Cape Horn it is that takes the conceit out of fresh-water sailors, and steeps in a still salter brine the saltest. Woe betide the tyro; the fool-hardy, Heaven preserve!
Further streams of it ran in from fissures; and Vane's face grew grave as he plodded through the flood with a lamp in his hand. He spent an hour in the workings, asking Salter a question now and then, and afterward went back with him to one of the iron-roofed sheds, where he put on dry clothes and sat down to a meal.
"You are a gambler." "That's a fib." "You risk your heart, capturing another's." "My heart is gone," added Podge, blushing. "What's his name?" wrote Duff Salter. "That's telling." Again the voices of the two people in the front parlor broke on Podge's ear: "You must leave me, Mr. Van de Lear. You do not know the pain and wrong you are doing me." "Agnes, I came to say I loved you.
There's old Salter, rich as a Jew. She's smart enough to capture him and add all he has to all that was coming to Andrew Zane." Mr. Salter drew up his napkin and sneezed into it a soft articulation of "Jericho! Jericho!" "Cal, don't you think you have some chance there yet?" asked Knox Van de Lear. "I hoped you would have won Aggy long ago. It's a better show than I ever had.
Salter, the midshipman on whom the command devolved, continued the fight with determined bravery, and after a stout resistance, beat them off, chased them some distance out to sea, and subsequently regained the anchorage in safety.
You see, to effect that object would set me up at once with the church people. I'm told that a little objection to my prospects in the governor's church begins to break out. If I can marry Agnes Wilt, she will recover her position in Kensington, and make me more welcome in families. I don't mind telling you that I have been a little gay." "That's nothing," wrote Duff Salter smilingly.
I returned answer, that of all men living he deserved no courtesy from me, nor should have any. In this year 1660, I sued out my pardon under the Broad Seal of England, being so advised by good counsel, because there should be no obstruction; I passed as William Lilly, Citizen and Salter of London; it cost me thirteen pounds six shillings and eight pence.
Andrew Zane?" asked Duff Salter. "No," replied the late fugitive. "I have been hunted and slandered like a wolf. I will give no evidence in Kensington, where I have been so shamefully treated. Let me be sent to a higher court, and there I will speak." "Alas!" Duff Salter said, with grave emphasis, "it is you father's old and obstinate spirit which is speaking.
Salter, if that was only all I had to trouble me! Oh, sir, work is occupation, but work harassed with care for others becomes unreal. I cannot sleep, thinking for Agnes. I cannot teach, my head throbs so. That river, so cold and impure, going along by the wharves, seems to suck and plash all day in my ears, as we see and hear it now.
Mean time Andrew Zane was in a mystic condition uncertain of purpose, serious, and studious, and he called one night at the Treaty tavern to see Duff Salter. Duff had gone, however, up the Tacony, and in a listless way Andrew sauntered over to the little monument erected on the alleged site of the Indian treaty.