We subjects of the elements are slaves to superstition;” he said, when the light foot of the child touched the ground. “It is the consequence of lives which ceaselessly present dangers superior to our powers. For many years have I believed that some great good, or some greater evil, would accompany the first visit of this boy to the land. For the first time, his foot now stands on solid earth. I await the fulfilment of the augury!”
“It will be happy;” returned Ludlow–“Alida and Eudora will instruct him in the opinions of this simple and fortunate country, and he seemeth one likely to do early credit to his schooling.”
“I fear the boy will regret the lessons of the sea-green lady!–Captain Ludlow, there is yet a duty to perform, which, as a man of more feeling than you may be disposed to acknowledge, I cannot neglect. I have understood that you are accepted by la belle Barbérie?”
“Such is my happiness.”
“Sir, in dispensing with explanation of the past, you have shown a noble confidence, that merits a return. When I came upon this coast, it was with a determination of establishing the claims of Eudora to the protection and fortune of her father. If I distrusted the influence and hostility of one so placed, and so gifted to persuade, as this lady, you will remember it was before acquaintance had enabled me to estimate more than her beauty. She was seized in her pavilion by my agency, and transported as a captive to the brigantine.”
“I had believed her acquainted with the history of her cousin, and willing to aid in some fantasy which was to lead to the present happy restoration of the latter to her natural friends.”
“You did her disinterestedness no more than justice. As some atonement for the personal wrong, and as the speediest and surest means of appeasing her alarm, I made my captive acquainted with the facts. Eudora then heard, also for the first time, the history of her origin. The evidence was irresistible, and we found a generous and devoted friend where we had expected a rival.”
“I knew that Alida could not prove less generous!” cried the admiring Ludlow, raising the hand of the blushing girl to his lips. “The loss of fortune is a gain, by showing her true character!”
“Hist–hist–”interrupted the Alderman–“there is little need to proclaim a loss of any kind. What must be done in the way of natural justice, will doubtless be submitted to; but why let all in the colony know how much, or how little, is given with a bride?”
“The loss of fortune will be amply met;” returned the free-trader. “These bags contain gold. The dowry of my charge is ready at a moment’s warning, whenever she shall make known her choice.”
“Success and prudence!” exclaimed the burgher. “There is no less than a most commendable forethought in thy provision, Master Skimmer; and whatever may be the opinion of the Exchequer Judges of thy punctuality and credit, it is mine that there are less responsible men about the bank of England itself!–This money is, no doubt, that which the girl can lawfully claim in right of her late grandfather!”
“It is.”
“I take this to be a favorable moment to speak plainly on a subject which is very near my heart, and which may as well be broached under such favorable auspices as under any other. I understand, Mr. Van Staats, that, on a further examination of your sentiments towards an old friend, you are of opinion that a closer alliance than the one we had contemplated will most conduce to your happiness?”
“I will acknowledge that the coldness of la belle Barbérie has damped my own warmth;” returned the Patroon of Kinderhook, who rarely delivered himself of more, at a time, than the occasion required.
“And, furthermore, I have been told, Sir, that an intimacy of a fortnight has given you reason to fix your affections on my daughter, whose beauty is hereditary, and whose fortune is not likely to be diminished by this act of justice on the part of that upright and gallant mariner.”
“To be received into the favor of your family, Mr. Van Beverout, would leave me little to desire in this life.”
“And as for the other world, I never heard of a Patroon of Kinderhook who did not leave us with comfortable hopes for the future; as in reason they should, since few families in the colony have done more for the support of religion than they. They gave largely to the Dutch churches in Manhattan; have actually built, with their own means, three very pretty brick edifices on the Manor, each having its Flemish steeple and suitable weather-cocks, besides having done something handsome towards the venerable structure in Albany. Eudora, my child; this gentleman is a particular friend, and as such I can presume to recommend him to thy favor. You are not absolutely strangers; but, in order that you may have every occasion to decide impartially, you will remain here together for a month longer, which will enable you to choose without distraction and confusion. More than this, for the present, it is unnecessary to say; for it is my practice to leave all matters of this magnitude entirely to Providence.”
The daughter, on whose speaking face the color went and came like lights changing in an Italian sky, continued silent.
“You have happily put aside the curtain which concealed a mystery that no longer gave me uneasiness;” interrupted Ludlow, addressing the free-trader. “Can you do more, and say whence came this latter?”
The dark eye of Eudora instantly lighted. She looked at the ‘Skimmer of the Seas,’ and laughed.
“’Twas another of those womanly artifices which have been practised in my brigantine. It was thought that a young commander of a royal cruiser would be less apt to watch our movements, were his mind bent on the discovery of such a correspondent.”
“And the trick has been practised before?”
“I confess it.–But I can linger no longer. In a few minutes, the tide will turn, and the inlet become impassable. Eudora, we must decide on the fortunes of this child. Shall he to the ocean again?–or shall he remain, to vary his life with a landsman’s chances?”
“Who and what is the boy?” gravely demanded the Alderman.
“One dear to both,” rejoined the free-trader. “His father was my nearest friend, and his mother long watched the youth of Eudora. Until this moment, he has been our mutual care;–he must now choose between us.”
“He will not quit me!” hastily interrupted the alarmed Eudora–“Thou art my adopted son, and none can guide thy young mind like me. Thou hast need of woman’s tenderness, Zephyr, and wilt not quit me?”
“Let the child be the arbiter of his own fate. I am credulous on the point of fortune, which is, at least, a happy belief for the contraband.”
“Then let him speak. Wilt remain here, amid these smiling fields, to ramble among yonder gay and sweetly-scented flowers?–or wilt thou back to the water, where all is vacant and without change?”
The boy looked wistfully into her anxious eye, and then he bent his own hesitating glance on the calm features of the free-trader.
“We can put to sea,” he said; “and when we make the homeward passage again, there will be many curious things for thee, Eudora!”
“But this may be the last opportunity to know the land of thy ancestors. Remember how terrible is the ocean in its anger, and how often the brigantine has been in danger of shipwreck!”
“Nay, that is womanish!–I have been on the royal-yard in the squalls, and it never seemed to me that there was danger.”
“Thou hast the unconsciousness and reliance of a ship-boy! But those who are older, know that the life of a sailor is one of constant and imminent hazard.–Thou hast been among the islands in the hurricane, and hast seen the power of the elements!”
“I was in the hurricane, and so was the brigantine; and there you see how taut and neat she is aloft, as if nothing had happened!”
“And you saw us yesterday floating on the open sea, while a few ill-fastened spars kept us from going into its depths!”
“The spars floated, and you were not drowned; else, I should have wept bitterly, Eudora.”
“But thou wilt go deeper into the country, and see more of its beauties–its rivers, and its mountains –its caverns, and its woods. Here all is change, while the water is ever the same.”
“Surely, Eudora, you forget strangely!–Here it is all America. This mountain is America; yonder land across the bay is America, and the anchorage of yesterday was America. When we shall run off the coast, the next land-fall will be England, or Holland, or Africa; and with a good wind, we may run down the shores of two or three countries in a day.”