"Now, by all the whales in the sea," cried Barnstable, "but you are
merry out of season, young gentleman. It's quite bad enough to be
ordered to anchor in such a bay as this with a storm brewing before my
eyes, without landing to be laughed at by a stripling who has not
strength to carry a beard if he had one, when I ought to be getting an
offing for the safety of both body and soul. But I'll know more of you
and your jokes, if I take you into my own mess, and am giggled out of my
sleep for the rest of the cruise."
As the commander of the schooner concluded, he approached the stranger,
with an air of offering some violence, but the other shrank back from
his extended arm, and exclaimed, with a voice in which real terror had
gotten the better of mirth:
"Barnstable! dear Barnstable! would you harm me?"
The sailor recoiled several feet, at this unexpected appeal, and rubbing
his eyes, he threw the cap from his head, before he cried:
"What do I hear! and what do I see! There lies the Ariel--and yonder is
the frigate. Can this be Katherine Plowden!"
His doubts, if any doubts remained, were soon removed, for the stranger
sank on the bank at her side, in an attitude in which female bashfulness
was beautifully contrasted with her attire, and gave vent to her mirth
in an uncontrollable burst of merriment.
From that moment, all thoughts of his duty, and the pilot, or even of
the Ariel, appeared to be banished from the mind of the seaman, who
sprang to her side, and joined in her mirth, though he hardly knew why
or wherefore.
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