" 'Sheart, what a marvelous small world!" Ebenezer cried. "And how pleased I am to find he sets such store by poetry. But prithee what work was't in this connection, that warranted such concession on his part?"
"He enquired of me, whether I knew the poet Ebenezer Cooke? My heart leaped, for I'd had no word of you or Anna these seven years, but I answered merely I had heard mention of a poet by that name. Then he told me of your visit and proposal, and his commission, and said I should accompany you to Maryland — for that you'd ne'er before been out of England — and act both as your guide and your protector. I leave it to you to imagine with what readiness I took on the task, and straightway sought you out!"
Now the earlier portions of this long narrative had elicited from Ebenezer such a number of ah's, marry's, 'sheart's, and b'm'faith's that he had come during this last to sit for the most part wordlessly, mouth agape and brows a-pucker in a sort of permanent i'God! as one amazement tripped on another's heels. At the end he was moved enough to embrace Burlingame unashamedly — and had, he found, to add bad breath to the host of alterations worked on his friend by this seven-year adventure: it was no doubt a product of the teeth gone carious.
"Ah God," he cried, "if Anna but knew all you've told me! Wherefore this role as Peter Sayer, Henry? Why did you not at least reveal yourself in London ere we left, that she might share my joy at finding you?"
Burlingame sighed, and after a moment replied, "I am wont to go by names other than my own, either borrowed or invented, for sundry reasons stemming from my work. 'Twould do no good for Coode to know my name nor e'en that I exist. What's more, I can confound him and his agents: I posed as Sayer in Bragg's, for instance, and forged his name, merely because Coode thinks the man's in Plymouth with the fleet. In like manner I've pretended to be both friends and enemies of Baltimore, to advance his cause. Once, I shall confess, that time on Perry Browne's ship Bailey, I posed as Coode himself to the poor dolt Ben Ricaud, to intercept those letters. The truth is, Eben, no man save Richard Hill, Lord Baltimore, and yourself hath known my name since 1687, when first I commenced to play the game of governments; and the game itself hath made such changes in me, that none who knew me erst would know me now, nor do I mean them to. 'Tis better they think me lost."
"Yet surely Anna — "
" 'Tis but thy first enquiry I've replied to," Burlingame interrupted, raising his forefinger. "For the second, do not forget that many are bound from London for the fleet — Coode's men as well as ours, and haply Coode himself. 'Twould have been foolish, even perilous, to shed my mask in that place. Moreover, there was no time: I scarce caught up with you ere you left, and mark how long I've been discovering myself to you. The fleet had sailed without us."
"Aye, that's true," Ebenezer admitted.
"What's more" — Burlingame laughed — "I'd not yet made my own mind up, whether 'twere wise e'en you should know the truth."
"What! Think you I'd e'er betray thy trust? And could you thus callously deprive me of my only friend? You injure me!"
"As to the first, 'twas just to answer it I posed as Sayer and queried you — the years change any man. Ben Bragg had said thou'rt but an opportunist; nor was your servant more persuaded of your motive, for all he admired you. Again, how could I know your sentiments towards Burlingame? The tale you told to Peter Sayer was your bond; when I had heard it, I revealed myself at once, but had you sung a different tune, 'tis Peter Sayer had been your guide, not Burlingame."
"Enough. I am convinced and cannot tell my joy. Yet your relation shames me for my tearfulness and sloth, as doth your wisdom my poor talent. Thou'rt a Virgil worth a better Dante."
"Oh la," Burlingame scoffed, "you've wit enough, and ear. Besides, the Province is no Hell or Purgatorio, but just a piece o' the great world like England — with the difference, haply, that the soil is vast and new where the sot-weed hath not drained it. What's more, the reins and checks are few and weak; good plants and weeds alike grow tall. Do but recall, if the people there seem strange and rough: a man content with Europe scarce would cross the ocean. The plain fact is, the greatest part are castaways from Europe, or the sons of castaways: rebels, failures, jailbirds and adventurers. Cast such seed on such soil, 'twere fond to seek a crop of dons and courtiers!"
"Yet you speak as one who loves the place," said Ebenezer, "and that alone, for me, is warrant I shall too."
Burlingame shrugged. "Haply so, haply no. There is a freedom there that's both a blessing and a curse. 'Tis more than just political and religious liberty — they come and go from one year to the next. 'Tis philosophic liberty I speak of, that comes from want of history. It makes every man an orphan like myself, that freedom, and can as well demoralize as elevate. But no more: I see the masts and spires of Plymouth yonder. You'll know the Province soon enough and how it strikes you!"
Even as Burlingame spoke the smell of the sea blew into the carriage, stirring Ebenezer to the depths of his being, and when a short while later he saw it for the first time, spread out before him to the far horizon, he shivered twice or thrice all over and came near to passing water.
8: The Laureate Indites a Quatrain and Fouls His Breeches
"Remember," Burlingame said as the carriage rolled into Plymouth, "I am not Henry Burlingame, nor Peter Sayer either, for the real Sayer's somewhere on the fleet. You'd best not give me any name at all, I think, till I see how lays the land."
Accordingly, as soon as their chests and trunks were put down they inquired after the Poseidon at the wharves and were told it had already joined the fleet.
"What!" cried Ebenezer. "Then we have missed it after all!"
"Nay," Burlingame smiled, " 'tis not unusual. The fleet assembles yonder in the Downs off The Lizard; you can see't from here on a clear day."
Inquiring further he found a shallop doing ferry-service between the Downs and the harbor, and arranged for passage aboard it in the afternoon.
"We'd as well take one last meal ashore," he explained to Ebenezer. "Moreover I must change clothing, for I've resolved to pose as your servant — What was his name?"
"Bertrand," Ebenezer murmured. "But must you be a servant?"
"Aye, or else invent an entire gentleman as your companion. As Bertrand I can pass unnoticed in your company and hear more news as well of your fellow travelers."
So saying he led the way across the street from the wharves to a tavern advertising itself by two capital letter Cs, face to face and interlocking, the figure surmounted by a three-lobed crown.
"Here's the King o' the Seas," said Burlingame. "I know it of old. 'Twas here I got my first wee clap, while still a hand on Captain Salmon's ship. A bony Welsh tart gave it me, that had made the best of my inexperience to charge me a clean girl's price, and by the time the fraud came clear I was many a day's sail from Plymouth, bound for Lisbon. The clap soon left me, but I ne'er forgot the wench. When in Lisbon I found a vessel bound for Plymouth and made enquiries amongst the crew, till at length I hit upon a one-eyed Portugee that was like to perish of a miserable clap from Africa, beside which our English sort was but a fleabite. This frightful wight I gave my fine new quadrant to, that Captain Salmon had bought me to practice navigation with, on condition he share his clap with the Welsh whore at the King o' the Seas directly he made port. But no man e'er died of the food here."