CHAPTER XVII.

CAPTAIN BARBARA’S FIRST VOYAGE.

“How gloriously her gallant course she goes! Her white wings flying—never from her foes; She walks the waters like a thing of life, And seems to dare the elements to strife. Who would not brave the ocean storm, the wreck, To move the monarch of her bounding deck!”—_Byron._

Early the next morning, Lord Montressor went down to the wharf to inquire for the Petrel.

A trim, tight-looking little clipper, standing a cable’s length down the river, was pointed out to him.

He called a boat, got into it, and directed to be rowed to the Petrel.

On arriving alongside the vessel, Lord Montressor found himself in the midst of a busy scene. Many other boats, heavily laden, were around the clipper, the crew of which, seeming to consist of four negroes, were engaged in taking in freight.

Lord Montressor directed his boat to be pulled up to the starboard gangway, and forthwith went on board, where, besides the four black sailors, who were engaged in hauling up heavy bales from the boats on the larboard, he found two manly boys of about ten and twelve standing on the deck.

“Can you direct me to the Captain?” asked Lord Montressor.

The darkies suspended their labors for an instant to look at each other and grin.

“The Captain, my good fellows—the Captain—where is he?” again asked Lord Montressor, thinking they had not understood the first question.

“The gentleman asks for the Captin! My eyes, Sam! I reckon he’s bound for Point No-Point,” said one of the men; and all, negro-like, slackened their ropes and left off work, to gaze, grin, or gossip, as opportunity might offer.

But before Lord Montressor had time to reiterate his question, he was startled by a clear, ringing, sonorous voice, shouting:

“Ahoy there! What are you about men! look alive! look alive! bear a hand! bear a hand! so——!”

The men laid themselves with a good-will to their ropes, and the heavy bales and boxes soon swung between the boats below and the bulwarks above.

Lord Montressor turned to ascertain whence the cheery voice came; and he saw, standing upon the deck, with a small speaking-trumpet in her white hand, a tall, handsome young woman, with a finely developed form, broadly-expanded chest, frank, resolute countenance, shining black hair, and flashing black eyes. Her dress and hood of coarse grey serge could not disguise her singular beauty.

“So——That’s it! Haul hearty! cheerly boys!—cheerly!—so——!” called the same animating voice, as the men hoisted in the freight.

Then she lowered the little speaking-trumpet, and advanced to receive Lord Montressor, who was going toward her.

“Some sister, or daughter, or perhaps wife of the skipper, doing duty in his absence. Some shore-mate acting as shipmate—a very piquante position, upon my word!” thought Lord Montressor, as he paused before the young Amazon, and lifted his hat.

“How do you do, sir? Have you any business with me?” asked Barbara. The tone was frank, short, decided, almost abrupt.

“I have business with the skipper, if you will be so kind as to direct me where to find him, young lady.”

“Ah! you wish to see Brande, Master?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Here he is, then,” said Barbara, laying her hand proudly and fondly on the head of the elder boy, who stood at her side.

Lord Montressor looked surprised and perplexed.

“Excuse me, Madam, did I understand you to say——”

“That this lad is Brande—Master? Yes, sir! The vessel belongs to him and his brother, and sails under his name. But until he attains his majority and acquires a competent knowledge of navigation and seamanship, I, his sister, am Acting Master. I am the responsible person here, sir, if you have business with the ship. (Ahoy, there! Bob! man the long-boat and go on shore to bring off those bales.) Now I am ready to listen to you, sir.”

“Excuse me, Madam! but expecting to find Captain Brande to treat with, I came on board hoping to be able to secure a passage to the West Indies for myself and men.”

“Who are you, sir?” The question was frank, direct, and abrupt like all her talk.

“Pardon me, I should have anticipated your question; I am the Viscount Montressor.”

“And how many men have you, sir?”

“Two—a valet and a groom.”

“Well, sir, I know of no reason why you should not find a berth here. We are prepared to accommodate a limited number of passengers. (Look alive there, boys!) We sail on the first of October, sir, wind and tide favoring, and shall be glad of your company.”

Here was a dilemma!

Lord Montressor was, of course, far too high bred to _express_ his surprise, perplexity and doubt, and he was also too self-possessed to _betray_ those emotions to any creature less quick-sighted and penetrating than the Amazon before him.

As it was, Barbara saw and understood the utmost extent of his amazement, hesitation, and curiosity—perhaps it piqued her, for she suddenly exclaimed—

“Well, sir! since you have come on business, bring it to a conclusion. Question me, sir. Question me, sir. I had far rather be questioned by a gentleman, than see him stand silent before me, suffering the pangs of suppressed curiosity!”

The blood rushed to Lord Montressor’s brow, and half in displeasure, half in amusement, he replied—

“I regret very much that I have such a tell-tale countenance—but I am sure you will pardon me for the involuntary betrayal of the surprise I felt, at finding so young and handsome a woman, in so novel a position.”

Barbara bowed—lowly, and perhaps ironically.

“You arraign me, sir! if not in words, yet in thought. I am put upon my defense. Come, sir! read the indictment—let me hear wherein I have broken the laws of God or man.”

(“What a termagant!” thought Lord Montressor; but he said)—

“Nay, indeed, Miss Brande, I arraign you not—I simply _wonder_—begging pardon, for even so much.”

(“He thinks I am a vixen,” said Barbara to herself; then aloud)—

“There is no need of wonder, sir. It is all very simple. I am left guardian to two boy brothers, whom I am to support, and to bring up to self-support. I chose the means best fitted to the end.”

“But might not some more—I beg pardon, I grow impertinent.”

“Not so, since I have challenged examination, sir!—you were about to inquire——?”

“Whether some more proper feminine occupation might not have been found?”

“I thought so! there it is again! What, precisely, do you call proper feminine occupation?—sewing? teaching? acting? keeping boarders? selling goods?” Barbara drew a long and deep inspiration, that seemed to relieve her breast of the weight of these thoughts, and resumed—“No, sir—these may all be sufficiently feminine, but they require certain qualifications in which, happily or unhappily, I am deficient; they also involve confinement, subordination, and patronage—which my soul could not, for an instant, brook! For I am born to freedom, independence, and domination!”

“Yet, methinks all these are not incompatible with the life of a hostess, a teacher, or a shopkeeper.”

Barbara laughed scornfully.

“Yes, Miss Brande, it does suggest itself to me that a sufficiency of freedom, independence and domination might be found in a house of your own, a school of your own, or a shop of your own.”

“And still more in a SHIP of my own!” cried Barbara—her black eyes flashing in triumph and exultation.

Lord Montressor regarded the handsome Amazon, with an expression half of admiration, half of wonder. She continued—

“No, sir, I am unfitted by nature and education to spend my life in pouring out coffee for old bachelors, pointing out A, B, C’s to little children, or pulling down goods for idle lady-shoppers. And on the other hand—I am prepared both by constitution and culture for my present vocation. Like all the men and women of my house, I love the sea; from four years old to fourteen, I sailed with my father, who taught me navigation and seamanship, which I, with my ardent attractions to the subject, learned much more readily and thoroughly, than many a dull or unwilling cadet of the Naval schools has done. So being prepared for it, driven toward it, and attracted by it, I enter my sea life. No, Lord Montressor, there is something in my blood and in my circumstances, that could not brook the quiet land life you have cut out for me! no more than the majority of women could bear the life into which I rush with enthusiasm. Be it so! every one to the bent of their own taste and talent. Such I take to be God’s order.”

“I have nothing more to say, Miss Brande, except this: Taking it for granted that you are, as you say, well fitted for your position; still, are you _safe_? In exigencies that may arise, when life may depend upon discipline, will your crew obey you?”

Barbara smiled proudly and confidently. “Lord Montressor! you are, doubtless, a better student in history than myself! Have you noticed in your reading, that whenever the reins of government have fallen into the hands of woman, they have been less successful than men in enforcing their authority and putting down revolt? Did England’s magnificent Elizabeth ever quail before her ministers, or her people, or fail to enforce her own royal will?—or Russia’s terrific Catherine, blench in the bloodiest scenes of her time? There are such Elizabeths and Catherines at the present day, and in the humblest walks of life, sir.”

Lord Montressor bowed, and Barbara continued—

“As for my crew, I have the means of compelling them to obedience.”

His lordship looked incredulous.

“There are but eight souls in all of this ship’s company—first, there is myself, Acting Master, and my black maid—then come my two brothers, who are devoted to their sister; then my two negroes, who will obey me as only old family servants, who have watched over me on land and sea, from childhood to womanhood, would do; and, lastly, there are two enlisted men—one of whom is an old seaman, who sailed often with my father, and is perfectly reliable; and the other is a young fellow whose countenance is a letter of recommendation, if he had no other—as he has. So that you see, sir, I have not an insubordinate or dangerous character on board.”

“I see you have exercised judgment in the selection of your hands.”

“With all this, sir, you may not feel sufficient confidence in my competency for the post I have assumed, to trust your valuable life with us for the voyage. Nevertheless, sir, Messrs. Gobright & Co., Merchants on Light street—men who are not suspected of lunacy, have entrusted me with a very valuable cargo.”

Lord Montressor bowed absently; his thoughts had reverted to one far away.

“Am I to understand that you decline a berth with us, sir?” inquired Barbara.

This brought his lordship to the point.

“Certainly not, Miss Brande. Upon all accounts, I would not forego this opportunity—no, not for a seat in his majesty’s cabinet.”

“Come, then, into the cabin and let us arrange the terms—come you, also, Willful! you must learn to transact business,” said Barbara, beckoning Lord Montressor and her brother to follow.

They went below, and the terms—where one party was willing and the other anxious—were soon concluded to their mutual satisfaction.

It was near sunset when Lord Montressor left the vessel for the shore, to return to his hotel.

He employed the succeeding days of the week in writing letters to England, and in preparations for his voyage.

Was it strange that, in his conversations with Barbara, he should never once have mentioned or even remotely alluded to the object of his voyage? We think not; for the subject of his lost Estelle was too sacred to be approached, except under urgent necessity, or in the hope of obtaining direct information. And what necessity did there seem to be for taking Barbara into his confidence? what information could he suppose her able to give? or what connection could he possibly imagine to exist between his delicate and reserved Estelle and this brave daughter of the sea? In fact, he never once thought of such a possibility. And yet, had he once broached the subject, how soon Barbara could have told him that Mrs. Estelle had sailed, not for the West India Isles as he supposed, but for a much nearer point, namely, Brande’s Headland, a hundred miles or so down the bay.

So full is life of mere paper walls!

It was a fine frosty morning, the first of October, when the Petrel was to sail. A fresh wind that had sprung up during the night was blowing from the north-west. At daybreak Lord Montressor entered a hack to drive down to the wharf. His valet and groom followed, with the baggage on a dray. A ride of an hour brought them to the scene of embarkation. The wharves presented a busy, animating appearance. The harbor was crowded with shipping, whose tall masts, yards, and ropes were distinctly traced upon the background of a clear blue sky. But the Petrel stood off at anchor, some cables’ length down the river. And to reach her, it was necessary to hire one of the many boats that glided in and out among the vessels.

Lord Montressor signalled his groom from the top of his dray, and dispatched him to engage one.

The man soon effected this purpose; and a large, substantial boat, roomy enough to accommodate Lord Montressor, his attendants and his baggage, was rowed up close alongside the wharf upon which they stood. The trunks were first lowered into the boat, then Lord Montressor, followed by his valet and his groom, entered and seated himself in the stern. The four sailors laid themselves to their oars, and the boat flew over the water.

In a few minutes they were alongside the Petrel which, in her neatest trim, was preparing to get under way. They pulled around to the starboard gangway, where Lord Montressor went immediately up the ladder and stood upon the deck.

In truth, the vessel presented an animating spectacle. Some of the men were busy with the ropes, others with the windlass. The eldest boy was at the tiller.

But most conspicuous upon the deck stood the handsome Amazon, Barbara Brande, in her strong, grey serge dress, but bareheaded, with the fresh wind making free with her blackest of tresses, and flushing with a deeper crimson her sun-burned cheeks. She stood there self-possessed and giving orders in her own clear, ringing, decided tones.

Seeing Lord Montressor, she immediately came forward to meet him, saying, in her high, cheerful voice:

“Welcome, sir! you are just in time. We shall be under way in half an hour. You know where to find your quarters, sir. Will you go below, or——”

“I will remain on deck, if you please, Miss Brande,” said his lordship, who was not a little curious and interested to see how this girl would proceed to get her vessel under sail—feeling doubtful, also, of the sound discretion of embarking his life on such a venture.

“Very well, sir! as you please.”

And Barbara left him and went forward.

“Ahoy, there, Willful! see to getting Lord Montressor’s baggage up.”

The lad left the tiller to obey. The hoisting of the trunks occupied but a few minutes; the stowing them but a few more.

The deck being then clear again, Barbara went forward to give orders, which she did in short, firm, resonant tones, that must have startled a stranger less prepared for them than Lord Montressor.

“All hands up anchor! Each man to his post!—and you, Willful, to the helm!”

The orders were obeyed with alacrity.

“Man the windlass.”

The four sailors came forward and laid themselves to the bars.

“Heave! heave hearty, my men! And you, Edwy, play up, my boy!”

This last order was given to the younger lad, who raised the fife he held in his hand and began to play a lively inspiring air, while the men with all their strength heaved at the windlass. The anchor was soon apeak, and hauled up to the side of the vessel, catted and fished.

“Quick! now, my men!—haul in the larboard braces forward!—haul home the starboard braces abaft!” shouted Barbara.

It was done.

“Stand by to set the tops’il! Man the lee sheet! Ease down the buntlines and lee clew-line! Haul home the lee sheet! Now then, hoist away! Cheerly, boys—cheerly! Brace all taut!”

The tops’il thus set, the vessel moved slowly before the wind, bearing down toward a schooner that was coming in, on the lee side.

Barbara shouted—

“You, Willful! what are you about there? Port the helm! Keep her clear of that schooner ahead! So—steady—nothing off!”

The lad understanding the risk, exerted himself until all danger of collision was past.

“Set the jib!—there!—Hoist the mains’il!—Brace round—there—there!—Stand by to haul out the mizzen!—And you, Willful, helm-a-lee!—so!—steady—stead-y!”

The sails now filled with the wind, the craft moved swiftly onward. But Barbara thought that she could carry more canvas. She gave the order—

“Stand by to hoist the to’-gallant-s’il!”

The men worked heartily. And the vessel, now under as much sail as she could safely carry, ran before the wind, and passing between the North Point and the Bodkin, stood gallantly out to sea.

Barbara drew a long breath, and came aft to speak to her passenger. Her cheeks were beautifully flushed, her eyes were sparkling, and her black hair, in that short ripple that indicates great vigor of constitution, was floating freely in the breeze. She seemed in no wise “breathed” by her late exertions. Lord Montressor, as he looked at her, thought he had never in his life seen a finer woman.

“We have the prospect of a pleasant voyage, sir,” she said. “With us, the prevailing winds are, at this season, from the North West; we shall probably sail before a fair wind the whole way. Neither, this month, is there much chance of a thunder storm.”

Lord Montressor bowed. “That is an agreeable hearing, Miss Brande; but do you not stop at any port on your voyage out?”

“At no port, sir; but I shall cast anchor for a few hours at the Headland—my old home, sir, where I shall have to go ashore, to settle some final business with the young widow lady who has leased it of me. And if you shall be disposed to accompany me there, sir, I can show you one of the oldest houses in Maryland—a house that was built in the year 1635.”

“And when shall we reach this Headland?”

“With this fair wind, in six or seven days, sir.”

Now what fatality was it, that prevented Lord Montressor from finding out the name of “the young widow lady” who had leased Barbara Brande’s house?—or from at once accepting her invitation, when they should reach the Headland, to go on shore and look at the house? That life is full of blindly missed possibilities, is the only answer I can find.

They continued talking much longer; Lord Montressor growing every moment more pleased with his acquaintance; for there was a frankness, a directness, an uprightness and a _down_rightness about Barbara Brande, that commanded respect.

“Excuse me now, sir,” she said, at last, “I must go and relieve my young helmsman; he is tired, I know,” and going forward, she took the tiller from the hand of the boy and sent him away.

They had, as Barbara predicted, a very quick and pleasant run down the Bay; and on the morning of the eighth day, at sunrise, anchored off the Headland.

Lord Montressor came on deck, where he found Barbara giving her orders. On seeing him she came aft.

“Good-morning, sir! You are out early! We have just cast anchor. We shall lie here all day. Look, sir! there is my dear, old home.”

Lord Montressor looked across the water to the dark Headland that, crested with its old forest trees, loomed to leeward. The sun, rising behind the shore, threw the whole place into the deepest shadow—altogether it presented a gloomy, weird, and forbidding aspect.

“It is very picturesque,” said Lord Montressor.

“Yes!—and very interesting in some of its features. They are getting ready the boat for me to go on shore. I should be happy to have you over, if you would like to accompany me.”

“I thank you, Miss Brande—if you or your tenant will give me the privilege of a day’s shooting in your woods, I shall be pleased to go on shore,” said Lord Montressor, bowing.

“Oh, sir! We have no game laws or preserves here! Our game is as free as it is abundant—our woods as open as they are extensive. I am very glad that you should be able to amuse yourself for a day. There are also stanch pointers at the Headland, and old Neptune who has them in charge will be as good a guide as any gamekeeper in England,” said Barbara.

Lord Montressor expressed his thanks.

“And now, my lord, let us to breakfast; and then to the boats.”

Lord Montressor first went below to order his groom to get out his fowling-piece, powder-flask, shot-pouch, game-bag, etc., and then followed Barbara into the cabin, where the early morning meal was spread.

After breakfast, leaving Willful and two sailors in charge of the vessel, Barbara, her younger brother, Lord Montressor, and his groom entered the boat and were rowed rapidly toward the Headland. On reaching the beach Barbara said—

“Will you go up to the house, sir?”

“No, I thank you very much, Miss Brande; I think not,” replied his lordship, feeling unwilling to intrude upon the unknown Lady, who was Barbara’s tenant.

“Then—come hither, Edwy! attend Lord Montressor to Uncle Nep’s quarter. Tell the old man to take the dogs, and show his lordship where to find the birds,” said Barbara.

Edwy came forward and bowed, expressing his readiness.

And with a mutual “good-morning,” the parties separated—Barbara Brande going up to the house, while Lord Montressor and his companions sought the woods.