RONALD MEETS HIS FATHER--OLD DOULL RECOGNISES ROLF MORTON--MORTON
RECOGNISES FATHER MENDEZ--ROLF MORTON'S DIPLOMACY--A FORT ATTACKED--BLUE
JACKETS ON SHORE.
A few days after the "Imperious" reached the coast, a brig of war hove
in sight. The frigate stood towards her, and when the two vessels had
hove-to, the commander of the brig came on board, and confirmed the
statement made by the marquis and the priest, that Spain had made peace
with England, and had determined to throw off the French yoke.
"Much good may our allies do us," remarked Lord Claymore who had a
profound contempt for the Spaniards. "A cowardly braggadocio set. I
would place no dependence on their support in case of need."
The commander of the brig bowed; he was not likely to dispute the matter
with his lordship.
"By-the-by, I have brought a passenger--an old shipmate of mine, whom
Mr Morton will at all events be glad to see."
"And so shall I," said Lord Claymore, glancing at the gangway, at which
a fine, stout, elderly-looking man appeared, dressed in plain clothes.
Ronald sprang aft, and grasped his hand.
"Father, I little expected to see you. Where have you come from?"
"From Malta last," answered Rolf Morton. "I went out there to look for
you. When I arrived home in the old `Lion,' and was paid off, I applied
for and obtained my discharge from the service. I found that I had made
a mistake in going to sea the last time. It did not suit me. I felt,
too, that for your sake as well as my own, it would be better for me to
live in a private capacity on shore. You are a lieutenant, and may soon
be a commander. It would stand in your way in society to have it said
that your father was a boatswain; not that you would be ashamed of me, I
am sure, but we cannot make people wiser, we must take them as they are.
Besides, I am more at liberty to attend to the subject you wrote to me
about. I am not very sanguine of success, but still it would be
satisfactory, for your sake, to discover after all that I was of good
family, and to find some relations for you."
After Rolf Morton had talked for some time with his son, Lord Claymore
sent for him. He had heard from the commander of the brig that he had
retired from the service. He shook him warmly by the hand.
"It will be pleasant for you to be together, and as the brig has to
return immediately, I shall be glad if you like to remain on board.
Your son, I doubt not, can put you up."
Rolf Morton thanked the captain for his kindness. It was the very thing
he wished. He wanted to be for some time with Ronald, and to talk to
old Doull and Eagleshay, to ascertain what they knew about his early
days.
Most of the prisoners taken in the felucca were sent to Malta, but
Captain Tacon was kept on board the frigate, as Lord Claymore considered
that he might assist in clearing up the matter in which he was so much
interested, and be made useful in other ways, from his knowledge of the
coast and of the towns and villages near it.
Rolf was naturally eager to see Doull and Eagleshay. The two old men
were sent for. Their astonishment was very great when they were told
that he was the boy they had carried off from Shetland nearly fifty
years before. He assured them that he clearly recollected the
circumstance, and that two of the men were tall, like them, and that
there was one much older and shorter. They both looked at him very
earnestly for some time. At last Doull exclaimed--
"I remember well a mark on the laddie's hand; a spike or a nail had run
through it just between the bones of the fore and second finger. It was
a curious mark to be in the hand of so small a child, and I mind well
thinking that mark will never wear out, and I shall know the boy
whenever I meet him again."
While the old man was speaking, Rolf was examining his hand. He held it
out with the back up; there, sure enough, was visible, through the
brown, hairy skin, a deep mark, evidently produced as Doull had
described.
"Father, there can be no longer any doubt about the matter," exclaimed
Ronald with more excitement than he usually exhibited.
"I am afraid that the evidence will not be considered very strong in a
court of law," observed Rolf. "However, it leaves no doubt on my mind
that these two men assisted to carry me off. But that is all! they
cannot say, more than I can, to what family I belong; and as for this
paper which they say they signed, that of course is irretrievably lost.
Ronald, I have made up my mind what I will do--I will go back to Whalsey
and take possession of my farm. I no longer fear Sir Marcus Wardhill--
he can do me no harm, and I will try to live at peace with the old man.
I will take these two men, Doull and Eagleshay, with me. Lord Claymore
will give them their discharge. They are no longer fit for duty. They
shall be well looked after, for I bear them no ill-will for the injury
they did me. All has been for the best, I doubt not: we can but do our
duty and trust in Providence."
Ronald heartily entered into his father's plans, though he felt much
more sanguine than he did as to the result. He said that he had little
doubt but that Lord Claymore would grant a superannuated discharge to
the two old men.
"All will be right," said Rolf, cheerfully. "I must, however, take a
cruise with you first, my lad. It will be time enough to think of going
home when we fall in with a ship bound that way."
Rolf had gone into the gun-room soon after his arrival on board, and did
not return on deck till the evening. When he made his appearance, the
marquis and his daughter and the priest were assembled there. All the
officers, and especially Glover, welcomed him cordially, and Lord
Claymore came up and spoke to him in the kindest way. Rolf looked
across the deck at the Spanish party, and could not help fixing his eyes
on the priest.
"I am sure it is him," he exclaimed. "I never saw a stronger likeness;
years have only dried him up a little." And without another word he
walked up to the old man, and said--
"What, Father Mendez! it is long since we met; but don't you know me?"
The priest cast a calm glance at him, totally free from astonishment, as
he answered--"Time changes all people. If it is long since we met, you
must excuse me if I do not recollect you."
"I forgot that," said Rolf, frankly. "My name is Morton--we met in
Shetland. Were you not then called Father Mendez?"
"I am called Father John," said the priest in the same calm tone as
before.
This reply would have irritated many men, but Rolf looked at him, and
said quietly--"That may be your present name, but unless my recollection
strangely deceives me, you were called Mendez."
The priest bowed and replied--"I have seen many people in the course of
my life. It is possible we have met, but you will understand that the
memory of a man, as he advances in life, is not as good as it was in his
youth."
"I have the advantage of you in that respect, certainly," persisted
Rolf, in a manner very different to his usual custom.
"Come, come, Father Mendez! we were too much together in days gone by
for you to have forgotten me any more than I have forgotten you,"
continued Morton. "I do not wish to annoy you, but I wish you to do an
act of justice. The son of your former patron and friend, Don Hernan
Escalante, was carried off from his mother's house by the crew of a
schooner which suddenly appeared before the place. He has never since
been heard of: what has become of him? I ask. His mother has friends
in this ship who will insist on knowing the truth. It will be wiser for
you to speak it at once."
The priest was more thrown off his guard by this appeal than he probably
had ever been before.
"I know nothing of Don Hernan's child," he answered quickly. "I did not
carry him off, nor was I privy to it. I could not be guilty of such a
deed; the members of my order never employ violence to bring about what
they desire. That alone ought to convince you that I am guiltless of
the charge you make against me."
Morton was not in the slightest degree more convinced than at first by
what the father said.
"Then, at all events, you do not deny that you were in Shetland, and
that I knew you as Father Mendez?" said Rolf.
The marquis and his daughter were all this time watching the speaker
with looks of astonishment.
"There would be no object in denying that such was the case," answered
the priest. "I was in Shetland rather more than twenty years ago, and I
was then known as Father Mendez. I am at present called Father John."
"I thought so," observed Rolf, bluntly. "You'll understand me, sir--I
am but a rough seaman, and all I want is fair play. You and I were
present at the marriage of that unhappy lady of Lunnasting Castle. We
are the only surviving witnesses, besides Pedro Alvarez, and where he is
to be found no one knows. What I ask you is, to help me to see her
righted, and to find her lost son. Now that England and Spain are
friends again, her son may be discovered with less difficulty than
before; when discovered, assist in enabling him to regain his father's
property in Spain, which was, if I remember rightly, at once taken
possession of by his relative, who, from the accounts received in
Shetland, was a very great rogue; the Marquis of Medea he was called. I
am not wrong, I fancy."
Father Mendez rapidly thought over the state of the case. The marquis
had certainly supported him during the misfortunes which their country
had suffered by the French invasion, but he had been anything but a
generous patron, and it occurred to him that he might make a far better
bargain with the rightful heir, if he could be found; and he believed
that Rolf Morton, notwithstanding what he said, had the clue to his
discovery, if he did not already know where to place his hand on him.
When therefore, Rolf, feeling that he might have been too abrupt and
uncourteous in the way he had addressed him, apologised for his
roughness, the priest answered blandly--
"Do not concern yourself, my friend, on that account. We are old
acquaintance. I have good reason to remember your sterling qualities,
which far outweigh all others, and I own that it would be with great
satisfaction that I found you looked upon me as a friend. I love
justice as much as you do, and most anxious I am to attain it for the
son of my old and esteemed friend, Don Hernan. Tell me how I can assist
you, and I promise you all the aid I can afford."
Rolf Morton was not so completely deceived by this speech as the priest
might have supposed. He, however, thanked him, and rejoined Ronald in
his quarter-deck walk, which they had to themselves, as the captain and
most of the officers had, gone below.
Very great was Rolf's surprise when he found that the dignified old
gentleman on the other side of the deck was the Marquis de Medea, and
still more so on hearing that the very man who had carried off the young
Hernan Escalante was in irons below.
Ronald reported to Lord Claymore the fresh discoveries that had been
made. "All will go right, Morton, in the end, depend on that," he
answered. "I am very sanguine that the young Hernan, if he is
forthcoming, will obtain his rights, and so will your father his; those
two old men were not fallen in with by you in so unlikely a way, except
for some object. `Never despair!' has always been my motto, adopt it,
there is no safer one."
Lord Claymore would very gladly have landed the disagreeable marquis and
the priest on the first part of the coast of Spain they made; but as the
French still held numerous ports and towns to the west, they would have
found it impossible to travel towards Cadiz, to which they expressed
their wishes to proceed, and as there was a lady of the party, he could
not, without great want of courtesy, have put them on shore. For the
sake indeed of Don Josef's daughter, Donna Julia, the captain would very
gladly have borne with his haughty and morose manners. The young lady,
indeed, contrived to enchant every one on board; and those who knew the
character of her father, and entertained hopes of dispossessing him of
his property, could not help feeling compassion for one so young and
lovely, who would, should they succeed, be in reality the principal
sufferer.
The frigate was not to be idle; numberless were the dashing exploits
performed by her gallant crew. In most of them Ronald took an active
part, and several times his father insisted on accompanying him, as he
observed, just to make him feel young again. Numerous vessels were also
captured--one was a French privateer; some Spaniards taken in a prize
were on board her. From these men Lord Claymore learned that within a
day's sail there was a strong and important castle, garrisoned by French
troops. This castle commanded a pass on the road by which the chief
communication was kept open between the borders of France and the French
army on the Ebro. A Spanish force, it was said, had already assembled,
and commenced the siege of the place, but with little success. The
frigate made a long tack off the coast; when she again stood in the fort
was made out, situated on a commanding elevation, overlooking the road
which wound along the shore. The frigate had her guns run out, and the
crew stood at their quarters, ready for action. The officers, with
their glasses, were examining the coast. The sun shone brightly; the
water was blue, still more blue was the sky, shedding a brilliancy over
the sand, the rocks, the hill-sides clothed with verdure, showing here
and there the darker tints of orange or olive groves, with lighter
shades where vineyards clothed the ground. Had it not been for that
ominous-looking little fort, with its extended outworks, the landscape
would have exhibited a picture of perfect rest and peace.
Nearer and nearer approached the frigate, gliding majestically over the
smooth sea. Suddenly, emerging from a ravine, appeared a long line
moving slowly on. Then dots which might have been mistaken for minute
insects separated from it, and here and there puffs of smoke were seen,
which were replied to by the fort with other puffs, and the faint
thunder of cannon was heard on board the frigate.
"Those must be Spaniards attacking the fort," exclaimed the captain,
mechanically whistling for a breeze to urge on the ship with the
rapidity that might satisfy his impatience.
In a short time the whole line was enveloped in smoke, and every gun on
the south side of the fortifications commenced firing, forming so dense
a cloud that the operations of the assailants could no longer be
distinguished.
"The Spaniards will have completed the work, and gained all the glory,
before we can get there to help them," cried Glover. "I wish we had
more wind!"
"So do the Spaniards, but depend on it they will wait for us. There
will be nothing desperate done till we get up to their assistance,"
observed Hardman.
The marines were now ordered to prepare for landing. The captain had
made up his mind to storm the place under cover of the frigate's guns.
Morton volunteered to lead the party. The captain was doubtful about
letting him go. Rolf declared that if his son went, he would go also as
a volunteer. At last the wished-for breeze came, and the frigate
rapidly approached the scene of action.
The breeze lifted the canopy of smoke which hung over it, and the
combatants could now be seen, the Spaniards pushing on in great force
and clambering over an out-work, from which the French, still fighting
bravely, were retreating.
"Ay, those Spaniards have many an act of outrage and cruelty to avenge,"
observed the captain. "Their blood is up now; I never saw them fight so
bravely."
The spectacle greatly increased the eagerness of all onboard the frigate
to take part in the work. The crews of the boats, and those who were to
go on the expedition, stood in readiness, with pistols in their belts,
and cutlasses at their sides; the marines drawn up, stiff and prim,
ready to step into the boats, offering a strong contrast to the
blue-jackets, with their rolling, somewhat swaggering movements, while
several not told off to go were stealing round in the hopes of being
able to slip unnoticed into the boats.
The Spaniards, apparently encouraged by the approach of the British
ship, and knowing that those they had some reason to suspect were
witnesses of their conduct, charged with greater vigour.
At length the wished-for moment arrived. The "Imperious" teached in as
close as the depth of water would allow. A spring had been got ready on
her cable. The moment the anchor was dropped she opened her broadside
on the fort, while the boats collecting on the other, the men sprang
into them, and giving way, they pulled with lusty strokes towards the
shore. The forts opened fire on them, but the boats were small objects,
and though the shots ploughed up the water ahead and astern of them, no
one was hit. As they reached the beach some way to the southward of the
castle, the marines and bluejackets sprang on shore, and instantly
formed; then "Onward!" was the word. The Spaniards welcomed them with
vivas. There was little time for Morton to exchange greetings with the
Spanish chief. A supply of scaling ladders had been prepared and
brought on shore, and Lord Claymore had taken good care that they should
be long enough. The seamen carried them, and rushed on, following
Ronald and his father. Rolf kept up with the activity of a younger man.
On they went; they soon distanced the Spaniards. The outworks had been
secured. Through them they dashed. The scaling ladders were planted
against the walls; the French made some attempt to throw them down, but
some of the seamen held them fast at the foot while the others climbed
up. Nothing could stop their impetuosity.
The Spaniards were now swarming up likewise. The enemy fought with the
courage of despair. They well knew that, should they fall into the
hands of the Spaniards, their doom would be sealed. A number of
Spaniards had made good their footing, when the French charged them with
such fury that many were cut down, or hurled back over the wall. Two or
three were defending themselves bravely. One of the number fell.
Morton, seeing what was taking place, and that they would all be killed,
calling some of his men, made a dash at the enemy. Rolf was by his
side, and lifting up the man who had been wounded, bore him out of the
fight. More marines and seamen clambered up.
The Frenchmen gave way and fled to the citadel. Some were cut down
while bravely defending the gate. The rest got in; the portal was
closed, and then a white flag was hung out, as a token that the governor
was ready to surrender on terms. His sole proposal was that he and his
men might be conveyed on board the British ship-of-war, to save them
from the certainty of being cut to pieces by the Spaniards, should they
have them in their power.
The Spaniard whom Rolf had rescued was full of gratitude. He had been
knocked down, but his wound was not dangerous. He was a militia-man; a
brave fellow, as he had proved himself by the ardour with which he had
scaled the walls. He put his house and everything he possessed at the
service of those who had preserved his life. He lived, he said, some
way to the south. He should now return home, having had fighting
enough, and a wound to show as a proof of his patriotism.
Ronald took the offers at what he believed them worth, and parted from
him on the most friendly terms. The prisoners were conveyed on board
the frigate; and as they embarked, the scowling looks the Spaniards cast
on them showed what would have been their fate had they remained on
shore.
Part only of the work to be accomplished was performed. As the French
would soon again occupy the fort if it was left without a garrison, and
as the Spaniards could not be depended on, it was necessary to blow it
up. A supply of powder was found in it; some more was landed from the
ship. Excavations were made under the walls; the train was laid. One
gig only remained. Bob Doull undertook to fire the train. The rest of
the crew were in their seats, with oars in hand, ready to pull off.
Ronald stood up in the stern-sheets to give the word. Bob applied the
match, and stooped down as if to blow it, and was in consequence sent
reeling backward, while the fire, like a snake, went hissing along the
ground. Ronald shouted to him. He picked himself up, and rushed down
to the boat with his hair singed and his face blackened like a negro's.
"Shove off, my lads! Give way!" cried Ronald.
Not a moment was to be lost. As it was, they could scarcely hope to get
beyond the influence of the explosion. There was a hollow, rumbling
sound, and then, in clouds of smoke and flame and dust, up flew the
whole of the fortress into the air. The next moment down rushed huge
masses of masonry; it seemed indeed as if the solid rock itself had been
rent, and filled up the whole of the road. Some loud splashes astern
showed that the boat had but narrowly escaped destruction.
"The French will find it difficult to pass this way again for some time
to come," observed Morton to the midshipman who accompanied him.
"Yes, sir," observed the youngster, who was somewhat of a philosopher.
"It is wonderful how easy it is to knock a thing to pieces. It must
have taken some years to have put all those stones together."