The sight of this man recalled Wilder to a recollection of all that had occurred that morning, and of the whole delicacy of the task he had undertaken to perform. But the publican, whose ideas appeared always concentrated when occupied on the subject of gain, seemed troubled by no particular emotions at the interview. He approached the young mariner and, saluting him by the title of “Captain,” bade him a good voyage, with those customary wish es which seamen express, when about to separate on such an occasion.
“A lucky trip you have made of it, Captain Wilder,” he concluded, “and I hope your passage will be short. You’ll not be without a breeze this afternoon; and, by stretching well over towards Montauck you’ll be able to make such an offing, on the other tack, as to run the coast down in the morning. If I am any judge of the weather, the wind will have more easting in it, than you may happen to find to your fancy.”
“And how long do you think my voyage is likely to last?” demanded Wilder, dropping his voice so low as to reach no ears but those of the publican.
Joram cast a furtive glance aside; and, perceiving that they were alone, he suffered an expression of hardened cunning to take possession of a countenance that ordinarily seemed set in dull, physical contentment, as he replied, laying a finger on his nose while speaking,—
“Didn’t I tender the consignee a beautiful oath, master Wilder?”
“You certainly exceeded my expectations with your promptitude, and”—
“Information!” added the landlord of the ‘Foul Anchor,’ perceiving the other a little at a loss for a word; “yes, I have always been remarkable for the activity of my mind in these small matters; but, when a man once knows a thing thoroughly, it is a great folly to spend his breath in too many words.”
“It is certainly a great advantage to be so well instructed. I suppose you improve your knowledge to a good account.”
“Ah! bless me, master Wilder, what would become of us all, in these difficult times, if we did not turn an honest penny in every way that offers? I have brought up several fine children in credit, and it sha’n’t be my fault if I don’t leave them something too, besides my good name. Well, well; they say, ‘A nimble sixpence is as good as a lazy shilling;’ but give me the man who don’t stand shilly-shally when a friend has need of his good word, or a lift from his hand. You always know where to find such a man; as our politicians say, after they have gone through thick and thin in the cause, be it right or be it wrong.”
“Very commendable principles! and such as will surely be the means of exalting you in the world sooner or later! But you forget to answer my question: Will the passage be long, or short?”
“Heaven bless you, master Wilder! Is it for a poor publican, like me, to tell the Master of this noble ship which way the wind will blow next? There is the worthy and notable Commander Nichols, lying in his state-room below, he could do any thing with the vessel; and why am I to expect that a gentleman so well recommended as yourself will do less? I expect to hear that you have made a famous run, and have done credit to the good word I have had occasion to say in your favour.”
Wilder execrated, in his heart, the wary cunning of the rogue with whom he was compelled, for the moment, to be in league; for he saw plainly that a determination not to commit himself a tittle further than he might conceive to be absolutely necessary, was likely to render Joram too circumspect, to answer his own immediate wishes. After hesitating a moment, in order to reflect, he continued hastily,—
“You see that the ship is gathering way too fast to admit of trifling. You know of the letter I received this morning?”
“Bless me, Captain Wilder! Do you take me for a postmaster? How should I know what letters arrive at Newport, and what stop on the main?”
“As timid a villain as he is thorough!” muttered the young mariner. “But this much you may surely say, Am I to be followed immediately? or is it expected that I should detain the ship in the offing, under any pretence that I can devise?”
“Heaven keep you, young gentleman! These are strange questions, to come from one who is fresh off the sea, to a man that has done no more than look at it from the land, these five-and-twenty years. According to my memory, sir, you will keep the ship about south until you are clear of the islands; and then you must make your calculations according to the wind, in order not to get into the Gulf, where, you know, the stream will be setting you one way, while your orders say, ‘Go another.’”
“Luff! mind your luff, sir!” cried the pilot, in a stern voice, to the man at the helm; “luff you can; on no account go to leeward of the slaver!”
Both Wilder and the publican started, as if they found something alarming in the name of the vessel just alluded to; and the former pointed to the skiff, as he said,—
“Unless you wish to go to sea with us, Mr Joram, it is time your boat held its master.”
“Ay, ay, I see you are fairly under way, and I must leave you, however much I like your company,” returned the landlord of the ‘Foul Anchor,’ bustling over the side, and getting into his skiff in the best manner he could. “Well, boys, a good time to ye; a plenty of wind, and of the right sort; a safe passage out, and a quick return. Cast off.”
His order was obeyed; the light skiff, no longer impelled by the ship, immediately deviated from its course; and, after making a little circuit, it became stationary, while the mass of the vessel passed on, with the steadiness of an elephant from whose back a butterfly had just taken its flight. Wilder followed the boat with his eyes, for a moment; but his thoughts were recalled by the voice of the pilot, who again called, from the forward part of the ship,—
“Let the light sails lift a little, boy; let her lift keep every inch you can, or you’ll not weather the slaver. Luff, I say, sir; luff.”
“The slaver!” muttered our adventurer, hastening to a part of the ship whence he could command a view of that important, and to him doubly interesting ship; “ay, the slaver! it may be difficult, indeed to weather upon the slaver!”
He had unconsciously placed himself near Mrs Wyllys and Gertrude; the latter of whom was leaning on the rail of the quarter-deck, regarding the strange vessel at anchor, with a pleasure far from unnatural to her years and sex.
“You may laugh at me, and call me fickle, and perhaps credulous, dear Mrs Wyllys,” the unsuspecting girl cried, just as Wilder had taken the foregoing position, “but I wish we were well out of this ‘Royal Caroline,’ and that our passage was to be made in yonder beautiful ship!”
“It is indeed a beautiful ship!” returned Wyllys; “but I know not that it would be safer, or more comfortable, than the one we are in.”
“With what symmetry and order the ropes are arranged! and how like a bird it floats upon the water!”
“Had you particularized the duck, the comparison would have been exactly nautical,” said the governess, smiling mournfully; “you show capabilities my love, to be one day a seaman’s wife.”
Gertrude blushed a little; and, turning back her head to answer in the playful vein of her governess, her eye met the riveted look of Wilder, fastened on herself. The colour on her cheek deepened to a carnation, and she