Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 21, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 December 1899 — The Sea King. [ARTICLE]

The Sea King.

ROMANCE OF THE WAR OF

By CAPTAIN MARRYAT.

CHAPTER V. i« not necessary to the order of our that we should follow minutely e incidents that were connected with career of Harry Sutherland. His were particularly beneficial to the of his country, and a short time the commissioners were dispatched HBBf negotiate the treaty that put a final HHkI to the differences between Great and America he was advanced to HHkK rank of post captain in the navy. ©©Nearly two years had elapsed since his ■MBpartnre from New York before he again HsSHpuried to his native city. He had been MBKSaRt constantly afloat from the date of ©©£ entry until his promotion, and had ©©Several occasions distinguished himself with those heroes who, sally■H©E<oat with their scanty fleets to oppose HKarmadas of a powerful maritime na"flushed with the recollection of a HMMnaand victories and confident in fuyet taught them that victory ©Kknot always to the strong and that a cause is sometimes more effective |©Kan S host of men in arms. BMBtjEtrTy Sutherland, who had but a little BMmAIU before wandered from his parental BggSbode, a mere boy, almost friendless and gb&Mtno wn. had now returned with the lauBBtor his brow, to the shores of that he so ably defended against her ■Hmeniies. He had come back to live with ■©■tee in whose memories he was cherishwith honor, and in whose affections he ffißSKs remembered with gratitude; he had ©ggsßaved the terrors of the battle and the of the tempest, that his native land be blessed with liberty and peace. late in an evening in September he arrived in Philadelphia. His ■©Kining was unexpected, and consequentthere were none to receive him. \\ hat ©©contrast with his debarkation at New llllllßark but one week before! then the huzMMKig of a multitude had welcomed him. ’fe stopped upon the wharf amid a vaBBHaety of emotions; all the actions of his ■kt life, all his hopes and fears, all the ©©tiicies that his imagination had pictured ©Kyears, rushed upon his mind, creating |M|©|BXcitement that grew painful with its ©■©he waters of the Schuylkill flashed ©©More him; then the contiguity of his ©||||riy home brought other thoughts and ©sjther recollections; every spot of ground ■minded him of some feat or frolic of his every feature of the scene gave Sfffg&i'rth to some familiar reminiscence or ©©ther, and, he thought, of happier days, crossed the river, the moonlit river, |g©ie ascended the further bank, and the ©Kansion of his father broke full upon bis ||||||Entering the gate, he passed along the im&raveled avenue with a pace somewhat ©©federated. At the foot of the steps a ©jßmge Newfoundland dog was reposing up©■fe a mat —it was his old playfellow—the gSMeompanion of all his juvenile expeditions; &’"©it called to him, he patted him, but the ©Kiimal growled at his caresses; he had the hand that once fed him. HH©Wi hout waiting to be admitted, he EHjpened the door, and turning to the right, entered the sitting room. A solitary ©Hutdividual occupied a chair in front of ©■he fire, and was seemingly lost in revHHjrie. yet he could not mistake the contour H©tf that form, although his face was turnaway; it was his sire. ©|i/“Father!” exclaimed Harry Sutherland, forth his hand. old man started at the sound, rose HRgrom his seat, a beam of joy irradiated BHH* countenance, and in another moment was in the arms of his long-lost boy. ©|K.There are periods in our existence when pause, as it were, and look back upon incidents of other years, as the trav|©teler who stops in the highway to study |©tat and reflect upon things that he scarce©©y noticed in his passage; and the few that our hero spent beneath the roof ■■of his paternal domain was to him that of life. SB Kin the peaceful retirement of his home ■©Harry Sutherland learned to commune ©©&h his own thoughts, and in a spirit, better suited to contemplation; for MKhis feelings sympathized with the calmH©feess of everything around him, giving gUßyto his mental powers a store of additional as well as a greater degree HKof application: so that in a little time he into that meditative and solitary MHiamnd that his wild and exciting profession MKhari for a season partially quenched, but totally extinguished. BB was one circumstance that at ■©■pes threw a shade of sadness over his ©■Row and plunged him into an abyss of reflections, and that was the H©neep, though silent and somewhat stern MBqgpfef of his father. The same morbid ■Hfaaetancholy that he remembered him to ©f Indulge in still existed in his disposition; Me and though it was not now attended with HR the violent bursts of passion that he had ©eo often witnessed when a boy, there was S '* settled sorrow about it that rendered ©I, him even a more eligible object for com- © l The ton knew not to what cause this HB-offeet could be attributed. His father la- |||» bored under no embarrassments with re-||B'-spect to future; he was opulent to inde®£Kpendence; his health, though not the best, |||B&BS'.frr from being delicate; he was not ' fcnmbitious, nor proud, nor avaricious; nor ■©ras he really a misanthrope; and to study m#nt the causes of this peculiarity was Iff Batten the employment of our hero's St fcOfton Harry thought his father betray©p£ * want of confidence in him by not ■©©■Wr to him the cause of all this eviIffßfeat unhappiness. He considered himself Bwhow sufficiently experienced to be a con-||©HUitln-the sorrows of his sire, and had ||fMoto than once resolved to question him KfiJapon the subject. At length he could tolB J©» the anxiety produced by these no longer. B * dnll, disagreeable day. The ettf* and sou were the only occupants BKf the parlor. There had been a long ©■Ml neither had spoken for many min|Mk nnd each seemed to fear the sound hl a own voice oun some.

“Father,” said the son, at last, pained at the long-continued stillness, “are you unhappy ?” “Unhappy, Henry?” exclaimed the father, in a hollow voice, while he was ‘evidently startled at the question; “yes, my son, I am indeed unhappy, most unhappy.” “May I ask you, father, what has produced this state of feeling?” “Harry,” exclaimed the father, grasping the arm of his son with desperate wildness, “it is enough that one of us is miserable;” he stopped suddenly, rose from his seat, paced the apartment for awhile, and, bursting into tears, left his son alone, in mingled grief and astonishment. Our hero did not see his sire again that evening. All hope of ever discovering the cause of his parent’s sorrow by his own agency were now at an end; and though the words of his father had raised curiosity to a higher degree, he felt that he must leave to time and accident the longed-for eclaireissement. The winds had abated—the rain had ceased —and the vast cloud that had one hour before spanned the whole arch of heaven had been shattered into ten thousand fragments, through which the pale moon was struggling, brightening and darkening in her march like the firefly upon the wing. “How like the life of man is her career!” mused Harry Sutherland, as he gazed upward from the balcony. “He struggles on through all the ills that rise between his birth and death with the some obstinacy, and often with the same success, through disease, penury, public prejudice, disappointment and misery, rising at one instant superior to them all, and glittering in the power of his genins, but sinking in the next, until regenerating his resources he once more triumphs for an hour; and thus continues, until his course is done.” Indulging in these musings, Harry passed along the avenue, traversed its extent, and was in a few moments walking the high road leading toward the city; suddenly the figure of a man stood beside him, and he recognized the features of one whom he had not seen for a long time, but of whom he often thought. “Captain Manly, if I mistake not?” exclaimed our hero, grasping the proffered hand with a pleasant eagerness. “Your memory has not deceived you, Captain Sutherland,” replied the stranger. “I hope it never may, when I meet my friends, sir,” said Harry; “particularly those to whom I am under obligations.” “To have ever conferred a favor upon Captain Sutherland must be considered an honor.” “And where?” asked Harry, “have you been cruising since the declaration of peace? Methinks you have had but an idle time of it.” “A miserable time, Captain Sutherland. I want excitement. I have lived hpon it all my life, and it is absolutely necessary to the sustenance of the few years that yet remain to me. I will seek it in some foreign service, since it is denied me at home; nor care I much whether it be beneath the crescent of the Turks or the lily of the French.” “America would regret the loss of your services, Captain Manly. There are few men to whom she is more indebted for the peace she enjoys than yourself.” The stranger replied not immediately, but turning his dark, glowing eyee full upon the face of his companion, he seemed to study the expression of his features, with a scrutiny at once distasteful and severe; but there was nothing in the ealm countenance of Captain Sutherland that added fuel to his suspicion, and he turned his gaze slowly away. “Have you visited Washington since your return?” asked he. “No; duty to my father rendered my stay with him for awhile imperative.” “You will doubtless go there before long?” “Such is my intention at present.” “And will, of course, see William.” “Who?” “Mr. Hamilton, our mutual friend.” “Certainly, and shall be happy to be the bearer of any message you may have to transmit'.’ “Thanks! thanks!” replied the stranger. “I have little to say; nothing, in. fact nothing; you need not even mention the fact of having seen me. I would have him ignorant on the subject. He is impressed with the belief that 1 am sojourning in another country, and it is better that he be not undeceived,” and turning abruptly away, he passed swiftly from his presence and was soou lost in the gloom of the night. There was a mystery about the character of the stranger that had long before awakened the interest of Harry Sutherland. He had often recurred to his first interview with the renowned privateersman, but that mystery was never before so exciting as at the present moment His conversation—his manner—his unsettledness —everything was indicative of some imperative control beneath which his bold spirit lashed, and foamed, aud fretted, like the angry wave against the firm-set rock. CHAPTER VI. In the confliction of political events that characterized the struggle for individual popularity and party ascendency during the administration of James Madison, the efforts of no one man, at that period of public life, were so completely successful as were those of William Hamilton. He was possessed of immense wealth, and, having both the means and fee will, he failed not to dispense the most elegant hospitalities. His house was the resort for all the talent of the land; it was, indeed, the very temple of fashion, the depot of taste and accomplishment. Anna Hamilton was now a woman; a young woman truly in years, but a matron in manner and mind, nerftect a as \

man in his wildest dream of beauty could conceive, and as captivating in conversation and address as one could be who possessed grace, loveliness, talent and virtue. It was evening, and the lights had just begun to glimmer along the streets and avenues of the capital city, as Captain Sutherland, accompanied by a single servant, drove up and dismounted at the door of the principal hotel. Having satisfied his appettie, he rang for his servant, made his toilet, and sallied forth in search of the dwelling of Mr. Hamilton. With something like instinct he discovered that domicile; ascending the steps, he summoned a servant, who, to his inquiry if the owner of the mansion was within, responded in the affirmative. He had not been long seated before Mr. Hamilton made his appearance. “My dear Harry,” said he, clasping both his “the joy I feel in this meeting is greater than I have known before for a long, Jong time.” A When the civilities were ended, our hero asked for one in whom he was more interested than any other at that particular moment and learned to his disappointment that she had just gone to a ball at the house of the French minister. “We will’go, Harry,” said the old gentleman, taking, at the same time, his gold-headed cane; and as Captain Sutherland was attired in a becoming manner, he made no objection to this determination. A few minutes’ walk brought them to the house, and giving in their names, they were ushered into the apartments crowded with all the wit, beauty and talent of Washington. In vain Harry looked upon the fair beings that stood up in the different quadrilles. There many a pair of bright eyes met his glance, but they were not those he sought, and Le had almost given up the hope of finding her, when a musical voice fell upon his ear with an intonation that thrilled him with pleasure; it was the melody of other years, too sweet then to be forgotten now. He turned and beheld a beautiful creature in conversation with a tall, handsome young man of about his own age, one of the most prepossessing fellows, as he then thought, that he had ever beheld. There she stood, the same lovely being that had enchained his affections years before, and it seemed that those years had blessed her with additional loveliness, and that Time had brightened her eye and colored her cheek with the luster and the bloom he had stolen from the rest.

There she stood; he beheld her, a divinity in beauty, but, far the life of him, he could not advance. A thousand tumultuous emotions agitated him, and hope, the enchantress that had buoyed him up for years, deserted him at last. A moment more elapsed, and he was still unobserved. He felt that his happiness rested entirely upon his reception. A smile, a word, a look would decide everything, and Captain Sutherland, who had braved the wrath of the tempest, and the terrors of the battle, hesitated before the glance of a woman. Another moment’s reflection convinced him of his weakness, and blushing to have felt it, he advanced. She raised her eyes; those hazel eyes, beaming: with graciousness, met his own; and though they sparkled with pleasure, and though she greeted him with the kindliest attention, there was something in her manner that chilled him to the heart. She was easy and dignified, and, though vivaciously courteous, she seemed studiously calm. Scarcely had the first compliments of meeting passed between them before she acquainted him with the gentleman beside her; and, though this was a necessary politeness, Sutherland foolishly deemed that, under the existing circumstances, this ceremony should have been forgotten, or at least for a little while postponed. Another circumstance also contributed to strengthen his unfounded suspicion; she had, previous to his arrival, engaged herself for every quadrille that she would remain to dance, and though she acknowledged this with pain, he had not the generosity to appreciate her motives, nor the magnanimity to forgive them. Jealousy had at that moment made him what he would have blushed to have thought himself before—a selfish man. The music broke forth, the quadrille began, and Captain Sutherland turned away disappointed and miserable. Our hero had not perceived that he was an object of general attention, so wrapped up was he in communion with his own thoughts; and the bright glances,' the sweet smiles, and the whispered inquiries that followed his appearance, were all lost to him. “I wonder who it is?” ejaculated Miss Araminta Lovesick. “Cousin Harvey, do ascertain something about him, for I am absolutely expiring with curiosity.” “Beloved fair one,” replied the beau,~ “if you can possibly protract your demise for a few minutes, I think that I shall be enabled to prevent a catastrophe that would, in all probability, bathe the world in tears of unutterable woe.” Mr. Hervey Fitzbooby, for such was his aristocratic cognomen, departed on his mission extraordinary. “Ah! Mr. Hamilton, the very person of all the world that' I am most happy to meet,” he exclaimed. The statesman bowed stiffly, having an inveterate antipathy to all coxcombs. “Pray tell me, my dear sir, who that young fellow is that accompanied you hither this evening.” “Fellow, Mr. Fitzbooby!” ejaculated Mr. Hamilton. “I believe, sir, that I have always been very select in the choice of companions. The person to whom you allude is Captain Sutherland of the United States navy—you have heard of him, no doubt.” “Captain Sutherland —the—deuce—it— is,” ejaculated the dandy, honoring our hero with some such a stare as a mouse would be supposed to bestow upon a Hon. “Minton, that’s Sutherland,” said Fitzbooby to an acquaintance as he hurried along, big with the important news. “Sutherland—what Sutherland?” “Why, Sutherland of the navy, to be sure.” “You jest, Fitz.” “Fact, by all that’s immaculate—Hamilton just informed me.” ‘Til ask Hamilton to present me,” thought the elegant and exclusive Theodore Minton, Esq. “Ah, Mr. Hamilton, glad to see you—well, sir?” “Very well, J thank you,” a pause—the dandy discomfited—the statesman unusually grave—dandy resolved to hazard a subterfuge, in consequence of discovering that he had involved himself In one of those little difficulties, classed under thehead of unpleasing situations. * sired me to give you his best wishes.”

sir—l esteem him. Mr. Minton, let me introduce Captain Sutherland of the navy.” “Captain Sutherland!” exclaimed the exquisite, putting on a look of pleased surprise, and thrusting forward his ungloved right hand. “Really, sir, I am proud of making the acquaintance of so distinguished a gentleman as Captain Sutherland.” Our hero bowed. “How long will you Remain in Washington, sir?” “Perhaps a month, perhaps longer; circumstances may lessen or increase my stay.” “Sir, I hope the latter. I shall be, very happy to show you some attention while you are with us.” Conversation was here interrupteel by the arrival of the host, who joined the party in company with Mrs. Amelia St Clair. “Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Hamilton, I cannot find words to express my disapprobation of your conduct, to be absent from me for a full .half hour, after swearing eternal constancy, eternal devotion.” “I pray you mercy, sweet madam,” replied the statesman, “impugn not my motives until you have heard my excuse. I have encountered obstacles of the most insuperable to the completion of my wishes. Allow me to present my particular friend, Captain Sutherland, with the request that you take him under your protection for the evening.” (To be continued.)