In this instance, it is not our task to record any of the
phenomena of the ocean, but a regular, though fierce gale
of wind. One of the first signs of its severity was the disappearance
of the passengers from the deck, one shutting
himself in his room after another, until none remained visible
but John Effingham and Paul Blunt. Both these gentlemen,
as it appeared, had made so many passages, and
had got to be so familiar with ships, that sea-sickness and
alarms were equally impotent as respects their constitutions
and temperaments.

The poor steerage-passengers were no exception, but they
stole for refuge into their dens, heartily repentant, for the
time being, at having braved the dangers and discomforts
of the sea. The gentle wife of Davis would now willingly
have returned to meet the resentment of her uncle; and as
for the bridegroom himself, as Mr. Leach, who passed
through this scene of abominations to see that all was
right, described him,—“Mr. Grab would not wring him
for a dish-cloth, if he could see him in his present pickle.”

Captain Truck chuckled a good deal at this account, for
he had much the same sympathy for ordinary cases of sea-sickness,
as a kitten feels in the agony of the first mouse it
has caught, and which it is sovereign pleasure to play
with, instead of eating.

“It serves him right, Mr. Leach, for getting married;

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and mind you don't fall into the same abuse of your opportunities,”
he said, with an air of self-satisfaction, while
comparing three or four cigars in the palm of his hand,
doubtful which of the fragrant plump rolls to put into his
mouth. “Getting married, Mr. Blunt, commonly makes a
man a fit subject for nausea, and nothing is easier than to
set the stomach-pump in motion in one of your bride-grooms;
is not this true as the gospel, Mr. John Effingham?”

Mr. John Effingham made no reply,—but the young man
who at the moment was admiring his fine form, and the
noble outline of his features, was singularly struck with the
bitterness, not to say anguish, of the smile with which he
bowed a cold assent. All this was lost on Captain Truck,
who proceeded con amore.

“One of the first things that I ask concerning my passengers
is, is he married? when the answer is `no,' I set
him down as a good companion in a gale like this, or
as one who can smoke, or crack a joke when a topsail is
flying out of a bolt-rope,—a companion for a category.
Now, if either of you gentlemen had a wife, she would have
you under hatches to-day, lest you should slip through a
scupperhole,—or be washed overboard with the spray,—or
have your eye-brows blown away in such a gale, and then
I should lose the honour of your company. Comfort is too
precious to be thrown away in matrimony. A man may
gain foreknowledge by a wife, but he loses free agency.
As for you, Mr. John Effingham, you must have coiled
away about half a century of life, and there is not much
to fear on your account; but Mr. Blunt is still young
enough to be in danger of a mishap. I wish Neptune
would come aboard of us, hereaway, and swear you to be
true and constant to yourself, young gentleman.”

Paul laughed, coloured slightly, and then rallying, he
replied in the same voice,

“At the risk of losing your good opinion, captain, and
even in the face of this gale, I shall avow myself an advocate
of matrimony.”

“If you will answer me one question, my dear sir, I
will tell you whether the case is or is not hopeless.”

[figure description] Page 126.[end figure description]

“In order to assent to this, you will of course see the
necessity of letting me know what the question is.”

“Have you made up your mind who the young woman
shall be? If that point is settled, I can only recommend
to you some of Joe Bunk's souchong, and advise you to
submit, for there is no resisting one's fate. The reason
your Turks yield so easily to predestination and fate, is the
number of their wives. Many a book is written to show
the cause of their submitting their necks so easily to the
sword and the bow-string. I've been in Turkey, gentlemen,
and know something of their ways. The reason of
their submitting so quietly to be beheaded is, that they are
always ready to hang themselves. How is the fact, sir?
have you settled upon the young lady in your own mind or
not?”

Although there was nothing in all this but the permitted
trifling of boon companions on ship-board, Paul Blunt received
it with an awkwardness one would hardly have expected
in a young man of his knowledge of the world. He
reddened, laughed, made an effort to throw the captain to
a greater distance by reserve, and in the end fairly gave up
the matter by walking to another part of the deck. Luckily,
the attention of the honest master was drawn to the
ship, at that instant, and Paul flattered himself he was unperceived;
but the shadow of a figure at his elbow startled
him, and turning quickly, he found Mr. John Effingham at
his side.

“Her mother was an angel,” said the latter huskily. “I
too love her; but it is as a father.”

“Sir!—Mr. Effingham!—These are sudden and unexpected
remarks, and such as I am not prepared for.”

“Do you think one as jealous of that fair creature as I,
could have overlooked your passion?—She is loved by
both of you, and she merits the warmest affection of a thousand.
Persevere, for while I have no voice, and, I fear,
little influence on her decision, some strange sympathy
causes me to wish you success. My own man told me that
you have met before, and with her father's knowledge, and
this is all I ask, for my kinsman is discreet. He probably
knows you, though I do not.”

The face of Paul glowed like fire, and he almost gasped

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for breath. Pitying his distress, Effingham smiled kindly,
and was about to quit him, when he felt his hand convulsively
grasped by those of the young man.

“Do not quit me, Mr. Effingham, I entreat you,” he said
rapidly; “it is so unusual for me to hear words of confidence,
or even of kindness, that they are most precious to
me! I have permitted myself to be disturbed by the random
remarks of that well-meaning, but unreflecting man;
but in a moment I shall be more composed—more manly—
less unworthy of your attention and pity.”

“Pity is a word I should never have thought of applying
to the person, character, attainments, or, as I hoped, fortunes
of Mr. Blunt; and I sincerely trust that you will acquit
me of impertinence. I have felt an interest in you,
young man, that I have long ceased to feel in most of my
species, and I trust this will be some apology for the liberty
I have taken. Perhaps the suspicion that you were anxious
to stand well in the good opinion of my little cousin was at
the bottom of it all.”

“Indeed you have not misconceived my anxiety, sir; for
who is there that could be indifferent to the good opinion of
one so simple and yet so cultivated; with a mind in which
nature and knowledge seem to struggle for the possession.
One, Mr. Effingham, so little like the cold sophistication
and heartlessness of Europe on the one hand, and the unformed
girlishness of America, on the other; one, in short,
so every way what the fondest father or the most sensitive
brother could wish.”

John Effingham smiled, for to smile at any weakness was
with him a habit; but his eye glistened. After a moment
of doubt, he turned to his young companion, and with a
delicacy of expression and a dignity of manner that none
could excel him in, when he chose, he put a question that
for several days had been uppermost in his thoughts, though
no fitting occasion had ever before offered, on which he
thought he might venture.

“This frank confidence emboldens me—one who ought
to be ashamed to boast of his greater experience, when
every day shows him to how little profit it has been turned,
to presume to render our acquaintance less formal, by alluding
to interests more personal than strangers have a right

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to touch on. You speak of the two parts of the world just
mentioned, in a way to show me you are equally acquainted
with both.”

“I have often crossed the ocean, and, for so young a
man, have seen a full share of their societies. Perhaps it
increases my interest in your lovely kinswoman, that, like
myself, she properly belongs to neither.”

“Be cautious how you whisper that in her ear, my youthful
friend; for Eve Effingham fancies herself as much
American in character as in birth. Single-minded and
totally without management,—devoted to her duties,—religious
without cant,—a warm friend of liberal institutions,
without the slightest approach to the impracticable, in heart
and soul a woman, you will find it hard to persuade her,
that with all her practice in the world, and all her extensive
attainments, she is more than a humble copy of her
own great beau idéal.”

Paul smiled, and his eyes met those of John Effingham—
the expression of both satisfied the parties that they
thought alike in more things than in their common admiration
of the subject of their discourse.

“I feel I have not been as explicit as I ought to be with
you, Mr. Effingham,” the young man resumed, after a
pause; “but on a more fitting occasion, I shall presume on
your kindness to be less reserved. My lot has thrown me
on the world, almost without friends, quite without relatives,
so far as intercourse with them is concerned; and I have
known little of the language or the acts of the affections.”

John Effingham pressed his hand, and from that time he
cautiously abstained from any allusion to his personal concerns;
for a suspicion crossed his mind that the subject was
painful to the young man. He knew that thousands of
well-educated and frequently of affluent people, of both
sexes, were to be found in Europe, to whom, from the circumstance
of having been born out of wedlock, through
divorces, or other family misfortunes, their private histories
were painful, and he at once inferred that some such event,
quite probably the first, lay at the bottom of Paul Blunt's
peculiar situation. Notwithstanding his warm attachment
to Eve, he had too much confidence in her own as well as
in her father's judgment, to suppose an acquaintance of any

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intimacy would be lightly permitted; and as to the mere
prejudices connected with such subjects, he was quite free
from them. Perhaps his masculine independence of character
caused him, on all such points, to lean to the side of
the ultra in liberality.

In this short dialogue, with the exception of the slight
though unequivocal allusion of John Effingham, both had
avoided any farther allusions to Mr. Sharp, or to his supposed
attachment to Eve. Both were confident of its existence,
and this perhaps was one reason why neither felt any
necessity to advert to it: for it was a delicate subject, and
one, under the circumstances, that they would mutually
wish to forget in their cooler moments. The conversation
then took a more general character, and for several hours
that day, while the rest of the passengers were kept below
by the state of the weather, these two were together, laying,
what perhaps it was now too late to term, the foundation
of a generous and sincere friendship. Hitherto Paul
had regarded John Effingham with distrust and awe, but
he found him a man so different from what report and his
own fancy had pictured, that the reaction in his feelings
served to heighten them, and to aid in increasing his respect.
On the other hand, the young man exhibited so much
modest good sense, a fund of information so much beyond
his years, such integrity and justice of sentiment, that when
they separated for the night, the old bachelor was full of
regret that nature had not made him the parent of such a
son.

All this time the business of the ship had gone on. The
wind increased steadily, until, as the sun went down, Captain
Truck announced it, in the cabin, to be a “regular-built
gale of wind.” Sail after sail had been reduced or furled,
until the Montauk was lying-to under her fore-sail, a close-reefed
main-top-sail, a fore-top-mast stay-sail, and a mizzen
stay-sail. Doubts were even entertained whether the second
of these sails would not have to be handed soon, and the
fore-sail itself reefed.

The ship's head was to the south-southwest, her drift
considerable, and her way of course barely sufficient to
cause her to feel her helm. The Foam had gained on her
several miles during the time sail could be carried; but she,

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also, had been obliged to heave-to, at the same increase of
the sea and wind as that which had forced Mr. Truck to
lash his wheel down. This state of things made a considerable
change in the relative positions of the two vessels
again; the next morning showing the sloop-of-war hull
down, and well on the weather-beam of the packet. Her
sharper mould and more weatherly qualities had done her
this service, as became a ship intended for war and the chase.

At all this, however, Captain Truck laughed. He could
not be boarded in such weather, and it was matter of indifference
where his pursuer might be, so long as he had
time to escape, when the gale ceased. On the whole, he
was rather glad than otherwise of the present state of things,
for it offered a chance to slip away to leeward as soon as
the weather would permit, if, indeed, his tormentor did not
altogether disappear in the northern board, or to windward.

The hopes and fears of the worthy master, however,
were poured principally into the ears of his two mates; for
few of the passengers were visible until the afternoon of the
second day of the gale; then, indeed, a general relief to
their physical suffering occurred, though it was accompanied
by apprehensions that scarcely permitted the change to be
enjoyed. About noon, on that day, the wind came with
such power, and the seas poured down against the bows of
the ship with a violence so tremendous, that it got to be
questionable whether she could any longer remain with
safety in her present condition. Several times in the course
of the morning, the waves had forced her bows off, and
before the ship could recover her position, the succeeding
billow would break against her broadside, and throw a flood
of water on her decks. This is a danger peculiar to lying-to
in a gale; for if the vessel get into the trough of the sea,
and is met in that situation by a wave of unusual magnitude,
she runs the double risk of being thrown on her beam-ends,
and of having her decks cleared of everything, by the
cataract of water that washes athwart them. Landsmen
entertain little notion of the power of the waters, when
driven before a tempest, and are often surprised, in reading
of naval catastrophes, at the description of the injuries done.
But experience shows that boats, hurricane-houses, guns,
anchors of enormous weight, bulwarks and planks, are even

[figure description] Page 131.[end figure description]

swept off into the ocean, in this manner, or are ripped up
from their fastenings.

The process of lying-to has a double advantage, so long
as it can be maintained, since it offers the strongest portion
of the vessel to the shock of the seas, and has the merit of
keeping her as near as possible to the desired direction.
But it is a middle course, being often adopted as an expedient
of safety when a ship cannot scud; and then, again,
it is abandoned for scudding when the gale is so intensely
severe that it becomes in itself dangerous. In nothing
are the high qualities of ships so thoroughly tried as in
their manner of behaving, as it is termed, in these moments
of difficulty; nor is the seamanship of the accomplished
officer so triumphantly established in any other part of his
professional knowledge, as when he has had an opportunity
of showing that he knows how to dispose of the vast weight
his vessel is to carry, so as to enable her mould to exhibit
its perfection, and on occasion to turn both to the best account.

Nothing will seem easier to a landsman than for a vessel
to run before the wind, let the force of the gale be what it
may. But his ignorance overlooks most of the difficulties,
nor shall we anticipate their dangers, but let them take their
places in the regular thread of the narrative.

Long before noon, or the hour mentioned, Captain Truck
foresaw that, in consequence of the seas that were constantly
coming on board of her, he should be compelled to
put his ship before the wind. He delayed the manœuvre
to the last moment, however, for what he deemed to be sufficient
reasons. The longer he kept the ship lying-to, the
less he deviated from his proper course to New York, and
the greater was the probability of his escaping, stealthily
and without observation from the Foam, since the latter, by
maintaining her position better, allowed the Montauk to
drift gradually to leeward, and, of course, to a greater distance.

But the crisis would no longer admit of delay. All hands
were called; the maintop-sail was hauled up, not without
much difficulty, and then Captain Truck reluctantly gave
the order to haul down the mizzen-staysail, to put the helm
hard up, and to help the ship round with the yards. This

[figure description] Page 132.[end figure description]

is at all times a critical change, as has just been mentioned,
for the vessel is exposed to the ravages of any sea, larger
than common, that may happen to strike her as she lies,
nearly motionless, with her broadside exposed to its force.
To accomplish it, therefore, Captain Truck went up a few
ratlines in the fore-rigging, (he was too nice a calculator to
offer even a surface as small as his own body to the wind,
in the after shrouds,) whence he looked out to windward
for a lull, and a moment when the ocean had fewer billows
than common of the larger and more dangerous kind. At
the desired instant he signed with his hand, and the wheel
was shifted from hard-down to hard-up.

This is always a breathless moment in a ship, for as none
can foresee the result, it resembles the entrance of a hostile
battery. A dozen men may be swept away in an instant,
or the ship herself hove over on her side. John Effingham
and Paul, who of all the passengers were alone on deck,
understood the hazards, and they watched the slightest
change with the interest of men who had so much at stake.
At first, the movement of the ship was sluggish, and such
as ill-suited the eagerness of the crew. Then her pitching
ceased, and she settled into the enormous trough bodily, or
the whole fabric sunk, as it were, never to rise again. So
low did she fall, that the fore-sail gave a tremendous flap;
one that shook the hull and spars from stem to stern. As
she rose on the next surge, happily its foaming crest slid
beneath her, and the tall masts rolled heavily to windward.
Recovering her equilibrium, the ship started through the
brine, and as the succeeding roller came on, she was urging
ahead fast. Still, the sea struck her abeam, forcing
her bodily to leeward, and heaving the lower yard-arms
into the ocean. Tons of water fell on her decks, with the
dull sound of the clod on the coffin. At this grand moment,
old Jack Truck, who was standing in the rigging, dripping
with the spray, that had washed over him, with a naked
head, and his grey hair glistening, shouted like a Stentor,
“Haul in your fore-braces, boys! away with the yard, like
a fiddlestick!” Every nerve was strained; the unwilling
yards, pressed upon by an almost irresistible column of air,
yielded slowly, and as the sail met the gale more perpendicularly,
or at right angles to its surface, it dragged the

[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]

vast hull through the sea with a power equal to that of a
steam-engine. Ere another sea could follow, the Montauk
was glancing through the ocean at a furious rate, and
though offering her quarter to the billows, their force was
now so much diminished by her own velocity, as to deprive
them of their principal danger.

The motion of the ship immediately became easy, though
her situation was still far from being without risk. No
longer compelled to buffet the waves, but sliding along in
their company, the motion ceased to disturb the systems
of the passengers, and ten minutes had not elapsed before
most of them were again on deck, seeking the relief of the
open air. Among the others was Eve, leaning on the arm
of her father.

It was a terrific scene, though one might now contemplate
it without personal inconvenience. The gentlemen
gathered around the beautiful and appalled spectatress of
this grand sight, anxious to know the effect it might produce
on one of her delicate frame and habits. She expressed
herself as awed, but not alarmed; for the habits
of dependence usually leave females less affected by fear,
in such cases, than those who, by their sex, are supposed
to be responsible.

“Mademoiselle Viefville has promised to follow me,” she
said, “and as I have a national claim to be a sailor, you
are not to expect hysterics or even ecstasies from me; but
reserve yourselves, gentlemen, for the Parisienne.”

The Parisienne, sure enough, soon came out of the hurricane-house,
with elevated hands, and eyes eloquent of
admiration, wonder and fear. Her first exclamations were
those of terror, and then turning a wistful look on Eve, she
burst into tears. “Ah, ceci est décisif!” she exclaimed.
“When we part, we shall be separated for life.”

“Then we will not part at all, my dear mademoiselle;
you have only to remain in America, to escape all future
inconveniences of the ocean. But forget the danger, and
admire the sublimity of this terrific panorama.”

Well might Eve thus term the scene. The hazards now
to be avoided were those of the ship's broaching-to, and of
being pooped. Nothing may seem easier, as has been
said, than to “sail before the wind,” the words having

[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]

passed into a proverb; but there are times when even a
favouring gale becomes prolific of dangers, that we shall
now briefly explain.

The velocity of the water, urged as it is before a tempest,
is often as great as that of the ship, and at such moments
the rudder is useless, its whole power being derived
from its action as a moving body against the element in
comparative repose. When ship and water move together,
at an equal rate, in the same direction, of course this power
of the helm is neutralized, and then the hull is driven much
at the mercy of the winds and waves. Nor is this all; the
rapidity of the billows often exceeds that of a ship, and
then the action of the rudder becomes momentarily reversed,
producing an effect exactly opposite to that which is desired.
It is true, this last difficulty is never of more than a few
moments' continuance, else indeed would the condition of
the mariner be hopeless; but it is of constant occurrence,
and so irregular as to defy calculations and defeat caution.
In the present instance, the Montauk would seem to fly
through the water, so swift was her progress; and then, as
a furious surge overtook her in the chase, she settled heavily
into the element, like a wounded animal, that, despairing
of escape, sinks helplessly in the grass, resigned to fate.
At such times the crests of the waves swept past her, like
vapour in the atmosphere, and one unpractised would be
apt to think the ship stationary, though in truth whirling
along in company with a frightful momentum.

It is scarcely necessary to say, that the process of scudding
requires the nicest attention to the helm, in order that
the hull may be brought speedily back to the right direction,
when thrown aside by the power of the billows; for,
besides losing her way in the caldron of water—an imminent
danger of itself—if left exposed to the attack of the
succeeding wave, her decks, at least, would be swept, even
should she escape a still more serious calamity.

Pooping is a hazard of another nature, and is also peculiar
to the process of scudding. It merely means the ship's
being overtaken by the waters while running from them,
when the crest of a sea, broken by the resistance, is thrown
inboard, over the taffrail or quarter. The term is derived
from the name of that particular portion of the ship. In

[figure description] Page 135.[end figure description]

order to avoid this risk, sail is carried on the vessel as long
as possible, it being deemed one of the greatest securities
of scudding, to force the hull through the water at the
greatest attainable rate. In consequence of these complicated
risks, ships that sail the fastest and steer the easiest,
scud the best. There is, however, a species of velocity that
becomes of itself a source of new danger; thus, exceedingly
sharp vessels have been known to force themselves
so far into the watery mounds in their front, and to receive
so much of the element on decks, as never to rise again.
This is a fate to which those who attempt to sail the American
clipper, without understanding its properties, are peculiarly
liable. On account of this risk, however, there was
now no cause of apprehension, the full-bowed, kettle-bottomed
Montauk being exempt from the danger; though
Captain Truck intimated his doubts whether the corvette
would like to brave the course he had himself adopted.

In this opinion, the fact would seem to sustain the master
of the packet; for when the night shut in, the spars of the
Foam were faintly discernible, drawn like spiders' webs on
the bright streak of the evening sky. In a few more minutes,
even this tracery, which resembled that of a magiclantern,
vanished from the eyes of those aloft; for it had
not been seen by any on deck for more than an hour.

The magnificent horrors of the scene increased with the
darkness. Eve and her companions stood supported by the
hurricane-house, watching it for hours, the supernatural-looking
light, emitted by the foaming sea, rendering the
spectacle one of attractive terror. Even the consciousness
of the hazards heightened the pleasure; for there was a
solemn and grand enjoyment mingled with it all, and the
first watch had been set an hour, before the party had resolution
enough to tear themselves from the sublime sight of
a raging sea.

CHAPTER XII.

[figure description] Page 136.[end figure description]

No one thought of seeking his berth when all the passengers
were below. Some conversed in broken, half intelligible
dialogues, a few tried unavailingly to read, and
more sat looking at each other in silent misgivings, as the
gale howled through the cordage and spars, or among the
angles and bulwarks of the ship. Eve was seated on a
sofa in her own apartment, leaning on the breast of her
father, gazing silently through the open doors into the forward
cabin; for all idea of retiring within oneself, unless
it might be to secret prayer, was banished from the mind.
Even Mr. Dodge had forgotten the gnawings of envy, his
philanthropical and exclusive democracy, and, what was
perhaps more convincing still of his passing views of this
sublunary world, his profound deference for rank, as betrayed
in his strong desire to cultivate an intimacy with Sir
George Templemore. As for the baronet himself, he sat
by the cabin-table with his face buried in his hands, and
once he had been heard to express a regret that he had
ever embarked.

Saunders broke the moody stillness of this characteristic
party, with preparations for a supper. He took but one
end of the table for his cloth, and a single cover showed
that Captain Truck was about to dine, a thing he had not
yet done that day. The attentive steward had an eye to
his commander's tastes; for it is not often one sees a better
garnished board than was spread on this occasion, so far at
least as quantity was concerned. Besides the usual solids
of ham, corned-beef, and roasted shoat, there were carcasses
of ducks, pickled oysters—a delicacy almost peculiar to

[figure description] Page 137.[end figure description]

America—and all the minor condiments of olives, anchovies,
dates, figs, almonds, raisins, cold potatoes, and puddings,
displayed in a single course, and arranged on the table
solely with regard to the reach of Captain Truck's arm.
Although Saunders was not quite without taste, he too well
knew the propensities of his superior to neglect any of these
important essentials, and great care was had, in particular,
so to dispose of everything as to render the whole so many
radii diverging from a common centre, which centre was
the stationary arm-chair that the master of the packet loved
to fill in his hours of ease.

“You will make many voyages, Mr. Toast,”—the steward
affectedly gave his subordinate, or as he was sometimes
facetiously called, the steward's mate, reason to understand,
when they had retired to the pantry to await the captain's
appearance—“before you accumulate all the niceties of a
gentleman's dinner. Every plat,” (Saunders had been in
the Havre line, where he had caught a few words of this
nature,) “every plat should be within reach of the convive's
arm, and particularly if it happen to be Captain Truck, who
has a great awersion to delays at his diet. As for the
entremets, they may be scattered miscellaneously with the
salt and the mustard, so that they can come with facility in
their proper places.”

“I don't know what an entremet is,” returned the subordinate,
“and I exceedingly desire, sir, to receive my orders
in such English as a gentleman can diwine.”

“An entremet, Mr. Toast, is a mouthful thrown in promiscuously
between the reliefs of the solids. Now, suppose
a gentleman begins on pig; when he has eaten enough
of this, he likes a little brandy and water, or a glass of
porter, before he cuts into the beef; and while I'm mixing
the first, or starting the cork, he refreshes himself with an
entremet, such as a wing of a duck, or perhaps a plate of
pickled oysters. You must know that there is great odds
in passengers; one set eating and jollifying, from the hour
we sail till the hour we get in, while another takes the ocean
as it might be sentimentally.”

“Sentimentally, sir! I s'pose those be they as uses the
basins uncommon?”

“That depends on the weather. I've known a party

[figure description] Page 138.[end figure description]

not eat as much as would set one handsome table in a week,
and then, when they conwalesced, it was intimidating how
they dewoured. It makes a great difference, too, whether
the passengers acquiesce well together or not, for agreeable
feelings give a fine appetite. Lovers make cheap passengers
always.”

“That is extr'or'nary, for I thought such as they was
always hard to please, with every thing but one another.”

“You never were more mistaken. I've seen a lover
who couldn't tell a sweet potato from an onion, or a canvas-back
from an old wife. But of all mortals in the way of
passengers, the bag-man or go-between is my greatest animosity.
These fellows will sit up all night, if the captain
consents, and lie abed next day, and do nothing but drink
in their berths. Now, this time we have a compliable set,
and on the whole, it is quite a condescension and pleasure
to wait on them.”

“Well, I think, Mr. Saunders, they isn't alike as much
as they might be nother.”

“Not more so than wenison and pig. Perfectly correct,
sir; for this cabin is a lobskous as regards deportment and
character. I set all the Effinghams down as tip-tops, or,
A No. 1, as Mr. Leach calls the ship; and then Mr. Sharp
and Mr. Blunt are quite the gentlemen. Nothing is easier,
Mr. Toast, than to tell a gentleman; and as you have set
up a new profession,—in which I hope, for the credit of the
colour, you will be prosperous,—it is well worth your while
to know how this is done, especially as you need never
expect much from a passenger, that is not a true gentleman,
but trouble. There is Mr. John Effingham, in particular;
his man says he never anticipates change, and if a coat
confines his arm, he repudiates it on the spot.”

“Well, it must be a satisfaction to serve such a companion.
I think Mr. Dodge, sir, quite a feller.”

“Your taste, Toast, is getting to be observable, and by
cultivating it, you will soon be remarkable for a knowledge
of mankind. Mr. Dodge, as you werry justly insinuate, is
not werry refined, or particularly well suited to figure in
genteel society.”

“And yet he seems attached to it, Mr. Saunders, for he

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has purposed to establish five or six societies since we
sailed.”

“Werry true, sir; but then every society is not genteel.
When we get back to New York, Toast, I must see and
get you into a better set than the one you occupied when
we sailed. You will not do yet for our circle, which is altogether
conclusive; but you might be elevated. Mr. Dodge
has been electioneering with me, to see if we cannot inwent
a society among the steerage-passengers for the abstinence
of liquors, and another for the perpetration of the morals
and religious principles of our forefathers. As for the first,
Toast, I told him it was sufficiently indurable to be confined
in a hole like the steerage, without being percluded from the
consolation of a little drink; and as for the last, it appeared
to me that such a preposition inwolwed an attack on liberty
of conscience.”

“There you give'd him, sir, quite as good as he sent,”
returned the steward's mate, chuckling, or perhaps sniggering
would be a word better suited to his habits of cachinnation,
“and I should have been glad to witness his confusion.
It seems to me, Mr. Saunders, that Mr. Dodge
loves to get up his societies in support of liberty and religion,
that he may predominate over both by his own
inwentions.”

Saunders laid his long yellow finger on the broad flat
nose of his mate, with an air of approbation, as he replied,

“Toast, you have hit his character as pat as I touch
your Roman. He is a man fit to make proselytes among
the wulgar and Irish,”—the Hibernian peasant and the
American negro are sworn enemies—“but quite unfit for
anything respectable or decent. Were it not for Sir George,
I would scarcely descend to clean his state-room.”

“What is your sentiments, Mr. Saunders, respecting Sir
George?”

“Why, Sir George is a titled gentleman, and of course
is not to be strictured too freely. He has complimented me
already with a sovereign, and apprised me of his intention
to be more particular when we get in.”

“I feel astonished such a gentleman should neglect to
insure a state-room to his own convenience.”

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“Sir George has elucidated all that in a conversation we
had in his room, soon after our acquaintance commenced.
He is going to Canada on public business, and sailed at an
hour's interval. He was too late for a single room, and his
own man is to follow with most of his effects by the next
ship. Oh! Sir George may be safely put down as respectable
and liberalized, though thrown into disparagement perhaps
by forty circumstances.”

Mr. Saunders, who had run his vocabulary hard in this
conversation, meant to say “fortuitous;” and Toast thought
that so many circumstances might well reduce a better man
to a dilemma. After a moment of thought, or what in his
orbicular shining features he fancied passed for thought, he
said,—

“I seem to diwine, Mr. Saunders, that the Effinghams
do not much intimate Sir George.”

Saunders looked out of the pantry-door to reconnoitre,
and finding the sober quiet already described reigning, he
opened a drawer, and drew forth a London newspaper.

“To treat you with the confidence of a gentleman in a
situation as respectable and responsible as the one you occupy,
Mr. Toast,” he said, “a little ewent has transpired in
my presence yesterday, that I thought sufficiently particular
to be designated by retaining this paper. Mr. Sharp and
Sir George happened to be in the cabin together, alone, and
the last, as it suggested to me, Toast, was desirous of removing
some of the haughter of the first, for you may have
observed that there has been no conversation between any
of the Effinghams, or Mr. Blunt, or Mr. Sharp, and the
baronet; and so to break the ice of his haughter, as it might
be, Sir George says, `Really, Mr. Sharp, the papers have
got to be so personally particular, that one cannot run into
the country for a mouthful of fresh air that they don't
record it. Now, I thought not a soul knew of my departure
for America, and yet here you see they have mentioned it,
with more particulars than are agreeable.' On concluding,
Sir George gave Mr. Sharp this paper, and indicated this here
paragraph. Mr. Sharp perused it, laid down the paper, and
retorted coldly, `It is indeed quite surprising, sir; but impudence
is a general fault of the age.' And then he left

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the cabin solus. Sir George was so wexed, he went into
his state-room and forgot the paper, which fell to the
steward, you know, on a principle laid down in Wattel,
Toast.”

Here the two worthies indulged in a smothered merriment
of their own at the expense of their commander; for
though a dignified man in general, Mr. Saunders could
laugh on occasion, and according to his own opinion of
himself he danced particularly well.

“Would you like to read the paragraph, Mr. Toast?”

“Quite unnecessary, sir; your account will be perfectly
legible and satisfactory.”

By this touch of politeness, Mr. Toast, who knew as
much of the art of reading as a monkey commonly knows
of mathematics, got rid of the awkwardness of acknowledging
the careless manner in which he had trifled with his
early opportunities. Luckily, Mr. Saunders, who had been
educated as a servant in a gentleman's family, was better
off, and as he was vain of all his advantages, he was particularly
pleased to have an opportunity of exhibiting them.
Turning to the paragraph he read the following lines, in
that sort of didactic tone and elaborate style with which
gentlemen who commence the graces after thirty are a little
apt to make bows:

“We understand Sir George Templemore, Bart., the
member for Boodleigh, is about to visit our American colonies,
with a view to make himself intimately acquainted
with the merits of the unpleasant questions by which they
are just now agitated, and with the intention of entering
into the debates in the house on that interesting subject on
his return. We believe that Sir George will sail in the
packet of the first from Liverpool, and will return in time
to be in his seat after the Easter holidays. His people and
effects left town yesterday by the Liverpool coach. During
the baronet's absence, his country will be hunted by Sir
Gervaise de Brush, though the establishment at Templemore
Hall will be kept up.”

“How came Sir George here, then?” Mr. Toast very
naturally inquired.

“Having been kept too late in London, he was obliged

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to come this way or to be left. It is sometimes as close
work to get the passengers on board, Mr. Toast, as to get
the people. I have often admired how gentlemen and ladies
love procrastinating, when dishes that ought to be taken
hot, are getting to be quite insipid and uneatable.”

“Saunders!” cried the hearty voice of Captain Truck,
who had taken possession of what he called his throne in
the cabin. All the steward's elegant diction and finish of
demeanour vanished at the well-known sound, and thrusting
his head out of the pantry-door, he gave the prompt
ship-answer to a call,

“Ay, ay, sir!”

“Come, none of your dictionary in the pantry there, but
show your physiognomy in my presence. What the devil
do you think Vattel would say to such a supper as this?”

“I think, sir, he would call it a werry good supper, for
a ship in a hard gale of wind. That's my honest opinion,
Captain Truck, and I never deceive any gentleman in a
matter of food. I think, Mr. Wattel would approve of that
there supper, sir.”

“Perhaps he might, for he has made blunders as well as
another man. Go, mix me a glass of just what I love,
when I've not had a drop all day. Gentlemen, will any of
you honour me, by sharing in a cut? This beef is not indigestible,
and here is a real Marylander, in the way of a
ham. No want of oakum to fill up the chinks with, either.”

Most of the gentlemen were too full of the gale to wish
to eat; besides they had not fasted like Captain Truck
since morning. But Mr. Monday, the bagman, as John
Effingham had termed him, and who had been often enough
at sea to know something of its varieties, consented to take
a glass of brandy and water, as a corrective of the Madeira
he had been swallowing. The appetite of Captain Truck
was little affected by the state of the weather, however; for
though too attentive to his duties to quit the deck until he
had ascertained how matters were going on, now that he
had fairly made up his mind to eat, he set about it with a
heartiness and simplicity that proved his total disregard of
appearances when his hunger was sharp. For some time
he was too much occupied to talk, making regular attacks

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upon the different plats, as Mr. Saunders called them,
without much regard to the cookery or the material. The
only pauses were to drink, and this was always done with
a steadiness that never left a drop in the glass. Still Mr.
Truck was a temperate man; for he never consumed more
than his physical wants appeared to require, or his physical
energies knew how to dispose of. At length, however,
he came to the steward's entrements, or he began to stuff
what he, himself, had called “oakum,” into the chinks of
his dinner.

Mr. Sharp had watched the whole process from the ladies'
cabin, as indeed had Eve, and thinking this a favourable
occasion to ascertain the state of things on deck, the former
came into the main-cabin, commissioned by the latter, to
make the inquiry.

“The ladies are desirous of knowing where we are, and
what is the state of the gale, Captain Truck,” said the gentleman,
when he had seated himself near the throne.

“My dear young lady,” called out the captain, by way
of cutting short the diplomacy of employing ambassadors
between them, “I wish in my heart I could persuade you
and Mademoiselle V. A. V., (for so he called the governess,
in imitation of Eve's pronunciation of her name,) to try a
few of these pickled oysters; they are as delicate as yourselves,
and worthy to be set before a mermaid, if there
were any such thing.”

“I thank you for the compliment, Captain Truck, and
while I ask leave to decline it, I beg leave to refer you to
the plenipotentiary Mademoiselle Viefville” (Eve would not
say herself) “has intrusted with her wishes.”

“Thus you perceive, sir,” interposed Mr. Sharp again,
“you will have to treat with me, by all the principles laid
down by Vattel.”

“And treat you, too, my good sir. Let me persuade
you to try a slice of this anti-abolitionist,” laying his knife
on the ham, which he still continued to regard himself with
a sort of melancholy interest. “No? well, I hold overpersuasion
as the next thing to neglect. I am satisfied, sir,
after all, as Saunders says, that Vattel himself, unless more
unreasonable at his grub than in matters of state, would be

[figure description] Page 144.[end figure description]

a happier man after he had been at his table twenty minutes,
than before he sat down.”

Mr. Sharp perceiving that it was idle to pursue his inquiry
while the other was in one of his discursive humours,
determined to let things take their course, and fell into the
captain's own vein.

“If Vattel would approve of the repast, few men ought
to repine at their fortune in being so well provided.”

“I flatter myself, sir, that I understand a supper, espepecially
in a gale of wind, as well as Mr. Vattel, or any
other man could do.”

“And yet Vattel was one of the most celebrated cooks
of his day.”

Captain Truck stared, looked his grave companion
steadily in the eye, for he was too much addicted to mystifying,
not to distrust others, and picked his teeth with
redoubled vigilance.

“Vattel a cook! This is the first I ever heard of it.”

“There was a Vattel, in a former age, who stood at the
head of his art as a cook; this I can assure you, on my
honour: he may not have been your Vattel, however.”

“Sir, there never were two Vattels. This is extraordinary
news to me, and I scarcely know how to receive it.”

“If you doubt my information, you may ask any of the
other passengers. Either of the Mr. Effinghams, or Mr.
Blunt, or Miss Effingham, or Mademoiselle Viefville will
confirm what I tell you, I think; especially the latter, for
he was her countryman.”

Hereupon Captain Truck began to stuff in the oakum
again, for the calm countenance of Mr. Sharp produced an
effect; and as he was pondering on the consequences of his
oracle's turning out to be a cook, he thought it not amiss to
be eating, as it were, incidentally. After swallowing a
dozen olives, six or eight anchovies, as many pickled oysters,
and raisins and almonds, as the advertisements say à
polonté, he suddenly struck his fist on the table, and announced
his intention of putting the question to both the
ladies.

“My dear young lady,” he called out, “will you do me
the honour to say whether you ever heard of a cook of the
name of Vattel?”

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