I told my passengers of the manner in which our old friend had disappeared, and inquired if anything had been seen of the whale-boat, or the schooner, on the night of the tropical tempest.
"Nothing"—answered the Major. "So far from expecting to lay eyes on the 'Beautiful Emily,' again, we supposed you would be off for Canton by the end of the fortnight that succeeded our own departure. At least, that was poor Le Compte's version of the matter. I am certain however, that no sail was seen from this ship, during the whole passage; nor, had we any storm like that you have described. More beautiful weather, I never met at sea."
Upon this, I sent for the log-book, and ascertained, by day and date, that the Crisis was not within fifty leagues of the spot, where we encountered the thunder-squall. Of course the ship we saw was a stranger; most probably a whaler. This destroyed any little hope that was left concerning Marble's fate.
But it is time I should mention a galanterie of poor Le Compte's. He was well provided with shipwrights—better, indeed, than with seamen—as was apparent by the readiness with which he had constructed the schooner. During the passage from Marble Land, he had set these workmen about building a poop on the Crisis' quarter-deck, and I found the work completed. There was a very pretty, airy cabin, with two state-rooms communicating with light quarter-galleries, and everything that is customary with such accommodations. Furniture had been made, with French dexterity and taste, and the paint was just dry to receive it. Emily and her father were to take possession of these new accommodations the very day succeeding that in which the ship fell again into our hands. This alteration was not such as I would have made, as a seaman; and I wonder Mons. Le Compte, who had the gauntlet to run through the most formidable navy in the world, should have ventured on it, since it sensibly affected the ship's sailing on a wind. But, now it was peace, I cared little about it, and determined to let it remain, so long, at least, as Miss Merton continued on board.
That very night, therefore, the Major occupied one of the state-rooms, and his daughter the other. Imitating poor Le Compte's gallantry, I gave them a separate table, though I took quite half my meals with them, by invitation. Emily did not absolutely dress my wound, a flesh injury in the shoulder, that office falling to her father's share, who had seen a good deal of service, and was familiar with the general treatment of hurts of this nature; but she could, and did, show many of those gentle and seductive attentions, that the tenderness of her sex can alone bestow, with full effect, on man. In a fortnight my hurt was cured, though Emily had specifics to recommend, and advice to bestow, until we were both ashamed to allude to the subject any longer.
As for the passage, it was just such a one as might be expected to occur, in the trades of the Pacific. The ship was under studding-sails nearly the whole time, making, day in and day out, from a hundred and twenty to two hundred miles in the twenty-four hours. The mates kept the watches, and I had little to do, but to sit and chat with the Major and his daughter, in the cool, airy cabin, that Le Compte had provided for us; listen to Emily's piano, which had been transferred from the prize, and subsequently saved from the wreck; or read aloud out of some of the two or three hundred beautifully bound, and sweetly-scented volumes that composed her library. In that day, people read Pope, and Young, and Milton, and Shakspeare, and that sort of writers; a little relieved by Mrs. Radcliffe, and Miss Burney, and Monk Lewis, perhaps. As for Fielding and Smollet, they were well enough in their place, which was not a young lady's library, however. There were still more useful books, and I believe I read everything in the ship, before the voyage ended. The leisure of a sea-life, in a tranquil, well-ordered vessel, admits of much study; and books ought to be a leading object in the fitting out that portion of a vessel's equipment which relates chiefly to the welfare of her officers and crew.
Time passed pleasantly enough, with a young fellow who had certainly some reason to be satisfied with his own success thus far in life, and who could relieve the tedium of ship's duty in such society. I cannot say I was in love, though I often thought of Emily when she was not before my eyes, and actually dreamt of her three times, in the first fortnight after the re-capture of the ship. What was a little remarkable, as I conceive, I often found myself drawing comparisons between her and Lucy, though I hardly knew why, myself. The result was very much after this sort;—Emily had vastly the advantage in all that related to art, instruction, training—I am wrong, Mr. Harding had given his daughter a store of precise, useful knowledge, that Emily did not possess; and then I could not but see that Lucy's tact in moral feeling, was much of the highest order of the two. But, in purely conventional attainments, in most that relates to the world, its usages, its finesse of feeling and manner, I could see that Emily was the superior. Had I known more myself, I could have seen that both were provincial—for England, in 1801, was but a province, as to mere manners, though on a larger scale than America is even now—and that either would have been remarked for peculiarities, in the more sophisticated circles of the continent of Europe. I dare say, half my own countrymen would have preferred Lucy's nature to the more artificial manner of Emily; but, it will not do to say that even female deportment, however delicate and feminine nature may have made it, cannot be improved by certain general rules for the government of that which is even purely conventional. On the whole, I wished that Lucy had a little of Emily's art, and Emily a good deal more of Lucy's nature. I suppose the perfection in this sort of thing is to possess an art so admirable that it shall appear to be nature, in all things immaterial, while it leaves the latter strictly in the ascendant, in all that is material.
In person, I sometimes fancied Emily was the superior, and, sometimes, when memory carried me back to certain scenes that had occurred during my last visit to Clawbonny, that it was Lucy. In complexion, and perhaps in eyes, the English girl beat her rival; possibly, also, in the teeth; though Lucy's were very even and white; but, in the smile, in the outline of the face, most especially in the mouth, and in the hands, feet, and person generally, I think nine judges in ten would have preferred the American. One peculiar charm was common to both; and it is a charm, though the strongest instance I ever saw of it in my life, was in Italy, that may be said to belong, almost exclusively, to the Anglo-Saxon race: I mean that expression of the countenance which so eminently betokens feminine purity and feminine tenderness united; the look which artists love to impart to the faces of angels. Each of the girls had much of this; and I suppose it was principally owing to their heavenly blue eyes. I doubt if any woman with black, or hazel eyes notwithstanding all the brilliancy of their beauty, ever possessed this charm in the higher degree. It belonged to Grace even more than to Lucy or Emily; though, of the two last, I think the English girl possessed it, in a slight degree, the most, so far as it was connected with mere shading and colour; while the American exhibited the most of it, in moments of feeling and emotion. Perhaps, this last advantage was owing to Lucy's submitting most to nature, and to her impulses. It must be remembered, however, that I had not seen Lucy, now, for near two years; and two of the most important years of a young female's life, as respected her personal appearance.
As relates to character, I will not now speak as plainly as I shall be called on to do, hereafter. A youth of twenty is not the best judge of such things, and I shall leave events to tell their own story, in this particular.
We had been at sea a fortnight, when happening to allude to the pearl fishery, I bethought me of my own prizes. A ship that carries a numerous crew, is a sort of omnium gatherum, of human employments. For ordinarily manned craft, seamen are necessary; but ships of war, privateers and letters-of-marque, can afford, as poor Marble would express it, to generalize. We had several tradesmen in the Crisis—mechanics, who found the restraints of a ship necessary for their own good—and, among others, we happened to have a goldsmith. This man had offered to perforate my pearls, and to string them; an operation to which I consented. The fellow had performed his task as well as could be desired, and suppl
ying from his own stores a pair of suitable clasps, had formed the whole into a simple, but as beautiful a necklace, as I ever laid eyes on. He had put the largest pearl of all directly in the centre, and then arranged the remainder, by placing several of the smaller together separated by one of the second size, until the whole formed a row that would much more than encircle my own neck, and which, of course, would drop gracefully round that of a female.
When I produced this beautiful ornament, one that a woman of rank might have coveted, Emily did not endeavour to conceal her admiration. Unaccustomed, herself, to the higher associations of her own country, she had never seen a necklace of the same value, and she even fancied it fit for a queen. Doubtless, queens usually possess much more precious pearls than those of mine, and yet it was to be supposed they would not disdain to wear even such as they. Major Merton examined the necklace carefully, and I could see by his countenance, he was surprised and pleased.
On the whole, I think it may be questioned, if any other man enjoys as many physical advantages with the same means, as the Americans. I speak more of his habits, than of his opportunities; but I am of opinion, after seeing a good deal of various parts of the world, that the American of moderate fortune has more physical indulgences than any other man. While this is true, however, as a whole, there are certain points on which he signally fails. He fails often, when it comes to the mere outward exhibition; and it is probable there is not a single well-ordered household—meaning for the purposes of comfort and representation united—in the whole country. The particular deficiency, if deficiency it be, applies in an almost exclusive degree to the use of precious stones, jewelry, and those of the more valuable metals in general. The ignorance of the value of precious stones is so great, that half the men, meaning those who possess more or less of fortune, do not even know the names of those of the commoner sorts. I doubt, if one educated American in twenty could, even at this moment, tell a sapphire from an amethyst, or a turquoise from a garnet; though the women are rather more expert as lapidaries. Now, I was a true American in this respect; and, while I knew I possessed a very beautiful ornament, I had not the smallest idea of its value, as an article of commerce. With the Major it was different. He had studied such things, and he had a taste for them. The reader will judge of my surprise, therefore, when I heard him say:—
"That necklace, in the hands of Rundle and Bridges, would bring a thousand pounds, in London!"
"Father!" exclaimed Emily.
"I do think it. It is not so much the size of the pearls, though these largest are not common even in that particular, but it is their extreme beauty; their colour and transparency—their water, as it is called."
"I thought that a term applied only to diamonds"—observed Emily, with an interest I wished she had not manifested.
"It is also applied to pearls—there are pearls of what is called the 'white water,' and they are of the sort most prized in Europe. The 'yellow water' are more esteemed among nations of darker skins; I suppose that is the secret. Yes, I think if you send this necklace to London, Wallingford, you will get six or eight hundred pounds for it."
"I shall never sell it, sir—at least, not as long as I can avoid it."
I saw that Emily looked at me, with an earnestness for which I could not account.
"Not sell it!—" repealed her father—"Why, what in the name of Neptune can you do with such an ornament?"
"Keep it. It is strictly my own. I brought it up, from the bottom of the sea, with my own hands; removed the pearls from what the editors would call their 'native homes' myself, and I feel an interest in them, that I never could feel in any ornament that was purchased."
"Still, this will prove rather an expensive taste. Pray, What interest do you obtain for money, in your part of the world, Wallingford?"
"Six per cent., in New York, sir, perhaps, on the better sort of permanent securities."
"And how much is sixty pounds sterling, when turned into dollars?"
"We usually say five for one, though it is not quite that; from two hundred and eighty to two hundred and ninety, all things considered—though two hundred and sixty-six, nominally, or thereabouts."
"Well, even two hundred and sixty-six dollars a year, is a good deal for a young man like you to pay, for the pleasure of saying he owns a pearl necklace that he cannot use."
"But it cost me nothing, sir, and of course I can lose nothing by it."
"I rather think you will lose what I tell you, if the ornament can be sold for that sum. When a man has property from which he might derive an income, and does not, he is, in one sense, and that the most important, a loser."
"I have a sister, Major Merton; I may possibly give it to her—or, should I marry, I would certainly give it to my wife."
I could see a smile struggling about the mouth of the major, which I was then too young, and I may add, too American, to understand. The incongruity of the wife of a man of two thousand, or five and twenty hundred dollars a-year, wearing two years' income round her neck, or of being magnificent in only one item of her dress, household, or manner of living, never occurred to my mind. We can all laugh when we read of Indian chiefs wearing uniform-coats, and cocked-hats, without any other articles of attire; but we cannot imagine inconsistencies in our own cases, that are almost as absurd in the eyes of highly sophisticated and conventional usages. To me, at that age, there was nothing in the least out of the way, in Mrs. Miles Wallingford's wearing the necklace, her husband being unequivocally its owner. As for Emily, she did not smile, but continued to hold the necklace in her own very white, plump hand, the pearls making the hand look all the prettier, while the hand assisted to increase the lustre of the pearls. I ventured to ask her to put the necklace on her neck. She blushed slightly, but she complied.
"Upon my word, Emily," exclaimed the gratified father, "you become each other so well, that I am losing a prejudice, and begin to believe even a poor man's daughter may be justified in using such an ornament."
The sight was certainly sufficient to justify anything of the sort. The dazzling whiteness of Miss Merlon's skin, the admirable outlines of her throat and bust, and the flush which pleasure gave her cheeks, contributed largely to the beauty of the picture. It would have been difficult to say, whether the charms of the woman ornamented the pearls, or those of the pearls ornamented the woman! I remember I thought, at the time, my eyes had never dwelt on any object more pleasing, than was Miss Merton during the novelty of that spectacle. Nor did the pleasure cease, on the instant; for I begged her to continue to wear the necklace during the remainder of the day; a request with which she had the good nature to comply. Which was most gratified by this exhibition, the young lady or myself, it might be difficult to say; for there is a mutual satisfaction in admiring, and in being admired.
When I went into the cabin to say good-night, I found Emily Merton, with the necklace in her hand, gazing at it, by the light of a powerful lamp, with eyes as liquid and soft as the pearls themselves. I stood still to admire her; for never before had I seen her so bewitchingly beautiful. Her countenance was usually a little wanting in intellectual expression, though it possessed so much of that which I have described as angelic; but, on this occasion, it seemed to me, to be full of ideas. Can it be possible, whispered conceit—and what very young man is entirely free from it—can it be possible, she is now thinking how happy a woman Mrs. Miles Wallingford will one day be?—Am I in any manner connected with that meditating brow, that reflecting air, that fixed look, that pleased and yet doubting expression?
"I was about to send for you, Captain Wallingford," said Emily, the instant she saw me, and confirming my conceited conjectures, by blushing deeper than I had seen her before, in the whole of that blushing, sensitive, and enjoyable day; "about to send for you, to take charge of your treasure."
"And could you not assume that much responsibility, for a single night?"
"'T would be too great—it is an honour reserved for Mrs. Wallingford, you know."
I was dressing next morning, when Neb came bolting into my state-room, with his Clawbonny freedom of manner, his eyes looking lobsters, and his necklace of pearl, glittering between a pair of lips that might have furnished a cannibal two famous steaks. As soon as fairly established in command, I had brought the fellow aft, berthing him in the steerage, in order to have the benefit of more of his personal service than I could obtain while he was exclusively a foremast Jack. Still, he kept his watch; for it would have been cruel to deprive, him of that pleasure.
"Oh! Masser Mile!" exclaimed the black, as soon as he could speak; "'e boat!—'e boat!"
"What of the boat?—Is any one overboard?"
"'E whale-boat, sir!—Poor Captain Marble—'e whale-boat, sir!"
"I understand you, Neb—go on deck, and desire the officer of the watch to heave-to the ship, as soon as it is proper; I will come up, the instant I can."
Here, then, I thought, Providence has brought us on the track of the unfortunate whale-boat; and we shall doubtless see the mutilated remains of some of our old companions—poor Marble, doubtless, from what Neb said—well, the will of God be done. I was soon dressed; and, as I went up the cabin-ladder, the movement on deck denoted the nature of the excitement that now prevailed generally, in the ship. Just as I reached the quarter-deck, the main-yard swung round, and the sails were brought aback. The whole crew was in commotion, and it was some little time before I could learn the cause.
The morning was misty, and the view round the ship, until within a few minutes, had been confined to a circle of less than a mile in diameter. As the sun rose, however, the mist broke away gradually, and then the watch caught a view of the whale-boat mentioned by Neb. Instead of being floating about on the ocean, with the remains of its unfortunate crew lying in its bottom, as I had expected to see it, when I caught the first glimpse of the unlooked-for object, it was not a mile distant, pulling briskly for us, and containing not only a full, but a strong and an animated crew.
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