mind, the whirlwind and the tempest would have been more congenial to
my agitated feelings. The stars still glittered in their brightness,
but the deed of blood I had just witnessed, gave to my sight a red and
gory haze that dimmed the sparkling lustre of the glistening orbs. The
soft persuasions of humanity were deadened in my breast, and vengeance
alone reigned with all its cruel terrors. Eagerly we pursued our
course, and after one hour’s smart riding, our guide suddenly pulled
up and informed us we were close to their retreat; but it would be
necessary for one or two to go before with him and reconnoitre, while
the others slowly advanced. Taking two men with me, and leading our
horses, we approached a wild romantic spot, formed of stunted shrubbery
and craggy rocks, beneath which the mouths of many caverns yawned in
darkness--but all was solemn stillness. Entering one of these dismal
dens, a deep groan arrested our steps. The guide shouted in the
Spanish language, but no answer was returned. A gun was fired, but
all remained tranquil; and it became evident that the guerillas had
not been there, or else had withdrawn on our approach. Another groan
decided me on searching the interior of the cave, and having procured
a light, by flashing some powder on a flambeau, we advanced through
several intricate windings to an inner apartment, when another sight
of horror was presented. Stretched on his back upon the damp floor
lay the Englishman, weltering in his blood; round his ankles and his
wrists strong ropes were fastened, the other ends of which were secured
to pegs driven firmly in the ground, so as to stretch his extended
limbs to the extreme of torture. Nor was he the only one; two others
appeared in similar situations, but their sufferings were over. We lost
no time in releasing the Englishman from the rack, but his state of
insensibility from loss of blood, left but small prospect of recovery.
Time was rapidly hastening away, and our guide informed us that all
pursuit was fruitless, as he had no doubt the guerillas had retreated
to the mountains; we therefore retraced our steps to the farm, from
whence I despatched a communication to the commander-in-chief. The
same night a reply was brought, stating that the priests refused to
officiate or attend at the removal of the bodies; I was therefore
directed to inter them wherever I could find a place most suitable.
In the orchard attached to the farm was an avenue or grove of
orange-trees, and at the extremity of the walk, a rural seat (where I
had sat with the sweet girl) was formed beneath the spreading branches;
and this was the spot I selected as the last resting place of murdered
innocence. At the still midnight hour the bodies were laid in their
narrow home; no chaunt of voices gave notice of their burial; but the
ritual of our church was solemnly read over them. No pomp attended
the funeral; but the honest tear of the veteran, as he consigned the
last remnants of frail mortality to the dust, was a memorial far
more precious. No monumental inscription marks the spot--the name of
Mariqueta, engraven on the green bark of the orange-tree, formed the
only memento.
The Englishman was removed to the city, where by excellent medical
attendance he slowly recovered, and under the protection of the
commander-in-chief, he returned to his native land. But he found his
parents had long been consigned to the tomb; the friends of his youth
were either dead or estranged, and after lingering a few months,
tortured by remorse, he entered upon that “bourne from whence no
travellers return.” In early life he had been nursed in the lap of
luxury, and received a good education, but in an evil hour he had
committed a felony to answer the demands of a gambling debt. He had
been tried and sentenced to die, but through powerful intercession
his punishment was commuted to transportation for life. The ship
Jane Shore, in which he embarked, was seized upon by the convicts,
and carried into the River Plate. From that hour no ray of pleasure
beamed upon his mind, but all was cheerless melancholy, bordering upon
hopeless despair. Oh! may “he who thinketh that he standeth, take heed
lest he fall.”
FOOTNOTES
[6] Literally countryman, or peasant; but here designed to represent a
guerilla.
THE BURNING SHIP.
“A dismal heat, foreboding death,
Came stiflingly on by every breath;
And many a shuddering mother clasp’d
Her infant to her breast, and grasp’d
In strong despair some kindred hand,
Which shook her off.”
We were both born in the same village, and drew our nourishment from
the same source in infancy. Yes, we have lain encircled in each other’s
arms in the same cradle, and fond affection grew with our growth. But
ah! how different were our conditions in life;--she the offspring of
one who could boast of rank and wealth, whilst I was brought forth in
comparative obscurity and poverty.
Agnes was the daughter of a baronet, to whom my father was head
gardener; her mother resigned her existence in giving birth to her
child, and the first tears of the infant were shed upon the cold
inanimate bosom of that being to whom she was indebted for her life. My
maternal parent having been confined about the same time, was selected
as wet-nurse on account of her excellent health and gentleness of
disposition, and the little Agnes was removed to our cottage, which
was surrounded by a shrubbery tastefully laid out, and situated in the
most delightful and romantic part of the grounds.
Sir Edward Melville was generous, and even condescending, to his
inferiors, as long as they preserved an unqualified respect for his
dignified rank; but if any one aimed at superior station, or failed
in due reverence to himself, he became vindictive and revengeful. His
principles were of so aristocratic a nature, that he considered it an
ordination of divine authority for riches and titles to rule, and for
humble obscurity to be content with tacit submission. Soon after the
decease of his lady, he was appointed envoy to a foreign court, and a
maiden aunt officiated as mistress at the castle during his absence;
but the pride and malice of her heart rendered her hated and feared
by all around her, and it was only at the cottage of her nurse in
which Agnes always found an affectionate bosom as a depository for her
griefs, and where the soothings of tenderness were ever ready to calm
the perturbation of her mind.
It is impossible to define the feelings of childhood, for, as we grow
more advanced in years, the softer sympathies become deadened by
intercourse with the world and witnessing the scenes of misery which
every where present themselves. Solomon hath said, “Childhood and youth
are vanity;” yet what would I not give to possess the same innocence
of heart, the same purity of thought which I enjoyed in my early years.
In our amusements, Agnes and myself were inseparable; and when removed
from the haughty control of her aunt, we indulged in those little
endearments which innocence inspires. Although my father’s condition
in life was humble, he nevertheless possessed a cultivated taste, and
was well acquainted with the works of the best writers of the day,--his
leisure hours being occupied in reading (for through the kindness of
the steward, he had free access to Sir Edward’s library and could
obtain the loan of any book he wanted) and imparting instruction to
myself. At the age of six, I could read tolerably well and understand
what I read; but no book delighted me so much as the affecting tale of
Paul and Virginia, which was my favourite volume, and often has the
sweet Agnes mingled her tears with mine while perusing its pages.
Agnes had an elder brother, but he seldom associated with us, for
his aunt had centred all her regards in him, and instilled into his
mind every notion of high birth and exalted parentage. Yet he was not
happy; for when he did deign to share our childhood’s sports, I can
well remember the burst of passion which agitated him if I did not
immediately comply with his wishes and submit to his caprice. But
the last two years before Sir Edward’s return, he had been under the
management of a tutor, whose kindness I shall never forget. This
worthy and excellent man was also a constant visiter at the cottage
whenever his duties would permit, and to his instructions am I indebted
for whatever portion of knowledge I possess.
When I had attained my eighth year, intelligence arrived of Sir
Edward’s return to England, and his intention of visiting the castle;
yet much as I desired to see the father of Agnes, still I can remember
a dejection came upon my spirits, young as I was, and I seemed to dread
it as something which foreboded evil. At length he came, and received
me with great kindness as the foster-brother of Agnes; but never shall
I forget his terrible look, when with the playful familiarity of
childhood, the dear girl put her little white arms round my neck. It
was the first time I had ever witnessed such a display of rage, and
it left an impression on my mind which time can never efface. I was
removed from the castle, and nothing but the persuasions of a nobleman
who accompanied him, would have prevented the dismissal of my father
from his situation.
In a few days afterwards, the baronet with his sister and children went
to the metropolis, and four years elapsed before we met again; but
though nothing is sooner erased from the memory of a child than past
events, yet the remembrance of the companion who shared our infantine
amusements seldom quits us through life: and so I found it with Agnes.
Since we had parted, I devoted myself assiduously to learning and had
made great proficiency in writing and drawing, to the latter of which
accomplishments I was particularly attached. Nor was I deficient in
athletic exercises, for nothing gave me greater delight than skimming
through the liquid element, climbing the lofty mountain, or breaking
through the thick mazes of the forest. The scenery in Paul and Virginia
raised a desire in my mind to imitate the former, and often have I
ascended the highest tree, sitting for hours on its topmost branches
and gazing towards the road where I had last seen the equipage of Sir
Edward disappear.
We were now in our twelfth year; the baronet was gone abroad taking
his son with him, and Agnes with her aunt, who had married a gouty
old colonel, took up their abode at the castle. The colonel was an
“Honourable,” but the very reverse of his lady or her brother; he was
destitute of their pride, and I was frequently permitted to pass whole
days at the castle in reading to and amusing him. In these pursuits
Agnes was generally at my side when the absence of her aunt allowed
it, and I number some of those hours as the happiest of my life. Her
instructress was a mild and amiable woman, of Christian meekness and
piety; she had drunk deep from the cup of sorrow, and there was a
pensive melancholy imprinted on her countenance which powerfully
interested the best feelings of the heart.
Thus passed two happy years, during which I felt my soul more strongly
linked with every thing that concerned the gentle Agnes. I was as yet
unacquainted with the cause of these feelings, and the first time that
the truth opened to my heart was on my fifteenth birth-day. My father,
whom I had occasionally assisted in his labours, gave a little féte in
remembrance of it. It was the height of summer; the most respectable
youths and lasses in the village were assembled to a dance in the park.
The colonel was wheeled to the spot in his garden-chair, and her aunt
being absent on a visit, Agnes graced the festival.
It was a happy and a lovely group beneath the wide-spreading branches
of the trees, and when the dance commenced, Agnes became my partner.
Oh, then I felt how precious she was to my happiness, as her light
airy form was pressed in my arms! but when I contrasted the coarseness
of my apparel with the delicate texture of her dress, a pang of deep
humiliation stung me to the quick. At this moment, a young man in a
travelling dress advanced towards us; it was Sir Edward’s son. His face
was flushed with anger; he seized the arm of his sister with a wild
impetuosity that caused her to cry out, and I immediately interfered;
he raised his riding-whip and struck me--yes, struck me to the earth.
I sprang upon my feet, but was instantly held fast and forced to the
cottage, whilst Agnes was hurried away to the castle. Ah! then I felt
what it was to love, and despair took possession of my mind; all other
considerations seemed swallowed up, and I determined to fly from the
place. Parents, kindred, all but Agnes were forgotten, and ere the dawn
broke upon the cottage or the castle, I was far on my way from home.
In the early part of the morning I was accosted by a gentlemanly man,
who offered me a seat in a post-chaise. This I gladly accepted, and
found he was a naval officer about to join his ship at Plymouth, and
he proposed my serving my country. The world was all before me, and
to my romantic mind there was a magic in the expression, and before
another day had elapsed I was entered on the books of the Amphion
frigate as a volunteer. There was no time for reflection; I was wearied
with my journey, sleep overpowered my faculties, and before the dawn
arose the ship was out at sea. Never shall I forget my sensations when
I first beheld the expanse of ocean, without a single speck to break
its monotonous appearance. Blue waters all around and the clear heaven
above, while the tall ship, reflecting her image on the waves, passed
majestically through the briny element.
I was ignorant of etiquette, and without ceremony respectfully
addressed my friend, the lieutenant; but he repulsed my familiarity
with coldness, and directed a lad to take me to his cabin, where he
immediately joined me. Here he explained the nature of the service,
and the distance which it was deemed necessary to keep up between
the officers and crew. He then made inquiry as to my clothes, and
generously supplied me with some linen from his own stock. The ship’s
tailor altered one of his jackets, and in a short time I was equipped
as a sailor. But, ah, how many hours of bitter mortification and
anguish did I undergo! I had every thing to learn, was often ill-used,
and every day increased the distance from all I loved, without being
able to inform them of my situation, as the frigate was bound to the
East Indies. Remorse prayed upon my mind; I had not contemplated
leaving England, much more leaving it without letting them know where I
was; but now their affectionate hearts were wrung with my indiscretion.
Agnes too!--but the remembrance of the sweet girl was ever accompanied
by the recollection of the blow I had received from her brother, and I
determined to persevere in the profession in which I had engaged.
The lieutenant was my sincere friend; he took every opportunity to
promote my interests, and I endeavoured by all the means in my power to
profit by his kindness and to testify my gratitude. At first, I was
much persecuted by the seamen and the other boys; but when they found
me desirous of learning and attentive to my duty, every one conspired
to render me assistance, and I soon became a favourite with both
officers and men. On one occasion, whilst the ship was lying nearly
becalmed, one of the junior midshipmen, as he was playing about the
rigging, fell overboard; I instantly dashed into the sea, and supported
him from sinking till a boat was lowered down and took us up. This act,
for which I claim no merit, brought me under the immediate notice of
the captain, who witnessed it, and I was removed to the quarter deck
to do duty as a midshipman. Every one expressed satisfaction at my
promotion, and my new messmates vied with each other in manifesting
their generous feelings.
After a passage of four months, we arrived at Madras, and I lost no
time in acquainting my parents with my destination; but, unfortunately,
the letter never reached their hands, as the ship which conveyed it was
wrecked off the Cape of Good Hope, and every soul perished. Scarcely
had we time to refit and victual, when orders were received to proceed
to the China seas, as two French frigates had been seen cruising among
the islands. Thither we hastened, and continued our search after them
for six months, but without success, and at the expiration of that time
we returned to Madras. It would be useless for me to enumerate the
many places we visited during our stay in India, which occupied upwards
of three years. Despatches were prepared for us, and we sailed for
England.
Throughout the whole period of my absence, I had never heard from
home; but still the fond remembrances of early enjoyments in that
sweet spot clung to my soul, and Agnes in all her loveliness was ever
present to my imagination, prompting me to many an honourable action
and restraining me from every thing which could bring discredit on
my affection; indeed I may truly say, that to her I was indebted for
the respect and esteem I enjoyed from every one on board. Often did
I rejoice in my heart at the prospect of once more embracing those
who were so dear to me, and as often did the sickening sensations of
distracting doubt agitate my breast.
One lovely evening, the sky was beautifully serene; the ocean like a
clear mirror reflected the golden rays of the setting sun, and the
light breeze just lulled the spreading sails to sleep, propelling
the ship almost imperceptibly along at the rate of three knots[7] an
hour. It was one of those evenings that baffle the painter’s art, and
only the poet can portray; The first watch was drawing to a close; it
had struck seven bells;[8] the seamen on the look-out had proclaimed
“all’s well,” and every thing was again hushed to solemn stillness. I
was standing on the gangway full of pensive musings, watching a bright
star just kindling on the verge of the horizon. It beamed like a ray of
hope, irradiating the gloom which hung heavy upon my heart; suddenly
it expanded like the glowing meteor, and the ocean was illuminated
with a red and gory tinge. I was struck with astonishment, but at the
same moment an exclamation resounded fore-and-aft, “A ship on fire! a
ship on fire!” and the horrid conviction was, alas! too evident. In
a few minutes the flames were distinctly visible, and the ship was
pronounced to be about five miles distant. Never before did I witness
such alacrity among our crew, as in that hour of peril. The captain
and every officer and man were on deck immediately; and as it was
impossible for the frigate to approach in sufficient time to rescue
the sufferers, before ten minutes had elapsed from the period of first
noticing the fire, every boat was in motion towards the scene of danger.
It fell to my lot to command the captain’s gig, a swift-pulling boat
with seven men, who bent to their oars with all the might of brave
and generous spirits. As we drew near, the destructive element raged
with increasing fury, and the shrieks of the wretched creatures came
mingling with the crackling of the flames and the crash of falling
masts. The frigate had fired guns and hoisted lights to show them
succour was at hand, and the boats’ crews occasionally cheered to
announce that they were approaching to their rescue. The shouts were
returned from the burning ship, but so wild, so fearful, that they
sounded like the yell of expiring agony that still clung to hope and
life. I would have dashed instantly alongside, but the old coxswain
respectfully warned me of the danger of such a measure.
We were now within a short distance of the vessel, and oh, what a
sight of horror was presented! The ports were all open, and the flames
pouring from them as from so many mouths, seemed eager for their prey.
Numbers of poor creatures were swimming towards us, whilst others held
pieces of shattered spars with a strong convulsive grasp. The fore part
of the ship was nearly consumed, and the upper part abaft was rapidly
falling in. Those who could swim we left for other boats to take up,
and pulling under the stern, we lay unobserved by the gun-room ports,
while the fiery fragments came tumbling thick about us. Trusting to my
skill in swimming should it be deemed requisite to jump overboard, I
instantly entered the port-hole, and the ship having fallen off before
the wind, what little air there was, drove the greatest part of the
smoke forward; yet there was an almost insupportable heat, and the
suffocating vapours bade defiance to my efforts to penetrate further. A
feeling I could not account for, an indescribable feeling urged me on,
and I reached the gun-room ladder, at the bottom of which lay a human
being whose sufferings apparently were over. I passed my hand quickly
to the heart to feel if any palpitation yet remained, and discovered
that the individual was a female. She was yet living, and in a few
minutes was safely in the boat. Again I returned with three of my crew,
and soon had the satisfaction of rescuing eight poor wretches, who lay
in a state of insensibility, and must soon have perished. Stimulated
by success, we penetrated to the burning deck above, and never shall I
forget the horror of the spectacle. Here all was brilliancy and light;
and the devouring element, rolling its huge volumes over many a devoted
victim, roared in its fierceness, as if to stifle the thrilling scream
of the last death-pang. Several half-burnt and mangled bodies could be
distinguished in the flames, and many others lay in a senseless state,
unaware of the awful doom awaiting them.
Near the transom abaft, sat a woman with an infant in her arms, seeming
unconscious of any object moving near her. She saw not our approach,
but her eyeballs wildly glared upon the red hue of the burning fabric.
I spoke to her, shook her arm, but her eyes still continued fixed:
alas! the film of death was on them. She heeded me not, but clasped
her infant closer to her bosom, gave one wild, one dismal shriek, and
mortal agony was over. The moments became exceedingly precious, and
the smiling infant--for it smiled amid the horrors of the appalling
scene--was secured, and several poor wretches were dragged to the
gun-room scuttle, where they were thrown down, risking their limbs
to save their lives, and the boat was completely filled, almost to
sinking. Yet numbers were still left behind, and roused from their
stupor by the increasing heat, came rushing to the port, and plunging
headlong into the sea. It was but changing their mode of death, for
the watery element, equally fatal with that from which they strove to
escape, ingulfed them in its dark abyss, at once their destruction and
their grave.
I was compelled to put some of my rescued party in the launch, and
then pulled briskly for the frigate. The female I had thus saved was
still insensible; but yet, as she lay extended in the stern sheets
of the boat, with her head resting on my knees, I could feel the
tremulous palpitation of her heart, and hope whispered that she might
yet recover. She appeared to be young, but her dark hair hung in
thick flakes down her face, so as to conceal her features. The worthy
coxswain had wrapped the infant in his jacket, and it was now sweetly
sleeping in the box by his side. Several of the sufferers, restored to
fresh air, speedily recovered; but it was only to lament some one whom
they supposed had perished.
In the bows of the boat an elderly man raised his white head, and
with incoherent language inquired where he was. The bowman soothed
him, and tried to explain his situation; “But my son! my daughter!”
he exclaimed, “where are they?” then turning to the burning ship
continued, “wretched--wretched man, they are lost--lost for ever--and
I yet live!” He struggled to throw himself into the sea, but overcome
with weakness, fell backward.
At this moment, another voice faintly uttered “My father! my father!”
A cry of ecstacy burst from the old man’s lips:--it was his son. The
youth lay near him, and the exclamation drew my attention towards him;
he started up like one awaking from a frightful dream, and glared
wildly around. But, oh God! in what language can I portray the various
feelings which alternately took possession of my soul, when fixing
his look on me, I saw the countenance of Sir Edward’s son. A sick
shuddering came upon me. The old man had called upon his daughter, and
in an instant the inanimate body of the young female was raised in my
arms. I parted the dark tresses that obscured her face, and as the red
glare of light shone upon it, recognised my Agnes. Yes, it was she; my
arm had encircled her neck--my hand had been pressed upon her heart;
but then I knew her not, and now to find her thus! Sobs of anguish and
tumultuous bursts of joy followed in rapid succession. “You have saved
her, sir,” said the coxswain, and a glow of pleasure filled my heart.
Sir Edward and his son had relapsed into stupor, and shortly afterwards
we reached the frigate. I sprang upon the deck to inform the captain
who it was that I had brought, and then returned to the boat to see
my only--my richest treasure safely conducted up the side. In my
arms I carried the dear girl to the captain’s cabin, and stole one
kiss from those lips which I had pressed with such delight in early
infancy--clasped her to my heart, and then hastened back to my duty.
Once more I reached the ship; but all approach was now impossible, and
we could only pick up those who were enabled to swim, and occasionally
by great hazard run so close as to receive some poor sufferer from the
wreck. Yet there were many who still remained, and dreading to trust
themselves to the sea, hung tremblingly between two deaths. My boat
was once more filled, as were also all the rest, and we made for the
frigate, which had arrived within a short distance.