TALES OF THE SEA: 12 Maritime Adventure Novels in One Volume (Illustrated)
his motives in seeking the interview. The pilot paced for several minutes back and forth, in front of the place where she was seated, in profound silence, as if communing with himself; when suddenly throwing off his air of absence, he came to her side, and assumed a position similar to the one which she herself had taken.
“The hour is at hand, Alice, when we must part,” he at length commenced; “it rests with yourself whether it shall be forever.”
“Let it then be forever, John,” she returned, with a slight tremor in her voice.
“That word would have been less appalling had this accidental meeting never occurred. And yet your choice may have been determined by prudence—for what is there in my fate that can tempt a woman to wish that she might share it?”
“If ye mean your lot is that of one who can find but few, or even none, to partake of his joys, or to share in his sorrows—whose life is a continual scene of dangers and calamities, of disappointments and mishaps—then do ye know but little of the heart of woman, if ye doubt of either her ability or her willingness to meet them with the man of her choice.”
“Say you thus, Alice? then have I misunderstood your meaning or misinterpreted your acts. My lot is not altogether that of a neglected man, unless the favor of princes and the smiles of queens are allowed to go for nothing. My life is, however, one of many and fearful dangers; and yet it is not filled altogether with calamities and mishaps; is it, Alice?” He paused a moment, but in vain, for her answer. “Nay, then, I have been deceived in the estimation that the world has affixed to my combats and enterprises! I am not, Alice, the man I would be, or even the man I had deemed myself.”
“You have gained a name, John, among the warriors of the age,” she answered, in a subdued voice; “and it is a name that may be said to be written in blood!”
“The blood of my enemies, Alice!”
“The blood of the subjects of your natural prince! The blood of those who breathe the air you first breathed, and who were taught the same holy lessons of instruction that you were first taught; but, which, I fear, you have too soon forgotten!”
“The blood of the slaves of despotism!” he sternly interrupted her; “the blood of the enemies of freedom! You have dwelt so long in this dull retirement, and you have cherished so blindly the prejudices of your youth, that the promise of those noble sentiments I once thought I could see budding in Alice Dunscombe has not been fulfilled.”
“I have lived and thought only as a woman, as become my sex and station,” Alice meekly replied; “and when it shall be necessary for me to live and think otherwise, I should wish to die.”
“Ay, there lie the first seeds of slavery! A dependent woman is sure to make the mother of craven and abject wretches, who dishonor the name of man!”
“I shall never be the mother of children, good or bad,” said Alice, with that resignation in her tones that showed she had abandoned the natural hopes of her sex. “Singly and unsupported have I lived; alone and unlamented must I be carried to my grave.”
The exquisite pathos of her voice, as she uttered this placid speech, blended as it was with the sweet and calm dignity of virgin pride, touched the heart of her listener, and he continued silent many moments, as if in reverence of her determination. Her sentiments awakened in his own breast those feelings of generosity and disinterestedness which had nearly been smothered in restless ambition and the pride of success. He resumed the discourse, therefore, more mildly, and with a much greater exhibition of deep feeling, and less of passion, in his manner.
“I know not, Alice, that I ought, situated as I am, and contented, if not happy, as you are, even to attempt to revive in your bosom those sentiments which I was once led to think existed there. It cannot, after all, be a desirable fate, to share the lot of a rover like myself; one who may be termed a Quixote in the behalf of liberal principles, and who may be hourly called to seal the truth of those principles with his life.”
“There never existed any sentiment in my breast, in which you are concerned, that does not exist there still, and unchanged,” returned Alice, with her single-hearted sincerity.
“Do I hear you right? or have I misconceived your resolution to abide in England? or have I not rather mistaken your early feelings?”
“You have fallen into no error now nor then, The weakness may still exist, John; but the strength to struggle with it has, by the goodness of God, grown with my years. It is not, however, of myself, but of you, that I would speak. I have lived like one of our simple daisies, which in the budding may have caught your eye; and I shall also wilt like the humble flower, when the winter of my time arrives, without being missed from the fields that have known me for a season. But your fall, John, will be like that of the oak that now supports us, and men shall pronounce on the beauty and grandeur of the noble stem while standing, as well as of its usefulness when felled.”
“Let them pronounce as they will!” returned the proud stranger. “The truth must be finally known: and when, that hour shall come, they will say, he was a faithful and gallant warrior in his day; and a worthy lesson for all who are born in slavery, but would live in freedom, shall be found in his example.”
“Such may be the language of that distant people, whom ye have adopted in the place of those that once formed home and kin to ye,” said Alice, glancing her eye timidly at his countenance, as if to discern how far she might venture, without awakening his resentment; “but what will the men of the land of your birth transmit to their children, who will be the children of those that are of your own blood?”
“They will say, Alice, whatever their crooked policy may suggest, or their disappointed vanity can urge. But the picture must be drawn by the friends of the hero, as well as by his enemies! Think you, that there are not pens as well as swords in America?”
“I have heard that America called a land, John, where God has lavished his favors with an unsparing hand; where he has bestowed many climes with their several fruits, and where his power is exhibited no less than his mercy. It is said her rivers are without any known end, and that lakes are found in her bosom which would put our German Ocean to shame! The plains, teeming with verdure, are spread over wide degrees; and yet those sweet valleys, which a single heart can hold, are not wanting. In short, John, I hear it is a broad land, that can furnish food for each passion, and contain objects for every affection.”
“Ay, you have found those, Alice, in your solitude, who have been willing to do her justice! It is a country that can form a world of itself; and why should they who inherit it look to other nations for their laws?”
“I pretend not to reason on the right of the children of that soil to do whatever they may deem most meet for their own welfare,” returned Alice—“but can men be born in such a land, and not know the feelings which bind a human being to the place of his birth?”
“Can you doubt that they should be patriotic?” exclaimed the Pilot, in surprise. “Do not their efforts in this sacred cause—their patient sufferings—their long privations—speak loudly in their behalf?”
“And will they who know so well how to love home sing the praises of him who has turned his ruthless hand against the land of his fathers?”
“Forever harping on that word home!” said the Pilot, who now detected the timid approaches of Alice to her hidden meaning. “Is a man a stick or a stone, that he must be cast into the fire, or buried in a wall, wherever his fate may have doomed him to appear on the earth? The sound of home is said to feed the vanity of an English man, let him go where he will; but it would seem to have a still more powerful charm with English women!”
“It is the dearest of all terms to every woman, John, for it embraces the dearest of all ties! If your dames of America are ignorant of its charm, all the favors which God has lavished on their land will avail their happiness but little.”
“Alice,” said the Pilot, rising in his agitation, “I see but too well the object of your allusions. But on this subject we can never agree; for not even