The instant the stranger had separated from the
credulous tailor, he lost his assumed air in one far
more natural and sedate. Still it would seem that
thought was an unwonted, or an unwelcome tenant
of his mind; for, switching his boot with his little

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

riding whip, he entered the principal street of the
place with a light step and a wandering eye. Though
his look was unsettled, few of the individuals, whom
he passed, escaped his quick glances; and it was
quite apparent, from the hurried manner in which
he began to regard objects, that his mind was not
less active than his body. A stranger thus accoutred,
and one bearing about his person so many evidences
of his recent acquaintance with the road, did not
fail to attract the attention of the provident publicans
we have had occasion to mention in our opening
chapter. Declining the civilities of the most favoured
of the inn-keepers, he suffered his steps to be,
oddly enough, arrested by the one whose house was
the usual haunt of the hangers-on of the port.

On entering the bar-room of this tavern, as it was
called, but which in the mother country would probably
have aspired to be termed no more than a pothouse,
he found the hospitable apartment thronged
with its customary revellers. A slight interruption
was produced by the appearance of a guest who was
altogether superior, in mien and attire, to the ordinary
customers of the house, but it ceased the moment
the stranger had thrown himself on a bench,
and intimated to the host the nature of his wants.
As the latter furnished the required draught, he made
a sort of apology, which was intended for the ears
of all his customers nigh the stranger, for the manner
in which an individual, in the further end of the long
narrow room, not only monopolized the discourse,
but appeared to extort the attention of all within
hearing to some portentous legend he was recounting.

“It is the boatswain of the slaver in the outer
harbour, squire,” the worthy disciple of Bacchus
concluded; “a man who has followed the water
many a day, and who has seen sights and prodigies
enough to fill a smart volume. Old Bor'us the

[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

people call him, though his lawful name is Jack Nightingale.
Is the toddy to the squire's relish?”

The stranger assented to the latter query, by
smacking his lips, and bowing, as he put down the
nearly untouched draught. He then turned his head,
to examine the individual who might, by the manner
in which he declaimed, have been termed, in
the language of the country, the second “orator of
the day.”

A stature which greatly exceeded six feet; enormous
whiskers, that quite concealed a moiety of his
grim countenance; a scar, which was the memorial
of a badly healed gash, that had once threatened to
divide that moiety in quarters; limbs in proportion;
the whole rendered striking by the dress of a seaman;
a long, tarnished silver chain, and a little
whistle of the same metal, served to render the individual
in question sufficiently remarkable. Without
appearing to be in the smallest degree aware of
the entrance of one altogether so superior to the class
of his usual auditors, this son of the Ocean continued
his narrative as follows, and in a voice that seemed
given to him by nature as if in very mockery of his
musical name; indeed, so very near did his tones
approach to the low murmurings of a bull, that some
little practice was necessary to accustom the ear to
the strangely uttered words.

“Well!” he continued, thrusting his brawny arm
forth, with the fist clenched, indicating the necessary
point of the compass by the thumb; “the coast
of Guinea might have lain hereaway, and the wind,
you see, was dead off shore, blowing in squalls, as a
cat spits, all the same as if the old fellow, who keeps
it bagged for the use of us seamen, sometimes let the
stopper slip through his fingers, and was sometimes
fetching it up again with a double turn round the
end of his sack.—You know what a sack is, brother?”

This abrupt question was put to the gaping

[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

bumpkin, already known to the reader, who, with the
nether garment just received from the tailor under
his arm, had lingered, to add the incidents of the
present legend to the stock of lore that he had already
obtained for the ears of his kinsfolk in the country.
A general laugh, at the expense of the admiring Pardon,
succeeded. Nightingale bestowed a knowing
wink on one or two of his familiars, and, profiting
by the occasion, “to freshen his nip,” as he quaintly
styled swallowing a pint of rum and water, he continued
his narrative by saying, in a sort of admonitory
tone,—

“And the time may come when you will know
what a round-turn is, too, if you let go your hold of
honesty. A man's neck was made, brother, to keep
his head above water, and not to be stretched out of
shape like a pair of badly fitted dead-eyes. Therefore,
have your reckoning worked up in season, and
the lead of conscience going, when you find yourself
drifting on the shoals of temptation.” Then, rolling
his tobacco in his mouth, he looked boldly about
him, like one who had acquitted himself of a moral
obligation, and continued: “Well, there lay the land,
and, as I was saying, the wind was here, at east-and-
by-south, or mayhap at east-and-by-south-half-south,
sometimes blowing like a fin-back in a hurry, and
sometimes leaving all the canvas chafing ag'in the
rigging and spars, as if a bolt of duck cost no more
nor a rich man's blessing. I didn't like the looks of
the weather, seeing that there was altogether too
much unsartainty for a quiet watch, so I walked aft,
in order to put myself in the way of giving an opinion,
if-so-be such a thing should be asked. You must
know, brothers, that, according to my notions of religion
and behaviour, a man is not good for much,
unless he has a fall share of manners; therefore I
am never known to put my spoon into the captain's
mess, unless I am invited, for the plain reason, that

[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]

my berth is for'ard, and his'n aft. I do not say in
which end of a ship the better man is to be found;
that is a matter concerning which men have different
opinions, though most judges in the business are
agreed. But aft I walked, to put myself in the way
of giving an opinion, if one should be asked; nor
was it long before the thing came to pass just as I
had foreseen. `Mister Nightingale,' says he; for
our Captain is a gentleman, and never forgets his
behaviour on deck, or when any of the ship's company
are at hand, `Mister Nightingale,' says he, `what
do you think of that rag of a cloud, hereaway at
the north-west?' says he. `Why, sir,' says I, boldly,
for I'm never backward in speaking, when properly
spoken to, so, `why, sir,' says I, `saving your Honour's
better judgment,'—which was all a flam, for he
was but a chicken to me in years and experience,
but then I never throw hot ashes to windward, or
any thing else that is warm—so, `sir,' says I, `it is my
advice to hand the three topsails and to stow the jib.
We are in no hurry; for the plain reason, that Guinea
will be to-morrow just where Guinea is to-night.
As for keeping the ship steady in these matters of
squalls, we have the mainsail on her—' ”

“You should have furl'd your mainsail too,” exclaimed
a voice from behind, that was quite as dogmatical,
though a little less grum, than that of the
loquacious boatswain.

“What know-nothing says that?” demanded
Nightingale fiercely, as if all his latent ire was excited
by so rude and daring an interruption.

“A man who has run Africa down, from Bon to
Good-Hope, more than once, and who knows a white
squall from a rainbow,” returned Dick Fid, edging
his short person stoutly towards his furious adversary,
making his way through the crowd by which the
important personage of the boatswain was environed,
by dint of his massive shoulders; “ay, brother,

[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

and a man, know-much or know-nothing, who would
never advise his officer to keep so much after-sail on
a ship, when there was the likelihood of the wind
taking her aback.”

To this bold vindication of an opinion which all
present deemed to be so audacious, there succeeded
a general and loud murmur. Encouraged by this
evidence of his superior popularity, Nightingale was
not slow, nor very meek, with his retort; and then
followed a clamorous concert, in which the voices
of the company in general served for the higher and
shriller notes, through which the bold and vigorous
assertions, contradictions, and opinions of the two
principal disputants were heard running a thoroughbass.

For some time, no part of the discussion was very
distinct, so great was the confusion of tongues; and
there were certain symptoms of an intention, on the
part of Fid and the boatswain, to settle their controversy
by the last appeal. During this moment of
suspense, the former had squared his firm-built frame
in front of his gigantic opponent, and there were
very vehement passings and counter-passings, in the
way of gestures from four athletic arms, each of
which was knobbed, like a fashionable rattan, with
a lump of bones, knuckles, and sinews, that threatened
annihilation to any thing that should oppose
them. As the general clamour, however, gradually
abated, the chief reasoners began to be heard; and,
as if content to rely on their respective powers of
eloquence, each gradually relinquished his hostile
attitude, and appeared disposed to maintain his ground
by a member scarcely less terrible than his brawny
arm.

“You are a bold seaman, brother,” said Nightingale,
resuming his seat, “and, if saying was doing,
no doubt you would make a ship talk. But I, who
have seen fleets of two and three deckers—and that

[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

of all nations, except your Mohawks, mayhap, whose
cruisers I will confess never to have fallen in with—
lying as snug as so many white gulls, under reefed
mainsails, know how to take the strain off a ship,
and to keep my bulkheads in their places.”

“I deny the judgment of heaving-to a boat under
her after square-sails,” retorted Dick. “Give her
the staysails, if you will, and no harm done; but a
true seaman will never get a bagful of wind between
his mainmast and his lee-swifter, if-so-be he knows
his business. But words are like thunder, which
rumbles alo&longs;t, without coming down a spar, as I have
yet seen; let us therefore put the question to some
one who has been on the water, and knows a little
of life and of ships.”

“If the oldest admiral in his Majesty's fleet was
here, he wouldn't be backward in saying who is right
and who is wrong. I say, brothers, if there is a man
among you all who has had the advantage of a sea
education, let him speak, in order that the truth of
this matter may not be hid, like a marlingspike jammed
between a brace-block and a blackened yard.”

“Here, then, is the man,” returned Fid; and,
stretching out his arm, he seized Scipio by the collar,
and drew him, without ceremony, into the centre of
the circle, that had opened around the two disputants.
“There is a man for you, who has made one
more voyage between this and Africa than myself,
for the reason that he was born there. Now, answer
as if you were hallooing from a lee-earing, S'ip, under
what sail would you heave-to a ship, on the coast
of your native country, with the danger of a white
squall at hand?”

“I no heave-'em-to,” said the black, “I make 'em
scud.”

“Ay, boy; but, to be in readiness for the puff,
would you jam her up under a mainsail, or let her
lie a little off under a fore course?”

[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

“Any fool know dat,” returned Scipio, grumly,
and evidently tired already of being thus catechised.

“If you want 'em fall off, how you'm expect, in
reason, he do it under a main course? You answer
me dat, misser Dick.”

“Gentlemen,” said Nightingale, looking about him
with an air of great gravity, “I put it to your Honours,
is it genteel behaviour to bring a nigger, in this
out-of-the-way fashion, to give an opinion in the teeth
of a white man?”

This appeal to the wounded dignity of the company
was answered by a common murmur. Scipio,
who was prepared to maintain, and would have
maintained, his professional opinion, after his positive
and peculiar manner, against any disputant, had
not the heart to resist so general an evidence of the
impropriety of his presence. Without uttering a
word in vindication or apology, he folded his arms,
and walked out of the house, with the submission
and meekness of one who had been too long trained
in humility to rebel. This desertion on the part of
his companion was not, however, so quietly acquiesced
in by Fid, who found himself thus unexpectedly
deprived of the testimony of the black. He loudly
remonstrated against his retreat; but, finding it in
vain, he crammed the end of several inches of tobacco
into his mouth, swearing, as he followed the
African, and keeping his eye, at the same time, firmly
fastened on his adversary, that, in his opinion,
“the lad, if he was fairly skinned, would be found
to be the whiter man of the two.”

The triumph of the boatswain was now complete;
nor was he at all sparing of his exultation.

“Gentlemen,” he said, addressing himself, with
an air of increased confidence, to the motley audience
who surrounded him, “you see that reason is like a
ship bearing down with studding-sails on both sides,
leaving a straight wake and no favours. Now, I

[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]

scorn boasting, nor do I know who the fellow is who
has just sheered off, in time to save his character,
but this I will say, that the man is not to be found,
between Boston and the West Indies, who knows
better than myself how to make a ship walk, or how
to make her stand still, provided I”—

The deep voice of Nightingale became suddenly
hushed, and his eye was riveted, by a sort of enchantment,
on the keen glance of the stranger in
green, whose countenance was now seen blended
among the more vulgar faces of the crowd.

“Mayhap,” continued the boatswain, swallowing
his words, in the surprise of seeing himself so unexpectedly
confronted by so imposing an eye, “mayhap
this gentleman has some knowledge of the sea,
and can decide the matter in dispute.”

“We do not study naval tactics at the universities,”
returned the other briskly, though I will confess, from
the little I have heard, I am altogether in favour of
scudding.”

He pronounced the latter word with an emphasis
which rendered it questionable if he did not mean to
pun; the more especially as he threw down his reckoning,
and instantly left the field to the quiet possession
of Nightingale. The latter, after a short pause,
resumed his narrative, though, either from weariness
or some other cause, it was observed that his voice
was far less positive than before, and that his tale
was cut prematurely short. After completing his
narrative and his grog, he staggered to the beach,
whither a boat was shortly after despatched to convey
him on board the ship, which, during all this
time, had not ceased to be the constant subject of
the suspicious examination of the good-man Home-spun.

In the mean while, the stranger in green had pursued
his walk along the main street of the town. Fid
had given chase to the disconcerted Scipio,

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

grumbling as he went, and uttering no very delicate remarks
on the knowledge and seamanship of the boat-swain.
They soon joined company again, the former
changing his attack to the negro, whom he liberally
abused, for abandoning a point which he
maintained was as simple, and as true, as “that yonder
bit of a schooner would make more way, going
wing-and-wing, than jammed up on a wind.”

Probably diverted with the touches of peculiar
character he had detected in this singular pair of
confederates, or possibly led by his own wayward
humour, the stranger followed their footsteps. After
turning from the water, they mounted a hill, the latter
a little in the rear of his pilots, until he lost sight
of them in a bend of the street, or rather road; for,
by this time, they were past even the little suburbs
of the town. Quickening his steps, the barrister, as
he had announced himself to be, was glad to catch
a glimpse of the two worthies, seated under a fence
several minutes after he had believed them lost.
They were making a frugal meal, off the contents of
a little bag which the white had borne under his arm,
and from which he now dispensed liberally to his
companion, who had taken his post sufficiently nigh
to proclaim that perfect amity was restored, though
still a little in the back ground, in deference to the
superior condition which the other enjoyed through
favour of his colour. Approaching the spot, the
stranger observed,—

“If you make so free with the bag, my lads, your
third man may have to go supperless to bed.”

“Who hails?” said Dick, looking up from his
bone, with an expression much like that of a mastiff
when engaged at a similar employment.

“I merely wished to remind you that you had
another messmate,” cavalierly returned the other.

“Will you take a cut, brother?” said the seaman,
offering the bag, with the liberality of a sailor, the

[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

moment he fancied there was an indirect demand
made on its contents.

“You still mistake my meaning; on the wharf you
had another companion.”

“Ay, ay; he is in the offing there, overhauling
that bit of a light-house, which is badly enough moored,
unless they mean it to shew the channel to your
ox-teams and inland traders; hereaway, gentlemen,
where you see that pile of stones which seems likely
to be coming down shortly by-the-run.”

The stranger looked in the direction indicated by
the other, and saw the young mariner, to whom he
had alluded, standing at the foot of a ruined tower,
which was crumbling under the slow operations of
time, at no great distance from the place where he
stood. Throwing a handful of small change to the
seamen, he wished them a better meal, and crossed
the fence, with an apparent intention of examining
the ruin also.

“The lad is free with his coppers,” said Dick,
suspending the movements of his teeth, to give the
stranger another and a better look; “but, as they
will not grow where he has planted them, S'ip, you
may turn them over to my pocket. An off-handed
and a free-handed chap that, Africa; but then these
law-dealers get all their pence of the devil, and they
are sure of more, when the shot begins to run low
in the locker.”

Leaving the negro to collect the money, and to
transfer it, as in duty bound, to the hands of him
who, if not his master, was at all times ready and
willing to exercise the authority of one, we shall
follow the stranger in his walk toward the tottering
edifice. There was little about the ruin itself to attract
the attention of one who, from his assertions,
had probably often enjoyed the opportunities of examining
far more imposing remains of former ages,
on the other side of the Atlantic. It was a small

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

circular tower, which stood on rude pillars, connected
by arches, and might have been constructed, in
the infancy of the country, as a place of defence,
though it is far more probable that it was a work
of a less warlike nature. More than half a century
after the period of which we are writing, this little
edifice, peculiar in its form, its ruinous condition,
and its materials, has suddenly become the study
and the theme of that very learned sort of individual,
the American antiquarian. It is not surprising
that a ruin thus honoured should have become the
object of many a hot and erudite discussion. While
the chivalrous in the arts and in the antiquities of
the country have been gallantly breaking their lances
around the mouldering walls, the less instructed and
the less zealous have regarded the combatants with
the same species of wonder as they would have manifested
had they been present when the renowned
knight of La Mancha tilted against those other wind-mills,
so ingeniously described by the immortal Cervantes.

On reaching the place, the stranger in green gave
his boot a smart blow with the riding whip, as if to
attract the attention of the abstracted young sailor,
and freely remarked,—

“A very pretty object this would be, if covered
with ivy, to be seen peeping through an opening in
a wood. But I beg pardon; gentlemen of your profession
have little to do with woods and crumbling
stones. Yonder is the tower,” pointing to the tall
masts of the ship in the outer harbour, “you love to
look on; and your only ruin is a wreck!”

“You seem familiar with our tastes, sir,” coldly
returned the other.

“It is by instinct, then; for it is certain I have
had but little opportunity of acquiring my knowledge
by actual communion with any of the—cloth; nor
do I perceive that I am likely to be more fortunate

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

at present. Let us be frank, my friend, and talk in
amity: What do you see about this pile of stones,
that can keep you so long from your study of yonder
noble and gallant ship?”

“Did it then surprise you that a seaman out of
employment should examine a vessel that he finds
to his mind, perhaps with an intention to ask for
service?”

“Her commander must be a dull fellow, if he refuse
it to so proper a lad! But you seem to be too
well instructed for any of the meaner births.”

“Births!” repeated the other, again fastening his
eyes, with a singular expression, on the stranger in
green.

“Births! It is your nautical word for `situation,'
or `station;' is it not? We know but little of the
marine vocabulary, we barristers; but I think I may
venture on that as the true Doric. Am I justified by
your authority?”

“The word is certainly not yet obsolete; and, by
a figure, it is as certainly correct in the sense you
used it.”

“Obsolete!” repeated the stranger in green, returning
the meaning look he had just received: “Is
that the name of any part of a ship? Perhaps, by
figure, you mean figure-head; and, by obsolete, the
long-boat!”

The young seaman laughed; and, as if this sally
had broken through the barrier of his reserve, his
manner lost much of its cold restraint during the remainder
of their conference.

“It is just as plain,” he said, “that you have been
at sea, as it is that I have been at school. Since we
have both been so fortunate, we may afford to be generous,
and cease speaking in parables. For instance,
what think you has been the object and use of this
ruin, when it was in good condition?”

“In order to judge of that,” returned the stranger

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

in green, “it may be necessary to examine it more
closely. Let us ascend.”

As he spoke, the barrister mounted, by a crazy
ladder, to the floor which lay just above the crown of
the arches, through which he passed by an open trap-door.
His companion hesitated to follow; but, observing
that the other expected him at the summit
of the ladder, and that he very kindly pointed out a
defective round, he sprang forward, and went up the
ascent with the agility and steadiness peculiar to his
calling.

“Here we are!” exclaimed the stranger in green,
looking about at the naked walls, which were formed
of such small and irregular stones as to give the
building the appearance of dangerous frailty, “with
good oaken plank for our deck, as you would say,
and the sky for our roof, as we call the upper part
of a house at the universities. Now let us speak of
things on the lower world. A—a—; I forget what
you said was your usual appellation—”

“That might depend on circumstances. I have
been known by different names in different situations.
However, if you call me Wilder, I shall not
fail to answer.”

“Wilder!” a good name; though, I dare say, it
would have been as true were it Wildone. You
young ship-boys have the character of being a little
erratic in your humours at times. How many tender
hearts have you left to sigh for your errors, amid
shady bowers, while you have been ploughing—that
is the word, I believe—ploughing the salt-sea ocean?”

“Few sigh for me,” returned Wilder, thoughtfully,
though he evidently began to chafe a little under
this free sort of catechism. “Let us now return to
our study of the tower. What think you has been
its object?”

“Its present use is plain, and its former use can
be no great mystery. It holds at this moment two

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

light hearts; and, if I am not mistaken, as many light
heads, not overstocked with the stores of wisdom.
Formerly it had its granaries of corn, at least, and, I
doubt not, certain little quadrupeds, who were quite
as light of fingers as we are of head and heart. In
plain English, it has been a mill.”

“There are those who think it had been a fortress.”

“Hum! The place might do, at need,” returned
he in green, casting a rapid and peculiar glance
around him. “But mill it has been, not withstanding
one might wish it a nobler origin. The windy situation,
the pillars to keep off the invading vermin,
the shape, the air, the very complexion, prove it.
Whir-r-r, whir-r-r; there has been clatter enough
here in time past, I warrant you. Hist! It is not
done yet!”

Stepping lightly to one of the little perforations
which had once served as windows to the tower, he
cautiously thrust his head through the opening; and,
after gazing there half a minute, he withdrew it again,
making a gesture to the attentive Wilder to be silent.
The latter complied; nor was it long before the nature
of the interruption was sufficiently explained.

The silvery voice of woman was first heard at a
little distance; and then, as the speakers drew nigher,
the sounds arose directly from beneath, within
the very shadow of the tower. By a sort of tacit
consent, Wilder and the barrister chose spots favourable
to the execution of such a purpose; and each
continued, during the time the visiters remained near
the ruin, examining their persons, unseen themselves,
and we are sorry we must do so much violence to
the breeding of two such important characters in our
legend, amused and attentive listeners also to their
conversation.

CHAPTER IV.

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

The party below consisted of four individuals, all
of whom were females. One was a lady in the decline
of her years; another was past the middle age;
the third was on the very threshold of what is called
“life,” as it is applied to intercourse with the world;
and the fourth was a negress, who might have seen
some five-and-twenty revolutions of the seasons.
The latter, at that time, and in that country, of course
appeared only in the character of a humble, though
perhaps favoured domestic.

“And now, my child, that I have given you all
the advice which circumstances and your own excellent
heart need,” said the elderly lady, among
the first words that were distinctly intelligible to the
listeners, “I will change the ungracious office to one
more agreeable. You will tell your father of my
continued affection, and of the promise he has given,
that you are to return once again, before we separate
for the last time.”

This speech was addressed to the younger female,
and was apparently received with as much tenderness
and sincerity as it was uttered. The one who
was addressed raised her eyes, which were glittering
with tears she evidently struggled to conceal, and
answered in a voice that sounded in the ears of the
two youthful listeners like the notes of the Syren, so
very sweet and musical were its tones.

“It is useless to remind me of a promise, my beloved
aunt, which I have so much interest in remembering,”
she said. “I hope for even more than you
have perhaps dared to wish; if my father does not
return with me in the spring, it shall not be for want
of urging on my part.”

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

“Our good Wyllys will lend her aid,” returned
the aunt, smiling and bowing to the third female,
with that mixture of suavity and form which was
peculiar to the stately manners of the time, and
which was rarely neglected, when a superior addressed
an inferior. “She is entitled to command
some interest with General Grayson, from her fidelity
and services.

“She is entitled to every thing that love and heart
can give!” exclaimed the niece, with a haste and
earnestness that proclaimed how willingly she would
temper the formal politeness of the other by the
warmth of her own affectionate manner; “my father
will scarcely refuse her any thing.”

“And have we the assurance of Mrs Wyllys that
she will be in our interests?” demanded the aunt,
without permitting her own sense of propriety to be
overcome by the stronger feelings of her niece;
“with so powerful an ally, our league will be invincible.”

“I am so entirely of opinion, that the salubrious
air of this healthful island is of great importance
to my young charge, Madam, that, were all other
considerations wanting, the little I can do to aid your
wishes shall be sure to be done.”

Wyllys spoke with dignity, and perhaps with some
portion of that reserve which distinguished all the
communications between the wealthy and high-born
aunt and the salaried and dependent governess of
her brother's heiress. Still her manner was gentle,
and the voice, like that of her pupil, soft and strikingly
feminine.

“We may then consider the victory as achieved,
as my late husband the Rear-Admiral was accustomed
to say. Admiral de Lacey, my dear Mrs Wyllys,
adopted it in early life as a maxim, by which all his
future conduct was governed, and by adhering to
which he acquired no small share of his professional

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

reputation, that, in order to be successful, it was only
necessary to be determined one would be so;—a
noble and inspiriting rule, and one that could not fail
to lead to those signal results which, as we all know
them, I need not mention.”

Wyllys bowed her head, in acknowledgment of the
truth of the opinion, and in testimony of the renown
of the deceased Admiral; but did not think it necessary
to make any reply. Instead of allowing the
subject to occupy her mind any longer, she turned
to her young pupil, and observed, speaking in a voice
and with a manner from which every appearance of
restraint was banished,—

“Gertrude, my love, you will have pleasure in
returning to this charming island, and to these cheering
sea breezes.”

“And to my aunt!” exclaimed Gertrude. “I wish
my father could be persuaded to dispose of his estates
in Carolina, and come northward, to reside the whole
year.”

“It is not quite as easy for an affluent proprietor
to remove as you may imagine, my child,” returned
Mrs de Lacey. “Much as I wish that some such
plan could be adopted, I never press my brother on
the subject. Besides, I am not certain, that, if we
were ever to make another change in the family, it
would not be to return home altogether. It is now
more than a century, Mrs Wyllys, since the Graysons
came into the colonies, in a moment of dissatisfaction
with the government in England. My great-grandfather,
sir Everard, was displeased with his second
son, and the dissension led my grandfather to the
province of Carolina. But, as the breach has long
since been healed, I often think my brother and myself
may yet return to the halls of our ancestors.
Much will, however, depend on the manner in which
we dispose of our treasure on this side of the Atlantic.”

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

As the really well-meaning, though, perhaps, a
little too much self-satisfied lady concluded her remark,
she glanced her eye at the perfectly unconscious
subject of the close of her speech. Gertrude
had, as usual, when her aunt chose to favour her
governess with any of her family reminiscences,
turned her head aside, and was now offering her
cheek, burning with health, and perhaps a little with
shame, to the cooling influence of the evening breeze.
The instant the voice of Mrs de Lacey had ceased,
she turned hastily to her companions; and, pointing
to a noble-looking ship, whose masts, as it lay in the
inner harbour, were seen rising above the roofs of
the town, she exclaimed, as if glad to change the
subject in any manner,—

“And yonder gloomy prison is to be our home,
dear Mrs Wyllys, for the next month!”

“I hope your dislike to the sea has magnified the
time,” mildly returned her governess; “the passage
between this place and Carolina has been often made
in a shorter period.”

“That it has been so done, I can testify,” resumed
the Admiral's widow, adhering a little pertinaciously
to a train of thoughts, which, once thoroughly
awakened in her bosom, was not easily diverted into
another channel, “since my late estimable and (I
feel certain all who hear me will acquiesce when I
add) gallant husband once conducted a squadron of
his Royal Master, from one extremity of his Majesty's
American dominions to the other, in a time less than
that named by my niece: It may have made some
difference in his speed that he was in pursuit of the
enemies of his King and country, but still the fact
proves that the voyage can be made within the
month.”

“There is that dreadful Henlopen, with its sandy
shoals and shipwrecks on one hand, and that stream

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

they call the Gulf on the other!” exclaimed Gertrude,
with a shudder, and a burst of natural female
terror, which makes timidity sometimes attractive,
when exhibited in the person of youth and beauty.
“If it were not for Henlopen, and its gales, and its
shoals, and its gulfs, I could think only of the pleasure
of meeting my father.”

Mrs Wyllys, who never encouraged her pupil in
those natural weaknesses, however pretty and becoming
they might appear to other eyes, turned with
a steady mien to the young lady, as she remarked,
with a brevity and decision that were intended to put
the question of fear at rest for ever,—

“If all the dangers you appear to apprehend existed
in reality, the passage would not be made daily,
or even hourly, in safety. You have often, Madam,
come from the Carolinas by sea, in company with
Admiral de Lacey?”

“Never,” the widow promptly and a little drily
remarked. “The water has not agreed with my
constitution, and I have never neglected to journey
by land. But then you know, Wyllys, as the consort
and relict of a flag-officer, it was not seemly
that I should be ignorant of naval science. I believe
there are few ladies in the British empire who are
more familiar with ships, either singly or in squadron,
particularly the latter, than myself. This information
I have naturally acquired, as the companion
of an officer, whose fortune it was to lead fleets.
I presume these are matters of which you are profoundly
ignorant.”

The calm, dignified countenance of Wyllys, on
which it would seem as if long cherished and painful
recollections had left a settled, but mild expression
of sorrow, that rather tempered than destroyed the
traces of character which were still remarkable in
her firm collected eye, became clouded, for a

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

moment, with a deeper shade of melancholy. After
hesitating, as if willing to change the subject, she
replied,—

“I have not been altogether a stranger to the sea.
It has been my lot to have made many long, and
some perilous voyages.”

“As a mere passenger. But we wives of sailors
only, among our sex, can lay claim to any real
knowledge of the noble profession! What natural
object is there, or can there be,” exclaimed the nautical
dowager, in a burst of professional enthusiasm,
“finer than a stately ship breasting the billows, as I
have heard the Admiral say a thousand times, its
taffrail ploughing the main, and its cut-water gliding
after, like a sinuous serpent pursuing its shining
wake, as a living creature choosing its path on the
land, and leaving the bone under its fore-foot, a beacon
for those that follow? I know not, my dear
Wyllys, if I make myself intelligible to you, but, to
my instructed eye, this charming description conveys
a picture of all that is grand and beautiful!”

The latent smile, on the countenance of the governess,
might have betrayed that she was imagining
the deceased Admiral had not been altogether devoid
of the waggery of his vocation, had not a slight noise,
which sounded like the rustling of the wind, but
which in truth was suppressed laughter, proceeded
from the upper room of the tower. The words, “It
is lovely!” were still on the lips of the youthful
Gertrude, who saw all the beauty of the picture her
aunt had essayed to describe, without descending to
the humble employment of verbal criticism. But
her voice became hushed, and her attitude that of
startled attention:—

“Did you hear nothing?” she said.

“The rats have not yet altogether deserted the
mill,” was the calm reply of Wyllys.

[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

“Mill! my dear Mrs Wyllys, will you persist in
calling this picturesque ruin a mill?”

“However fatal it may be to its charms, in the
eyes of eighteen, I must call it a mill.”

“Ruins are not so plenty in this country, my dear
governess,” returned her pupil, laughing, while the
ardour of her eye denoted how serious she was in
defending her favourite opinion, “as to justify us in
robbing them of any little claims to interest they may
happen to possess.”

“Then, happier is the country! Ruins in a land
are, like most of the signs of decay in the human
form, sad evidences of abuses and passions, which
have hastened the inroads of time. These provinces
are like yourself, my Gertrude, in their freshness and
their youth, and, comparatively, in their innocence
also. Let us hope for both a long, an useful, and a
happy existence.”

“Thank you for myself, and for my country; but
still I can never admit this picturesque ruin has been
a mill.”

“Whatever it may have been, it has long occupied
its present place, and has the appearance of continuing
where it is much longer, which is more than can
be said of our prison, as you call yonder stately ship,
in which we are so soon to embark. Unless my eyes
deceive me, Madam, those masts are moving slowly
past the chimnies of the town.”

“You are very right, Wyllys. The seamen are
towing the vessel into the outer harbour, where they
will warp her fast to the anchors, and thus secure
her, until they shall be ready to unmake their sails,
in order to put to sea in the morning. This is a
manœuvre often performed, and one which the Admiral
has so clearly explained, that I should find little
difficulty in superintending it in my own person,
were it suitable to my sex and station.”

[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

“This is, then, a hint that all our own preparations
are not completed. However lovely this spot
may seem, Gertrude, we must now leave it, for some
months at least.”

“Yes,” continued Mrs de Lacey, slowly following
the footsteps of the governess, who had already moved
from beneath the ruin; “whole fleets have often
been towed to their anchors, and there warped, waiting
for wind and tide to serve. None of our sex
know the dangers of the Ocean, but we who have
been bound in the closest of all ties to officers of
rank and great service; and none others can ever
truly enjoy the real grandeur of the ennobling profession.
A charming object is a vessel cutting the
waves with her taffrail, and chasing her wake on the
trackless waters, like a courser that ever keeps in
his path, though dashing madly on at the very top of
his speed!—”

The reply of Mrs Wyllys was not audible to the
covert listeners. Gertrude had followed her companions;
but, when at some little distance from the
tower, she paused, to take a parting look at its mouldering
walls. A profound stillness succeeded for
more than a minute.

“There is something in that pile of stones, Cassandra,”
she said to the jet-black maiden at her elbow,
“that could make me wish it had been something
more than a mill.”

“There rat in 'em,” returned the literal and simple-minded
black; “you hear what Misse Wyllys
say?”

Gertrude turned, laughed, patted the dark cheek
of her attendant, with fingers that looked like snow
by the contrast, as if to chide her for wishing to destroy
the pleasing illusion she would so gladly harbour,
and then bounded down the hill after her aunt
and governess, like a joyous and youthful Atalanta.

The two singularly consorted listeners in the

[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]

tower stood gazing, at their respective look-outs, so long
as the smallest glimpse of the flowing robe of her
light form was to be seen; and then they turned to
each other, and stood confronted, the eyes of each
endeavouring to read the expression of his neighbour's
countenance.

“I am ready to make an affidavit before my Lord
High Chancellor,” suddenly exclaimed the barrister,
“that this has never been a mill!”

“Your opinion has undergone a sudden change!”

“I am open to conviction, as I hope to be a judge.
The case has been argued by a powerful advocate,
and I have lived to see my error.”

“And yet there are rats in the place.”

“Land rats, or water rats?” quickly demanded
the other, giving his companion one of those startling
and searching glances, which his keen eye had so
freely at command.

“Both, I believe,” was the dry and caustic reply;
“certainly the former, or the gentlemen of the long
robe are much injured by report.”

The barrister laughed; nor did his temper appear
in the slightest degree ruffled at so free an allusion at
his learned and honourable profession.

“You gentlemen of the Ocean have such an honest
and amusing frankness about you,” he said, “that
I vow to God you are overwhelming. I am a down-right
admirer of your noble calling, and something
skilled in its terms. What spectacle, for instance,
can be finer than a noble ship `stemming the waves
with her taffrail,' and chasing her wake, like a racer
on the course!”

“Leaving the `bone in her mouth' under her stern,
as a light-house for all that come after!”

Then, as if they found singular satisfaction in
dwelling on these images of the worthy relict of the
gallant Admiral, they broke out simultaneously into
a fit of clamorous merriment, that caused the old

[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]

ruin to ring, as in its best days of windy power. The
barrister was the first to regain his self-command, for
the mirth of the young mariner was joyous, and
without the least restraint.

“But this is dangerous ground for any but a seaman's
widow to touch,” the former observed, as suddenly
causing his laughter to cease as he had admitted
of its indulgence. “The younger, she who is no
lover of a mill, is a rare and lovely creature! it
would seem that she is the niece of the nautical
critic.”

The young mariner ceased laughing in his turn,
as though he were suddenly convinced of the glaring
impropriety of making so near a relative of the fair
vision he had seen the subject of his merriment.
Whatever might have been his secret thoughts, he
was content with replying,—

“She so declared herself.”

“Tell me,” said the barrister, walking close to the
other, like one who communicated an important secret
in the question, “was there not something remarkable,
searching, extraordinary, heart-touching,
in the voice of her they called Wyllys?”

“Did you note it?”

“It sounded to me like the tones of an oracle—
the whisperings of fancy—the very words of truth!
It was a strange and persuasive voice!”

“I confess I felt its influence, and in a way for
which I cannot account!”

“It amounts to infatuation!” returned the barrister,
pacing up and down the little apartment, every
trace of humour and irony having disappeared in a
look of settled and abstracted care. His companion
appeared little disposed to interrupt his meditations,
but stood leaning against the naked walls, himself
the subject of deep and sorrowful reflection. At
length the former shook off his air of thought, with
that startling quickness which seemed common to

[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]

his manner; he approached a window, and, directing
the attention of Wilder to the ship in the outer
harbour, abruptly demanded,—

“Has all your interest in yon vessel ceased?”

“Far from it; it is just such a boat as a seaman's
eye most loves to study!”

“Will you venture to board her?”

“At this hour? alone? I know not her commander,
or her people.”

“There are other hours beside this, and a sailor
is certain of a frank reception from his messmates.”

“These slavers are not always willing to be boarded;
they carry arms, and know how to keep strangers
at a distance.”

“Are there no watch-words, in the masonry of
your trade, by which a brother is known? Such
terms as `stemming the waves with the taffrail,' for
instance, or some of those knowing phrases we have
lately heard?”

Wilder kept his own keen look on the countenance
of the other, as he thus questioned him, and
seemed to ponder long before he ventured on a
reply.

“Why do you demand all this of me?” he coldly
asked.

“Because, as I believe that `faint heart never won
fair lady,' so do I believe that indecision never won
a ship. You wish a situation, you say; and, if I were
an Admiral, I would make you my flag-captain. At
the assizes, when we wish a brief, we have our
manner of letting the thing be known. But perhaps
I am talking too much at random for an utter
stranger. You will however remember, that, though
it is the advice of a lawyer, it is given gratuitously.”

“And is it the more to be relied on for such extraordinary
liberality?”

“Of that you must judge for yourself,” said the
stranger in green, very deliberately putting his foot

[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]

on the ladder, and descending, until no part of his
person but his head was seen. “Here I go, literally
cutting the waves with my taffrail,” he added, as he
descended backwards, and seeming to take great
pleasure in laying particular emphasis on the words.
“Adieu, my friend; if we do not meet again, I enjoin
you never to forget the rats in the Newport
ruin.”

He disappeared as he concluded, and in another
instant his light form was on the ground. Turning
with the most admirable coolness, he gave the bottom
of the ladder a trip with one of his feet, and laid the
only means of descent prostrate on the earth. Then,
looking up at the wondering Wilder, he nodded his
head familiarly, repeated his adieu, and passed with
a swift step from beneath the arches.

“This is extraordinary conduct,” muttered Wilder,
who was by the process left a prisoner in the
ruin. After ascertaining that a fail from the trap
might endanger his legs, the young sailor ran to one
of the windows of the place, in order to reproach
his treacherous comrade, or indeed to assure himself
that he was serious in thus deserting him. The barrister
was already out of hailing distance, and, before
Wilder had time to decide on what course to take,
his active footsteps had led him into the skirts of the
town, among the buildings of which his person became
immediately lost to the eye.

During all the time occupied by the foregoing
scenes and dialogue, Fid and the negro had been diligently
discussing the contents of the bag, under the
fence where they were last seen. As the appetite of
the former became appeased, his didactic disposition
returned, and, at the precise moment when Wilder
was left alone in the tower, he was intently engaged
in admonishing the black on the delicate subject of
behaviour in mixed society.

“And so you see, Guinea,” he concluded, “in

[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]

order to keep a weather-helm in company, you are
never to throw all aback, and go stern foremost out
of a dispute, as you have this day seen fit to do.
According to my l'arning, that Master Nightingale is
better in a bar-room than in a squall; and if you had
just luffed-up on his quarter, when you saw me laying
myself athwart his hawse in the argument, you
see we should have given him a regular jam in the
discourse, and then the fellow would have been
shamed in the eyes of all the by-standers. Who
hails? what cook is sticking his neighbour's pig
now?”

“Lor'! Misser Fid,” cried the black, “here masser
Harry, wid a head out of port-hole, up dereaway
in a light-house, singing-out like a marine in a boat
wid a plug out!”

“Ay, ay, let him alone for hailing a top-gallant
yard, or a flying-jib-boom! The lad has a voice like
a French horn, when he has a mind to tune it! And
what the devil is he manning the guns of that weather-beaten
wreck for? At-all events, if he has to fight
his craft alone, there is no one to blame but himself,
since he has gone to quarters without beat of drum,
or without, in any other manner, seeing fit to muster
his people.”

As Dick and the negro had both been making the
best of their way towards the ruin, from the moment
they discovered the situation of their friend, by this
time they were within speaking distance of the spot
itself. Wilder, in those brief, pithy tones that distinguish
the manner in which a sea officer issues his
orders, directed them to raise the ladder. When he
was liberated, he demanded, with a sufficiently significant
air, if they had observed the direction in
which the stranger in green had made his retreat?

“Do you mean the chap in boots, who was for
shoving his oar into another man's rullock, a bit ago,
on the small matter of wharf, hereaway, in a range,

[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]

over yonder house, bringing the north-east chimney
to bear in a line, with the mizen-top-gallant-mast-head
of that ship they are warping into the stream?”

“The very same.”

“He made a slant on the wind until he had weathered
yonder bit of a barn, and then he tacked and
stretched away off here to the east-and-by-south,
going large, and with studding sails alow and aloft,
as I think, for he made a devil of a head-way.”

“Follow,” cried Wilder, starting forward in the
direction indicated by Fid, without waiting to hear
any more of the other's characteristic explanations.

The search, however, was vain. Although they
continued their inquiries until long after the sun had
set, no one could give them the smallest tidings of
what had become of the stranger in green. Some
had seen him, and marvelled at his singular costume,
and bold and wandering look; but, by all accounts,
he had disappeared from the town as strangely and
mysteriously as he had entered it.