The Heir of Kilfinnan Part 19

Happily human beings are so const.i.tuted, that grief with few, especially with the young, lasts long. After a time, Lady Nora and her cousin recovered their usual spirits, and began to ride about the country as before. Their chief pleasure was to visit those they had long known, and to extend their search of others who might require relief. The surest means for those who are themselves in distress of obtaining comfort is to do good to their fellow-creatures. Several times they paid a visit to the old fishwife, Widow O'Neil. She seemed to have grown more hardy and wiry than ever. It was wonderful what exertions she could go through. She often had the a.s.sistance of her brother Shane, who was, however, advancing in life, and not so active as before, while she appeared to have retained all her strength and activity. They remarked, whenever they paid her a visit, the delight she took in speaking of her long-lost son. She never failed to tell them that she had seen him in her dreams. She knew, she declared, that he was thinking of her, and though she could not say why he was detained, he was, she felt certain, endeavouring to come back to her. Sometimes she thought he was a slave in some foreign land; sometimes that he had been cast away on some desert island, and had to live there, unable to make his escape, and sometimes that he was in prison. She said she knew he was in far distant lands, as that alone would have kept him from her.

They could not help being struck by the deep, the intense love and confidence in him which the old woman always expressed for her son, though they naturally had considerable doubts whether, if he really was alive, he could feel the same for her.

"He was a handsome youth," observed Lady Sophy to her cousin, "but there was a wild, daring look in his eye, and he was a lad who, when once away, and having obtained a better position in life than that which he enjoyed in his early days, would very likely cast off all thoughts of his poor mother, and would have no wish to return to her humble cottage."

"Oh, no, no," said Lady Nora, "I could not think that of him; of course I do not recollect him clearly, except from the sketch you made of him, but yet I am sure from the expression of his countenance that he must have been as true and honest as he was handsome. No, I would rather suppose that he has long since been killed. Just consider how many thousands of seamen have lost their lives within the last few years in the numberless battles in which our country has been engaged, and how likely it is that he was among them, and that is why no one has received any tidings of him."

Such was the conversation which took place as they climbed up the hill to return to their horses. They had promised Widow O'Neil to visit her again in a day or two. She had undertaken to supply them with sh.e.l.ls which her brother Shane had collected, and which they wished to send to a friend at a distance. When, however, the day arrived on which they were to pay their visit, the morning broke with a storm of rain and wind. The dark clouds chased each other over the sky, and the wind whistled round the towers of the castle.

"It will be impossible for us to ride to Widow O'Neil's to-day,"

observed Sophy when they met at breakfast. "I do not think Mr Finlayson will promise to accompany us; he would not like to face the bad weather."

"Perhaps the rain will clear off, and then he will not mind the wind any more than we shall," observed Sophy.

Mr Finlayson, who then entered the room, declared that should the weather clear, he was ready to mount the little cob which had been appropriated for his use, which was so steady, that occasionally the Earl had gone out shooting on its back, and so sure-footed, it had never been known to stumble.

"But, my dear Lady Nora, you must be more careful than you were once on a time, on a skittish young horse which nearly proved your death,"

observed the old lawyer. "A day like this tries an animal; and unless your steed is as steady as a rock I cannot sanction your going out."

"Oh, I will take care to ride one of the best behaved of our stud,"

answered Nora, "and Sophy shall have the next, as she is somewhat the better horsewoman. I am anxious to send off those beautiful sh.e.l.ls to Miss Fitz-Patrick, as she particularly begged to have them, and we may not have another opportunity of doing so for some time."

It was thus arranged that the horses should be ordered in the forenoon, should the weather clear sufficiently, and that they would pay their visit to Widow O'Neil. In a short time the rain ceased falling, although the wind continued blowing as hard as ever; indeed, it was a complete summer gale. The clouds rushed rapidly along the sky, and the seas rolled in with all their force from across the wide Atlantic. It wanted an hour or more to the time they had agreed to set out, and the two ladies retired to their turret boudoir. Scarcely had they entered the room, when Lady Nora exclaimed that she saw a vessel in the north-west, at no great distance from the land. The gla.s.s was turned in the direction towards which she pointed.

"She is a large ship," she observed, "but she seems to me to have lost most of her masts, there is but one standing; yes, I am sure of that, all the the rest are gone. With this fierce gale blowing on the sh.o.r.e, what a dangerous position she is in! I cannot make out what ship she is. Do you look, Sophy; what do you say to it?"

Sophy looked through the gla.s.s.

"I cannot make out to a certainty, but from her appearance, I should judge her to be a man-of-war. Yes, I am nearly sure of it; I should say that she is a frigate, for when I keep the telescope steady, I can almost count her ports."

Nora looked through the gla.s.s.

"Yes, you are right," she said; "she seems to be standing to the south, but she is evidently drifting fast towards the land. I see, though, she has got some after-sail set on the stump of the mizenmast, and I think I understand it; she wishes to weather the reef, and of course after that take shelter in the bay. Yes, yes, that is clearly her object; she is struggling bravely with the seas, but oh, in what fearful peril she is placed."

The ladies immediately ordered their horses round, proposing to watch the progress of the ship from the cliffs.

"I daresay that Mr Finlayson will not object to come with us at once,"

said Lady Sophy, and she left the room in search of him.

"Willingly, my dear young lady," he answered; "you will find that I am no despicable cavalier when once I am in the saddle."

The party were soon mounted and cantering across the downs in the direction of the struggling ship. Mr Finlayson was much less acquainted with nautical affairs than were his fair companions, still he knew enough to be aware that the ship was in great danger. The wind prevented them from making rapid progress along the downs, although they urged on their steeds as fast as they could go, anxious to meet some one who could give them further information about the ship. They determined to go on till they reached the widow's hut, as they knew that, should her brother be there, as he had promised to be, they would learn more from him than from anybody else as to the probability of the ship escaping destruction on the dangerous reef towards which she appeared to be drawing. Still they hoped against hope, that she might struggle on and escape.

As they approached the end of the cliff above Widow O'Neil's cottage, they recognised her standing on a high projecting point of land, gazing towards the ship. Her actions gave them the idea that she, like poor Kathleen, had lost her senses. Wildly she waved her arm, sometimes clasping her hands, raising them towards heaven; then, again, she stretched them over the ocean. As the ladies and Mr Finlayson rode up to her, words of prayer were escaping from her lips.

"What is the matter, Mistress O'Neil?" asked Sophy, riding up to her.

"Why are you thus agitated this morning?"

"It is on account of a dream I had last night," she answered. "That is no wonder, though, for every night as I lie on my bed I dream that my boy is coming back to me, though when I am about to clasp him to my heart he escapes away again; but last night I dreamed that he really had come back, and there he was lying in my arms, just as he was when an infant and smiling in my face. He must come back soon, too, for I am getting old, very old, and oh, he will scarcely know me now! There is not much time to lose; but he will come; yes, my lady, I know that he will come. He will not be as young, and beautiful, and strong, and happy as he was when he went away, so many, many years ago,--I know not how many; I have lost all count of them. Oh, they have been years of grief and mourning to me--sad, sad years; but such have been the years of my life since one I loved was taken from me. Ah, if you had known him, ladies, you would have said I had reason to love him: and now, my boy, my only boy, to have been thus long kept from me! But he is coming back, ladies. I tell you, I dreamed last night that he was coming back; and suppose he was to be on board yonder ship! Ah, but I feel sure that he cannot be, for she will strike on yonder dark reef, and soon be a shattered wreck, to which no human being could cling and live. See how fiercely the seas roll in, and dash furiously over it! See, see how the brave frigate is drifting faster and faster towards the land! When I first saw her this morning she was a good two leagues away, and now there is not a quarter of a league between her and that rocky point. If once she strikes upon it, few of her st.u.r.dy crew will ever come ash.o.r.e alive. Few, do I say? none, none can live amid those breakers. Oh, Heaven protect them!"

In spite of the strong gale which blew round them, neither the ladies nor Mr Finlayson could tear themselves from the spot where they stood, it being the best situation they could reach for watching the progress of the labouring frigate.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

We must for a time follow the fortunes of Charles Denham. Those were days of rapid promotion, when an officer's name stood well at the Admiralty. The young commander had not long served his time on board the corvette before he received his post rank. Scarcely twelve years had pa.s.sed since he first stepped on board a man-of-war as a young seaman before the mast, when he found himself in command of a fine frigate of thirty-six guns--the _Isabel_. Ned Davis, who had followed him into every ship in which he served, now, by his advice, having applied for a warrant, was appointed boatswain to the _Isabel_.

Although Denham had attained what might be considered the height of his ambition, he hoped, while in command of the frigate, to make a still higher name for himself. Opportunities of doing so were not likely to be wanting. England had enemies in all directions, and there was every probability that a fine dashing frigate like the _Isabel_ would soon meet with a foe well worthy of her. She was, however, much to the disappointment of her commander and crew, sent to the Mediterranean, which, by that time, had been pretty well cleared of all England's enemies. There was work, however, to be done, and whatever Denham was ordered to do he performed it well. Having, at length, come home with despatches, he was sent to the West Indies, where he had already seen a good deal of service.

During this time he had few opportunities of hearing from the Earl of Kilfinnan, to whom, however, he occasionally wrote, and got a kind answer in return. Again, after nearly four years' service, he was on his way home. When about three parts across the Atlantic, the weather for some time before having been very bad, a ship was reported right ahead. As the frigate approached her, she was seen to have her ensign downwards, as a signal of distress. She appeared to be a large merchantman. Her topmasts were gone, and she had, in other ways, evidently suffered from the heavy weather. As soon as the frigate drew near enough, she was hove to, and a boat being lowered, she was sent on board the stranger. As the officer in command of the boat stepped on board the ship, he was struck by the fearful appearance it presented. A few of the crew, pale and emaciated, were dragging themselves about the deck, scarcely able to stand upright, while on mattresses placed close to the bulwarks were numerous human beings, some apparently dead, others dying, moaning fearfully and in plaintive voices, pet.i.tioning for water.

It was a long time before the lieutenant could get any one to explain what had happened. The captain, it appeared, had died, and so had most of the officers and the pa.s.sengers. Their bodies had been thrown overboard. Great was his horror when he at length ascertained that they were suffering from the yellow fever. The weather was very hot, and it was but too likely even that this short visit to the pest-infested ship might cause him to convey it to the crew of the frigate. What, however, was to be done? He could not leave the unfortunate people on board the merchantman to perish by themselves, without help; while, should he remain, he and those with him might catch the same complaint. He found on inquiry that several persons were down below who had hitherto escaped the pestilence. At length, uncertain how to act, he returned on board the _Isabel_, to receive instructions from his captain. The surgeon of the frigate was of opinion that the only safe plan was thoroughly to fumigate the vessel, and put a prize crew on board, to navigate her to an English port, as it would be unsafe to take any of the people out of her. This plan was followed, and an officer with twelve men went on board to carry the ship to Bristol.

It was hoped that from the short time the lieutenant and his men were on board no infection could have been conveyed from her to the frigate.

Before two days, however, had pa.s.sed these hopes were found to be fallacious. Two of the men who had been on board the merchantman were seized with the fearful complaint, and the following day were corpses.

Several others in the course of a few hours were seized in the same manner. Their illnesses in each case terminated fatally. As is often the case, a panic seized the whole crew, and men who would have faced an enemy boldly, trembled at the thoughts of the attacks of this unseen foe. The captain and officers had tried to encourage them and revive their spirits; but all seemed in vain. Not a day pa.s.sed without several of the men being committed to the deep, and no one knew who would be the next victim. The surgeon declared his belief that the seeds of the disease must have been contracted in the West Indies, as it was impossible it could have been communicated by the people of the merchantman.

"Let the cause be what it may, the best hope we have of getting free of the fever is to meet an enemy of equal size to ourselves; and, then, while we are fighting him, I have no doubt that 'Yellow Jack' will take to flight," observed the captain.

At length a breeze sprang up, and although the disease had not altogether ceased, it had considerably decreased. A sharp look-out was kept at all hours for any sail which might appear on the horizon. At length one was observed in the south-west, and all sail was made in chase. For some time probably the _Isabel_ was not seen by the vessel she was chasing. The latter, however, was at length seen to make sail, and to stand away to the west. The _Isabel_ was a fast vessel, and every effort was now made to increase her speed. The sails were wetted, every st.i.tch of canvas she could carry was set, and every other device adopted to urge her through the water.

In those days the engagements which had taken place between English and French ships had terminated in most instances so disastrously to the latter, that Napoleon, it was said, had ordered all his cruisers to avoid fighting if they possibly could. This might have accounted for the flight of the stranger; for as the _Isabel_ drew nearer, she was discovered to be either a heavy frigate or a line-of-battle ship. On a still nearer approach the French ensign flew out from her peak, and it was ascertained, without doubt, that she was a large frigate, a worthy antagonist for the _Isabel_. Superior as the enemy might be in guns and in number of men, Captain Denham resolved to attack her. The engagement he knew would be a severe one; but he trusted for victory to the tried gallantry of his officers and crew, and the resolution with which they would work the guns. He had the weather-gauge, and he hoped by skilful manoeuvring to retain it. The enemy finding she could not escape, now hauled up her courses, and made every preparation for battle. The _Isabel_, when she drew near enough, at once opened fire to cripple her antagonist, and to retain the position she now enjoyed. This first broadside considerably cut up the Frenchman's rigging; but the fire the _Isabel_ received in return did her still greater damage, badly wounding the fore-topmast. Davis went aloft to examine it, and reported on his return that he feared it would not stand much longer. Both the frigates now standing on a wind, continued to exchange broadsides; the English firing at the hull of their antagonist, while the Frenchman seemed to aim more particularly at cutting up the masts and rigging of the English ship.

"She seems to be full of men, and I suspect her object is to get alongside, and to take us by boarding," observed the captain to his first lieutenant.

"We will show them what British steel can do if they make the attempt, sir," was the answer.

The Frenchman attempted to luff across the English ship's bow, in the hopes of raking her, but Denham was too much on the watch to allow her to execute this manoeuvre successfully. A considerable number of the _Isabel's_ men had been killed. Still, her crew fought on with undaunted courage. At length, her fore-topmast, which had before been severely injured by a chain shot, came down with a crash upon the deck.

The Frenchmen shouted when they saw this, and another shout escaped them when they saw the main-topmast follow the fate of the other mast.

"If they attempt to run us on board we will try to secure them, as we did in the _Cynthia_," observed the captain. "If we let a few of the Frenchmen come on board, we can quickly dispose of them, and then return the compliment."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the lieutenant; "I will give the order to the men to prepare for boarding. They are ready enough for it."

Scarcely had he spoken, when the French frigate, luffing up, ran her bows against the quarter of the _Isabel_. She was immediately secured there by Davis and others; and now the Frenchmen came rushing over the bows, expecting to make her an easy prize.

"Boarders, repel boarders," shouted the first lieutenant.

"I will lead you, my men," cried the captain, springing to the side.

A few Frenchmen who had gained the deck of the _Isabel_ were immediately cut down; and now the English in turn swarmed over the enemy's bows. In spite of all opposition, they worked their way aft. No power seemed capable of resisting them. Although the Frenchmen for some time stood their ground, they were driven back. Step by step the British blue-jackets fought their way, and numbers sank before the st.u.r.dy blows of their cutla.s.ses. Many of the Frenchmen were armed with pistols, by which several of the English were wounded. During this time Davis had ever kept close by the side of his commander. Captain Denham was leading on his men, when suddenly his cutla.s.s dropped from his hand, and he would have fallen had not Davis supported him. At the same moment, a tall Frenchman, with uplifted cutla.s.s, was in the act of bringing it down upon his head, when Davis, bringing his own weapon to the guard, saved his captain, and with a return cut sent the Frenchman reeling backwards.

"On, my lads, on," shouted the captain, again rising to his feet.

"Though I cannot use my sword, you can keep yours going instead."

The energy with which he spoke was infused into his followers, and pushing onward they drove the Frenchmen before them. The Frenchmen, encouraged by their officers, attempted to rally; but no sooner had they done so, than, led by their gallant captain, the English made another dash forward, and again drove them back. Meantime, the weather had been changing, and the moderate breeze which had hitherto been blowing, was followed by a heavy gale. Although the _Isabel_ was well-nigh dismantled, she was still more than a match for her opponent. In a short time, numbers of the Frenchmen having fallen, an officer was seen to run aft and haul down the French flag. The prize was won. She mounted four more guns than did the _Isabel_, with a far more numerous crew. The prospect of bad weather made it necessary at once to send a prize crew on board the captured frigate, and to remove the greater part of her own people, so that a few Frenchmen only were left on board.

Great was the delight of the crew at finding, from the report of the surgeon, that their captain's wound was not likely to prove serious, though his arm might be disabled for some time.

The second lieutenant was ordered on board to carry the prize into Plymouth, she having suffered but little damage in her rigging, while her captor was in a far worse condition. Some time was occupied in clearing away the wreck of the topmasts, and once more getting the ship into order. The gale, however, fearfully increased, and the frigate in an almost helpless condition, having lost sight of her prize, was driven towards the coast of Ireland. Happily, the yellow fever had completely disappeared; but Captain Denham had another cause of anxiety, lest his ship might be driven on that rocky sh.o.r.e on which so many a fine vessel has been lost. He anxiously looked out, therefore, for signs of the gale breaking, and that he might be able once more to make sail and beat off sh.o.r.e. His hopes, however, seemed likely to prove vain. The morning dawned, and far away to the east as the eye could stretch, appeared the high land of the Irish coast. He had hoped to have hauled up sufficiently to have weathered Cape Clear. The gale continued till the frigate was close in with the coast. Shipwreck now seemed inevitable, for no other sail could be set to enable her to beat off sh.o.r.e. There was a bay to the south, but that would now afford no shelter, and no other harbour was open to her. It seemed impossible that she could be saved. One only resource remained, to anchor and cut away the masts. Orders were, therefore, given to prepare for this last alternative. The cables were ranged along the deck, and spare anchors got up from below. The dark seas came rolling in with unabated force from the west, while they broke with terrific force on the rocky sh.o.r.e under her lee. The spray dashed over her bows, flying fore and aft as she forced her way gallantly through the seas. The gale still continued with unabated force. Ma.s.ses of clouds came rushing by overhead, rapidly succeeding each other, while under her lee-bow appeared a long reef of rocks, the dangers of which were well-known to many on board. Still, hopes were entertained that she might be able to weather it. The eyes of the master and other officers, indeed of most on board, were turned now seaward, now to the rocky sh.o.r.e, and now to the reef on the lee beam. There seemed to all but little prospect, unless by a sudden change of wind, of being able to weather the latter.