Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXII No. 4, April 1848

"Did it? Oh! I'm so sorry!" said Mary. "Hold here, while I kiss the place to make it well; there now, don't it feel much better? See! I've got my lips all blood, haven't I? Shall I wipe it off with my handkerchief, or – "

Langley took the hint and kissed the rich ripe lips of his lovely companion, red with nothing but her own warm blood.

"By Jupiter!" cried my shipmate, "Mary, you are the strangest girl I ever saw. One minute I think you love me, the next that you care nothing at all for me; one minute the most teasing little devil, and the next the dearest creature in all the world."

"What am I now?" asked Mary.

"You are the most angelic, adorable – "

"Take care, sir," cried Mary, shaking her finger; "don't have a relapse, or you'll catch it again."

"Well, what shall I say then?" demanded poor Bill, in despair; "you are as hard to please as the skipper of a mud-scow."

"Talk sensibly if you wish, but don't indulge in such lofty flights, unless you have a mind to soar out of hearing. Now, then, Will, what were you about to say?"

"This," said my shipmate, taking the hand of his charming companion, and speaking like a frank, manly fellow, as he really was, "this, dear Mary, that I love you heartily and truly, and have loved you ever since we were children. At present I am a poor seaman, but I hope in a few years to rise in my profession, till I am able to support a wife in the style to which you have been accustomed, if then you will give me your hand I shall be more happy than I can express. Now, don't tease me any longer, but tell me if I have any chance."

Mary's coquettish air was gone. While Langley had been speaking her face became suffused with a charming blush, which extended even to her heaving bosom, and when he finished she raised her eyes, bright and tearful, to his. "William," said she, "you have spoken candidly, without doubt, and deserve a candid answer. If when you become the mate of a ship you are willing to be burthened with me for a wife, dear Will, you can doubtless have me by asking papa."

"Come, Ellen," said I, "let's go now."

CHAPTER X.

The Gentile loses her fore-topsail

The hours flew like lightning until Friday arrived. I went to the convent in the morning, and in an interview with Sister Agatha informed her that in the evening she would probably be called to the sick bed of Ellen. Mr. Stowe bade us good-bye and sailed in the Havana steam-boat at noon, that his presence at the catastrophe might not seem suspicious. At sunset I bade farewell to dear little Ellen, who was indeed as pale as death, and in an hour afterward was on board the ship, where I found every thing in readiness for a hasty departure, the top-sails, jib and spanker were loosed, the anchor at the bows, and its place supplied by a small kedge, attached to the ship by a hawser, easily cut in case of need; the awnings were struck, and the decks covered with rigging and sails. The boat's crew who were to go on the expedition of the evening had already been selected, and were in high spirits at the probable danger, romance and novelty of the affair.

"By thunder! Frank," said Jack Reeves, shaking my hand furiously when I appeared on the forecastle, "you're a trump and no mistake."

"Arrah! now, Masther Frank, how yaller it is ye're lookin'; but it's you that's the boy to get the weather gage of Yaller Jack, let alone the nuns; wont we have a thumping time this night?"

"Why, Teddy, are you going with us? You are the last man I should have thought to enlist in an expedition of this kind!"

"Ay, ay, Masther Frank, its rather agen my conscience, to be sure; but it's the skipper's orders, and I alwus goes by that maxum, ' 'bey orders if you break owners.'"

"Then the skipper has ordered you to go – "

"Of coorse; in the first place he says that he'll send no man into danger widout tellin' him of it, the jewel, and then he just stated the case, and sez he, 'which of yees will go, b'ys?' an' wid that uz all stipt for'ard. 'What,' sez the owld man, sez he, 'Teddy, I thought you was a Catholic!' 'Faix! an' I am that, yer honor,' sez I, makin' a big sign of the cross, 'long life to the Pope and the clargy!' 'It's a nun we're goin' to abductionize to-night,' sez he, 'I thought you understood that.' 'I know that, yer honor,' sez I, 'but if you will jist plaze to order me to go, I can't help meself, and so your own sowl will be damned, beggin' yer honor's pardon,' sez I, 'and not mine.' The officers all laughed, and the owld man, sez he, 'Teddy, you're quite ingenuous!' 'Thank yer honor,' sez I, 'but I'll cotton to Ichabod Green in that line, since he invinted the new spun-yarn mill.'"

Soon after sundown the land wind from the south set in smartly, and by eight o'clock we were not a little fearful lest our kedge might drag. The captain's gig was brought to the stairs, and the party chosen for the expedition took their places, the first mate and ship's cousin and six stout seamen, well armed. Stewart was very nervous and silent; the only remark he made after we left the ship was when we swept by the end of the mole.

It was just nine o'clock when we hauled into the shade of the summer-house and its vines at the foot of Mr. Stowe's garden. I was commissioned to go to the house while the rest staid by the boat. On the stairs of the back verandah I met Mary Stowe.

"Is it you, Frank?" she asked.

"Ay, ay; is Cousin Clara here?"

"Oh, yes! in Ellen's room, and the Superior is in the parlor with mother. Ellen has been terribly sick, but she was well enough to whisper just now, 'Give Frank my best love.'"

"Here, Mary," said I, "give her this kiss a thousand times."

"Oh, heavens! what a pretty one! But I must go and send Sister Agatha to you; we've got a hard part to act when her flight is discovered. I say, Frank, give Langley my love; don't wonder at it now, adieu! I'll see you in two years."

"I waited impatiently for two minutes, which seemed two hours; at last I heard a light step on the stairs, and in a moment more held the runaway nun in my arms.

"Courage!" said I, "you are safe."

Throwing a cloak over her, we hastily ran down the orange-walk. I could not suppress a sigh as I passed the place where Ellen had told me that she thought she loved me. In a moment we reached the boat; Stewart stood upon the shore to receive us, caught the fainting form of Cousin Clara in his arms, and bore her apparently lifeless to the stern-sheets; the men shipped their oars, and I seized the rudder-lines, and gave the word of command.

"Push off – let fall – give way – and now pull for your lives."

The boat shot like lightning down the narrow river to its mouth, then across the broad bay, glittering in the first rays of the just risen moon. The band was playing as we rapidly shot past the barracks.

I sat near the lovers in the stern-sheets, and heard Stewart whisper, "Dearest, do you remember that old Castilian air?" The answer was inaudible, but from the long kiss that Stewart pressed upon the lips which replied to him, I judged that the reply was in the affirmative. At last the ship was reached, and the passengers of the boat were safely transferred to the broad, firm deck of the old Gentile.

The reader will excuse my describing the scene which ensued, for, as I have before said, and as the reader has probably assented, description is not my forte; beside, I am in a devil of a hurry to get the ship under weigh, or all will be lost.

The hawser was cut, and we wore round under our jib; the top-sails were hoisted and filled out before the breeze, and we began our voyage toward home. Sail after sail was set, and the noble old ship danced merrily and swiftly along, leaving the scene of my cousin's suffering far astern; and, alas! every moment adding to the distance between Ellen and me. The lights of the distant city, shining through the mazy rigging of the shipping before it, grew dimmer and more faint, and finally, entirely disappeared; the wide ocean was before us.

The next morning we were seventy miles from the nearest land of Cuba; and ten days afterward the marine lists of the Boston papers announced the arrival of the ship Gentile, Smith, from Matanzas.

CHAPTER XI.

In which the fullness of the Gentiles is accomplished

Great was the joy of my father and mother, and good little sisters, at the unexpected appearance of Cousins Pedro and Clara. The money of the former, it may be recollected, had been brought to Boston in the Cabot, and placed in my father's hands, and though Pedro could not be called a rich man, still the sum now paid him by his uncle was very handsome. This, by advice, was invested in an India venture to send by the Gentile; and my Cousin Pedro, in consequence of this and my father's recommendation, was appointed supercargo of that ship by Mr. Selden, the merchant who had chartered her.

Captain Smith was removed to a new and larger vessel; and the Gentile's list of officers, when she cleared for Canton, stood thus, Benjamin Stewart, master; Pedro Garcia, supercargo; Micah Brewster, 1st officer; William Langley, 2nd do.; Frank Byrne, 3rd do. Jack Reeves was also in the forecastle, but Teddy staid by his old skipper.

It was a very pleasant day when we sailed from the end of Long Wharf; but we had got nearly under weigh before Captain Stewart came on board.

"That's always the way with these new married skippers," growled the pilot, as he gave orders to hoist the maintop-sail."

About a month ago, the senior partner of the firm of Byrne & Co. was heard to say, that he had in his employ three sea captains who had each one wooed his wife in broad daylight, in a garden of the city of Matanzas.

ILENOVAR.

FROM A STORY OF PALENQUE.

A FRAGMENT.

BY WM. GILMORE SIMMS, AUTHOR OF "THE YEMASSEE," "RICHARD HURDIS," ETC

Weary, but now no longer girt by foes,
He darkly stood beside that sullen wave,
Watching the sluggish waters, whose repose
Imaged the gloomy shadows in his heart;
Vultures, that, in the greed of appetite,
Still sating blind their passionate delight,