All had passed away, but the deep dye on the surface of the ocean. The gorged fish disappeared; but the dark spot remained near the immovable raft, as if placed there to warn the survivors of their fate.
“This is horrible!” said Ludlow.
“A sail!” shouted the Skimmer, whose voice and tone, breaking in on that moment of intense horror and apprehension, sounded like a cry from the heavens. “My gallant brigantine!”
“God grant she come with better fortune than those who have so lately left us!”
“God grant it, truly! If this hope fail, there is none left. Few pass here, and we have had sufficient proof that our top-gallants are not so lofty as to catch every eye.”
All attention was now bestowed on the white speck which was visible on the margin of the ocean, and which the ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ confidently pronounced to be the Water-Witch. None but a seaman could have felt this certainty; for, seen from the low raft, there was little else to be distinguished but the heads of the upper sails. The direction too was unfavorable, as it was to leeward; but both Ludlow and the free-trader assured their companions, that the vessel was endeavoring to beat in with the land.
The two hours that succeeded lingered like days of misery. So much depended on a variety of events, that every circumstance was noted by the seamen of the party, with an interest bordering on agony. A failure of the wind might compel the vessel to remain stationary, and then both brigantine and raft would be at the mercy of the uncertain currents of the ocean; a change of wind might cause a change of course, and render a meeting impossible; an increase of the breeze might cause destruction, even before the succor could come. In addition to these obvious hazards, there were all the chances which were dependent on the fact that the people of the brigantine had every reason to believe the fate of the party was already sealed.
Still, fortune seemed propitious; for the breeze, though steady, was light, the intention of the vessel was evidently to pass somewhere near them, and the hope that their object was search, so strong and plausible, as to exhilarate every bosom.
At the expiration of the time named, the brigantine passed the raft to leeward, and so near as to render the smaller objects in her rigging distinctly visible.
“The faithful fellows are looking for us!” exclaimed the free-trader, with strong emotion in his voice. “They are men to scour the coast, ere they abandon us!”
“They pass us–wave the signal–it may catch their eyes!”
The little flag was unheeded, and, after so long and so intense expectation, the party on the raft had the pain to see the swift-moving vessel glide past them, and drawing so far ahead as to leave little hope of her return. The heart of even the ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ appeared to sink within him, at the disappointment.
“For myself, I care not;” said the stout mariner mournfully. “Of what consequence is it, in what sea, or on what voyage, a seaman goes into his watery tomb?–but for thee, my hapless and playful Eudora, I could wish another fate–ha!–she tacks!–the sea-green lady has an instinct for her children, after all!”
The brigantine was in stays.–In ten or fifteen minutes more, the vessel was again abeam of the raft, and to windward.
“If she pass us now, our chance is gone, without a shadow of hope;” said the Skimmer, motioning solemnly for silence. Then, applying his hands to his mouth, he shouted, as if despair lent a giant’s volume to his lungs–
“Ho! The Water-Witch!–ahoy!”
The last word issued from his lips with the clear, audible cry, that the peculiar sound is intended to produce. It appeared as if the conscious little bark knew its commander’s voice; for its course changed slightly, as if the fabric were possessed of the consciousness and faculties of life.
“Ho! The Water-Witch!–ahoy!” shouted the Skimmer, with a still mightier effort.
“–Hilloa!” came down faintly on the breeze, and the direction of the brigantine again altered.
“The Water-Witch!–the Water-Witch!–ahoy!” broke out of the lips of the mariner of the shawl, with a supernatural force,–the last cry being drawn out, till he who uttered it sunk back exhausted with the effort.
The words were still ringing in the ears of the breathless party on the raft, when a heavy shout swept across the water. At the next moment the boom of the brigantine swung off, and her narrow bows were seen pointing towards the little beacon of white that played above the sea. It was but a moment, but it was a moment pregnant with a thousand hopes and fears, before the beautiful craft was gliding within fifty feet of the top. In less than five minutes, the spars of the Coquette were floating on the wide ocean, unpeopled and abandoned.
The first sensation of the ‘Skimmer of the Seas,’ when his foot touched the deck of his brigantine, might have been one of deep and intense gratitude. He was silent, and seemingly oppressed at the throat. Stepping along the planks, he cast an eye aloft, and struck his hand powerfully on the capstan, in a manner that was divided between convulsion and affection. Then he smiled grimly on his attentive and obedient crew, speaking with all his wonted cheerfulness and authority.
“Fill away the topsail–brace up and haul aft! Trim every thing flat as boards, boys;–jam the hussy in with the coast!”
CHAPTER XVI.
“Beseech you, Sir, were you present at this relation?”
Winter’s Tale. On the following morning, the windows of the Lust in Rust denoted the presence of its owner. There was an air of melancholy, and yet of happiness, in the faces of many who were seen about the buildings and the grounds, as if a great good had been accompanied by some grave and qualifying circumstances of sorrow. The negroes wore an air of that love of the extraordinary which is the concomitant of ignorance, while those of the more fortunate class resembled men who retained a recollection of serious evils that were past.
In the private apartment of the burgher, however, an interview took place which was characterized by an air of deep concern. The parties were only the free-trader and the Alderman. But it was apparent, in the look of each, that they met like men who had interesting and serious matters to discuss. Still, one accustomed to the expressions of the human countenance might have seen, that while the former was about to introduce topics in which his feelings were powerfully enlisted, the other looked only to the grosser interests of his commerce.
“My minutes are counted;” said the mariner, stepping into the centre of the room, and facing his companion. “That which is to be said, must be said briefly. The inlet can only be passed on the rising water, and it will ill consult your opinions of prudence, were I to tarry, till the hue and cry, that will follow the intelligence of that which has lately happened in the offing, shall be heard in the Province.”
“Spoken with a rover’s discretion! This reserve will perpetuate friendship, which is nought weakened by your activity in our late uncomfortable voyage on the yards and masts of Queen Anne’s late cruiser. Well! I wish no ill-luck to any loyal gentleman in Her Majesty’s service; but it is a thousand pities that thou wert not ready, now the coast is clear, with a good heavy inward cargo! The last was altogether an affair of secret drawers, and rich laces; valuable in itself, and profitable in the exchange: but the colony is sadly in want of certain articles that can only be landed at leisure.”
“I come on other matters. There have been transactions between us, Alderman Van Beverout, that you little understand.”
“You speak of a small mistake in the last invoice?–’Tis all explained, Master Skimmer, on a second examination; and thy accuracy is as well established as that of the bank of England.”
“Established or not, let him who doubts cease to deal.–I have no other motto than ‘confidence,’ nor any other rule but ‘justice.”’
“You overrun my meaning, friend of mine. I intimate no suspicions; but accuracy is the soul of commerce, as profit is its object. Clear accounts, with reasonable balances, are the surest cements of business intimacies. A little frankness operates, in a secret trade, like equity in the courts; which reestablishes the justice that the law has destroyed.– What is thy purpose?”
“It is now many years, Alderman Van Beverout, since this secret trade was commenced between you and my predecessor,–he, whom you have thought my father, but who only claimed that revered appellation by protecting the helplessness and infancy of the orphan child of a friend.”
“The latter circumstance is new to me;” returned the burgher, slowly bowing his head. “It may explain certain levities which have not been without their embarrassment. ’Tis five-and-twenty years, come August, Master Skimmer, and twelve of them have been under thy auspices. I will not say that the adventures might not have been better managed; as it is, they are tolerable. I am getting old, and think of closing the risks and hazards of life–two or three, or, at the most, four or five, lucky voyages, must, I think, bring a final settlement between us.”