IN THE MERRY CITY
The _Heart of the West_ was boarded by a lieutenant of infantry, inside
the Narrows, and was quickly piloted to a berth on the north side of the
great harbour, where her anchors were merrily let go. The lieutenant
welcomed Master Kingswell in the governor's name, and vowed to Mistress
Westleigh that the old shellback (with so little respect will a
subaltern sometimes speak of his superior into safe ears) would never
have allowed his gout to keep him ashore had he guessed that the new
arrival carried such a passenger.
"But his Excellency is a sailor," he added, "so, after all, he'd blink
his old eyes at you unmoved. These sailors, ecod, are not the
worshippers of beauty that the poets would have us believe."
He bowed again, very fine in his new uniform and powdered hair. Beatrix
shot a glance at Kingswell, who seemed in no wise conscious of the
dimness of his own attire and the rents in the silk facings of his
coat. Then she smiled upon the soldier.
"Both the army and navy have my esteem," she said, "but my particular
fancy is for the Church."
The lieutenant seemed overwhelmed. "Say you so?" he cried. "And to
think, mistress, that I refused to take Holy Orders, despite the
combined persuasion of both my parents and my uncle, the Bishop of Bath.
Stab me, but why did not my heart give me a hint of your preference?"
"Perhaps you have a parson ashore," suggested Kingswell.
"Ay, we have a parson--a ranting old missionary," replied the
lieutenant.
"He'll serve my turn," said Beatrix, "so long as he can read the
marriage service."
"Ay, he'll serve our turn," said Kingswell.
The soldier sighed, and smiled whimsically from the one to the other. He
was not much older than Bernard Kingswell, and of a pleasant, boyish
countenance.
"You have a story," he said, "with which I hope you will honour us in
the governor's house. A brave tale, too, I'll stake my sword." He smiled
good-naturedly at Master Kingswell. "But d'ye know," he added, gazing at
Mistress Westleigh, "I had quite set my heart on it that you two were
brother and sister."
The governor received them in his best coat, with one foot in a boot,
and the other swathed to the bulk of a soldier's knapsack. His face was
of the tint of russet leather, and, roughened by many inclement winds
and darkened by high living. His voice was of a rancorous quality, as if
he had frayed it by too much shouting through fogs and against gales.
His hands were big, knotted, and tremulous, and his eyes not unlike
those of a new-jigged codfish. Altogether he was a figure of a man for
his place as king's representative. He led Mistress Beatrix to a chair
with such grace as he could command, and presented a ponderous snuff-box
to Master Kingswell. Then he called for refreshments. The lieutenant
made himself at home beside the lady, and waited upon her with wine and
cakes. When the servants were gone and the door closed, Kingswell stated
his name and degree.
"Let me shake your hand again, young sir," cried his Excellency,
extending an unsteady hand. "Your honoured father dined and wined me
more than once in his great house in Bristol,--ay, and treated the poor
sailor like a peer of the realm."
Kingswell leaned sideways in his chair and gave a brief account of Sir
Ralph Westleigh's and Mistress Westleigh's sojourn in the wilderness,
and of the baronet's death. He did not mention the fact that the fort
was still inhabited, nor did he give a very definite idea of its
whereabouts. It was well to be cautious in regard to unchartered
plantations in those days of greedy fishermen. He mentioned the brief
engagement with the buccaneer. He told of his betrothal to Mistress
Westleigh, and of their anxiety to be married immediately. The governor
was deeply affected by the story of Sir Ralph Westleigh's last days. He
murmured an oath. "And the day was," he said, "that not a duke in
England was more looked up to than that same baronet of Somerset. Well
do I recall the pride that inflated me when Lady Westleigh--ay, the
young lady's mother--bowed to me in Hyde Park. Only once had she met me,
and that in a crush to which I'd been invited through my commander. And
she was as beautiful as she was gracious, sir. 'Twas after her death
that Sir Ralph threw over his ballast, poor devil."
Kingswell nodded, and remembered the winter of alarms and loneliness.
"They were bitter years for the daughter," he said, softly. "Motherless,
and with a father whom she loved letting slip his old pride and honour
day by day, she shared his downfall and his exile with fortitude, sir,
I can assure you."
"Ay, as became her brave beauty," replied the governor, with a gleam in
his staring eyes.
Now fate would have it at that time the only divine in the great island,
the Reverend Thomas Aldrich, M. A., was away from the little town of St.
John's, on a preaching tour among the English fishermen in Conception
Bay. He might be back in a day's time; he was more likely not to return
within the week.
"In the meantime," said the honest governor, "my house is at Mistress
Westleigh's service. Let her send for her maid and her boxes. My good
housekeeper will tidy up the best chamber. Gad, Master Kingswell, but
we'll cheer this God-forsaken, French-pestered hole in the rock with a
touch of gaiety."
His Excellency's hospitality was accepted, and for eight days the little
settlement gave itself over to merrymaking. There were dances in the
governor's house every night, at which Beatrix was the only lady. There
were great dinners, during which Beatrix sat on his Excellency's right
and Kingswell on his left. There were inspections of the fort, boating
parties on the harbour, and outings among the woods and natural gardens
that graced the valley at the head of the beautiful basin.
The beauty and graciousness of Mistress Westleigh, and the knowledge of
her loyalty to her father, and her bravery won the heart of that rude
village. From the governor to the youngest sailor lad, every man in the
harbour was her humble and devoted servant.
Before the kindly soldiers and merchants and adventurers, she was always
merry. The main street along the water-front took on a light of distant
England did she but appear in it for a minute. The three officers of the
garrison swore that they preferred it to the most fashionable promenade
on London. But, alone, or with her lover, she eased, with tears, the
grief for her father's fate, which all the junketing and gaiety but
seemed to uncover.
On the eighth day after the arrival of the _Heart of the West_ in the
harbour of St. John's, the parson returned from his preaching among the
boisterous fishing-ships in Conception Bay. He shook his head at the
state in which he found his home flock; for he was of that gloomy
persuasion known as low church, and held little with frivolity. But,
after meeting Beatrix, he thawed, and even went so far as to attempt a
pun on his willingness to marry her. The sally of wit was received by
the lady with so lovely a smile that the divine forgot his austerity so
far as to poke Kingswell in the ribs, and call him a sly dog.
The ceremony took place in the little church behind the governor's
house; and, after it was over, his Excellency, the parson, the officers
of the garrison, the merchants, the captains of the ships, and many
more, accompanied the happy couple aboard the _Heart of the West_, where
sound wines were drunk by the quality, and rum and beer by the
commonalty. All the shipping, the premises of the merchants, and the
forts flew bunting, as if for a demonstration to royalty itself. At noon
farewells were said, and a dozen willing boats towed the _Heart of the
West_ down the harbour and through the Narrows.