Authors: James Fenimore Cooper
I will acknowledge that, while I felt no reluctance at making this
arrangement in favour of Rupert, I felt mortified he should accept
it. There are certain acts we may all wish to perform, and, yet, which
bring regrets when successfully performed. I was sorry that
my
friend, Lucy's brother, Grace's admirer—for I was quick enough in
perceiving that Rupert began to entertain fancies of that sort—had
not pride enough to cause him to decline receiving money which must be
earned by the sweat of my brow, and this, moreover, in a mode of life
he had not himself sufficient resolution to encounter a second
time. But he accepted the offer, and there was an end of it.
As everything was alive in 1798, the Crisis was ready to sail in three
days after I joined her. We hauled into the North river, as became the
dignity of our voyage, and got our crew on board. On the whole, we
mustered a pretty good body of men, ten of them being green; fellows
who had never seen the ocean, but who were young, healthy and
athletic, and who promised to be useful before a great while.
Including those aft, we counted thirty-eight souls on board. The ship
was got ready in hopes of being able to sail of a Thursday, for
Captain Williams was a thoughtful man, and was anxious to get the ship
fairly at sea, with the first work done, previously to the next
Sabbath. Some small matters, however, could not be got through with in
time; and, as for sailing of a Friday, that was out of the
question. No one did that in 1798, who could help it. This gave us a
holiday, and I got leave to pass the afternoon and evening ashore.
Rupert, Grace, Lucy and I took a long walk into the country that
evening; that is, we went into the fields, and along the lanes, for
some distance above the present site of Canal street. Lucy and I
walked together, most of the time, and we both felt sad at the idea of
so long a separation as was now before us. The voyage might last three
years; and I should be legally a man, my own master, and Lucy a young
woman of near nineteen, by that time. Terrible ages in perspective
were these, and which seemed to us pregnant with as many changes as
the life of a man.
"Rupert will be admitted to the bar, when I get back," I casually
remarked, as we talked the matter over.
"He will, indeed," the dear girl answered. "Now you
are
to go,
Miles, I almost regret my brother is not to be in the ship; you have
known each other so long, love each other so much, and have already
gone through such frightful trials in company."
"Oh! I shall do well enough—there'll be Neb; and as for Rupert, I
think he will be better satisfied ashore than at sea. Rupert is a sort
of a natural lawyer."
By this I merely meant he was good at a subterfuge, and could tell his
own story.
"Yes, but Neb is not Rupert, Miles," Lucy answered, quick as thought,
and, I fancied, a little reproachfully.
"Very true—no doubt I shall miss your brother, and that, too, very
much, at times; but all I meant in speaking of Neb was, as you know,
that he and I like each other, too, and have been through just the
same trials together, you understand, and have known each other as
long as I can remember."
Lucy was silent, and I felt embarrassed, and a little at a loss what
to say next. But a girl approaching sixteen, and who is with a youth
who possesses her entire confidence, is not apt to be long
silent. Something she will say; and how often is that something warm
with natural feeling, instinct with truth, and touching from its
confiding simplicity!
"You will sometimes think of us, Miles?" was Lucy's next remark, and
it was said in a tone that induced me to look her full in the face,
when I discovered that her eyes were suffused with tears.
"Of that you may be
very
certain, and I hope to be rewarded in
kind. But, now I think of it, Lucy, I have a debt to pay you, and, at
the same time, a little interest. Here are the half-joes you forced me
to take last year, when we parted at Clawbonny. See, they are exactly
the same pieces; for I would as soon have parted with a finger, as
with one of them."
"I had hoped they might have been of use to you, and had quite
forgotten them. You have destroyed an agreeable illusion."
"Is it not quite as agreeable to know we had no occasion for them? No,
here they are; and, now I go with Mr. Hardinge's full approbation,
you very well know I can be in no want of money. So, there is your
gold; and here, Lucy, is some interest for the use of it."
I made an effort to put something into the dear girl's hand as I
spoke, but all the strength I could properly apply was not equal to
the purpose. So tightly did she keep her little fingers compressed,
that I could not succeed without a downright effort at force.
"No—no—Miles," she said hurriedly—almost huskily; "that will never
do! I am not Rupert—you may prevail with him; never with
me
!"
"Rupert! What can Rupert have to do with such a thing as this locket?
Youngsters don't wear lockets."
Lucy's fingers separated as easily as an infant's, and I put my little
offering into her hand without any more resistance. I was sorry,
however, to discover that, by some means unknown to me, she had become
acquainted with the arrangement I had made as respected the twenty
dollars a month. I afterwards ascertained that this secret had leaked
out through Neb, who had it from one of the clerks of the
counting-house who had visited the ship, and repeated it to
Mrs. Bradfort's black maid, in one of his frequent visits to the
house. This is a common channel of information, though it seldom
proves as true as it did in this instance.
I could see that Lucy was delighted with her locket. It was a very
pretty ornament, in the first place, and it had her own hair, that of
Grace, Rupert, and my own, very prettily braided together, so as to
form a wreath, made like a rope, or a grummet, encircling a
combination of letters that included all our initials. In this there
was nothing that was particular, while there was much that was
affectionate. Had I not consulted Grace on the subject, it is
possible I should have been less cautious, though I declare I had no
thought of making love. All this time I fancied I felt for, and
trusted Lucy as another sister. I was shrewd enough to detect Rupert's
manner and feeling towards my own sister, and I felt afraid it was, or
soon would be, fully reciprocated; but as to imagining myself in love
with Lucy Hardinge, or any one else, the thought never crossed my
mind, though the dear girl herself so often did!
I saw Lucy's smile, and I could not avoid noticing the manner in
which, once or twice, unconsciously to herself, I do believe, this
simple-minded, sincere creature, pressed the hand which retained the
locket to her heart; and yet it made no very lively impression on my
imagination at the time. The conversation soon changed, and we began
to converse of other things. I have since fancied that Grace had left
us alone in order that I might return the half-joes to Lucy, and offer
the locket; for, looking round and seeing the latter in its new
owner's hand, while Lucy was bestowing on it one of the hundred
glances of grateful pleasure it received that afternoon, she waited
until we came up, when she took my arm, remarking, as this was to be
our last evening together, she must come in for her share of the
conversation. Now, I solemnly affirm that this was the nearest
approach to anything like a love-scene that had ever passed between
Lucy Hardinge and myself.
I would gladly pass over the leave-taking, and shall say but little
about it. Mr. Hardinge called me into his room, when we got back to
the house. He spoke earnestly and solemnly to me, recalling to my mind
many of his early and most useful precepts. He then kissed me, gave me
his blessing, and promised to remember me in his prayers. As I left
him, and I believe he went on his knees as soon as my back was turned,
Lucy was waiting for me in the passage. She was in tears, and paler
than common, but her mind seemed made up to sustain a great sacrifice
like a woman. She put a small, but exceedingly neat copy of the Bible
into my hand, and uttered, as well as emotion would permit—"There,
Miles;
that
is
my
keepsake. I do not ask you to think of
me
when you read; but think of
God
." She then snatched a
kiss, and flew into her room and locked the door. Grace was below,
and she wept on my neck like a child, kissing me again and again, and
calling me "her brother—her dear, her
only
brother." I was
obliged actually to tear myself away from Grace. Rupert went with me
to the ship, and passed an hour or two on board. As we crossed the
threshold, I heard a window open above my head, and, looking up, I saw
Lucy, with streaming eyes, leaning forward to say, "Write,
Miles—write as often as you possibly can."
Man must be a stern being by nature, to be able to tear himself from
such friends, in order to encounter enemies, hardships, dangers and
toil, and all without any visible motive. Such was my case, however,
for I wanted not for a competency, or for most of those advantages
which might tempt one to abandon the voyage. Of such a measure, the
possibility never crossed my mind. I believed that it was just as
necessary for me to remain third-mate of the Crisis, and to stick by
the ship while she would float, as Mr. Adams thinks it necessary for
him to present abolition petitions to a congress, which will not
receive them. We both of us, doubtless, believed ourselves the victims
of fate.
We sailed at sun-rise, wind and tide favouring. We had anchored off
Courtlandt street, and as the ship swept past the Battery I saw
Rupert, who had only gone ashore in the pilot's boat at day-light,
with two females, watching our movements. The girls did not dare to
wave their handkerchiefs; but what cared I for that—I knew that their
good wishes, kind wishes, tender wishes, went with me; and this little
touch of affection, which woman knows so well how to manifest, made me
both happy and sad for the remainder of the day.
The Crisis was an unusually fast ship, faster even than the Tigris;
coppered to the bends, copper-fastened, and with a live-oak frame. No
better craft sailed out of the republic. Uncle Sam had tried to
purchase her for one of his new navy; but the owners, having this
voyage in view, refused his tempting offers. She was no sooner under
her canvass, than all hands of us perceived we were in a traveller;
and glad enough were we to be certain of the fact, for we had a long
road before us. This, too, was with the wind free, and in smooth
water; whereas those who knew the vessel asserted her
forte
was
on a bowline and in a sea-that is to say, she would sail relatively
faster than most other craft, under the latter circumstances.
There was a strange pleasure to me, notwithstanding all I had suffered
previously, all the risks I had run, and all I had left behind me, in
finding myself once more on the broad ocean. As for Neb, the fellow
was fairly enraptured. So quickly and intelligently did he obey his
orders, that he won a reputation before we crossed the bar. The smell
of the ocean seemed to imbue him with a species of nautical
inspiration, and even I was astonished with his readiness and
activity. As for myself, I was every way at home. Very different was
this exit from the port, from that of the previous year. Then
everything was novel, and not a little disgusting. Now I had little,
almost nothing, to learn—literally nothing, I might have said, were
it not that every ship-master has certain
ways
of his own, that
it behooves all his subordinates to learn as quickly as possible. Then
I lived aft, where we not only had plates, and table-cloths, and
tumblers, and knives and forks; but comparatively
clean
articles of the sort. I say comparatively, the two other degrees being
usually wanting in north-west traders.
The Crisis went to sea with a lively breeze at south-west, the wind
shifting after she had got into the lower bay. There were a dozen sail
of us altogether, and in our little fleet were two of Uncle Sam's men,
who felt disposed to try their hands with us. We crossed the bar, all
three of us, within a cable's length of each other, and made sail in
company, with the wind a trifle abaft the beam. Just as Navesink
disappeared, our two men-of-war, merchantmen altered, hauled up on
bowlines, and jogged off towards the West Indies, being at the time
about a league astern of us. This success put us all in high
good-humour, and had such an effect on Marble in particular, that he
began to give it as his opinion that our only superiority over them
would not be found confined to sailing, on an experiment. It is very
convenient to think favourably of one's self, and it is certainly
comfortable to entertain the same notion as respects one's ship.
I confess to a little awkwardness at first, in acting as an officer. I
was young, and commanded men old enough to be my father—regular
sea-dogs, who were as critical in all that related to the niceties of
the calling, as the journalist who is unable to appreciate the higher
qualities of a book, is hypercritical on its minor faults. But a few
days gave me confidence, and I soon found I was obeyed as readily as
the first-mate. A squall struck the ship in my watch, about a
fortnight out, and I succeeded in getting in sail, and saving
everything, canvass and spars, in a way that did me infinite service
aft. Captain Williams spoke to me on the subject, commending the
orders I had given, and the coolness with which they had been issued;
for, as I afterwards understood, he remained some time in the
companion-way, keeping the other two mates back, though all hands had
been called, in order to see how I could get along by myself in such a
strait. On this occasion, I never saw a human being exert himself like
Neb. He felt that my honour was concerned. I do really think the
fellow did two men's duty, the whole time the squall lasted. Until
this little incident occurred, Captain Williams was in the habit of
coming on deck to examine the heavens, and see how things were getting
on, in my night-watches; but, after this, he paid no more visits of
this sort to me, than he paid to Mr. Marble. I had been gratified by
his praises; but this quiet mode of showing confidence, gave me more
happiness than I can express.