Roland Cashel Volume I Part 57

For an instant not a word dropped from either side, and it was clear that he who spoke first had gained the victory. This was the lady.

"Go, sir"--and she wiped her eyes with that calm dignity by which a scolding wife seems to call up all Christian forgiveness of herself, and stand acquitted before her own conscience--"go, sir, and find out what these people that Cashel has invited mean to do; and if it be their intention to repair to Tubbermore, let us lose no time in setting out; and if we are to go, Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k, let as do so as becomes us."

Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k stifled a rising sigh--for he knew what the words denoted--and departed; while Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k, with her heart lightened of a heavy load, rose to join her daughters, and discuss dress and "toilette," the great commissariat of the approaching campaign.

CHAPTER XXIX. STORM AND WRECK.

Tut, never mind the swell, love, The sails may sweep the brine; But the craft will steer as well, love, With your soft hand in mine.

The Cruise.

It was upon a delicious evening, a little before sunset, that a yacht worked out of the harbor of Kingstown, all her canvas spread to catch the light air of wind, which scarcely ruffled the gla.s.sy surface of the Bay. The craft, with her snow-white sails, her tall and taper spars, her gay bunting from gaff and peak, was all that the scene wanted to render it a perfect picture; and so, to all seeming, thought the many spectators who crowded the pier and the sh.o.r.e, and gazed with admiration at the graceful vessel, as she glided silently above her own image in the water.

Various were the comments and criticisms from those who surveyed her course; some, in wondering conjecture whither she was bound; others, not a whit better informed, boldly affecting some secret knowledge of her destination, and even, by such pretty pretension, a.s.suming airs of superiority.

"She belongs to that rich young fellow, Roland Cashel," said one of these, "who, by the way, is getting through his fortune tolerably fast.

The story goes, that he has spent two hundred thousand already, and is borrowing at immense interest."

"Was n't he a smuggler, or a privateer's-man, or something of the kind?"

"No; he made all the money in the slave trade."

"I always heard that he succeeded to a landed estate," softly insinuated a modest-looking old gentleman.

"Not at all, sir. Such, I am aware, was the common belief; the fact, however, is, that he had invested large sums in land, and was then able to escape the scrutiny many would have inst.i.tuted regarding the origin of his wealth."

"Who is it he is always riding with about town--a handsome girl, on a brown horse?"

"On a gray, you mean."

"No, a brown, with a bang tail."

"No, no, it's a gray. She's a daughter of Tom Kennyf.e.c.k, the attorney."

"The gentleman is right," interposed a third. "I 've seen him very often with a lady mounted on a brown thorough-bred."

"Oh! that's Lady Kilgoff, the handsomest woman in Ireland."

"She was much better-looking two years ago," simpered out an ensign, affectedly. "I used to dance with her and her sister at the race b.a.l.l.s of Ashby."

The group immediately fell back, in tacit acknowledgment of the claim of one so aristocratically a.s.sociated.

"Didn't you know her, Hipsley?" lisped out the ensign to a brother officer, who was admiring a very green baby on the arm of a very blooming nursery-maid. "You knew the Craycrofts, didn't you?"

"Lady Kilgoff's maiden name, sir, was Gardiner," said the timid old gentleman who spoke before.

The ensign stuck his gla.s.s in one eye, and gazed at him for a second or two, with consummate effrontery, and then, in a voice intended for the most cutting drollery, said,--

"Are, you certain it was n't 'Snooks'?"--a rejoinder so infinitely amusing that the bystanders laughed immoderately, and the bashful man retired, overwhelmed in confusion.

"They 're off for a good long cruise," said one, looking through his pocket telescope at the yacht, which now was steering to the southward, with a fresher breeze.

"I suspect so. They took on board five or six hampers from the hotel, just before they sailed."

A very warm controversy now arose as to where the yacht was bound for, and who were the parties who went on board of her in the harbor; points which, in the absence of all real knowledge, admitted of a most animated debate. Meanwhile, an old weather-beaten sailor, in a pilot coat, continued to gaze alternately from the sky to the sea, and back again, and at last murmured to himself,--

"They 'll catch it before midnight, if they don't haul their wind, and get into shelter."

Some drifting clouds, dropping slight rain as they pa.s.sed, soon after cleared the pier of its loiterers, and night fell, dark and starless, while the wind freshened, and the sea fretted and chafed upon the rocks, and even sent its spray high against the strong lighthouse.

Let us now quit the sh.o.r.e, and bear company with the party on board, who, having dined sumptuously, sat sipping their coffee on deck, while the swift craft skimmed the calm waters of the bay, and unfolded in her course the beautiful panorama of the sh.o.r.e--the bold steep bluff of Brayhead, the curved strand of Killiney, the two "Sugar Loaves" rising from the bosom of dark woods, and, in the distance, the higher chain of the Wicklow mountains, while on the opposite side Howth seemed like a blue island studding the clear surface of the bay. Lord Kilgoff and Mr.

Sickleton paid but pa.s.sing attention to the bright picture around.

A learned discussion on naval matters, wherein my Lord took the opportunity of storing his mind with a goodly stock of technicals, to be used at some future occasion, occupied them altogether, leaving her Ladyship and Roland Cashel to the undisturbed enjoyment of the scene and its a.s.sociations.

They paid the highest tribute the picturesque can exact--they sat in silence watching the changing tints, which from red faded to violet, then gray, and at last grew dark with closing night, while the wind freshening sent the sea rushing swiftly past, and made their light craft heave and pitch heavily.

"We are returning to Kingstown, I trust?" said my Lord to Sickleton, who had left him for a moment, to give orders about shortening sail. "It appears to me like a threatening night."

"It looks dirty, my Lord," said Sickleton, dryly, as he walked aft with the pilot, and conferred with him in a low tone.

"Are we making for Kingstown, Mr. Cashel?" said my Lord, in a voice he was not able to divest of anxiety.

"I believe not," said Cashel, rising, and approaching the compa.s.s. "No, we are lying down channel straight as we can go."

"Ay, and very well for us that we can do it," growled out the pilot. "If we make the Hook Light before we tack, I shall say we 're lucky."

"Does he mean there is any danger, Mr. Cashel?" said Lady Kilgoff, but in a voice devoid of tremor.

"None whatever; but I am sadly distressed at having carried you out so far, since I find that in the present state of the tide, and with the wind still driving more to the north, we cannot bear up for Kingstown, but must run along the sh.o.r.e."

"Think nothing of that," said she, gayly; "real peril I have no fancy for--a mere inconvenience is of no moment whatever; but"--here she dropped her voice very low--"say something to my Lord--give him some encouragement."

"It blows fresh, my Lord, and if it were not for the trespa.s.s on your comfort, I should almost rejoice at the occasion of showing you my yacht's qualities as a sailing-boat."

"I should prefer taking your word for them, sir," said Lord Kilgoff, tartly; "a pleasure-trip is one thing, a night in a small vessel exposed to a heavy gale is another."

"You 're right, my Lord," said the pilot, who heard but a part of the observation; "it will be a gale before morning."

"Luff! luff, there!" shouted Sickleton; and at the same instant a heavy sea thundered against the bow and broke over the fore part of the vessel with a crashing sound.

"I think when we see the lighthouse of Kingstown so near us," said Lord Kilgoff, "there ought to be no great difficulty in returning."

"That's not the harbor-light you see yonder--that's the Kish, my Lord," said the pilot "Keep her up, my man, keep her up, the wind is freshening."

"Will you indeed forgive me for this disastrous turn of our cruise?"