The Pilot: A Tale of the Sea, James Fenimore Cooper [ereader for comics .txt] 📗

The commander of the schooner threw back the triumphant look of the marine, and exclaimed, in his joyous manner:

'“Tis a good plan, and done like a seaman, Mr. Griffith. Ay, ay, let the schooner be employed; and if it be necessary, you shall see her anchored in one of their duck-ponds, with her broadside to bear on the parlor-windows of the best house in the island! But twenty marines! they will cause a jam in my little craft.”

“Not a man less than twenty would be prudent,” returned Griffith. “More service may offer than that we seek.”

Barnstable well understood his allusion, but still he replied:

“Make it all seamen, and I will give you room for thirty. But these soldiers never know how to stow away their arms and legs, unless at a drill. One will take the room of two sailors; they swing their hammocks athwart-ships, heads to leeward, and then turn out wrong end uppermost at the call. Why, damn it, sir, the chalk and rottenstone of twenty soldiers will choke my hatches!”

“Give me the launch, Captain Munson!” exclaimed the indignant marine, “and we will follow Mr. Griffith in an open boat, rather than put Captain Barnstable to so much inconvenience.”

“No, no, Manual,” cried the other, extending his muscular arm across the table, with an open palm, to the soldier; “you would all become so many Jonahs in uniform, and I doubt whether the fish could digest your cartridge-boxes and bayonet-belts. You shall go with me, and learn, with your own eyes, whether we keep the cat's watch aboard the Ariel that you joke about.”

The laugh was general, at the expense of the soldier, if we except the pilot and the commander of the frigate. The former was a silent, and apparently an abstracted, but in reality a deeply interested listener to the discourse; and there were moments when he bent his looks on the speakers, as if he sought more in their characters than was exhibited by the gay trifling of the moment. Captain Munson seldom allowed a muscle of his wrinkled features to disturb their repose; and if he had not the real dignity to repress the untimely mirth of his officers, he had too much good nature to wish to disturb their harmless enjoyments. He expressed himself satisfied with the proposed arrangements, and beckoned to his steward to place before them the usual beverage, with which all their consultations concluded.

The sailing-master appeared to think that the same order was to be observed in their potations as in council, and helping himself to an allowance which retained its hue even in its diluted state, he first raised it to the light, and then observed:

“This ship's water is nearly the color of rum itself; if it only had its flavor, what a set of hearty dogs we should be! Mr. Griffith, I find you are willing to haul your land-tacks aboard. Well, it's natural for youth to love the earth; but there is one man, and he is sailing-master of this ship, who saw land enough last night, to last him a twelvemonth. But if you will go, here's a good land-fall, and a better offing to you. Captain Munson, my respects to you. I say, sir, if we should keep the ship more to the south'ard, it's my opinion, and that's but one man's, we should fall in with some of the enemy's homeward bound West-Indiamen, and find wherewithal to keep the life in us when we see fit to go ashore ourselves.”

As the tough old sailor made frequent application of the glass to his mouth with one hand, and kept a firm hold of the decanter with the other, during this speech, his companions were compelled to listen to his eloquence, or depart with their thirst unassuaged. Barnstable, however, quite coolly dispossessed the tar of the bottle, and mixing for himself a more equal potation, observed, in the act:

“That is the most remarkable glass of grog you have, Boltrope, that I ever sailed with; it draws as little water as the Ariel, and is as hard to find the bottom. If your spirit-room enjoys the same sort of engine to replenish it, as you pump out your rum, Congress will sail this frigate cheaply.”

The other officers helped themselves with still greater moderation, Griffith barely moistening his lips, and the pilot rejecting the offered glass altogether. Captain Munson continued standing, and his officers, perceiving that their presence was no longer necessary, bowed, and took their leave. As Griffith was retiring last, he felt a hand laid lightly on his shoulder, and turning, perceived that he was detained by the pilot.

“Mr. Griffith,” he said, when they were quite alone with the commander of the frigate, “the occurrences of the last night should teach us confidence in each other; without it, we go on a dangerous and fruitless errand.”

“Is the hazard equal?” returned the youth. “I am known to all to be the man I seem—am in the service of my country—belong to a family, and enjoy a name, that is a pledge for my loyalty to the cause of America—and yet I trust myself on hostile ground, in the midst of enemies, with a weak arm, and under circumstances where treachery would prove my ruin. Who and what is the man who thus enjoys your confidence, Captain Munson? I ask the question less for myself than for the gallant men who will fearlessly follow wherever I lead.”

A shade of dark displeasure crossed the features of the stranger, at one part of this speech, and at its close he sank into deep thought. The commander, however, replied:

“There is a show of reason in your question, Mr. Griffith—and yet you are not the man to be told that implicit obedience is what I have a right to expect. I have not your pretensions, sir, by birth or education, and yet Congress have not seen proper to overlook my years and services. I command this frigate——”

“Say no more,” interrupted the pilot “There is reason in his doubts, and they shall be appeased. I like the proud and fearless eye of the young man, and while he dreads a gibbet from my hands, I will show him how to repose a noble confidence. Read this, sir, and tell me if you distrust me now?”

While the stranger spoke, he thrust his hand into the bosom of his dress, and drew forth a parchment, decorated with ribands, and bearing a massive seal, which he opened, and laid on the table before the youth. As he pointed with his finger impressively to different parts of the writing, his eye kindled with a look of unusual fire, and there was a faint tinge discernible on his pallid features when he spoke.

“See!” he said, “royalty itself does not hesitate to bear witness in my favor, and that is not a name to occasion dread to an American.”

Griffith gazed with wonder at the fair signature of the unfortunate Louis, which graced the bottom of the parchment; but when his eye obeyed the signal of the stranger, and rested on the body of the instrument, he started back from the table, and fixing his animated eyes on the pilot, he cried, while a glow of fiery courage flitted across his countenance:

“Lead on! I'll follow you to death!”

A smile of gratified exultation struggled around the lips of the stranger, who took