Authors: James Fenimore Cooper
Young Wycherly, as is ever the case, was keenly alive to any
insinuations that might be supposed to reflect on the portion of the
empire of which he was a native. He considered himself an Englishman, it
is true; was thoroughly loyal; and was every way disposed to sustain the
honour and interests of the seat of authority; but when questions were
raised between Europe and America, he was an American; as, in America
itself, he regarded himself as purely a Virginian, in contradistinction
to all the other colonies. He understood the intended sarcasm of Tom
Wychecombe, but smothered his resentment, out of respect to the baronet,
and perhaps a little influenced by the feelings in which he had been so
lately indulging.
"Those gentlemen who are disposed to fancy such things of the colonies,
would do well to visit that part of the world," he answered, calmly,
"before they express their opinions too loudly, lest they should say
something that future observation might make them wish to recall."
"True, my young friend—quite true," put in the baronet, with the
kindest possible intentions. "True as gospel. We never know any thing of
matters about which we know nothing; that we old men must admit, Master
Dutton; and I should think Tom must see its force. It would be
unreasonable to expect to find every thing as comfortable in America as
we have it here, in England; nor do I suppose the Americans, in general,
would be as likely to get over a cliff as an Englishman. However, there
are exceptions to all general rules, as my poor brother James used to
say, when he saw occasion to find fault with the sermon of a prelate. I
believe you did not know my poor brother, Dutton; he must have been
killed about the time you were born—St. James, I used to call him,
although my brother Thomas, the judge that was Tom's father, there—said
he was St. James the Less."
"I believe the Rev. Mr. Wychecombe was dead before I was of an age to
remember his virtues, Sir Wycherly," said Dutton, respectfully; "though
I have often heard my own father speak of all your honoured family."
"Yes, your father, Dutton, was the attorney of the next town, and we all
knew him well. You have done quite right to come back among us to spend
the close of your own days. A man is never as well off as when he is
thriving in his native soil; more especially when that soil is old
England, and Devonshire. You are not one of us, young gentleman, though
your name happens to be Wychecombe; but, then we are none of us
accountable for our own births, or birth-places."
This truism, which is in the mouths of thousands while it is in the
hearts of scarcely any, was well meant by Sir Wycherly, however plainly
expressed. It merely drew from the youth the simple answer that—"he was
born in the colonies, and had colonists for his parents;" a fact that
the others had heard already, some ten or a dozen times.
"It is a little singular, Mr. Wychecombe, that you should bear both of
my names, and yet be no relative," continued the baronet. "Now, Wycherly
came into our family from old Sir Hildebrand Wycherly, who was slain at
Bosworth Field, and whose only daughter, my ancestor, and Tom's
ancestor, there, married. Since that day, Wycherly has been a favourite
name among us. I do not think that the Wychecombes of Herts, ever
thought of calling a son Wycherly, although, as my poor brother the
judge used to say,
they
were related, but of the half-blood, only. I
suppose your father taught you what is meant by being of the half-blood,
Thomas?"
Tom Wychecombe's face became the colour of scarlet, and he cast an
uneasy glance at all present; expecting in particular, to meet with a
look of exultation in the eyes of the lieutenant. He was greatly
relieved, however, at finding that neither of the three meant or
understood more than was simply expressed. As for his uncle, he had not
the smallest intention of making any allusion to the peculiarity of his
nephew's birth; and the other two, in common with the world, supposed
the reputed heir to be legitimate. Gathering courage from the looks of
those around him, Tom answered with a steadiness that prevented his
agitation from being detected:
"Certainly, my dear sir; my excellent parent forgot nothing that he
thought might be useful to me, in maintaining my rights, and the honour
of the family, hereafter. I very well understand that the Wychecombes of
Hertfordshire have no claims on us; nor, indeed, any Wychecombe who is
not descended from my respectable grandfather, the late Sir Wycherly."
"He must have been an
early
, instead of a
late
Sir Wycherly, rather,
Mr. Thomas," put in Dutton, laughing at his own conceit; "for I can
remember no other than the honourable baronet before us, in the last
fifty years."
"Quite true, Dutton—very true," rejoined the person last alluded to.
"As true as that 'time and tide wait for no man.' We understand the
meaning of such things on the coast here. It was half a century, last
October, since I succeeded my respected parent; but, it will not be
another half century before some one will succeed me!"
Sir Wycherly was a hale, hearty man for his years, but he had no unmanly
dread of his end. Still he felt it could not be very distant, having
already numbered fourscore and four years. Nevertheless, there were
certain phrases of usage, that Dutton did not see fit to forget on such
an occasion, and he answered accordingly, turning to look at and admire
the still ruddy countenance of the baronet, by way of giving emphasis to
his words.
"You will yet see half of us into our graves, Sir Wycherly," he said,
"and still remain an active man. Though I dare say another half century
will bring most of us up. Even Mr. Thomas, here, and your young namesake
can hardly hope to run out more line than that. Well, as for myself, I
only desire to live through this war, that I may again see His Majesty's
arms triumphant; though they do tell me that we are in for a good thirty
years' struggle. Wars
have
lasted as long as
that
, Sir Wycherly, and
I don't see why this may not, as well as another."
"Very true, Dutton; it is not only possible, but probable; and I trust
both you and I may live to see our flower-hunter here, a post-captain,
at least—though it would be wishing almost too much to expect to see
him an admiral. There has been
one
admiral of the name, and I confess
I should like to see another!"
"Has not Mr. Thomas a brother in the service?" demanded the master; "I
had thought that my lord, the judge, had given us one of his young
gentlemen."
"He thought of it; but the army got both of the boys, as it turned out.
Gregory was to be the midshipman; my poor brother intending him for a
sailor from the first, and so giving him the name that was once borne by
the unfortunate relative we lost by shipwreck. I wished him to call one
of the lads James, after St. James; but, somehow, I never could persuade
Thomas to see all the excellence of that pious young man."
Dutton was a little embarrassed, for St. James had left any thing but a
godly savour behind him; and he was about to fabricate a tolerably bold
assertion to the contrary, rather than incur the risk of offending the
lord of the manor, when, luckily, a change in the state of the fog
afforded him a favourable opportunity of bringing about an apposite
change in the subject. During the whole of the morning the sea had been
invisible from the head-land, a dense body of vapour resting on it, far
as eye could reach; veiling the whole expanse with a single white cloud.
The lighter portions of the vapour had at first floated around the
head-land, which could not have been seen at any material distance; but
all had been gradually settling down into a single mass, that now rose
within twenty feet of the summit of the cliffs. The hour was still quite
early, but the sun was gaining force, and it speedily drank up all the
lighter particles of the mist, leaving a clear, bright atmosphere above
the feathery bank, through which objects might be seen for miles. There
was what seamen call a "fanning breeze," or just wind enough to cause
the light sails of a ship to swell and collapse, under the double
influence of the air and the motion of the hull, imitating in a slight
degree the vibrations of that familiar appliance of the female toilet.
Dutton's eye had caught a glance of the loftiest sail of a vessel, above
the fog, going through this very movement; and it afforded him the
release he desired, by enabling him to draw the attention of his
companions to the same object.
"See, Sir Wycherly—see, Mr. Wychecombe," he cried, eagerly, pointing in
the direction of the sail; "yonder is some of the king's canvass coming
into our roadstead, or I am no judge of the set of a man-of-war's royal.
It is a large bit of cloth, too, Mr. Lieutenant, for a sail so lofty!"
"It is a two-decker's royal, Master Dutton," returned the young sailor;
"and now you see the fore and main, separately, as the ship keeps away."
"Well," put in Sir Wycherly, in a resigned manner; "here have I lived
fourscore years on this coast, and, for the life of me, I have never
been able to tell a fore-royal from a back-royal; or a mizzen head-stay
from a head mizzen-stay. They are the most puzzling things imaginable;
and now I cannot discover how you know that yonder sail, which I see
plain enough, is a royal, any more than that it is a jib!"
Dutton and the lieutenant smiled, but Sir Wycherly's simplicity had a
cast of truth and nature about it, that deterred most people from
wishing to ridicule him. Then, the rank, fortune, and local interest of
the baronet, counted for a good deal on all such occasions.
"Here is another fellow, farther east," cried Dutton, still pointing
with a finger; "and every inch as big as his consort! Ah! it does my
eyes good to see our roadstead come into notice, in this manner, after
all I have said and done in its behalf—But, who have we here—a brother
chip, by his appearance; I dare say some idler who has been sent ashore
with despatches."
"There is another fellow further east, and every inch as big as his
consort," said Wychecombe, as we shall call our lieutenant, in order to
distinguish him from Tom of the same name, repeating the very words of
Dutton, with an application and readiness that almost amounted to wit,
pointing, in his turn, at two strangers who were ascending to the
station by a path that led from the beach. "Certainly both these
gentlemen are in His Majesty's service, and they have probably just
landed from the ships in the offing."
The truth of this conjecture was apparent to Dutton at a glance. As the
strangers joined each other, the one last seen proceeded in advance; and
there was something in his years, the confident manner in which he
approached, and his general appearance, that induced both the sailors to
believe he might be the commander of one of the ships that had just come
in view.
"Good-morrow, gentlemen," commenced this person, as soon as near enough
to salute the party at the foot of the flag-staff; "good-morrow to ye
all. I'm glad to meet you, for it's but a Jacob's ladder, this path of
yours, through the ravine in the cliffs. Hey! why Atwood," looking
around him at the sea of vapour, in surprise, "what the devil has become
of the fleet?"
"It is lost in the fog, sir; we are above it, here; when more on a level
with the ships, we could see, or fancy we saw, more of them than we do
now."
"Here are the upper sails of two heavy ships, sir," observed Wychecombe,
pointing in the direction of the vessels already seen; "ay, and yonder
are two more—nothing but the royals are visible."
"Two more!—I left eleven two-deckers, three frigates, a sloop, and a
cutter in sight, when I got into the boat. You might have covered 'em
all with a pocket-handkerchief, hey! Atwood!"
"They were certainly in close order, sir, but I'll not take it on myself
to say quite as near together as that."
"Ay, you're a dissenter by trade, and never will believe in a miracle.
Sharp work, gentlemen, to get up such a hill as this, after fifty."
"It is, indeed, sir," answered Sir Wycherly, kindly. "Will you do us the
favour to take a seat among us, and rest yourself after so violent an
exertion? The cliff is hard enough to ascend, even when one keeps the
path; though here is a young gentleman who had a fancy just now to go
down it, without a path; and that, too, merely that a pretty girl might
have a nosegay on her breakfast-table."
The stranger looked intently at Sir Wycherly for a moment, then glanced
his eye at the groom and the pony, after which he took a survey of Tom
Wychecombe, the lieutenant, and the master. He was a man accustomed to
look about him, and he understood, by that rapid glance, the characters
of all he surveyed, with perhaps the exception of that of Tom
Wychecombe; and even of that he formed a tolerably shrewd conjecture.
Sir Wycherly he immediately set down as the squire of the adjacent
estate; Dutton's situation he hit exactly, conceiving him to be a
worn-out master, who was employed to keep the signal-station; while he
understood Wychecombe, by his undress, and air, to be a sea-lieutenant
in the king's service. Tom Wychecombe he thought it quite likely might
be the son, and heir of the lord of the manor, both being in mourning;
though he decided in his own mind that there was not the smallest family
likeness between them. Bowing with the courtesy of a man who knew how to
acknowledge a civility, he took the proffered seat at Sir Wycherly's
side without farther ceremony.
"We must carry the young fellow to sea with us, sir," rejoined the
stranger, "and that will cure him of looking for flowers in such
ticklish places. His Majesty has need of us all, in this war; and I
trust, young gentleman, you have not been long ashore, among the girls."
"Only long enough to make a cure of a pretty smart hurt, received in
cutting out a lugger from the opposite coast," answered Wychecombe, with
sufficient modesty, and yet with sufficient spirit.