Chapter 12

"Good: Speak to the mariners: Fall to't yarely, or we run ourselves
aground."--_Tempest._

A good deal of the day had been wasted during the time occupied by the
scenes just related. The breeze had come in steady, but far from fresh. So
soon, however, as Wilder found himself left without the molestation of
idlers from the shore, and the busy interposition of the consignee, he
cast his eyes about him, with the intention of immediately submitting the
ship to its power. Sending for the pilot, he communicated his
determination, and withdrew himself to a part of the deck whence he might
take a proper survey of the materials of his new command, and where he
might reflect on the unexpected and extraordinary situation in which he
found himself.

The "Royal Caroline" was not entirely without pretensions to the lofty
name she bore. She was a vessel of that happy size in which comfort and
convenience had been equally consulted. The letter of the Rover affirmed
she had a reputation for her speed; and her young and intelligent
Commander saw, with great inward satisfaction, that she was not destitute
of the means of enabling him to exhibit all her finest properties. A
healthy, active, and skilful crew, justly proportioned spars, little
top-hamper, and an excellent trim, with a superabundance of light sails,
offered all the advantages his experience could suggest. His eye lighted,
as it glanced rapidly over these several particulars of his command, and
his lips moved like those of a man who uttered an inward self-gratulation,
or who indulged in some vaunt, that propriety suggested should go no
farther than his own thoughts.

By this time, the crew, under the orders of the pilot, were assembled at
the windlass, and had commenced heaving-in upon the cable. The labour was
of a nature to exhibit their individual powers, as well as their
collective force, to the greatest advantage. Their motion was
simultaneous, quick, and full of muscle. The cry was clear and cheerful.
As if to feel his influence, our adventurer lifted his own voice, amid the
song of the mariners, in one of those sudden and inspiriting calls with
which a sea officer is wont to encourage his people. His utterance was
deep, animated, and full of authority. The seamen started like mettled
coursers when they first hear the signal, each man casting a glance behind
him, as though he would scan the qualities of his new superior Wilder
smiled, like one satisfied with his success; and, turning to pace the
quarter-deck, he found himself once more confronted by the calm,
considerate but certainly astonished eye of Mrs Wyllys.

"After the opinions you were pleased to express of this vessel," said the
lady, in a manner of the