know this Captain Paul, then?"
"I? not in the least! But as nephew of an admiral, I am naturally acquainted with every officer of a ship, from a boatswain, who pipes the hands aloft, to the rear admiral, who commands a squadron. Besides which, we sailors have secret signs among us, a certain masonic language, by which we know one another as brothers in whatever part of the ocean we may meet. You may, therefore, accept my proposal with the same frankness in which I offer it. I, my rowers, and my boat, are at your disposal."
"Do me this service, then," said Emanuel, "and" —
"You will forgive me the annoyance I have caused by my tergiversations, will you not?" said the lieutenant. "You cannot be surprised at it," continued he smiling, "my dear count, the solicitude of a seaman's life has given to us children of the sea, the habit of soliloquising. During a calm, we invoke the winds! During the tempest, we invoke the calm; and during the night we address ourselves to God."
Emanuel again looked doubtingly at his companion, who met his gaze with that apparent good tempered simplicity, which had appeared to spread over his features every time he had become the object of investigation, to the mousquetaire. The latter was surprised at this mixture of contempt for human things, and of poetic feeling toward the works of God. But finding that this singular man was disposed to render him, although in a strange manner, the service he had asked of him, he accepted his proffered assistance. Five minutes afterwards, the two young men were advancing towards the unknown vessel with as much rapidity as the vigor of six stout rowers could give to the light bark in which they were seated. Their oars rose and fell with so regular a movement, that it appeared rather impelled by some powerful machine, than by the combination of human strength.
CHAPTER II. – THE FRIGATE
And oh! the little warlike world within!
The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy;
The hoarse command, the busy humming din-
When, at a word, the tops are mann'd on high,
Hark to the boatswain's call, the cheering cry;
While through the seaman's hands the tackle glides:
Or schoolboy midshipman that, standing by,
Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides,
And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides. – Byron.
As they advanced, the graceful form of the ship became more and more clearly defined, and although the vocation of the count did not lead him to admire beauty under such a form, yet he could not avoid being struck by the graceful model of her construction, the loftiness and strength of her masts, and the elegance of her rigging, which appeared, as it stood out against the richly tinted sky, reddened by the setting sun, to be composed of flexible and silky fibres, spun by some gigantic spider. There was not, however, any appearance of movement on board the ship, which seemed, either from inattention or contempt, to care but little for the visit she was about to receive. The young mousquetaire thought, however, at one moment, that he perceived the end of a telescope peeping out of one of the port-holes, near the muzzle of a gun, and which was pointed towards the boat; but the ship being gently moved round by the quiet heaving of the waves, presented her prow toward them, his attention was attracted by the figure-head which generally bears some allusion to the name of the vessel that it decorates: it was a representation of one of the daughters of America, discovered by Columbus, and conquered by Cortez, with a head-dress of many colored feathers, her bosom naked, and ornamented with a coral necklace. As to the remainder of the figure, it was a curious combination, half syren, half serpent, attached to the fore part of the ship in a graceful though fantastic form. The nearer the boat approached the ship, the more did the attention of the count appear attracted by this figure. It was, in fact, a sculpture, not only singular as to form, but very remarkable from the finish of its execution; and it was easy to perceive, that it was not the work of vulgar hands, but had been carved by a superior artist. The lieutenant remarked, with the satisfaction of a seaman, the increasing admiration which appeared in the countenance of the soldier; and at last perceiving that his attention was concentrated in the figure-head we have described, he seemed to wait with impatience that the latter should express his opinion upon it; but finding that he did not give any, although they were near enough not to lose any of its beauties, he took upon himself to be the first to speak, and to question his young companion.
"Well, count," said he, concealing the interest which he took in his reply under an apparent gaiety, "what do you think of this master-piece?"
"I think," replied Emanuel, "that comparing it with works of the same description, which I have seen, it merits the appellation which you have given it."
"Yes," said the lieutenant, carelessly, "it is the last work of William Coustou, who died before he had completed it: it was finished by one of his pupils, named Duprè, a man of genius, who is starving, and who is obliged to carve wood for want of marble, and to cut figure-heads of ships, when he ought to be employed in sculpturing statues. See," said he, giving an impulsion to the rudder which laid then across her bows, "it is a real necklace of coral that she wears, and they are real pearls that are hanging from her ears. As to her eyes, each pupil is a diamond worth a hundred guineas. The captain who takes this frigate, will, besides the honor of capturing her, have a splendid wedding present to offer to his bride."
"What an odd caprice," exclaimed Emanuel, carried away by the singularity of the object he was gazing at, "to ornament a ship in the same way that one would an animated, being, and to risk considerable sums to the chances of a battle, or the dangers of a storm."
"Why should this astonish you?" said the lieutenant with an accent of indescribable melancholy; "we seamen have no other family than our sailors, no other country but the ocean, no gorgeous pageants but the tempest, no amusements but the battle. We must attach ourselves to something, having no real mistresses, for who would love us sea-gulls, who are always on the wing? We must therefore shape to ourselves an imaginary love. The one becomes enamoured of some verdant and shady island, and every time he perceives one in the distance, rising from the ocean like a flower garden, his heart becomes as joyous as that of a bird, when returning to its nest. Another selects some favorite star from out the firmament, and during the long and lovely nights on the Atlantic, every time he passes the equator, it appears to him that it approaches nearer to him, and salutes him with a more vivid light. There are others, and they are the greater number, who attach themselves to their frigate as to a well beloved daughter, who groan whenever the tempest tears away any part of her, at every wound given by the shot that strikes her, and when she is at length sunk by the tempest or the combat, prefer to perish with her, rather than to save themselves without her, giving to landsmen a holy example of fidelity. Captain Paul is one of the latter class, that's all, and he has given to his frigate the wedding present which he had intended for his bride. Ah? I see they are waking up."
"Boat ahoy?" cried some one from on board the frigate, "what boat's that?"
"We want to come on board," replied Emanuel; "throw us a rope that we may catch hold of."
"Go round to the starboard side, and you will find the gangway ladder."
The sailors pulled round, and in a few seconds the two young men were going up the ship's side. The officer of the watch came forward with an eagerness which appeared in Emanuel's mind to promise well.
"Sir," said the lieutenant to a young man who was dressed in the same uniform as himself, and appeared to be of the same rank, "this is my friend, the Count – By the by, I forgot to ask your name?"
"Count Emanuel d'Auray."
"I was saying then, that this is my friend, the Count Emanuel d'Auray, who anxiously desires to
