“Cruisers and manors! What in the name of mysteries is thy meaning? The girl is not here; you declare she is not on board of the Coquette, and there remains only–”
“The brigantine!” groaned the young sailor uttering the word by a violent effort of the will.
“The brigantine!” repeated the Alderman, slowly. “My niece can have nothing to do aboard a dealer in contraband. That is to say, Alida Barbérie is not a trader.”
“Alderman Van Beverout, if we wish to escape the contamination of vice, its society must be avoided. There was one in the pavilion, of a mien and assurance, the past night, that might delude an angel. Ah! woman! woman! thy mind is composed of vanities, and thy imagination is thy bitterest foe!”
“Women and vanities!” echoed the amazed burgher. “My niece, the heiress of old Etienne Marie de Barbérie, and the sought of so many of honorable names and respectable professions, to be a refugee with a rover!–always supposing your opinions of the character of the brigantine to be just. This is a conjecture too improbable to be true.”
“The eye of a lover, Sir, may be keener than that of a guardian–call it jealousy, if you will,– would to Heaven my suspicions were untrue!–but if she be not there, where is she?”
The opinion of the Alderman seemed staggered. If la belle Barbérie had not yielded to the fascinations of that wayward, but seductive, eye and smile, to that singular beauty of face, and to the secret and often irresistible charm that encircles eminent personal attractions, when aided by mystery, to what had she yielded, and whither had she fled?
These were reflections that now began to pass through the thoughts of the Alderman, as they had already planted stings in the bosom of Ludlow. With reflection, conviction began slowly to assert its power. But the truth did not gleam upon the mind of the calculating and wary merchant, with the same instinctive readiness that it had flashed upon the jealous faculties of the lover. He pondered on each circumstance of the interview between the dealer in contraband and his niece; recalled the manner and discourse of the former; drew certain general and vague conjectures concerning the power which novelty, when coupled with circumstances of romance, might exercise over a female fancy; and dwelt long and secretly on some important facts that were alone known to himself,–before his judgment finally settled down into the same opinion, as that which his companion had formed, with all the sensitiveness of jealous alarm.
“Women and vagaries!” muttered the burgher, after his study was ended. “Their conceits are as uncertain as the profits of a whaling voyage, or the luck of a sportsman. Captain Ludlow, your assistance will be needed in this affair; and, as it may not be too late, since there are few priests in the brigantine–always supposing her character to be what you affirm–my niece may yet see her error, and be disposed to reward so much assiduity and attachment.”
“My services shall always be ready, so long as they can be useful to Alida Barbérie,” returned the young officer with haste, and yet a little coldly. “It will be time enough to speak of the reward, when we shall have succeeded.”
“The less noise that is made about a little domestic inconvenience like this, the better; and I would therefore suggest the propriety of keeping our suspicions of the character of the vessel a secret, until we shall be better informed.”
The captain bowed his assent to the proposal.
“And now that we are of the same mind in the preliminaries, we will seek the Patroon of Kinderhook, who has a claim to participate in our confidence.”
Myndert then led the way from the empty and melancholy Cour des Fées, with a step that had regained its busy and firm tread, and a countenance that expressed far more of vexation and weariness, than of real sorrow.
CHAPTER XIV.
“–I’ll give thee a wind.
“–Thou art kind.
“–And I another.
“–I myself have all the other.”
Macbeth
The cloud above the mouth of the Raritan had not risen. On the contrary, the breeze still came from off the sea; and the brigantine in the Cove, with the cruiser of the Queen, still lay at their anchors, like two floating habitations that were not intended to be removed. The hour was that at which the character of the day becomes fixed; and there was no longer any expectation that a land-wind would enable the vessel of the free-trader to repass the inlet, before the turn of the tide, which was again running swiftly on the flood.
The windows of the Lust in Rust were open, as when its owner was present; and the menials were employed, in and about the villa, in their customary occupations; though it was evident, by the manner in which they stopped to converse, and by the frequent conferences which had place in secret corners, that they wondered none the less at the unaccountable disappearance of their young mistress. In all other respects, the villa and its grounds were, as usual, quiet and seemingly deserted.
But there was a group collected beneath the shade of an oak on the margin of the Cove, and at a point where it was rare for man to be seen. This little party appeared to be in waiting for some expected communication from the brigantine; since they had taken post on the side of the inlet, next the cape, and in a situation so retired, as to be entirely hid from any passing observation of those who might enter or leave the mouth of the Shrewsbury. In short, they were on the long, low, and narrow barrier of sand, that now forms the projection of the Hook, and which, by the temporary breach that the Cove had made between its own waters and that of the ocean, was then an island.
“Snug should be the motto of a merchant,” observed one of these individuals, whose opinions will sufficiently announce his name to the reader. “He should be snug in his dealings, and snug in his manner of conducting them; snug in his credits, and, above all, snug in his speculations. There is as little need, gentlemen, in calling in the aid of a posse-comitatus for a sensible man to keep his household in order, as that a discreet trader should go whistling through the public markets, with the history of his operations. I gladly court two so worthy assistants, as Captain Cornelius Ludlow and Mr. Oloff Van Staats; for I know there will be no useless gossip concerning the trifling derangement that hath occurred. Ah! the black hath had communications with the free-trader–always supposing the opinion of Mr. Ludlow concerning the character of the vessel to be just– and he is quitting the brigantine.”
Neither of the companions of the Alderman made any reply. Each watched the movement of the skiff that contained their messenger, and each seemed to feel an equal interest in the result of his errand. Instead, however, of approaching the spot where his master and his two friends expected him, the negro, though he knew that his boat was necessary to enable the party to recross the inlet, pulled directly for the mouth of the river,–a course that was exactly contrary to the one he was expected to take.
“Rank disobedience!” grumbled the incensed master. “The irreverent dog is deserting us, on this neck of barren sand, where we are cut off from all communication with the interior, and are as completely without intelligence of the state of the market, and other necessaries, as men in a desert!”
“Here comes one that seems disposed to bring us to a parley,” observed Ludlow, whose practised eye had first detected a boat quitting the side of the brigantine, as well as the direction it was about to steer.
The young commander was not deceived; for a light cutter, that played like a bubble on its element, was soon approaching the shore, where the three expectants were seated. When it was near enough to render sight perfectly distinct, and speech audible without an effort, the crew ceased rowing, and permitted the boat to lie in a state of rest. The mariner of the India-shawl then arose in the stern-sheets, and examined the thicket behind the party, with a curious and suspicious eye. After a sufficient search, he signed to his crew to force the cutter still nigher to the land, and spoke:
“Who has affairs with any of the brigantine?” he coolly demanded, wearing the air of one who had no reason to anticipate the object of their visit. “She has little left that can turn to profit, unless she parts with her beauty.”
“Truly, good stranger,” returned the Alderman, laying a sufficient emphasis on the latter word, “here are none disposed to a traffic, which might not be pleasing to the authorities of the country, were its nature known. We come with a desire to be admitted to a conference with the commander of the vessel, on a matter of especial but private concern.”