Roxburghshire, who, on his death-bed, left his boy to the care and
protection of my maternal uncle. It was impossible to live long in Tom's
company without loving him. He was frank, daring, and active--a stranger
to fear, and yet gentle and affectionate in the extreme; and when I add
to this, that he was one of the handsomest youths ever beheld, can it be
wondered at that he was an object of favour and admiration to all our
village belles? Tom, however, laughed and joked, and talked sentiment
with them all; but his heart remained untouched--his _time_ had not yet
come: and it was with a merry heart, and pleasant anticipations of the
future, that he took his seat beside me on the coach that was to convey
us to London. I will pass over our first impressions of all the
novelties we saw and heard there: suffice it to say, that the
consciousness of being among strangers and aliens made us cling with the
fonder warmth to each other; and every voyage we made together only
served to strengthen the ties of our mutual regard. Years had passed by,
and we had both risen gradually, though slowly, in our profession, and
had always contrived to get appointed to the same ship. The last voyage
we sailed together, I was fourth, and Tom fifth, mate of the Cornwallis,
Indiaman; and we were both in the same watch. Every one acquainted with
board-ship affairs knows how perfectly compatible the greatest intimacy
and familiarity are with the strictest discipline; and how habitually
and instantaneously the frankness of friendly intercourse gives place to
the formality of nautical etiquette, whenever the duty of the ship
requires their alternation. Tom and I were like brothers; but he never
forgot that he was my junior officer, and never by any chance took
advantage of my friendship for him by ill-timed familiarity. One fine
moonlight night, we were lying becalmed within the tropics, whistling
and invoking St Antonio in vain, for no breeze came. Beautiful are those
calm tropical nights to the lovers of the picturesque, though sadly
trying to the patience of the mariner. The _watch_ were all lying in
various attitudes about the decks in deep slumber; the helmsman was
standing at his post--but whether asleep or awake was of little
consequence, for the rudder was powerless; there was not a cloud in the
dark blue sky, and the moon and stars were shining with almost dazzling
brightness, and looking provokingly placid and happy; the surface of the
sea was smooth as the smoothest glass, and in its undulating mirror gave
back a vivid reflection of the brilliant canopy above; there was a long
silvery path of light from the horizon to the ship; and the scene was
altogether uncommonly beautiful, and uncommonly provoking to the officer
of the watch. And there, in the midst of all the splendour and beauty
of nature, lay our noble ship, one of the finest specimens of man's
proud art, helpless and powerless as a new-born babe--rolling, and
tossing, and tumbling about--her lofty prow rising and falling as if
doing homage to the majesty of ocean; while the moon and stars seemed to
smile in quiet scorn at her unwieldy movements. Oh, the tedium and
weariness of a calm night-watch at sea!--the anxious look around and
aloft, to see if any _cat's-paw_ is ruffling the water, or if any stray
air has found its way into the _flying-kites_; the low, impatient
whistle; and the common but unintelligible and unaccountable ejaculation
of "Blow, good breeze, and I'll give you a soldier!" Bertram was
standing at the gangway, with his arm and head resting on the rail, and
muttering to himself. I approached him just in time to hear--
"For then sweet dreams of other days arise,
And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee."
"Ah, Tom, sentimentalising? I have some hopes of you now. Who is the
object of your vesper sigh, if it is a fair question?--which of the
thousand-and-one flowers in your garden of love has left the memory of
its fragrancy in your heart?"
"Nonsense, Harry," said he, colouring; "I have something else to do than
to pine and sigh for a lady's love. What a lovely night it is!"
"Yes," said I--"lovely enough for a high-flying, sentimental lover, but
anything but pleasing to a plain, straight-forward fellow like myself.
But, joking apart, Tom, you have not been yourself this voyage; you go
through your duties actively enough, it is true, but evidently quite
mechanically. Your heart is elsewhere. Do not be afraid of making me
your confidant--I will not betray you; trust your secret sorrow,
whatever it may be, to _me_; if I cannot assist, I can at all events
sympathise with you."
"Thank you kindly, Harry," said he--"I believe you from my heart. You
have made a right guess for once in your life. I _am_ in love."
"Well, make a clean breast of it at once, and tell me who your Dulcinea
is; that, if I have the felicity of her acquaintance, we may hold
eloquent discourse of her charms together."
"Well, Harry, you remember Miss ----"
"Holloa! there's a breeze coming at last--beg your pardon, Tom," said I,
springing up on the poop for a better view; and there it was, sure
enough, coming up on the larboard quarter, with a cool, fresh, rippling
sound, roughening the surface of the swell before it.
"Forecastle there!"
"Sir?" replied Tom.
"Rig out the foretopmast and topgallant-studdingsail booms, Mr Bertram,
and bear a hand with the sails."
"Ay, ay, sir."
"Maintop there!--rig out the topgallant-studdingsail boom!"
"Ay, ay, sir."
"All ready with the stunsails forward, sir," cried Bertram.
"Very well. Forward there the watch!--run the stunsails up. Forecastle
there!--swing the lower boom!"
"Ay, ay, sir."
In twenty minutes the ship was under a cloud of canvas, and moving
rapidly through the water, the ropes were all coiled down, and the watch
again on their beam-ends.
"Stea-dy!" called the quartermaster.
"Steady it is!" answered the man at the helm.
"I told you so, Bill," muttered one of the afterguard to his
neighbour--"I knowed as how we'd have a breeze when I throwed my old
shoe overboard."
"Now, Tom," said I, "make an end of your confession. You asked me if I
remembered Miss----what's her name?"
"Kate Fotheringham."
If a thunderbolt had fallen at my feet, it could hardly have startled me
more than did the unexpected mention of that name. I _felt_ myself turn
pale--the blood seemed to creep and curdle in my veins, and a sensation
of mortal sickness and faintness came over me.
Tom observed my emotion, and exclaimed, in great alarm--
"Harry, how ill you look! What is the matter with you?"
"Nothing," said I--"a sudden spasm--but it is gone."
And, with desperate resolution, I gulped down the emotion which almost
choked my utterance, and listened with patience while Tom proceeded,
with all a lover's enthusiasm, to expatiate upon the charms of his
mistress. He had so long confined his feelings to his own bosom, that,
when he gave them free vent, their sudden and torrent-like out-pouring
was almost overwhelming. Rapidly and fervidly did he depict his first
sensations; glowingly and fondly did he dwell upon the personal charms
and mental amiabilities of his adored one; and, in _burning_ words, he
expressed his happiness in the certainty that he was beloved again.
Alas, poor fellow! he little knew that every kind expression of his
mistress went like a dagger to the heart of his friend! And yet so it
was; for, in the innermost recesses of my heart, hidden from all mortal
knowledge save my own, I had enshrined an idol--and that idol was Kate
Fotheringham. 'Tis true, I had bowed before it in vain. I had offered up
to her the incense of my first love; it had filled the temple, but made
no impression upon the divinity. My love was hopeless, but constant. But
it is necessary that I should explain myself; and to do so I must go
back.
The Rev. Thomas Fotheringham was minister of the Parish of L----, and
the father of two beauteous daughters, of whom Kate was the youngest.
She was indeed a lovely creature--full of life and animation, sparkling
and joyous; her complexion was delicately brilliant, and her bright blue
eyes shot forth their playful glances from the covert of the most
beautiful flaxen ringlets in the world. When she shook back her hair
from her forehead, and her laugh,
"Without any control
But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her soul,"
and displayed teeth of pearly whiteness, she was indeed a thing to be
wondered at and admired.
Mr Fotheringham had been an intimate friend of my father, and I had gone
to spend a few weeks at L---- Manse, on my last return home. When I had
seen Kate some years before, she was a pretty, interesting child, and
used, in her playfulness, to call me her sailor husband: how great was
my surprise, when I met her again, to find the playful child transformed
into the tall, graceful, elegant woman! It was impossible to see Kate
Fotheringham without admiring her beauty: I soon found that it was
impossible to know her without loving her. She was as good as she was
lovely, and was almost adored by the poor of the parish, to whom she was
like a ministering angel. Her great delight was in distributing food and
clothing to the poor and needy; and her sweet smile and soothing tone of
sympathy were balm to the melancholy mourner, and to the bruised and
broken spirit. Was it wonderful that, living as I did in the most
friendly intimacy with such a being, listening to her praises from all
quarters, hearing the sweet music of her voice as she warbled the simple
melodies of her native land--was it wonderful that I loved her? Yes! I
more than loved her. Love is too tame, too commonplace a term for my
feelings. I adored her--I bowed my heart before her very footsteps: but
I felt that I was not loved again. The very frankness and innocent
familiarity of her manner towards me, while it fascinated, maddened me;
for I knew that I was wilfully deceiving myself; that she looked upon me
as a friend--a brother--nothing more. Fool that I was!--knowing all
this--knowing, in my own secret heart, that every day, every hour, I was
only storing up bitterness for myself--I still fluttered round the flame
that was consuming me. At last, one evening, my long-suppressed feelings
burst forth. Some expression of Kate acted as a spark to the train of
passion that was lying smouldering within my breast, and----I know not
what I said--but my heart was in the words; I only know that I was
miserable. Kate was agitated, surprised, and affected. She esteemed and
admired me, she said; but her heart was not her own. We parted with
mutual sorrow, and with a promise, on her part, never to mention the
occurrences of that evening; and with a determination on mine to smother
my feelings, and with firm resolve to tear her image from my heart for
ever. Weak and vain resolution!--that image will go with me to my grave.
Tom went on to tell me that he had gone, with my uncle, his guardian, on
a visit to L----, three years before, and that he had not been long
domesticated there before he felt the influence of those charms which
had proved so fatal to my peace. He was the constant companion of the
young ladies in all their rambles, had witnessed their various deeds of
unostentatious charity and benevolence, and was in the habit of
listening with pleasure to the warm and unsophisticated praises lavished
upon them by every dependant and cottager around them. His heart had
hitherto resisted the fascinations of beauty, and he had learned to look
upon it as a "pretty plaything," accompanied, as he had hitherto seen
it, with superficial accomplishments and frivolous employment. But here
was all his fancy had ever pictured of female loveliness and amiability
combined; and he felt that, with such a companion, he might reasonably
expect to realise his brightest dreams of mundane happiness. He
consulted my uncle, who had always loved him as a son, and who intended
him to be his heir; and laying before him the state of his affections,
told him that he waited but for his consent to prosecute his suit. My
uncle was delighted with his confession, and with the object of his
choice, and gave him his consent and blessing; at the same time giving
him to understand that Kate should not marry a beggar. Kate's heart,
almost unconsciously to herself, had long been his; and she was too
frank and artless to attempt to veil it from him when he made his
proposals. It was agreed that their marriage was to take place when he
returned from his next voyage, and that, in the meantime, their
engagement was to be kept secret.
Oh, how I had envied my happy rival! How often had I longed, with eager
curiosity, to see the man who had gained the heart of such a glorious
creature! And now he stood before me--the dearest friend of my heart,
from whom I had never had but one concealment--he whom I had loved as a
brother, and watched over with more than a brother's love--was the being
who, unconsciously, stood between me and happiness--who had blighted and
withered the fondest aspirations of my heart. Oh, the conflict of
feelings within me! Had he but confided in me sooner, what misery might
he not have spared me! Thank Heaven! friendship and justice conquered at
last. I resolved to keep my secret, though my heart should break; his
knowledge of it could not benefit me, but would only distress and grieve
him, and, perhaps, cast a cloud over that friendship which was now the
chief remaining solace of my life. It was with a smiling face,
therefore, but with an aching bosom, that I shook hands with Tom that
night; and well did I keep my secret, for he died in ignorance of it.
As we were going into the mess-berth next morning to breakfast, we met
Ben, the servant, looking as grave as an owl, with a face as long as the
maintop-bowline.
"What's the matter, Ben?" said Tom.
"O sir! we'll soon know what's the matter: the cow died this morning!"
Tom burst into a roar of laughter, and asked what that had to do with
his long face.
"It's no laughing matter, sir," said the man; "I never knew any good
come to a ship when the cow died: but we'll see before long."
We were both much amused at the man's newfangled superstition, as we
thought it, as we had never before heard of this.
"I have been told a story," said I, "of a cat influencing the destinies
of a ship, but I never heard a cow so highly honoured before."
"A cat!" said Tom--"what do you mean?"
"It's an old story," said I; "but, as you seem not to have heard it, I
will enlighten you on the subject:--
Some years since, one of His Majesty's crack frigates had greatly
distinguished herself, on the Mediterranean station, by the smartness
and activity of her crew, her state of excellent discipline, and her
great success in capturing prizes. For some time her good fortune seemed
to have deserted her; day after day passed away, and not a _tangible_
sail was to be seen; the time began to hang heavy on the hands of the
crew, and discontent and disappointment were legible in their
countenances. This state of things could not last long. The captain, a
good and gallant seaman, perceived that the spirit of disaffection was
busy among his crew, and determined to check it in the bud.
"Call the hands out, if you please, Mr Steady," said he to the first
lieutenant.
The hands were called out; and when assembled on the quarterdeck, the
captain addressed them to the following effect:--
"My lads, you used to be as active and cheerful a set of fellows as I
would wish to command; I used to be proud of you, for you seemed to take
pleasure in your duty; but now you go about the decks sullen and
discontented, and only work because you dare not disobey. If you have
any grievances to complain of, come forward like men and say so, and I
will redress them, if I can; but I tell you, once for all, I will have
no sulkiness; and by Heaven! if I can't drive it out of you in any other
way, I'll flog it out of you."
After a short pause, one of the captains of the forecastle stepped out
from the crew, and twirling his hat in one hand and scratching the back
of his ear with the other, said--
"Please your honour, we haven't no grievances.'
"Then what the devil's the matter with you all?"
"Why, sir----" said the man, hesitatingly.
"Go on," said the captain--"I won't bite you."
"Why, then, sir," replied the captain of the forecastle, "we've never
had no luck since you took that 'ere black cat on board."
The captain could not help laughing. "Well," said he, "that evil can
soon be remedied. Midshipman, tell my steward to throw the cat
overboard."
"O sir!" said the man, in great alarm, "do not throw him overboard--that
would be worser still."
"Then, what the deuce do you want me to do with him?"
"Why, if your honour would send him ashore as he came aboard, in a
boat."
"What a set of cursed ninnies!" muttered the captain. "Well," said he,
"you have often exerted yourselves to please me, and it is but fair that
I should do something to please you for once in a way."
The frigate stood in shore, and hove to, a boat was lowered, and the
unlucky cat, safely deposited in a bread-bag, was sent under charge of
a midshipman to be landed at the nearest point. The boat returned in due
time, and was hoisted up, the sails were filled and trimmed, when the
man at the mast-head hailed the deck--
"A strange sail in sight ahead, sir!"
"All hands make sail in chase!" was the cry; and, before night, the
cat-haters had taken a valuable prize.
"A strange coincidence, certainly," said Tom, "and most unfortunately
calculated to strengthen the men in their superstition. I hope we shall
have no such confirmation of Ben's panic about the cow."
We had a glorious breeze that morning on the quarter; the long swell,
which had been so smooth and glassy the day before, was broken into
short waves, which came rushing, and curling, and bursting under the
ship's counter; the sky was covered with light mackerel clouds; every
stitch of canvas we could carry was spread; the sails were all asleep,
and the ship snoring through the water;--there was every appearance of a
steady breeze, and of continued fine weather. A little after mid-day,
the captain came on deck, and said to the officer of the watch, "Mr
Freeman, what do you think of the weather?"
Mr Freeman, with a look of surprise, replied, "I never saw a finer day,
sir; and there is every appearance of a steady breeze."
"Well," said he, "that's my opinion too; yet the glass is falling
rapidly. I do not understand it. Send for Mr Sneerwell." And the chief
mate made his appearance. He agreed in thinking that there was no sign
of change in the weather.
"Well," said the captain, "my glass has never deceived me yet, and I
will believe it now against my own opinion, and in spite of favourable
appearances. You will pipe to dinner, if you please; and, when the
people have had their time, call the hands out to shorten sail."
"Ay, ay, sir! Pipe to dinner!"
The breeze began gradually to freshen; and, by the time we had swallowed
our dinner, we were glad to get our stunsails and lofty sails in as fast
as possible. A small dark cloud had appeared on the weather-beam, which
gradually spread and spread, till the whole heaven was covered with an
ominous darkness, and the wind increased so rapidly that there was
barely time to execute the orders which followed each other in quick
succession from the quarterdeck. Before one reef was taken in in the
topsails, it was time to take in another; the courses were reefed, the
mainsail furled, the topgallantyards sent on deck. Before midnight, we
were under reefed foresail and close-reefed driver; and, before the
morning watch, were hove to under stormstaysails. Tom had exerted
himself greatly during the gale; and, when aloft in the maintop, had
been struck on the temple by one of the points of the topsail which was
shaking in the wind while reefing. The blow, though from so small a
rope, had stunned him; and, when he recovered, he was obliged to be
assisted down to his cot, where the doctor took a good quantity of blood
from him. About this time, an epidemic disorder had shown itself among
the crew, which spread rapidly, and in a short time our sick list
amounted to six or seven-and-twenty. At first, the disease was not
fatal; but, after a time, death followed in its footsteps, and the
mortality became quite alarming and dispiriting to the survivors of the
crew. The only officer who was seized with the disorder was my friend
Tom, who had hardly recovered from the weakening effect of loss of
blood, and whose constitution had been much shaken by severe illness
abroad. Long and doubtful was the struggle between life and death; but
at length the crisis of the disease was over, and he began slowly to
recover. Oh! how often did I vow, while watching by his sick-bed, and
bathing his burning hands and brow, never again to go to sea with one
for whom I felt more than a common regard! I thought it would be almost
better to renounce the communion of intimate friendship altogether, than
again to expose myself to the risk of such grief as I now felt in the
prospect of losing my friend. Tom did no more duty for the remainder of
the passage of five weeks, and was still very feeble when we arrived in
the Downs. During that time, however, he used often to come on deck in
my watch; and, if there were no particular ship's duty going on, we
indulged in long conversations about the past, and in pleasant
anticipations of the future. But, on whatever topic our conversations
might commence, they always ended in the same subject--L---- Manse and
its inmates. Kate Fotheringham, Kate Fotheringham, was the everlasting
theme of Tom's tongue; even if I had never seen her, I might almost have
painted her picture from his vivid descriptions of her.
"You forget, Tom," I have often said, "that I have seen this paragon of
yours; you need not give me such a minute description of her."
"You _have_ seen her, Harry! I _always_ see her; her image is in my
heart. It is out of the fulness of my heart that my mouth speaks. Oh!
let me talk of her--the very sound of her name is like music to my ear.
Kate, Kate Fotheringham--is it not a sweet name, Harry?"
"The name is pretty enough; but, my dear fellow, you are allowing your
passion to run away with your senses altogether. For her sake, as well
as your own, you must endeavour to restrain the violence of your
feelings, which, in the present enfeebled state of your health, might
produce fatal effects."
"Fatal!" said he--"nothing can be fatal to me as long as Kate
Fotheringham's love remains to me. But, oh Harry! if I were to lose
that, what would become of me?"
I was alarmed and distressed by the depth and violence of Tom's
emotions; but I thought it better to allow him to express them
unreservedly, than to run the risk of adding to their intensity, by
endeavouring to check and repress them. Among other plans for the
future, he dwelt with much pleasure upon the prospect of giving our
friends at L---- an agreeable surprise, by coming upon them
unexpectedly, before they had heard of our arrival in England.
Circumstances favoured us in this project. Our passage had been a quick
one; and, the wind favouring us after we had passed the Downs, we ran
right up the river at once. In consequence of our unexpectedly early
arrival, there were no letters awaiting us; but we were not anxious on
that score, as our last accounts were favourable. The day after our
arrival at Blackwall, we obtained leave of absence, and set off (under
the rose) for the north. When we arrived at the nearest town to L----,
we left the coach, intending to hire a chaise or gig to take us on to
the manse; but there had been a run on the road that day, and there was
no conveyance to be obtained. Tom's mortification was extreme. I wished
to remain till next day; but his impatience prevented his listening to
reason.
"It's only a few miles, Harry! We can walk."
"In your present state," said I, "such an exertion may be prejudicial to
you."
"I see you don't like to stretch your legs, Harry. I will go by myself;
you can follow to-morrow!"
I had nothing further to say; so we ordered our baggage to be sent after
us, and set off together. When we arrived near L----, instead of
following the sweep of the road, and crossing the river by the bridge,
by way of a short cut, we struck across the fields, and waded the
stream. The moon was shining brightly, and the whole scene was flooded
with light. On the summit of a green bank, sloping down to the river,
lay the churchyard, near which stood the church, a venerable Gothic
building, shaded by old and solemn-looking trees, standing like
sentinels over the slumbers of the tomb. Our path to the manse lay
through the churchyard; and a feeling of sadness and of awe crept over
us, as we saw the cold beautiful moonlight resting on the well-known
graves of many of our early friends.
"Ah!" said I, "the churchyard has, at least, _one_ tenant more since our
departure. Whose can this handsome monument be?"
My eye glanced at the inscription, and a cold shudder came over me.
"Come on, Tom!" said I; "we have no time to dawdle here."
"Let me read this epitaph first."
"No, no," said I, trying to force him away. But it was too late--he had
seen enough: and with a cry of unutterable anguish, he fell fainting in
my arms. Poor Tom Bertram! Long years have passed, but that scene is
fresh in my memory--my heart bleeds for him still! I laid him gently on
the grass beside the tomb--the dying, as I thought, beside the dead. The
tears blinded my eyes, as I endeavoured to read the sad inscription on
the stone--"Sacred to the memory of Catherine, youngest daughter of the
Rev. Thomas Fotheringham, minister of this parish." The long panegyric
that followed--what had I to do with it then? I ran down to the river,
and bringing some water in my hat, I dashed it in Tom's face, and after
some time had the happiness to see him revive. He stared wildly at me,
and exclaimed--
"Where am I?--Harry!"
"Here I am, dear Tom!"
"Oh! I have had such a dream!" His eye-glance fell upon the
tomb.--"Merciful Heaven! is it true?" And leaning his head upon my
breast, while his face turned deadly pale, he gasped for breath. At
length, a burst of sorrow, such as I had seldom witnessed, relieved his
over-wrought feelings; he sobbed and wept as if his heart were flowing
out of him. I did not attempt to check or to console him; sorrow like
his was, in its first bitterness, too deep and withering for
consolation. Alas! I needed comfort for myself!