Hildebrand Clifford, on distinguishing the sound that had alarmed
him to be the tread of an approaching foot, gently laid his
hand on the arm of the young Spaniard, who was a pace or two
nearer the door, and drew him back. The sound came nearer, and
Hildebrand felt his friend’s arm, which he still held, tremble
violently. His agitation, though it might be owing to his extreme
youth, and the novelty and strong excitement of the occasion,
more than downright cowardice, greatly degraded him in the
estimation of Hildebrand, and he began to regard him with some
degree of contempt. But recollecting that it was to serve him
the young cavalier had placed himself in danger, the feeling
had scarcely found harbourage in his bosom, on the spur of the
discovery, when he repelled it; and the irresolution of the
Spaniard only rendered him more prompt and decided.
The former seemed to be sensible that it was on Hildebrand their
safety depended. On coming behind the door, he presented him with
his pistols; and, without interchanging a word, or manifesting
the least hesitation, yielded himself passively to his control.
Meantime, the unfriendly footstep, after approaching close to
the door, suddenly paused, and the door was pushed open. As the
door opened, it screened Hildebrand and his ally, who, with
this view, had placed themselves on the inner side of it; and,
consequently, the person entering did not observe them. Nor could
they, at the first start, survey him, being equally blinded by
the door, though, from his ignorance of what had passed, he alone
was open to surprise. To take him by surprise was Hildebrand’s
object. Directly he heard him clear the range of the door, and
before he could glance round the dungeon, he threw the door back,
and, while he thus cut off his retreat, prepared to reduce him to
subjection.
The individual thus surprised was one of the gaoler’s assistants.
He was a short man, and, though thick-set, of a frame that, in a
struggle for mastery, would render him but a poor match for the
muscular energies of Hildebrand. He was, moreover, except for
a long knife which was thrust through his girdle, unarmed, and
further incapacitated for offensive measures by his surprise.
His first glance had informed him of the position of affairs
in the dungeon, and, with the door closed against retreat, his
survey, it may be supposed, was not calculated to encourage him.
While he was yet overwhelmed with alarm, Hildebrand, seizing
his arm with one hand, levelled one of his pistols at him with
the other, and, in a decided and peremptory tone, proceeded to
require his surrender.
“Lie thee down there,” he said, pointing to where his master, the
gaoler, still lay senseless, “and no harm shall come to thee. If
thou hesitate, I will straight take thy life.”
The man, however, did hesitate, though only for a moment. Seeing
that Hildebrand displayed no indecision, he shortly fulfilled his
injunction, and laid himself down by the gaoler without a word.
All these incidents, which it has taken so long to describe,
scarcely occupied a moment, and, as has been remarked, the gaoler
was still insensible. Hildebrand did not fail to seize this
advantage. Directly the gaoler’s man had lain down, he hastened
to secure him, and, at the same time, further secure his master,
by tying them together by their arms and legs. Their leather
girdles, with the sash of his companion, which he quickly
possessed himself of, supplied him with the necessary bonds; and,
in a moment after the design had occurred to him, they no longer
afforded him ground for any apprehension.
Having tied them well together, he turned to his ally.
“Now, Senhor, quick!” he said. “Take up the light, and lead the
way.”
The young Spaniard, with a trembling hand, which Hildebrand
did not overlook, caught up the lamp, and drew open the door.
Hildebrand followed him into the passage, when, turning round,
he paused to secure the door. Having drawn it home to the jamb,
and shot the bolts into their sockets, he prepared to set forward
again.
“Art thou well advised of the way?” he whispered to his companion.
“Right surely,” answered the other. “But there is a chamber on
one side of the door, overlooking the passage, where, when I
entered, there was an alguazil on guard. I waited there, on my
entry, while the gaoler examined my pass; and I noted that the
alguazil was armed.”
Although Hildebrand had remarked in the young cavalier what he
could not but consider as traces of cowardice, the manner in
which he delivered this information, and the forethought and
judgment revealed by its acquisition, effaced the impression he
had conceived in that respect, and quite restored him to his
esteem. Indeed, he began to think, from his present bearing and
aspect, that the manifestations which he had supposed to indicate
pusillanimity were rather the effect of the passing excitement,
and that it was the novelty of his situation, not its peril, that
had so sensibly agitated him. He did not pause to make these
reflections, but, with the quickness of perception peculiar to
his profession, caught them on the instant; and then rendered his
reply.
“’Twas most admirably noted, Senhor,” he said. “Take good heart
now; and lead the way.”
The Spaniard, without making a reply, hereupon stepped forward,
and preceded Hildebrand up a contiguous flight of steps. On
reaching the summit, they found themselves in a short passage,
which was crossed, a little higher up, by another passage,
running the whole length of the gaol. Glancing up the passage
on his right hand, Hildebrand distinguished the gaol-door; and
on one side of this, in the wall of the passage, the open door
of the guard-chamber. A flood of light issued from the latter
doorway; and the necessity for their own light being thus
superseded, Hildebrand signed to his companion, who was waiting
his directions, to lay it down. He then waved him to the rear,
and, with a cautious but unhesitating step, led the way himself.
All was quiet. But the guard-chamber, if the light were any
evidence, was no doubt tenanted, and probably by more persons
than one. It is true, it was close to the door; but its
proximity, far from being advantageous, was rather adverse to
a clandestine egress, and, as the door of the chamber was wide
open, to pass it unobserved was almost beyond their hopes. Even
should they be able to accomplish this object, they had still to
open the gaol-door, which, at the least, was well secured with
bolts, and might possibly be locked.
Hildebrand was fully alive to these varied difficulties. After he
had once stepped forward, however, he did not pause, but pursued
his way undaunted.
They passed along on tiptoe. They ordered their movements so
noiselessly, that the silence, unbroken by their progress, rang
in their ears, and they could almost hear the beat of their own
hearts. A few paces brought them in a line with the door, and
Hildebrand, emboldened by the prevailing stillness, ventured to
peep round.
In a line with the door, on the further side of the chamber,
was a fire; but the smoke which issued from it passed pretty
regularly through the chimney-hole in the roof, and the view,
though clouded, was no way broken. A man stood before the fire,
warming one of his hands; and though he had his back to the door,
a lighted lamp which hung from the roof, about midway across,
enabled Hildebrand to observe that he was armed. Indeed, one
of his hands, which was thrown back from the fire, clasped the
barrel of a caliver, the butt of which rested on the floor; and
even if he had no other weapon, he was in this invincible.
As Hildebrand observed his disposition, he mechanically
raised his pistol, and levelled it at his head. But, though
self-preservation is an overpowering impulse, the truly brave
heart, however excited, will always shrink from a sacrifice of
life; and Hildebrand had scarcely extended his pistol when he
drew it back. Still holding the pistol in his hand, he placed the
other hand, which he had at liberty, on the arm of his companion,
and passed that person towards the gaol-door.
The young Spaniard reached the door in a moment. The guard, as
in the first instance, still kept his face to the fire, and
evidently felt perfectly secure. Satisfied with his disposition,
Hildebrand resolved to pass the aperture himself. He had reached
the middle of the doorway, when, feeling secure of the guard,
he ventured to turn off his gaze, and glance at his companion.
Just as he did so, the guard, whether from a desire to change his
position, or that he heard something to alarm him, wheeled round
from the fire, and perceived him. He raised his caliver directly,
and, with a steady aim, levelled it at Hildebrand’s head.
“Stand!” he cried, “or I fire!”
Hildebrand stood as still as a statue. To move was certain death;
for the guard, besides that he stood right opposite to him, was
scarcely twelve paces distant. His companion, although, from his
being under the cover of the passage-wall, he could not see the
guard, fully understood his situation, and saw that his first
movement would probably be his last. A spasm passed over his face
as this horrible truth occurred to him. For a moment--not only
as regarded his person, but his complexion--he seemed perfectly
petrified: then, with recovered energy, he darted forward, and
threw himself between Hildebrand and his enemy.
His unexpected obtrusion evidently threw the latter off his
guard. Before he could recover himself, Hildebrand had raised his
pistol, and they now, to a certain extent, stood almost on an
equality. Hildebrand knew that, in this situation, a great deal
would depend on having the first shot, and that that alone could
save him. Pausing only to push back his companion, he steadied
his aim, and fired.
The alguazil fired almost at the same instant. The young
Spaniard, whom Hildebrand had just before pushed under cover,
heard both the reports at once, and watched for the result with
the most intense terror. To his great joy, Hildebrand, when the
smoke passed away, appeared wholly unhurt; but a heavy fall in
the chamber, following the last report, intimated that such
was not the case with his adversary. The flash of Hildebrand’s
pistol, which his eager eyes instantly detected, had shaken
the alguazil’s aim, and his charge passed harmlessly over
Hildebrand’s shoulder. Before he could observe its effect, he
received Hildebrand’s charge in the centre of his forehead, and
fell to the floor a corpse.
The report of the fire-arms, which the prevailing silence carried
a good distance, raised an alarum throughout the gaol, and voices
and footsteps were heard in every direction. The fugitives had
not a moment to spare; for the door, if it happened to be locked,
might still cut off their retreat, and, in any case, presented an
obstacle not to be trifled with.
The young Spaniard, who had recently displayed such
heroism, seemed to have lost his self-possession again, and
stood perfectly still. Fortunately, however, Hildebrand’s
characteristic promptitude, which was unshaken, made up for his
inertness. Directly he saw the alguazil fall, he sprang towards
the gaol-door; and gently drawing back his companion, who, in his
distraction, had thrown himself right in his way, proceeded to
examine it.
The door was secured by two massy bolts, one at the bottom, and
the other at the top; and a lock, from the keyhole of which,
attached to the key of the door, was suspended a bunch of large
keys. Hildebrand drew back the bolts in a moment, and, with the
same despatch, turned back the key, and pulled the door open.
The night, though not far advanced, was pitchy dark, and thus
calculated to cover their retreat. Although, however, it was so
far in their favour, it was not altogether propitious, inasmuch
as the darkness prevented them from pursuing their way with that
accuracy that they would have done in the light. There were three
or four steps at the door, leading into the gaol-yard; and, on
darting out of the doorway, Hildebrand only escaped falling over
these steps, which he could not distinguish, by his prolonged
spring. Thus held up, he alighted unhurt in the yard, and pushed
forward amain.
The yard, after passing along the front of the gaol, turned a
little higher up, and continued its course along one of its
sides. It was enclosed by a stone wall, about ten feet high; but
at its further extremity, fronting the side of the gaol, there
was an iron gate, which it would not be difficult to scale.
Hildebrand, though the internal structure of the gaol had escaped
his memory, remembered these particulars, and, having once
reached the yard, he made for the gate directly.
As he came to the corner of the gaol, where the yard turned along
the side, he was about to wheel round, when he ran against a man,
with his arms extended for action, who was approaching from the
opposite quarter.
They both started back a few paces.
“Avast there, mate!” cried the stranger, in English. “What cheer?”
“Halyard!” exclaimed Hildebrand, recognising the voice of his
chief mariner. “How camest thou here?”
“I came with the Don to the gate,” answered Halyard. “Hearing
fire-arms, I guessed ye were making way; and so, not to miss
sport, came to lend a hand. The gate is open.”
“Where is our friend?” cried Hildebrand, looking round.
The young Spaniard, instead of being behind him, as he supposed
him to be, was nowhere visible. Though the din within the gaol
was now greatly heightened, and indicated that pursuit was close
upon them, Hildebrand, on ascertaining this, sprang back to the
gaol-door, determined to perish rather than leave him behind.
On gaining the door, he found him lying on the steps. In the
hurry of his egress, and the prevailing darkness, the steps had
escaped his observation, and, striding heedlessly forward, he had
fallen over them. Hildebrand, though concerned at his situation,
did not pause to inquire how this had happened, but, without a
word of greeting, caught him up in his arms, and thus proceeded
to carry him off.
They reached the gate without being interrupted. Halyard, who had
closely followed Hildebrand, then led the way, and Hildebrand
followed with the young cavalier.
After they had gone a short distance, the last-named personage,
addressing Hildebrand, expressed a desire to be set on his feet,
as he was perfectly able to pursue his way unaided. Hildebrand,
who had caught him up with the impression that he was seriously
hurt, instantly complied with his request; but, at the same time,
declared that he would see him bestowed in safety, either at his
own residence, or that of Donna Inez, before he proceeded further.
“There is no safety here now,” answered the cavalier, in an
agitated voice, “for either thee or me. I must with thee to
England.”
Hildebrand was silent.
“Think not,” resumed the cavalier, with increased agitation,
“that I would impose myself on thee at thy charge. I have left a
casket on board thy ship, under care of thy lieutenant here, that
will more than meet my expenditure. Howbeit, rather than put thee
to trouble----”
“Prithee name it not, Senhor,” replied Hildebrand. “All that I
have, to my very life, is thine, and shall be to the last. Go
with me, an’ thou wilt. But,” he added, in a lower tone, so as
not to be heard by Halyard, “shall we not see thy fair cousin
first?”
“Dost thou so love her, then?” asked the cavalier. And Hildebrand
thought that his small, soft hand, which he still held in his,
trembled a little, and lost itself in his clasp.
“I would see her before we go,” Hildebrand answered; “for we may
never meet again.”
The cavalier drew back his hand.
“She will not see thee,” he said, hastily. “She hath given me a
billet for thee, wherein, as I understood her, she so tells thee
her mind. Wilt thou read it?”
Then, without raising his eyes, which for the last few minutes
had been fixed on the ground, he presented Hildebrand with a
sealed billet. The latter person eagerly accepted it, and, with
an involuntary sigh, thrust it into his vest.
They had lingered behind during this brief dialogue. When
Hildebrand had disposed of the Donna’s note, he stepped forward
more boldly, and they shortly came abreast of Halyard.
“Art thou making for the mole?” asked Hildebrand of that person.
“No, captain, but for the beach,” answered Halyard. “I have a
boat off the beach, with muffled oars.”
“Muffled oars?” echoed Hildebrand.
“Faith, I forgot to tell thee, captain,” rejoined Halyard; “but
the Dons boarded us this morning. They seemed to be satisfied,
after well overhauling us, that we were Scots; but, since then,
we have a great gun-boat anchored alongside of us, and I doubt
not are closely watched.”
“An’ the moon rise not quickly,” observed Hildebrand, “we may
baffle them.”
Halyard, whether because he was of a different opinion, or that
he conceived his sentiments to be unimportant, made no reply,
and they pursued their way in silence. After a short interval,
they came to the water-side, and passed directly to the beach.
Not a person was about, and the dark hulls of the shipping,
scattered here and there over the water, at various distances,
were the only objects that could be distinguished. After
progressing for a few minutes, however, the quick eyes of the
two Englishmen, used to maritime observation, discerned the less
striking outline of their boat. It was lying afloat, a length or
two out from the beach, with its oars--whether as a precaution
against surprise, or for some less obvious purpose--shipped for
service, and its coxswain stationed ready at the rudder.
A shrill whistle from Halyard, with a cry of “Boat ahoy!” uttered
in a low but distinct tone, reached the coxswain’s ears, and the
boat was instantly shot up to the beach. Halyard and Hildebrand,
as by a preconcerted arrangement, hereupon stepped on one side,
with the view of allowing the young Spaniard to pass in first;
but that person, by a negative inclination of his head, declined
the precedence, and waved them foremost.
While, in compliance with his wish, they were stepping into the
boat, the young cavalier turned round from the water, and glanced
earnestly over the indistinct lines of the city. It was his
native place; and though, if truly viewed, it might hold none who
had any claim on his affections, there habit must have fixed his
thoughts, and early associations have rooted his ambition.
Whatever were the ties that connected him with home, there was
something singularly distressing, to a sensitive mind, in the
prospect opened by their dismission. He was about to start
into the wide world--to discard the dearest impressions of
nature--to relinquish country, kindred, and birthright, and to
trust himself, wholly and unreservedly, to the protection and
companionship of strangers. How might not the confidence he
reposed in those persons be abused! National prejudice, and, what
was more influential, his religion, held them to be enemies; they
had been stigmatised as spies; they might be pirates. His lip
quivered--probably with hesitation--as the thought occurred to
him, and his noble bosom, which for his years displayed uncommon
volume, heaved sensibly.
But his indecision was only momentary. The feelings, whatever
they were, that had first led him to associate himself with
Hildebrand, then revived, and all his involuntary apprehensions
subsided. Instead of looking on him as a national enemy, he
regarded him only as one of a marked race, who, by their daring
and genius, stood out in relief from the rest of the world, the
lords and leaders of all mankind.
Hildebrand, with that instinctive apprehension which belongs
exclusively to refined minds, readily divined what was passing
in the cavalier’s bosom; and though, out of regard for their
mutual safety, anxious to proceed, did not offer to bring his
meditation to a close. Thus left to himself, the cavalier, as if
unmindful of their situation, lingered on the shore for several
minutes, and took the final step of entering the boat at his own
unbiassed prompture.
END OF VOL. I.
London: HENRY RICHARDS, Brydges-street, Covent-garden.
Transcriber’s Notes:
There are two Chapter IV’s. The chapters were not renumbered.
Spelling and hyphenation (including inconsistent hyphenation)
consistent with the period were retained.
Added punctuation and quotation marks missed in printing.
Changed “his” to “his” on page 52. (His thoughts as our thoughts)
Added missing “s” in “his”, on page 76. (Sir Edgar and his family)
Changed “prerarations” to “preparations” on page 125. (bustle
attending the preparations)
Changed “acconnt” to “account” on page 276. (There was a long
account)