Israel Potter: His Fifty Years of Exile
Copyright© 2025 by Herman Melville
Chapter 17
THEY CALL AT THE EARL OF SELKIRK’S, AND AFTERWARDS FIGHT THE SHIP-OF-WAR DRAKE.
The Ranger now stood over the Solway Frith for the Scottish shore, and at noon on the same day, Paul, with twelve men, including two officers and Israel, landed on St. Mary’s Isle, one of the seats of the Earl of Selkirk.
In three consecutive days this elemental warrior either entered the harbors or landed on the shores of each of the Three Kingdoms.
The morning was fair and clear. St. Mary’s Isle lay shimmering in the sun. The light crust of snow had melted, revealing the tender grass and sweet buds of spring mantling the sides of the cliffs.
At once, upon advancing with his party towards the house, Paul augured ill for his project from the loneliness of the spot. No being was seen. But cocking his bonnet at a jaunty angle, he continued his way. Stationing the men silently round about the house, fallowed by Israel, he announced his presence at the porch.
A gray-headed domestic at length responded.
“Is the Earl within?”
“He is in Edinburgh, sir.”
“Ah—sure?—Is your lady within?”
“Yes, sir—who shall I say it is?”
“A gentleman who calls to pay his respects. Here, take my card.”
And he handed the man his name, as a private gentleman, superbly engraved at Paris, on gilded paper.
Israel tarried in the hall while the old servant led Paul into a parlor.
Presently the lady appeared.
“Charming Madame, I wish you a very good morning.”
“Who may it be, sir, that I have the happiness to see?” said the lady, censoriously drawing herself up at the too frank gallantry of the stranger.
“Madame, I sent you my card.”
“Which leaves me equally ignorant, sir,” said the lady, coldly, twirling the gilded pasteboard.
“A courier dispatched to Whitehaven, charming Madame, might bring you more particular tidings as to who has the honor of being your visitor.”
Not comprehending what this meant, and deeply displeased, if not vaguely alarmed, at the characteristic manner of Paul, the lady, not entirely unembarrassed, replied, that if the gentleman came to view the isle, he was at liberty so to do. She would retire and send him a guide.
“Countess of Selkirk,” said Paul, advancing a step, “I call to see the Earl. On business of urgent importance, I call.”
“The Earl is in Edinburgh,” uneasily responded the lady, again about to retire.
“Do you give me your honor as a lady that it is as you say?”
The lady looked at him in dubious resentment.
“Pardon, Madame, I would not lightly impugn a lady’s lightest word, but I surmised that, possibly, you might suspect the object of my call, in which case it would be the most excusable thing in the world for you to seek to shelter from my knowledge the presence of the Earl on the isle.”
“I do not dream what you mean by all this,” said the lady with a decided alarm, yet even in her panic courageously maintaining her dignity, as she retired, rather than retreated, nearer the door.
“Madame,” said Paul, hereupon waving his hand imploringly, and then tenderly playing with his bonnet with the golden band, while an expression poetically sad and sentimental stole over his tawny face; “it cannot be too poignantly lamented that, in the profession of arms, the officer of fine feelings and genuine sensibility should be sometimes necessitated to public actions which his own private heart cannot approve. This hard case is mine. The Earl, Madame, you say is absent. I believe those words. Far be it from my soul, enchantress, to ascribe a fault to syllables which have proceeded from so faultless a source.”
This probably he said in reference to the lady’s mouth, which was beautiful in the extreme.
He bowed very lowly, while the lady eyed him with conflicting and troubled emotions, but as yet all in darkness as to his ultimate meaning. But her more immediate alarm had subsided, seeing now that the sailor-like extravagance of Paul’s homage was entirely unaccompanied with any touch of intentional disrespect. Indeed, hyperbolical as were his phrases, his gestures and whole carriage were most heedfully deferential.
Paul continued: “The Earl, Madame, being absent, and he being the sole object of my call, you cannot labor under the least apprehension, when I now inform you, that I have the honor of being an officer in the American Navy, who, having stopped at this isle to secure the person of the Earl of Selkirk as a hostage for the American cause, am, by your assurances, turned away from that intent; pleased, even in disappointment, since that disappointment has served to prolong my interview with the noble lady before me, as well as to leave her domestic tranquillity unimpaired.”
“Can you really speak true?” said the lady in undismayed wonderment.
“Madame, through your window you will catch a little peep of the American colonial ship-of-war, Ranger, which I have the honor to command. With my best respects to your lord, and sincere regrets at not finding him at home, permit me to salute your ladyship’s hand and withdraw.”
But feigning not to notice this Parisian proposition, and artfully entrenching her hand, without seeming to do so, the lady, in a conciliatory tone, begged her visitor to partake of some refreshment ere he departed, at the same time thanking him for his great civility. But declining these hospitalities, Paul bowed thrice and quitted the room.
In the hall he encountered Israel, standing all agape before a Highland target of steel, with a claymore and foil crossed on top.
“Looks like a pewter platter and knife and fork, Captain Paul.”
“So they do, my lion; but come, curse it, the old cock has flown; fine hen, though, left in the nest; no use; we must away empty-handed.”
“Why, ain’t Mr. Selkirk in?” demanded Israel in roguish concern.
“Mr. Selkirk? Alexander Selkirk, you mean. No, lad, he’s not on the Isle of St. Mary’s; he’s away off, a hermit, on the Isle of Juan Fernandez—the more’s the pity; come.”
In the porch they encountered the two officers. Paul briefly informed them of the circumstances, saying, nothing remained but to depart forthwith.
“With nothing at all for our pains?” murmured the two officers.
“What, pray, would you have?”
“Some pillage, to be sure—plate.”
“Shame. I thought we were three gentlemen.”
“So are the English officers in America; but they help themselves to plate whenever they can get it from the private houses of the enemy.”
“Come, now, don’t be slanderous,” said Paul; “these officers you speak of are but one or two out of twenty, mere burglars and light-fingered gentry, using the king’s livery but as a disguise to their nefarious trade. The rest are men of honor.”
“Captain Paul Jones,” responded the two, “we have not come on this expedition in much expectation of regular pay; but we did rely upon honorable plunder.”
“Honorable plunder! That’s something new.”
But the officers were not to be turned aside. They were the most efficient in the ship. Seeing them resolute, Paul, for fear of incensing them, was at last, as a matter of policy, obliged to comply. For himself, however, he resolved to have nothing to do with the affair. Charging the officers not to allow the men to enter the house on any pretence, and that no search must be made, and nothing must be taken away, except what the lady should offer them upon making known their demand, he beckoned to Israel and retired indignantly towards the beach. Upon second thoughts, he dispatched Israel back, to enter the house with the officers, as joint receiver of the plate, he being, of course, the most reliable of the seamen.
The lady was not a little disconcerted on receiving the officers. With cool determination they made known their purpose. There was no escape. The lady retired. The butler came; and soon, several silver salvers, and other articles of value, were silently deposited in the parlor in the presence of the officers and Israel.
“Mister Butler,” said Israel, “let me go into the dairy and help to carry the milk-pans.”
But, scowling upon this rusticity, or roguishness—he knew not which—the butler, in high dudgeon at Israel’s republican familiarity, as well as black as a thundercloud with the general insult offered to an illustrious household by a party of armed thieves, as he viewed them, declined any assistance. In a quarter of an hour the officers left the house, carrying their booty.
At the porch they were met by a red-cheeked, spiteful-looking lass, who, with her brave lady’s compliments, added two child’s rattles of silver and coral to their load.
Now, one of the officers was a Frenchman, the other a Spaniard.
The Spaniard dashed his rattle indignantly to the ground. The Frenchman took his very pleasantly, and kissed it, saying to the girl that he would long preserve the coral, as a memento of her rosy cheeks.
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