The Water-Witch; Or, the Skimmer of the Seas: A TaleCooper, James Fenimore
General
The Water-Witch; Or, the Skimmer of the Seas: A Tale
Cooper, James Fenimore
Sea stories
“Consent and joy! The girl need not have stolen to church to become the
bride of Oloff Van Staats!” interrupted the Alderman. “She should have
had my benediction on the match, and a fat gift to give it unction.”
“These suspicions are but natural, between men bent on the same
object,” resumed the free-trader. “The officer of the Queen thinks a
glance of the eye, from a wilful fair, means admiration of broad lands
and rich meadows; and the lord of the manor distrusts the romance of
warlike service, and the power of an imagination which roams the sea.
Still may I ask, what is there here, to tempt a proud and courted
beauty to forget station, sex, and friends?”
“Caprice and vanity! There is no answering for a woman’s mind! Here we
bring articles, at great risk and heavy charges, from the farther
Indies, to please their fancies, and they change their modes easier
than the beaver casts his coat. Their conceits sadly unsettle trade,
and I know not why they may not cause a wilful girl to do any other act
of folly.”
“This reasoning seems conclusive with the uncle. Do the suitors assent
to its justice?”
The Patroon of Kinderhook had stood gazing, long and earnestly, at the
countenance of the extraordinary being who asked this question. A
movement, which bespoke, equally, his conviction and his regret,
escaped him, but he continued silent. Not so Ludlow. Of a more ardent
temperament, though equally sensible of the temptation which had caused
Alida to err, and as keenly alive to all the consequences to herself,
as well as to others, there was something of professional rivalry, and
of an official right to investigate, which still mingled with his
feelings. He had found time to examine more closely the articles that
the cabin contained, and when their singular host put his question, he
pointed, with an ironical but mournful smile, to a footstool richly
wrought in flowers of tints and shades so just as to seem natural.
“This is no work of a sail-maker’s needle!” said the captain of the
Coquette. “Other beauties have been induced to pass an idle hour in
your gay residence, hardy mariner; but, sooner or later, judgment will
overtake the light-heeled craft.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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