CHAPTER XXVI.

  “At the piping of all hands,
  When the judgment signal's spread—
  When the islands and the lands,
  And the seas give up the dead,
  And the south and the north shall come;
  When the sinner is dismay'd,
  And the just man is afraid,
  Then heaven be thy aid,
  Poor Tom.'”
   BRAINARD.

The two ships, in the haste of their respective crews to get clear of each other, were now running in the troughs; and the same idea would seem to have suggested itself to me and the other master, at the same instant. Instead of endeavouring to keep away again, one kept his helm hard a-port, the other as hard a-starboard, until we both came by the wind, though on opposite tacks. The Englishman set his mizen-stay-sail, and though he made bad weather of it, he evidently ran much less risk than in scudding. The seas came on board him constantly; but not in a way to do any material damage. As for the Dawn, she lay-to, like a duck, under bare poles. I had a spare stay-sail, stopped up in her mizen-rigging, from the top down, and after that the ship was both easy and dry. Once in a while, it is true, her bows would meet some fellow heavier than common, and then we got a few hogsheads of water forward; but it went out to leeward as fast as it came in to windward. At the turn of the day, however, the gale broke, and the weather moderated sensibly; both sea and wind beginning to go down.

Had we been alone, I should not have hesitated about bearing up, getting some sail on the ship, and running off on my course, again; but, the desire to speak the stranger, and have some communication with Marble, was so strong, that I could not make up my mind to do so. Including myself, Talcott, Neb, the cabin-steward, and six of the people forward, there were ten of us on board, who knew the ex-mate; and, of the whole ten, there was not a dissenting voice concerning his identity. I determined, therefore, to stick by the Englishman, and at least have some communication with my old friend. As for myself, I own I loved Marble, uncouth and peculiar as he sometimes was. I owed him more than any other man living, Mr. Hardinge excepted; for he had made me a seaman, having been of use to me professionally, in a hundred ways. Then we had seen so much in company, that I regarded him as a portion of my experience, and as, in some measure, identified with my own nautical career.

I was afraid at one moment, that the Englishman intended to remain as he was, all night; but, about an hour before sunset, I had the gratification to see him set his fore-sail, and keep off. I had wore round, two hours before, to get the Dawn's head on the same tack with him, and followed under bare poles. As the stranger soon set his main-top-sail close reefed, and then his fore, it enabled us to make a little sail also, in order to keep up with him. This we did all that night; and, in the morning, both ships were under everything that would draw, with a moderate breeze from the northward, and no great matter of sea going. The English vessel was about a league to leeward of us, and a little ahead. Under such circumstances, it was easy to close. Accordingly, just as the two ships' companies were about to go to breakfast, the Dawn ranged up under the lee-quarter of the stranger.

“What ship's that?” I hailed, in the usual manner.

“The Dundee; Robert Ferguson, master—what ship's that?”

“The Dawn; Miles Wallingford. Where are you from?”

“From Rio de Janeiro, bound to London. Where are you from?”

“From New York, to Bordeaux. A heavy blow we have just had of it.”

“Quite; the like of it, I've not seen in many a day. You've a pratty sea-boat, yon!”

“She made capital weather, in the late gale, and I've every reason to be satisfied with her. Pray, haven't you an American on board, of the name of Marble? We fancied that we saw the face of an old shipmate on your taffrail, yesterday, and have kept you company in order to inquire after his news.”

“Ay, ay,” answered the Scotch master, waving his hand. “The chiel will be visiting you prasently. He's below, stowing away his dunnage; and will be thanking you for a passage home, I'm thinking.”

As these words were uttered, Marble appeared on deck, and waved his hat, again, in recognition. This was enough; as we understood each other, the two ships took sufficient room, and hove-to. We lowered our boat, and Talcott went alongside of the Dundee, in quest of our old shipmate. Newspapers and news were exchanged; and, in twenty minutes, I had the extreme gratification of grasping Marble once more by the hand.

My old friend was too much affected to speak, for some little time. He shook hands with everybody, and seemed as much astonished as he was delighted at finding so many of us together again; but not a syllable did he utter for several minutes. I had his chest passed into the cabin, and then went and took my seat alongside of him on the hen-coops, intending to hear his story, as soon as he was disposed to give it. But, it was no easy matter to get out of ear-shot of my passengers. During the gale, they had been tongue-tied, and I had a little peace; but, no sooner did the wind and sea go down, than they broke out in the old spot, and began to do Boston, in the way they had commenced. Now, Marble had come on board, in a manner so unusual, and it was evident a secret history was to be revealed, that all three took post in the companion-way, in a manner to render it impossible anything material could escape them. I knew the folly of attempting a change of position on deck; we should certainly be followed up; and, people of this class, so long as they can make the excuse of saying they heard any part of a secret, never scruple about inventing the portions that happen to escape their ears. Consequently, I desired Marble and Talcott to follow me; and, incontinently, I led the way into the main-top. I was obeyed, the second-mate having the watch, and all three of us were soon seated with our legs over the top-rim, as comfortable as so many gossips, who had just finished their last cups, have stirred the fire, and drawn their heads together to open a fresh-budget. Neither Sarah nor Jane could follow us, thank God!

“There, d—n 'em” said I, a little pointedly; for it was enough to make a much more, scrupulous person swear, “we've got the length of the main-rigging between us, and I do not think they'll venture into the top, this fine morning, in order to overhear what shall be said. It would puzzle even Wallace Mortimer to do that, Talcott.”

“If they do,” observed Talcott, laughing, “we can retreat to the cross-trees, and thence to the royal-yard.”

Marble looked inquisitive, but, at the same time, he looked knowing.

“I understand,” he said, with a nod; “three people with six sets of ears—is it not so, Miles?”

“Precisely; though you only do them credit by halves, for you should have added to this inventory forty tongues.”

“Well, that is a large supply. The man, or woman, who is so well provided, should carry plenty of ballast. However, as you say, they're out of hail now, and must guess at all they repeat, if repeating it can be called.”

“Quite as much as nine-tenths of what they give as coming from others,” observed Talcott. “People never can tell so much of other person's affairs, without bailing out most of their ideas from their own scuttle-butts.”

“Well, let them go to—Bordeaux—” said I, “since they are bound there. And now, my dear Marble, here we are, and dying to know all that has happened to you. You have firm friends in Talcott and myself; either of us, ready to give you his berth for the asking.”

“Thank'ee, my dear boys—thank'ee, with all my heart and soul,” returned the honest fellow, dashing the moisture from his eyes, with the back of his hand. “I believe you would, boys; I do believe you would, one or both. I am glad, Miles, you came up into this bloody top, for I wouldn't like to let your reg'lar 'long-shore harpies see a man of my time of life, and one that has been to sea, now, man and boy, close on to forty years, with as much blubber about him, as one of your right whales. Well—and now for the log; for I suppose you'll insist on overhauling it, lads?”

“That we shall; and see you miss no leaf of it. Be as particular as if it were overhauled in an insurance case.”

“Ay; they're bloody knaves, sometimes, them underwriters; und a fellow need be careful to get his dues out of them—that is to say, some; others, ag'in, are gentlemen, down to their shoe-buckles, and no sooner see a poor shipwrecked devil, than they open their tills, and begin to count out, before he has opened his mouth.”

“Well, but your own adventures, my old friend; you forget we are dying with curiosity.”

“Ay—your cur'osity's a troublesome inmate, and will never be quiet as long as one tries to keep it under hatches; especially female cur'osity. Well, I must gratify you; and so I'll make no more bones about it, though its giving an account of my own obstinacy and folly. I reckon, now, my boys, you missed me the day the ship sailed from the island?”

“That we did, and supposed you had got tired of your experiment before it began,” I answered, “so were off, before we were ourselves.”

“You had reason for so thinking; though you were out in your reckoning, too. No; it happened in this fashion. After you left me, I began to generalize over my sitiation, and I says to myself, says I, 'Moses Marble, them lads will never consent to sail and leave you here, on this island, alone like a bloody hermit,' says I. 'If you want to hold on,' says I, 'and try your hand at a hermitage,' says I, 'or to play Robinson Crusoe,' says I, 'you must be out, of the way when the Crisis, sails'—boys, what's become of the old ship? Not a word have I heard about her, yet!”

“She was loading for London, when we sailed, her owners intending to send her the same voyage over again.”

“And they refused to let you have her, Miles, on account of your youth, notwithstanding all you did for them?”

“Not so; they pressed me to keep her, but I preferred a ship of my own. The Dawn is my property, Master Moses!”

“Thank God! then there is one honest chap among the owners. And how did she behave? Had you any trouble with the pirates?”

Perceiving the utter uselessness of attempting to hear his own story before I rendered an account of the Crisis, and her exploits, I gave Marble a history of our voyage, from the time we parted down to the day we reached New York.

“And that scaramouch of a schooner that the Frenchman gave us, in his charity?”

“The Pretty Poll! She got home safe, was sold, and is now in the West-India trade. There is a handsome balance, amounting to some fourteen hundred dollars, in the owners' hands, coming to you from prize-money and wages.”

It is not in nature, for any man to be sorry he has money. I saw by Marble's eyes, that this sum, so unusually large for him to possess, formed a new tie to the world, and that he fancied himself a much happier man in possessing it. He looked at me earnestly, for quite a minute, and then remarked, I make no doubt with sincere regret—

“Miles, if I had a mother living, now, that money might make her old age comfortable! It seems that they who have no mothers, have money, and they who have no money, have mothers.”

I waited a moment for Marble to recover his self-command, and then urged him to continue his story.

“I was telling you how I generalized over my sitiation,” resumed the ex-mate, “as soon as I found myself alone in the hut. I came to the conclusion that I should be carried off by force, if I remained till next day; and so I got into the launch, carried her out of the lagoon, taking care to give the ship a berth, went through the reef, and kept turning to windward, until day-break. By that time, the island was quite out of sight, though I saw the upper sails of the ship, as soon as you got her under way. I kept the top-gallant-sails in sight, until I made the island, again; and as you went off, I ran in, and took possession of my dominions, with no one to dispute my will, or to try to reason me out of my consait.”

“I am glad to hear you term that notion a conceit, for, certainly, it was not reason. You soon discovered your mistake, my old mess-mate, and began to think of home.”

“I soon discovered, Miles, that if I had neither father, nor mother, brother nor sister, that I had a country and friends. The bit of marble on which I was found in the stone-cutter's yard, then seemed as dear to me as a gold cradle is to a king's son; and I thought of you, and all the rest of you—nay, I yearned after you, as a mother would yearn for her children.”

“Poor fellow, you were solitary enough, I dare say—had you no amusement with your pigs and poultry?”

“For a day or two, they kept me pretty busy. But, by the end of a week, I discovered that pigs and poultry were not made to keep company with man. I had consaited that I could pass the rest of my days in the bosom of my own family, like any other man who had made, his fortune and retired; but, I found my household too small for such a life as that. My great mistake was in supposing that the Marble family could be happy in its own circle.”

This was said bitterly, though it was said drolly, and, while it made

Talcott and myself laugh, it also made us sorry.

“I fell into another mistake, however, boys,” Marble continued, “and it might as well be owned. I took it into my head that I should be all alone on the island, but I found to my cost, that the devil insisted on having his share. I'll tell you how it is, Miles; a man must either look ahead, or look astarn; there is no such thing as satisfying himself with the present moorings. Now, this was my misfortune; for, ahead I had nothing to look forward to; and astarn, what comfort had I in overhauling past sins!”

“I think I can understand your difficulties, my friend; how did you manage to get rid of them?”

“I left the island. You had put the Frenchman's launch in capital condition, and all I had to do was to fill up the breakers with fresh water, kill a hog and salt him away, put on board a quantity of biscuit, and be off. As for eatables, you know there was no scarcity on the island, and I took my choice. I make no doubt there are twenty hogsheads of undamaged sugars, at this very moment, in the hold of that wreck, and on the beach of the island. I fed my poultry on it, the whole time I staid.”

“And so you abandoned Marble Land to the pig's and the fowls?”

“I did, indeed, Miles; and I hope the poor creaturs will have a comfortable time of it. I gave 'em what the lawyers call a quit-claim, and sailed two months to a day after you went off in the Crisis.”

“I should think, old shipmate, that your voyage must have been as solitary and desperate as your life ashore.”

“I'm amazed to hear, you say that. I'm never solitary at sea, one has so much to do in taking care of his craft; and then he can always look forward to the day he'll get in. But this generalizing, night and day, without any port ahead, and little comfort in looking astarn, will soon fit a man for Bedlam. I just: weathered Cape Crazy, I can tell you, lads; and that, too, in the white water! As for my v'y'ge being desperate, what was there to make it so, I should like to know?”

“You must have been twelve or fifteen hundred miles from any island where you could look forward to anything like safety; and that is a distance one would rather not travel all alone on the high seas.”

“Pshaw! all consait. You're getting notional, Miles, now you're a master and owner. What's a run of a thousand or fifteen hundred miles, in a tight boat, and with plenty of grub and water? It was the easiest matter in the world; and if it warn't for that bloody Cape Horn, I should have made as straight a wake for Coenties' Slip, as the trending of the land would have allowed. As it was, I turned to windward, for I knew the savages to leeward weren't to be trusted. You see, it was as easy as working out a day's work. I kept the boat on a wind all day, and long bits of the night, too, until I wanted sleep; and then I hove her to, under a reefed mainsail, and slept as sound as a lord. I hadn't an uncomfortable moment, after I got outside of the reef again; and the happiest hour of my life was that in which I saw the tree-tops of the island dip.”

“And how long were you navigating in this manner, and what land did you first make?”

“Seven weeks, though I made half a dozen islands, every one of them just such a looking object as that I had left. You weren't about to catch me ashore again in any of them miserable places! I gave the old boat a slap, and promised to stick by her as long as she would stick by me, and I kept my word. I saw savages, moreover, on one or two of the islands, and gave them a berth, having no fancy for being barbacued.”

“And where did you finally make your land-fall?”

“Nowhere, so; far as the launch was concerned. I fell in with a Manilla ship, bound to Valparaiso, and got on board her; and sorry enough was I for the change, when I came to find out how they lived. The captain took me in, however, and I worked my passage into port. Finding no ship likely to sail soon, I entered with a native who was about to cross the Andes, bound over on this side, for the east coast. Don't you remember, Miles, monsters of mountains that we could see, a bit inland, and covered with snow, all along the west side of South America? You must remember the chaps I mean?”

“Certainly—they are much too plain, and objects much too striking, ever to be forgotten, when once seen.”

“Well them's the Andes; and rough customers they be, let me tell you, boys. You know there is little amusement in a sailor's walking on the levellest 'arth and handsomest highways, on account of the bloody ups and downs a fellow meets with; and so you may get some idee of the time we had of it, when I tell you, had all the seas we saw in the last blow been piled on top of each other, they would have made but a large pancake, compared to them 'ere Andes. Natur' must have outdone herself in making 'em; and when they were thrown together, what good comes of it all? Such mountains might be of some use in keeping the French and English apart; but you leave nothing but bloody Spaniards on one side of them Andes, and find bloody Spaniards and Portugeese on the other. However, we found our way over them, and brought up at a place called Buenos Ayres, from which I worked my passage round to Rio in a coaster. At Rio, you know, I felt quite at home, having stopped in there often, in going backward and forward.”

“And thence you took passage in the Dundee for London, intending to get a passage home by the first opportunity?”

“It needs no witch to tell that. I had to scull about Rio for several months, doing odd jobs as a rigger, and the like of that, until, finding no Yankee came in, I got a passage in a Scotchman. I'll not complain of Sawney, who was kind enough to me as a shipwrecked mariner; for that was the character I sailed under, hermits being no way fashionable among us Protestants, though it's very different among them Catholic chaps, I can tell you. I happened to mention to a landlady on the road, that I was a sort of a hermit on his travels; when I thought the poor woman would have gone down on her knees and worshipped me.”

Here then was the history of Moses Marble, and the end of the colony of Marble Land, pigs and poultry excepted. It was now my turn to be examined. I had to answer fifty curious inquiries, some of which I found sufficiently embarrassing. When, in answer to his interrogatories, Marble learned that the Major and Miss Merton had actually been left at Clawbonny, I saw the ex-mate wink at Talcott, who smiled in reply. Then, where was Rupert, and how came on the law? The farm and mills were not forgotten; and, as for Neb, he was actually ordered up into the top, in order that there might be another shake of the hand, and that he might answer for himself. In a word, nothing could be more apparent than the delight of Marble at finding himself among us once more. I believed even then, that the man really loved me; and the reader will remember how long we had sailed together, and how much we had seen in company. More than once did my old shipmate dash the tears from his eyes, as he spoke of his satisfaction.

“I say, Miles—I say, Roger,” he cried—“this is like being at home, and none of your bloody hermitages! Blast me, if I think, now, I should dare pass through a wood all alone. I'm never satisfied unless I see a fellow-creatur', for fear of being left. I did pretty well with the Scotchman, who has a heart, though it's stowed away in oatmeal, but this is home. I must ship as your steward, Miles, for hang on to you I will.”

“If we ever part, again, until one or both go into dock, it will be your fault, my old friend. If I have thought of you once, since we parted, I have dreamed of you fifty times! Talcott and I were talking of you in the late gale, and wondering what sail you would advise us to put the ship under.”

“The old lessons have not all been forgotten, boys; it was easy enough to see that. I said to myself, as you stood down upon us, 'that chap has a real sea-dog aboard, as is plain by the manner in which he has everything snug, while he walks ahead like an owner in a hurry to be first in the market.'”

It was then agreed Marble should keep a watch; whenever it suited him, and that he should do just as he pleased aboard. At some future day, some other arrangement might be made, though he declared his intention to stick by the ship, and also announced a determination to be my first-mate for life, as soon as Talcott got a vessel, as doubtless he would, through the influence of his friends, as soon as he returned home. I laughed at all this, though I bade him heartily welcome, and then I nick-named him commodore, adding that he should sail with me in that capacity, doing just as much, and just as little duty as he pleased. As for money, there was a bag of dollars in the cabin, and he had only to put his hand in, and take what he wanted. The key of the locker was in my pocket, and could be had for asking. Nobody was more delighted with this arrangement than Neb, who had even taken a fancy to Marble, from the moment when the latter led him up from the steerage of the John, by the ear.

“I say, Miles, what sort of bloody animals are them passengers of your's?” Marble next demanded, looking over the rim of the top, down at the trio on deck, with a good deal of curiosity expressed in his countenance. “This is the first time I ever knew a ship-master driven aloft by his passengers, in order to talk secrets!”

“That is because you never sailed with the Brigham family, my friend. They'll pump you till you suck, in the first twenty-four hours, rely on it. They'll get every fact about your birth, the island where you first saw me, what you have been about, and what you mean to do; in a word, the past, present, and future.”

“Leave me to overlay their cur'osity,” answered the ex-mate, or new commodore—“I got my hand in, by boarding six weeks with a Connecticut old maid, once, and I'll defy the keenest questioner of them all.”

We had a little more discourse, when we all went below, and I introduced Marble to my passengers, as one who was to join our mess. After this, things went on in their usual train. In the course of the day, however, I overheard the following brief dialogue between Brigham and Marble, the ladies being much too delicate to question so rough a mariner.

“You came on board us, somewhat unexpectedly, I rather conclude, Captain Marble?” commenced the gentleman.

“Not in the least; I have been expecting to meet the Dawn, just about this spot, more than a month, now.”

“Well, that is odd! I do not comprehend how such a thing could well be foreseen?”

“Do you understand spherical trigonometry, sir?”

“I cannot say I am at all expert—I've looked into mathematics, but have no great turn for the study.”

“It would be hopeless, then, to attempt to explain the matter. If you had your hand in at the spherical, I could make it all as plain as the capstan.”

“You and Captain Wallingford must be somewhat old acquaintances, I conclude?”

“Somewhat,” answered Marble, very drily.

“Have you ever been at the place that he calls Clawbonny? A queer name, I rather think, Captain!”

“Not at all, sir. I know a place, down in the Eastern States, that was called Scratch and Claw, and a very pretty spot it was.”

“It's not usual for us to the eastward, to give names to farms and places. It is done a little by the Boston folk, but they are notional, as everybody knows.”

“Exactly; I suppose it was for want of use, the chap I mean made out no better in naming his place.”

Mr. Brigham was no fool; he was merely a gossip. He took the hint, and asked no more questions of Marble. He tried Neb, notwithstanding; but the black having his orders, obeyed them so literally, that I really believe we parted in Bordeaux, a fortnight later, without any of the family's making the least discovery. Glad enough was I to get rid of them; yet, brief as had been our intercourse, they produced a sensible influence on my future happiness. Such is the evil of this habit of loose talking, men giving credit to words conceived in ignorance and uttered in the indulgence of one of the most contemptible of all our propensities. To return to my ship.

We reached Bordeaux without any further accident, or delay. I discharged in the usual way, and began to look about me, for another freight. It had been my intention to return to New York, and to keep the festivities of attaining my majority, at Clawbonny; but, I confess the discourse of these eternal gossips, the Brighams, had greatly lessened the desire to see home again, so soon. A freight for New York was offered me, but I postponed an answer, until it was given to another ship. At length an offer was made me to go to Cronstadt, in Russia, with a cargo of wines and brandies, and I accepted it. The great and better informed merchants, as it would seem, distrusted the continuance of the hollow peace that then existed, and a company of them thought it might be well to transfer their liquors to the capital of the czar, in readiness for contingencies. An American ship was preferred, on account of her greater speed, as well as on account of her probable neutral character, in the event of troubles occurring at any unlooked-for moment. The Dawn took in her wines and brandies accordingly, and sailed for the Baltic about the last of August. She had a long, but a safe passage, delivering the freight according to the charter-party, in good condition. While at Cronstadt, the American consul, and the consignees of an American ship that had lost her master and chief-mate by the smallpox, applied to me to let Marble carry the vessel home. I pressed the offer on my old friend, but he obstinately refused to have anything to do with the vessel. I then recommended Talcott, and after some negotiation, the latter took charge of the Hyperion. I was sorry to part with my mate, to whom I had become strongly attached; but the preferment was so clearly to his advantage, that I could take no other course. The vessel being ready, she sailed the day after Talcott joined her; and, sorry am I to be compelled to add, that she was never heard of, after clearing the Cattegat. The equinox of that season was tremendously severe, and it caused the loss of many vessels; that of the Hyperion doubtless among the rest.

Marble insisted on taking Talcott's place, and he now became my chief-mate, as I had once been his. After a little delay, I took in freight on Russian government account, and sailed for Odessa. It was thought the Sublime Porte would let an American through; but, after reaching the Dardanelles, I was ordered back, and was obliged to leave my cargo in Malta, which it was expected would be in possession of its own knights by that time, agreeably to the terms of the late treaty. From Malta I sailed for Leghorn, in quest of another freight. I pass over the details of these voyages, as really nothing worthy of being recorded occurred. They consumed a good deal of time; the delay at the Dardanelles alone exceeding six weeks, during which negotiations were going on up at Constantinople, but all in vain. In consequence of all these detentions, and the length of the passages, I did not reach Leghorn until near the close of March, I wrote to Grace and Mr. Hardinge, whenever a favourable occasion offered, but I did not get a letter from home, during the whole period. It was not in the power of my sister or guardian—late guardian would be the most accurate expression, as I had been of age since the previous October—to write, it being impossible for me to let them know when, or where, a letter would find me. It followed, that while my friends at home were kept tolerably apprised of my movements, I was absolutely in the dark as respected them. That this ignorance gave me great concern, it would be idle to deny; yet, I had a species of desperate satisfaction in keeping aloof, and in leaving the course clear to Mr. Andrew Drewett. As respects substantials, I had sent a proper power of attorney to Mr. Hardinge, who, I doubted not, would take the same care of my temporal interests he had never ceased to do since the day of my beloved mother's death.

Freights were not offering freely at Leghorn, when the Dawn arrived. After waiting a fortnight, however, I began to take in for America, and on American account. In the meantime, the cargo coming to hand slowly, I left Marble to receive it, and proceeded on a little excursion in Tuscany, or Etruria, as that part of the world was then called. I visited Pisa, Lucca, Florence, and several other intermediate towns. At Florence, I passed a week looking at sights, and amusing myself the best way I could. The gallery and the churches kept me pretty busy, and the reader will judge of my surprise one day, at hearing my own name uttered on a pretty high key, by a female voice, in the Duomo, or Cathedral of the place. On turning, I found myself in the presence of the Brighams! I was overwhelmed with questions in a minute. Where had I been? Where was Talcott? Where was the ship? When did I sail, and whither did I sail? After this came the communications. They had been to Paris; had seen the French Consul, and had dined with Mr. R. N. Livingston, then negotiating the treaty of Louisiana; had seen the Louvre; had been to Geneva; had seen the Lake; had seen Mont Blanc; had crossed Mont Cenis; had been at Milan; Rome; had seen the Pope; Naples; had seen Vesuvius; had been at Paestum; had come back to Florence, and nous voici! Glad enough was I, when I got them fairly within the gates of the City of the Lily. Next came America; from which part of the world they received such delightful letters! One from Mrs. Jonathan Little, a Salem lady then residing in New York, had just reached them. It contained four sheets, and was full of news. Then commenced the details; and I was compelled to listen to a string of gossip that connected nearly all the people of mark, my informants had ever heard of in the great Commercial Emporium that was to be. How suitable is this name! Emporium would not have been sufficiently distinctive for a town in which “the merchants” are all in all; in which they must have the post-office; in which they support the nation by paying all the revenue; in which the sun must shine and the dew fall to suit their wants; and in which the winds, themselves, may be recreant to their duty, when they happen to be foul! Like the Holy Catholic Protestant Episcopal Church, Trading Commercial Trafficking Emporium should have been the style of such a place; and I hope, ere long, some of the “Manor Born” genii of that great town, will see the matter rectified.

“By the way, Captain Wallingford,” cut in Jane, at one of Sarah's breathing intervals, that reminded me strongly of the colloquial Frenchman's “s'il crache il est perdu,” “You know something of poor Mrs. Bradfort, I believe?”

I assented by a bow.

“It was just as we told you,” cried Sarah, taking her revenge. “The poor woman is dead! and, no doubt, of that cancer. What a frightful disease! and how accurate has our information been, in all that affair!”

“I think her will the most extraordinary of all,” added Mr. Brigham, who, as a man, kept an eye more to the main chance. “I suppose you have heard all about her will, Captain Wallingford?”

I reminded the gentleman that this was the first I had ever heard of the lady's death.

“She has left every dollar to young Mr. Hardinge, her cousin's son;” added Jane, “cutting off that handsome, genteel, young lady his sister, as well as her father, without a cent”—in 1803, they just began to speak of cents, instead of farthings—“and everybody says it was so cruel!”

“That is not the worst of it,” put in Sarah. “They do say, Miss Merton, the English lady that made so much noise in New York—let me see, Mr. Brigham, what Earl's grand-daughter did we hear she was?—”

This was a most injudicious question, as it gave the husband an opportunity to take the word out of her mouth.

“Lord Cumberland's, I believe, or some such person—-but, no matter whose. It is quite certain, General Merton, her father, consents to let her marry young Mr. Hardinge, now Mrs. Bradfort's will is known; and, as for the sister, he declares he will never give her a dollar.”

“He will have sixteen thousand dollars a year,” said Jane, with emphasis.

“Six, my dear, six”—returned the brother, who had reasonably accurate notions touching dollars and cents, or he never would have been travelling in Italy; “six thousand dollars a year, was just Mrs. Bradfort's income, as my old school-fellow Upham told me, and there isn't another man in York, who can tell fortunes as true as himself. He makes a business of it, and don't fail one time in twenty.”

“And is it quite certain that Mr. Rupert Hardinge gets all the fortune of Mrs. Bradfort?” I asked, with a strong effort to seem composed.

“Not the least doubt of it, in the world. Everybody is talking about it; and there cannot well be a mistake, you know, as it was thought the sister would be an heiress, and people generally take care to be pretty certain about that class. But, of course, a young man with that fortune will be snapped up, as a swallow catches a fly. I've bet Sarah a pair of gloves we hear of his marriage in three months.”

The Brighams talked an hour longer, and made me promise to visit them at their hotel, a place I could not succeed in finding. That evening, I left Florence for Leghorn, writing a note of apology, in order not to be rude. Of course, I did not believe half these people had told me; but a part, I made no doubt, was true. Mrs. Bradfort was dead, out of all question; and I thought it possible she might not so far have learned to distinguish between the merit of Lucy, and that of Rupert, to leave her entire fortune to the last. As for the declaration of the brother that he would give his sister nothing, that seemed to me to be rather strong for even Rupert. I knew the dear girl too well, and was certain she would not repine; and I was burning with the desire to be in the field, now she was again penniless.

What a change was this! Here were the Hardinges, those whom I had known as poor almost as dependants on my own family, suddenly enriched. I knew Mrs. Bradfort had a large six thousand a year, besides her own dwelling-house, which stood in Wall Street, a part of the commercial emporium that was just beginning to be the focus of banking, and all other monied operations, and which even then promised to become a fortune of itself. It is true, that old Daniel M'Cormick still held his levees on his venerable stoop, where all the heavy men in town used to congregate, and joke, and buy and sell, and abuse Boney; and that the Winthrops, the Wilkeses, the Jaunceys, the Verplancks, the Whites, the Ludlows, and other families of mark, then had their town residences in this well-known street; but coming events were beginning “to cast their shadows before,” and it was easy to foresee that this single dwelling might at least double Rupert's income, under the rapid increase of the country and the town. Though Lucy was still poor, Rupert was now rich.

If family connection, that all-important and magical influence, could make so broad a distinction between us, while I was comparatively wealthy, and Lucy had nothing, what, to regard the worst side of the picture, might I not expect from it, when the golden scale preponderated on her side. That Andrew Drewett would still marry her, I began to fear again. Well, why not? I had never mentioned love to the sweet girl, fondly, ardently as I was attached to her; and what reason had I for supposing that one in her situation could reserve her affections for a truant sailor? I am afraid I was unjust enough to regret that this piece of good fortune should have befallen Rupert. He must do something for his sister, and every dollar seemed to raise a new barrier between us.

From that hour, I was all impatience to get home. Had not the freight been engaged, I think I should have sailed in ballast. By urging the merchants, however, we got to sea May 15th, with a full cargo, a portion of which I had purchased on my own account, with the money earned by the ship, within the last ten months. Nothing occurred worthy of notice, until the Dawn neared the Straits of Gibraltar. Here we were boarded by an English frigate, and first learned the declaration of a new war between France and England; a contest that, in the end, involved in it all the rest of christendom. Hostilities had already commenced, the First Consul having thrown aside the mask, just three days after we left port. The frigate treated us well, it being too soon for the abuses that followed, and we got through the pass without further molestation.

As soon as in the Atlantic, I took care to avoid everything we saw, and nothing got near us, until we had actually made the Highlands of Navesink. An English sloop-of-war, however, had stood into the angles of the coast, formed by Long Island and the Jersey shore, giving us a race for the Hook. I did not know whether I ought to be afraid of this cruiser, or not, but my mind was made up, not to be boarded if it could be helped. We succeeded in passing ahead, and entered the Hook, while he was still a mile outside of the bar. I got a pilot on the bar, as was then very usual, and stood up towards the town with studding-sails set, it being just a twelvemoth, almost to an hour, from the day when I passed up the bay in the Crisis. The pilot took the ship in near Coenties slip, Marble's favourite berth, and we had her secured, and her sails unbent before the sun set.