Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume XI Part 21

The scene around us was now dreary and desolate in the extreme: the sky was dark, gloomy, and threatening; light, angry-looking, discoloured clouds flitted over it, like spirits disturbed, while overhead the scud careered with lightning-like rapidity; the sea was covered, as far as the eye could reach, with white foam, and the spray was blown over the ship in a constant heavy shower; the little "Mother Carey's chickens" were dipping their tiny wings in the waves under our stern, and the stormy petrel and albatross swept in wide circles round our storm-tossed vessel. The gale howled mournfully through our rigging, and every now and then a giant sea dashed against our side, and threw torrents of water over our decks. The hatches were battened down fore and aft, and the monotonous clanking of the pumps was heard, mingled with the loud cheers of the men, as they spirited each other up to renewed exertions, and the loud "spell oh!" when the different gangs relieved each other at the pump brakes. The whole of that day was one of incessant labour; for, when, after some hours of hard work, we had gained considerably upon the water, and relaxed a little from our exertions, we found that renewed efforts were required to keep the enemy at bay. Next morning the wind had greatly decreased, and was gradually dying away; but a high sea was still running, and the ship laboured tremendously. More sail was made to steady her; but, in spite of all our efforts, the leak increased; and at last it became evident, after everything had been done which seamanship could propose, or perseverance carry into effect, that the ship was in a foundering state. The captain, who had shewn himself active and energetic during the excitement of the storm, now proved that he possessed that true courage which can face unflinchingly the slow but sure approach of danger and of death. Calm and collected, nay, even cheerful, at least in appearance, his example encouraged and animated the crew, now almost exhausted with their constant exertions. He ordered one watch below to their hammocks, while the other was busied in fitting out the boats, and preparing provisions to put into them, and in keeping the pumps steadily but slowly at work. At last the hands were called out--"Out boats!" and when they were all a.s.sembled, Captain Fleetwood addressed them as follows:--

"My lads, the ship is sinking under us, and we must take to the boats.

You have been active, patient, and obedient hitherto--be so still, and you may yet all be saved. Remember, that, as long as _one_ of your officers is above the water with you, to that officer you owe obedience. For my part, I am determined--and you know I am no flincher--to maintain my authority with my life; but I hope you will not put me to the proof. My intention is to steer for the Island of Tristan d'Acunha, which, if Providence favours us, we may reach in a week or ten days; but much depends upon your own exertions. Now, go below, and take the last meal you will ever eat on board your old ship. Heaven grant that we may all meet once more on sh.o.r.e!"

The men listened in silence, and uncovered while he spoke; and when he ended, they burst into a loud cheer, and one of them shouted out--

"We will stand by you to the last, sir!"

"Ay, that we will," was responded by all.

The captain took off his hat, and bowed, evidently much affected, and dismissed them.

In about twenty minutes they were again called up, and the boats were hoisted out. We had two quarter-boats, a launch, and a jolly-boat, which were amply sufficient to hold our whole number, reduced as it was by the loss of the five poor fellows in the gale; one of the quarter-boats, however, proved to be so leaky when lowered into the water, that we were obliged to abandon her. The other boats were furnished with masts, sails, a fortnight's short provision and water, arms--everything, in fact, that could be thought of as likely to be necessary. The captain took charge of the launch, and the second mate and I cast lots for the cutter; the chance was against me, and I took command of the jolly-boat. We were eight-and-twenty in number: twelve men, the captain, and two of the pa.s.sengers, in the launch; myself, one of the ladies, and four men, in the jolly-boat; and the remainder in the cutter. When we had shoved off from the ship, we lay on our oars at some little distance, as if by mutual consent, to see the last of her; but the captain shouted out--

"Come, my lads, we have no time to spare; give the old craft one parting cheer, and let us make the best of our way."

The men stood up, and, taking off their hats, gave three loud and lengthened cheers. The deserted ship seemed as if she heard and wished to acknowledge the compliment; her head turned gradually towards us; she rose slowly and heavily before the swell, then dipped her bows deep into the water, gave a heavy roll, and sank to rise no more. A stifled groan broke from the men at this sad sight, which cast an evident damp over their spirits.

"Come, cheer up, my lads," said the captain; "we've seen the last of as good a craft as ever floated; but it's of no use being downhearted.

Let us have a cheer for good success!"

The men caught his tone immediately, and their spirits rose when they saw how cheerfully he bore his loss. Tristan d'Acunha bore about S.

10 W., about 200 miles distant; and, as the wind had again drawn to the northward, we had every prospect of reaching it in the course of five or six days. For the first two days we went along merrily enough with a fine steady breeze, and tolerably smooth water, but, on the afternoon of the third, the sky again became overcast, and there was every appearance of another "round turn" in the wind. As night closed in around us, the captain hailed us from the launch, and desired us to keep as near together as possible, for fear of separation. This order was obeyed as long as we were able; but, in the darkness, we soon lost sight of each other, and the sound of our voices was drowned in the increasing noise of wind and sea. About ten o'clock, the wind suddenly shifted in a sharp squall; the sail was taken aback, and the little boat lay over for a moment as if never to rise again. Fortunately the haulyards gave way, and the sail went overboard, or she must have been capsized; as it was, she was nearly half-full of water. I immediately jumped forward to drag the sail in again, when, to my horror, I heard the sound of voices crying for help, to leeward: the sail had knocked two of the men overboard, and it was their dying cry we heard. We pulled round the boat, and shouted out to them; there was no answer--they were gone; they must have been half-drowned before they could get clear of the sail, which had fallen on the top of them. Our grief for their loss was soon absorbed by our fears for our own safety. There were now only three of us remaining--for the lady could be of no a.s.sistance--in a small boat, half-full of water; the wind and sea rising, darkness all around, and the nearest land upwards of one hundred miles distant; our prospects were dismal indeed. Fortunately for us, however, we had no time to brood over our misfortunes; the necessity for active exertion drove all thoughts but those of present danger from our minds. We baled the boat out as fast as possible, got the broken mast in-board, and made all as snug as we could. The wind had shifted, as I said before, to the southward, and came on to blow fresh; and the sea was again rapidly rising. We had nothing for it but to keep the boat right before the wind, although it carried us almost in a contrary direction to the course we wished to steer.

At daylight, we looked anxiously around for the other boats; but in vain did we strain our eyes--nothing was visible. Sad were our forebodings as to the fate of our shipmates, and gloomy our antic.i.p.ations of the future for ourselves. The wind had moderated considerably, but we were still obliged to run before it; and it was not till late in the afternoon that we considered it safe to turn the boat's head again to the southward. By this time it was almost calm, but our two oars could do little against the head sea; and after tugging away at them for some time, we were obliged to lay them in from sheer exhaustion, merely keeping the boat's head to the sea. A light breeze springing up at last from the northward, we got the stump of the mast up, and set the reefed sail upon it, and began slowly to make headway in the wished-for direction.

During the whole of our perilous voyage, the young lady, who had been committed to my charge, behaved with the greatest courage and resignation; not a complaint escaped her lips, though she was drenched to the skin by the spray and rain; not a scream did she utter when the dark sea rose under our stern, threatening to engulf our little bark.

We did all we could to make her as comfortable as circ.u.mstances would allow; for rough indeed must be the nature that does not feel kindly towards youth and beauty in distress. She received all our attentions with such heartfelt expressions of grat.i.tude, and bore her discomforts with such cheerful resignation, that the men could not help audibly expressing their admiration, and vowing to spend their life's-blood in her service.

The sun was again smiling over our heads, and the water rippled under the bows of the boat, as she danced before the breeze; and our spirits were revived by the change. On examining our stock of provisions, we found that most of our biscuit was completely saturated with salt water, and that, with the most sparing economy, we had barely sufficient rum and meat left to last us for a week longer. We immediately spread the wet bread on the boat's thwarts to dry, and cut the meat into small equal portions.

"Now, Miss Neville," said I, laughing--though, Heaven knows, there was little joy in my heart--"I, as commander of this vessel, const.i.tute you acting-purser; you shall serve out our rations to us equally and fairly, and, if any one of my ship's company shall dare to question the justness of your division, or to attempt to help himself without your permission, he shall feel the weight of my anger."

There was _faint_ laugh at this _faint_ attempt at pleasantry on my part; and Miss Neville replied--

"I think, _Captain_ Musgrave, you might have appointed a more sufficient purser than myself; however, I will do my best to justify your choice."

Another day, and another, we kept crawling slowly on; there was little or no wind, and our two oars made but little way. I said before that the boat's crew was reduced to two men and myself. One of these men, a Scotchman, named M'Farlane, had only lately recovered from a severe attack of illness, before we left the ship. The fatigue incurred during the gale, and the danger and excitement of our situation since, had a fatal effect upon the poor fellow's already shattered const.i.tution; he suffered in silence, never uttering a word of complaint; but it was evident to us all that he was sinking fast. On this day he had been taking his turn at the oar, in spite of my remonstrances.

"You will kill yourself, M'Farlane," said I. "You are not strong enough to pull; take the helm, and give Riley the oar again."

"No, sir," replied he; "Riley has had his spell, and I will take mine, though I die for it. I feel that I am going; but let me die in harness. No man shall have it to say that Tom M'Farlane was not game to the last."

Miss Neville joined her entreaties to mine, that he would give over rowing; but in vain.

"Heaven bless you, ma'am," said he--"and it will bless you, and bring you in safety out of your dangers. You are just beginning the voyage of life--and a rough beginning it has been; but never fear. You'll make a happy port at last. As for me, my voyage is just over. I have had both rough and smooth in my time. I've had no cause to complain; and I shall die happy, if I die doing my duty."

The words were scarcely uttered, when he ceased rowing. I turned round, and saw him, with his face deadly pale, bending over the oar, which he was in vain endeavouring to dip in the water. He made two or three convulsive movements, as if in the act of rowing, muttered "Hurrah, my lads!" and, with a heavy groan, fell backward. Riley and I raised him immediately, blood was gushing from his nose and mouth, which we in vain attempted to staunch. He opened his eyes once, shuddered, and expired. I will not attempt to describe the feelings with which we gazed upon the body of our unfortunate shipmate, and thought how soon a still more dreadful doom might be ours. Death, with all its horrid accompaniments of starvation, drowning, &c., came before us. All the horrible stories we had heard of deaths at sea, of misery, hunger, and cannibalism, came crowding upon our memories. At last the silence was broken by Riley, who growled out--

"Well, there's one more going to feed the fishes! It'll be our turn soon. However, its some comfort he has left his share of the grub behind: there'll be more for those who remain."

I could hardly restrain my anger at this cold-blooded speech; but a look from Emily Neville checked me. Riley, however, observed the impression his words had made upon me, and, with a diabolical sneer, said--

"You need not look so black about it. I don't care a b.u.t.ton about your looks or your anger either. One man's as good as another now, and I won't obey you any longer."

"Riley," said I, starting forward, and seizing him by the collar, while my voice trembled with suppressed pa.s.sion, "mark my words! As long as one plank of this boat hangs to another, I am your officer; and while I have life in my body, you _shall_ obey me."

The scoundrel was staggered by my firmness, and sat gloomily down upon the "thwart." Riley had been one of our _black sheep_ on board the Anne. I never liked the fellow. He was always a skulking, discontented, vagabond; ever foremost in mischief, and striving to make his shipmates as mutinous as himself. I saw, by his louring looks, and his sullen, dogged manner, that we must, before long, come into collision again, and I determined to prepare for the worst. I threw all the fire-arms overboard, except a single musket and a brace of pistols, the latter of which I loaded deliberately before his eyes.

"Come," said I, "the sun is long past the meridian, we must pipe to dinner. Miss Neville, serve out our allowance, if you please."

While Riley received his modic.u.m of spirits, he growled out, "Here's a pretty allowance for a hard-working man. Not a stroke more will I put till I get more rum."

"Not a drop more shall you have till the regular time; you must be contented with just enough to keep soul and body together, like your neighbours; we must not all be sacrificed to gratify your greediness."

"Better die at once," said he, "than starve by inches; a short life and a merry one for me!--so hand out the stuff at once, for have it I _will_." And he made a rush to s.n.a.t.c.h the spirits from Miss Neville.

"Back, scoundrel!" said I, c.o.c.king one of my pistols, "or I'll blow your brains out."

The words were scarcely out of my mouth, when the rascal stooped, and s.n.a.t.c.hing up a cutla.s.s which he had concealed in the bottom of the boat, made a cut at me with it, which, but for the tough rim of my leather hat, would have laid my skull open. As it was, I shall carry the scar to my grave. One touch of my trigger, and Miss Neville and I were left in the boat alone. The ball went through his head; he staggered against the gunwale, toppled overboard, and sank at once, tinging the water with his blood. Miss Neville was now obliged to act as doctor as well as purser. She washed my wound, and bound it up as well as she was able. We neither of us spoke; but fearful were the thoughts that pa.s.sed through my mind. The boat lay becalmed upon the water; my strength, wounded as it was, could do little towards forcing her onwards. Unless a breeze sprung up, we must lie in utter helplessness, and die a lingering death by starvation! Miss Neville read my thoughts, and, stifling her own fears, exerted herself to inspire me with confidence.

"Fear not, Mr. Musgrave," said she; "the merciful Providence which has watched over us. .h.i.therto, will protect us till the end. Utterly helpless and hopeless as our situation appears at present, He _can_ save us, and He _will_."

Her words inspired me with renewed energy; and, with a good deal of difficulty, I stepped the mast, which we had unshipped for greater convenience in rowing. Next day we made the land, and, before evening, after a little danger in pa.s.sing the surf, I landed my precious charge in safety.

But I must hurry to the conclusion of my tale, for I see Lorrimer, you are beginning to yawn, and I am tired of it myself.

My first care was to seek a snug shelter among the rocks where I quickly lighted a fire, and shared with my fair fellow prisoner the last remains of our slender sea stock. For the next day's subsistence we were obliged to rely upon my skill as a fowler. I spread the remainder of the powder to dry, and contrived to make up a rude bed for Miss Neville, on which, worn out with fatigue and excitement, she soon enjoyed that rest which she so much required. I retired to a little distance to watch her slumbers; but very soon followed her example. In the morning, invigorated and refreshed, I sallied out with my gun, and soon succeeded in procuring some birds for our morning meal; I then climbed the highest part of the island, and set up the boat's mast with a handkerchief flying from it, in hopes of attracting the attention of some pa.s.sing South Sea whaler. Weeks pa.s.sed in dreary monotony; we wanted for none of the absolute necessaries of life; but we were prisoners, and that consciousness alone was enough to make _me_ discontented and restless. My fair companion bore all her inconveniences unrepiningly, and did all in her power to soothe and comfort me; her sweet disposition, and gentle, silent attentions, insensibly withdrew my thoughts from the discomforts of the present, and hope pictured a bright future of happiness with her whom fate had thrown upon my protection. One morning at daybreak, I climbed as usual to my signal-post, and there, about three miles to windward of the island, a ship was standing under easy sail to the westward. The ship was hove to, and a boat lowered. I rushed down to apprise Miss Neville of the joyful event, and we both hurried to the beach, to receive our welcome visiters. After considerable difficulty, on account of the surf, they effected a landing, and were greeted by us with the warmest grat.i.tude. The vessel, we were told, was the Medusa, South Seaman, and had been out from England nearly two years; they had observed my flag some time before they hove to, and at first thought it had been left there by some former ship, as there were no settlers on the island at the time; but they fortunately saw me through their gla.s.ses, and determined upon landing.

The evening was closing in cloudy and threatening, the surf was beginning to run high, and everything indicated bad weather.

"Come, be quick!" said the captain of the Medusa, who was in the boat; "jump in, we've no time to lose; there's a gale coming on, and I wouldn't wait two minutes longer for the world."

As we were struggling through the heavy surf, a sudden roll of the boat threw me overboard, and in a moment I was swept some distance towards the beach. I swam for the sh.o.r.e immediately, as I knew it was in vain to attempt reaching the boat again, or to hope that they would risk their own lives, or the safety of the ship, by longer delay. I was an excellent swimmer, and reached sh.o.r.e in safety, where I had the mortification of seeing the Medusa make sail, and haul off the land. I comforted myself, however, with the reflection, that Emily Neville was in safety, and that, if the captain of the Medusa was a _Christian_, he would return to take me off the island. That night a heavy gale of wind came on from the north-west and a constant succession of stormy changes of wind and calm followed for some time. In about a month, a sail hove in sight; it was the Medusa! Oh, how delighted I was, once more to feel a solid plank under my foot! I felt myself at home once more when I touched her deck, and asked for Emily Neville. She was gone! The Medusa had fallen in with a Cape trader, and Miss Neville had taken a pa.s.sage on board of her to the Cape, from whence she meant to proceed to England. Imagine my disappointment! For two months longer we beat about in these lat.i.tudes in the Medusa, and then, our cargo being completed, we shaped our course homewards. On my arrival in England, I went to my old friend, Darcy, who provided me with the needful, and I am now so far on my way home. You tell me I have gained a fortune; but I have lost the only girl I ever loved, and without her fortune is valueless.

I did what I could to comfort Musgrave, but he would not be comforted.

Next morning he proceeded on his journey. A short time afterwards, there appeared in the papers the following announcement--"Arrival in the river, the Proserpine, from the Cape. The vessel has on board one of the survivors of the wreck of the ship Anne, which foundered at sea some months since, the lady was saved in one of the ship's boat, and taken off the island of Tristan d'Acunha by the Medusa whaler."

I immediately wrote to Musgrave, congratulating him on this happy event; and received an answer in the course of a few weeks, telling me that he was now amply repaid for his past dangers and disappointment; for Emily Neville had consented to become his wife, and to share with him the bounties, as she had before partaken with him of the harsher dispensations, of Providence.

THE RED HALL; OR, BERWICK IN 1296.

Somewhat more than five hundred years ago, and Berwick-upon-Tweed was the most wealthy and flourishing city in Great Britain. Its commerce was the most extensive, its merchants the most enterprising and successful. London in some measure strove to be its rival, but it possessed not a tenth of the natural advantages, and Berwick continued to bear the palm alone--being styled the Alexandria of the nations, the emporium of commerce, and one of the first commercial cities of the world. This state of prosperity it owed almost solely to Alexander III., who did more for Berwick than any sovereign that has since claimed its allegiance. He brought over a colony of wealthy Flemings, for whom he erected an immense building, called the Red Hall (situated where the wool market now stands), and which at once served as dwelling-houses, factories, and a fortress. The terms upon which he granted a charter to this company of merchants were, that they should defend, even unto death, their Red Hall against every attack of an enemy, and of the English in particular. Wool was the staple commodity of their commerce, but they also traded extensively in silks and in foreign manufactures. The people of Berwick understood FREE TRADE in those days. In this state of peace and enviable prosperity it continued till the spring of 1296. The bold, the crafty, and revengeful Edward I. meditated an invasion of Scotland; and Berwick, from its wealth, situation, and importance, was naturally antic.i.p.ated to be the first object of his attack. To defeat this, Baliol--whom we can sometimes almost admire, though generally we despise and pity him--sent the chief men of Fife and their retainers to the a.s.sistance of the town. Easter week arrived, but no tidings were heard of Edward's movements, and business went on with its wonted bustle.

Amongst the merchants of the Red Hall was one known by the appellation of William the Fleming, and he had a daughter, an heiress and an only child, whose beauty was the theme of Berwick's minstrels, when rhyme was beginning to begin. Many a knee was bent to the rich and beautiful Isabella; but she preferred the humble and half-told pa.s.sion of Francis Scott, who was one of the clerks in the Red Hall, to all the chivalrous declarations of prouder lovers. Francis possessed industry and perseverance; and these, in the eyes of her father, were qualifications precious as rubies. These, with love for his daughter, overcome other mercenary objections, and the day for their marriage had arrived. Francis and Isabella were kneeling before the altar, and the priest was p.r.o.nouncing the service, the merchant was gazing fondly over his child, when a sudden and hurried peal from the Bell Tower broke upon the ceremony, and cries of "The English! to arms!" were heard from the street. The voice of the priest faltered--he stopped; William the Fleming placed his hand upon his sword; the bridegroom started to his feet, and the fair Isabella clung to his side. "Come, children," said the merchant, "let us to the Hall--a happier hour may bless your nuptials--this is no moment for bridal ceremony." And in silence, each man grasping his sword, they departed from the chapel, where the performance of the marriage rites was broken by the sounds of invasion. The ramparts were crowded with armed citizens, and a large English fleet was seen bearing round Lindisfarne. In a few hours the hostile vessels entered the river, and commenced a furious attack upon the town. Their a.s.sault was returned by the inhabitants as men who were resolved to die for liberty. For hours the battle raged, and the Tweed became as a sheet of blood. But while the conflict rose fiercest, again the Bell Tower sent forth its sounds of death. Edward, at the head of thirty-five thousand chosen troops, had crossed the river at Coldstream, and was now seen encamping at the foot of Halidon Hill. Part of his army immediately descended upon the town, to the a.s.sistance of his fleet. They commenced a resolute attack from the north, while the greater part of the garrison held b.l.o.o.d.y combat with the ships in the river. Though thus attacked upon both sides, the besieged fought with the courage of surrounded lions, and the proud fleet was defeated and driven from the river. The attacks of the army were desperate, but without success, for desperate were the men who opposed them. Treachery, however, that to this day remains undiscovered, existed in the town; and, at an hour when the garrison thought not, the gates were deceitfully opened, and the English army rushed like a torrent upon the streets. Wildly the work of slaughter began. With the sword and with the knife, the inhabitants defended every house, every foot of ground. Mild mothers and gentle maidens fought for their thresholds with the fury of hungry wolves--and delicate hands did deeds of carnage. The war of blood raged from street to street, while the English army poured on like a ceaseless stream. Shouts, groans, the clang of swords, and the shrieks of women mingled together. Fiercer grew the close and the deadly warfare; but the numbers of the besieged became few. Heaps of dead men lay at every door, each with his sword glued to his hands by the blood of an enemy.