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

aside from the completion of my purpose. It is now more than forty years since the interview took place in which this confidence was bestowed; but every minute occurrence connected with it is as fresh in my mind as if the whole had taken place only yesterday.

We were all four of us seated on a rude bench that my mother had caused to be placed under the shade of an enormous oak that stood on the most picturesque spot, perhaps, on the whole farm, and which commanded a distant view of one of the loveliest reaches of the Hudson. Our side of the river, in general, does not possess as fine views as the eastern, for the reason that all our own broken, and in some instances magnificent back-ground of mountains, fills up the landscape for our neighbours, while we are obliged to receive the picture as it is set in a humbler frame; but there are exquisite bits to be found on the western bank, and this was one of the very best of them. The water was as placid as molten silver, and the sails of every vessel in sight were hanging in listless idleness from their several spars, representing commerce asleep. Grace had a deep feeling for natural scenery, and she had a better mode of expressing her thoughts, on such occasions, than is usual with girls of fourteen. She first drew our attention to the view by one of her strong, eloquent bursts of eulogium; and Lucy met the remark with a truthful, simple answer, that showed abundant sympathy with the sentiment, though with less of exaggeration of manner and feeling, perhaps. I seized the moment as favourable for my purpose, and spoke out.

"If you admire a vessel so much, Grace," I said, "you will probably be glad to hear that I think of becoming a sailor."

A silence of near two minutes succeeded, during which time I affected to be gazing at the distant sloops, and then I ventured to steal a glance at my companions. I found Grace's mild eyes earnestly riveted on my face; and, turning from their anxious expression with a little uneasiness, I encountered those of Lucy looking at me as intently as if she doubted whether her ears had not deceived her.

"A sailor, Miles!"--my sister now slowly repeated--"I thought it settled you were to study law."

"As far from that as we are from England; I've fully made up my mind to see the world if I can, and Rupert, here--"

"What of Rupert, here?" Grace asked, a sudden change again coming over her sweet countenance, though I was altogether too inexperienced to understand its meaning. " He is certainly to be a clergyman--his dear father's assistant, and, a long, long, very long time hence, his successor!"

I could see that Rupert was whistling on a low key, and affecting to look cool; but my sister's solemn, earnest, astonished manner had more effect on us both, I believe, than either would have been willing to own.

"Come, girls," I said at length, putting the best face on the matter, "there is no use in keeping secrets from you --but remember that what I am about to tell you is a secret, and on no account is to be betrayed."

"To no one but Mr. Hardinge," answered Grace. "If you intend to be a sailor, he ought to know it."

"That comes from looking at our duties superficially," I had caught this phrase from my friend, "and not distinguishing properly between their shadows and their substance."

"Duties superficially! I do not understand you, Miles. Certainly Mr. Hardinge ought to be told what profession you mean to follow. Remember, brother, he now fills the place of a parent to you."

"He is not more my parent than Rupert's--I fancy you will admit that much!"

"Rupert, again! What has Rupert to do with your going to sea?"

"Promise me, then, to keep my secret, and you shall know all; both you and Lucy must give me your words. I know you will not break them, when once given."

"Promise him, Grace," said Lucy, in a low tone, and a voice that, even at that age, I could perceive was tremulous. "If we promise, we shall learn everything, and then may have some effect on these headstrong boys by our advice."

"Boys! You cannot mean, Lucy, that Rupert is not to be a clergyman--your father's assistant; that Rupert means to be a sailor, too?"

"One never knows what boys will do. Let us promise them, dear; then we can better judge."

"I do" promise you, Miles, "said my sister, in a voice so solemn as almost to frighten me.

"And I, Miles," added Lucy; but it was so low, I had to lean forward to catch the syllables.

"This is honest and right,"--it was honest, perhaps, but very wrong,--"and it convinces me that you are both reasonable, and will be of use to us. Rupert and I have both made up our minds, and intend to be sailors."

Exclamations followed from both girls, and another long silence succeeded.

"As for the law, hang all law!" I continued, hemming, and determined to speak like a man. "I never heard of a Wallingford who was a lawyer."

"But you have both heard of Hardinges who were clergymen," said Grace, endeavouring to smile, though the expression of her countenance was so painful that even now I dislike to recall it.

"And sailors, too," put in Rupert, a little more stoutly than I thought possible. "My father's grandfather was an officer in the navy."

"And my father was a sailor himself--in the navy, too."

"But there is no navy in this country now, Miles," returned Lucy, in an expostulating tone.

"What of that? There are plenty of ships. The ocean is just as big, and the world just as wide, as if we had a navy to cover the first. I see no great objection on that account--do you, Ru?"

"Certainly not. What we want is to go to sea, and that can be done in an Indiaman, as well as in a man-of-war."

"Yes," said I, stretching myself with a little importance. "I fancy an Indiaman, a vessel that goes all the way to Calcutta, round the Cape of Good Hope, in the track of Vasquez de Gama, isn't exactly an Albany sloop."

"Who is Vasquez de Gama?" demanded Lucy, with so much quickness as to surprise me.

"Why, a noble Portuguese, who discovered the Cape of Good Hope, and first sailed round it, and then went to the Indies. You see, girls, even nobles are sailors, and why should not Rupert and I be sailors?"

"It is not that, Miles," my sister answered; "every honest calling is respectable. Have you and Rupert spoken to Mr. Hardinge on this subject?"

"Not exactly--not spoken--hinted only--that is, blindly--not so as to be understood, perhaps."

"He will never consent, boys!" and this was uttered with something very like an air of triumph.

"We have no intention of asking it of him, Grace. Rupert and I intend to be off next week, without saying a word to Mr. Hardinge on the subject."

Another long, eloquent silence succeeded, during which I saw Lucy bury her face in her apron, while the tears openly ran down my sister's cheek.

"You do not-- cannot mean to do anything so cruel, Miles!" Grace at length said.

"It is exactly because it will not be cruel, that we intend to do it,"--here I nudged Rupert with my elbow, as a hint that I wanted assistance; but he made no other reply than an answering nudge, which I interpreted into as much as if he had said in terms, "You've got into the scrape in your own way, and you may get out of it in the same manner." "Yes," I continued, finding succour hopeless, "yes, that's just it."

"What is just it, Miles? You speak in a way to show that you are not satisfied with yourself--neither you nor Rupert is satisfied with himself, if the truth were known."

"I not satisfied with myself! Rupert not satisfied with himself! You never were more mistaken in your life, Grace. If there ever were two boys in New York State that were well satisfied with themselves, they are just Rupert and I."

Here Lucy raised her face from the apron and burst into a laugh, the tears filling her eyes all the while.

"Believe them, dear Grace," she said. "They are precisely two self-satisfied, silly fellows, that have got some ridiculous notions in their heads, and then begin to talk about 'superficial views of duties,' and all such nonsense. My father will set it all right, and the boys will have had their talk."

"Not so last, Miss Lucy, if you please. Your father will not know a syllable of the matter until you tell him all about it, after we are gone. We intend 'to relieve him from all responsibility in the premises.'"

This last sounded very profound, and a little magnificent, to my imagination; and I looked at the girls to note the effect. Grace was weeping, and weeping only; but Lucy looked saucy and mocking, even while the tears bedewed her smiling face, as rain sometimes falls while the sun is shining.

"Yes," I repeated, with emphasis, "'of all responsibility in the premises.' I hope that is plain English, and good English, although I know that Mr. Hardinge has been trying to make you both so simple in your language, that you turn up your noses at a profound sentiment, whenever you hear one."

In 1797, the grandiose had by no means made the deep invasion into the everyday language of the country, that it has since done. Anything of the sublime, or of the recondite, school was a good deal more apt to provoke a smile, than it is to-day--the improvement proceeding, as I have understood through better judges than myself, from the great melioration of mind and manners that is to be traced to the speeches in congress, and to the profundities of the newspapers. Rupert, however, frequently ornamented his ideas, and I may truly say everything ambitious that adorned my discourse was derived from his example. I almost thought Lucy impertinent for presuming to laugh at sentiments which came from such a source, and, by way of settling my own correctness of thought and terms, I made no bones of falling back on my great authority, by fairly pointing him out.

"I thought so!" exclaimed Lucy, now laughing with all her heart, though a little hysterically; "I thought so, for this is just like Rupert, who is always talking to me about 'assuming the responsibility,' and 'conclusions in the premises,' and all such nonsense. Leave the boys to my father, Grace, and he will 'assume the responsibility' of 'concluding the premises,' and the whole of the foolish scheme along with it!"

This would have provoked me, had not Grace manifested so much sisterly interest in my welfare that I was soon persuaded to tell her --that minx Lucy overhearing every syllable, though I had half a mind to tell her to go away--all about our project.

"You see," I continued, "if Mr. Hardinge knows anything about our plan, people will say he ought to have stopped us. 'He a clergyman, and not able to keep two lads of sixteen or seventeen