Ronald Morton, or the Fire Ships Part 7

Over went her mainmast, her head fell off from the sea, on she flew amid showers of foam, and in another minute she was hid to view by the rocky island before them. In vain they hoped against hope to see her appear on the other side. Her fate was indeed sealed. There was only one spot where even in moderate weather a landing could be without difficulty effected on Ossa Skerry. Still Morton and his friend resolved to attempt it. There was not a moment to be lost, already, probably, numbers of the hapless crew were being swept to destruction. They hurried down the cliff, sprang on board the boat, and shoved off.

Morton steered: with rapid strokes they pulled down the remainder of the voe; even there heavy waves rolled in and showed the crew the sort of sea with which they would have to contend when they got outside. Few but Shetlanders would have attempted to face such a sea, and the finest of boats alone could have lived in it. They reached the mouth of the voe; their pa.s.sage through the mouth was the first danger they had to encounter; a huge sea came thundering in.

"Back off all," cried Morton; and instead of forcing the boat onward, she slowly receded before the wave, which broke in a loud crash directly before her, the foam flying over her bows and deluging her fore and aft.

"Now, lads, give way," shouted Morton again, and before the next sea broke, the boat had got into deep water. They now encountered the full force of the gale; and none but a boat admirably manned, as was theirs, could have made headway against it, nor could she have escaped being instantly swamped, unless steered with the greatest caution and judgment. Now she rose on the top of a sea surrounded with foam, now she plunged down into the trough, and those standing on the rocks, at the mouth of the voe, feared more than once that she had sunk for ever.

Again she rose on the side of the opposite sea; the summit was reached; but once more she disappeared beyond it. At times it seemed as if scarcely any way was made, but still the bold seamen persevered; the lives of some of their fellow-creatures depended on their exertions--how many it was impossible to say, till they had ascertained where the s.h.i.+p had gone on sh.o.r.e. They knew that in all probability in a few minutes, even should the s.h.i.+p hold together, numbers must be swept off from the decks.

Morton's object was to get sufficiently out to sea to ascertain the position of the s.h.i.+p. The rapid diminution of the strength of the wind enabled him to do this with greater ease than had at first appeared possible; still the sea came rolling in as fiercely as before, and rendered the greatest caution necessary to prevent the boat being swamped. At last they got sufficiently to the westward to look along the outer side of Ossa Skerry. No s.h.i.+p was to be seen. Had she foundered, or was it possible that in so short a time she had so completely gone to pieces that not a particle of the wreck was to be seen? If so, not a soul on board could have escaped.

"Poor girl!" thought Morton; "it will break the heart of Bertha Eswick to hear of it; and my wife, too--it will make her very sad."

"We will pull out a little further, Rolf," said Captain Maitland.

"There is a little bay, or bight, nearly at the south-east of the rock-- if the s.h.i.+p by chance drove in there we should not see her from hence."

"Give way, lads!" shouted Morton, with hope revived by his friend's remark.

In a short time they opened the little bay of which Captain Maitland spoke. There lay the s.h.i.+p almost broadside on with the sh.o.r.e, her stern apparently under an overhanging cliff, while her bow, over which the sea made a clean breach, seemed to hang on a rock, and was thus prevented from being driven further in. Her masts and bowsprit were gone by the board: and from the force with which the sea was breaking over her, it seemed scarcely possible that she could herself keep much longer together. An attempt to approach her from the seaside would have proved the destruction of the boat. The only chance of rendering a.s.sistance was to land on the east side of the island. Hitherto the boat's head had been kept directly towards the seas as they came rolling in. It was far more dangerous work crossing them as they had now to do, to reach the inner side of the island. Often Morton and his friend watched the foaming ma.s.ses of water, as they came roaring towards them, with no little anxiety; but by pulling round to face the larger ones, and by then rapidly giving way, the boat at length got under the lee of the islet. To obtain footing on the slippery rock was a work of considerable difficulty, and still greater was it to climb to the summit and to convey them the ropes and spars which they had brought with them.

Some of the men remained to take care of the boat, for that alone was not an easy task, as had she been carried away by the sea, the whole party might have been starved before a.s.sistance could have come to them.

The remainder proceeded, as rapidly as they could, across the island.

With more anxiety than they had often felt, Morton and the captain hurried towards the edge of the cliff. Before even reaching it the appearance which the foaming water presented, even some way from the sh.o.r.e, told them too plainly the destruction which had already occurred; while the fearful shrieks, which even through the roar of the angry waters came up from below, warned them that every instant fresh victims were being added to those who had already fallen a sacrifice to the tempest.

Among fragments of masts, and spars, and planks, and other parts of the s.h.i.+p, were seen the forms of numerous human beings, some yet struggling, but struggling in vain, for life; others floating helplessly among the pieces of wreck, or clinging to them with a convulsive clutch, while many, already lifeless, were tossed to and fro in the boiling caldron, happier than those who were seen every now and then, as they were swept off, to throw up their arms, and then, with a fearful shriek of despair, to sink from sight.

On gaining the edge of the cliff, Morton and Captain Mainland threw themselves on the ground and looked over. The fore part of the vessel had already been knocked to pieces. A few men still clung to part of the bulwarks in the waist; but the sea was making a clean breach over it, and one by one they were torn from their treacherous hold and carried off by the waves. The only part of the wreck which yet afforded a precarious shelter was the p.o.o.p. The mainmast, in falling, had been washed across it, and the end jamming against the cliff, it formed a breakwater, within which a group of people yet stood, almost paralysed with terror and despair, for the precipitous cliff above them afforded not the slightest prospect of escape, while the violent shaking of the wreck, and the rapid advances of the waves, showed them that in a few minutes even that uncertain foothold would be carried from beneath them.

Morton and his friend beckoned to their companions to bring on the ropes. It was the work of a few seconds to uncoil them and to make one end fast to the spars they had brought. These they fixed in the ground, two of them holding on at the same time to the upper part of the spars.

Not till all the preparations were made did Morton shout to those below to let them know that aid was at hand. In the centre of the group was a female form--that it was Hilda there could be little doubt. The rope was lowered with a pair of slings at the end of it. How anxiously did those both above and below watch its descent! The end dropped some way from the stern of the s.h.i.+p; it seemed a question whether it was within reach of those whose existence depended on clutching it. A seaman sprang towards it as it swung backwards and forwards in the gale, but he missed his aim, and fell headlong into the seething water, which soon silenced his death shriek. Another, an officer apparently, made the attempt; he had secured a line round his body, he clutched the rope and dragged it inboard. Even at that moment Spanish gallantry was maintained; no undue haste was shown by any to secure their own lives.

The first care of the men was to secure Hilda in the slings; this was speedily done, but it was soon seen that if she was hauled up by herself she would run great risk of being thrown against the side of the cliff and severely injured. The officer who had hauled in the rope accordingly secured himself to it, and made a sign to those above to hoist away. The fearful rocking of the s.h.i.+p made them do this with all the speed of which they were capable. At any moment the s.h.i.+p might go to pieces; Morton stood nearest the edge. At length the head of Pedro Alvarez appeared, and while with one arm he kept the end of the rope from das.h.i.+ng against the cliff, with the other he supported the almost inanimate form of Hilda Wardhill. She was speedily released from the rope, which was again lowered, while Captain Maitland and one of the men carried her to a hollow in the downs, which afforded some shelter from the wind. The brave lieutenant made signs that he was going to descend again, but Morton, who saw that it would be useless, refused to allow him. The rope was lowered; "Haul away!" he shouted, and in a little time the priest, Father Mendez, appeared. He was unloosed also, more dead than alive; the rope was lowered, but scarcely had it reached the deck when a raging sea came roaring up--fearful shrieks were heard--the mast was torn away from its hold in the rock--a rush was made at the rope; one man grasped it, but others in their haste dragged him off, and the next instant the remainder of the wreck which hung together was dashed into numberless fragments, while all who had clung to it were hurled amidst them, one after the other rapidly disappearing beneath the foaming waters.

Morton and the Shetlanders looked anxiously over the cliff. It was too evident that not another human being had escaped from the wreck of the "Saint Cecilia."

"There goes the brave s.h.i.+p, and there go my gallant captain and worthy comrades," cried Pedro Alvarez, wringing his hands and pulling away at his moustachios in the excess of his grief, as he looked over the cliff and watched the utter destruction of the corvette. The priest, when he had sufficiently recovered to understand what had occurred, knelt down, and those who watched him supposed, as he lifted up his hands over the ocean, that he was uttering prayers for the souls of his departing s.h.i.+pmates. Meantime Captain Maitland was kneeling by the almost inanimate form of Hilda, and endeavouring by every means which his experience could suggest to restore her to consciousness. At length he was joined by Father Mendez. "Let her continue thus, kind sir," he said. "It is better that she should not be aware of the calamity which has overtaken her."

Morton also, followed by the Spanish lieutenant, came up. "We can render no further a.s.sistance to the crew of the unfortunate s.h.i.+p," he observed; "not another person who was on board her remains alive but those we have here."

With the most gentle care poor Hilda was conveyed to the boat, which pulled back towards Hamna Voe.

The priest shuddered as he saw the seas from which he had so lately escaped come rolling up on the boat's quarter, but his compressed lips showed that he was resolved not to give way to his feelings in words.

Sea followed sea in quick succession, and Morton's utmost care was required to save the boat from being swamped. All breathed more freely when the entrance of the voe was safely reached. As they pulled up it, Morton heard some shouts. On raising his head, he saw Lawrence Brindister standing on a height overlooking the voe. He was whirling his arms wildly about as before, and peering down to ascertain who was in the boat. When he discovered a female, he apparently guessed that she was his cousin Hilda; and striking little Neogle, he turned the pony's head, and rode off as fast as the creature could gallop. The boat continued her course to the head of the voe.

A rough litter being formed, Hilda was conveyed to Captain Maitland's house; but as she continued plunged in a state of stupor, Father Mendez advised that she should at once be taken to her home. His advice seemed so judicious, that Morton offered to carry her there in his boat.

Captain Maitland also expressed a wish to be of the party, and the next morning, accompanied by Pedro Alvarez and Father Mendez, they embarked for Lunnasting. The only person who appeared on the landing-place was Lawrence Brindister. He stood, hat in hand, with a mocking expression on his countenance, and he was beginning to address the party when his eye fell on Hilda. Her appearance seemed to touch his heart, for he said nothing, but, turning round, walked slowly back before them to the castle.

It is needless to describe the dismay and astonishment which poor Hilda's return excited in the establishment. Lawrence had evidently in no way warned them of what had occurred. Bertha Eswick had need of all her self-possession and presence of mind to perform her duty. It was many days before Hilda returned to a state of consciousness! In the meantime, Father Mendez took up his abode in the castle; and, from the way in which Pedro Alvarez settled himself in his apartment, it looked as if he also intended to be a permanent guest at Lunnasting.

CHAPTER TEN.

GUESTS AT THE CASTLE--THE HEIR OF LUNNASTING--LAWRENCE BRINDISTER'S CAVE.

For a long time after Hilda's return to Lunnasting, Bertha Eswick feared that the mind of her young mistress had gone for ever. All the aid which medical skill could afford appeared to be of no avail; the only person who had in the slightest degree the power of arousing her sufficiently to speak was Father Mendez--the means he employed no one could discover. He would sit with her in a turret chamber for hours together; and after several weeks had pa.s.sed, she was heard talking fluently and rapidly with him; but as soon as she entered the hall, where she took her seat as usual, she relapsed into the most perfect silence. When, however, the priest addressed her, she answered him readily, though briefly, but seemed to be totally unconscious of the presence of any one else. The condition of the unfortunate lady was a sufficient reason for Father Mendez remaining at Lunnasting; indeed, he remarked that he should consider himself guilty of the greatest cruelty should he take his departure till the return of her father and sister.

There was no one besides Hilda of sufficient authority in the castle to request him to go, so he remained on. No news had been received of Sir Marcus Wardhill and his daughter, and it was supposed that they were entirely ignorant of the strange occurrences which had taken place.

Pedro Alvarez likewise continued to live on at the castle; when he had learned enough English to express himself, he offered several excellent reasons for remaining. In the first place, he said that Don Hernan had confided his wife to his charge, as with a prescience of what was to occur, just before the s.h.i.+pwreck; and that at that awful moment he had vowed to devote himself to her interests as long as his life should last. He also frankly confessed that he had no means of returning home; he had written to Spain for a remittance, as well as to announce the loss of the corvette, and till his cash arrived he could not go away, even if he wished to do so. Father Mendez also stated that it was the wish of his late captain's widow that the lieutenant should continue a guest at the castle, as long as he found it convenient to remain.

Pedro Alvarez and Lawrence after a time became very great friends. They boated, and fished, and shot together; and Lawrence a.s.sisted him very much in learning English. When, however, the days grew shorter, and the nights longer and colder, he shrugged his shoulders, and complained that the time was very dull. He had, however, by his frank, open, and unpretending manners, and quiet habits, won very much upon the good opinion of Bertha Eswick, who declared that she would far rather have his society at the castle than that of Father Mendez, whose ways and notions she could by no means understand, although she owned that he spoke far better English, and that no fault could be found with the courtesy and gentleness of his manners. Neither of them gave any trouble. Father Mendez especially was satisfied with the simplest fare.

Plain water formed his beverage, eggs and fish his princ.i.p.al food.

Pedro Alvarez preferred as great a variety as he could get, and several times descended to the kitchen to instruct Moggie Druster, the cook, in the art of concocting dishes in the Spanish fas.h.i.+on, of which oil (and of that there was an ample supply in Shetland) formed one of the chief ingredients. He was made perfectly happy too with a package of tobacco, which Rolf Morton obtained for him from Lerwick, and which he employed his leisure moments in converting into cigarettes. Lawrence Brindister also still further added to his satisfaction, by putting into his hands five goodly volumes, on opening which he found to be Spanish; travels, histories, and a romance--subjects exactly suited to the worthy Pedro's tastes. They were strangely battered, and stained as with salt water.

How he had obtained them Lawrence would not say. The priest saw the books, but turned away from them with a disdainful glance, as if he could take no interest in subjects of a character so trivial. The contrast between the two strangers was very great. Pedro Alvarez was in figure more like an English sailor than a Spaniard. He was somewhat short, and broad-shouldered, and stout, with a frank, open, and ruddy, though sunburnt countenance; his large black sparkling eyes, beaming with good humour, spoke of the southern clime which gave him birth, as did his black curling moustache, and hair of the same hue. Father Mendez, on the other hand, was thin in the extreme, with sallow complexion, and sharp features, but his countenance showed that he possessed a peculiarly intelligent and acute intellect. It could not be said that there was anything unpleasing in the expression of his features; it was rather the total want of expression which they mechanically a.s.sumed when he was conversing, or when he was aware that he was observed, of which any one would complain. It was not a stolid look which he put on, but rather that of a person totally unconscious of what was pa.s.sing around; indeed, so perfect was the composure of every muscle of his face, that it looked completely like a mask with a pair of bright eyes gleaming through it. Though he kept those eyes perfectly fixed, he had not succeeded in obscuring at pleasure their brightness.

Nothing could surpa.s.s the subdued gentleness of the tone of voice in which he generally spoke, though he could at will raise it in a way to astonish his hearers.

The long winter of Shetland was pa.s.sing slowly by, without any events of interest occurring in the neighbourhood of Lunnasting; the time was drawing on when it would be necessary for Rolf Morton to go south to look out for a s.h.i.+p, unless he would altogether give up his profession and chance of promotion; but he was naturally unwilling to leave home till his wife had made him a father, which she expected in a very short time to do. It was also generally understood that the unhappy Hilda would shortly become a mother, and already a very general feeling of compa.s.sion was expressed for the poor little fatherless babe which was about to be born. How would the poor lady get through her trials? Was she likely to live? If the child lived, would it be the heir of Lunnasting? Or should its father have been heir to estates, and a t.i.tle in Spain, as it had been said he was, would it succeed instead of him?

These and numerous other questions of a similar character were asked over and over again, but were never satisfactorily answered. Letters had been received from Sir Marcus, but he fixed no time for his return home, and it was very evident from the tenor of his remarks that he believed everything was going on in his castle as he had left it. He might possibly have been rather astonished had he heard what had occurred. The truth was, that neither had his factor Sandy Redland, nor any one else, ventured to write to him, and very naturally Hilda had not done so; Sandy was a man who liked to live a peaceable life, and to have matters his own way, and he knew very well that, should Sir Marcus be hurried back, not only would all peace and quiet be banished from Lunnasting, but he would most certainly for the future have nothing whatever his own way. It is possible that Sir Marcus was not the only head of a family who might have cause to be astonished at the doings of his household during his absence. At length a packet of letters arrived from Spain. It contained some for Don Hernan, as well as for other deceased officers of the "Saint Cecilia;" one was for Pedro Alvarez, and several were addressed to Father Mendez, who likewise took possession of all the rest. The lieutenant read his despatch with a great deal of interest.

"And so our poor captain would have been a marquis," he exclaimed to himself, "the Marquis de Medea, and owner of those magnificent estates.

Well, truly he had something to live for, and yet he was cut off--while I who have not a peco beyond my pay, and little enough of that, have been allowed to remain in existence. I cannot understand these matters--it is very strange; still, I will not forget my vow. I promised that poor fellow to look after his widow, and if she has a son, I will, to the best of my humble power, see that his interests are not neglected. Now I wonder what information Father Mendez has received.

He must have heard that Don Hernan, had he lived, would have succeeded to this t.i.tle and these estates. The letters to the captain, which he has opened, cannot fail of speaking of the matter. Probably they are written expressly to give the information. I wonder, now, whether the father will say anything about it. Well, he does not love me, and I do not trust him, and I will watch him narrowly, and see if I cannot be as close as he can. Bah! if all men would be honest it would save a great deal of trouble. If Donna Hilda's child should be a girl there will be very little for me to do in the affair; she cannot, I suspect, inherit either the t.i.tle or estates. If the child is a boy he will be the rightful heir, there is no doubt about that; but then he will find a mortal enemy in Don Hernan's cousin, Don Anibal Villavicencio, who will stir heaven and earth to keep the boy out of his rights; the moment he hears of Don Hernan's death he will take possession of the property and a.s.sume the t.i.tle. I must find out what tack Father Mendez is sailing on. Is he in the interest of the living marquis, or of the unborn baby?

He is never happy unless he is playing some deep game or other. I suspect that he is waiting to see how things turn out. At all events, though he beats me hollow in an argument, I'll try whether in a good cause I cannot outmanoeuvre him. He does not want for money, that I know. He has his belt stuffed full of gold pieces even now, so the want of means to go away does not keep him here. Why he does not offer some to me to get me away I do not know. Probably he looks on me as a rough, untutored sailor, and despises me too much to dread my interference with his plans. Perhaps he intends to buy me over, and to make use of me to aid him. He knows himself pretty well, and thinks all men are likewise rogues. He will be rather astonished if he finds that he has been outwitted by a straightforward, honest sailor."

At length the event for some time looked for, both at the castle and the cottage, occurred. Bertha Morton presented her husband with a fine boy, and scarcely had the young gentleman--Ronald Morton he was to be called--given notice of his arrival in the world by a l.u.s.ty fit of crying, and had been exhibited in due form to his father, than the wise woman who attended on such occasions was now moving in hot haste to the castle of Lunnasting, to afford her aid to Donna Hilda, who was, it is said, in sore pain and distress. Alas! she had no fond husband to cheer and console her; no one to whom she could show with pride and joy the little creature about to be born into the world. Bertha Eswick had expressed her hopes that the child would be a girl. A la.s.sie, she observed, would be a comfort and a companion to the poor lady, who would herself be able to instruct her, and would ever keep her by her side; whereas a boy must be sent away to school, and would then have to go into the world, where he would again see little or nothing of his poor mother.

Father Mendez and Pedro Alvarez were walking up and down, but not together, on the sunny side of the court-yard. It was the only spot, they declared, in the whole island where they could be sheltered from the biting keenness of the wind, and feel any of the warmth to which they were accustomed in their own country. Both were anxious to hear whether a son or daughter was born to the lady of the mansion. Pedro Alvarez was certainly the least anxious.

While the two foreigners were thus engaged, Moggie Druster, the cook, put her head out of a window and shouted--

"It's a braw laddie, sirs--a fine strapping bairn. It's like to do weel, and so is it's mother, poor lady."

"A what do you say it is, Mistress Moggie?" asked Father Mendez.

"A braw laddie; a big bouncing boy, ye would ca' him in English,"

answered Moggie, with a slight touch of scorn in her tone.

"A boy!" exclaimed the priest and the lieutenant almost at the same moment.

The priest took several rapid turns up and down the courtyard with compressed lips and knitted brow, but said nothing.

"And how goes the poor lady?" inquired Pedro Alvarez. "And good Mistress Moggie," he continued, going up to her and whispering, "I tell her that her husband's warmest friend is ready and at hand to a.s.sist and comfort her, as far as he has the power."

"Ay, that will I, Mr Pedro; ye are a kind-hearted gentleman, that ye are," answered Moggie, whose heart the honest lieutenant had completely won, in return for the culinary instruction he had afforded her.

Poor Bertha Eswick was nearly worn to death from hurrying between her daughter's cottage and the castle, though her young mistress required, and certainly obtained, by far the greatest share of her care. Healthy, however, as Bertha Morton had always appeared, soon after the birth of her child she caught a cold, and this produced an illness which made her mother and husband very anxious about her, and it became too evident, before long, to the anxious eyes of affection, that she held her life on a most precarious tenure. Hilda, on the contrary, seemed completely restored to health, both of body and mind. She had now a deeply interesting object in existence, and all her thoughts and attention were devoted to her infant.

Lawrence Brindister did not return to the castle till late in the day on which Hilda's child was born. He received the announcement with a look of incredulity on his countenance.

"And so you tell me that an heir to Lunnasting is born," he exclaimed to Bertha Eswick, whom he met as she was hurrying down for the first time from her mistress's chamber. "Ha, ha, ha! how many heirs to Lunnasting are there, think ye? Never mind, good Bertha, 'The prince will hae his ain again! The prince will hae his ain again!' Who is the prince, think ye, Bertha? Ye little ken, but I do; the fool knows more than the wise man, or the wise woman either ha, ha, ha!"

These remarks sorely puzzled Bertha Eswick, and made her think a great deal; she knew Lawrence Brindister thoroughly, and seldom failed to distinguish between the mere hallucinations which occasionally took possession of his mind, and the ideas which originated from facts. "If Marcus Wardhill is not the rightful possessor of Lunnasting, who can be the owner?" she asked herself, over and over again.