But in the end, truth will out.–”
Launcelot. The officer of the Queen had leaped into the pavilion, with the flushed features and all the hurry of an excited man. The exclamations and retreat of la belle Barbérie, for a single moment, diverted his attention; and then he turned, suddenly, not to say fiercely, towards her companion. It is not necessary to repeat the description of the stranger’s person, in order to render the change, which instantly occurred in the countenance of Ludlow, intelligible to the reader. His eye, at first, refused to believe there was no other present; and when it had, again and again, searched the whole apartment, it returned to the face and form of the dealer in contraband, with an expression of incredulity and wonder.
“Here is some mistake!” exclaimed the commander of the Coquette, after time had been given for a thorough examination of the room.
“Your gentle manner of entrance,” returned the stranger, across whose face there had passed a glow, that might have come equally of anger or of surprise, “has driven the lady from the room. But as you wear the livery of the Queen, I presume you have authority for invading the dwelling of the subject?”
“I had believed–nay, there was reason to be certain, that one whom all of proper loyalty execrate, was to be found here;” stammered the still-confused Ludlow. “There can scarce be a deception, for I plainly heard the discourse of my captors,–and yet here is none!”
“I thank you for the high consideration you bestow on my presence.”
The manner, rather than the words, of the speaker, induced Ludlow to rivet another look on his countenance. There was a mixed expression of doubt, admiration, and possibly of uneasiness, if not of actual jealousy, in the eye, which slowly read all his lineaments, though the former seemed the stronger sensation of the three.
“We have never met before!” cried Ludlow, when the organ began to grow dim, with the length and steadiness of its gaze.
“The ocean has many paths, and men may journey on them, long, without crossing each other.”
“Thou hast served the Queen, though I see thee in this doubtful situation?”
“Never, I am not one to bind myself to the servitude of any woman that lives,” returned the free-trader, while a mild smile played about his lip, “though she wore a thousand diadems! Anne never had an hour of my time, nor a single wish of my heart.”
“This is bold language, Sir, for the ear of her officer. The arrival of an unknown brigantine, certain incidents which have occurred to myself this night, your presence here, that bale of articles forbidden by the law, create suspicions that must be satisfied. Who are you?”
“The flagrant wanderer of the ocean–the outcast of society–the condemned in the opinions of the world–the lawless ‘Skimmer of the Seas!’ ”
“This cannot be! The tongues of men speak of the personal deformity of that wanderer, no less than of his bold disregard of the law. You would deceive me.”
“If then men err so much in that which is visible and unimportant,” returned the other, proudly, “is there not reason to doubt their accuracy in matters of more weight. I am surely what I seem, if I am not what I say.”
“I will not credit so improbable a tale;–give me some proof that what I hear is true.”
“Look at that brigantine, whose delicate spars are almost confounded with the back-ground of trees,” said the other, approaching the window, and directing the attention of his companion to the Cove: “’Tis the bark that has so often foiled the efforts of all thy cruisers, and which transports me and my wealth whither I will, without the fetters of arbitrary laws, and the meddling inquiries of venal hirelings. The scud, which floats above the sea, is not freer than that vessel, and scarcely more swift. Well is she named the Water-Witch! for her performances on the wide ocean have been such as seem to exceed all natural means. The froth of the sea does not dance more lightly above the waves, than yonder graceful fabric, when driven by the breeze. She is a thing to be loved, Ludlow; trust me, I never yet set affections on woman, with the warmth I feel for the faithful and beautiful machine!”
“This is little more than any mariner could say, in praise of a vessel that he admired.”
“Will you say it, Sir, in favor of yon lumbering sloop of Queen Anne? Your Coquette is none of the fairest, and there was more of pretension than of truth, at her christening.”
“By the title of my royal mistress, young beardless, but there is an insolence in this language, that might become him you wish to represent! My ship, heavy or light of foot, as she may be, is fated to bring yonder false trader to the judgment.”
“By the craft and qualities of the Water-Witch! but this is language that might become one who was at liberty to act his pleasure,” returned the stranger, tauntingly imitating the tone, in which his angry companion had spoken. “You would have proof of my identity: listen. There is one who vaunts his power, that forgets he is a dupe of my agent, and that even while his words are so full of boldness, he is a captive!”
The brown cheek of Ludlow reddened, and he turned toward the lighter and far less vigorous frame of his companion, as if about to strike him to the earth, when a door opened, and Alida appeared in the saloon.
The meeting, between the commander of the Coquette and his mistress, was not without embarrassment. The anger of the former and the confusion of the latter, for a moment, kept both silent; but as la belle Barbérie had not returned without an object, she was quick to speak.
“I know not whether to approve, or to condemn, the boldness that has prompted Captain Ludlow to enter my pavilion, at this unseasonable hour, and in so unceremonious a manner,” she said, “for I am still ignorant of his motive. When he shall please to let me hear it, I may judge better of the merit of the excuse.”
“True, we will hear his explanation before condemnation,” added the stranger, offering a seat to Alida, which she coldly declined. “Beyond a doubt, the gentleman has a motive.”
If looks could have destroyed, the speaker would have been annihilated. But as the lady seemed indifferent to the last remark, Ludlow prepared to enter on his vindication.
“I shall not attempt to conceal that an artifice has been practised,” he said, “which is accompanied by consequences that I find awkward. The air and manner of the seaman, whose bold conduct you witnessed in the boat, induced me to confide in him more than was prudent, and I have been rewarded by deception.”
“In other words, Captain Ludlow is not as sagacious as he had reason to believe,” said an ironical voice, at his elbow.
“In what manner am I to blame, or why is my privacy to be interrupted, because a wandering seaman has deceived the commander of the Coquette?” rejoined Alida. “Not only that audacious mariner, but this–this person,” she added, adopting a word that use has appropriated to the multitude, “is a stranger to me. There is no other connexion between us, than that you see.”
“It is not necessary to say why I landed,” continued Ludlow; “but I was weak enough to allow that unknown mariner to quit my ship, in my company; and when I would return, he found means to disarm my men, and make me a prisoner.”
“And yet, art thou, for a captive, tolerably free!” added the ironical voice.
“Of what service is this freedom, without the means of using it? The sea separates me from my ship, and my faithful boat’s-crew are in fetters. I have been little watched, myself; but though forbidden to approach certain points, enough has been seen to leave no doubts of the character of those whom Alderman Van Beverout entertains.”
“Thou wouldst also say, and his niece, Ludlow?”
“I would say nothing harsh to, or disrespectful of, Alida de Barbérie. I will not deny that a harrowing idea possessed me,–but I see my error, and repent having been so hasty.”
“We may then resume our commerce,” said the trader, coolly seating himself before the open bale, while Ludlow and the maiden stood regarding each other in mute surprise. “It is pleasant to exhibit these forbidden treasures to an officer of the Queen! It may prove the means of gaining the royal patronage. We were last among the velvets, and on the lagunes, of Venice. Here is one of a color and quality to form a bridal dress for the Doge himself, in his nuptials with the sea! We men of the ocean look upon that ceremony as a pledge Hymen will not forget us, though we may wander from his altars. Do I justice to the faith of the craft, Captain Ludlow?–or are you a sworn devotee of Neptune, and content to breathe your sighs to Venus, when afloat? Well, if the damps and salt air of the ocean rust the golden chain, it is the fault of cruel nature!–Ah! here is–”