They say that Hope is happiness.
But genuine Love must prize the past;
And memory wakes the thoughts that bless—
They rose the first—they set the last.
Byron.
The surprise of Don Manuel and Francisca was unbounded, when they saw De
Vere and Clara return, though their fears were relieved by seeing they
were both in good health; and soon as the old Don had learned the
dangers through which they passed, he embraced Clara again and again,
and vowed that as long as he lived, neither of his children should ever
again leave him; “for both of you, the first time either has left me,
have been exposed to the most imminent perils, and wonderfully have both
been rescued by the courage and gallantry of the same individual,” and
asked Clara how she now liked Willis.
Francisca at this question changed color, to even a paler white than she
had been before, and looked eagerly toward her sister as she replied;
and sweeter than music was it to the gentle Francisca to hear her
haughty sister, who had formerly said so many hard things against the
slaver captain, now give utterance to nothing but praises and
compliments, and such opinions as a fond girl would best like to hear
spoken of the one she loved.
More pleasant dreams had Francisca that night than ever before blessed
her pillow; and she chid the morning light for breaking the images of
her fancy, and bringing back to her remembrance that Willis was, she
knew not where; and that though she knew now no opposition would be
offered by her family to his visiting the house, she might never again
see him.
Don Velasquez felt so grateful to Willis for thus having saved his other
daughter, and her husband, when he knew the trouble that husband had
taken to bring him who thus delivered them to the gallows, that he was
determined this time to try at once to show his gratitude and respect
for Willis, and hastening, with De Vere, down to the harbor, chartered a
steamboat to pursue the schooner and try to overtake her before she got
far from the coast.
Plying the firemen and engineers plentifully with money, that most
powerful stimulant, to increased exertion, the old Don soon had a fine
head of steam on the boat, and promising a large reward to the captain
of the steamer, if he succeeded in overtaking the schooner; the
“Aguila,” went puffing out to sea, at a rate altogether new to her, and
one that astonished the numerous lookers-on from the shore, who thought
nothing less than a government dispatch could have need of such speed.
“How shall we steer, sir?” asked the captain of the Aguila of Don
Manuel, as soon as they were clear of the light-house; but he was at a
loss how to answer, and had to ask De Vere; he thinking Willis would go
again to the coast, told them to hold to the eastward; and though they
were on the right track, and still kept the steamer at the top of her
speed, the Maraposa had too much the start of them; and after holding on
for twenty-four hours, they were obliged to return without success.
“Twice, now,” said Don Manuel, “has Willis done me the greatest service
that one man can do another, and neither time have I been able to repay
him; but I now declare, that, if I ever meet him again, I will give him
a hundred thousand dollars, and at least have the satisfaction of
knowing he will be comfortable the rest of his life, without having to
expose himself in his present dangerous calling; and I am certain he
would adorn any circle in society.”
To this De Vere assented, and hoped they both would soon have an
opportunity of seeing him. When De Vere and his father-in-law returned
home, both the ladies were disappointed that they returned alone—they
had been certain the steamer would overtake the schooner.
De Vere remained some ten days, or a fortnight, quietly in Havana,
recruiting, after his late excitements, and receiving the
congratulations of his numerous acquaintances, on his fortunate escape,
before he mentioned to Don Velasquez, his intention of again starting to
England.
The old Spaniard was surprised; for now that De Vere had no vessel, he
could see no reason why he could not just as well write as go himself;
and begged him to do so, and resign his commission.
This De Vere was not willing to do, and told his father-in-law if he did
resign, it would be more necessary for him now to return personally than
if he still had his brig, for that now it touched his honor that he
should give to the admiralty an account of the manner in which the
Scorpion had been lost.
Finding De Vere was determined to go, Don Manuel thought this would be a
good time to put in execution a project, of which he had been thinking
ever since the death of his wife, but had put it off from time to time,
waiting until his daughters were settled. It was to revisit his native
land, Spain, which he had never seen since he first left it in his
youth. And rather than let Clara go away from him again, he determined,
if De Vere would accompany him, to go now, and after visiting Madrid,
the place of his birth, to proceed to England with De Vere.
This arrangement was readily agreed to by the Englishman. Clara, too,
was delighted when she heard of it; and Francisca was the only one of
the household that was not pleased at the thought. Even the old duenna
was in raptures; but Francisca thought it would be placing even a
greater distance between herself and Willis, and was sad. But Spain had
been the dream-land of her youth; and she had, in years gone by, so
often expressed a desire to visit that land of the romantic and
picturesque, that now she was compelled to appear pleased as well as the
rest.
Fortunately for Don Manuel, there was a large and splendid new Spanish
merchantman in port, taking in sugar for Cadiz, and the captain told him
he would be ready to sail in a week. Velasquez engaged the whole of her
cabin for himself and family; and when the ship was ready to sail, they
were all on board, and bidding adieu to Havana for a time, they were
soon on the trackless main.
Again Clara gazed at the fast fading heights of her beautiful native
isle—but with what different feelings; now she had all her family with
her, and was leaving none behind; and even if she should be again
wrecked, death itself would not be half so awful where they could all
die together; and her heart was light and buoyant.
But Francisca, though she endeavored to look cheerful, could not
suppress the tears that rose fast and unbidden to her beautiful eyes,
and over-running them, would trickle slowly down her cheek.
“What ails you, sister mine?” said Clara. “Are you crying for some gay
Habenero you are leaving behind you? Cara mia! dry your eyes! You will
find beaux as plenty as stars in the bright land to which we are going!
And if you don’t like the Castilians, I will get you a fair, handsome
Englishman, like my husband! only not quite so good-looking, when we get
to Albion’s Isle!”
This, though said in jest, came near touching the source of Francisca’s
tears, though the object was Willis! and not a Havanarian! and she
replied, as she brushed away her tears,
“Did you not cry, and feel sad, when you, for the first time, saw the
hills of your beloved home sinking from your sight?”
“Oh yes! yes!” answered Clara; “and I wont plague you any, if you
promise me not to cry more than an hour!”
Francisca soon dried her eyes, and in the company of her father, sister,
and De Vere, in a fine ship, and with a good breeze, she, and all, had
every prospect of a speedy and happy voyage to the shores of Spain.
Leaving them to pursue their way, let us once more rejoin the Maraposa,
and see the fortunes that befell her in her trial again to make a final
voyage to Africa.