During the time past in the secret conference of the cabin, Ludlow and the Patroon were held in discourse on the quarter-deck, by the hero of the India-shawl. The dialogue was professional, as Van Staats maintained his ancient reputation for taciturnity. The appearance of Myndert, thoughtful, disappointed, and most evidently perplexed, caused the ideas of all to take a new direction. It is probable that the burgher believed he had not yet bid enough to tempt the free-trader to restore his niece; for, by his air, it was apparent his mind was far from being satisfied that she was not in the vessel. Still, when questioned by his companions concerning the result of his interview with the free-trader, for reasons best understood by himself, he was fain to answer evasively.
“Of one thing rest satisfied,” he said; “the misconception in this affair will yet be explained, and Alida Barbérie return unfettered, and with a character as free from blemish as the credit of the Van Stoppers of Holland. The fanciful-looking person in the cabin denies that my niece is here, and I am inclined to think the balance of truth is on his side I confess, if one could just look into the cabins, without the trouble of rummaging lockers and cargo, the statement would give more satisfaction; but—hem—gentlemen, we must take the assertion on credit, for want of more sufficient security.”
Ludlow looked at the cloud above the mouth of the Raritan, and his lip curled in a haughty smile.
“Let the wind hold here, at east,” he said, “and we shall act our pleasure, with both lockers and cabins.”
“Hist! the worthy Master Tiller may overhear this threat—and, after all, I do not know whether prudence does not tell us, to let the brigantine depart.”
“Mr. Alderman Van Beverout,” rejoined the Captain, whose cheek had reddened to a glow, “my duty must not be gauged by your affection for your niece. Though content that Alida Barbérie should quit the country, like an article of vulgar commerce, the commander of this vessel must get a passport of Her Majesty’s cruiser, ere she again enter the high sea.”
“Wilt say as much to the sea-green lady?” asked the mariner of the shawl, suddenly appearing at his elbow.
The question was so unexpected and so strange, that it caused an involuntary start; but, recovering his recollection on the instant, the young sailor haughtily replied—
“Or to any other monster thou canst conjure!”
“We will take you at the word. There is no more certain method of knowing the past or the future, the quarter of the heavens from which the winds are to come, or the season of the hurricanes, than by putting a question to our mistress. She who knows so much of hidden matters, may tell us what you wish to know. We will have her called, by the usual summons.”