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
“I confess to have seen your countenance, changing sides, like a member
of parliament turning to a new leaf in his conscience, at the
Minister’s signal while you overhauled a bit of paper——”
“Whose contents you could not know!”
“Whose contents I took to be some private orders, given by a lady who
is too much of a coquette herself, to accept your offer to sail in a
vessel of the same name.”
“By Heavens, the fellow has reason in his inexplicable impudence!”
muttered Ludlow, pacing backward and forward beneath the shadow of the
tree. “The language and the acts of the girl are in contradiction; and
I am a fool to be trifled with, like a midshipman fresh broken loose
from his mother’s apron-string. Harkee, Master-a-a—You’ve a name I
suppose, like any other straggler on the ocean.”
“Yes. When the hail is loud enough to be heard, I answer to the call of
Thomas Tiller.”
“Well then, Master Tiller, so clever a seaman should be glad to serve
the Queen.”
“Were it not for duty to another, whose claim comes first, nothing
could be more agreeable than to lend a lady in distress a helping
hand.”
“And who is he, who may prefer a claim to your services, in competition
with the majesty of these realms?” demanded Ludlow, with a little of
the pretension that, when speaking of its privileges, is apt to
distinguish the manner of one who has been accustomed to regard royalty
with reverence.
“Myself. When our affairs call us the same way no one can be readier
than I, to keep Her Majesty’s company; but——”
“This is presuming too far, on the trifling of a moment,” interrupted
Ludlow; “you know, sirrah, that I have the right to command your
services, without entering into a parley for them; and which,
notwithstanding your gay appearance, may, after all, be little worth
the trouble.”
“There is no need to push matters to extremity, between us, Captain
Ludlow,” resumed the stranger who had appeared to muse for a moment,
“If I have baffled your pursuit once to-day, it was perhaps to make my
merit in entering the ship freely, less undeniable. We are here alone,
and your honor will account it no boasting, if I say that a man, well
limbed and active, who stands six feet between plank and earline, is
not likely to be led against his will, like a yawl towing at the stern
of a four-and-forty. I am a seaman, sir; and though the ocean is my
home, I never venture on it without sufficient footing. Look abroad
from this hill, and say whether there is any craft in view, except the
cruiser of the Queen, which would be likely to suit the taste of a
mariner of the long voyage?”
“By which you would have me understand, you are here in quest of
service?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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