The Pilot: A Tale of the Sea by James Fenimore Cooper (best ereader under 100 TXT) 📕

“I know not why or wherefore you have paid me this visit, Captain Borroughcliffe,” said Manual, with a laudable discretion, which prompted him to reconnoitre the other's views a little, before he laid himself more open; “if captain be your rank, and Borroughcliffe be your name. But this I do know, that if it be only to mock me in my present situation, it is neither soldier like nor manly; and it is what, in other circumstances, might be attended by some hazard.”

“Hum!” said the other, with his immovable coolness; “I see you set the wine down as nothing, though the king drinks not as good; for the plain reason that the sun of England cannot find its way through the walls of Windsor Castle as easily as the sun of Carolina can warm a garret covered with cedar shingles. But I like your spirit more and more. So draw yourself up in battle array, and let us have another charge at this black bottle, when I shall lay before your military eyes a plan of the whole campaign.”

Manual first bestowed an inquiring glance on his companion; when, discovering no other expression than foolish cunning, which was fast yielding before the encroaching footsteps of stupid inebriety, he quietly placed himself in the desired position. The wine was drunk, when Borroughcliffe proceeded to open his communications more unreservedly.

“You are a soldier, and I am a soldier. That you are a soldier, my orderly could tell; for the dog has both seen a campaign, and smelt villanous saltpetre, when compounded according to a wicked invention; but it required the officer to detect the officer. Privates do not wear such linen as this, which seemeth to me an unreasonably cool attire for the season; nor velvet stocks, with silver buckles; nor is there often the odorous flavor of sweet-scented pomatum to be discovered around their greasy locks. In short, thou art both soldier and officer.”

“I confess it,” said Manual; “I hold the rank of captain, and shall expect the treatment of one.”

“I think I have furnished you with wine fit for a general,” returned Borroughcliffe; “but have your own way. Now, it would be apparent to men, whose faculties had not been rendered clear by such cordials as this dwelling aboundeth with, that when you officers journey through the island, clad in the uniform incognitorum, which in your case means the marine corps, that something is in the wind of more than usual moment. Soldiers owe their allegiance to their prince, and next to him to war, women, and wine. Of war, there is none in the realm; of women, plenty; but wine, I regret to say, that is, good wine, grows both scarce and dear. Do I speak to the purpose, comrade?”

“Proceed,” said Manual, whose eyes were not less attentive than his ears, in a hope to discover whether his true character were understood.

“En avant! in plain English, forward march! Well, then, the difficulty lies between women and wine; which, when the former are pretty, and the latter rich, is a very agreeable sort of an alternative. That it is not wine of which you are in quest, I must believe, my comrade captain, or you would not go on the adventure in such shabby attire. You will excuse me, but who would think of putting anything better than their Port before a man in a pair of tarred trousers? No! no! Hollands, green-and-yellow Hollands, is a potation good enough to set before one of the present bearing.”

“And yet I have met with him who has treated me to the choicest of the south-side Madeira!”

“Know you the very side from which the precious fluid comes! That looks more in favor of the wine. But, after all, woman, dear capricious woman, who one moment fancies she sees a hero in regimentals, and the next a saint in a cassock; and who always sees something admirable in a suitor, whether he be clad in tow or velvet—woman is at the bottom of this mysterious masquerading. Am I right, comrade!”

By this time Manual had discovered that he was safe, and he returned to the conversation with a revival of all his ready wits, which had been strangely paralyzed by his previous disorder in the region of the throat. First bestowing a wicked wink on his companion, and a look that would have outdone the wisest aspect of Solomon, he replied;

“Ah! woman has much to answer for!”

“I knew it,” exclaimed Borroughcliffe; “and this confession only confirms me in the good opinion I have always entertained of myself. If his majesty has any particular wish to close this American business, let him have a certain convention burnt, and a nameless person promoted, and we shall see! But, answer as you love truth; is it a business of holy matrimony, or a mere dalliance with the sweets of Cupid?”

“Of honest wedlock,” said Manual, with an air as serious as if Hymen already held him in his fetters.

“'Tis honest! Is there money?”

“Is there money?” repeated Manual, with a sort of contemptuous echo. “Would a soldier part with his liberty, but with his life, unless the chains were made of gold?”

“That's the true military doctrine!” cried the other; “faith, you have some discretion in your amphibious corps, I find! But why this disguise? are the 'seniors grave,' as well as 'potent and reverend?' Why this disguise, I again ask?”

“Why this disguise!” repeated Manual, coolly: “Is there any such thing as love in your regiment without disguise? With us, it is a regular symptom of the disease.”

“A most just and discreet description of the passion, my amphibious comrade!” said the English officer; “and yet the symptoms in your case are attended by some very malignant tokens. Does your mistress love tar?”

“No; but she loveth me; and, of course, whatever attire I choose to appear in.”

“Still discreet and sagacious! and yet only a most palpable feint to avoid my direct attack. You have heard of such a place as Gretna Green, a little to the north of this, I dare say, my aquatic comrade. Am I right?”

“Gretna Green!” said Manual, a little embarrassed by his ignorance; “some parade-ground, I suppose?”

“Ay, for those who suffer under the fire of Master Cupid. A parade-ground! well, there is some artful simplicity in that! But all will not do with an old campaigner. It is a difficult thing to impose on an old soldier, my water-battery. Now listen and answer; and you shall see what it is to possess a discernment—therefore deny nothing. You are in love?”

“I deny nothing,” said Manual, comprehending at once that this was his safest course.

“Your mistress is willing, and the money is ready, but the old people say, halt!”

“I am still mute!”

“Tis prudent. You say march—Gretna Green is the object; and your flight is to be by water!”

“Unless I can make my escape by water, I shall never make it,” said Manual, with another sympathetic movement with his hand to his throat.