Afloat and Ashore: A Sea Tale

by James Fenimore Cooper

“Well, the old Spanish proverb says 'it takes three generations to make a gentleman;' and here you have four to start upon. In my family, all the generations have been on the same level, and I count myself old in my sphere.”

“It is odd that a man like you should know anything of old Spanish proverbs!”

“What? Of such a proverb, think you, Miles? A man without even a father or mother—who never had either, as one may say—and he not remember such a proverb! Boy, boy, I never forget anything that so plainly recalls the tomb-stone, and the basket, and the Alms-House, and Moses, and the names!”

“But Miss Merton might object to the present generation,” I resumed, willing to draw my companion from his bitter thoughts, “however favourably disposed her father might prove to the last.”

“That will be your own fault, then. Here you have her, but on the Pacific Ocean, all to yourself; and if you cannot tell your own story, and that in a way to make her believe it, you are not the lad I take you for.”

I made an evasive and laughing answer; but, being quite near the tent by this time, it was necessary to change the discourse. The reader may think it odd, but that was the very first time the possibility of my marrying Emily Merton ever crossed my mind. In London, I had regarded her as an agreeable acquaintance, with just as much of the colouring of romance and of the sentimental about our intercourse, as is common with youths of nineteen and girls a little younger; but as nothing more. When we met on the island, Emily appeared to me like a friend—a female friend—and, of course, one to be viewed with peculiarly softened feelings; still, as only a friend. During the month we had just passed in the same ship, this tie had gradually strengthened; and I confess to a perfect consciousness of there being on board a pretty girl in her nineteenth year, of agreeable manners, delicate sentiments, and one whose presence gave the Crisis a charm she certainly never enjoyed during poor Captain Williams's time. Notwithstanding all this, there was something—though what that something was, I did not then know myself—which prevented me from absolutely falling in love with my fair guest. Nevertheless, Marble's suggestion was not unpleasant to me; but, on the other hand, it rather conduced to the satisfaction of my present visit.

We were kindly received by our hosts, who always seemed to remember the commencement of our acquaintance, when Marble and myself visited them together. The breakfast had a little of the land about it; for Mons. Le Compte's garden still produced a few vegetables, such as lettuce, pepper-grass, radishes, &c.; most of which, however, had sown themselves. Three or four fowls, too, that he had left on the island in the hurry of his departure, had begun to lay; and Neb having found a nest, we had the very unusual treat of fresh eggs. I presume no one will deny that they were sufficiently “country-laid.”

“Emily and myself consider ourselves as old residents here,” the Major observed, as he gazed around him, the table being set in the open air, under some trees; “and I could almost find it in my heart to remain on this beautiful island for the remainder of my days—quite, I think, were it not for my poor girl, who might find the society of her old father rather dull work, at her time of life.”

“Well, Major,” said Marble, “you have only to let your taste be known, to have the ch'ice among all our youngsters to be her companion. There is Mr. Talcott, a well-edicated and mannerly lad enough, and of good connexions, they tell me; and as for Captain Wallingford here, I will answer for him. My life on it, he would give up Clawbonny, and the property on which he is the fourth of his name, to be king, or Prince of Wales of this island, with such company!”

Now, it was Marble, and not I, who made this speech; and yet I heartily wished it unsaid. It made me feel foolish and I dare say it made me look foolish; and I know it caused Emily to blush. Poor girl! she, who blushed so easily, and was so sensitive, and so delicately situated—she was entitled to have more respect paid to her feelings. The Major and Marble, however, took it all very coolly, continuing the discourse as if nothing out of the way had been said.