Afloat and Ashore, James Fenimore Cooper [romantic story to read TXT] 📗

was, though far from being poor.

I will acknowledge that, while I felt no reluctance at making this arrangement in favour of Rupert, I felt mortified he should accept it. There are certain acts we may all wish to perform, and, yet, which bring regrets when successfully performed. I was sorry that my friend, Lucy's brother, Grace's admirer--for I was quick enough in perceiving that Rupert began to entertain fancies of that sort--had not pride enough to cause him to decline receiving money which must be earned by the sweat of my brow, and this, moreover, in a mode of life he had not himself sufficient resolution to encounter a second time. But he accepted the offer, and there was an end of it.

As everything was alive in 1798, the Crisis was ready to sail in three days after I joined her. We hauled into the North river, as became the dignity of our voyage, and got our crew on board. On the whole, we mustered a pretty good body of men, ten of them being green; fellows who had never seen the ocean, but who were young, healthy and athletic, and who promised to be useful before a great while. Including those aft, we counted thirty-eight souls on board. The ship was got ready in hopes of being able to sail of a Thursday, for Captain Williams was a thoughtful man, and was anxious to get the ship fairly at sea, with the first work done, previously to the next Sabbath. Some small matters, however, could not be got through with in time; and, as for sailing of a Friday, that was out of the question. No one did that in 1798, who could help it. This gave us a holiday, and I got leave to pass the afternoon and evening ashore.

Rupert, Grace, Lucy and I took a long walk into the country that evening; that is, we went into the fields, and along the lanes, for some distance above the present site of Canal street. Lucy and I walked together, most of the time, and we both felt sad at the idea of so long a separation as was now before us. The voyage might last three years; and I should be legally a man, my own master, and Lucy a young woman of near nineteen, by that time. Terrible ages in perspective were these, and which seemed to us pregnant with as many changes as the life of a man.

"Rupert will be admitted to the bar, when I get back," I casually remarked, as we talked the matter over.

"He will, indeed," the dear girl answered. "Now you are to go, Miles, I almost regret my brother is not to be in the ship; you have known each other so long, love each other so much, and have already gone through such frightful trials in company."

"Oh! I shall do well enough--there'll be Neb; and as for Rupert, I think he will be better satisfied ashore than at sea. Rupert is a sort of a natural lawyer."

By this I merely meant he was good at a subterfuge, and could tell his own story.

"Yes, but Neb is not Rupert, Miles," Lucy answered, quick as thought, and, I fancied, a little reproachfully.

"Very true--no doubt I shall miss your brother, and that, too, very much, at times; but all I meant in speaking of Neb was, as you know, that he and I like each other, too, and have been through just the same trials together, you understand, and have known each other as long as I can remember."

Lucy was silent, and I felt embarrassed, and a little at a loss what to say next. But a girl approaching sixteen, and who is with a youth who possesses her entire confidence, is not apt to be long silent. Something she will say; and how often is that something warm with natural feeling, instinct with truth, and touching from its confiding simplicity!

"You will sometimes think of us, Miles?" was Lucy's next remark, and it was said in a tone that induced me to look her full in the face, when I discovered that her eyes were suffused with tears.

"Of that you may be very certain, and I hope to be rewarded in kind. But, now I think of it, Lucy, I have a debt to pay you, and, at the same time, a little interest. Here are the half-joes you forced me to take last year, when we parted at Clawbonny. See, they are exactly the same pieces; for I would as soon have parted with a finger, as with one of them."

"I had hoped they might have been of use to you, and had quite forgotten them. You have destroyed an agreeable illusion."

"Is it not quite as agreeable to know we had no occasion for them? No, here they are; and, now I go with Mr. Hardinge's full approbation, you very well know I can be in no want of money. So, there is your gold; and here, Lucy, is some interest for the use of it."

I made an effort to put something into the dear girl's hand as I spoke, but all the strength I could properly apply was not equal to the purpose. So tightly did she keep her little fingers compressed, that I could not succeed without a downright effort at force.

"No--no--Miles," she said hurriedly--almost huskily; "that will never do! I am not Rupert--you may prevail with him; never with me !"

"Rupert! What can Rupert have to do with such a thing as this locket? Youngsters don't wear lockets."

Lucy's fingers separated as easily as an infant's, and I put my little offering into her hand without any more resistance. I was sorry, however, to discover that, by some means unknown to me, she had become acquainted with the arrangement I had made as respected the twenty dollars a month. I afterwards ascertained that this secret had leaked out through Neb, who had it from one of the clerks of the counting-house who had visited the ship, and repeated it to Mrs. Bradfort's black maid, in one of his frequent visits to the house. This is a common channel of information, though it seldom proves as true as it did in this instance.

I could see that Lucy was delighted with her locket. It was a very pretty ornament, in the first place, and it had her own hair, that of Grace, Rupert, and my own, very prettily braided together, so as to form a wreath, made like a rope, or a grummet, encircling a combination of letters that included all our initials. In this there was nothing that was particular, while there was much that was affectionate. Had I not consulted Grace on the subject, it is possible I should have been less cautious, though I declare I had no thought of making love. All this time I fancied I felt for, and trusted Lucy as another sister. I was shrewd enough to detect Rupert's manner and feeling towards my own sister, and I felt afraid it was, or soon would be, fully reciprocated; but as to imagining myself in love with Lucy Hardinge, or any one else, the thought never crossed my mind, though the dear girl herself so often did!

I saw Lucy's smile, and I could not avoid noticing the manner in which, once or twice, unconsciously to herself, I do believe, this simple-minded, sincere creature, pressed the hand which retained the locket to her heart; and yet it made no very lively impression on my imagination at the time. The conversation soon changed, and we began to converse of other things. I have since fancied that Grace had left us alone in order that I might return the half-joes to Lucy, and offer the locket; for, looking round and seeing the latter in its new owner's hand, while Lucy was bestowing on it one of the hundred glances of grateful pleasure it received that afternoon, she waited until we came up, when she took my arm, remarking, as this was to be our last evening together, she must come in for her share of the conversation. Now, I solemnly affirm that this was the nearest approach to anything like a love-scene that had ever passed between Lucy Hardinge and myself.

I would gladly pass over the leave-taking, and shall say but little about it. Mr. Hardinge called me into his room, when we got back to the house. He spoke earnestly and solemnly to me, recalling to my mind many of his early and most useful precepts. He then kissed me, gave me his blessing, and promised to remember me in his prayers. As I left him, and I believe he went on his knees as soon as my back was turned, Lucy was waiting for me in the passage. She was in tears, and paler than common, but her mind seemed made up to sustain a great sacrifice like a woman. She put a small, but exceedingly neat copy of the Bible into my hand, and uttered, as well as emotion would permit--"There, Miles; that is my keepsake. I do not ask you to think of me when you read; but think of God ." She then snatched a kiss, and flew into her room and locked the door. Grace was below, and she wept on my neck like a child, kissing me again and again, and calling me "her brother--her dear, her only brother." I was obliged actually to tear myself away from Grace. Rupert went with me to the ship, and passed an hour or two on board. As we crossed the threshold, I heard a window open above my head, and, looking up, I saw Lucy, with streaming eyes, leaning forward to say, "Write, Miles--write as often as you possibly can."

Man must be a stern being by nature, to be able to tear himself from such friends, in order to encounter enemies, hardships, dangers and toil, and all without any visible motive. Such was my case, however, for I wanted not for a competency, or for most of those advantages which might tempt one to abandon the voyage. Of such a measure, the possibility never crossed my mind. I believed that it was just as necessary for me to remain third-mate of the Crisis, and to stick by the ship while she would float, as Mr. Adams thinks it necessary for him to present abolition petitions to a congress, which will not receive them. We both of us, doubtless, believed ourselves the victims of fate.

We sailed at sun-rise, wind and tide favouring. We had anchored off Courtlandt street, and as the ship swept past the Battery I saw Rupert, who had only gone ashore in the pilot's boat at day-light, with two females, watching our movements. The girls did not dare to wave their handkerchiefs; but what cared I for that--I knew that their good wishes, kind wishes, tender wishes, went with me; and this little touch of affection, which woman knows so well how to manifest, made me both happy and sad for the remainder of the day.

The Crisis was an unusually fast ship, faster even than the Tigris; coppered to the bends, copper-fastened, and with a live-oak frame. No better craft sailed out of the republic. Uncle Sam had tried to purchase her for one of his new navy; but the owners, having this voyage in view, refused his tempting offers. She was no sooner under her canvass, than all hands of us perceived we were in a