We’ll attend you there:
Where, if you bring not Marcius, we’ll proceed
In our first way.
CORIOLANUS.
Eve and Mademoiselle Viefville had been unwilling spectators of a portion of the foregoing scene, and Captain Ducie felt a desire to apologise for the part he had been obliged to act in it. For this purpose he had begged his friend the baronet to solicit a more regular introduction than that received through Captain Truck.
“My friend Ducie is solicitous to be introduced, Miss Effingham, that he may urge something in his own behalf concerning the commotion he has raised among us.”
A graceful assent brought the young commander forward, and as soon as he was named he made a very suitable expression of his regret to the ladies, who received it as a matter of course, favourably.
“This is a new duty to me, the arrest of criminals,” added Captain Ducie.
The word criminals sounded harsh to the ear of Eve, and she felt her cheek becoming pale.
“Much as we regret the cause,” observed the father “we can spare the person you are about to take from us without much pain; for we have known him for an impostor from the moment he appeared. — Is there not some mistake? That is the third trunk that I have seen passed into the boat marked P. P.”
Captain Ducie smiled, and answered, —
“You will call it a bad pun if I say P. P. see,” pointing to Paul, who was coming from the cabin attended by Captain Truck. The latter was conversing warmly, gesticulating towards the corvette, and squeezing his companion’s hand.
“Am I to understand,” said Mr. Effingham earnestly, “that Mr. Powis, too, is to quit us?”
“He does me the favour, also,” — Captain Ducie’s lip curled a little at the word favour,— “to accompany me to England.”
Good breeding and intense feeling caused a profound suspense, until the young man himself approached the party. Paul endeavoured to be calm, and he even forced a smile as he addressed his friends.
“Although I escape the honours of a marine guard,” he said, — and Eve thought he said it bitterly, “I am also to be taken out of the ship. Chance has several times thrown me into your society, Mr. Effingham — Miss Effingham — and, should the same good fortune ever again occur, I hope I may be permitted to address you at once as an old acquaintance.”
“We shall always entertain a most grateful recollection of your important services, Mr. Powis,” returned the father, “and I shall not cease to wish that the day may soon arrive when I can have the pleasure of receiving you under my own roof.”
Paul now offered to take the hand of Mademoiselle Viefville, which he kissed gallantly. He did the same with Eve’s, though she felt him tremble in the attempt. As these ladies had lived much in countries in which this graceful mode of salutation prevails among intimates, the act passed as a matter of course.
With Sir George Templemore, Paul parted with every sign of good-will. The people, to whom he had caused a liberal donation to be made, gave him three cheers, for they understood his professional merits at least; and Saunders, who had not been forgotten, attended him assiduously to the side of the ship. Here Mr. Leach called, “the Foam’s away!” and Captain Ducie’s gig was manned. At the gangway Captain Truck again shook Paul cordially by the hand, and whispered something in his ear.
Every thing being now ready, the two gentlemen prepared to go into the boat. As Eve watched all that passed with an almost breathless anxiety, a little ceremonial that now took place caused her much pain. Hitherto the manner of Captain Ducie, as respected his companion, had struck her as equivocal. At times it was haughty and distant, while at others it had appeared more conciliatory and kind. All these little changes she had noted with a jealous interest, and the slightest appearance of respect or of disrespect was remarked, as if it could furnish a clew to the mystery of the whole procedure.
“Your boat is ready, sir,” said Mr. Leach, stepping out of the gangway to give way to Paul, who stood nearest to the ladder.
The latter was about to proceed, when he was touched lightly on the shoulder by Captain Ducie, who smiled, Eve thought haughtily, and intimated a desire to precede him. Paul coloured, bowed, and falling back, permitted the English officer to enter his own boat first.
“Apparemment ce captaine Anglais est un pen sans façon — Voilà qui est poli!” whispered Mademoiselle Viefville.
“These commanders of vessels of war are little kings,” quietly observed Mr. Effingham, who had unavoidably noticed the whole procedure.
The gig was soon clear of the ship, and both the gentlemen repeated their adieus to those on deck. To reach the corvette, to enter her, and to have the gig swinging on her quarter occupied but five minutes.
Both ships now filled away, and the corvette began to throw out one sheet of cloth after another until she was under a cloud of canvas, again standing to the eastward with studding-sails alow and aloft. On the other hand, the Montauk laid her yards square, and ran down to the Hook. The pilot from the corvette had been sent on board the packet, and, the wind standing, by eleven o’clock the latter had crossed the bar. At this moment the low dark stern of the Foam resembled a small black spot on the sea sustaining a pyramid of cloud.
“You were not on deck, John, to take leave of our young friend Powis,” said Mr. Effingham, reproachfully.
“I do not wish to witness a ceremony of this extraordinary nature. And yet it might have been better if I had.”
“Better, cousin Jack!”
“Better. Poor Monday committed to my care certain papers that, I fancy, are of moment to some one, and these I intrusted to Mr. Powis, with a view to examine them together when we should get in. In the hurry of parting, he has carried them off.”
“They may be reclaimed by writing to London,” said Mr. Effingham quietly. “Have you his address?”
“I asked him for it; but the question appeared to embarrass him.”
“Embarrass, cousin Jack!”
“Embarrass, Miss Effingham.”
The subject was now dropped by common consent. A few moments of awkward silence succeeded, when the interest inseparable from a return home, after an absence of years, began to resume its influence, and objects on the land were noticed. The sudden departure of Paul was not forgotten, however; for it continued the subject of wonder with all for weeks, though little more was said on the subject.
The ship was soon abreast of the Hook, which Eve compared, to the disadvantage of the celebrated American haven with the rocky promontories and picturesque towers of the Mediterranean.
“This portion of our bay, at least, is not very admirable,” she said, “though there is a promise of something better above.”
“Some New-York cockney, who has wandered from the crackling heat of his Nott stove, has taken it into his poetical imagination to liken this bay to that of Naples,” said John Effingham; “and his fellow-citizens greedily swallow the absurdity, although there is scarcely a single feature in common to give the foolish opinion value.”
“But the bay above is beautiful!”
“Barely pretty: when one has seen it alone, for many years, and has forgotten the features of other bays, it does not appear amiss; but you, fresh from the bolder landscapes of Southern Europe, will be disappointed.”
Eve, an ardent admirer of nature, heard this with regret, for she had as much confidence in the taste of her kinsman as in his love of truth. She knew he was superior to the vulgar vanity of giving an undue merit to a thing because he had a right of property in it; was a man of the world, and knew what he uttered on all such matters; had not a particle of provincial admiration or of provincial weakness MI his composition; and, although as ready as another, and far more able than most, to defend his country and her institutions from the rude assault of her revilers, that he seldom made the capital mistake of attempting to defend a weak point.
The scenery greatly improved, in fact, however, as the ship advanced; and while she went through the pass called the Narrows, Eve expressed her delight. Mademoiselle Viefville was in ecstasies, not so much with the beauties of the place as with the change from the monotony of the ocean to the movement and liveliness of the shore.
“You think this noble scenery?” said John Effingham.
“As far from it as possible, cousin Jack. I see much meanness and poverty in the view, but at the same time it has fine parts. The islands are not Italian, certainly; nor these hills, nor yet that line of distant rocks; but, together, they form a pretty bay, and a noble one in extent and uses at least.”
“All this is true. Perhaps the earth does not contain another port with so many advantages for commerce. In this respect I think it positively unequalled; but I know a hundred bays that surpass it in beauty. Indeed in the Mediterranean it is not easy to find a natural haven that does not.”
Eve was too fresh from the gorgeous coast of Italy to be in ecstasies with the meagre villages and villas that, more or less, lined the bay of New-York; but when they reached a point where the view of the two rivers, separated by the town, came before them, with the heights of Brooklyn, heights comparatively if not positively, on one side, and the receding wall of the palisadoes on the other, Eve insisted that the scene was positively fine.
“You have well chosen your spot,” said John Effingham; “but even this is barely good. There is nothing surpassing about it.”
“But it is home, cousin Jack.”
“It is home, Miss Effingham,” he answered, gaping, “and as you have no cargo to sell, I fear you will find it an exceedingly dull one.”
“We shall see — we shall see,” returned Eve, laughing. Then, looking about her for a few minutes, she added with a manner in which real and affected vexation were prettily blended, “In one thing I do confess myself disappointed.”
“You will be happy, my dear, if it be in only one.”
“These smaller vessels are less picturesque than those I have been accustomed to see.”
“You have hit upon a very sound criticism, and, by going a little deeper into the subject, you will discover a singular deficiency in this part of an American landscape. The great-height of the spars of all the smaller vessels of these waters, when compared with the tame and level coast, river banks, and the formation of the country in general, has the effect to diminish still more the outlines of any particular scene. Beautiful as it is, beyond all competition, the Hudson would seem still more so, were it not for these high and ungainly spars.”
The pilot now began to shorten sail, and the ship drew into that arm of the sea which, by a misnomer peculiarly American, it is the fashion to call the East River. Here our heroine candidly expressed her disappointment, the town seeming mean and insignificant. The Battery, of which she remembered a little, and had heard so much, although beautifully placed, disappointed her, for it had neither the extent and magnificence of a park, nor the embellishments and luxurious shades of a garden. As she had been told that her countrymen were almost ignorant of the art of landscape gardening, she was not so much disappointed with this spot, however, as with the air of the town, and the extreme filth and poverty of the quays. Unwilling to encourage John Effingham in his diposition to censure, she concealed her opinions for a time.
“There is less improvement here than even I expected,” said Mr. Effingham, as they got into a coach on the wharf. They had taught me, John, to expect great improvements. “And great, very great improvements have been made in your absence. If you could see this place as you knew it in youth, the alterations would seem marvellous.”
“I cannot admit this. With Eve, I think the place mean in appearance, rather than imposing, and so decidedly provincial as not to possess a single feature of a capital.”
“The two things are not irreconcilable, Ned, if you will take the trouble to tax your memory. The place is mean and provincial; but thirty years since it was still meaner and more provincial than it is to-day. A century hence it will begin to resemble a large European town.”
“What odious objects these posts are!” cried Eve.
“They give the streets the air of a village, and I do not see their uses.”
“These posts are for awnings, and of themselves they prove the peculiar country character of the place. If you will reflect, however, you will see it could net well be otherwise. This town to-day contains near three-hundred thousand souls, two-thirds of whom are in truth emigrants from the interior of our own, or of some foreign country; and such a collection of people cannot in a day give a town any other character than that which belongs to themselves. It is not a crime to be provincial and rustic; it is only ridiculous to fancy yourselves otherwise, when the fact is apparent.”
“The streets seem deserted. I had thought New York a crowded town.”
“And yet this is Broadway, a street that every American will tell you is so crowded as to render respiration impossible.”
“John Effingham excepted,” said Mr. Effingham smiling.
“Is this Broadway?” cried Eve, fairly appalled.
“Beyond a question. Are you not smothered?”
Eve continued silent until the carriage reached the door of her father’s house. On the other hand, Mademoiselle Viefville expressed herself delighted with all she saw, a circumstance that might have deceived a native of the country, who did not know how to explain her raptures. In the first place she was a Frenchwoman, and accustomed to say pleasant things; then she was just relieved from an element she detested, and the land was pleasant in her eyes. But the principal reason is still in reserve: Mademoiselle Viefville, like most Europeans, had regarded America not merely as a provincial country, and this without a high standard of civilization for a province, as the truth would have shown, but as a semi-barbarous quarter of the world; and the things she saw so much surpassed her expectations, that she was delighted, as it might be, by contrast.
As we shall have a future occasion to speak of the dwelling of Mr. Effingham, and to accompany the reader much further in the histories of our several characters, we shall pass over the feelings of Eve when fairly established that night under her own roof. The next morning, however, when she descended to breakfast, she was met by John Effingham, who gravely pointed to the following paragraph in one of the daily journals.
“The Montauk, London packet, which has been a little out of time, arrived yesterday, as reported in our marina news. This ship has met with various interesting adventures, that, we are happy to hear, will shortly be laid before the world by one of her passengers, a gentleman every way qualified for the task. Among the distinguished persons arrived in this ship is our contemporary, Steadfast Dodge, Esquire, whose amusing and instructing letters from Europe are already before the world. — We are glad to hear that Mr Dodge returns home better satisfied than ever with his own country, which he declares to be quite good enough for him It is whispered that our literary friend has played a conspicuous part in some recent events on the coast of Africa, though his extreme and well known modesty renders him indisposed to speak of the affair; but we forbear ourselves out of respect to a sensibility that we know how to esteem.
“His Britannic Majesty’s ship, Foam, whose arrival we noticed a day or two since, boarded the Montauk off the Hook, and took out of her two criminals, one of whom, we are told, was a defaulter for one hundred and forty thousand pounds, and the other a deserter from the king’s service, though a scion of a noble house. More of this to-morrow.”
The morrow never came, for some new incident took the place of the promised narration. A people who do not give themselves time to eat, and with whom “go ahead” has got to be the substitute of even religion, little troubling themselves to go back twenty-four hours in search of a fact.
“This must be a base falsehood, cousin Jack,” said Eve, as she laid down the paper, her brow flushed with an indignation that, for the moment, proved too strong for even apprehension.
“I hope it may turn out to be so, and yet I consider the affair sufficiently singular to render suspicion at least natural.”
How Eve both thought and acted in the matter, will appear hereafter.
THE END