The Red Rover: A Tale

by James Fenimore Cooper

As he spoke, the Commander of the ship, which had borne so odious an imputation, directed the eyes of his companion to the form of a third individual, who had entered the cabin with the freedom of a privileged person, but with a tread so light as to be inaudible. As this unexpected form met the quick, impatient glance of the pretended officer of the Crown, he arose involuntarily, and, for half a minute, that admirable command of muscle and nerve, which had served him so well in maintaining his masquerade, appeared entirely to desert him. The loss of self-possession, however, was but for a time so short as to attract no notice; and he coolly returned the salutations of an aged man, of a meek and subdued look, with that air of blandness and courtesy which he so well knew how to assume.

“This gentleman is your chaplain, sir, I presume, by his clerical attire,” he said, after he had exchanged bows with the stranger. “He is, sir—a worthy and honest man, whom I am not ashamed to call my friend. After a separation of thirty years, the Admiral has been good enough to lend him to me for the cruise; and, though my ship is none of the largest, I believe he finds himself as comfortable in her as he would aboard the flag.—This gentleman, Doctor, is the honourable Captain Howard, of his Majesty’s ship ‘Antelope.’ I need not expatiate on his remarkable merit, since the command he bears, at his years, is a sufficient testimony on that important particular.”

There was a look of bewildered surprise in the gaze of the divine, when his glance first fell upon the features of the pretended scion of nobility; but it was far less striking than had been that of the subject of his gaze, and of much shorter continuance. He again bowed meekly, and with that deep reverence which long use begets, even in the best-intentioned minds, when brought in contact with the fancied superiority of hereditary rank; but he did not appear to consider the occasion one that required he should say more than the customary words of salutation. The Rover turned calmly to his veteran companion, and continued the discourse.

“Captain Bignall,” he said, again wearing that grace of manner which became him so well, “it is my duty to follow your motions in this interview. I will now return to my ship; and if, as I begin to suspect we are in these seas on a similar errand, we can concert at our leisure a system of co-operation, which, properly matured by your experience, may serve to bring about the common end we have in view.”

Greatly mollified by this concession to his years and to his rank, the Commander of the “Dart” pressed his hospitalities warmly on his guest, winding up his civilities by an invitation to join in a marine feast at an hour somewhat later in the day. All the former offers were politely declined, while the latter was accepted; the invited making the invitation itself an excuse that he should return to his own vessel in order that he might select such of his officers as he should deem most worthy of participating in the dainties of the promised banquet. The veteran and really meritorious Bignall, notwithstanding the ordinary sturdy blustering of his character, had served too long in indigence and comparative obscurity not to feel some of the longings of human nature for his hard-earned and protracted preferment. He consequently kept, in the midst of all his native and manly honesty, a saving-eye on the means of accomplishing this material object. It is to occasion no surprise, therefore, that his parting from the supposed son of a powerful champion at Court was more amicable than had been the meeting. The Rover was bowed, from the cabin to the deck, with at least an appearance of returning good-will. On reaching the latter, a hurried, suspicious, and perhaps an uneasy glance was thrown from his restless eyes on all those faces that were grouped around the gangway, by which he was about to leave the ship; but their expression instantly became calm again, and a little supercilious withal, in order to do no discredit to the part in the comedy which it was his present humour to enact. Then, shaking the worthy and thoroughly-deceived old seaman heartily by the hand, he touched his hat, with an air half-haughty, half-condescending to his inferiors. He was in the act of descending into the boat, when the chaplain was seen to whisper something, with great earnestness, in the ear of his Captain. The Commander hastened to recall his departing guest, desiring him, with startling gravity to lend him his private attention for another moment Suffering himself to be led apart by the two the Rover stood awaiting their pleasure, with a coolness of demeanour that, under the peculiar circumstances of his case, did signal credit to his nerves.

“Captain Howard,” resumed the warm-hearted Bignall, “have you a gentleman of the cloth in your vessel?”

“Two, sir,” was the ready answer.

“Two! It is rare to find a supernumerary priest in a man of war! But, I suppose, Court influence could give the fellow a bishop,” muttered the other. “You are fortunate in this particular, young gentle man, since I am indebted to inclination, rather than to custom, for the society of my worthy friend here he has, however, made a point that I should include the reverend gentleman—I should say gentlemen—in the invitation.”

“You shall have all the divinity of my ship, Big nail, on my faith.”

“I believe I was particular in naming your first lieutenant.”