The Red Rover & Other Sea Adventures – 3 Novels in One Volume. Джеймс Фенимор Купер
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thoughtful pause of a moment.
“Honest Joram, and yourself.”
“But no one else?”
“None that I saw,” returned the other, with a manner that betrayed a slight uneasiness; “if you think otherwise, let us overhaul the room. Should my hand fall on a listener, the salute will not be light.”
“Hold—answer me one question; who bade me enter?”
Tarry Bob, who had arisen with a good deal of alacrity, now reflected in his turn for an instant, and then he closed his musing, by indulging in a low laugh.
“Ah! I see that you have got your ideas a little jammed. A man cannot talk the same, with a small portion of ox in his mouth, as though his tongue had as much sea-room as a ship four-and-twenty hours out.”
“Then, you spoke?”
“I’ll swear to that much,” returned Bob, resuming his seat like one who had settled the whole affair to his entire satisfaction; “and now, friend Harris, if you are ready to lay bare your mind, I’m just as ready to look at it.”
Wilder did not appear to be quite as well content with the explanation as his companion, but he drew a chair, and prepared to open his subject.
“I am not to tell you, friend, after what you have heard and seen, that I have no very strong desire that the lady with whom we have both spoken this morning, and her companion, should, sail in the ‘Royal Caroline.’ I suppose it is enough for our purposes that you should know the fact; the reason why I prefer they should remain where they are, can be of no moment as to the duty you are to undertake.”
“You need not tell an old seaman how to gather in the slack of a running idea!” cried Bob, chuckling and winking at his companion in a way that displeased the latter by its familiarity; “I have not lived fifty years on blue water, to mistake it for the skies.”
“You then fancy, sir, that my motive is no secret to you?”
“It needs no spy-glass to see, that, while the old people say, ‘Go,’ the young people would like to stay where they are.”
“You do both of the young people much injustice then; for, until yesterday, I never laid eyes on the person you mean.”
“Ah! I see how it is; the owners of the ‘Caroline’ have not been so civil as they ought, and you are paying them a small debt of thanks!”
“That is possibly a means of retaliation that might suit your taste,” said Wilder, gravely; “but which is not much in accordance with mine. The whole of the parties are utter strangers to me.”
“Hum! Then I suppose you belong to the vessel in the outer harbour; and, though you don’t hate your enemies, you love your friends. We must contrive the means to coax the ladies to take passage in the slaver.”
“God forbid!”
“God forbid! Now I think, friend Harris, you set up the backstays of your conscience a little too taught. Though I cannot, and do not, agree with you in all you have said concerning the ‘Royal Caroline,’ I see no reason to doubt but we shall have but one mind about the other vessel. I call her a wholesome looking and well proportioned craft, and one that a King might sail in with comfort.”
“I deny it not; still I like her not.”
“Well, I am glad of that; and, since the matter is fairly before us, master Harris, I have a word or two to say concerning that very ship. I am an old sea-dog, and one not easily blinded in matters of the trade. Do you not find something, that is not in character for an honest trader, in the manner in which they have laid that vessel at her anchors, without the fort, and the sleepy look she bears, at the same time that any one may see she is not built to catch oysters, or to carry cattle to the islands?”
“As you have said, I think her a wholesome and a tight-built ship. Of what evil practice, however, do you suspect her?—perhaps she robs the revenue?”
“Hum! I am not sure it would be pleasant to smuggle in such a vessel, though your contraband is a merry trade, after all. She has a pretty battery, as well as one can see from this distance.”
“I dare say her owners are not tired of her yet and would gladly keep her from falling into the hands of the French.”
“Well, well, I may be wrong; but, unless sight is going with my years, all is not as it would be on board that slaver, provided her papers were true, and she had the lawful name to her letters of marque. What think you, honest Joe, in this matter?”
Wilder turned, impatiently, and found that the landlord had entered the room, with a step so as to have escaped his attention, which had been drawn to his companion with a force that the reader will readily comprehend. The air of surprise, with which Joram regarded the speaker, was certainly not affected; for the question was repeated, and in still more definite terms, before he saw fit to reply.
“I ask you, honest Joe, if you think the slaver, in the outer harbour of this port, a true man?”
“You come across one, Bob, in your bold way, with such startling questions,” returned the publican, casting his eyes obliquely around him, as if he would fain make sure of the character of the audience to which he spoke, “such stirring opinions, that really I am often non-plushed to know how to get the ideas together, to make a saving answer.”
“It is droll enough, truly, to see the landlord of the ‘Foul Anchor’ dumb-foundered,” returned the old man, with perfect composure in mien and eye. “I ask you, if you do not suspect something wrong about that slaver?”
“Wrong! Good heavens, mister Robert, recollect what you are saying. I would not, for the custom of his Majesty’s Lord High Admiral, have any discouraging words be uttered in my house against the reputation of any virtuous and fair-dealing slavers! The Lord protect me from blacking the character of any honest subject of the King!”
“Do you see nothing wrong, worthy and tender Joram, about the ship in the outer harbour?” repeated mister Robert, without moving eye, limb, or muscle.
“Well, since you press me so hard for an opinion and seeing that you are a customer who pays freely for what he orders, I will say, that, if there is any thing unreasonable, or even illegal, in the deportment of the gentlemen”—
“You sail so nigh the wind, friend Joram,” coolly interrupted the old man, “as to keep every thing shaking. Just bethink you of a plain answer: Have you seen any thing wrong about the slaver?”
“Nothing, on my conscience, then,” said the publican, puffing not unlike a cetaceous fish that had come to the surface to breathe; “as I am an unworthy sinner, sitting under the preaching of good and faithful Dr Dogma, nothing—nothing”
“No! Then are you a duller man than I had rated you at! Do you suspect nothing?”
“Heaven protect me from suspicions! The devil besets all our minds with doubts; but weak, and evil inclined, is he who submits to them. The officers and crew of that ship are free drinkers, and as generous as princes: Moreover, as they never forget to clear the score before they leave the house, I call them—honest!”
“And I call them—pirates!”
“Pirates!” echoed Joram, fastening his eye, with marked distrust, on the countenance of the attentive Wilder. “‘Pirate’ is a harsh word, mister Robert, and should not be thrown in any gentleman’s face without testimony enough to clear one in an action of defamation, should such a thing get fairly before twelve sworn and conscientious men. But I suppose you know what you say, and before whom you say it.”
“I do; and now, as it seems that your opinion in this matter amounts to just nothing at all, you will please”
“To do any thing you order,” cried Joram, very evidently delighted to change the subject.
“To go and ask the customers below if they are dry,” continued the other, beckoning for the publican