“Pourtant, Mam’selle like de vivacite; Monsieur le Patroon be nevair trop vif.”

“The more likely to be sure—­Hist, I hear a footstep.  We are followed—­chased, perhaps, I should say, to speak in the language of these sea-gentry.  Now is the time to show this Captain Ludlow, how a Frenchman can wind him round his finger, on terra-firma.  Loiter in the rear, and draw our navigator on a wrong course.  When he has run into a fog, come yourself, with all speed, to the oak on the bluff.  There we shall await you.”

Flattered by this confidence, and really persuaded that he was furthering the happiness of her he served, the old valet nodded, in reply to the Alderman’s wink and chuckle, and immediately relaxed his speed.  The former pushed ahead; and, in a minute, he and those who followed had turned short to the left, and were out of sight.

Though faithfully and even affectionately attached to Alida, her servant had many of the qualifications of an European domestic.  Trained in all the ruses of his profession, he was of that school which believes civilization is to be measured by artifice; and success lost some of its value, when it had been effected by the vulgar machinery of truth and common sense.  No wonder then the retainer entered into the views of the Alderman, with more than a usual relish for the duty.  He heard the cracking of the dried twigs beneath the footstep of him who followed; and in order that there might be no chance of missing the desired interview, the valet began to hum a French air, in so loud a key, as to be certain the sounds would reach any ear that was nigh.  The twigs snapped more rapidly, the footsteps seemed nearer, and then the hero of the India-shawl sprang to the side of the expecting Francois.

The disappointment seemed mutual, and on the part of the domestic it entirely disconcerted all his pre-arranged schemes for misleading the commander of the Coquette.  Not so with the bold mariner.  So far from his self-possession being disturbed, it would have been no easy matter to restrain his audacity ever in situations far more trying than any in which he has yet been presented to the reader.

“What cheer, in thy woodland cruise, Monsieur Broad-Pennant?” he said, with infinite coolness, the instant his steady glance had ascertained they were alone.  “This is safer navigation for an officer of thy draught of water, than running about the bay, in a periagua.  What may be the longitude, and where-a-way did you part company from the consorts?”

“Sair, I valk in de vood for de plaisir, and I go on de bay for de—­parbleu, non! ’tis to follow ma jeune maitresse I go on de bay; and, sair, I wish dey who do love de bay and de sea, would not come into de vood, du tout.”

“Well spoken, and with ample spirit;—­what, a student too! one in a wood should glean something from his labors.  Is it the art of furling a main cue, that is taught in this pretty volume?”