“That ship is navigating the heavens!” exclaimed Myndert!  “Thy grandmother was a sensible woman, Patroon; she was a cousin of my pious progenitor, and there is no knowing what two clever old ladies, in their time, may have heard and seen, when such sights as this are beheld in our own!”

“I am as little disposed as another, to put faith in incredible things,” gravely returned Oloff Van Staats; “and yet, if required to give my testimony, I should be reluctant to say, that yonder vessel is not floating in the heavens!”

“You might not give it to that effect, in safety;” said Ludlow.  “It is no other than a half-rigged brigantine, on a taut bowline, though she bears no great show of canvas.  Mr. Van Beverout, Her Majesty’s cruiser is about to put to sea.”

Myndert heard this declaration in visible dissatisfaction.  He spoke of the virtue of patience, and of the comforts of the solid ground; but when he found the intention of the Queen’s servant was not to be shaken, he reluctantly professed an intention of repeating the personal experiment of the preceding day.  Accordingly, within half an hour, the whole party were on the banks of the Shrewsbury, and about to embark in the barge of the Coquette.

“Adieu, Monsieur Francois;” said the Alderman nodding his head to the ancient valet, who stood with a disconsolate eye on the shore.  “Have a care of the movables in la Cour des Fees; we may have further use for them.”

“Mais, Monsieur Beevre, mon devoir, et, ma foi, suppose la mer was plus agreable, mon desir shall be to suivre Mam’selle Alide.  Jamais personne de la famille Barberie love de sea; mais, Monsieur, comment faire?  I shall die sur la mer de douleur; and I shall die d’ennui, to rester ici, bien sur!”

“Come then, faithful Francois,” said Ludlow.  “You shall follow your young mistress; and perhaps, on further trial, you may be disposed to think the lives of us seamen more tolerable than you had believed.”

After an eloquent expression of countenance, in which the secretly-amused though grave-looking boat’s-crew thought the old man was about to give a specimen of his powers of anticipation, the affectionate domestic entered the barge.  Ludlow felt for his distress, and encouraged him by a look of approbation.  The language of kindness does not always need a tongue; and the conscience of the valet smote him with the idea that he might have expressed himself too strongly, concerning a profession to which the other had devoted life and hopes.

“La mer, Monsieur le Capitaine,” he said, with an acknowledging reverence, “est un vaste theatre de la gloire.  Voila Messieurs de Tourville et Dougay Trouin; ce sont des hommes, vraiment remarquables! mais Monsieur, quant a toute la famille de Barberie, we have toujours un sentiment plus favorable pour la terre.”

“I wish your whimsical jade of a mistress, Master Francois, had found the same sentiment,” dryly observed Myndert:  “for let me tell you, this cruising about in a suspicious vessel is as little creditable to her judgment as—­cheer up, Patroon; the girl is only putting thy mettle to the trial, and the sea air will do no damage to her complexion or her pocket.  A little predilection for salt water must raise the girl in your estimation, Captain Ludlow!”