DON HERNAN AND HILDA AT THE CASTLE--THE SPANISH OFFICERS ON SHORE--DON
HERNAN ORDERED TO QUIT SHETLAND.
"To my mind it wad ha' been better for one and a' of us, if Miss Hilda
had gone and wed with a true, honest-hearted Shetlander, instead of this
new-found foreigner, for all his fine clothes, and fine airs, and silk
purse; it's few times I have seen the inside of it." This was said by
old Davie Cheyne to Nanny Clousta, about two weeks after Hilda and her
husband had taken up their abode at the castle. "What Sir Marcus will
say about the matter, it makes me tremble to think of. It's my belief
he'll be inclined to pull the house down about our ears, or to send us
and it flying up into the sky together. I wad ha' thought she might ha'
found a young Mouat, or a Gifford, or a Bruce, or Nicolson. There are
mony likely lads among them far better than this captain, now; I can no
like him better than does Mr Lawrence, and that's a sma' portion
indeed."
"You're too hard, Mr Cheyne, on our new master," answered Nanny; "if ye
had seen the gold piece he gave me the day we came back to the castle,
and the beautiful silver one which he put into my hand only yesterday,
with the two pillars on it, you wad no say a' that against him. No, no,
Mr Cheyne, he's a fine gentleman, and a right fit husband for our young
mistress."
For more than a fortnight Don Hernan had not set his foot on board the
"Saint Cecilia." Both officers and crew had, however, begun to complain
at being left so long in so uninteresting a spot in perfect inactivity;
Don Hernan accordingly ordered the ship back to Brassay Sound under
charge of Pedro Alvarez.
Strange as it may seem, the news of Don Hernan's marriage with Miss
Wardhill had not yet reached Lerwick. There was at no time any very
regular intercourse kept up between the islands, and that which was
usual had been interrupted by the bad weather.
Rolf Morton, like a wise man, resolved to keep his knowledge of the
matter to himself, and to say nothing, while Father Mendez, the only
person belonging to the ship who, from being able to speak English,
could have communicated it, was not likely to say a word about the
matter, unless he had some object in doing so. Bailie Sanderson of
Lerwick was a staunch Presbyterian, and a warm hater of Episcopacy and
Popery; and it was a sore struggle in his mind how far he was justified
in having any dealings with the only representative of the latter power,
who had for many a long year ventured to set foot on the soil of
Shetland; in vain he tried to make the purser understand him. Stores
for the ship of all sorts were wanted, but no arrangements could be
made, and at length Father Mendez was called to their councils. The
bailie believed himself so fully guarded against any of the doctrines
held by the priest, that he had no fear as to any attempts he might make
to change his own opinions; but the truth was, that Father Mendez
understood him far better than he understood Father Mendez, who, had he
thought it worth his while, would not have made his approaches in a mode
the bailie was at all likely to discover till the foundations of his
fortress had been sapped and undermined. The priest, however, had not
the slightest intention of making an attack on the bailie's religious
principles, whatever might have been his mission to those northern
regions. There were some who did not fail to assert that he had
ulterior views; but he made himself generally so very popular, that the
greater number considered him a very well-behaved, harmless, kind
gentleman, who was ready to smile at all their amusements, even though
he might not partake in them, and was conversable and affable with every
one.
For nearly three weeks or more the "Saint Cecilia" remained at Lerwick,
and while her officers were busy gaining golden opinions from the
people, they spent a good many golden pieces among them.
"And after a' the real goud is the best thing o' the twa," as Bailie
Sanderson observed. "The one, unless, maybe, it's the deil's pay, will
rest in the purse, or bring something substantial in return, and is
muckle like the snow in the spring time; it looks very white and
glittering, but quickly vanishes awa."
At length Rolf Morton arrived from Whalsey with an order from Don Hernan
to Pedro Alvarez to carry the ship back to Eastling Sound. The corvette
was instantly got under weigh, and tide and wind suiting, she stood back
towards Lunnasting Castle. The inhabitants of Lerwick saw her departure
with no little astonishment, as not a word had been said to lead them to
suppose she was going. Some had their misgivings on certain material
points. Bailie Sanderson, especially, was very uncomfortable; he had
furnished a large amount of stores--far more than any one else had done;
but though he had got in his hands several bills, in the shape of long
bits of paper, accepted by Don Diogo Ponti, purser of His most Catholic
Majesty's ship, the "Saint Cecilia," and by Don Hernan de Escalante,
captain of the said ship, he had received very little hard cash, and
several of his friends, when they had looked at those strips of paper,
and turned and twisted them about, in a variety of ways, with an
expression in their countenances which betokened commiseration, hoped
that he might, by the mercy of Providence, get the siller for them, but
that it would be next a miracle if he did. In a moment all his airy
castles and the delightful profits he had anticipated were scattered to
the wind, while no one to whom he applied could afford him the slightest
consolation.
The most trying time in Hilda's existence had arrived. She had given
her heart to Don Hernan, and she had married him; but she had never
dared to reflect on the consequences of her doing so. When at length he
told her that the last packet from the south had brought him peremptory
orders to proceed on his voyage, the news came on her like a sudden
thunder-clap. No longer had she the power of acting, as of yore,
according to her own untrammelled will. She had discovered that
already. What would he determine? To let him go from her, and leave
her alone, were worse than death. When might he return? Would he ever
come back? What numberless chances might intervene to prevent him. Yet
the thought of leaving the castle, placed under her charge, was
naturally revolting to her feelings. Her father had intrusted her with
his property. Could she betray that trust without meriting his just
censure? Yet had she not already done enough to make him discard her
altogether?
"Yes, I have," she exclaimed, with some degree of bitterness. "How can
I stand the storm of rage, and then the scornful sneers with which he
will assail me? Accompany Hernan, I will, come what may of it. If he
refuses he shall not leave behind a living bride. Scorn, pity, or
anger, would be insufferable, and to all shall I be exposed if I
remain."
To such a resolution it might have been expected that a woman of ardent
temperament and untrained mind, like Hilda, would have arrived, whatever
course of doubt and hesitation she might have first gone through.
Don Hernan returned with a clouded brow from his first visit to his
ship. He found Hilda seated in her turret-chamber. He threw himself on
a sofa by her side.
"There has been discontent and well-nigh mutiny among my people," he
exclaimed in an angry tone. "I might have known that it would have been
so; idleness does not suit the fellows--I must take care that they have
no more of it; they will have plenty to do in future. Well, Hilda, our
happy days here must now come to an end. They have flitted by faster
than I could have expected." Hilda gazed in his face, trembling to hear
what might follow. He spoke calmly: "Yes, a few short weeks seem not
longer than as many hours; and now I fear, dearest, we must part, though
it may be but for a short period. I may obtain leave to return with the
`Saint Cecilia,' or you must travel south by a shorter route through
England, and thence on to Spain. I cannot shield you, I fear, from some
of the inconveniences to which sailors' wives are exposed."
"Leave me! Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Hilda, passionately. "Take me with
you. I cannot be parted from you! You tell me you love me: it would be
but cruel love to kill me; and I tell you I could not survive our
separation. I speak the truth--oh, believe me, Hernan,--I do!"
The Spanish captain looked at her as if he doubted her assertion; but he
would indeed have been a sceptic as to the depth of the power of woman's
affection had he longer continued to doubt when he saw her beseeching
and almost agonised countenance turned on him, waiting for his decision.
"But can you, Hilda, endure all the hardships and dangers we may have to
go through?" he asked. "We may be exposed to furious tempests, and
perhaps have to fight more than one battle, before we reach a Spanish
port."
"Yes, yes, I can endure everything you have to suffer," she answered,
taking his hand in one of hers, while she placed the other on his
shoulder, and looked up into his face as if she would read his inward
soul. "Why should I fear the tempest when you are on board, or the
battle, while I can stand by your side? Take me with you, Hernan.
Prove me, and I shall not be found wanting."
"Hilda, you are a brave woman--you have conquered my resolution. We
will go together," he exclaimed, clasping her to his heart.
The shriek of joy she gave showed the intensity of her anxiety, and how
it had been relieved by this announcement.
Still Don Hernan lingered. Was it that he was unwilling to tear himself
away from a spot where he had spent some of the brightest moments of his
existence? Had he other less ostensible motives for delay?
Hilda's announcement of her intended departure was received in silence
by Sandy Redland, the factor, and David Cheyne, the old butler. The
former, perhaps, was not ill-content to have the entire management of
the estate left in his hands. Nanny Clousta, without hesitation, agreed
to accompany her mistress, and thus the only person who really grieved
for Hilda's departure was Bertha Eswick. She walked about the castle in
a state of bewilderment very different to her usual collected manner,
and was continually asking herself if she could not have prevented the
result for which she mourned. The only person who seemed totally
unconscious that any unusual event was about to occur was Lawrence
Brindister. He treated his cousin and Don Hernan with a mock courtesy
which was excessively annoying, the more especially as it was utterly
impossible to resent it.
The hour of her departure arrived. Hilda had made every preparation for
it in her power; still the utter want of propriety in the step she was
taking pressed heavily on her spirits. Except her own garments and a
few of her books, she took nothing with her. "It shall not be said that
I am spoiling my father's house," she exclaimed, with some bitterness,
as she showed Bertha everything she wished packed up.
Don Hernan's barge was in readiness at the landing-place, where Sandy
Redland stood ready to receive the keys. As she left the castle, she
looked, as old Davie Cheyne afterwards remarked, "more like Mary Queen
of Scots, or some other great lady, going to execution, than a bride
accompanying her husband to his home." As she was about to step into
the boat she took Bertha's hand.
"Dear nurse and cousin," she whispered, "you know I loved you more than
any other human being, but I dare not show it lest my feelings should
run riot with me. Farewell! The future is all obscure and uncertain.
I dare not talk of when we may meet again."
Don Hernan took her hand and helped her into the boat. The word was
given to shove off--the oars were dipped into the water--when down from
the castle gate rushed Lawrence Brindister, followed closely by Surly
Grind.
"Ha! ha!" he exclaimed, in a hoarse, angry voice. "Fare-thee-well,
cousin Hilda--fare-thee-well! though you would leave your kinsman
without saying as much to him. And you, Don Hernan, fare-thee-well,
too. You think you have wedded with the heiress of Lunnasting. It's a
pleasant dream to believe that you will some day be master of those
lordly towers. Dream on as you please, but know the truth: `The prince
will hae his ain again! the prince will hae his ain again!'"
These words he continued singing at the top of his voice, pointing
derisively at the boat as long as she continued in sight.
Don Hernan urged the crew to give way, and with lusty strokes they sent
the boat flying through the water, till she was far out of hearing of
Lawrence's voice. Hilda sank back in her husband's arms, and hid her
eyes while she was passing under the walls of the dwelling she believed
that she was leaving for ever. With shouts of welcome the Spanish crew
received their captain's bride. Scarcely had she stepped on board than
the anchor, which had been hove short, was run up to the bows, the sails
were let fall, and, with a light breeze from the westward, the corvette
stood out of Eastling Sound.
Rolf Morton was on board as pilot. He bowed to Hilda, but his duty in
attending to the steering of the ship prevented his speaking. As she
looked at him, she felt that he was the last link which yet united her
with the past, and she almost dreaded the moment that he would have to
leave the ship. "Yet, after all, from what do I sever myself?" she
thought. "From associations only. Begone all such recollections. Let
me enjoy the delightful present, and the no less happy future I trust."
No day could have been more beautiful in any latitude than that on which
the "Saint Cecilia" sailed from Shetland. The sea was smooth, just
broken with a slight ripple, which glittered brightly in the rays of the
sun as the ship slipped quickly through it with a gentle breeze abeam.
The arrangements, also, which Hilda's husband had made below for her
accommodation were perfect. He, too, was kind and courteous in the
extreme; and had she been a princess, the officers could not have
treated her with greater respect. Over and over again she said to
herself, "I should indeed be ungrateful if I am not happy."
Having given a good offing to the Out Skerries, so as to avoid the
dangers near Feltar, the corvette stood to the northward, it being the
intention of the captain to round the northern end of Shetland, and by
that course to enter the Atlantic. Rolf Morton's boat was towing
astern, and he agreed to remain on board to see the ship clear of the
land. The weather was beautiful, the sea was smooth, the wind was
light, and there was every prospect of a pleasant commencement of a
voyage, as he finally wished her God-speed.
Soon after Rolf Morton had left the corvette, the wind, after veering
about for a short time, had got round to the southward, so that she was
able to haul up to the southward of west. This appeared a great
advantage gained, as it enabled her to keep exactly on her proper
course. How short-sighted truly are mortals in discovering what is
really to their advantage! The sun sunk in an angry glow of ruddy hue
which suffused the whole eastern sky, and cast an ensanguined tint on
the foaming crests of the fast-rising waves. Then, as if it had gone to
hurry on the storm, there rushed up from the dark bank of clouds
numerous detached masses, which flew rapidly across the sky, one chasing
the other in their headlong speed.
Don Hernan and his officers saw the storm coming, but they were anxious
to get as good an offing as possible before it had time to burst on
them, and therefore kept the ship under all the canvas she could carry.
On she flew, right into the eye of the rising tempest, so it seemed,
though as yet the wind held to the southward. The topgallant masts bent
and twisted like wands; still the captain would not allow the sails to
be taken in. The wind whistled more and more shrilly through the
rigging; each sea that rose seemed to increase in height, and to strike
the bows with greater force as the ship, frantically it seemed, forced
her onward way, while white driving foam flew in dense masses over her
forecastle, and sprinkled with its lighter showers the greater part of
the deck. A few stars came out and shone brightly overhead, but they
were quickly obscured by the gathering clouds; the darkness increased,
till nothing could be seen on either hand but the dark, tumbling seas
with their white foaming crests.
Pedro Alvarez had been watching the signs of the weather with anything
but a satisfied look. "We shall have it down upon us, Don Hernan,
before long," he remarked, going up to the captain. "If it catches us
with all this canvas spread, some of our masts will go, I fear."
"We may hold on yet for some time, I hope," was the answer. "I have not
forgotten yet the look of that rocky coast."
"Nor I either; and I therefore would try to keep my sticks to beat it
off," muttered the first lieutenant, as he turned away. It appeared,
however, that he was over-cautious; for some time longer there was no
alteration in the weather.
"After all, I am in hopes that the squall will pass over, and by the
time we have made good our westing we may get a favourable change of
wind," observed the captain, as the first lieutenant approached him. "I
am going below; call me, should anything occur."
"You will not have long to wait," said Pedro Alvarez, bluntly.
He was right. The captain's head was scarcely below the companion
hatch, when the ship, which had been heeling over to starboard till the
scuppers were under water, righted suddenly, and her sails flapped
loudly against the masts.
"Hands aloft, shorten sail!" shouted the first lieutenant, with an
energy that made every one start to obey the order. "Let fly topgallant
sheets! Be smart, my men."
The sails were being quickly handed. The officer had ordered
topgallant-yards to be sent down, and topgallant-masts struck, when a
vivid flash of forked lightning darted close ahead, across the ship's
course, followed by a terrific crash of thunder, which startled all on
board. Many thought the electric fluid had struck the ship. The
captain sprang on deck. He was just in time to see the ship taken aback
by the long threatening gale, which came down with greater fury from its
continued delay. Stern first she drove, the rising seas threatening to
engulph her. Pedro Alvarez was shouting out the necessary orders to
bring her round, so as once more to get headway on her. But the men
were aloft endeavouring to execute the previous order issued to them,
and some were obeying one order, some another. In vain Don Hernan
endeavoured to aid in restoring order. The object was to reduce the
after sails, so that those ahead might have greater influence. All the
masts were crowded with the labouring crew; fiercer blew the tempest;
there was a crash; wild shrieks, rising high above the howling of the
storm, rent the air. The mizenmast had gone by the board, and falling
over the starboard side had carried all those upon it into the boiling
ocean.
There was a second crash; the mainyard had gone, and it seemed likely,
from the way in which the mainmast bent and quivered that that also
would go. In vain many of the poor fellows cast from the mizen-mast
struggled for life; their shipmates were too busily occupied to afford
them assistance. Some had clung desperately to the rigging, and had
managed to regain it, and were endeavouring to haul themselves on board
again. Now one succeeded; now another, with a cry of despair, was
washed off, as the seas dashed furiously up against the corvette's
quarter, threatening to drive in her counter, or to carry away her
taffrail.
All the time the butt end of the mizen-mast was striking like a
battering-ram against the side of the ship, with every chance of
speedily making a hole in it. The main-yard, too, had fallen across the
deck, still held by lifts and braces from going overboard, more
dangerous in that position than if it had done so. The sudden blast
which had caused the destruction was only the first of the tempest.
Stronger and stronger it grew. It would be difficult truly to picture
the scene of tumult and confusion which the deck of the corvette
presented, all the time driving stern first at a fearful rate, now
lifted high up by the sea, now rushing downward into the watery gulf,
the opposite sea looking as if it would overwhelm her. The officers,
with loud shouts, were issuing orders in different parts of the ship;
the men, called off from their regular stations, rushing here and there,
not knowing which to obey, but still seeing clearly that each order
imperatively demanded to be instantly executed. In vain Don Hernan,
speaking-trumpet in hand, endeavoured to reduce the confusion into
order. At this juncture a flash of lightning revealed a tall figure,
with flowing white drapery, standing near the companion-hatch. He
shuddered with a superstitious feeling of dread. The next instant he
saw that it was his wife; he hurried up to her to entreat her to go
below. The darkness concealed the look of astonishment and dismay with
which she regarded the scene around her. In a moment Don Hernan was by
her side--
"Hilda, my beloved, this is no place for you. Oh, go below, I entreat
you, I command you. Any moment your life may be sacrificed."
"Why should I shun dangers, Hernan, to which you must be exposed?" she
exclaimed. "But what does this mean--what has happened?"
"A mere accident, to which all ships are liable," he answered. "There
is nothing to fear, if you will remain calmly in your cabin."
"But shrieks and cries for help reached my ears, and terrific blows,"
said Hilda. "Oh! do not deceive me, Hernan; surely some sad calamity
has occurred."
The captain saw that he could not deceive her, and not till he had
explained how matters really stood, could he induce her to return to her
cabin. Meantime Pedro Alvarez had succeeded in bracing round the head
yards and furling all the after sails. Slowly the ship answered her
helm and fell off; but as she did so, two seas in quick succession
struck her abeam, dashing across her deck, and carrying away the boats
stowed on the boom, and part of the lee bulwarks. Again shrieks for
help were heard; but the darkness prevented it being seen from whence
they came, though there was too much reason to fear that the same seas
which had washed away the boats, had carried off more of their
unfortunate shipmates. Once more the ship went ahead, but it was before
the wind, and she was flying back towards that iron-bound coast of
Shetland, from which all on board had been so eager to escape. Every
effort was now made to bring the ship on a wind either to heave her to,
or to stand to the northward or southward, so that, should the gale
continue, she might weather one end or the other of the islands. After
a time it was decided to haul up on the port or larboard tack, as it was
believed that she had made but little southing, and was in consequence,
nearer the northern than the southern end of Shetland.
On ploughed the "Saint Cecilia" through the darkness, and many a heart
on board dreaded the sight which daylight would reveal to them.