The sailors' cordial attitude prevailed through the following fortnight, as did the poet's remarkable tranquility. This latter, at least, he came increasingly to understand: the second of his euphoric visions had come back to him, and he saw in it, with a quiet thrill, a mystic affirmation of his calling, such as those once vouchsafed to the saints. What was this ship, after all, but the Ship of Destiny, from which in retribution for his doubts he had been cast? What was the ocean but a Font of Rededication, a moral bath to cleanse him of despair and restore him to the Ship? The message was unequivocal even without the additional, almost frightening miracle that he had unwittingly predicted it! Hence Burlingame's presence on the dream ship, for he it was, in the King o' the Seas (that is to say, Poseidon!) who had scoffed at the third line of Ebenezer's quatrain —
Let Ocean roar his damn'dest Gale:
Our Planks shan't leak; our Masts shan't fail;
With great Poseidon by our Side
He seemeth neither wild nor wide.
— which, he claimed, placed the poet in the ocean. Ebenezer thought warmly of his friend and teacher, who for all he knew might long since have been found out by Slye and Scurry and sent to a watery grave. Henry had been skeptical of the laureateship, no doubt about it.
"Would God I had him here, to tell this wonder to!" Since the momentous sighting of Corvo in the Azores, the Poseidon had been sailing a due westerly course along the thirty-seventh parallel of latitude, which if all went well would lead her straight to the Virginia Capes. The lengthy storm had scattered the fleet to the four winds, so that not another sail was visible on the horizon; but Captain Meech looked to overhaul the flagship any day, which he reckoned to be ahead of them. Although some time had been lost in making repairs, when Chips completed a masterful scarfing of the damaged spar the Poseidon bowled along for days on end in a whole-sail breeze. They were five weeks out of Plymouth; May was upon them, and landfall again on everybody's lips.
During this period Ebenezer seldom left the fo'c'sle: for one thing, it took him a while to regain his strength; for another, he had no desire to see his former messmates again, and anyway his musings kept him pleasantly occupied. Bertrand, of course, he could not avoid some contact with, but their meetings were brief and uncommunicative — the valet was uncertain of his position, and Ebenezer, besides enjoying the man's discomfort, had nothing to say to him. Though he could entertain no more illusions about the ship's magnificence, his admiration for the sailors had increased tenfold. His despair was gone completely: with tranquil joy he watched the dolphins roll along the freeboard and in the wake and, caught up in the general anticipation, he sharpened his quills, got out the volumes of Milton and Samuel Butler that he used as references, and hatched the following couplets to describe the great event that lay ahead: his first glimpse of Maryland.
Belike Ulysses, wand'ring West
From Ilions Sack, in Tatters drest,
And weary'd of his ten-year Roam
O'er wat'ry Wilds of desart Foam,
Beholding Ithaca at last
And seeing all his Hardship past,
Did swear 'twas Heav'ns own Shore he'd rais'd,
So lovely seem'd it as he gaz'd,
Despite its Rocks and Fearsome Coast.
How Heav'nlier, then, this Land I boast,
Whose golden Sands and verdant Trees
And Harbours snug, design'd to ease
The Sailors Burthen, greet the Eye
With naught save Loveliness! Nay, try
As best it might, no Poets Song,
Be't e'er so sweet or ne'er so long,
Could tell the Whole of MARYLANDS Charms,
When from the Oceans boundless Harms
The Trav'ler comes unscath'd at last,
And from his Vessels loftiest mast
He first beholds her Beauty!
To which, at the foot of the ledger-sheet, he duly appended E.C., Gent, Pt & Lt of Md, and regarded the whole with a satisfaction such as he had not felt since the night of Joan Toast's fateful visit. He was impatient to have done with disguises and assume his true position in the Province: his physical condition was better than it had been before the accident, and his spirits could scarcely have been improved upon. After considering the merits of several plans, he resolved at length to end the fraud by announcing his identity and reciting these latest verses as soon as the Poseidon made a landfalclass="underline" clearly there was no plot against the Laureate aboard ship, and the passengers deserved to know the truth about him and Bertrand.
It was not his fortune, however, to carry out this pleasant scheme. With their journey's end so near at hand, passengers and crew alike grew daily more festive, and though the sailors were officially forbidden to drink aboard ship, the fo'c'sle no less than the main cabin became the scene of nightly revels. The crew's hospitality to Ebenezer waxed proportionately: he had no money to invest in their card-games, but he readily shared their rum and cordiality.
One evening when all had drunk a fair amount of liquor, old Ned, whose amiable deportment had most surprised the Laureate, descended the companionway and announced to the company at large that he had just returned from an interview with Mister Ebenezer Cooke on the main deck. Ebenezer's ears pricked up and his cheeks burned, for the man's tone implied that he had been sent as some kind of spokesman for the group. The rest avoided looking at him.
"I told 'Squire Cooke how fairly we'd looked to's man," Ned continued, smiling unpleasantly at the poet. "I told him we'd fetched him from death's door and nursed him back to health again, and shared our bed and board without complaint. Then I asked him if't wouldn't please him to give us somewhat for our pains, seeing we're coming on to landfall — "
"What did he say?" a man asked. Ebenezer's features boiled about: he was disappointed to learn that their generosity had been at least partly venal, but at the same time he recognized his obligation to them and the legitimacy of their claim.
Ned leered at him. "The lying wretch pled poverty! Says he lost his last farthing when we sighted Corvo!"
" 'Tis all too true," Ebenezer declared, in the face of a general protest at Ned's announcement. "He is a profligate fellow and, not content to squander his own money hath wagered mine as well, which is why I could not join your games. But I swear you shall be paid for your kindness, since you set a price on't. Do but copy down your names for me, and I'll dispatch the sum the day I arrive at Malden."
"I'll wager ye will, and lose my money too!" Chips laughed. "A vow like that is lightly sworn!"
"Prithee let me explain — " Ebenezer made up his mind to reveal his identity then and there.