The Pilot: A Tale of the Sea, James Fenimore Cooper [ereader for comics .txt] 📗
- Author: James Fenimore Cooper
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“God be with you, Alice!” he said, touched with her emotion, and losing all vain images in more worthy feelings—“but I cannot permit you to go alone.”
“Here we part, John,” she said firmly, “and forever! 'Tis for the happiness of both, for I fear we have but little in common.” She gently wrested her hand from his grasp, and once more bidding him adieu, in a voice that was nearly inaudible, she turned and slowly disappeared, moving, with lingering steps, in the direction of the abbey.
The first impulse of the pilot was certainly to follow, and insist on seeing her on the way; but the music of the guard on the cliffs at that moment sent forth its martial strains, and the whistle of the boatswain was heard winding Its shrill call among the rocks, in those notes that his practised ear well understood to be the last signal for embarking.
Obedient to the summons, this singular man, in whose breast the natural feelings, that were now on the eve of a violent eruption, had so long been smothered by the visionary expectations of a wild ambition, and perhaps of fierce resentments, pursued his course, in deep abstraction, towards the boats. He was soon met by the soldiers of Borroughcliffe, deprived of their arms, it is true, but unguarded, and returning peacefully to their quarters. The mind of the Pilot, happily for the liberty of these men, was too much absorbed in his peculiar reflections, to note this act of Griffith's generosity, nor did he arouse from his musing until his steps were arrested by suddenly encountering a human figure in the pathway. A light tap on his shoulder was the first mark of recognition he received, when Borroughcliffe, who stood before him, said:
“It is evident, sir, from what has passed this evening, that you are not what you seem. You may be some rebel admiral or general, for aught that I know, the right to command having been strangely contested among ye this night. But let who will own the chief authority, I take the liberty of whispering in your ear that I have been scurvily treated by you—I repeat, most scurvily treated by you all, generally, and by you in particular.”
The Pilot started at this strange address, which was uttered with all the bitterness that could be imparted to it by a disappointed man; but he motioned with his hand for the captain to depart, and turned aside to pursue his own way.
“Perhaps I am not properly understood,” continued the obstinate soldier: “I say, sir, you have treated me scurvily: and I would not be thought to say this to any gentleman, without wishing to give him an opportunity to vent his anger.”
The eye of the Pilot, as he moved forward, glanced at the pistols which Borroughcliffe held in his hands, the one by the handle, and the other by its barrel, and the soldier even fancied that his footsteps were quickened by the sight. After gazing at him until his form was lost in the darkness, the captain muttered to himself:
“He is no more than a common pilot, after all! No true gentleman would have received so palpable a hint with such a start. Ah! here comes the party of my worthy friend whose palate knows a grape of the north side of Madeira from one of the south. The dog has the throat of a gentleman; we will see how he can swallow a delicate allusion to his faults!”
Borroughcliffe stepped aside to allow the marines, who were also in motion for the boats, to pass, and watched with keen looks for the person of the commander. Manual, who had been previously apprised of the intention of Griffith to release the prisoners, had halted to see that none but those who had been liberated by authority were marching into the country. This accidental circumstance gave Borroughcliffe an opportunity of meeting the other at some little distance from either of their respective parties.
“I greet you, sir,” said Borroughcliffe, “with all affection. This has been a pleasant forage for you, Captain Manual.”
The marine was far from being disposed to wrangle, but there was that in the voice of the other which caused him to answer:
“It would have been far pleasanter, sir, if I had met an opportunity of returning to Captain Borroughcliffe some of the favors that I have received at his hands.”
“Nay, then, dear sir, you weigh my modesty to the earth! Surely you forget the manner in which my hospitality has already been requited—by some two hours mouthing of my sword-hilt; with a very unceremonious ricochet into a corner; together with a love-tap received over the shoulders of one of my men, by so gentle an instrument as the butt of a musket! Damme, sir, but I think an ungrateful man only a better sort of beast!”
“Had the love-tap been given to the officer instead of the man,” returned Manual, with all commendable coolness, “it would have been better justice; and the ramrod might have answered as well as the butt, to floor a gentleman who carried the allowance of four thirsty fiddlers under one man's jacket.”
“Now, that is rank ingratitude to your own cordial of the south side, and a most biting insult! I really see but one way of terminating this wordy war, which, if not discreetly ended, may lead us far into the morning.”
“Elect your own manner of determining the dispute, sir; I hope, however, it will not be by your innate knowledge of mankind, which has already mistaken a captain of marines in the service of Congress, for a runaway lover, bound to some green place or other.”
“You might just as well tweak my nose, sir!” said Borroughcliffe. “Indeed, I think it would be the milder reproach of the two! will you make your selection of these, sir? They were loaded for a very different sort of service, but I doubt not will answer on occasion.”
“I am provided with a pair, that are charged for any service,” returned Manual, drawing a pistol from his own belt, and stepping backward a few paces.
“You are destined for America, I know,” said Borroughcliffe, who stood his ground with consummate coolness; “but it would be more convenient for me, sir, if you could delay your march for a single moment.”
“Fire and defend yourself!” exclaimed Manual, furiously, retracing his steps towards his enemy.
The sounds of the two pistols were blended in one report, and the soldiers of Borroughcliffe and the marines all rushed to the place on the sudden alarm. Had the former been provided with arms, it is probable that a bloody fray would have been the consequence of the sight that both parties be held on arriving at the spot, which they did simultaneously. Manual lay on his back, without any signs of life, and Borroughcliffe had changed his cool, haughty, upright attitude for a recumbent posture,
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