“The concern would be altogether Dutch.”
“And last advices from Holland tell us to reserve our gold, for some extraordinary movements in the commercial world.”
“Mr. Alderman Myndert Van Beverout!”
“My Lord Viscount Cornbury—”
“Plutus preserve thee, sir—but have a care! though I scent the morning air, and must return, it is not forbid to tell the secrets of my prison-house. There is one, in yonder cage, who whispers that the ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ is on the coast! Be wary, worthy burgher, or the second part of the tragedy of Kidd may yet be enacted in these seas.”
“I leave such transactions to my superiors,” retorted the Alderman, with another stiff and ceremonious bow. “Enterprises that are said to have occupied the Earl of Bellamont, Governor Fletcher, and my Lord Cornbury, are above the ambition of an humble merchant.”
“Adieu, tenacious sir; quiet thine impatience for the extraordinary Dutch movements!” said Cornbury, affecting to laugh, though he secretly felt the sting the other had applied, since common report implicated not only him, but his two official predecessors, in several of the lawless proceedings of the American Buccaneers: “Be vigilant, or la demoiselle Barbérie will give another cross to the purity of the stagnant pool!”
The bows that were exchanged were strictly in character. The Alderman was unmoved, rigid, and formal, while his companion could not forget his ease of manner, even at a moment of so much vexation. Foiled in an effort, that nothing but his desperate condition, and nearly desperate character, could have induced him to attempt, the degenerate descendant of the virtuous Clarendon walked towards his place of confinement, with the step of one who assumed a superiority over his fellows, and yet with a mind so indurated by habitual depravity, as to have left it scarcely the trace of a dignified or virtuous quality.
CHAPTER II.
“His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles;
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate;—”