant suspicions concerning the character of her uncle’s guest. That baneful influence, which necessarily exerts itself near an irresponsible power, coupled with the natural indifference with which the principal regards the dependant, had caused the English Ministry to fill too many of their posts of honor and profit, in the colonies, with needy and dissolute men of rank, or of high political connexions at home. The Province of New-York had, in this respect, been particularly unfortunate. The gift of it by Charles to his brother and successor, had left it without the protection of those charters and other privileges that had been granted to most of the governments of America. The connexion with the crown was direct, and, for a long period, the majority of the inhabitants were considered as of a different race, and of course as of one less to be considered, than that of their conquerors. Such was the laxity of the times on the subject of injustice to the people of this hemisphere, that the predatory expeditions of Drake and others against the wealthy occupants of the more southern countries, seem to have left no spots on their escutcheons; and the honors and favors of Queen Elizabeth had been liberally extended to men who would now be deemed freebooters. In short, that system of violence and specious morality, which commenced with the gifts of Ferdinand and Isabella, and the bulls of the Popes, was continued, with more or less of modification, until the descendants of those single-minded and virtuous men who peopled the Union, took the powers of government into their own hands, and proclaimed political ethics that were previously as little practised as understood.
Alida knew that both the Earl of Bellamont and the unprincipled nobleman who has been introduced in the earlier pages of this tale, had not escaped the imputation of conniving at acts on the sea, far more flagrant than any of an unlawful trade; and it will therefore create little surprise, that she saw reason to distrust the legality of some of her uncle’s speculations, with less pain than might be felt by one of her sex and opinions at the present hour. Her suspicions, however, fell far short of the truth; for it were scarce possible to have presented a mariner, who bore about him fewer of those signs of his rude calling, than he whom she had so unexpectedly met.
Perhaps, too, the powerful charm, that existed in the voice and countenance of one so singularly gifted by nature, had its influence in persuading Alida to reappear. At all events, she was soon seen to enter the room, with an air, that manifested more of curiosity and wonder, than of displeasure.
“My niece has heard that thou comest from the old countries, Master Seadrift,” said the wary Alderman, who preceded Alida, “and the woman is uppermost in her heart. Thou wilt never be forgiven, should the eye of any maiden in Manhattan get sight of thy finery before she has passed judgment on its merit.”