As We Sweep Through The Deep Part 7

Was it a spirit?

If so, it was a very beautiful one. The face was very white in the moonbeams, the eyes very sad and dark, and darker still the wealth of waving hair that floated over the shoulders.

"Jack!"

Jack started now, and looked quickly round. Then a happy smile spread over his face as he arose and led his sister to a seat by his side.

"So like old, old times, Flora," he said.

"So like old, old times, Jack," said she.

He wrapped her knees in a great old Grant-tartan plaid.

"I knew you were still up, and that you were not happy, so I came to you. But, Jack--"

"Yes, dear."

"Smoke."

"May I?"

"You must."

"Still more like olden times, Flora."

Jack lit up his pipe, and then he took his sister's hand.

"I'm glad," he said, "that I never had a brother."

"And I," she said, "am happy I never had a sister."

"We are all in all to each other, are we not, Flo?"

"All in all, Jack; especially _now_."

"Ah yes; now that I have lost Gerty. Ah, siss! you nor any one else in the wide world can ever tell how dearly I loved, and still love, that faithless girl."

"And she, Jack, will break her heart that she cannot marry you. That is what I came to tell you, Hush, Jack, hus.h.!.+ I know all you would say; but you do not understand women, and least of all do you understand Gerty. _I_ do, Jack; yes, I do."

"Sissy," said the young man earnestly, "the cruellest thing mortals can be guilty of is to arouse the dying to feeling again, when the bitterness of death is almost past. _You_ would not be so unkind. You did not come here to raise hopes in my heart that would be as certainly doomed to disappointment as that blooming flowers shall fade."

"No, Jack, no. I only came because I wanted to pour balm, not hope, into your bleeding heart. I came to tell you all Gerty Keane's story, that you may not think the very, very worst of her. Listen, Jack."

The young man sat in silence for quite a long time after his sister had finished the story of Gerty Keane, and of her fondness for her lonesome, friendless, and unlovable father; sat gazing out upon the moonlit landscape, but seeing nothing; sat while the nightingale's lilt, plaintive and low or mournfully sweet, bubbled tremulously from the grove, but hearing nothing. And in the shadow of the old-fas.h.i.+oned arm-chair snuggled Flora, her eyes resting lovingly, wistfully on her brother's sad but handsome face.

At last he sighed and turned towards her. "Flora," he said, "I'm going to try to forgive Gerty. I'm going to live in hope I one day may be able to forgive. Just tell her from me I wish her that happiness with another which fate has decreed it shall never be my joy to impart. Tell her--but there! no more, Flora, no more."

"Spoken like my own brother; spoken like a true and brave Mackenzie.

Kiss me, Jack. I'm glad I came."

He held her hand a moment there, the moonbeams s.h.i.+ning on both. "But, Flora," he said, "you too have a little story."

"Ye--es, Jack."

Her head drooped like a lily.

"And, siss, it--is connected with--don't tremble so, Flora--with Tom?"

The moonbeams shone on Jack alone now; his sister had stolen into the shadow to hide her blushes.

"Good-night again," she whispered, and so went gliding away like a beautiful ghost.

CHAPTER VIII.

ON BOARD THE SAUCY "TONNERAIRE."

"O'er the wide wave-swelling ocean, Tossed aloft or humbled low-- As to fear 'tis all a notion-- When duty calls we're bound to go."--DIBDIN.

The _Tonneraire_ lay at anchor just off the Hoe in Plymouth Sound, as pretty a craft as any sailor need care to look at. Plymouth was an amphibious sort of a place even in those days; and there was not a landsman who had ever been in blue water that, having once caught sight of the saucy _Tonneraire_, did not stop to stare at and admire her as he crossed the Hoe. Some, indeed, even sat quietly down and lighted up their pipes, the better to consider the bonnie s.h.i.+p. Long and low and dark was she, and though a frigate, the p.o.o.p was not high enough to interfere with her taking lines of beauty. She carried splendid spars, and from their tapering height it was evident she was built either to fight or to chase a flying Frenchman. But her maintop-gallant masts were at present below, for the s.h.i.+p was not quite ready for sea. She seemed impatient enough, however, to get away. The wind blew pretty high, right in off the Channel, and the frigate jerked and tugged at her anchors like a hound on leash that longs to be loose and away scouring the plains in search of game. Everything on board was taut and trim and neat: not a yard out of the square, not a rope out of place, the decks as white as old ivory, the polished woodwork glittering like gla.s.s, the bra.s.s all gold apparently, the guns like ebony, and the very lanyards pipeclayed till they looked like coils of driven snow.

Post-Captain Mackenzie was walking to and fro on the p.o.o.p-deck all alone, but casting many an anxious glance sh.o.r.ewards, or upwards at the evening sun that soon would sink over the beautiful wooded Cornish hills.

"There's a boat coming out yonder now, sir," said the signalman.

"Ah! is there, Wilson? Well, pray Heaven it may be the first lieutenant, and that he may have had luck."

Twenty minutes afterwards, Tom Fairlie, lieutenant in his Majesty's navy, but acting-commander under Captain Mackenzie, was alongside in the first cutter. He was not alone, for several other officers were with him, and among them our old friend M'Hearty. Jack welcomed the latter, figuratively speaking, with open arms, then went to his private cabin, accompanied by Tom, who had been on sh.o.r.e on duty since early morning.

"Sit down, Tom. Now we're off the quarter-deck there is no need for ceremony. You look tired and starved. Help yourself to wine and biscuits there before you say a single word."

Tom poured out a gla.s.s, smiling as he did so.

"Ah!" cried Jack, "I know you have good news."

"Ay, Jack, lots of it. I've been everywhere and I've done everything, and I've had good luck in the whole."

"Wait a moment, Tom.--Steward!"

"Ay, ay, sir."

"I'm engaged for the next half-hour unless any one desires to see me on duty.--Now, Tom, I shall light my pipe. Follow my example. It wants an hour to dinner, and you are my guest to-night. No one else save our two selves and M'Hearty, I believe."

"Well, Jack," said Tom Fairlie, after he had smoked in silence for a few moments, "first I went to the port-admiral's office and saw Secretary Byng. He knows everything. Told me your father was gazetted, and would sail with his command in a few months' time."