Chapter II

“A horseman’s coat shall hide

thy taper shape and comeliness of side:

And with a bolder stride and looser air,

Mingled with men, a man thou must appear.”

Prior.

When the whale-boat obtained the position we have described, the young lieutenant, who, in consequence of commanding a schooner, was usually addressed by the title of captain, stepped on the rocks, followed by the youthful midshipman, who had quitted the barge to aid in the hazardous duty of their expedition.

“This is, at best, but a Jacob’s ladder we have to climb,” said Barnstable, casting his eyes upward at the difficult ascent, “and it’s by no means certain that we shall be well received, when we get up, even though we should reach the top.”

“We are under the guns of the frigate,” returned the boy; “and you remember, sir, three oar-blades and a pistol, repeated from the barge, will draw her fire.”

“Yes, on our own heads. Boy, never be so foolish as to trust a long shot. It makes a great smoke and some noise, but it’s a terrible uncertain manner of throwing old iron about. In such a business as this, I would sooner trust Tom Coffin and his harpoon to back me, than the best broadside that ever rattled out of the three decks of a ninety-gun ship. Come, gather your limbs together, and try if you can walk on terra firma, Master Coffin.”

The seaman who was addressed by this dire appellation arose slowly from the place where he was stationed as cockswain of the boat, and seemed to ascend high in air by the gradual evolution of numberless folds in his body. When erect, he stood nearly six feet and as many inches in his shoes, though, when elevated in his perpendicular attitude, there was a forward inclination about his head and shoulders that appeared to be the consequence of habitual confinement in limited lodgings. His whole frame was destitute of the rounded outlines of a well-formed man, though his enormous hands furnished a display of bones and sinews which gave indication of gigantic strength. On his head he wore a little, low, brown hat of wool, with an arched top, that threw an expression of peculiar solemnity and hardness over his hard visage, the sharp prominent features of which were completely encircled by a set of black whiskers that began to be grizzled a little with age. One of his hands grasped, with a sort of instinct, the staff of a bright harpoon, the lower end of which he placed firmly on the rock, as, in obedience to the order of his commander, he left the place where, considering his vast dimensions, he had been established in an incredibly small space.

As soon as Captain Barnstable received this addition to his strength, he gave a few precautionary orders to the men in the boat, and proceeded to the difficult task of ascending the rocks. Notwithstanding the great daring and personal agility of Barnstable, he would have been completely baffled in this attempt, but for the assistance he occasionally received from his cockswain, whose prodigious strength and great length of limbs enabled him to make exertions which it would have been useless for most men to attempt. When within a few feet of the summit, they availed themselves of a projecting rock to pause for consultation and breath, both of which seemed necessary for their further movements.

“This will be but a bad place for a retreat, if we should happen to fall in with enemies,” said Barnstable. “Where are we to look for this pilot, Mr. Merry, or how are we to know him; and what certainty have you that he will not betray us?”

“The question you are to put to him is written on this bit of paper,” returned the boy, as he handed the other the word of recognition; “we made the signal on the point of the rock at yon headland, but, as he must have seen our boat, he will follow us to this place. As to his betraying us, he seems to have the confidence of Captain Munson, who has kept a bright lookout for him ever since we made the land.”

“Ay,” muttered the lieutenant, “and I shall have a bright lookout kept on him now we are on the land. I like not this business of hugging the shore so closely, nor have I much faith in any traitor. What think you of it, Master Coffin?”

The hardy old seaman, thus addressed, turned his grave visage on his commander, and replied with a becoming gravity:

“Give me a plenty of sea-room, and good canvas, where there is no occasion for pilots at all, sir. For my part, I was born on board a chebacco-man, and never could see the use of more land than now and then a small island to raise a few vegetables, and to dry your fish – I’m sure the sight of it always makes me feel uncomfortable, unless we have the wind dead offshore.”

“Ah! Tom, you are a sensible fellow,” said Barnstable, with an air half comic, half serious. “But we must be moving; the sun is just touching those clouds to seaward, and God keep us from riding out this night at anchor in such a place as this.”

Laying his hand on a projection of the rock above him, Barnstable swung himself forward, and following this movement with a desperate leap or two, he stood at once on the brow of the cliff. His cockswain very deliberately raised the midshipman after his officer, and proceeding with more caution but less exertion, he soon placed himself by his side.

When they reached the level land that lay above the cliffs and began to inquire, with curious and wary eyes, into the surrounding scenery, the adventurers discovered a cultivated country, divided in the usual manner, by hedges and walls. Only one habitation for man, however, and that a small dilapidated cottage, stood within a mile of them, most of the dwellings being placed as far as convenience would permit from the fogs and damps of the ocean.

“Here seems to be neither anything to apprehend, nor the object of our search,” said Barnstable, when he had taken the whole view in his survey: “I fear we have landed to no purpose, Mr. Merry. What say you, long Tom; see you what we want?”

“I see no pilot, sir,” returned the cockswain; “but it’s an ill wind that blows luck to nobody; there is a mouthful of fresh meat stowed away under that row of bushes, that would make a double ration to all hands in the Ariel.”

The midshipman laughed, as he pointed out to Barnstable the object of the cockswain’s solicitude, which proved to be a fat ox, quietly ruminating under a hedge near them.

“There’s many a hungry fellow aboard ofus,” said the boy, merrily, “who would be glad to second long Tom’s motion, if the time and business would permit us to slay the animal.”

“It is but a lubber’s blow, Mr. Merry,” returned the cockswain, without a muscle of his hard face yielding, as he struck the end of his harpoon violently against the earth, and then made a motion toward poising the weapon; “let Captain Barnstable but say the word, and I’ll drive the iron through him to the quick; I’ve sent it to the seizing in many a whale, that hadn’t a jacket of such blubber as that fellow wears.”

“Pshaw! you are not on a whaling-voyage, where everything that offers is game,” said Barnstable, turning himself pettishly away from the beast, as if he distrusted his own forbearance; “but stand fast! I see some one approaching behind the hedge. Look to your arms, Mr. Merry, – the first thing we hear may be a shot.”

“Not from that cruiser,” cried the thoughtless lad; “he is a younker, like myself, and would hardly dare run down upon such a formidable force as we muster.”

“You say true, boy,” returned Barnstable, relinquishing the grasp he held on his pistol. “He comes on with caution, as if afraid. He is small, and is in drab, though I should hardly call it a pea-jacket – and yet he may be our man. Stand you both here, while I go and hail him.”

As Barnstable walked rapidly towards the hedge, that in part concealed the stranger, the latter stopped suddenly, and seemed to be in doubt whether to advance or to retreat. Before he had decided on either, the active sailor was within a few feet of him.

“Pray, sir,” said Barnstable, “what water have we in this bay?”

The slight form of the stranger started, with an extraordinary emotion, at this question, and he shrunk aside involuntarily, as if to conceal his features, before he answered, in a voice that was barely audible:

“I should think it would be the water of the German Ocean.”

“Indeed! you must have passed no small part of your short life in the study of geography, to be so well informed,” returned the lieutenant; “perhaps, sir, your cunning is also equal to telling me how long we shall sojourn together, if I make you a prisoner, in order to enjoy the benefit of your wit?”

To this alarming intimation, the youth who was addressed made no reply; but as he averted his face, and concealed it with both his hands, the offended seaman, believing that a salutary impression had been made upon the fears of his auditor, was about to proceed with his interrogatories. The singular agitation of the stranger’s frame, however, caused the lieutenant to continue silent a few moments longer, when, to his utter amazement, he discovered that what he had mistaken for alarm was produced by an endeavor, on the part of the youth, to suppress a violent fit of laughter.

“Now, by all the whales in the sea,” cried Barnstable, “but you are merry out of season, young gentleman. It’s quite bad enough to be ordered to anchor in such a bay as this with a storm brewing before my eyes, without landing to be laughed at by a stripling who has not strength to carry a beard if he had one, when I ought to be getting an offing for the safety of both body and soul. But I’ll know more of you and your jokes, if I take you into my own mess, and am giggled out of my sleep for the rest of the cruise.”

As the commander of the schooner concluded, he approached the stranger, with an air of offering some violence, but the other shrank back from his extended arm, and exclaimed, with a voice in which real terror had gotten the better of mirth:

“Barnstable! dear Barnstable! would you harm me?”

The sailor recoiled several feet, at this unexpected appeal, and rubbing his eyes, he threw the cap from his head, before he cried:

“What do I hear! and what do I see! There lies the Ariel – and yonder is the frigate. Can this be Katherine Plowden!”

His doubts, if any doubts remained, were soon removed, for the stranger sank on the bank at her side, in an attitude in which female bashfulness was beautifully contrasted with her attire, and gave vent to her mirth in an uncontrollable burst of merriment.

From that moment, all thoughts of his duty, and the pilot, or even of the Ariel, appeared to be banished from the mind of the seaman, who sprang to her side, and joined in her mirth, though he hardly knew why or wherefore.

When the diverted girl had in some degree recovered her composure, she turned to her companion, who had sat goodnaturedly by her side, content to be laughed at, and said:

“But this is not only silly, but cruel to others. I owe you an explanation of my unexpected appearance, and perhaps, also, of my extraordinary attire.”

“I can anticipate everything,” cried Barnstable; “you heard that we were on the coast, and have flown to redeem the promises you made me in America. But I ask no more; the chaplain of the frigate —”

“May preach as usual, and to as little purpose,” interrupted the disguised female; “but no nuptial benediction shall be pronounced over me, until I have effected the object of this hazardous experiment. You are not usually selfish, Barnstable; would you have me forgetful of the happiness of others?”

“Of whom do you speak?”

“My poor, my devoted cousin. I heard that two vessels answering the description of the frigate and the Ariel were seen hovering on the coast, and I determined at once to have a communication with you. I have followed your movements for a week, in this dress, but have been unsuccessful till now. Today I observed you to approach nearer to the shore than usual, and happily, by being adventurous, I have been successful.”

“Ay, God knows we are near enough to the land! But does Captain Munson know of your wish to get on board his ship?”

“Certainly not – none know of it but yourself. I thought that if Griffith and you could learn our situation, you might be tempted to hazard a little to redeem us from our thraldom. In this paper I have prepared such an account as will, I trust, excite all your chivalry, and by which you may govern your movements.”

“Our movements!” interrupted Barnstable. “You will pilot us in person.”

“Then there’s two of them!” said a hoarse voice near them.

The alarmed female shrieked as she recovered her feet, but she still adhered, with instinctive dependence, to the side of her lover. Barnstable, who recognized the tones of his cockswain, bent an angry brow on the sober visage that was peering at them above the hedge, and demanded the meaning of the interruption.

“Seeing you were hull down, sir, and not knowing but the chase might lead you ashore, Mr. Merry thought it best to have a lookout kept. I told him that you were overhauling the mailbags of the messenger for the news, but as he was an officer, sir, and I nothing but a common hand, I did as he ordered.”

“Return, sir, where I commanded you to remain,” said Barnstable, “and desire Mr. Merry to wait my pleasure.”

The cockswain gave the usual reply of an obedient seaman; but before he left the hedge, he stretched out one of his brawny arms towards the ocean, and said, in tones of solemnity suited to his apprehensions and character:

“I showed you how to knot a reef-point, and pass a gasket, Captain Barnstable, nor do I believe you could even take two half-hitches when you first came aboard of the Spalmacitty. These be things that a man is soon expart in, but it takes the time of his nat’ral life to larn to know the weather. There be streaked wind-galls in the offing, that speak as plainly to all that see them, and know God’s language in the clouds, as ever you spoke through a trumpet, to shorten sail; besides, sir, don’t you hear the sea moaning as if it knew the hour was at hand when it was to wake up from its sleep!”

“Ay, Tom,” returned his officer, walking to the edge of the cliffs, and throwing a seaman’s glance at the gloomy ocean, “’tis a threatening night indeed; but this pilot must be had – and —”

“Is that the man?” interrupted the cockswain, pointing toward a man who was standing not far from them, an attentive observer of their proceedings, the same time that he was narrowly watched himself by the young midshipman. “God send that he knows his trade well, for the bottom of a ship will need eyes to find its road out of this wild anchorage.”

“That must indeed be the man!” exclaimed Barnstable, at once recalled to his duty. He then held a short dialogue with his female companion, whom he left concealed by the hedge, and proceeded to address the stranger. When near enough to be heard, the commander of the schooner demanded:

“What water have you in this bay?”

The stranger, who seemed to expect this question, answered without the least hesitation:

“Enough to take all out in safety, who have entered with confidence.”

“You are the man I seek,” cried Barnstable; “are you ready to go off?”

“Both ready and willing,” returned the pilot, “and there is need of haste. I would give the best hundred guineas that ever were coined for two hours more use of that sun which has left us, or for even the time of this fading twilight.”

“Think you our situation so bad?” said the lieutenant. “Follow this gentleman to the boat then; I will join you by the time you can descend the cliffs. I believe I can prevail on another hand to go off with us.”

“Time is more precious now than any number of hands,” said the pilot, throwing a glance of impatience from under his lowering brows, “and the consequences of delay must be visited on those who occasion it.”

“And, sir, I will meet the consequences with those who have a right to inquire into my conduct,” said Barnstable, haughtily.

With this warning and retort they separated; the young officer retracing his steps impatiently toward his mistress, muttering his indignation in suppressed execrations, and the pilot, drawing the leathern belt of his pea-jacket mechanically around his body, as he followed the midshipman and cockswain to their boat, in moody silence.

Barnstable found the disguised female who had announced herself as Katherine Plowden, awaiting his return, with intense anxiety depicted on every feature of her intelligent countenance. As he felt all the responsibility of his situation, notwithstanding his cool reply to the pilot, the young man hastily drew an arm of the apparent boy, forgetful of her disguise, through his own, and led her forward.

“Come, Katherine,” he said, “the time urges to be prompt.”

“What pressing necessity is there for immediate departure?” she inquired, checking his movements by withdrawing herself from his side.

“You heard the ominous prognostic of my cockswain on the weather, and I am forced to add my own testimony to his opinion. Tis a crazy night that threatens us, though I cannot repent of coming into the bay, since it has led to this interview.”

“God forbid that we should either of us have cause to repent of it,” said Katherine, the paleness of anxiety chasing away the rich bloom that had mantled the animated face of the brunette. “But you have the paper – follow its directions, and come to our rescue; you will find us willing captives, if Griffith and yourself are our conquerors.”

“What mean you, Katherine!” exclaimed her lover; “you at least are now in safety – ‘twould be madness to tempt your fate again. My vessel can and shall protect you, until your cousin is redeemed; and then, remember, I have a claim on you for life.”

“And how would you dispose of me in the interval?” said the young maiden, retreating slowly from his advances.

“In the Ariel – by heaven, you shall be her commander; I will bear that rank only in name.”

“I thank you, thank you, Barnstable, but distrust my abilities to fill such a station,” she said, laughing, though the color that again crossed her youthful features was like the glow of a summer’s sunset, and even her mirthful eyes seemed to reflect their tints. “Do not mistake me, saucy one. If I have done more than my sex will warrant, remember it was through a holy motive, and if I have more than a woman’s enterprise, it must be —”

“To lift you above the weakness of your sex,” he cried, “and to enable you to show your noble confidence in me.”

“To fit me for, and to keep me worthy of being one day your wife.” As she uttered these words she turned and disappeared, with a rapidity that eluded his attempts to detain her, behind an angle of the hedge, that was near them. For a moment, Barnstable remained motionless, through surprise, and when he sprang forward in pursuit, he was able only to catch a glimpse of her light form, in the gloom of the evening, as she again vanished in a little thicket at some distance.

Barnstable was about to pursue, when the air lighted with a sudden flash, and the bellowing report of a cannon rolled along the cliffs, and was echoed among the hills far inland.

“Ay, grumble away, old dotard!” the disappointed young sailor muttered to himself, while he reluctantly obeyed the signal; “you are in as great a hurry to get out of your danger as you were to run into it.”

The quick reports of three muskets from the barge beneath where he stood urged him to quicken his pace, and as he threw himself carelessly down the rugged and dangerous passes of the cliffs, his experienced eye beheld the well-known lights displayed from the frigate, which commanded “the recall of all her boats.”