Mystery and Confidence Volume Iii Part 7

Several of the men, cheered by large promises from St. Aubyn, waded as far as possible into the sea, and a.s.sisted some of the crew with ropes and by other means, so that at last more than fifty men were saved.

To paint the grat.i.tude of these poor creatures, their mingled exclamations of joy for their escape, and horror at the recollection of their danger, would be a vain attempt. Some of them appeared to be foreigners, and two or three wore the dress of Turks. Amid the darkness and confusion that prevailed, however, it was scarcely possible to distinguish one person from another. Several of the English sailors (for the ship had evidently been English, and the foreigners were apparently prisoners of war), were busily engaged in succouring a man who had come to sh.o.r.e with scarcely any signs of life, and about whom they appeared very a.s.siduous.

St. Aubyn's people had brought spirits and other cordials to the sea-sh.o.r.e, and after administering such present refreshment as their wants seemed to require, he now put all that were able to walk under the care of Griffiths, desiring him not to take them to the Farm, fearing lest the sight should be too affecting to its female inhabitants, but dispose of them in the best manner he could, amongst the cottages or barns belonging to the farmhouses; for in the abodes of all, his bounty and kindness had procured a welcome reception for any whom he chose to send; he requested Griffiths also just to shew himself at the Farm, to say they were safe, and then return again. Some of his party he dispatched for carts, with blankets, &c. to convey to the village such of the men who were unable to walk.

The storm by this time had nearly subsided, and a late moon began to struggle through the black clouds which still hung upon the horizon: pieces of the unfortunate vessel, with seamens' chests and other articles, were from time to time thrown ash.o.r.e; several bodies also came to land, and St. Aubyn found, though at least fifty had been saved, several lives were unfortunately lost.

St. Aubyn now saw that the young man, about whom the sailors had been so a.s.siduous, and whom they called Captain, was beginning to revive, and approached to speak some words of consolation and kindness. One of the sailors was giving him a gla.s.s of wine, while another held a lantern almost close to him; for the faint light of the moon hardly served to distinguish objects. But what was the surprize, what the tumultuous emotions of St. Aubyn, when, as the light fell full upon the shipwrecked, half-expiring object before him, he retraced the features of Charles Ross!--of him, for whom, but two hours before, his mother had expressed so many tender fears, and poured so many fervent prayers, though not even imagining he shared the actual danger which excited them.

St. Aubyn started, but with tender caution, lest the surprize should overpower the unfortunate man, whispered to his servants not to name him or the place where they were; and approaching still nearer, he took Charles's cold hand, and drawing his own hat over his face, bade him be comforted, for all would yet be well.

The poor young man, too languid to do more than glance his eyes over the person who addressed him, spoke a few words in a faint voice, expressive of his thanks, and then feebly murmured a request to know on what coast he and his friends had been thrown.

"On no unfriendly, no inhospitable sh.o.r.e, a.s.sure yourself," replied St.

Aubyn. "Whatever property the sea spares will be cautiously protected for you and your followers. Many chests have been thrown on sh.o.r.e; and as the weather is becoming calm, when the morning dawns, the boats of your ship shall go off to the wreck, and every thing of value, if possible, be saved."

"I am then on English ground?"

"On the coast of Wales."

"Of Wales! Oh, heavens!----What part of Wales?"

"Be not impatient: you shall know all in good time."

"That voice," said Charles--"surely I have heard that voice before."

"I have been a great traveller," replied St. Aubyn: "we may have met elsewhere."

Charles asked a few more questions, to which St. Aubyn cautiously replied; and a cart being by this time arrived from the village, Charles and two or three others were placed in it, under the escort of Griffiths, to whom the Earl recounted the late interesting discovery, requesting him to take care that Charles was not too suddenly surprised with a knowledge of where he was.

Griffiths saw him safely lodged in the best place that could be found for him; and leaving St. Aubyn's valet to watch by him, and take care that no one spoke to him till his return, hastened with Lord St. Aubyn to Powis's, where they found the whole family had been up all night, anxious beyond expression; and when Ellen saw St. Aubyn dripping wet, his hat and great coat heavy with the rain and spray of the sea, she tenderly reproached him for so exposing himself, while Joanna's looks read the same lecture to Griffiths: but both were so rejoiced at the good their exertions had effected, that the chiding was little heeded; and soon, by the a.s.sistance of dry clothing, they made a more comfortable appearance; and after dispatching as many necessaries as could be collected to the poor mariners, and above all to Charles (though yet his being so near was kept a profound secret to his parents and friends), the whole party retired to rest, which indeed the fatigues of the night rendered extremely necessary to all.

CHAP. VIII.

The image of a wicked heinous fault Lives in his eye: that close aspect of his Does shew the mood of a much-troubled heart!

KING JOHN.

St. Aubyn would not disturb the repose of Ellen that night, or rather that morning, for the sun had risen before they retired, by mentioning the discovery of Charles amongst the shipwrecked mariners; but his own anxiety how best to break the matter to Ross and his wife would not allow him to sleep late, in spite of the fatigue he had undergone.

As soon as he was drest, he went to the cottage where Charles had been placed, and found him greatly recovered: he had been greatly exhausted during the storm, which had lasted longer at sea than at land: he had laboured with unceasing activity to save the ship, of which he was the commander, though he had not the rank of captain, and had not left her till all hope of her escaping was lost: he was also considerably bruised, for he would not embark in the boats, but had floated to land on a piece of timber. Rest, however, had in some measure recruited his strength, and though still languid, he hoped to be able to rise in the course of the day, and see what could be done to save his property, and that of his shipmates.

All this St. Aubyn learned from his valet, who sat by the young man, and prevented any one from approaching who might too suddenly have informed him his parents were so near.

St. Aubyn, however, now judged it proper this information should reach him: he went therefore to the little room where Charles lay--it was darkened as much as possible; and St. Aubyn sat down by his bed-side without being recognized. He inquired with great kindness for the health of the invalid, to which Charles replied he was better: "But surely,"

added he, "I have heard that voice before: even amid the horrors of last night, when it was so generously exerted in comforting me, and directing others for the comfort of my poor shipmates, it struck me as one deeply engraved on my memory, though I cannot recollect the name of its owner."

"It is a voice," said St. Aubyn, "you certainly have heard before: I recognize your's also, and know your name--it is Ross."

"It is, indeed," said Charles: "pray tell me your's, for it is cheering to think I am not quite amongst strangers."

"You will be convinced you are not, when I tell you my name is St.

Aubyn."

"St. Aubyn? _Lord_ St. Aubyn?"

"The same."

"Oh, how much do I owe to you!" exclaimed Charles: "I blush to remember my former ingrat.i.tude and folly."

"Speak no more of it--it is quite forgotten."

"Ah, my Lord, how good you are. But did you not say last night we were on the coast of Wales? Tell me, I beseech you, on what part of that coast. I begin to hope, knowing Lady St. Aubyn's former residence."

He paused breathless, with contending emotions.

"Lady St. Aubyn and myself," replied St. Aubyn calmly, "are on a visit to some _friends_ in this neighbourhood. The storm of last night, and the hearing a ship was in distress, induced me to take out my servants and some others to see if we could be of any service to the unfortunate mariners. One of the friends we were with blessed me, and prayed that my undertaking might prosper. Her prayers were heard: they were the fervent supplication of a _mother_ for her _son_, though then she knew not nor could believe he was implicated in the danger."

"Ah! Heavens!" exclaimed Charles, "it was _my_ mother! Speak, my Lord, speak! Are we not at, or near Llanwyllan?"

"Be composed, and I will tell you."

"I am composed, and able to hear all."

"You are at Llanwyllan. Your father, mother, and Joanna, were obliged by the storm of last night to remain at Powis's: there I left them sleeping in peace, not knowing or imagining their son and brother was so near."

The tears ran down the cheeks of Charles, and his heart swelled high with thankfulness both to his earthly and heavenly preserver.

After a few minutes, for St. Aubyn was glad to see his emotions find a relief so desirable, and would not interrupt him, he grasped the hand which the Earl had given him, and would have said something expressive of his grat.i.tude, but St. Aubyn prevented him by saying:

"Not a word on that score, Mr. Ross: mine was the impulse of mere humanity, and I rejoice truly that it led me to save a life so dear to friends greatly respected by me and Lady St. Aubyn. Make your mind easy.

I hope in the course of the day you will be in a state to be placed beneath your father's roof; in the meantime I will prepare his mind, and those of your mother and sister, for a meeting so tender; and there is also another friend at Llanwyllan who will be glad to see you: your former playmate and youthful companion, Ellen, will rejoice in your safety. Be at rest; all will go well, and I trust even your property will go secured, for boats are already gone off to the wreck, and I have sent such persons as I can depend on, to see all that is saved protected from depredation."

"You are too good, my Lord; too good!" said Charles, quite overpowered.

"I must now leave you," said St. Aubyn: "our mutual friends will expect me, and I have an arduous task in prospect, for I dread the effect on the minds of your parents of the disclosure I must now make to them."

He now took his leave, directing every possible care to be taken of the invalid.

St. Aubyn waited till after breakfast to unfold to Ross and his wife the late events; when that meal was concluded, they talked of returning to the Parsonage, but he requested them not to go, for he had something of great consequence to tell them: he then in the gentlest and most judicious manner revealed to them the discovery of the night before, and they supported the communication better than he had expected.

The pious Ross lifted his eyes and heart to Heaven in thankfulness for his son's wonderful escape, while Mrs. Ross and Joanna sobbed upon each others bosom, and mingled tears with their expressions of joy and grat.i.tude. Ellen dropt a tear of tender sympathy, and rejoiced, without fear of offending the no longer jealous St. Aubyn, in the safety of her early friend.

In the afternoon, Charles found himself able to rise, and St. Aubyn sent his carriage to convey him to the Parsonage, where Ellen and himself were ready to receive him, and to support the spirits of his venerable parents and tender sister.