Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 21, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 December 1899 — The Sea King [ARTICLE]

The Sea King

@~-A ROMANCE OF THE WAR OF 1812,-s® ■

By CAPTAIN MARRYAT.

CHAPTER I. Many years ago there stood upon the banks of the Schuylkill a mansion, at that time much admired for the beauty and chastity of its construction. It was one of those old-fashioned tenements that may be seen even now in some cities of Virginia and Maryland. It consisted of a main building and two smaller wings, a huge flight of marble steps conducted to the main entrance, and the upper stories were lighted by oriel windows; in front, a long graveled avenue interspersed with Lombardy poplars, and terminating with an arched gateway at the roadside, afforded a passage through the domain; and in the rear, at the foot of the ascent, upon the summit of which stood the dwelling, were situated the barn, stables and carriage houses. The grounds in the vicinity were laid out in flower beds, redolent with all the roses of America, and long arched arbors of blushing grapes flanked the garden on either hand; to the right a beautiful summer house rose from the pinnacle of a steep rock, and round and about its slender columns bloomed the white jasmine, the yellow marigold and the azure violet. From this site the view was magnificent. On the right, far as the eye could reach, were seen the blue waters of the Delaware stretching away to seaward, broken here and there by headlands, and dotted in many parts of its surface by vessels passing to and from Philadelphia; on the left and in front, on the further side of the further river, were seen the green fields and forests of New Jersey; immediately under your feet flowed the glassy waters of the Schuylkill, and between the two streams rose the city itself, like some vast panorama set in a frame of glittering silver. It was a sunny morning in the loveliest month of the year, a gentle breeze came sweeping along laden with the fragrance of every flower it passed, rippling the waters of the river, and showering its perfume and freshness amid the streets of the city; the grass was yet moist, and the big dewdrops still sparkled upon the odorous lilac; the carol of a thousand birds swelled in the glad air, and the lowing of cattle and bleating of flocks imparted an animation to the rurality of the scene which was enchanting. A single individual sat gazing upon the scene from one of the parlors of the mansion, but its harmony seemed to mock him, for there was a deep frown upon his brow, and his eye glowed with The age of the stranger was nearly half a century; his countenance had evidently been at one time handsome, but fierce and unconquerable passions had planted lines there that left but few traces of former beauty. It was evident, from the frequent and impatient glances he cast toward the door, that he was in waiting for someone; twice he reached for the bell string, but as often paused on hearing a noise without; at length, however, when his patience had become well nigh exhausted, the door opened, and a youth of sixteen entered the apartment. For a moment they mutually observed each other in silence, the father scowling with wrath and the son looking him calmly but not disrespectfully in the eye. Harry Sutherland had viewed the angry cloud upon his parent’s brow too often in his life to be awed by the storm it betokened, and he stood up before him collected almost to indifference. “Did you wish to see me, pa?" asks the boy, with a composure that irritated his sire more than perhaps the offense for which he was arraigned. “Wish to see you, sir!” repeated the father in a loud,' angry and sarcastic tone; “no, sir, I never wished to see you —never; I would be glad, sir, if you were removed to some remote corner of the earth, where your presence could never offend my eyes, and where reports of your disobdience and bad conduct could never reach my ears.” The son made no reply; for words from him, he well knew, could not assuage the wrath of his exasperated father. “You are notorious for discreditable actions, sir,” resumed the angry parent: “your very name is a synonym with infamy, you are a disgrace to both yourseff and me.” % *But, father, I have not disobeyed you/ in this matter; you accuse me wrongfully this time, for I will convince you, if you will do me the favor to listen dispassionately for a moment, that I am totally innocent.” “Don’t attempt to reason with me. sir!” exclaimed the sire. “And hark ye, young man, in after years, when your profligacy shall have involved you in difficulty and disgrace, tell it not that I caused your ruin; recollect, sir, that I have taken with you all the pains a father could bestow upon the most obedient child; and what has been the result—how have you repaid me?” “But, father, let me explain ” “Don’t father me, sir,” interrupted the parent, “you are no son of mine—no, son of mine; from henceforth I disclaim you —I disown you—l <!enounce you; there runs not a drop of my blood in your veins '—nßt a drop, not one drap;” and as he concluded, he sprang from his chair and commenced pacing the apartment, muttering incoherent invectives at every stride. Harry Sutherland had at first borne the angry tempest of his father’s wrath with composure and meekness; but when the sire, inflamed by passion, rejected and denied him, his face turned as pale as death, and he trembled in every limb from excessive agitation. The distress of the son was unperceived at first by the father, but when .he raised his eyes and discovered the emotion which his harsh words had aroused in the breast of his child he stopped suddenly, and his features waxed into a milder but still repulsive expression. “You were saying,” said he, in a lower “that you could explain away your oftow Qi: ltrt t nifhtu hope you . will be

“I am sorry I cannot oblige you,”, said the son, with apparent mildness. “How, sir! did I not understand you to say that you could clear up the matter in a satisfactory manner?” “I could have done so, had you permitted me when I first'proposed It; it would be'supererogatory to attempt it now.” “Why so, sir?” demanded the father, sharply; “if it was then in your power, is it not equally so now?” “It is too late now, sir.” “Convince me that I have been mistaken.” “It matters not now, sir. I have been rebuked for the offense.” “And you will not undeceive me?” “No, sir.” The father hesitated a moment, as if in doubt as to the proper course to be pursued. At first he was disposed to become again enraged; but when he met the calm, bold, blue eyes of his high-spirited son, he became at once convinced that such a measure could be productive of no good consequence. “Stubborn boy!” said he, at length, biting his lips with vexation, which he in vain endeavored to conceal. Harry saw the anguish of his sire; he felt his own triumph, too; and, though it was a proud moment for him, he was too generous to take advantage of his mastery. He could not injure the feelings of a father, though that father had never spared his; he was touched, and in mercy he resumed. “After the acknowledgments you have to-day made, I cannot longer remain an inmate of your house. The obligations I am under to you are and shall never be forgotten, though they can never be repaid. I am not wanting in gratitude, sir, though I may have been in rectitude; and that my unfortunate, though involuntary, errors may not in future disturb your equanimity, I shall perpetuate them in another sphere. Farewell, sir,” and as he concluded be suddenly withdrew from the apartment, leaving his father motionless with amazement.

“Come back, my -Harry, come back!” exclaimed the miserable parent, when surprise at length permitted him to speak. bu£ no reply broke the dead silence that succeeded. Where were now the violent passions of that proud man? He turned pale, trembled, and a tear moistened his eye; he tottered to the window, raised the sash, and was just in time to obtain a parting glance of his offended boy, as he descended a knoll on his way to the city. Though Harry Sutherland was but a youth in years and experience, he was a man in feeling and character. Like all persons who have a restraint imposed upon them, he was mild and irregular whenfreed from the immediate influence of that thralldom, and had of late indulged in a series of frolicsome and mischievous pranks, one of which gave rise to the scene we have just detailed, and one. too of which Harry was entirely innocent. But these erratic practices were more the momentary caprice of a sanguine and happy temperament than the exercise of vitiated and corrupt impulses; and had he been left unchecked in his mad career, he would soon have become tired and satiated • with it, and would in all probability have returned with increased avidity to a more exemplary course of life. Though Harry delivered his valedictory speech with an appearance of calmness, it was an assumption of feeling that he was far from experiencing. Even then the volcano was raging within, and in a very few moments after he had quitted the presence of his father it burst forth with* additional fury, in consequence of being for a time restrained. But that overwhelming storm- of passion, though heart-rending and violent while it continued, was of short duration; like the whirlwind, it rose loud, violent and prostrating, but, like the whirlwind, it lasted but a few brief instants and then subsided in calm. Sad, silent and sorrowful, he pursued his way, nor turned he once to gaze upon his paternal walls until he had arrived at the opposite bank of the Schuylkill; then, indeed, he paused and looked back, long and wistfully, and when he again turned to resume his uncertain course he sighed; for, though his home had been no home to him, he left it with some such feelings, though with far different inclinations, than our first forefather experienced when ejected frbm the bowers of Eden.

CHAPTER n. Although the strange youth sallied forth alone, he went not unaided; he was determined, persevering and ambitious; and these are qualities that befriend us to the last, and that often prove far more successful than personal influence, for the latter but points out the road to fame, while the former, like, a faithful guide, accompanies you on to the very goal. He was proud, too, not of anything he possessed in himself over the rest of mankind, but proud of their opinions—proud, that his impulses were all honorable — proud that he never had been guilty of anything for which he should feel selfabased. And now he beheld _ himself thrown entirely upon his own resources, and this in itself inspired him with feelings he had been a stranger to before. As Harry Sutherland pursued his course, building fancies of hope for the future, a sudden- brightness illuminated the sky in a distant quarter of the city, and then followed the startling cry of “Fire!” faint and far off at first, but gradually swelling and disseminating until the alarm had penetrated the most distant streets and avenues of the town. The atmosphere, from a deep lurid, became brightly red, and as the conflagration increased, huge misshapen masses of black smoke [filed itself upward, studded with sparks that shone like so many guttering stars through a storm cloud. to save themselves from destruction. The

devouring element had raged for soma time undiscovered, and when it at last! burst from the lower windows of the house it had taken so great a hold within that all efforts to preserve the movables were regarded as ineffective. While the multitude were yet preparing to extinguish the conflagration their attention was suddenly and powerfully arrested by a shriek, so wild, so powerful, and so expressive of excruciating agony, that all voices were hushed, and all operations suspended as if by magic. That fearful cry sent the life-blood thrilling through the veins of all who, beard it: “Save, oh, save my child! save her for the love of heaven! quick, or she will perish!” An awful pause succeeded this passionate invocation. To ascend to the room which the distracted mother pointed out as the sleeping apartment of her child by the stairways was an utter impossibility, as they were completely enveloped in flame. None had the hardihood to attempt it; but when ladders were brought and placed against the walls, more than twenty intrepid firemen sprang forward to the rescue of the unfortunate little girl; but when they had gained the windows, they found it impossible to enter, as the smoke was gushing in clonds so th'ck, so black, and so suffocating, that they deemed it as impossible to exist one moment within the apartment, as it was to recognize objects through the opaque atmosphere. A youth of slender proportions was seen ascending the ladder, with an air of determination that seemed to inspire the crowd with new hope. He leaped into the apartment, remaining there but a very short time, and yet It seemed to those below a long, long while —the pain, the suspense, the hopes, the fears of an age were crowded in that brief moment. At last he reappeared—but alone. An exclamation of disappointment ran through the crowd; but before it had died away, another youth of nearly the same age and size sprang upon a second ladder, and commenced ascending to the window. The stranger was Harry Sutherland; he had just arrived at the scene of action, and was learning the cause of the deep excitement, when a beautiful female, whose dress was disordered, and whose hair hung disheveled down her back, seized him suddenly by the arm. “Will you rescue my child?” asked the mother; and observing that Harry hesitated, she bounded wildly forward, and seized the rounds with the intention of mounting herself; but the youth caught her as suddenly and, pushing her aside, he rushed up and leaped into the glowing apartment. There succeeded a dead silence,* and then a tremendous crash announced that some part of the interior had given way; but the fears of the multitude were in a moment quieted, on perceiving that the floor of the upper apartments was still entire. Another moment elapsed, and then arose one of the longest, loudest and most exulting shouts that ever rang upon the ears of created man; again that wild burst of delight reverberated on the night air, and again, and again, until the very city trembled beneath the universal jubilation. The mother, frantic with delight, took her child from the arms of her deliverer, and after gazing for a moment in its beautiful eyes, she clasped the darling Mo her bosom and covered its sweet countenance with kisses. That was the happiest moment of Harry Sutherland’s life. He felt then, as he gazed upon the cherub he had snatched from destruction, and the mother he had saved from misery, that it was not in the province of man to enjoy raptures of bliss more divine than those that at that moment thrilled in his veins; but few.of the millions who have passed from the cradle to the grave ever experienced that exquisite sensation of delight—he was himself a stranger to it forever after.

It was not until the transports of the mother had subsided into a calmer current that she once thought of him who had rescued her child; then, indeed, the thought that he had been so long neglected rushed painfully upon her mind, and, depositing her precious burden in the arms of her household, she took him by the hand, but, not finding words to express her gratitude, she fell upon his neck and burst into a flood of tears. “Brave, noble, generous youth!” sobbed she, “it will never be in my power to reward you, but my blessing, a mother’s blessing, shall attend you wherever you go, and a mother’s prayer shall nightly be offered up for you to Him who only can recompense rhe disinterested act you have just performed.” Harry Sutherland was distressed; and yet he was happy. Tears were in his eyes, but joy was at his heart; and, glad at length to escape from observation, he sought his way out of the crowd, and turned toward another and a more silent quarter of the city. But he was followed by a second person; the strange youth who had also endeavored to save the child, pursued him through every street and lane he traversed for nearly a quarter of an hour. At length the latter hestened his pace, and, touching Harry upon the shoulder, the two were confronted face to face.

The stranger, though he had sought an interview, remained silent, as if he had expected the other to address him, and Harry, surprised at length that he spoke not, demanded what he required of him. “Nothing,”, replied the strange youth. “Then why have you stopped me?” asked our hero, somewhat angrily. - “To tell you,” replied the other, “that you have robbed me.” “Robbed you! Of what, pray?” “Of the gratification of rescuing that child.” “Are you mad?” “No, sir.” “Then what is your meaning? I don’t understand you. Your language to me is all an enigma.” ' . “You have received approbation tonight which should have been bestowed upon me. I was on the very eve of distinguishing myself, and you came and blasted my hopes.” • • \ “Fool!” exclaimed Harry, nettled at the other’s inconsistency, “you had abandoned the project in despair before I attempt-ed-it” “I would have tried it again; I would have ultimately succeeded,” said the stranger. “Perhaps so,” replied Harry; “but since the child has been saved, what matters it to you?” “What matters it to me!” said the other, repeating his companion’s words in undisguised astonishment. “Yes.” The stranger spoke not another word, but turning upon his heel, h» walked off, leaving Harry Sutherland to resume his way and muse in mute astonishment QV«r that encounter. (To be continued.)