DIFFICULTY OF NAVIGATION--AN OLD ENEMY APPEARS--ENEMY CHASES THE
"OSTERLEY"--THE "THISBE" APPEARS.
The Indiaman, under the skilful pilotage of old Doull and his companion
Eagleshay, wound her devious way among the shoals and reefs which
guarded the entrance to the bay. Many of the ladies were collected on
deck--Edda was one of them; she eagerly watched every movement of the
young commander of the ship, as he stood in the weather rigging, or
sprang on to the hammock nettings that he might obtain a clearer view of
objects ahead. What she thought and felt it would be difficult to
describe, but other ladies who were watching him too, agreed that he was
a noble specimen of a true sailor. Not for a moment, however, did he
turn to look at them: now by hand, now by voice, did he direct the men
at the helm the course to steer. Rich and deep were the tones in which
the words--starboard--steady--hard a-starboard--port--port--hard a-port,
and similar orders were issued. Colonel Armytage was assisted on deck.
He overheard some of the remarks which were made, and seemed perfectly
ready to acknowledge their justice.
"Certainly I have seldom seen a finer young man," he observed with a
warmth unusual to him. "We owe him a debt of gratitude, too, for the
gallant way in which he rescued us from our disagreeable captivity.
By-the-by, to what family of Mortons does he belong? It never before
occurred to me to inquire."
Edda heard the question; it showed her that her father had begun to
think of Morton in another light than that of a common acquaintance. He
was no longer either disposed to treat him with the supercilious air in
which he did on their first acquaintance. She could have replied,
because Ronald had told her that he belonged to Shetland, but she could
not bring herself to speak. Those the colonel addressed hazarded
various opinions, but all were agreed that from his manner and
appearance he must belong to a noble family. Colonel Armytage seemed to
have the same impressions.
"Yes, certainly I mistook him at first," he remarked. "There were some
reports to his disparagement about a foolish duel, but from what I have
since seen of him, I have little doubt he was in the right. Such a man
would certainly never refuse to fight unless the man with whom he had
quarrelled was palpably in the wrong."
This was, for Colonel Armytage, saying a great deal. His companions
agreed with him. It did not occur to them that a man might refuse to
fight a duel from a higher motive than knowing that he was so clearly
right that the world could not help taking his part.
The observations she overheard made Edda's heart glow and beat quicker
than wont. To every word of praise it warmly responded.
"Yet they know not one-tenth part of his worth; his nobleness of mind,
his generosity, his tenderness," she said to herself.
Edda Armytage might, perhaps, have been inclined to over-estimate his
various good qualities, gallant fellow as he undoubtedly was.
The conversation to which she was listening was cut short by a cry from
the mast-head of "A sail in sight."
"Where away?" inquired Sims, who had charge of the deck.
"To the southward," was the answer.
That was not the direction the frigate was expected to appear. The ship
was not yet clear of the reefs. Sims went aloft, and came down with an
anxious look. He told Glover that he did not like the look of the
stranger. "She is a big ship, with square yards and white canvas: an
enemy, I am certain," he observed. "If she was to catch us jammed up
among these reefs she might handle us in a way which would make us look
foolish."
"We shall be clear, sir, before she can get near us," answered Glover.
"Besides, we have some bull-dogs as well as she has."
"Mere pop-guns to hers, depend on that," observed Sims. "What do you
say to her being a heavy frigate, capable of blowing this old tea-chest
out of the water?"
Morton was informed of the sail in sight, but he was too much occupied
in guiding the ship out of the labyrinth of reefs to make any other
reply than the simple one, "If she is like an enemy get the ship ready
for action."
What he felt his countenance did not show.
The "Osterley" continued to thread the narrow passage; the slightest
inattention would have brought her upon the reefs. Those who could
employ their eyes kept looking now at the approaching stranger--now at
the direction where they hoped the frigate would appear. At length old
Doull's deep voice was heard exclaiming, "We are free now, sir, of all
dangers; we may stand away to northward."
Ronald sprang down on deck, and the deep sigh which escaped his bosom
showed the anxiety he had felt.
"Brace up the yards on the starboard tack!" he cried out, as he stepped
aft, and, calling for his telescope, took a steady examination of the
stranger. He expressed no opinion as to what she was, but ordered all
the sail the ship could carry to be set on her. As she had now a large
crew this was rapidly done. The stranger must have seen, by the way the
"Osterley" made sail, that she was strongly manned. Captain Winslow and
his officers, after a long look at the former, pronounced her to be the
very ship which had captured them. Ronald longed to try and turn the
tables, and to take her, but a glance at the passengers made him feel
that his duty was in this case to do his utmost to escape. A bright
look-out was kept for the frigate.
"If the mounseers catches sight of she, they'll be inclined to put the
helm down pretty sharp, and go about on t'other tack," observed Job
Truefitt.
As the stranger approached all doubt as to what she was vanished. She
had before proved herself a good sailer. She maintained her character,
and with a regret almost amounting to anguish, Ronald saw that there was
little probability of avoiding a fight. He had brave men under him, but
the Indiaman was badly armed, and the enemy had before found her an easy
prey.
"We must, I fear, Winslow, place the ladies and children below, as you
did before," he observed, with a sigh. "I pray heaven the frigate may
heave in sight, for the honest truth is, I never felt so little inclined
to fight; yet, if fight we must, I should never fight more fiercely."
"Spoke like a brave man, Morton," answered his friend. "When I have
helpless women and children under my charge, though I would fight to the
last gasp to protect them, I would always rather run than fight."
"Sail ho! ho-o!" shouted the man at the mast-head, with a prolonged
cadence.
"Where away?" asked Morton.
"To the north-west," was the reply.
His heart gave a bound; it was the quarter in which the frigate was
likely to appear. He kept away a little towards her. The "Thisbe"
showed her number. The "Osterley" signalised, "We have all safe on
board. An enemy to the south-east."
There was no time for further greeting. The frigate made all sail and
stood on. The tables were now fairly turned. The Frenchman made her
out, and going about, stood away to the southward.
"We shall have Captain Gerardin and his sentimental lieutenant among us
again before long," observed Captain Winslow, rubbing his hands.
The corvette showed that she had a remarkably fast pair of heels, and
night coming on hid the pursuer, as distance had already hid the
pursued, from the sight of those on board the "Osterley." Sail was
taken off the "Osterley," and she was hove-to, that she might wait for
the return of the frigate.
A very important question now arose as to what port they should steer
for. The passengers very naturally begged that they might be carried to
Bombay, but Morton conceived that they ought to return to Calcutta.
However, that was a point Captain Calder could alone decide. Poor
Captain Winslow, on his part, wanted to get back the command of his
ship; but that of course, Morton had no power to bestow on him. All
were eager for the morning, but never did a night appear to pass by more
slowly. Dawn broke at last, and a sail was seen to the southward. She
proved to be the "Thisbe"--the corvette had escaped.
"We'll catch the fellow one of these days, though," exclaimed Captain
Calder. "And if he proves to be a pirate, and I believe he is very
little better, we'll hang him without compunction at his own yard-arm."
His captain highly commended Morton for his conduct, and decided that
the "Osterley" should return under his charge to Calcutta, where Admiral
Rainier still was, that he might decide how she should be disposed of.
"She's worth some thousand pounds to us Morton," he observed. "It will
help you to furnish house whenever you set up in that way ashore."
Ronald hoped that it would not be long before he should employ his
well-gained prize money in the manner his captain suggested. He cared
little to which port the "Osterley" might be sent, except that he would
have preferred the one at the greatest distance, which might have
prolonged the voyage.
Never had Ronald Morton been so happy. He was in the constant enjoyment
of the society of Edda Armytage. She no longer concealed her love for
him, and his attentions appeared to meet the approval of both her
parents. The days thus glided swiftly by. It was with anything but
satisfaction to him that the "Osterley" at length made the mouth of the
Hooghly. A line-of-battle ship was at the anchorage. As the "Thisbe"
brought up, the two men-of-war exchanged numbers, and Morton discovered
with infinite satisfaction that she was the old "Lion," on board of
which his father was boatswain.
Ronald was unwilling to leave the "Osterley" even for a short time, so
he despatched a boat with a note to his father, to inquire after his
health, at the same time giving an account of what had occurred, and
promising to visit him as soon as he was at liberty. No reply was sent,
but in a short time a boat from the "Lion" came alongside the
"Osterley," and Rolf Morton himself stepped on board. Ronald welcomed
his father with the affection of a son. He thought not of the
subordinate rank he held in the service, nor of the fine lady and
gentlemen passengers who might be making inquiries as to who he was.
After a short conversation on the quarter-deck, they retired to Ronald's
cabin, where a considerable time was spent in giving and listening to
accounts of each other's proceedings.
"And let me hear again this strange story you tell me of these old men,"
said Rolf. "I must talk to them, and listen to what, they have to say,
though I scarcely expect that any good will result to us from it."
Rolf Morton had never been of a sanguine temperament; he had become
still less so as he advanced in life. Ronald, on the contrary, was
accustomed to look on the bright side of objects. He believed that he
had obtained a clue which would lead to the discovery of a matter now he
felt of so much importance to his future happiness.
The two old men were sent for. They looked at Ronald, and then at his
father; but neither seemed willing to speak. Archie Eagleshay,
especially, put on a stupid expression of countenance, as if he had lost
all recollection of past events. After a time, however, Doull repeated
the account he had already given to Ronald, and the other old man nodded
his head to confirm the correctness of the statement.
"Would you swear to all this my friends, in a court of law in England?"
asked Ronald.
Even Doull hesitated. The idea of a court of law, in consequence of his
early transgressions, had terrors for him which he could not overcome.
As pale a hue as his sunburnt skin would allow came over old Archy's
face as he heard the words, and Ronald soon discovered that he had made
a mistake by putting the question.
"Well, my friends, we will not ask you to do what you do not like," he
remarked. "But do not you think that if it was to serve my father and
me, and that we would take care that you suffered no injury, you could
swear to the truth of the story you have told us? It is my belief that
you see before you the very man you assisted to carry off when a child
from his family and his country. He bears you no ill-will in
consequence. Surely you would wish to do your best to repair the injury
you have done him?"
"I would do anything to serve you, Captain Morton, that I would, sir, or
swear anything you please: and for that matter, so would Archy."
"No, no, my friends," exclaimed Ronald, somewhat inclined to laugh; "I
only wish you to swear the truth, nothing else can serve me. However,
the time for doing so has not yet arrived. We must get home first."
"The truth!" muttered Rolf Morton. "Where is that to be found? I doubt
that it will serve us anyhow."
"Well, dear father, all is in God's hands," said Ronald, after he had
dismissed the old men; "I have always been content and proud to be your
son, and to me, therefore, as far as my own feelings are concerned it
matters little who was your father, or to what family he belonged,
except--ah--I for an instant forgot--others may value family more than I
do." And Ronald told his father of his love for Edda Armytage, and of
his belief that his love was returned.
Rolf Morton listened earnestly. He had more knowledge of the world than
his son, and he was less accustomed to look on the bright side of
things.
He shook his head.
"I doubt not she is all you say, and I am grateful to her mother's
sister for instructing you in your boyhood, but I have little cause to
love her race. The old Sir Marcus worked me all the ill he could, and
from what I have heard of this son-in-law of his, he is a proud and vain
man, not likely to have much regard for the feelings of young lovers'
hearts. But cheer up, Ronald. You have a noble profession, and the way
to its highest rank is open to you."
"But Edda has promised to be mine, and her father could scarcely wish to
make her break her word," answered Ronald, with a simplicity which would
have made a man of the world smile.
"I would not damp your spirits, lad; but if you would escape having your
hopes stranded, don't trust too much to promises."
Ronald thought that his father was taking too desponding a view of
matters.
"We'll hope, father, that in this instance you are mistaken as to
Colonel Armytage," he answered, in a cheerful tone. "I am sure that you
would like both his wife and daughter."
"Ronald, my boy, you forget that I am a bo'sun," said Rolf, rising from
his seat. "Let us go on deck."
They there met Glover, who welcomed Mr Morton with the greatest
cordiality.
"I first went to sea with you, Mr Morton, you remember," he observed.
"You taught me more of seamanship than I ever learnt from anybody else.
Besides, you know if it hadn't been for your son I should long ago have
been food for the fish."
It was now time for Rolf to return on board the "Lion." His son and
Glover attended him down the side with as much attention as they would
have paid to an admiral.
A number of the passengers were collected on the poop-deck, waiting for
the boats to convey them up to Calcutta.
"Who is that man to whom Mr Morton and Mr Glover are paying so much
attention?" asked Colonel Armytage, who happened just then to look up
from his book.
No one could tell him. After he had seen his father off, Ronald joined
the party on the poop. He certainly would not have gone, had Edda not
been there. The feeling came forcibly on him that he ought to tell her
about his father. It had never occurred to him before. As he was going
up to address her, some ladies stopped him, and asked, "Who is that fine
looking, officer-like man who just now left the ship!"
"He is my father," said Ronald, firmly. Edda looked up at him with a
surprised expression.
"Why, Mr Morton, if I mistake not, he wears the dress of a boatswain,"
said Colonel Armytage, in a cool, deliberate manner.
"Yes, sir--he is boatswain of his Majesty's ship the `Lion.'"
"Your father a boatswain!" said the colonel in the same slow manner.
"You should have informed me of this before, sir."
"The question was not asked me," answered Ronald. "I was wrong, I feel,
in not mentioning it."
At that moment his eye caught Edda's, casting on him a look of such
sorrow and pain that he was about to spring to her side, when she
suddenly sunk on her seat, and would have fallen on the deck had not
Mrs Armytage and another lady at hand caught her in their arms.
"It is of no consequence," exclaimed Colonel Armytage, in a peremptory
manner; "you have undoubtedly duties to perform about the ship. We will
not detain you from them."
Ronald felt that his only dignified course was to retire. With a heart
bursting with indignation, he walked forward. Not long after this the
boats arrived to carry the passengers back to Calcutta, where they
purposed remaining till the arrangements respecting the ship were
concluded. Ronald had been directed to retain the command till it could
be legally restored to Captain Winslow.
Miss Armytage had gone below, and was kept out of his sight till she was
ready to leave the ship. He came to assist her down the side. She gave
him a look full of sorrow, but which he interpreted to mean, "Do not
think that what I have heard can diminish my affection for you; it were
worth little if it did." But she had scarcely time to falter out a few
words before her father stepped up and effectually stopped any further
communication.
The manner of Colonel Armytage, indeed, was so rude, that Ronald had to
recollect who he was, to assist him in commanding his temper.
The passengers in the boats were concealed by the awnings which covered
them, but Ronald could not help standing on the deck, watching them with
a heavy heart as they took their way up the broad stream of the Hooghly.
The next day he received three letters; two were official, one of them
was from his captain, expressing the warm approbation of Admiral Rainier
for his conduct in the attack on the enemy's forts; the other was from
the officials of the Honourable East India Company, promising him some
substantial proof of their sense of his merit. The third letter was
private. He opened it with some misgiving.
"It is as I expected," he exclaimed bitterly; "my father was right."
The letter was from Colonel Armytage, and was couched in almost
offensive terms.
"Sir,--You took unwarrantable advantage of the opportunities afforded
you of paying attention to Miss Armytage during our late voyage; and in
case you should misunderstand my behaviour towards you while you had
command of the `Osterley,' I feel it necessary to state that,
considering your true position in society, I consider your conduct most
reprehensible, and desire that from henceforth all communication between
you and any member of my family shall cease. My daughter is too
obedient, and has too high a sense of propriety to differ in opinion
with me on this subject.--I am, sir, your obedient servant--
"A. Armytage."