The Pilot

by James Fenimore Cooper

  "The hospitality of Colonel Howard is unquestionable," returned the boy; "but he has a great reputation for his loyalty to the crown."

  "Ay, young gentleman; and, I trust, with some justice."

  "Would it, then, be safe, to entrust my person in the hands of one who might think it his duty to detain me?"

  "This is plausible enough, Captain Borroughcliffe, and I doubt not the boy speaks with candor. I would, now, that my kinsman, Mr. Christopher Dillon, were here, that I might learn if it would be misprision of treason to permit this youth to depart, unmolested, and without exchange?"

  "Inquire of the young gentleman, after the Cacique," returned the recruiting officer, who, apparently satisfied in producing the exposure of Merry, had resumed his seat at the table; "perhaps he is, in verity, an ambassador, empowered to treat on behalf of his highness."

  "How say you?" demanded the colonel; "do you know anything of my kinsman?"

  The anxious eyes of the whole party were fastened on the boy for many moments, witnessing the sudden change from careless freedom to deep horror expressed in his countenance. At length he uttered in an undertone the secret of Dillon's fate.

  "He is dead."

  "Dead!" repeated every voice in the room.

  "Yes, dead!" said the boy, gazing at the pallid faces of those who surrounded him.

  A long and fearful silence succeeded the announcement of this intelligence, which was only interrupted by Griffith, who said:

  "Explain the manner of his death, sir, and where his body lies."

  "His body lies interred in the sands," returned Merry, with a deliberation that proceeded from an opening perception that, if he uttered too much, he might betray the loss of the Ariel, and, consequently, endanger the liberty of Barnstable.

  "In the sands?" was echoed from every part of the room.

  "Ay, in the sands; but how he died, I cannot explain."

  "He has been murdered!" exclaimed Colonel Howard, whose command of utterance was now amply restored to him; "he has been treacherously, and dastardly, and basely murdered!"

  "He has not been murdered," said the boy, firmly; "nor did he meet his death among those who deserve the name either of traitors or of dastards."

  "Said you not that he was dead? that my kinsman was buried in the sands of the seashore?"

  "Both are true, sir—"

  "And you refuse to explain how he met his death, and why he has been thus ignominiously interred?"

  "He received his interment by my orders, sir; and if there be ignominy about his grave, his own acts have heaped it on him. As to the manner of his death, I cannot, and will not speak."

  "Be calm, my cousin," said Cecilia, in an imploring voice; "respect the age of my uncle, and remember his strong attachment to Mr. Dillon."

  The veteran had, however, so far mastered his feelings, as to continue the dialogue with more recollection.

  "Mr. Griffith," he said, "I shall not act hastily—you and your companions will be pleased to retire to your several apartments. I will so far respect the son of my brother Harry's friend as to believe your parole will be sacred. Go, gentlemen; you are unguarded."

  The two prisoners bowed low to the ladies and their host, and retired. Griffith, however, lingered a moment on the threshold, to say:

  "Colonel Howard, I leave the boy to your kindness and consideration. I know you will not forget that his blood mingles with that of one who is most dear to you."

  "Enough, enough, sir," said the veteran, waving his hand to him to retire: "and you, ladies; this is not a place for you, either."

  "Never will I quit this child," said Katherine, "while such a horrid imputation lies on him. Colonel Howard, act your pleasure on us both, for I suppose you have the power; but his fate shall be my fate."

  "There is, I trust, some misconception in this melancholy affair," said Borroughcliffe, advancing into the centre of the agitated group; "and I should hope, by calmness and moderation, all may yet be explained; young gentleman, you have borne arms, and must know, notwithstanding your youth, what it is to be in the power of your enemies?"

  "Never," returned the proud boy; "I am a captive for the first time."

  "I speak, sir, in reference to our power."

  "You may order me to a dungeon; or, as I have entered the abbey in disguise, possibly to a gibbet."

  "And is that a fate to be met so calmly by one so young?"

  "You dare not do it, Captain Borroughcliffe," cried Katherine, involuntarily throwing an arm around the boy, as if to shield him from harm; "you would blush to think of such a cold-blooded act of vengeance, Colonel Howard."

  "If we could examine the young man, where the warmth of feeling which these ladies exhibit might not be excited," said the captain, apart to his host, "we should gain important intelligence."

  "Miss Howard, and you, Miss Plowden," said the veteran, in a manner that long habit had taught his wards to respect, "your young kinsman is not in the keeping of savages, and you can safely confide him to my custody. I am sorry that we have so long kept Miss Alice standing, but she will find relief on the couches of your drawing-room, Cecilia."

  Cecilia and Katherine permitted themselves to be conducted to the door by their polite but determined guardian, where he bowed to their retiring persons, with the exceeding courtesy that he never failed to use, when in the least excited.

  "You appear to know your danger, Mr. Merry," said Borroughcliffe, after the door was closed; "I trust you also know what duty would dictate to one in my situation."

  "Do it, sir," returned the boy; "you have a king to render an account to, and I have a country."

  "I may have a country also," said Borroughcliffe, with a calmness that was not in the least disturbed by the taunting air with which the youth delivered himself. "It is possible for me, however, to be lenient, even merciful, when the interests of that prince, to whom you allude, are served—you came not on this enterprise alone, sir?"

  "Had I come better attended, Captain Borroughcliffe might have heard these questions, instead of putting them."

  "I am happy, sir, that your retinue has been so small: and yet even the rebel schooner called the Ariel might have furnished you with a more becoming attendance. I cannot but think that you are not far distant from your friends."

  "He is near his enemies, your honor," said Sergeant Drill, who had entered the room unobserved; "for here is a boy who says he has been seized in the old ruin, and robbed of his goods and clothes; and, by his description, this lad should be the thief."

  Borroughcliffe signed to the boy, who stood in the background, to advance; and he was instantly obeyed, with all that eagerness which a sense of injury on the part of the sufferer could excite. The tale of this unexpected intruder was soon told, and was briefly this:

  He had been assaulted by a man and a boy (the latter was in presence), while arranging his effects, in the ruin, preparatory to exhibiting them to the ladies of the abbey, and had been robbed of such part of his attire as the boy had found necessary for his disguise, together with his basket of valuables. He had been put into an apartment of an old tower, by the man, for safe keeping; but as the latter frequently ascended to its turret, to survey the country, he had availed himself of this remissness, to escape; and, to conclude, he demanded a restoration of his property, and vengeance for his wrongs.

  Merry heard his loud and angry details with scornful composure, and before the offended peddler was through his narrative, he had divested himself of the borrowed garments, which he threw to the other with singular disdain.

  "We are beleaguered, mine host! beset! besieged!" cried Borroughcliffe, when the other had ended. "Here is a rare plan to rob us of our laurels! ay, and of our rewards! but, hark ye, Drill! they have old soldiers to deal with, and we shall look into the matter. One would wish to triumph on foot; you understand me?—there was no horse in the battle. Go, fellow, I see you grow wiser; take this young gentleman—and remember he is a young gentleman—put him in safe keeping, b
ut see him supplied with all he wants."

  Borroughcliffe bowed politely to the haughty bend of the body with which Merry, who now began to think himself a martyr to his country, followed the orderly from the room.

  "There is mettle in the lad!" exclaimed the captain; "and if he live to get a beard, 'twill be a hardy dog who ventures to pluck it. I am glad, mine host, that this 'wandering Jew' has arrived, to save the poor fellow's feelings, for I detest tampering with such a noble spirit. I saw, by his eye, that he had squinted oftener over a gun than through a needle!"

  "But they have murdered my kinsman!—the loyal, the learned, the ingenious Mr. Christopher Dillon!"

  "If they have done so, they shall be made to answer it," said Borroughcliffe, reseating himself at the table, with a coolness that furnished an ample pledge of the impartiality of his judgment; "but let us learn the facts, before we do aught hastily."

  Colonel Howard was fain to comply with so reasonable a proposition, and he resumed his chair, while his companion proceeded to institute a close examination of the peddler boy.

  We shall defer, until the proper time may arrive, recording the result of his inquiries; but shall so satisfy the curiosity of our readers, as to tell them that the captain learned sufficient to convince him a very serious attempt was meditated on the abbey; and, as he thought, enough also to enable him to avert the danger.

  Chapter XXVII

  *

  —"I have not seen

  So likely an ambassador of love."

  Merchant of Venice.

  Cecilia and Katherine separated from Alice Dunscombe in the lower gallery of the cloisters; and the cousins ascended to the apartment which was assigned them as a dressing-room. The intensity of feeling that was gradually accumulating in the breasts of the ladies, as circumstances brought those in whom their deepest interests were centred into situations of extreme delicacy, if not of actual danger, perhaps, in some measure, prevented them from experiencing all that concern which the detection and arrest of Merry might be supposed to excite. The boy, like themselves, was an only child of one of those three sisters, who caused the close connection of so many of our characters; and his tender years had led his cousins to regard him with an affection that exceeded the ordinary interest of such an affinity; but they knew that in the hands of Colonel Howard his person was safe, though his liberty might be endangered. When the first emotions, therefore, which were created by his sudden appearance after so long an absence had subsided, their thoughts were rather occupied by the consideration of what consequences, to others, might proceed from his arrest, than by any reflections on the midshipman's actual condition. Secluded from the observations of any strange eyes, the two maidens indulged their feelings, without restraint, according to their several temperaments. Katherine moved to and fro in the apartment, with feverish anxiety, while Miss Howard, by concealing her countenance under the ringlets of her luxuriant dark hair, and shading her eyes with a fair hand, seemed to be willing to commune with her thoughts more quietly.

  "Barnstable cannot be far distant," said the former, after a few minutes had passed; "for he never would have sent that child on such an errand, by himself!"

  Cecilia raised her mild blue eyes to the countenance of her cousin, as she answered:

  "All thoughts of an exchange must now be abandoned; and perhaps the persons of the prisoners will be held as pledges, to answer for the life of Dillon."

  "Can the wretch be dead? or is it merely a threat, or some device of that urchin? He is a forward child, and would not hesitate to speak and act boldly, on emergency."

  "He is dead!" returned Cecilia, veiling her face again in horror; "the eyes of the boy, his whole countenance, confirmed his words! I fear, Katherine, that Mr. Barnstable has suffered his resentment to overcome his discretion, when he learned the treachery of Dillon; surely, surely, through the hard usages of war may justify so dreadful a revenge on an enemy, it was unkind to forget the condition of his own friends!"

  "Mr. Barnstable has done neither, Miss Howard," said Katherine, checking her uneasy footsteps, her light form swelling with pride; "Mr. Barnstable is equally incapable of murdering an enemy or of deserting a friend!"

  "But retaliation is neither deemed nor called murder, by men in arms."

  "Think it what you will, call it what you will, Cecilia Howard, I will pledge my life, that Richard Barnstable has to answer for the blood of none but the open enemies of his country."

  "The miserable man may have fallen a sacrifice to the anger of that terrific seaman, who led him hence as a captive!"

  "That terrific seaman, Miss Howard, has a heart as tender as your own. He is—"

  "Nay, Katherine," interrupted Cecilia, "you chide me unkindly; let us not add to our unavoidable misery, by such harsh contention."

  "I do not contend with you, Cecilia; I merely defend the absent and the innocent from your unkind suspicions, my cousin."

  "Say, rather, your sister," returned Miss Howard, their hands involuntarily closing upon each other, "for we are surely sisters! But let us strive to think of something less horrible. Poor, poor Dillon! now that he has met a fate so terrible, I can even fancy him less artful and more upright than we had thought him! You agree with me, Katherine, I see by your countenance, and we will dwell no longer on the subject.— Katherine! my cousin Kate, what see you?"

  Miss Plowden, as she relinquished her pressure of the hand of Cecilia, had renewed her walk with a more regulated step; but she was yet making her first turn across the room, when her eyes became keenly set on the opposite window, and her whole frame was held in an attitude of absorbed attention. The rays of the setting sun fell bright upon her dark glances, which seemed fastened on some distant object, and gave an additional glow to the mantling color that was slowly stealing, across her cheeks, to her temples. Such a sudden alteration in the manner and appearance of her companion had not failed to catch the attention of Cecilia, who, in consequence, interrupted herself by the agitated question we have related. Katherine slowly beckoned her companion to her side, and, pointing in the direction of the wood that lay in view, she said:

  "See yon tower, in the ruin! Do you observe those small spots of pink and yellow that are fluttering above its walls?"

  "I do. They are the lingering remnants of the foliage of some tree; but they want the vivid tints which grace the autumn of our own dear America!"

  "One is the work of God, and the other has been produced by the art of man. Cecilia, those are no leaves, but they are my own childish signals, and without doubt Barnstable himself is on that ruined tower. Merry cannot, will not, betray him!"

  "My life should be a pledge for the honor of our little cousin," said Cecilia. "But you have the telescope of my uncle at hand, ready for such an event! one look through it will ascertain the truth—"

  Katherine sprang to the spot where the instrument stood, and with eager hands she prepared it for the necessary observation.

  "It is he!" she cried, the instant her eye was put to the glass. "I even see his head above the stones. How unthinking to expose himself so unnecessarily!"

  "But what says he, Katherine?" exclaimed Cecilia; "you alone can interpret his meaning."

  The little book which contained the explanations of Miss Plowden's signals was now hastily produced, and its leaves rapidly run over in quest of the necessary number.

  "Tis only a question to gain my attention. I must let him know he is observed."

  When Katherine, as much to indulge her secret propensities as with any hope of its usefulness, had devised this plan for communicating with Barnstable, she had, luckily, not forgotten to arrange the necessary means to reply to his interrogatories. A very simple arrangement of some of the ornamental cords of the window-curtains enabled her to effect this purpose; and her nimble fingers soon fastened the pieces of silk to the lines, which were now thrown into the air, when these signals in miniature were instantly displayed in the breeze.

  "He sees them!" cried Cecilia, "and i
s preparing to change his flags."

  "Keep then your eye on him, my cousin, and tell me the colors that he shows, with their order, and I will endeavor to read his meaning."

  "He is as expert as yourself! There are two more of them fluttering above the stones again: the upper is white, and the lower black."

  "White over black," repeated Katherine, rapidly, to herself, as she turned the leaves of her book.—"'My messenger: has he been seen?'—To that we must answer the unhappy truth. Here it is— yellow, white, and red—'He is a prisoner.' How fortunate that I should have prepared such a question and answer. What says he, Cecilia, to this news?"

  "He is busy making his changes, dear. Nay, Katherine, you shake so violently as to move the glass! Now he is done; 'tis yellow over black, this time."

  "'Griffith, or who?' He does not understand us; but I had thought of the poor boy, in making out the numbers—ah! here it is; yellow, green, and red—'My cousin Merry'—he cannot fail to understand us now."

  "He has already taken in his flags. The news seems to alarm him, for he is less expert than before. He shows them now—they are green, red, and yellow."

  "The question is, 'Am I safe?' 'Tis that which made him tardy, Miss Howard," continued Katherine. "Barnstable is ever slow to consult his safety. But how shall I answer him? should we mislead him now, how could we ever forgive ourselves!"

  "Of Andrew Merry there is no fear," returned Cecilia; "and I think if Captain Borroughcliffe had any intimation of the proximity of his enemies, he would not continue at the table."

  "He will stay there while wine will sparkle, and man can swallow," said Katherine; "but we know, by sad experience, that he is a soldier on an emergency; and yet, I'll trust to his ignorance this time—here, I have an answer: 'You are yet safe, but be wary.'"

  "He reads your meaning with a quick eye, Katherine; and he is ready with his answer too: he shows green over white, this time. Well! do you not hear me? 'tis green over white. Why, you are dumb—what says he, dear?"

  Still Katherine answered not, and her cousin raised her eyes from the glass, and beheld her companion gazing earnestly at the open page, while the glow which excitement had before brought to her cheek was increased to a still deeper bloom.