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
“You must have observed, that the events of this little excursion on
the water, have been rather of a domestic than of a public character;”
he said. “Thy father was a very ancient and much-esteemed friend of
mine, and I am far from certain that there is not some affinity between
us, in the way of intermarriages. Thy worthy mother, who is a thrifty
woman, and a small talker, had some of the blood of my own stock. It
would grieve me to see the good understanding, which these
recollections have created, in any manner interrupted. I admit, sir,
that revenue is to the state what the soul is to the body—the moving
and governing principle; and that, as the last would be a tenantless
house without its inhabitants, so the first would be an exacting and
troublesome master without its proper products. But there is no need of
pushing a principle to extremities! If this brigantine be, as you
appear to suspect, and indeed as we have some reason from various
causes to infer, the vessel called the Water-Witch she might have been
a legal prize had she fallen into your power; but now that she has
escaped, I cannot say what may be your intentions; but were thy
excellent father, the worthy member of the King’s Council, living, so
discreet a man would think much before he opened his lips, to say more
than is discreet, on this or any other subject.”
“Whatever course I may believe my duty dictates, you may safely rely on
my discretion concerning the—the remarkable—the very decided step which
your niece has seen proper to take;” returned the young man, who did
not make this allusion to Alida without betraying, by the tremor of his
voice, how great was her influence still over him. “I see no necessity
of violating the domestic feelings to which you allude, by aiding to
feed the ears of the idly curious, with the narrative of her errors.”
Ludlow stopped suddenly, leaving the uncle to infer what he would wish
to add.
“This is generous, and manly, and like a loyal—lover, Captain Ludlow,”
returned the Alderman; “though it is not exactly what I intended to
suggest. We will not, however, multiply words in the night air—ha! when
the cat is asleep, the mice are seen to play! Those night-riding,
horse-racing blacks have taken possession of Alida’s pavilion; and we
may be thankful the poor girl’s rooms are not as large as Harlaem
Common, or we should hear the feet of some hard-driven beast galloping
about in them.”
The Alderman, in his turn, cut short his speech, and started as if one
of the spukes of the colony had suddenly presented itself to his eyes.
His language had drawn the look of his companion towards la Cour des
Fées; and Ludlow had, at the same moment as the uncle, caught an
unequivocal view of la belle Barbérie, as she moved before the open
window of her apartment. The latter was about to rush forward, but the
hand of Myndert arrested the impetuous movement.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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