ROLF MORTON'S EXPEDITION--WATCHES THE CORVETTE--HILDA'S MARRIAGE
DISCUSSED--THE STORM--A SHIP SEEN DRIVING TOWARDS SHORE.
After Rolf Morton had left the "Saint Cecilia," and was steering for
Yell Sound, he recollected that a long time had passed since he had paid
a visit to an old friend, who had been Captain Scarsdale's first mate on
several voyages, but who had now retired from sea life, and settled at
Hillswick, in the southern part of that peculiarly shaped peninsula of
Shetland, called North Maven. There were two ways of getting there.
The most speedy was to haul up to the southward at once, and to steer
for Saint Magnus's Bay, so as to round the southern point of North
Maven, called Esha Ness; but then, when he wished to return to Whalsey,
he would have had to retrace his course along the whole western coast of
the peninsula before he could enter Yell Sound. Should the weather
continue fine, this would be of little consequence; but in bad weather
the voyage would be one of great danger, as standing out as do its lofty
cliffs, to brave the whole roll of the Western Ocean, on no part of the
coast does the sea break with more terrific fury. The other course was
to run up Yell Sound as he had intended; but, instead of passing through
it, to land on the southern shore, in one of the many small voes or
inlets, to be found there, so that a walk of a mile or so would enable
him to reach the house of his friend Angus Maitland. Before determining
what to do, he cast his eye seaward round the horizon. The low bank of
clouds he there observed, just rising, as it were, out of the water,
made him keep the boat on the course he had before been steering.
Before many minutes had passed the increasing wind showed the wisdom of
his determination. Away bounded the boat over the rising seas; but no
sooner had she entered the Sound than she glided smoothly along over its
calm water, and soon reached the point where Morton proposed landing.
All the crew, however, had some excuse for visiting Hillswick. Angus
Maitland's abode was known for its hospitality, and no one ever came
there who did not receive a hearty welcome, and the best accommodation
he could afford, suited to their rank and position. The boat was left
securely moored in a little voe, where not the fiercest of storms from
without could reach her.
Honesty is a characteristic of the Shetlanders, and Morton and his crew
knew well that should she by chance be discovered, not a rope-yarn would
be taken away. A high heather-covered hill lay between the spot where
they landed and Hillswick. Morton stopped when he reached the top, and
took a glance along the whole western horizon, which lay open to view.
The corvette was already hull down, standing on close-hauled to the
southward of west, in which direction the bank of clouds he had before
remarked had greatly increased in height and denseness.
"She is making a good offing, and the Spaniards will have reason enough
to be glad they have done so," observed Morton. "The squall brewing out
there will be down upon them before long, hot and strong; but if they
heave the ship to at once, it will have blown itself out before they
have time to drift back near enough to our coast to come to any harm."
The men assented to the correctness of Morton's remark. Perhaps they
did not as warmly wish for the safety of the corvette as he did.
Formerly, probably, they would have prayed that Providence would
mercifully drive her back, and wreck her in some convenient spot among
the rocks, where, though the crew might be lost, whatever was of value
in her might be cast on shore for the benefit of the people.
Angus Maitland spied Morton coming down the hill, and, his portly figure
clad in a suit of grey shepherd's plaid, and a stout stick in his hand,
he sallied forth to meet him. His greeting was warm and hearty.
"Come along, Rolf--come along, man; now I've got you I'll keep you," he
exclaimed, when Morton had told him how it was he had come to North
Maven. "Your guid wife will spare ye for a day, and she'll guess that
you would not pass within hail of our shores without coming to see me."
Morton, however, urged that Bertha was not aware that he had come round
to the west coast; that she would be expecting him, and would be anxious
if he did not appear.
"Stay, though," exclaimed his host. "There is Sandy McNab will be
crossing the mainland with his pack, and he will send over a message for
you to Whalsey; there will be no lack of opportunities."
Morton promised to stay away this night, should he be able to send a
message to his wife, to the effect that he was doing so. Sandy McNab,
the packman, was found on the point of starting, with his two
half-starved shelties, scarcely the size of ordinary donkeys, but with
wonderful strength of limb and power of endurance. He undertook that
Morton's note to his wife should be delivered without fail; and this
matter being settled, Rolf, in no way loath, accepted his friend's
invitation. There was good cheer for all hands, though dried fish,
oat-cakes, and whisky formed the staple articles of the feast.
Maitland of course wished to hear all about the extraordinary marriage
of the heiress of Lunnasting with the Spanish captain, for strange
stories had got about, and, as he observed, it was hard to know what to
believe and what to discredit.
"There's nothing so unnatural-like in the proceeding," observed the old
gentleman, after Rolf had given him a true, unvarnished account of the
affair. "He's a handsome gallant, and she's a very fine lassie, there's
no denying that; but at the same time, God's blessing does not alight on
marriages contracted without the parent's consent; and it's my opinion
that Miss Wardhill should have waited till Sir Marcus came home before
entering into a contract."
Rolf hinted that Sir Marcus's whole conduct was not such as to secure
the love and obedience of his daughter.
"That may be," answered Maitland; "he might not have gained her love,
but her obedience still was due to him. He left her, too, in charge of
the castle, and now she has fled from her post like a deserter. Poor
lassie, I would not be hard on her, though; and I doubt not by this time
she is wishing herself on shore again, for the gallant ship she thought
so brave must be pitching and rolling pretty heavily by this time."
The friends were at supper, and while they were discussing their food
and this same knotty subject, the loud barking of two Newfoundland dogs
which roamed round the premises was heard, answered by the fierce growl
of another of the canine race, which seemed to come from some little
distance off.
"This is a late time o' night for a visitor to come, but whoever he may
be he is welcome," said Maitland. "Here's to you, Rolf; we'll just
finish this glass, that we may have a fresh brew of toddy for him when
he comes."
Again the deep bark and growl of the stranger's dog was heard.
"There is but one creature in Shetland which barks like that," observed
Morton. "I should know his voice anywhere; it is Lawrence Brindister's
dog, Surly Grind. What can have brought him here?"
"He'll answer for himself, for here he comes," replied Maitland, looking
out of the window, whence the person in question was seen approaching
the house, mounted on the smallest and shaggiest of Shetland ponies, and
his legs, encased in top-boots, almost dragging along the ground, though
he managed, by a succession of sudden jerks, to lift them up so as to
avoid the numerous inequalities of the way. His odd appearance was
increased by his wearing a broad-brimmed hat and feather, and a
long-waisted coat, part of an old court-suit. When he came to the door
of the house, all he did was to stand upright, and to let his steed pass
from under him. He threw the bridle to Surly Grind, who took it in his
mouth, and lying down held it fast, the pony agreeing quietly in that
novel mode of being tethered. Just as Captain Maitland had risen to
receive him, he shuffled into the room, making a bow worthy of a
Frenchman of the old school.
"Welcome to Hillswick, Mr Lawrence," said Captain Maitland; "it is not
often that we have had the pleasure of your company of late. Come, sit
down and take your supper; it's a long journey you have made to-day, and
the air on the top of Ronas Hill is well calculated to give a man an
appetite."
"Not a bad notion, friend Maitland," answered poor Lawrence. "By the
same token, too, little Neogle and Surly Grind will be beholden to your
hospitality, for it is but a small allowance of food they have had since
we left Whalsey this morning. A bone for the dog, and a handful of meal
for Neogle, is all I'll ask. The pony will easily pick up enough by
himself to finish his supper."
Captain Maitland gave the necessary orders to an old man who acted as
his servant-of-all-work, but Surly Grind would not be induced to let go
the bridle, even though a savoury mess besides the bone was placed
before his nose, till his master had called to him from the window and
released him from his office. The pony, as soon as he had had his basin
of brose, and his bridle and saddle were taken off him, trotted off to
the plot of greenest grass in the neighbourhood.
"That is a curious name you have given your pony, Mr Lawrence,"
observed Maitland, when his guest was comfortably seated at supper. "It
is what would be called in Scotland a water kelpie. Is there anything
of the nature of a Trow in your little animal?"
"More, perhaps, than you think of, friend," answered Lawrence, gravely.
"Neogle can do everything but speak; whatever I tell him he does it
immediately. He follows me like my dog; he'll step into my boat and lie
down at the bottom of it, as readily as Surly Grind himself, or if I
order him to swim astern, he jumps in forthwith; and if I was to take a
cruise round the mainland, he would come after me as long as he had
strength to swim."
"He may do all that and not be a trow," observed Morton, laughing; for
he, as well as Captain Maitland, was anxious to prevent Lawrence's
thoughts running upon the recent events.
"Right, cousin Morton, right," answered Lawrence. "I came honestly by
him by purchase, and called him Neogle on account of his strength, and
sagacity, and docility. The country people gave the name of the Neogle
to a wicked sort of trow, whom they believe lives in the water, and
whose great aim is to carry off people to destroy them. On that account
he appears in the shape of a pretty pony, bridled and saddled, and all
ready for a pleasant gallop across the country. He has a great fancy
for carrying off millers. To do this he stops the wheel of the mill.
That makes the miller come out of the house to learn what is the matter.
On goes the mill once more, and when he looks about he sees the pony.
If he is a young miller, and has not heard about the Neogle, or doesn't
believe in it, or forgets about it--`Ho, ho!' says he, `the mill is
going on all smooth and pleasantly, so I'll just take a gallop, and be
back before it's time to put in more grist.' On that he leaps on the
seeming pony, when off goes the trow, fleet as the winds. Away, away he
goes. In vain the poor miller tries to throw himself off: a broken leg
or an arm would be far, far better than the fate awaiting him. He is
though, he finds, glued, as it were, to the saddle. On gallops the
Neogle over hill and down, and bog, and loch, and stream, and voe;
nothing stops him till the sea is reached, and then across it he flies
till he is over the deep water, when down he dives in a mass of flame,
with loud shrieks of mocking laughter, and never again is the poor
miller heard of."
"That's a curious notion, Mr Lawrence," observed Captain Maitland. "I
never heard it before; but do you say the people believe in it?"
"Troth do I; and why should they not?" answered Lawrence, blinking his
eyes. "There are many things which you have seen in your voyages, and
which would seem very strange to our people, if you were to tell of
them. As to the Neogle, I never saw one that I know of, but I should be
very cautious about mounting him if I did."
The evening was now drawing on, the storm which had for some time been
threatening had nearly reached the island; vivid flashes of lightning
darted from the sky, and loud thunder claps rolled almost overhead. A
sharp neigh was heard, and Lawrence Brindister started up.
"Ah, Neogle is aware of what is coming, and has trotted up to ask for
shelter," he observed, going to the window. "You'll let him have a
corner in your stable, captain, I dare say?"
The request was at once complied with, and scarcely was the pony under
shelter than down came the storm, the wind blowing furiously, with
torrents of rain, while the lightning flashed faster and brighter, and
the thunder broke in louder and more crashing peals. The rain kept the
party close prisoners in the house till it was time for them to retire
to bed. All night the storm raged. At an early hour Lawrence
Brindister was on foot, the rain had ceased, but the wind blew as
furiously as ever. Lawrence was seen to put on his boots, then hurrying
to the stable he mounted Neogle, and followed by Surly Grind, he was
trotting off, when Captain Maitland hailed him, and inquired where he
was going.
"To Navie Grind, Captain," was his answer. "I have a fancy for watching
the sea breaking over those cliffs, as it will be doing this morning,
and maybe I shall get a glimpse of the Spanish ship, for she is not so
far off our shores as some of you may think, and as those on board would
pray they might be."
"Heaven forbid that the Spaniard, or any other craft, is near our cliffs
at this time," said Morton. "There are good seamen on board her, and
she must have got a good offing before she met the gale."
"Still, we'll take a stroll across to Navie Grind, and have a look at
the Western Ocean," observed Maitland. "I love to watch it at all
times, in storm or sunshine; but, as my days of romance are over, we'll
have breakfast first. Morton, you'll agree to that? Mr Lawrence,
you'll join us? The sea will not go down before you have had time to
break your fast, nor will, I trust, the Spanish ship heave in sight."
Notwithstanding, however, all the hospitable old sailor's persuasions,
Lawrence would only be persuaded to take a handful of oatcake and a
draught of milk; and then away he trotted on Neogle, followed by Surly
Grind, towards the west. Morton and their host took their time in
discussing a far more substantial breakfast, consisting of salted and
dried haddocks, pickled pork, oaten cakes, and other substantial
articles of food, sufficient to astonish a southern stomach. The
captain then lighted his pipe, inviting Rolf to join him, and they
smoked away in that deliberate manner which showed that they considered
it a far pleasanter pastime than battling with the fierce gale outside.
Captain Maitland at length shook the ashes out of his pipe, and was
considering whether he should light another, when Lawrence Brindister's
voice was heard from below the window, shouting--
"The spirits of the storm have not failed in their duty; the proud
Spaniards will meet with their deserts. I knew it would be so. Hurra!
hurra! but I'm off again. I wouldn't miss the sight to be made Earl of
Zetland."
The two friends hurried to the window, and inquired what was the matter.
"Matter!" exclaimed Lawrence. "Why, that the Spanish corvette is
driving ashore, and that ere many minutes are over she and all on board
will be hurled to destruction. I would save poor Hilda if I could, in
spite of her pride and haughtiness, but that is beyond human power to
accomplish."
"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Captain Maitland. "The poor young lady, we
must at all events try to save her and those with her."
"Are you certain, Mr Lawrence, that it is the Spanish ship you have
seen?" shouted Morton; but he received no answer, for Lawrence had
turned Neogle's head, and was galloping off as hard as the little
creature could lay hoof to the ground.
"Whether Spanish or any other ship, we'll try what brave hearts and
stout hands can do to help the unfortunates on board her," said the fine
old seaman, Captain Maitland, as he hurried out of the house. "Here,
Sandy Neill, Davie Borthwick,--here, lads!" he shouted, and two stout
seafaring-looking men employed on his farm came running up. "There's a
ship ashore, or likely soon to be, and you'll be ready to follow me, not
to wreck and to plunder, but to save life, if so we can."
Both Sandy and Davie agreed to do whatever the captain wished, and
Morton's own crew were also quickly collected. Before setting out they
provided themselves with such coils of rope and long spars as the
captain's store could provide. Morton and his friend, armed with stout
sticks and coats buttoned up, followed by their men, set out with the
fierce gale blowing in their teeth, on their errand of mercy.