“And on them, too, thoughtless boy! If you lose this occasion, thy life will be wedded to hazard!”
“Farewell, Eudora!” said the urchin, raising his mouth to give and receive the parting kiss.
“Eudora, adieu!” added a deep and melancholy voice, at her elbow. “I can delay no longer, for my people show symptoms of impatience. Should this be the last of my voyages to the coast, thou wilt not forget those with whom thou hast so long shared good and evil!”
“Not yet–not yet–you will not quit us yet! Leave me the boy–leave me some other memorial of the past, besides this pain!”
“My hour has come. The wind is freshening, and I trifle with its favor. ’Twill be better for thy happiness that none know the history of the brigantine; and a few hours will draw a hundred curious eyes, from the town, upon us.”
“What care I for their opinions?–thou wilt not –cannot–leave me, yet!”
“Gladly would I stay, Eudora, but a seaman’s home is his ship. Too much precious time is already wasted. Once more, adieu!”
The dark eye of the girl glanced wildly about her. It seemed, as if in that one quick and hurried look, it drank in all that belonged to the land and its enjoyments.
“Whither go you?” she asked, scarce suffering her voice to rise above a whisper. “Whither do you sail, and when do you return?”
“I follow fortune. My return may be distant– never!–Adieu then, Eudora–be happy with the friends that Providence hath given thee!”
The wandering eyes of the girl of the sea became still more unsettled. She grasped the offered hand of the free-trader in both her own, and wrung it in an impassioned and unconscious manner. Then releasing her hold, she opened wide her arms, and cast them convulsively about his unmoved and unyielding form.
“We will go together!–I am thine, and thine only!”
“Thou knowest not what thou sayest, Eudora!” gasped the Skimmer–“Thou hast a father–friend –husband–”
“Away, away!” cried the frantic girl, waving her hand wildly towards Alida and the Patroon, who advanced as if hurrying to rescue her from a precipice–“Thine, and thine only!”
The smuggler released himself from her frenzied grasp, and, with the strength of a giant, he held the struggling girl at the length of his arm, while he endeavored to control the tempest of passion that struggled within him.
“Think, for one moment, think!” he said. “Thou wouldst follow an outcast–an outlaw–one hunted and condemned of men!”
“Thine, and thine only!”
“With a ship for a dwelling–the tempestuous ocean for a world!–”
“Thy world is my world!–thy home, my home! –thy danger, mine!”
The shout which burst out of the chest of the ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ was one of uncontrollable exultation.
“Thou art mine!” he cried. “Before a tie like this, the claim of such a father is forgotten! Burgher, adieu!–I will deal by thy daughter more honestly than thou didst deal by my benefactor’s child!”
Eudora was lifted from the ground as if her weight had been that of a feather; and, spite of a sudden and impetuous movement of Ludlow and the Patroon, she was borne to the boat. In a moment, the bark was afloat, with the gallant boy tossing his seacap upward in triumph. The brigantine, as if conscious of what had passed, wore round like a whirling chariot; and, ere the spectators had recovered from their confusion and wonder, the boat was hanging at the tackles. The free-trader was seen on the poop, with an arm cast about the form of Eudora, waving a hand to the motionless group on the shore, while the still half-unconscious girl of the ocean signed her faint adieus to Alida and her father. The vessel glided through the inlet, and was immediately rocking on the billows of the surf. Then, taking the full weight of the southern breeze, the fine and attenuated spars bent to its force, and the progress of the swift-moving craft was apparent by the bubbling line of its wake.
The day had begun to decline, before Alida and Ludlow quitted the lawn of the Lust in Rust. For the first hour, the dark hull of the brigantine was seen supporting the moving cloud of canvas. Then the low structure vanished, and sail after sail settled into the water, until nothing was visible but a speck of glittering white. It lingered for a minute, and was swallowed in the void.
The nuptials of Ludlow and Alida were touched with a shade of melancholy. Natural affection in one, and professional sympathy in the other, had given them a deep and lasting interest in the fate of the adventurers.
Years passed away, and months were spent at the villa, in which a thousand anxious looks were cast upon the ocean. Each morning, during the early months of summer, did Alida hasten to the windows of her pavilion, in the hope of seeing the vessel of the contraband anchored in the Cove:–but always without success. It never returned;–and though the rebuked and disappointed Alderman caused many secret inquiries to be made along the whole extent of the American coast, he never again heard of the renowned ‘Skimmer of the Seas,’ or of his matchless Water-Witch.
THE END.