The stage stopped, however, in a few minutes at the door of a handsome
house in the town, and took a gentleman and lady in. These new
passengers took places on the back seat, with Mary Williams.
This company rode in perfect silence for some time. Forester took
out a book and began to read. The gentleman on the back seat went to
sleep. Mary Williams and Marco looked out at the windows, watching the
changing scenery. The sailor rode in silence; moving his lips now and
then, as if he were talking to himself, but taking no notice of any
of the company. The coach stopped at the villages which they
passed through, to exchange the mail, and sometimes to take in new
passengers. In the course of these changes Marco got his place shifted
to the forward seat by the side of the sailor, and he gradually got
into conversation with him. Marco introduced the conversation, by
asking the sailor if he knew how far it was to Montpelier.
"No," said the sailor, "I don't keep any reckoning, but I wish we were
there."
"Why?" asked Marco.
"O, I expect the old cart will capsize somewhere among these
mountains, and break our necks for us."
Marco had observed, all the morning, that when the coach canted to
one side or the other, on account of the unevenness of the road, the
sailor always started and looked anxious, as if afraid it was going to
be upset. He wondered that a man who had been apparently accustomed
to the terrible dangers of the seas, should be alarmed at the gentle
oscillations of a stage-coach.
"Are you afraid that we shall upset?" asked Marco.
"Yes," said the sailor, "over some of these precipices and mountains;
and then there'll be an end of us."
The sailor said this in an easy and careless manner, as if, after all,
he was not much concerned about the danger. Still, Marco was surprised
that he should fear it at all. He was not aware how much the fears
which people feel, are occasioned by the mere novelty of the danger
which they incur. A stage-driver, who is calm and composed on his box,
in a dark night, and upon dangerous roads, will be alarmed by the
careening of a ship under a gentle breeze at sea, - while the sailor
who laughs at a gale of wind on the ocean, is afraid to ride in a
carriage on land.
"An't you a sailor?" asked Marco.
"Yes," replied his companion.
"I shouldn't think that a man that had been used to the sea, would be
afraid of upsetting in a coach."
"I'm not a _man_" said the sailor.
"What are you?" said Marco.
"I'm a boy. I'm only nineteen years old; though I'm going to be rated
seaman next voyage."
"Have you just got back from a voyage?" asked Marco.
