Wilder bowed, and again faced the ladies, whom he had just been about to quit, like one who felt he had no right to intrude a moment longer than had been necessary to recover that which had been lost by his pretended awkwardness. When Mrs Wyllys found that her wish was so unexpectedly realized, she hesitated as to the manner in which she should next proceed.
“I have been thus bold, sir,” she said, in some embarrassment, “on account of the opinion you so lately expressed concerning the vessel which now lies ready to put to sea, the instant, she is favoured with a wind.”
“‘The Royal Caroline?’” Wilder carelessly replied.
“That is her name, I believe.”
“I hope, Madam, that nothing which I have said,” he hastily continued, “will have an effect to prejudice you against the ship. I will pledge myself that she is made of excellent materials, and then I have not the least doubt but she is very ably commanded.”
“And yet have you not hesitated to say, that you consider a passage in this very vessel more dangerous than one in any other ship that will probably leave a port of the Provinces in many months to come.”
“I did,” answered Wilder, with a manner not to be mistaken.
“Will you explain your reasons for this opinion?”
“If I remember rightly, I gave them to the lady whom I had the honour to see an hour ago.”
“That individual, sir, is no longer here,” was the grave reply of Wyllys; “neither is she to trust her person in the vessel. This young lady and myself, with our attendants, will be the only passengers.”
“I understood it so,” returned Wilder, keeping his thoughtful gaze riveted on the speaking countenance of the deeply interested Gertrude.
“And, now that there is no apprehension of any mistake, may I ask you to repeat the reasons why you think there will be danger in embarking in the ‘Royal Caroline?’”
Wilder started, and even had the grace to colour, as he met the calm and attentive look of Mrs Wyllys’s searching, but placid eye.
“You would not have me repeat, Madam,” he stammered, “what I have already said on the subject?”
“I would not, sir; once will suffice for such an explanation; still am I persuaded you have other reasons for your words.”
“It is exceedingly difficult for a seaman to speak of ships in any other than technical language, which must be the next thing to being unintelligible to one of your sex and condition. You have never been at sea, Madam?”
“Very often, sir.”
“Then may I hope, possibly, to make myself understood. You must be conscious, Madam, that no small part of the safety of a ship depends on the very material point of keeping her right side uppermost sailors call it ‘making her stand up.’ Now I need not say, I am quite sure, to a lady of your intelligence, that, if the ‘Caroline’ fall on her beam there will be imminent hazard to all on board.”
“Nothing can be clearer; but would not the same risk be incurred in any other vessel?”
“Without doubt, if any other vessel should trip. But I have pursued my profession for many years, without meeting with such a misfortune, but once. Then, the fastenings of the bowsprit”—
“Are good as ever came from the hand of rigger,” said a voice behind them.
The whole party turned; and beheld, at a little distance, the old seaman already introduced, mounted on some object on the other side of the wall, against which he was very coolly leaning, and whence he overlooked the whole of the interior of the grounds.
“I have been at the water side to look at the boat, at the wish of Madam de Lacey, the widow of my late noble Commander and Admiral; and, let other men think as they may, I am ready to swear that the ‘Royal Caroline’ has as well secured a bowsprit as any ship that carries the British flag! Ay, nor is that all I will say in her favour; she is throughout neatly and lightly sparred, and has no more of a wall-side than the walls of yonder church tumble-home. I am an old man, and my reckoning has got to the last leaf of the log-book; therefore it is little interest that I have, or can have, in this brig or that schooner, but this much will I say, which is, that it is just as wicked, and as little likely to be forgiven, to speak scandal of a wholesome and stout ship, as it is to talk amiss of mortal Christian.”
The old man spoke with energy, and a great show of honest indignation, which did not fail to make an impression on the ladies, at the same time that it brought certain ungrateful admonitions to the conscience of the understanding Wilder.
“You perceive, sir,” said Mrs Wyllys, after waiting in vain for the reply of the young seaman, “that it is very possible for two men, of equal advantages, to disagree on a professional point. Which am I to believe?”
“Whichever your own excellent sense should tell you is most likely to be correct. I repeat, and in a sincerity to whose truth I call Heaven to witness, that no mother or sister of mine should, with my consent, embark in the ‘Caroline.’”
“This is incomprehensible!” said Mrs Wyllys, turning to Gertrude, and speaking only for her ear. “My reason tells me we have been trifled with by this young man; and yet are his protestations so earnest, and apparently so sincere, that I cannot shake off the impression they have made. To which of the two, my love, do you feel most inclined to yield your credence?”
“You know how very ignorant I am, dear Madam, of all these things,” said Gertrude, dropping her eyes to the faded sprig she was plucking; “but, to me, that old wretch has a very presuming and vicious look.”
“You then think the younger most entitled to our belief?”
“Why not; since you, also, think he is a gentleman?”
“I know not that his superior situation in life entitles him to greater credit. Men often obtain such advantages only to abuse them.—I am afraid, sir,” continued Mrs Wyllys, turning to the expecting Wilder, “that unless you see fit to be more frank, we shall be compelled to refuse you our faith, and still persevere in our intention to profit, by the opportunity of the ‘Royal Caroline,’ to get to the Carolinas.”
“From the bottom of my heart, Madam, do I regret the determination.”
“It may still be in your power to change it, by being explicit.”
Wilder appeared to muse, and once or twice his lips moved, as if he were about to speak. Mrs Wyllys and Gertrude awaited his intentions with intense interest; but, after a long and seemingly hesitating pause, he disappointed both, by saying,—
“I am sorry that I have not the ability to make myself better understood. It can only be the fault of my dullness; for I again affirm that the danger is as apparent to my eyes as the sun at noon day.”
“Then we must continue blind, sir,” returned Mrs Wyllys, with a cold salute. “I thank you for your good and kind intentions, but you cannot blame us for not consenting to follow advice which is buried in so much obscurity. Although in our own grounds, we shall be pardoned the rudeness of leaving you. The hour appointed for our departure has now arrived.”
Wilder returned the grave bow of Mrs Wyllys with one quite as formal as her own; though he bent with greater grace, and with more cordiality, to the deep but hurried curtesy of Gertrude Grayson. He remained in the precise spot, however, in which they left him, until he saw them enter the villa; and he even fancied he could catch the anxious expression of another timid glance which the latter threw in his direction, as her light form appeared to float from before his sight. Placing one hand on the wall, the young sailor then