A STRANGE SCHOONER APPEARS OFF LUNNASTING--THE CASTLE ATTACKED--THE
PIRATES ENTER THE CASTLE--YOUNG HERNAN CARRIED OFF.
The winds whistled round the towers of Lunnasting, and the wild waves,
as they were wont, washed the base of the rock on which it stood, and
time sped on without any material change taking place among its
inhabitants. Hilda spent the greater portion of the day in her turret
chamber, gazing out--when not engaged in nursing her child--on the
wide-spread ocean, and thinking of him who slept beneath its surface.
Her infant, however, was her constant and only source of interest.
The little fatherless infant grew and flourished, and gave every promise
of becoming a strong healthy boy. Meantime the health of Bertha Morton
became week after week worse and worse, and her mother began to fear,
too justly, that her days on earth were numbered. Rolf had been
compelled to make a voyage to Greenland, as first mate of a ship; and he
came back only in time to have his little boy put into his arms and to
receive the last breath of the wife he so fondly loved. At Hilda's
special invitation the young Ronald was carried up to castle that his
grandmother might have the entire charge of him.
"He will make a good playmate for my little Hernan, dear Bertha,"
observed Hilda; "so you see he will amply repay me for any advantage he
may obtain by the arrangement. I trust the boys may be friends through
life. They are of kindred blood, and Morton is a person in manners and
conduct far above the position he holds. From his appearance it has
more than once occurred to me that he must be of gentle blood. He that
is gone, who saw a good deal of him, several times made the same
remark."
"He was brought up by a good, kind, Christian man, and it is on that
account, rather than on account of his birth, that he possesses the
qualities of which you so kindly speak, my dear mistress," answered
Bertha.
Hilda made no reply; affliction had not taught her to adopt the
principles which guided Bertha's conduct.
The brief daylight hours of the northern winter had once more begun to
increase, when Hilda received a letter from her father, announcing his
intention of returning to Lunnasting in the early part of the summer,
with Edda. He also spoke of her sister's engagement to a Colonel
Armytage, remarking that the marriage would soon take place.
It is scarcely possible to describe the varied, but chiefly painful
feelings which this information created in Hilda's bosom. Her father
had hitherto remained ignorant of her conduct, and she felt that he
would be very justly incensed when he heard of it. Still she was too
proud and self-willed to meditate for an instant asking his pardon, or
seeking for reconciliation, and her whole thoughts were occupied in
considering how she could best meet the storm of indignation and anger
which she expected to burst on her. For Edda, however, she had as warm
an affection as it was in her nature to feel for anybody so totally
different as her sister and she were to each other. She could scarcely
help despising Edda for her gentleness and her kind and affectionate
disposition, as well as for the implicit obedience she yielded to their
father's often imperious commands.
"I pray heaven the gentleman our sweet Miss Edda is going to marry is
worthy of her--good, and generous, and kind--or it will break her
heart," said nurse Bertha, as they were talking over the subject
together.
"It takes a good deal to break a Wardhill's heart, or mine would have
gone long ago," answered Hilda, with a sigh so deep and sad that it made
Bertha's sicken as she heard it.
Lawrence Brindister was as little pleased as any one with the report of
Sir Marcus Wardhill's intended return. Poor Lawrence had that
instinctive dread of his guardian which a cat or a dog has of the person
who takes every occasion of giving them a kick or a buffet when they
meet. He felt that he was unjustly and tyrannically treated, yet he had
no means of breaking away from his thraldom. Sir Marcus had a very
simple plan for keeping him within bounds; he never intrusted him with
money; and as poor Lawrence was known to be of unsound mind, nobody was
found willing to lend him their gold to supply his wants, as none of it
was ever likely to be repaid.
Pending the expected arrival of her father, Hilda was seated as usual at
her turret window; now gazing at her infant, who was sleeping on a pile
of cushions at her feet; now casting a glance across the ocean, over
which the sun, now declining towards the west, was casting a rich glow,
when her eye was attracted by the white sails of a vessel which, lighted
up by his beams, shone like driven snow. There was a light wind from
the south-east, before which the vessel under all sail was standing in
towards the land. Hilda, who from having lived all her life near the
sea was well acquainted with the rigs of vessels, recognised the one now
approaching as a schooner, and from her wide spread of canvas she judged
that she was a large one.
On stood the stranger, directly towards Whalsey. At first, from the
bold way in which she approached, Hilda thought that she must have a
pilot on board, but as she drew in with the channel between the south
end of Eastling and the little island known as Grief Skerry, she hauled
her wind, and then went about and hove-to, with her head off shore.
"What can possibly be her errand here?" said Hilda to herself. "Can my
father be on board her? But no, he would have stood on, and brought the
vessel to an anchor."
The family retired to rest at the usual hour of ten o'clock, and
probably not long after that were wrapped in sound sleep. Not so poor
Hilda. The mistress of the mansion slept far less than any of those who
obeyed her orders. She invariably retired long after the household were
in bed, rose early, and probably seldom obtained more than an hour's
continuous sleep. On this evening her child had been somewhat fretful,
and Bertha insisted on carrying the little fellow off to sleep in her
room with her grandson, Ronald Morton. Hilda had reluctantly consented
to the arrangement, and frequently awoke with a start of terror on
missing her little companion from her side. At length she had fallen
into a comparatively sound sleep, when she was suddenly awakened by a
loud, crashing sound. She started up. The noise brought to her
recollection, with painful clearness, the moment when the "Saint
Cecilia" struck on the rocks of Ossa Skerry. She thought she must have
been dreaming, but again the sound was renewed. She felt confident that
it was caused by heavy blows dealt against a small postern gate which
led out on the front terrace overhanging the sea. From the noise, Hilda
suspected that this had already partly given way, and she feared that
the assailants, whoever they were, would already have gained an entrance
before she could summon any of the servants to resist them. Besides
Lawrence, it was not likely that there were more than five or six men in
the house. The bell belonging to her room led only to the chambers of
the women, and she feared that when they awoke, they would do little
more for the defence of the castle than scream; nor had she much
confidence in the valour of old David Cheyne, the butler. Still she
herself felt no overwhelming alarm. Throwing some garments round her,
she hurried to the hall, where a bell rope communicated with the
servants' room. She pulled it violently, and then hastened on to call
Lawrence. She had little confidence, however, in the way he might
behave; still, she had no reason to doubt his courage, and knew that if
he comprehended what was required, he was likely to be of as much value
as any other man. He had fire-arms, and so had all the servants, and
she hoped, if there was time for them to collect, to give the assailants
a warm reception. The door, it was evident, had resisted the first
attack made on it, for again there came a succession of thundering
blows, which echoed through the castle, and must have aroused the
soundest sleepers. Hilda took a turn up and down the hall to relieve
her impatience. She felt inclined herself to go to the gate to
ascertain how far it had resisted the attacks made on it, but she
reflected that this would be folly, because, should she be seized by the
enemy, it would make all further resistance useless. Every moment her
impatience increased.
"What! are the men turned cowards?" she exclaimed, when she found that
no one appeared; "are they skulking in bed, afraid to encounter the
unexpected foe? Oh! that I were a man, to be able to fight as brave men
do! I thought better things of Lawrence. If they would but come, we
might yet drive back these marauders. It shall never be said that the
castle of Lunnasting was given up without a desperate struggle."
Again she rang such a peal, that Davie Cheyne must have been aroused,
had he been twice as sound asleep as he had ever been before. It
produced its effect, and with startled looks, his hair on end, with his
night-cap in one hand and his coat in the other, the old butler rushed
into the hall, followed by the other serving-men, and some farm
labourers who slept in the castle.
"Oh my lady!--oh Miss Hilda! Oh--I beg pardon, Madame Escalante--what
is the matter? What is going to happen?"
"That you, lazy-bones, have been snoring in bed, while the castle is
being attacked by a band of robbers or privateers; and that, unless you
stir yourselves to defend it, you may all be murdered as you deserve.
Quick!--get your arms, and try to defend the place. Where is Mr
Lawrence? Is he as cowardly as the rest of you?"
"No, cousin Hilda, he is not," said Lawrence, who entered at that moment
with a musket in one hand, a sword in the other, and a brace of pistols
in his belt. "I have been to take a look at the besiegers. They are
taking breath to make a fresh attack, and it's my opinion that we take
them on the flank, and if we work our guns well, we shall be able to
shoot them down before one of them can return to their boats."
"Excellent, Lawrence," exclaimed Hilda, pleased with his unexpected
sagacity and promptness. "Place the men as you think best. What could
induce an enemy to attack this place, it is difficult to say, unless
from its apparent strength they suppose it contains large stores of
plate and jewels. However, I trust to your courage and conduct to
disappoint them."
While Hilda was speaking, some of the men were loading their firelocks;
others found that they had forgot their ammunition, and ran back to get
it; and Davie Cheyne was putting on his coat and arranging his garments
in a seemly manner, and stuffing a night-cap into his pouch, he armed
himself with a huge blunderbuss, which, with its ammunition pouches,
hung over the mantelpiece.
"Give me a musket!" cried Hilda. "Where there are not enough men, women
must fight. I would sooner lose my life than allow these marauders to
enter the castle."
Hilda was speaking while Davie Cheyne was getting down the fire-arm and
handing it to her. Not another moment was then lost, and the party, led
by Lawrence, were hastening to the eastern tower which commanded the
gate, when several of the women rushed with loud shrieks into the hall,
exclaiming that the robbers were breaking into the castle, and that they
were all going to be murdered.
"Silence, wenches!" cried Hilda, indignantly. "When I show signs of
fear it is time for you to be afraid. Those who have the nerve to load
the guns come with me; the rest go and remain with Bertha Eswick and the
children. She will shame you, I doubt not, by her coolness."
Two of the damsels alone were influenced by this address, and followed
their mistress, while the rest, every now and then giving way to a
shriek, ran up stairs as fast as they could go, to the nursery, where,
surrounding Bertha, who was sitting up with the children, they said the
mistress had sent them, and pulling away at her, entreated her to tell
them what was going to happen.
"Girls, girls; it is something very dreadful, I doubt not," she
answered, solemnly. "But shrieking and crying will not ward off the
danger. Let us rather silently pray to Him who can alone save us, for
protection and the safety of those we best love."
The girls were silent for a short time, but Bertha's address did not
seem to have much effect on them; and the sound of a volley of musketry,
which was soon afterwards heard again, set them off shrieking louder
than before.
The effects of the volley did not appear to have much availed the
defenders of the castle, for, almost before it had ceased, the
thundering blows on the gate were renewed with greater violence than
before, and the crashing noise which followed showed that it was
yielding to them. There were, as Bertha well knew, two small gates, one
within the other. The first had, as she suspected, given way to the
attack the assailants had first made, the crushing sound of which had
awakened her as it had Hilda. The second gate was the one against which
they were now directing their efforts. Lawrence had not been aware of
this, and he fancied that it was the outer gate alone which had to be
defended. On reaching the first storey of the tower, and on looking
from the window which commanded the space before this outer gate, he saw
a large group of armed men, apparently prepared for attacking it.
"There are the enemy! Have no parley with them! Fire, boys!" he
exclaimed, setting the example by discharging his musket. The rest
fired likewise, and apparently several of the enemy were hit; but,
instead of taking to flight, they fired in return, and several of the
Lunnasting party might have been hit had they not speedily retired from
the window. In the chamber below, however, there were several
loopholes, and in these they forthwith assembled, and commenced firing
away as before. Hilda had not used her musket; but she in no way felt
inclined to shrink from the contest, and her presence wonderfully
animated the rest. They soon, however, discovered that the first of
their defences had been taken, and that they were not in the slightest
degree impeding the progress of the attacking party, who, in spite of
the repeated volleys with which their comrades were saluted, continued
to batter away at the door with an evident determination to succeed. At
the same time the door was a very solid one, and resisted all their
efforts. Several of those outside had been wounded. One or two had
been seen to fall. This encouraged Lawrence and his followers.
"Could you not make a sally and drive them off?" at length exclaimed
Hilda, as the blows on the door became louder and more reiterated. "If
you rushed out suddenly they would not know how many men were following,
and might take to flight."
"They know well enough how many men are inside these walls, or they
would not have dared to attack us, my lady," observed Davie Cheyne.
"With your permission, my lady, we'll fight on till the powder is gone,
with the thick stone between us, but there is no use in venturing our
lives against six times our number without some such aid."
The firing on both sides now became very warm till two of the servants
were hit, and a bullet passed through the sleeve of Lawrence's coat. On
discovering this Hilda despatched one of the girls for bandages, while
she endeavoured to staunch the blood of the man who was most hurt with
her handkerchief.
"Thank ye, ma'am--thank ye, my lady," said the poor fellow, looking up
at her with an expression of gratitude in his countenance; "it will not
be much harm done, and if ye will let me I'll be at them again."
The girl was absent nearly a minute, and, as she appeared, in a voice of
terror she exclaimed, "the gate is giving way, and they will be into the
castle in a moment!"
The courage of Hilda and her two attendants formed a great contrast to
the behaviour of the women who had taken refuge with Bertha. The more
constant the firing the louder they shrieked; and, as the sound of the
blows on the gate reached them they clung to her gown, entreating her to
tell them what to do. At last there came a crash louder than any that
had preceded it, followed immediately by shouts and cries, and the
report of fire-arms, evidently inside the castle, and the cries and
shrieks increased, and then there was the heavy tramp of men's feet,
some hurrying along the passages, others ascending the stairs.
"Oh, they are coming here--they are coming here!" cried one of the
servant girls. "We shall all be murdered, and the castle will be burnt.
Oh, Mistress Bertha, where shall we run to?--where shall we hide?"
"Close the doors, girls," said Bertha, calmly. "Perhaps they will not
come here."
The sound of the footsteps drew nearer and nearer. One room after the
other was entered, and at last that next to the nursery. A moment
afterwards the nursery door was violently shaken. Bertha made a sign to
the women to keep silence, but in vain: as a heavy blow was struck
against the door, one of them shrieked out. Some words in a strange
language were spoken by men with gruff voices, and the next instant the
door was burst open, and a dozen or more armed men, fierce looking
fellows, rushed into the room. The girls fled to the extreme corner,
but the pirates--for that they were desperadoes of that description,
there seemed no doubt--took at first but little notice of them, turning
all their attention to Bertha and the two children. A tall sinewy
fellow, with long moustachios, stalked up to her, and, before she was
aware of what he was about, snatched one of the children from her, and
scrutinising its countenance returned it to her, and then seized the
other, which he examined still more minutely. He seemed sorely puzzled,
and pulled away furiously at his moustachios, while he talked and
gesticulated to his companions.
They then commenced an examination of the children, and were so absorbed
in the matter, that the serving girls were able to make their escape
from the room, while poor Bertha was left alone with the savage-looking
band of strangers. However, the matter was soon decided. The tall man,
who seemed to be the captain, attempted to snatch the one he had first
seized from poor Bertha's grasp. In vain she struggled, and entreated
him to let it go. Both the little fellows shrieked out with terror, as,
hugging them in her arms, she endeavoured to escape from him; but,
tearing the child from her, he held it up to his companions, and seemed
to be asking them certain questions. They nodded in return; and while
two of them held back poor Bertha, who was struggling to regain the
child, he threw a cloak over it, and, calling to his followers, hurried
down stairs. Bertha attempted to follow, in the hopes of regaining the
child, but, overcome with terror and agitation, she sunk exhausted on
the ground. The marauders took their way to the postern gate, by which
they had entered the castle. Near it was a room, at the door of which a
number of their companions were standing, guarding the defenders of the
castle, whom they had overpowered. Leaving them there, he passed on,
and, getting over the terrace parapet wall, he descended the cliff with
his burden towards the boat which lay at the foot of it, and to which
the men who had been wounded had been already conveyed. The little boy
was all the time shrieking out most lustily, and desiring to be taken
back to his mamma. Placing the child in the boat, with strict charges
to one of the men who were in her not to let it out of his arms, he
climbed the cliff again with the agility of a cat, and rejoined his
comrades. He addressed them in Spanish.
"My men," he observed, "we have thus far fulfilled our engagement. Now
let us recompense ourselves in case the promised reward should not be
forthcoming."
His proposal seemed to meet with the warm approval of all the party. It
was necessary, however, to leave some of them to guard the prisoners, at
which those who were to be left grumbled much. "No matter," he
observed; "three of you will do, and if any of the prisoners attempt to
escape, shoot them. It is the quickest way of disposing of those sort
of people."
Bertha had lain thus for some time, still grasping the little child, and
in spite of his piteous cries, unconscious of his presence, when she was
aroused by her mistress's voice exclaiming--
"Bertha, Bertha! where is my boy?--where is Hernan?"
"Your boy, Hilda! is he not here?" answered Bertha, scarcely yet fully
aroused. "Is he not here--here in my arms?"
"Here?--no! Where is he? who has him? Give him to me!" exclaimed
Hilda, in a tone which showed the agony of her terror.
"Oh! was it not a dream? Where is he, do you ask? What has happened?
Those men--they bore him away," said Bertha, trying to rouse herself.
"My boy gone? You gave him to them instead of your own," cried Hilda.
"Oh! woman--woman! Did you not know how precious he was to me? And you
let them take him! You should have died rather than allow them to tear
him from you."
"You wrong me, dear mistress," answered Bertha. "They chose yours--they
had come on purpose to get him, for they rejected mine. But have they
gone? Let us follow them: a mother's tears may induce them to give him
back."
"And I have lost all this time!" cried Hilda, putting her hand to her
brow, and moving from the room.
When the pirates forced their way into the castle, the defenders were
separated; Davie Cheyne, with the two serving girls, hurrying off their
mistress in one direction, while Lawrence and the men bravely opposed
them for some minutes, till they were completely overpowered, and
compelled to submit to the enemy.
Having provided for their prisoners, the captain of the pirates and his
men set off to engage in the pleasant occupation of ransacking the
castle. From room to room they went, injuring nothing, and breaking
nothing, except the locks of drawers, cabinets, chests, and cupboards.
These, as the keys were not forthcoming, they burst open to examine
their contents. They worked away briskly, but in no undue hurry. They
knew that the operation in which they were engaged should not be done
slowly, in case of interruption; at the same time at present, they had
no reason to expect any interference with their performances. They were
most of them evidently practised hands, for they were choice in their
selections, and took only the more valuable articles. Plate, jewels,
and ornaments were quickly transferred to their pockets, or to bags with
which they had come prepared; but, with the exception of a few clothes,
to which some of them took a fancy, and a collection of eatables from
the housekeeper's store-room, nothing else was carried off.
These matters being arranged, the captain ordered a retreat to be
sounded. It was time, for daylight was already coming on, and they
could not tell what assistance might be sent to the inhabitants of the
castle, as they knew that the sound of their firing must have given
notice to the neighbouring population that something unusual was going
on. With some derisive expressions, the meaning of which Lawrence
alone, of those who heard them, could understand, they left the party in
the room, simply turning the key on them, and took their way to their
boats. Just as they were shoving off through the twilight, a figure was
seen standing on the edge of the cliff, stretching forth her arms, and
shrieking out--
"My child--my child! Bring back my boy! Take him not away!"
In vain she cried, and those fierce men, cruel and callous as they were,
had not the barbarity to mock her. Without uttering a word, they pulled
rapidly from the shore. Giving vent to her feelings in cries, she
uttered shriek after shriek, and would have thrown herself into the
water, in her eagerness to follow them, had not Davie Cheyne come behind
her, and, seizing her in his arms, drawn her back from the edge of the
precipice. She broke from him, and was again rushing forward, when
Lawrence and a servant, who burst out of the room where they had been
locked in, ran forward and surrounded her. When they saw the boats, two
of them, who had secured some muskets which the pirates had overlooked,
threatened to fire on them; but as they levelled their pieces the
captain held up the child, and three or four bullets whizzing above
their heads, showed them that they would gain nothing by warlike
proceedings. Some of the men--and so did Lawrence--proposed manning Sir
Marcus's barge, and going in pursuit of the enemy; but the proposal was
wisely overruled by Davie Cheyne. "How could they expect, with a single
boat, and with but few men ill-armed, to capture two boats full of
well-armed men, perfectly practised in warfare, and who had already
shown their superiority?"
The argument was unanswerable, and the proposal was withdrawn. It was,
meantime, with the greatest difficulty that Hilda was held back from the
edge of the cliff.
"My child! my child!" she continued crying out. "Oh, bring me back my
child!"
The sound of her voice could no longer reach those she addressed. Away
pulled the boat towards the schooner in the offing; and as all hope of
recovering her soon vanished, she again sunk senseless into the arms of
those surrounding her.
When daylight increased, a schooner, which hoisted French colours, was
seen standing away to the eastward; but whence she had come, and where
she went to, no one connected with Lunnasting was ever able to discover.