The Red Rover & Other Sea Adventures – 3 Novels in One Volume. Джеймс Фенимор Купер
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delicious and invigorating breathings of a fine October morning. “It is such purifiers as this, that gives our island its character, and makes it perhaps the very healthest as it is universally admitted to be the beautifullest spot in creation.—A stranger here, ‘tis likely?”
“But quite lately arrived, sir,” was the reply.
“A sea-faring man, by your dress? and one in search of a ship, as I am ready to qualify to;” continued the publican, chuckling, perhaps, at his own penetration. “We have many such that passes hereaway; but people mustn’t think, because Newport is so flourishing a town, that births can always be had for asking. Have you tried your luck yet in the Capital of the Bay Province?”
“I left Boston no later than the day before yesterday.”
“What, couldn’t the proud townsfolk find you a ship! Ay, they are a mighty people at talking, and it isn’t often that they put their candle under the bushel; and yet there are what I call good judges, who think Narraganset Bay is in a fair way, shortly, to count as many sail as Massachusetts. There, yonder, is a wholesome brig, that is going, within the week, to turn her horses into rum and sugar; and here is a ship that hauled into the stream no longer ago than yesterday sun-down. That is a noble vessel and has cabins fit for a prince! She’ll be off with the change of the wind; and I dare say a good hand wouldn’t go a-begging aboard her just now. Then yonder is a slaver, off the fort, if you like a cargo of wool-heads for your money.”
“And is it thought the ship in the inner harbour will sail with the first wind?” demanded the stranger.
“It is downright. My wife is a full cousin to the wife of the Collector’s clerk; and I have it straight that the papers are ready, and that nothing but the wind detains them. I keep some short scores, you know, friend, with the blue-jackets, and it behoves an honest man to look to his interests in these hard times. Yes, there she lies; a well-known ship, the ‘Royal Caroline.’ She makes a regular v’yage once a year between the Provinces and Bristol, touching here, out and home, to give us certain supplies, and to wood and water; and then she goes home, or to the Carolinas, as the case may be.”
“Pray, sir, has she much of an armament?” continued the stranger, who began to lose his thoughtful air, in the more evident interest he was beginning to lake in the discourse.
“Yes, yes; she is not without a few bull-dogs, to bark in defence of her own rights, and to say a word in support of his Majesty’s honour, too; God bless him! Judy! you Jude!” he shouted, at the top of his voice, to a negro girl, who was gathering kindling-wood among the chips of a ship-yard, “scamper over to neighbour Homespun’s, and rattle away at his bed-room windows: the man has overslept himself it is not common to hear seven o’clock strike, and the thirsty tailor not appear for his bitters.”
A short cessation took place in the dialogue, while the wench was executing her master’s orders. The summons produced no other effect than to draw a shrill reply from Desire, whose voice penetrated, through the thin board coverings of the little dwelling as readily as sound would be conveyed through a sieve. In another moment a window was opened, and the worthy housewife thrust her disturbed visage into the fresh air of the morning.
“What next! what next!” demanded the offended and, as she was fain to believe, neglected wife, under the impression that it was her truant husband, making his tardy return to his domestic allegiance, who had thus presumed to disturb her slumbers. “Is it not enough that you have eloped from my bed and board, for a long night, but you must dare to break in on the natural rest of a whole family, seven blessed children, without counting their mother! O Hector! Hector! an example are you getting to be to the young and giddy, and a warning will you yet prove to the unthoughtful!”
“Bring hither the black book,” said the publican to his wife, who had been drawn to a window by the lamentations of Desire; “I think the woman said something about starting on a journey between two days; and, if such has been the philosophy of the good-man, it behoves all honest people to look into their accounts. Ay, as I live, Keziah, you have let the limping beggar get seventeen and sixpence into arrears, and that for such trifles as morning-drams and night-caps!”
“You are wrathy, friend, without reason; the man has made a garment for the boy at school, and found the”—
“Hush, good woman,” interrupted her husband returning the book, and making a sign for her to retire; “I dare say it will all come round in proper Time, and the less noise we make about the backslidings of a neighbour, the less will be said of our own transgressions. A worthy and hard-working mechanic, sir,” he continued, addressing the stranger “but a man who could never get the sun to shine in at his windows, though, Heaven knows, the glass is none too thick for such a blessing.”
“And do you imagine on evidence as slight as this we have seen, that such a man has actually absconded?”
“Why, it is a calamity that has befallen his betters!” returned the publican, interlocking his fingers across the rotundity of his person, with an air of grave consideration. “We inn-keepers—who live, as it were, in plain sight of every man’s secrets; for it is after a visit to us that one is apt truly to open his heart—should know something of the affairs of a neighbourhood. If the good-man Homespun could smooth down the temper of his companion as easily as he lays a seam into its place, the thing might not occur, but——Do you drink this morning, sir?”
“A drop of your best.”
“As I was saying,” continued the other, while he furnished his customer, according to his desire, “if a tailor’s goose would take the wrinkles out of the ruffled temper of a woman, as it does out of the cloth; and then, if, after it had done this task, a man might eat it, as he would yonder bird hanging behind my bar—Perhaps you will have occasion to make your dinner with us, too, sir?”
“I cannot say I shall not,” returned the stranger, paying for the dram he had barely tasted; “it greatly depends on the result of my inquiries concerning the different vessels in the port.”
“Then would I, though perfectly disinterested, as you know, sir, recommend you to make this house your home, while you sojourn in the town. It is the resort of most of the sea-faring men; and I may say this much of myself, without conceit—No man can tell you more of what you want to know, than the landlord of the ‘Foul Anchor.’”
“You advise an application to the Commander of this vessel, in the stream, for a birth: Will she sail so soon as you have named?”
“With the first wind. I know the whole history of the ship, from the day they laid the blocks for her keel to the minute when she let her anchor go where you now see her. The great Southern Heiress, General Grayson’s fine daughter, is to be a passenger she, and her overlooker, Government-lady, I believe they call her—a Mrs Wyllys—are waiting for the signal, up here, at the residence of Madam de Lacey; she that is the relict of the Rear-Admiral of that name, who is full-sister to the General; and, therefore, an aunt to the young lady, according to my reckoning. Many people think the two fortunes will go together; in which case, he will be not only a lucky man, but a rich one, who gets Miss Getty Gray son for a wife.”
The stranger, who had maintained rather an indifferent manner during the close of the foregoing dialogue appeared now disposed to enter into it, with a degree of interest suited to the sex and condition of the present subject of their discourse. After waiting to catch the last syllable that the publican chose to expend his breath on, he demanded, a little abruptly,—
“And you say the house near us, on the rising ground, is the residence of Mrs de Lacey?”
“If I did, I know nothing of the matter. By ‘up here,’ I mean half a mile off. It is a place fit for a lady of her quality, and none of your elbowy dwellings like these crowded about us. One may easily tell the house, by its pretty blinds and its shades. I’ll engage there are no such shades, in all Europe, as them very trees that stand before the door of Madam de Lacey.”
“It is very probable,” muttered the stranger, who, not appearing quite as sensitive in his provincial admiration as the publican, had already relapsed into his former