Roland Cashel Volume I Part 58

said Cashel, as he fastened his boat-cloak around Lady Kilgoff's throat, after several vain efforts to induce her to go below.

"If you only prevent my Lord from scolding, I shall enjoy it immensely,"

said she, in a half whisper.

"I trust, Lady Kilgoff," said his Lords.h.i.+p, approaching, and steadying himself by the bulwarks, "that this night'a experience will induce you to distrust your own judgment when in opposition to mine. I foresaw the whole of it. It is now blowing a fierce gale--"

"Not a bit of it, my Lord," interposed the pilot, bluntly; "but it will blow great guns 'fore daybreak, or I 'm mistaken."

"And where shall we be then?" asked my Lord, querulously.

"Rayther hard to tell," said the pilot, laughing. "If she be as good a sea-boat as they say, and that we don't carry away any of our spars, we may run for Cove. I take it--"

"For Cove! Gracious mercy! and if she be not as good a vessel as it is said she is, sir, what then, pray?"

The pilot made no reply, but gave orders to set the jib, as she was laboring too much by the head.

The wind increased, and with it the sea, which, dividing at the bow, fell in great cataracts over the vessel, sweeping along the entire deck at every plunge she gave.

"I wish she were a little deeper in the water," whispered Sickleton to Cashel. "We have n't within fifteen tons of our ballast on board. But she 's a sweet craft, ain't she? Keep her, there--steady, man."

"We could n't stand round in stays, and bear up for the harbor?"

asked Cashel, on whom Lord Kilgoff's face of misery had made a strong impression.

"Impossible! At least the pilot, who knows this coast well, says there is a sh.o.r.e current here runs eight knots."

"What shall we do with him? He 'll scarce live through the night."

"Let us get him down below, and, once snug in a berth, he 'll fall asleep, and forget everything."

Cashel shook his head doubtfully, but determined to try the plan at all hazards.

"Would my Lord be persuaded to lie down, do you think?" said Roland, approaching Lady Kilgoff, who, enveloped in the folds of the heavy boat-cloak, sat calm and collected near the wheel.

"Is there danger?" asked she, hurriedly.

"Not the least; but he seems so ill, and every sea rushes-over him as he stands."

"You should go down, my dear Lord," said she, addressing him; "Mr.

Cashel is afraid you 'll catch cold here?"

"Ah, is he indeed?" said Lord Kilgoff, in a snappish asperity. "He is too good to bestow a thought upon me."

"I am only anxious, my Lord, that you should n't suffer from your complaisance so unhappily rewarded."

"Very kind, exceedingly kind, sir. It is, as you say, most unhappy--a perfect storm, a hurricane. Gracious mercy! what's that?"

This exclamation was caused by a loud smash, like the report of a cannon-shot, and at the same moment the taper topmast fell cras.h.i.+ng down, with all its cordage clattering round it. The confusion of the accident, the shouting of voices, the thundering splash of the sea, as, the peak having fallen, the craft had lost the steadying influence of the mainsail, all seemed to threaten immediate danger. Cashel was about to spring forward and a.s.sist in cutting away the entangled rigging, when he felt his hand firmly grasped by another, whose taper fingers left no doubt to whom it belonged.

"Don't be alarmed--it is nothing," whispered he encouragingly; "the mishap is repaired in a second."

"You 'll not leave me," said she, in a low tone, which thrilled through every fibre of his heart. He pressed her hand more closely, and tried, but in vain, to catch a glimpse at her face.

Meanwhile the disordered rigging had been repaired, and two men under Sickleton's direction, lifting the drooping and scarce conscious peer from the deck, carried him down below.

If the old instincts of Roland Cashel's sailor life would have rendered the scene interesting to him, watching as he did the way his craft "behaved," and marking well the fine qualities she possessed as a sea-boat, there was another and far more intense feeling then occupying him as he stood close beside that swathed and m.u.f.fled figure, who, pale and silent, marked by some gesture, from time to time, her dependence upon him. To Roland, the rattle of the gale, the hissing sea, the strained and creaking cordage, all, not only brought back old memories of his once life, but effectually seemed to dispel the colder mood of mind which admixture with the world of fas.h.i.+on had impressed upon him.

He was again, if not in reality, in heart and spirit, the bold buccaneer that walked the Western seas, bursting with life, and eager for adventure. Every plunge that sent the bowsprit down, every squall that bent the taper mast, and laid the vessel half-seas under, inspirited and excited him, not the less that the wild storm called forth every form of encouragement to her, who vibrated between actual terror and a strange sense of delight.

Roland lay at her feet, partly as a barrier against the surging water that, breaking over the bow, swept the entire deck, partly that he might mark those beauteous features, on which the binnacle light occasionally cast its glare.

"It is fine," murmured she, in a low, soft voice, "and I almost feel as if my own terrors should serve to heighten the sense of ecstasy. I tremble while I delight in it."

There was an expression of intense excitement in her eyes as she spoke, and her pale features for an instant flushed, as Roland's look met hers.

"How I glory in your words," cried he, wild with enthusiasm; "I feel like one who suddenly awakes to life out of some long and dreary sleep,--rather this is the sleep, this is itself the vision in which I lie, here, beneath your smile, while we are borne onward through the hissing foam. Oh, would it but last--would that this dark and starless night could be for years, and that we might thus cleave the black waters on and on!"

"And whither to?" asked she, in a whisper scarcely breathed.

"Whither to?" echoed he; "what matters it, while we journey thus? The sun-tipped icebergs of the North Sea, or the rosy mountains of the Spice Island; the balmy sh.o.r.es of Quito, or the bleak coast of Labrador--all are alike to me."

"A large vessel under the lee!" sang out a voice from the bow, and the cry was repeated still louder, while the pilot shouted, "Show a light at the mast-head; put your helm hard up!" The double command was scarce obeyed, when a huge black ma.s.s heaved past them, her great yards almost seeming to grate the cordage. The looming size of the immense object that towered overhead, and the death-like stillness of the yacht's crew till the danger was past, thrilled with a cold terror through her, and instinctively she grasped Roland's hand more closely. The gale had now become furious, and as the light spars were barely able to sustain even the little canvas spread, the sea swept over the vessel as she lay storm-tossed and scarce navigable. The hatches were fastened down, the boats strongly secured, and every precaution of seamans.h.i.+p adopted; and so long as these were in performance, and a certain activity and bustle prevailed, so long did Lady Kilgoff's courage appear to support her; but when all was done, and the men resumed their places in watchful silence, and her mind was left to the contemplation of the raging hurricane alone, she seemed to sink, and, with a faint, low sigh, glided from the seat and fell fainting to the deck.

"You cannot take her below," said Sickleton, as Cashel, raising her in his arms, was about to carry her to the cabin; "we dare not open the hatches. See, there it comes again!" and, as he spoke, a great wave broke over the vessel's quarter and fell in torrents over the deck, was.h.i.+ng, as it receded, several loose spars overboard. By the aid of coats and cloaks innumerable, Cashel at last succeeded in enveloping the fair form beside him, and supporting her head upon his arm as he sat, he saw, to his unspeakable delight, that she soon dropped into a calm sleep.

"This is a disastrous bit of pleasuring," said Sickleton, as he stood holding on by one of the braces; "who could have supposed such a gale was brewing?"

"Well, well," replied Cashel, "if it comes no worse--"

"If it does, we can't stand through it, that's all," said the lieutenant, dryly. "The old pilot says we shall have to make a tack to keep clear of the Hook; but what boat can sail on a wind with a storm-jib and three-reefed topsail?"

"She behaves n.o.bly," said Roland, as he gazed at the sleeping form, to guard which seemed all his care.

Sickleton mistook the remark, and said, "Ay, that I knew she would; but the sea is tremendous for a small craft, and see how close we have the land under our lee--that black ma.s.s yonder."

"I 'd give all I own in the world that she were safe on sh.o.r.e," murmured Cashel, not heeding the other's observation; "I cannot forgive myself for having induced her to venture out."

The lieutenant made no reply, but peered for a few seconds through the skylight of the cabin. "My Lord is lying like a dead man," said he; "fright and sea-sickness together have nearly done for him, and yet it was only two hours back he thought he 'd make a good figure at the Admiralty. There," continued he, "day is breaking yonder; we shall soon know our fate; if the gale freshens after sunrise, it is all up with us."

"Run the craft in sh.o.r.e and I 'll engage to save her," said Cashel, eagerly. "I'm a strong swimmer in surf; I rescued a Malabar girl once, and in a sea nearly as heavy as this."

Sickleton smiled incredulously, and turned away.

"It is freshening, by Jove!" said he, as a squall struck the vessel, and laid her almost on her beam ends, while every plank s.h.i.+vered as though she were rending in pieces.

"It's coming stronger, sir," said the pilot, as he shook the sea from his rough coat and bent his gaze steadfastly towards the east; "I 'd rather not see that red sunrise. Keep her away, man, keep her away!"

"Shall we try it?" muttered Sickleton, to some whispered observations of the other.

"We may as well," rejoined the pilot; "she 'll never hold steerage way with her present canvas, and if she won't bear the mainsail we must go on sh.o.r.e, and no help for it."