LAWRENCE BRINDISTER VISITS THE SPANISH SHIP--DON HERNAN INVITED TO THE
CASTLE--SURLY GRIND, LAWRENCE'S DOG.
The accounts which Don Hernan had received from various quarters while
on shore at Lerwick about the inhabitants of Lunnasting Castle had
excited his curiosity and interest to the highest pitch. Though fully
intending to return shortly to Lerwick, he had an object in suddenly
leaving Brassay Sound. He also wished to arrive unexpectedly in the
neighbourhood of Lunnasting.
Rolf Morton came at his summons; and understanding the "Saint Cecilia"
was shortly to return to Lerwick, not having reason to suspect fraud of
any description, he, without hesitation, took the ship on to Eastling
Sound. She had not been long at anchor before Lawrence Brindister--who,
as was his custom, had been at an early hour of the morning out
fishing--espied her, and very soon made his appearance on board.
Lawrence walked about the deck admiring the guns and the carved and gilt
work with which the ship was adorned; for it was the custom, especially
in the Spanish navy, in those days to ornament ships of war far more
profusely than at present. At length Don Hernan came on deck. He
observed the skiff alongside; and his eye falling on Lawrence, he very
naturally at first took him to be some poor fisherman habited in the
cast-off finery of a gentleman. Lawrence, however, guessed who he was
from his uniform, and, shuffling along the deck, made him one of his
profoundest bows, which Don Hernan returned with one in the same style.
As it had not been, impressed on Lawrence's mind that there existed
numerous nations speaking different tongues, he at once addressed the
Spanish captain in English.
"Your people, good sir, have been very silent: not one has spoken to me
since I stepped on board this trim craft of yours; for you have, I
conclude, the happiness of being her captain, and you have, I hope, a
tongue with which to hold pleasant and profitable converse."
"I command this ship, and I am able to converse in English," answered
Don Hernan, wondering who his strange visitor could be. "May I ask in
return whom I have the honour of addressing?"
"No less a person than Lawrence Brindister, Lord of Lunnasting Castle
and the lands adjacent," answered Lawrence, drawing himself up--"that is
to say, who would be, and should be, and ought to be, had not certain
traitorous and vile persons, who shall be nameless, interfered with his
just rights, and ousted him from his property. But say not a word about
that, most noble stranger. `A guid time is coming--a guid time is
coming.' `The prince shall have his ain again!'"
Don Hernan at once perceived his visitor's state of mind.
"I had thought that Sir Marcus Wardhill was Lord of Lunnasting, though I
am aware that, from times immemorial, it has been held by Brindisters,
of whom I conclude you are one," remarked the captain.
"Ay, there's the rub," said Lawrence. "You see, most noble captain,
I've a difficulty in steering my craft; I never can keep her in good
trim. Sometimes she luffs up, and sometimes she falls off; so as to
holding a steady course, I find that out of the question. Ah, now I
know all about it. I have come, most noble captain, feeling assured
that you are of gentle birth and a man of honour, to invite you and your
officers to visit Lunnasting Castle. My cousin and I will do our best
to receive you as becomes your rank."
Don Hernan, who believed that Miss Wardhill had really sent this strange
being to invite him to the castle, replied, in suitable terms, that he
should have great happiness in paying his respects to her. He also
explained his connection with the Brindister family, and begged Lawrence
to say that he hoped to visit Lunnasting in the character of a kinsman.
Lawrence was about to step into his boat when he saw Rolf Morton, who,
hearing that a boat was alongside, had just come on deck with the
intention of going on shore. He and Rolf were always on very good
terms; so, when the latter begged for a cast on shore, he gladly
undertook to land him wherever he wished.
"Abreast of the ship will suit me, for in half an hour I can be at
home," answered Morton. "Good-bye, Don Hernan; should the wind shift, I
will be on board in a trice; or should you want me, send. We have not
so many houses in Whalsey that mine cannot be found without difficulty."
Saying this, he was following Lawrence into the skiff, when the latter
cried out, "Hold fast! you are stepping on Surly Grind, Morton; he'll
not like it, let me tell you. He's apt to treat with scant ceremony
those who offend him."
Morton looked down, and saw, coiled away at the bottom of the skiff,
where Lawrence had taught him to lie, a huge black dog, with an
unusually ferocious expression of countenance, though from his coat he
had evidently much of the Newfoundland breed in him, but his face showed
that he had also much of that of the mastiff and bloodhound, probably.
"Lie down, Surly Grind, and treat my visitors with respect," said
Lawrence; and the dog, which had lifted up his head and begun to growl
and snarl, crouched down as before.
"Now, take your seat, man, and I'll show you how a true Shetlander can
pull," said Lawrence, taking his place at the oars and giving several
rapid strokes.
"But I deem that I have a right to hail from Shetland also, Master
Lawrence," answered Morton. "There is no other land owns me, and it is
hard for a man to be without a country or a home."
"Ay, true; you have a Shetland look and a Shetland tongue, and I believe
that you have a Shetland heart also, Morton. `The prince shall hae his
ain again, his ain again!' That's a curious old Scotch song; it's
always running in my head. `The prince shall hae his ain again!' Well,
but, you know, Morton, he didn't get his ain again; so I've heard nurse
Bertha say. She's a wise woman, your mother-in-law, and my good cousin,
too. Well, well; there are ups and downs in this life. All don't get
their ain, that's poz; if they did, another'd be sitting on George's
throne; but that's treason, ye ken; and another'd be ruling in
Wardhill's room, but that's treason, too; so I'd better be holding my
tongue, or all the cats I've got in my bag will be jumping out and
playing more pranks than either you or I, or Sir Marcus Wardhill to
boot, will be able to stay."
Rolf Morton was too well aware of poor Lawrence's state of mind to
listen with much attention to what he said; but his curiosity was
sufficiently awakened by some of the remarks he let fall to make him
resolve to learn more about the matter from Bertha Eswick as soon as he
could meet her.