In the meantime, Mr. Coffin, who had a large share of a particular kind of shrewdness, had noticed that his friend seemed inclined to enjoy the society of Isabella uninterrupted; and, to assist that manœuvre as much as possible, engaged the young officers with some tremendous tough fish stories, in which he was ably supported by one of the boat-steerers, a Portuguese, who spoke Spanish, as a matter of course, and helped out his officer, when his imperfect knowledge of the language brought him to a stand still. So he managed to hold them, as jackasses are held,—by the ears,—till he saw his companion and the young lady come into the steerage, when he broke off somewhat abruptly, in the middle of a very tough yarn, leaving the gentlemen of the sword to guess at the catastrophe.
As the party stood around a chest, upon which these whalebone toys, and other curiosities, were displayed, Antonia dropt a bouquet from her bosom. As Morton picked it up, and returned it to its fair owner, he made some remark upon the beauty, and fragrance, of the flowers.
"Are you fond of flowers?" said the young lady.
"Yes, very."
"That I can answer for," said Coffin; "he is always, when on shore for wood, water, or pleasure, in search of rare flowers, and shells. It is well there are no such things at sea, or we should never have taken a single whale—and then he paints those he finds so beautifully."
"What! he paint flowers! a man paint flowers! Santa Maria! who ever heard of such a thing!" echoed the two young ladies.
"And why not, my children," said the fat priest, laughing; "do you ladies think you have an exclusive title, and right, to all the elegant accomplishments?"
"I do not doubt," said Coffin, "that Signor Morton would be proud to show the ladies his drawings. Come, Charlie," he continued, in English, "you shall not keep your candle under a bushel any longer—you see you're in for it, and you may as well submit with a good grace."
So saying, he led the way to the cabin, where the drawings were paraded upon the table. They were certainly very beautiful; for to a fondness for the "serene and silent art," Morton added a natural taste for it, which he had ample leisure to cultivate, during his long voyages. After admiring them for some time, Madame de Luna gave the artist a cordial invitation to visit their house, and garden, a mile or two beyond the town; in the latter, she assured him, he would find some rare and beautiful subjects for his pencil. Morton was exceedingly gratified by this kindness, and said, in a low voice, and in English, to Isabella, but without looking at, or apparently addressing, her, as she stood next him, "Then I shall have the happiness of seeing you once more."