“Now what are you laughing at?” said madam, in an unwonted pet; “I’ll never tell you any thing again, if Nanny bewitches us all together, which it’s likely enough she’ll do, now we have the land against her will.”
“Don’t be offended, my love,” said her husband; “I was only pleased to have my mind made easy on one score—you’ll never be hanged for a witch, I am sure; and as to Nanny, why, I think you may safely leave her to Vi’let—I’ll match her with any witch in the Bay Province.”
Madam was appeased, though not wholly satisfied, but, as in duty bound, said no more, not being quite sure as to the twitches; and having, moreover, a vague suspicion that Vi’let’s swollen arm might be occasioned by the rheumatism, though she would have scarcely ventured such a surmise to Vi’let herself. The matter of the strange cat she dismissed from her mind.
George’s two years of probation passed rather slowly to him; but at last they came to a close. He had improved his time to the entire satisfaction of his father, having made such progress in his studies as to reflect great credit on Master Goodwin, and also prove his own industrious application. His predilection for a sea-faring life had rather strengthened than abated, and his father could no longer withhold his consent. A favorable opportunity was all George waited for, which soon presented itself. Captain Brayton was going on a voyage up the Mediterranean, and was to proceed to London, and touch at several European ports in coming home. He had a good crew, and Captain Seaward made interest with his old friend to take his son and George as light hands, and to keep them under his especial protection, lamenting at the same time that the Two Pollys, which was lying in the dock, undergoing some repairs, could not be made ready for the voyage.
Before Captain Brayton sails, we beg leave to introduce to the reader another one of young Fayerweather’s acquaintance Down-in-town.
He, also, bore the title of captain, which was accorded to all who, like himself, had ever been a ship-master—old Captain Bob Stimpson—a short, thick-set man, with legs like a mill-post, the upper parts encased in leather breeches, the lower parts in blue worsted stockings, with smart shoes fastened with huge silver buckles of great brilliancy. His wig, which had once been black, was rendered nearly red by age, and formed a setting to his redder face, which matched well with his huge bottle-nose of the same fiery hue. But do not mistake, gentle reader; Captain Bob Stimpson was a temperate man. He usually wore a brown coat and waistcoat, out of which latter appeared ostentatiously the ruffle of his shirt, broader than usual for the fashion of the day. He was a man of substance, and owner of a rope-walk, at the door of which he was usually found seated, pipe in mouth.
What could a youth of seventeen find in the society of such an old codger of fifty-two? Can you guess, my fair reader? He had a daughter—the Down-in-town beauty, she was called; a girl of whom any father might have been proud.
She was his only child; her beauty was a rare specimen of the blonde, with a high polished forehead, and exquisite features. A slight drooping of the lid at the outer corner of her clear blue eyes, sometimes gave a shade of sadness to her lovely countenance; but when animated, these eyes became bright and merry, and her face was radiant with dimpled smiles.
Captain Stimpson’s house was considered a fine one for the time in which he lived. It was a large square building, situated in the midst of a spacious terrace, of which the under part was improved for shops, for the sale of ready-made seaman’s clothing; and the lawn in front of his house was directly over their roofs. The ascent to the terrace was by a long flight of stone-steps, situated between two shops. The lawn was covered with fine grass, bordered with rose-bushes and lilac-trees, and a broad gravel-walk through the centre led to the house. This was of three stories, with a cupola on the top, which cupola the two captains used for a look-out, when vessels were coming in or going out; it commanded a view of the harbor; the house being situated in that part of the town now called Neptune street, or as they used to say, “down on the wharves.” There was nothing further remarkable about the house, excepting the cap of the front-door, which was ornamented by a figure of Neptune, with his trident—the wonder and admiration of all the young mermen of the vicinity.
George first saw Judith Stimpson—conceive of a beauty with such a name!—as he went with Dick, one summer afternoon, on some errand from the father of the latter to Captain Stimpson. She was with a little troop of companions who were on an afternoon’s visit to her, having finished all the tasks of sewing and knitting which their prudent mothers had set them. As yet pianos were scarcely invented, and there was but one spinnet in the place, and this was viewed by some with distrust, as having a secret connection with witchcraft. Judith and her companions issued from the house for a game of romps on the terrace. It was not in those days considered as infringing on decorum for girls of thirteen to play at “blindman’s-buff,” “old Tickleder,” or “hide-and-seek” in the open air. The little girls had just formed the magic circle around the beautiful Judith, who, dressed in a yellow grogram, with elbow-sleeves and ruffles of worked cat-gut over her round, white arms, was dancing with great glee, and singing in a voice rather loud for a young lady of her years, “Ring around the maiden in Uncle Johnny’s garden,” her light, silken curls flying in every direction round her glowing and innocent face, when who should appear on the terrace but the two young men! Away scampered the girls, vainly endeavoring to reach the house before their tormentors could catch them.