He went aft as he spoke; and in a few seconds the cutter's head was directed straight towards the English coast, while, crowding on more sail, she seemed to fly through the water.
The cheering freshness of the sea-breeze, the sense of danger past, the hope of escape, all combining, raised my spirits and elevated my courage; but through all, I felt grieved beyond measure at the loss of poor Paul Dupont,—the prize the honest fellow valued next to life itself, if not above it, taken from him in the very moment of his exultation! Besides, I could not help feeling that suspicion must light on me from my sudden disappearance; and my indignation was deep, to think how such an imputation would tarnish the honor of that service I gloried in so much. “How far may such a calumny spread?” thought I. “How many lips may repeat the tale, and none be able to deny it?” Deep as was my regret at the brave Breton's loss, my anger for its consequences was still deeper; and I would willingly have perilled all my hope of reaching England to have been able to restore the book into Paul's own hand.
These feelings did not tend to draw me closer in intimacy with the skipper; whose pleasure at the acquisition was only heightened by the subtlety of its accomplishment, and who seemed never so happy as when repeating some fragment of the landlord's letter, and rejoicing at the discomfiture the brave sailor must have experienced on discovering his loss. To witness the gratification a coarse nature feels in some unworthy but successful action, is the heaviest penalty an honorable mind can experience when unhappily its possessor has been in any way accessory to the result. With these reflections I fell off to sleep, and never woke till the bright sun was shining over the white-crested water, and the craft breasting the waves with a strong breeze upon her canvas.
As we held on down Channel, we passed several ships of war beating up for Spithead; but our blue bunting, curiously streaked with white, was a signal which all acknowledged, and none ventured to retard. Thus passed the first day: as night was falling, we beheld the Needles on our lee, and with a freshening breeze, held on our course.
A second morning broke. And now the sea was covered with the white sails of a magnificent fleet, bound for the West Indies; at least, so the skipper pronounced it. It was indeed a glorious sight to see the mighty vessels obeying the signals of the flag-ship, and shaping their course through the blue water as if instinct with life and reason. They were far seaward of us, however; for now we hugged the land, as the skipper was only desirous of an opportunity to land me unobserved before he proceeded on his own more immediate enterprise,—the smuggling of some hogsheads of brandy on the coasts of Ireland.
Left to my own thoughts,—the memories of my past life,—I dreamed away the hours unconsciously, and as the time sped on, I knew not of its flight. Some strange sail, seen from afar off, would for an instant arouse my attention; but it was a mere momentary effect, and I fell back into my musings, as though they had never been interrupted. As I look back upon that voyage now, and think of the dreamy listlessness in which its hours were passed, I can half fancy that certain periods of our lives are destined to sustain the part which night performs in our daily existence, and by their monotony contribute to that renewal of energy and vigor so essential after times of labor and exertion. It seemed to me as though, the period of exertion past, I was regaining in rest and repose the power for future action; and I canvassed every act of the past to teach me more of my own heart, and to instruct me for my guidance in life after.
“You can land now, whenever you please,” said the skipper to me, as by a faint moonlight we moved along the waveless sea. “We can put you ashore at any moment here.”
I started with as much surprise as though the thought had never occurred to me; and without replying, I leaned over the bulwark, and gazed at the faint shadows of tall headlands about three miles distant.
“How do you call that bluff yonder?” said I, carelessly.
“Wicklow Head.”