Flora Lyndsay Volume I Part 25

The Captain, a stout, broad-shouldered, red-faced man, like Captain Ayre of the _Flora_, was minus an eye; but the one which fortune had left him was a piercer. He was a rough, blunt-looking tar, some forty-five or fifty years of age; and looked about as sentimental and polite as a tame bear. His coa.r.s.e, weather-beaten face had an honest, frank expression, and he bade his guests to be seated with an air of such hearty hospitality, that they felt quite at home in his narrow low den.

He had no cabin-pa.s.sengers, though a great many in the steerage; and he a.s.sured Flora that she could have the very best accommodations, as he would resign the state-cabin to her and the child. Mr. Lyndsay could occupy the mate's berth in the cabin, and they could not fail of being quite snug and comfortable.

The state-cabin was just big enough to hold the captain's chest of drawers, the top of which, boarded, and draped with the same faded red stuff which decorated the outer room, formed the berth that Flora was to occupy. Small as the place was, it was scrupulously neat and clean, and possessed for Flora one great charm-that of privacy. She could, by shutting the door and drawing the bolt, at any time enjoy the luxury of finding herself, though in a crowded vessel, alone.

"Mamma Flora, are you not charmed with the splendid accommodations of your fancy ship?" whispered the mischievous Jim. "There is not room for a flea to hop, without giving him the cramp in his legs."

"It is better than the _Flora_; so hold your tongue, you wicked imp."

But Lyndsay thought otherwise. The _Flora_ was larger, and was to sail a fortnight earlier. He demurred-his wife coaxed and entreated; but he only went so far as to tell the captain to keep the berths unoccupied until the following day, and he would inform him of his final determination.

Just as they were rising to take leave, a tall, lanky man, stuck his long scraggy neck in at the cabin-door, and, in the broadest Scotch vernacular, exclaimed,-

"To what port are ye bound, man?"

"Quebec and Montreal."

"Wull you tak' a cabin-pa.s.senger on reasonable terms?"

"The fare is fixed by the owner of the vessel, P. Gregg, Bank-street, Leith. You had better apply to him."

"Weel, I dinna' think I'll jest go noo. I want to see the Canada lochs.

Ane o' these days I'll tak' pa.s.sage wi' you onyhow."

"Perhaps a gla.s.s of brandy and water would serve your purpose at this time," said the captain, with a knowing smile.

"I've noo objections, captain," said the long-visaged traveller to the lochs o' Canada.

"That's one way of getting a gla.s.s of brandy for nothing," said the captain, as he accompanied the Lyndsays to the deck. "That fellow has as much notion of going to Canada, as I have of taking a voyage to the moon. But he knows that I will give him the brandy to get rid of him."

"What do you think of the _Anne_ and her captain, John?" said Flora, as she took the proffered arm of her husband. "He is a rough sailor, but looks like an honest man. And the ship, though small, is clean, and offers better accommodations than the _Flora_, where we should have to share a small cabin with fourteen pa.s.sengers."

"My dear wife, it may all be true what you say; but I have made up my mind to go in the _Flora_. She sails so much earlier, that it will be a great saving of time and expense."

Flora's countenance fell; but she only muttered to herself,-

"Oh, I have such a horror of going in that ship!"

At the turning of the street they met Mr. Peterson, the owner of the _Flora_, to whom Lyndsay had spoken about taking a pa.s.sage in her the day before.

"Well, Mr. Lyndsay," said he, shaking hands in a friendly manner with him; "have you concluded to take pa.s.sage in my vessel?"

"Not quite," returned Lyndsay, laughing. "My wife has such an unconquerable aversion to going with your captain and his sons, on account of the reprobate language they used the other day in her hearing, that she has actually found up another vessel in which she wishes me to sail."

"Oh, the _Anne_, Captain Williams," said Peterson, with a contemptuous smile,-"the last and the most insignificant vessel which leaves our port. The owner, P. Gregg, is not a liberal person to deal with; the captain is a good seaman, but a stubborn brute,-quite as unfit for the society of ladies as Captain Ayre. To tell you the truth, we have little choice in these matters. It is not the manners of the men we employ we generally look to, but to their nautical skill. There is, however, one great objection to your taking pa.s.sage in the _Anne_, which I think it right you should know. She has a most objectionable freight."

"In what respect?"

"She is loaded with brandy and gunpowder."

"By no means a pleasant cargo," said Lyndsay. "What do you say to that, Flora?" turning to his wife.

"I will tell you to-morrow: do wait until then."

In order to pacify her evident uneasiness, Lyndsay promised to postpone his decision.

When they reached their lodgings, they found a short, round-faced, rosy, good-natured looking individual, waiting to receive them, who introduced himself as Mr. Gregg, the owner of the _Anne_. He had learned from Captain Williams, that they had been inspecting the capabilities of his vessel.

"She is a small ship," said he, "but safe; the captain, a steady, experienced seaman; and if Mr. Lyndsay engaged a pa.s.sage for himself and family, he would grant the most liberal terms."

Lyndsay mentioned his objections to the freight.

"Who told you that?" asked the little owner, somewhat excited.

"Mr. Peterson. We parted from him only a few minutes ago."

"The scoundrel! the mean, dirty scoundrel!" said Gregg, stamping on the floor. "Why, Sir, Mr. Lyndsay, his own ship carries the same freight.

What did he say about that?"

"He told me yesterday, she took out a general cargo--"

"Of brandy and gunpowder. Both vessels are employed by the same house, and take out the same freight. You must, however, please yourself, Mr.

Lyndsay. The _Flora_ has a great number of pa.s.sengers of the lowest cast,-is old and crank; with the most vicious, morose captain that sails from this port. I know him only too well. He made two voyages for me; and the letters I received, complaining of his brutal conduct to some of his pa.s.sengers, I can show you at my office."

"You have said enough, Mr. Gregg, to deter me from taking my wife and child in the _Flora_. The deceitful conduct of Mr. Peterson alone would have determined me not to contract with him. And now, what will you take us for? Our party consists of my wife and infant, a lad of thirteen years who accompanies us, a servant-girl, and myself."

Mr. Gregg considered for some minutes. "Well," he said, "there is a large party of you; but I will give your wife, child, and self, a cabin pa.s.sage, finding you in the same fare as the captain, and the lad and servant a second cabin pa.s.sage, but the privilege of the cabin-table, for thirty pounds. Is that too much?"

"It is very liberal indeed. Peterson asked fifty."

"It is reasonable; but as you have to wait a fortnight longer in order to sail with me, I have taken that into account. Is it a bargain?"

They struck hands; and Mr. Gregg, after drawing up an agreement, which Lyndsay signed, turned to Mrs. Lyndsay, and pressingly invited the whole party to spend the following afternoon with them in a friendly way.

"My wife is a homely little body," he said; "but she will do her best to make you comfortable, and will give you, at any rate, a hearty Scotch welcome."

"Now, Flora, are you not delighted in having it your own way?" said Lyndsay, after Mr. Gregg left them. "But let me a.s.sure you, my dear wife, you owe it entirely to the mean conduct of Mr. Peterson. I tell you frankly, that I would not have yielded my better judgment to a mere prejudice, even to please you."

"You are determined, John, that I shall never fulfil the gipsy's prophecy."

"What was that?"

"Did I never tell you that story, nor the girls either? for it was a standing joke against me at home for years. Oh, you must have it then.

But be generous, and don't turn it as a weapon against me:-

"Some years ago, a gipsy woman came to our kitchen-door, and asked to see the young ladies of the house. Of course, we all ran out to look at the sybil, and hear her errand, which was nothing more nor less than to tell our fortunes. Partly out of curiosity, partly out of fun, we determined to have a peep into futurity, and see what the coming years had in store for us. We did not believe in gipsy craft. We well knew that, like our own, the woman's powers were limited; that it was all guess-work; that her cunning rested in a shrewd knowledge of character,-of certain likings springing out of contrasts, which led her to match the tall with the short, the fair with the dark, the mild with the impetuous, the sensitive and timid with the bold and adventurous. On these seeming contrarieties the whole art of fortune-telling, as far as my experience goes, appears based.

"Well, she gave husbands to us all-dark, fair, middle-complexioned, short and tall, amiable, pa.s.sionate, or reserved-just the opposite of our own complexions or temperament, such as she judged them to be; and she showed a great deal of talent and keen perception of character in the choice of our mates.