“We have never met before!” cried Ludlow, when the organ began to grow dim, with the length and steadiness of its gaze.
“The ocean has many paths, and men may journey on them, long, without crossing each other.”
“Thou hast served the Queen, though I see thee in this doubtful situation?”
“Never. I am not one to bind myself to the servitude of any woman that lives,” returned the free trader, while a mild smile played about his lip “though she wore a thousand diadems! Anne never had an hour of my time, nor a single wish of my heart.”
“This is bold language, sir, for the ear of her officer. The arrival of an unknown brigantine, certain incidents which have occurred to myself this night, your presence here, that bale of articles forbidden by the law, create suspicions that must be satisfied. Who are you?”
“The flagrant wanderer of the ocean—the outcast of society—the condemned in the opinions of world—the lawless ‘Skimmer of the Seas!’”
“This cannot be! The tongues of men speak of the personal deformity of that wanderer, no less than of his bold disregard of the law. You would deceive me.”
“If then men err so much in that which is visible and unimportant,” returned the other, proudly, “is there not reason to doubt their accuracy in matters of more weight. I am surely what I seem, if I am not what I say.”
“I will not credit so improbable a tale;—give me some proof that what I hear is true.”
“Look at that brigantine, whose delicate spars are almost confounded with the background of trees,” said the other, approaching the window, and directing the attention of his companion to the Cove: “’Tis the bark that has so often foiled the efforts of all thy cruisers, and which transports me and my wealth whither I will, without the fetters of arbitrary laws, and the meddling inquiries of venal hirelings. The scud, which floats above the sea, is not freer than that vessel, and scarcely more swift. Well is she named the Water-Witch! for her performances on the wide ocean have been such as seem to exceed all natural means. The froth of the sea does not dance more lightly above the waves, than yonder graceful fabric, when driven by the breeze. She is a thing to be loved, Ludlow; trust me, I never yet set affections on woman, with the warmth I feel for the faithful and beautiful machine!”