Afloat and Ashore (54 page)

"Perfectly well, sir. I am near three thousand dollars in pocket, and
shall have no need to call on you, for my personal wants. Then I have
my prize-money to touch. Even Neb, wages and prize-money, brings me
nine hundred dollars. With your permission, sir, I should like to give
the fellow his freedom."

"Wait till you are of age, Miles, and then you can do as you please. I
hold four thousand dollars of your invested money, which has been paid
in, and I have placed it in stocks. Altogether, I find we can muster,
in solid cash, more than twenty thousand dollars, while the price of
the ship, as she stands, almost ready for sea, is only fifteen. Now,
go and look at the vessel; if you like her, I will close the bargain
at once."

"But, my dear Mr. Hardinge, do you think yourself exactly qualified to
judge of the value of a ship?"

"Poh! poh! don't imagine I am so conceited as to purchase on my own
knowledge. I have taken some of the very best advice of the
city. There is John Murray, to begin with—a great ship-holder,
himself—and Archibald Gracie, and William Bayard—all capital judges,
have taken an interest in the affair. Three others of my friends have
walked round to look at the vessel, and all approve—not a dissenting
voice."

"May I ask, sir, who have seen her, besides the gentlemen you have
named? they, I admit, are, indeed, good judges."

"Why?—why—yes—do you happen to know anything of Dr. Benjamin Moore,
now, Miles?"

"Never heard of him, sir, in my life; but a physician can be no great
judge of a ship."

"No more of a physician than yourself, boy—Dr. Benjamin Moore, the
gentleman we elected Bishop, while you were absent—"

"Oh! he you wished to toast, instead of Miss Peggy Perott—" cried I,
smiling. "Well, what does the Bishop think of her—if he approve, she
must
be orthodox."

"He says she is the handsomest vessel he ever laid eyes on, Miles; and
let me tell you, the favourable opinion of so good a man as Dr. Moore,
is of value, even though it be about a ship."

I could not avoid laughing, and I dare say most of the readers will
also, at this touch of simplicity; and yet, why should not a Bishop
know as much of ships, as a set of ignoramuses who never read a
theological book in their lives, some of them not even the Bible,
should know about Bishops? The circumstance was not a tittle more
absurd than many that are occurring daily before our eyes, and to
which, purely from habit, we submit, very much as a matter of course.

"Well, sir," I replied, as soon as I could, "I will look at the ship,
get her character, and give you an answer at once. I like the idea,
for it is pleasant to be one's own master."

In that day, $15,000 would buy a very excellent ship, as ships
went. The vessel I was taken to see, was coppered and copper-fastened,
butt-bolted, and she measured just five hundred tons. She had a great
reputation as a sailer, and what was thought a good deal of in 1802,
was Philadelphia built. She had been one voyage to China, and was
little more than a year old, or the best possible age for a
vessel. Her name was the "Dawn," and she carried an "Aurora" for her
figure-head. Whether she were, or were not inclined to Puseyism, I
never could ascertain, although I can affirm she had the services of
the Protestant Episcopal Catholic Church read on board her afterwards,
on more than one occasion.

The result of my examination and inquiries was favourable, and, by the
end of the week, the Dawn was purchased. The owners of the Crisis
were pleased to express their regrets, for they had intended that I
should continue in the command of their vessel, but no one could
object to a man's wishing to sail in his own employment. I made this
important acquisition, at what was probably the most auspicious moment
of American navigation. It is a proof of this, that, the very day I
was put in possession of the ship, good freights were offered to no
less than four different parts of the world. I had my choice between
Holland, France, England, and China. After consulting with my
guardian, I accepted that to France, which not only paid the best, but
I was desirous of seeing more of the world than had yet fallen to my
share. I could make a voyage to Bordeaux and back in five months, and
by the end of that time I should be of age, and consequently my own
master. As I intended to have great doings at Clawbonny on that
occasion, I thought it might be well not to go too far from
home. Accordingly, after shipping Talcott and the Philadelphian, whose
name was Walton, for my mates, we began to take in cargo, as soon as
possible.

In the meantime, I bethought me of a visit to the paternal home. It
was a season of the year, when most people, who were anybodies, left
town, and the villas along the shores of the Hudson had long been
occupied. Mr. Hardinge, too, pined for the country and his flock. The
girls had had enough of town, which was getting to be very dull, and
everybody, Rupert excepted, seemed anxious to go up the river. I had
invited the Mertons to pass part of the summer at the farm, moreover,
and it was time the invitation should be renewed, for the Major's
physicians had advised him to choose some cooler residence than the
streets of a hot close town could furnish, during the summer
months. Emily had been so much engrossed with the set into which she
had fallen, since her landing, and which it was easy for me to see was
altogether superior to that in which she had lived at home, that I was
surprised at the readiness with which she urged her father to redeem
his promise.

"Mr. Hardinge tells me, sir, that Clawbonny is really a pretty spot,"
she said, "and the country around it is thought to be very
healthy. You cannot get answers from home (she meant England) for
several months, and I know Captain Wallingford will be happy to
receive us. Besides, we are pledged to accept this additional favour
from him."

I thought Major Merton felt some of my own surprise at Emily's
earnestness and manner, but his resistance was very feeble. The old
gentleman's health, indeed, was pretty thoroughly undermined, and I
began to have serious doubts of his living even to return to
Europe. He had some relatives in Boston, and had opened a
correspondence with them, and I had thought, more than once, of the
expediency of apprising them of his situation. At present however
nothing better could be done than to get him into the country.

Having made all the arrangements with the others, I went to persuade
Rupert to be of the party, for I thought it would make both Grace and
Lucy so much the happier.

"Miles, my dear fellow," said the young student, gaping, "Clawbonny is
certainly a capitalish place, but, you will admit it is somewhat
stupid after New York. My good kinswoman, Mrs. Bradfort, has taken
such a fancy to us all, and has made me so comfortable—would you
believe it, boy, she has actually given me six hundred a year, for the
last two years, besides making Lucy presents fit for a queen. A
sterling woman is she, this cousin Margaret of ours!"

I heard this, truly, not without surprise; for, in settling with my
owners, I found Rupert had drawn every cent to which he was entitled,
under the orders I had left when I last went to sea.

As Mrs. Bradfort was more than at her ease, however, had no nearer
relative than Mr. Hardinge, and was much attached to the family, I had
no difficulty in believing it true, so far as the lady's liberality
was concerned. I heartily wished Rupert had possessed more
self-respect; but he was, as he was!

"I am sorry you cannot go with us," I answered, "for I counted on you
to help amuse the Mertons—"

"The Mertons!—Why, surely, they are not going to pass the summer at
Clawbonny!"

"They quit town with us, to-morrow. Why should not the Mertons pass
the summer at Clawbonny?"

"Why, Miles, my dear boy, you know how it is with the world—how it is
with these English, in particular. They think everything of rank, you
know, and are devotees of style and appearance, and all that sort of
thing, you know, as no one understands better than myself; for I pass
most of my time in the English set, you know."

I did not
then
understand what had come over Rupert, though it
is all plain enough to me,
now
. He had, truly enough, got into
what was then called the English set. Now, there is no question, that,
so far as the natives, themselves, were concerned, this was as good a
set as ever existed in his country; and, it is also beyond all cavil,
that many respectable English persons, of both sexes, were
occasionally found in it; but, it had this great defect:—
every
Englishman who wore a good coat, and had any of the slang of society,
made his way into the outskirts, at least, of this set; and Rupert,
whose own position was not yet thoroughly confirmed, had fallen a
great deal into the association of these accidental comers and
goers. They talked large, drank deep, and had a lofty disdain for
everything in the country, though it was very certain they were just
then in much better company where they were, than they had ever been
at home. Like most tyroes, Rupert fancied these blustering gentry
persons to imitate; and, as they seldom conversed ten minutes without
having something to say of my Lord A—or Sir John B—, persons
they had
read
of, or seen in the streets, he was weak enough to
imagine they knew all about the dignitaries of the British Empire. As
Rupert was really a gentleman, and had good manners naturally, it was
a grievous thing to see him fashioning himself anew, as it might be,
on such very questionable models,

"Clawbonny is not a stylish place, I am ready to allow," I answered,
after a moment of hesitation; "still it is respectable. There is a
good farm, a valuable mill, and a good, old, comfortable, straggling,
stone house."

"Very true, Miles, my dear fellow, and all as dear to me, you know, as
the apple of my eye—but
farmish
—young ladies like the good
things that comes from farms, but do not admire the homeliness of the
residence. I speak of young English ladies, in particular. Now, you
see, Major Merton is a field-officer, and that is having good rank in
a respectable profession, you know—I suppose you understand, Miles,
that the king puts most of his sons into the army, or navy—all this
makes a difference, you understand?"

"I understand nothing about it; what is it to me where the king of
England puts his sons?"

"I wish, my dear Miles, if the truth must be said, that you and I had
been a little less boyish, when we were boys, than happened to be the
case. It would have been all the better for us both."

"Well, I wish no such thing. A boy should be a boy, and a man a man. I
am content to have been a boy, while I was a boy. It is a fault in
this country, that boys fancy themselves men too soon."

"Ah! my dear fellow, you
will
not, or
do
not understand
me. What I mean is, that we were both precipitate in the choice of a
profession—I retired in time, but you persevere; that is all."

"You did retire in season, my lad, if truth is what you are after;
for, had you staid a hundred years on board ship, you never would have
made a sailor."

When I said this, I fancied I had uttered a pretty severe
thing. Rupert took it so coolly, however, as to satisfy me at once,
that he thought differently on the subject.

"Clearly, it is not my vocation. Nature intended me for something
better, I trust, and I mistook a boyish inclination for a taste. A
little experience taught me better, and I am now where I feel I ought
to be. I wish, Miles, you had come to the study of the law, at the
time you went to sea. You would have been, by this time, at the bar,
and would have had a definite position in society."

"I am very glad I did not. What the deuce should I have done as a
lawyer—or what advantage would it have been to me, to be admitted to
the bar?"

"Advantage!—Why, my dear fellow, every advantage in the world. You
know how it is, in this country, I suppose, in the way of society, my
dear Miles?"

"Not I—and, by the little I glean from the manner you sheer about in
your discourse, I wish to know nothing. Do young men study law merely
to be genteel?"

"Do not despise knowledge, my boy; it is of use, even in trifles. Now,
in this country, you know, we have very few men of mere leisure—heirs
of estates, to live on their incomes, as is done in Europe; but,
nine-tenths of us must follow professions, of which there are only
half-a-dozen suitable for a gentleman. The army and navy are nothing,
you know; two or three regiments scattered about in the woods, and
half-a-dozen vessels. After these, there remain the three learned
professions, divinity, law and physic. In our family, divinity has run
out, I fear. As for physic, 'throw physic to the dogs,' as Miss Merton
says—"

"Who?" I exclaimed, in surprise. "'Throw physic to the dogs'—why that
is Shakspeare, man!"

"I know it, and it is Miss Emily Merlon's, too. You have made us
acquainted with a charming creature, at least, Miles, by this going to
sea. Her notions on such subjects are as accurate as a sun-dial."

"And, has Miss Emily Merton ever conversed with you, on the subject of
my
profession, Rupert?"

"Indeed, she has; and regretted it, again and again. You know as well
as I do, Miles, to be a sailor, other than in a navy, is not a
genteel
profession!"

I broke out into a fit of laughter, at this remark. It struck me as
infinitely droll, and as somewhat silly. I knew my precise position in
society, perfectly; had none of the silly swaggering about personal
merit, and of "one man's being as good as another," that has since got
into such general use among us; and understood perfectly the useful
and unavoidable classifications that take place in all civilized
communities, and which, while they are attended by certain
disadvantages as exceptions, produce great benefits as a whole, and
was not disposed at all to exaggerate my claims, or to deny my
deficiencies. But, the idea of attaching any considerations of
gentility
to my noble, manly, daring profession, sounded so
absurd, I could not avoid laughing. In a few moments, however, I
became grave.