"I was certain that you had come either to bring me notice of my lost
one, or that you would aid me in discovering him," she exclaimed, taking
his hand. "I trust to you, Captain Alvarez, and I am sure that you will
not deceive me."
The captain assured her that he would be faithful to his promise, and
explained all he knew of the plot which had been formed to carry off her
son, to prevent him from inheriting his title and property.
"But cannot we punish the treacherous marquis and kinsman?" she
exclaimed. "Cannot we compel him to tell us where my child has been
carried to? Has the law no power in your country?"
"None, lady, in this matter," answered Pedro. "I myself am an outlaw; I
can never return as a free man to Spain. I have been guilty of a crime
so heinous in the eyes of the law, that should the officers of my own
ship discover it, they would be compelled to carry me there in chains.
My dread, therefore, is lest we should fall in with any Spanish ship,
from which they may learn what has occurred." He then briefly told her
how he had killed the officer of the Inquisition who had tried to
apprehend him.
"But the priest, Father Mendez; surely he can aid us?" said Hilda.
"Unless you can show him that by his aiding you he can advance the
object for which alone he lives, he will stir neither hand nor foot in
the cause," answered the Spanish captain. "Besides, I am certain that
he believes the child still safe in the castle."
"Then, Captain Alvarez, I must place all my hope on you," exclaimed
Hilda.
"Place it on the justice of heaven, lady," he replied, solemnly.
Hilda made no reply, but her beautiful features wore an expression of
the deepest, the most hopeless distress.
Pedro Alvarez having obtained from Lawrence, and others, every
particular about the attack on the castle, as well as a description of
the child, and even the appearance of the men who carried him off,
returned on board his brig, and the next day sailed for the southward.
His coming had thrown Hilda into a painful state of agitation. She had
not recovered from it when the smack with Colonel Armytage on board
anchored before the castle. Edda's joyous countenance formed a great
contrast to her melancholy look. Sir Marcus met her, as she was
preparing to receive her future brother-in-law, and harshly ordered her
to appear more cheerful.
"Those lachrymose features of yours will raise suspicions in his mind
which may induce him to make disagreeable inquiries," he said, in an
angry tone. "I know his disposition, and fully believe that, should he
discover anything to displease him, he is capable of breaking off the
match altogether. Should he do so, remember, Hilda, you will be
answerable for the consequences."
"Can you intrust my sister's happiness with such a man?" asked Hilda.
"I am the best judge on that point," was the answer.
Colonel Armytage soon came on shore, attended by two servants. He was
decidedly handsome and gentlemanly, and though at times his manner was
somewhat haughty and reserved, he was often so courteous and agreeable,
that he quickly regained his place in the good graces of those with whom
he associated. Hilda, indeed, soon forgot her father's remarks, and
felt perfectly satisfied as to the prospect of her sister's happiness.
Colonel Armytage was accompanied by two friends, brother officers.
Their presence made the castle far more lively than it had wont to be
for many a long year; but all their sallies could not dispel the
melancholy which Hilda could not hide even from them. Sir Marcus very
narrowly watched Lawrence, who had become intimate with them; but
whether or not he had told them of any of the occurrences which had
lately taken place, he could not ascertain. It was a relief to him
when, the day of the wedding having arrived, the castle was filled with
the families of sufficient distinction to be invited to it. Hilda could
not but feel that they generally regarded her with looks of curiosity,
and, at the same time, of compassion, excessively annoying to her
feelings. Often as she approached a group she found them whispering,
and she observed that their manner was constrained, and that they either
became silent, or had evidently abruptly commenced a fresh subject of
conversation.
Nothing, however, occurred to interrupt the marriage ceremony. How
different did it appear to the unhappy Hilda to that by which she had
been united to Don Hernan!
It was not till Colonel Armytage was about to take his departure, with
his bride, for the south, that on taking his leave of his father-in-law,
he showed that he was aware of what had taken place. He drew himself up
haughtily as he remarked--
"My love and esteem for your daughter, and a sense of honour, compelled
me to fulfil my engagement with her; but I must ever regard with
feelings of distrust and contempt the man who would conceal from me
matters of which I ought to have been informed. We shall probably
seldom, perhaps we shall never, meet again--our doing so can produce
little mutual satisfaction."
Sir Marcus looked confused, and could make no answer, and in silence he
handed his daughter into the boat which was to convey them on board
their vessel. His feelings were not soothed by hearing Lawrence give a
loud laugh, and sing--as he hopped and skipped up the causeway--
"The prince will hae his ain again! The prince will hae his ain again!"
The summer passed away, and business compelled Sir Marcus to visit
Scotland. During his absence Rolf Morton returned to Shetland. How
different was his home to what it had been! Its chief ornament, its
only attraction was gone. He frequently came up to the castle to see
his child; but he was soon convinced that he could not, as usual, spend
the winter at home, and he determined to go to Leith to seek for the
command of some ship sailing to southern latitudes.
A few days before he took his departure Sir Marcus returned to
Lunnasting. They met, and the baronet eyed him with so sinister an
expression that an uncomfortable sensation crept over the heart of the
bold seaman, and he felt that he was in the presence of one who would do
him an injury if he had the power.
Bidding farewell, however, to Bertha Eswick and his boy, he sailed for
Leith, believing that for this time, however, he had escaped the malice
of his enemy. He was mistaken. He had not been at Leith many days
before he had the offer made him of the command of a fine ship bound
round Cape Horn. The preliminary arrangements were soon made, but the
usual papers were not yet signed. As he walked through the streets of
Leith he more than once observed a man, who, he felt certain, was
dodging his steps, and whom he observed watching him as he entered his
lodgings. The matter, however, did not make much impression on him. He
was on his way to the owner's office to conclude the arrangements for
his taking command, when, as he was passing along the quays, he was
accosted by the individual he had remarked following him, and who now
asked him if his name was Rolf Morton.
"That is my name," he answered.
"Then you are the very man I want to see," was the reply. "Come along
under this archway."
Morton unsuspectingly followed his guide, but no sooner had he reached
the arch, than a body of seamen rushed out of a door close at hand. He
was wondering where they were going, when he found himself surrounded by
them, and dragged off to a boat lying at a jetty not far off.
He was in the hands of a press-gang. He had no power of making any
resistance. He was forced into the boat, which pulled away to a
ship-of-war at anchor in the Forth. He explained that he was virtually
master of a merchantman, and that the owners would suffer loss should he
be detained. He was ordered to exhibit his protection. He had none.
His remonstrances were unheeded. He found that with his will, or
against his will, he must serve his Majesty. Many other men had been
brought on board in the same way that he had been.
"It matters little, if a man does his duty, in what condition of life he
is placed; he may be equally happy in one as the other," he said to
himself; "I shall have fewer cares and responsibilities as a
man-of-war's man, than as a master of a ship. Why should I sigh and
moan thus over my lot? What can't be cured must be endured. Yes, sir,
I'll serve his Majesty, and serve him well, I hope," he exclaimed aloud,
turning to the officer who was examining the pressed men.
Rolf Morton kept his word. He was soon known as one of the best men in
the ship, and he had not been long on board before he was raised to the
rank of a first-class petty officer. He saw much service in various
parts of the world. Wherever work was to be done he was foremost in
doing it. Had he been younger, he would probably have been placed on
the quarterdeck: but he was unambitious, and contented with his lot,
though he, at last, was made a warrant officer, and ultimately became
boatswain of a dashing frigate, under as gallant a captain as ever took
a ship into action.