On that September morning, as the sun rose in unclouded glory, every man
of the heroic garrison of Gibraltar was at his post; every soldier and
sailor in the tremendous array of ships and batteries meant to
annihilate the fortress was ready for the assault; and uncounted
thousands of persons, both on sea and land, watched and waited to see
this terrible and unmatched bombardment.
At seven o'clock three hundred heavy guns on the land side opened fire
upon the Rock. Fifty ships of the line and the ten great floating
batteries, protected by bomb-proof shields, moved up to within a
thousand yards and poured their broadsides upon the fortress.
The garrison had less than a hundred guns to reply with, but these were
served with a steadiness and vigor that made them doubly effective. From
these guns were thrown red-hot shot, which were frightfully destructive
to the ships, but rolled harmlessly off the shields of the formidable
floating batteries into the water, from which clouds of steam arose to
mingle with the dense smoke that made the fair day dark. The thunder of
the guns was indescribable. The solid Rock itself seemed to roar and
tremble as it replied to the hurricane of shot and shell that rained
upon it. The huge ships fired broadside after broadside, while from the
isthmus the batteries were worked by ten thousand men. Soon, all below
the summit of the Rock became as black as midnight with the smoke, and
it was lighted by the red flames from the guns and the explosion of
magazines on land and sea. But high above all, serene in the light of
morning, floated the proud standard of England. As Archy Baskerville,
from the _Alceste's_ deck, watched the terrible and imposing sight of
war in all its majesty, he felt a thrill of pride that those six
thousand indomitable men were of the same blood as himself.
All day this hell of fire and fury lasted, and as night came on its
horrors were increased by the ships and floating batteries catching
fire. By that time the fortress had proved its impregnable nature, and
the superiority of its cannonade became manifest. One after another of
the ships caught fire from the red-hot shot, and by midnight, in spite
of the utmost efforts, the _Pastora_, Admiral Moreno's flagship, was
seen to be blazing from stem to stern. Other of the smaller vessels were
in flames, and as the day had been made dark by the smoke, so now the
blaze lighted up the whole bay with a frightful glare that was reflected
in the lurid heavens, while the Rock itself seemed a mountain on fire.
The hot shot had told with terrible effect on the Spanish fortifications
on the land side, and they were blazing in more than fifty places at
once. By midnight it had proved equally appalling upon the fleets and
floating batteries. Nearly every one of the smaller Spanish vessels was
on fire, and distress signals were seen in all parts of the bay. The
wind was adverse, and, with the powerful currents, was driving the ships
of the line away from the Rock, so they could be of no assistance in
saving these smaller vessels, which drifted about helplessly until the
fire reached their magazines, and then would be exploded with a
concussion that seemed to shake Gibraltar to its base. About two o'clock
in the morning the floating batteries, which were the chief hope of the
besiegers, were seen to be in disorder. It was then, by the fierce light
of battle, that Archy Baskerville, from the _Alceste's_ deck, recognized
Captain Curtis, as, in command of a few light gunboats, he put off from
the New Mole, and, rapidly forming a line upon the flank of the floating
batteries, drove them directly under the guns of the fortress. This was
their destruction, and the Spaniards abandoned them so quickly that
scores of wounded men were left aboard of them to perish in the flames.
Then Archy saw Captain Curtis in a cutter make for the blazing and
exploding boats, and with other officers and men drag forth the wounded,
who would otherwise have perished in the flames. Archy's heart swelled
almost to bursting.
"Oh, that I were there! that I were there!" he almost cried aloud, so
overpowering to the heart and the imagination is the sight of heroism.
At one moment the cutter was alongside a gunboat just as the magazine
blazed up. The whole vessel seemed to rise in the coppery sky and to
break into a million pieces before it descended. No one ever expected to
see the cutter and its heroic company again, but when the first horrible
shock and crash were over she was seen still afloat.
The dreadful night wore away and the dawn came on. Archy, who thought
that he had seen the most terrible sight in the world at the sinking of
the _Royal George_, now realized that there was something more dreadful
still. The bay was covered with wreckage, to which drowning men clung.
Dead bodies floated everywhere--the smell of powder and of blood was in
the murky air. On the land side it was, if anything, worse.
Fortifications were destroyed, guns were dismounted, the trenches were
encumbered with the dead and dying. It was then, when the full scene of
destruction was visible, that the hopelessness of the attack was seen.
The preparations that had been months in making had been tried and had
failed, and the flag of England still flew steadily over Gibraltar. As
if by common consent the tremendous cannonade ceased, and just as the
last gun was fired the first pale gleam of the sun shone upon the
British ensign, and from the Rock came borne a cry of triumph as the
salute was played.
Archy Baskerville, who had watched through the whole day and night, felt
a thrill of something strangely like joy at the success of the
indomitable garrison. He would have liked to echo that cry of triumph,
and it required all of his self-control not to do so; but he remembered
that he was on a ship of his allies, and, whatever his heart might feel,
he spoke no word that indicated the conflict of emotions within him.
The French officers were equally on their guard, but Archy, looking into
the faces near him on the _Alceste's_ deck, when that shout was wafted
towards them from the invincible fortress, saw that they had no more
hope. The fortress that could withstand the assault of the previous
twenty-four hours was impregnable.
By common consent there was peace on the day after this frightful
bombardment, and on that day Archy was permitted to go ashore, in the
effort to communicate with Langton.
The Duc de Crillon at once gave permission for him not only to
communicate with Langton, but to go inside the Landport gate. The most
generous relations were maintained during the whole time that General
Eliot and the Duc de Crillon were opposed to each other, and every favor
consistent with prudence was granted on each side.
At nightfall, therefore, Archy was taken to the Landport gate
blindfolded, and led inside the fortress, when presently he found
himself in a casemate, and there--oh, joy! were Langton and Captain
Curtis, both overjoyed to see him. But Langton was white and gasping for
breath, and as weak as a child.
"He has not yet recovered from his fever, though he worked like a hero
yesterday; but I think he will not be able to do any more during the
siege," said Captain Curtis.
Langton could only smile feebly, and ask eagerly after his mother and
sisters.
"But you must get well now, to be our grandfather's heir, because, I
assure you, he means to make you so," cried Archy, trying to be
cheerful, but feeling a sinking at the heart as he looked at Langton.
And then Archy declared he would not leave the fortress without a
glimpse of Mrs. Curtis and Dolly and Judkins. They were all sent for,
and there was a brief interview--too hurried for joy, but yet comforting
when Archy clasped their hands and felt Dolly's childish arms around his
neck. But, presently, like a dream, it was over, and he was once more
outside the walls.
Archy had formed a plan before he had seen Langton for five minutes, and
the very next day he carried it into effect. He got an audience with the
Duc de Crillon, and told him briefly the story of his relations with
Langton, and his forced imprisonment during a part of the siege, and
then, in a burst of frankness, he said:
"Pardon, sir, but Mr. Langton can be of no more service at Gibraltar. I
am almost afraid if released now that he will not live to return to
England; but if he could be released on parole--he seems almost dying
now--his mother--"
Archy stopped, and the Duc de Crillon, after a pause, turning to his
military secretary, said:
"Make out a parole for Midshipman Langton, of the Royal navy, and
address it to General Sir George Eliot, saying if, in his judgment, Mr.
Langton is a non-combatant now, and likely to remain so, that this
parole is at his service."
Archy tried to express his thanks, but his heart was too full for his
tongue to be glib. His very hesitation and embarrassment, however, were
not without their eloquence, and the Duc de Crillon did not for one
moment suspect him of a want of gratitude.
It still took some days to arrange the preliminaries, and Archy was
permitted to enter the fortress several times. He could scarcely believe
his eyes when he saw how little damage had been inflicted by the
greatest bombardment in history, and he could hardly believe his ears
when the slight loss sustained by the besieged was mentioned to him. One
thing appeared settled, that Gibraltar could never be taken by assault,
and that the Spanish and French commanders would make no further
efforts.
Archy, being plentifully supplied with money, through the assistance of
the Spanish authorities was enabled to get a small neutral vessel, which
agreed to take to England himself and Langton and a few other
non-combatants who were permitted to leave the fortress.
On the last day of September they embarked. At the Landport gate Archy
met Langton, looking frightfully ill, and supported by Captain Curtis
and Judkins, while Mrs. Curtis and Dolly walked behind. The kindest
farewells were exchanged.
"We will meet soon in England," said Archy; "the siege is over, the war
with my country is over, and as soon as Parliament meets a general peace
will be proclaimed. But, American as I am, I can never think of what I
saw at Gibraltar without being proud to be of the same race as the men
who defended it, and the women too."
At this, Dolly said, gravely:
"I love you, Archy, even if you are a rebel," which made them all laugh
and relieved the sadness of the parting.
Once on board the vessel and under a fair wind for home, Langton seemed
to take a new lease of life. Their quarters were cramped and their
discomforts many, but he was homeward bound, and that was enough. They
had a quick voyage to Gravesend, and taking post-horses for London,
arrived at Lord Bellingham's town house in Berkeley Square, and, the
first thing, Archy almost ran into Colonel Baskerville's arms.
"I have brought Langton himself back, instead of news concerning him,"
cried Archy, as soon as they were inside the doors; and the next moment
he heard a faint cry beside him. Mrs. Langton, her arms wide open, had
entered the room, and there Langton was in his mother's arms; and
Colonel Baskerville and Archy turned their backs and pretended to be
very busy talking, while the mother and son were in the first rapture of
meeting. And then Mary and Isabel rushed in, and laughed and cried as
they hugged Langton, and even condescended to be glad to see Archy; and
presently they were all marched off to Lord Bellingham's room, who was
to see, for the first time, the grandson for whom he destined a great
fortune and a brilliant future.
Langton was still pale and weak, but it only made his face more
interesting, and his bearing was still military.
Archy watched keenly the meeting between the old man and the young one.
Lord Bellingham's piercing glance travelled all over Langton's person,
and then wandered for a moment to Archy, who was, at all times, the
handsomer and the more spirited of the two. But Langton's calm dignity
and manly self-possession were not without their power, and even Lord
Bellingham had no reason to be dissatisfied with him. And now Archy,
having, as he justly thought, a right to express himself, indulged his
natural and incurable propensity for speaking his mind, and, looking
Lord Bellingham squarely in the eye, said:
"I hope, grandfather, you have now a grandson who will suit you in all
respects, and I only wish you could give Langton the title, as I don't
want it. By-the-way, sir, I hear that King George is preparing to back
down as gracefully as possible at the meeting of Parliament."
To which Lord Bellingham's reply was to say, good-humoredly:
"Grandson, you have earned the right to be impertinent."
Langton was immediately established in the position of heir-apparent,
and Lord Bellingham could scarcely allow him to recover from the
fatigues of his journey before sending for the family solicitor to make
his will. But Archy's position was far from unpleasant. He was a hero to
Langton and to Mrs. Langton, and in course of time actually subdued Mary
and Isabel, while Colonel Baskerville, who had always felt a deep
affection for him, became every day more attached to him. As for Lord
Bellingham, he seemed to find Archy a source of perpetual interest and
diversion, and although he gave no hint of intending to do more than
give him the promised two thousand pounds, it was plain that he was far
from indifferent to his American grandson. Archy had always taken
liberties, hitherto unheard of, with his grandfather, and so far from
producing explosions of temper, they only provoked the silent laughter
which was Lord Bellingham's way of showing amusement.
But Archy himself had undoubtedly improved. He was learning, by degrees,
to be frank without being disagreeable, to have his joke without
trampling upon the sensibilities of others, and to be considerate of the
faults and foibles of old age. In fact, his self-love became enlisted on
his grandfather's side, for, as Colonel Baskerville sometimes reminded
him, dryly:
"If you had been born a peer with a great rent-roll, I think you would
have been more domineering and dictatorial than Lord Bellingham."
There was still no love lost between Archy and his two girl cousins, but
their nimble tongues were silenced by Archy's generosity towards
Langton, who was the family darling. It must be admitted that Archy took
rather mean advantage of this, and when he received a long letter from
Paul Jones, the lives of Mary and Isabel were made miserable by his
chaff and jeers. Langton had to hear the whole story of their
infatuation for Paul Jones, which lost nothing in Archy's telling, and
made Langton laugh for a week; and when the letter by some untoward
accident was lost, Archy declined to be convinced that Mary and Isabel
had not cribbed it for a keepsake.
So several weeks passed in the gloomy old mansion, which Archy
disrespectfully called an old rattle-trap. But they were not gloomy
weeks to any one in it. For the first time in his life Lord Bellingham
was surrounded by those who should be nearest and dearest to him, and he
found life a very different and far pleasanter thing than when he had
been at war with his whole family. His daughter's kind attentions added
to his comfort, and his four handsome grandchildren were a source of
infinite pride to him--and pride meant pleasure to Lord Bellingham.
Parliament was to meet on the 5th of December, and Lord Bellingham
determined to attend in his peer's robes and coronet, according to the
custom of the times.
The day was dull and gloomy outside, but Archy Baskerville thought it
the happiest and brightest day that had ever yet shone upon him, for the
King, in his speech from the throne, was to acknowledge the independence
of the American colonies.
About ten o'clock on that morning the family coach was at the door, and
Colonel Baskerville, Archy, and Langton awaited Lord Bellingham to drive
to the House of Lords. When he appeared in his scarlet robes, and
carrying his coronet in his hand, something very like a smile appeared
upon the countenances of his brother and his two grandsons. Archy
mentally congratulated himself that he would never have to appear in
such a rig, and even whispered as much to Langton. Lord Bellingham was
in a very bad humor as the result of his trailing robes and troublesome
coronet, but nothing could damp Archy's enthusiasm.
"We shall be mobbed," fretfully exclaimed Lord Bellingham. "This young
gentleman here will probably begin huzzaing out of the coach window for
the colonies, and God knows what will befall us then!"
"I'll take care of all of you, grandfather," magnanimously declared
Archy, which only increased the Earl's irritation, and Archy proceeded
to fan the flame by remarking that he supposed the King, too, was in a
very bad humor that morning.
And so he was. When, amid a death-like stillness in the House of Lords,
the King rose to read his speech to Parliament assembled, he gave every
indication of agitation and embarrassment. He proceeded falteringly
until he announced the cessation of the American war, and then,
attempting to utter the sentence, "I offer to declare them free and
independent States," he broke down completely, and, after a painful and
agitated silence, with a distressing effort read the fateful words.
Archy was squeezed in a corner of the gallery close by Colonel
Baskerville, who kept a keen watch upon him to check any characteristic
outbreak of enthusiasm, and was actually enabled to prevent it until the
tedious but imposing proceedings were over. Outside the Houses of
Parliament a vast crowd was assembled. There were a few cheers for the
King's speech, but most of the multitude accepted the tremendous event
in solemn silence. As Archy came out with the surging crowd he suddenly
shouted out a long and loud "Huzza!" but the next moment Colonel
Baskerville had clapped his hand over Archy's mouth, had hustled him
into the coach, and they were driving off, Lord Bellingham scowling in
the corner seat. But Langton, shaking Archy's hand cordially, cried out:
"Congratulations, Archy. We shall yet live to glory in our kin beyond
the sea."
* * * * *
Ten years after that, one Christmas Eve, a new and handsome equipage
dashed into the village of Bellingham about dusk. As the coachman pulled
up the horses, the footman jumped down, threw open the door, and let
down the steps. Forth stepped Langton, now a handsome man of
eight-and-twenty, and after him came Colonel Baskerville, not looking a
day older than on that November afternoon, ten years before, when he had
travelled from York with the young American midshipman, quite
unconscious of the close relationship between them.
The coach from York was almost due, and they had not long to wait
before it rolled in, the horses steaming in the wintry air. Without
waiting for it to come to a full stop, Archy Baskerville made a flying
leap from the box-seat, and Langton and himself, grasping each other,
indulged in a bear-hug worthy of their midshipman days.
Archy then turned his attention to Colonel Baskerville, and treated him
to a similar embrace, which almost broke his ribs, but which the Colonel
bore uncomplainingly for the quiet joy the meeting with Archy gave him.
Langton promptly shoved Archy into the coach, the footman seized the
portmanteaus from the boot of the York coach, and the four blooded
horses took the road through the path towards Bellingham Castle.
"Langton," cried Archy, as soon as they were in the coach, "you are a
thousand times welcome to the castle and the title, and even our
grandfather's peer's robes and coronet, when they come to you, for I
have now the prospect of having what my heart has yearned for during ten
years. Congress has authorized the building of six fine frigates, and I
have the promise of one of them. I shall be Captain Baskerville at
last!"
"Then I know you will be happy," replied Langton. "I remember you
always declared you would rather have a fine ship than the greatest
castle in England."
"I do not think you have changed much," said Colonel Baskerville.
"Oh, you are mistaken, uncle," answered Archy, quite confidently. "I
have learned prudence, I assure you, and a great many of the other
beggarly virtues," at which the Colonel smiled significantly.
"And whom, think you, have we to meet you at Bellingham besides my
mother and sisters? Dolly Curtis, now a lovely girl of twenty-two, and
very anxious to see her old playfellow," said Langton.
"How jolly!" was Archy's reply. But when he tried to imagine Dolly as
anything but a little girl, who played with him and scrambled all over
him, and rode upon his shoulders and sang songs with Judkins, he failed
utterly.
Presently they rattled up to the door and were in the great hall in a
moment, and Mrs. Langton's arms were around Archy's neck, and she was
leading him to Lord Bellingham's chair by the fire, where the old man
sat quite tremulous with joy to see him.
And Archy burst out with the very thing that pleased Lord Bellingham
most:
"I wished to see all my friends in England, grandfather, but especially
you; for after I went back to America and experienced your generosity in
providing for me, I recalled all your kindness while I was here, and I
wondered how you put up with such a presumptuous little beggar as I
was."
Isabel and Mary, two handsome and dignified young women, came forward
and greeted him with the utmost cordiality, and they all three burst out
laughing involuntarily at the same moment, remembering their ancient
squabbles.
And then a charming, beautiful, modest girl advanced, who looked at
Archy with strange but not unfriendly eyes--Dolly's eyes--and gave him
her hand--over which he bowed--and said to him in a sweet and thrilling
voice one word which brought back the stirring past:
"Gibraltar!"
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Rock of the Lion, by Molly Elliot Seawell