COLONEL ARMYTAGE WOUNDED--CROSSING THE BAY OF BISCAY--CHASED DURING A
GALE--THE BRIG DISMASTED--CAPTURED.
Ronald Morton's heart beat high with hope when he rode back, and was
able to announce to Mrs Armytage and Edda that he had recovered Colonel
Armytage. "Though wounded and faint from loss of blood, I trust that he
is not seriously hurt," he added.
He received an ample reward in the look of love and gratitude which Edda
gave him.
Before the arrival of the colonel, the carriage was got up, the traces
were repaired, the mules caught, and everything was in readiness to
move. Don Josef, who now came up, insisted on their returning to his
house.
"Even if the enemy were not in the neighbourhood," he observed, "it
would be useless for the commissioner to proceed further, utterly unable
as he is to attend to business."
After a time Colonel Armytage yielded an unwilling consent to the
arrangement, he had learned that Don Josef was Morton's friend, and he
was evidently doubting in his mind how he should treat Morton himself.
He had just rendered him a great service, and the very man whom he had
once favoured as the suitor of his daughter, and who had promised to
come and claim her when circumstances would allow him, he had seen in
the ranks of the enemy, and he now learned had also attempted to carry
off his daughter. These thoughts occupied his mind as the carriage
moved on in the centre of the party. Ronald had too correct notions of
generalship not to march in true military order. He sent forward an
advanced guard, and kept a rear guard at some distance to give timely
notice of the approach of an enemy, should they be pursued. He himself
was everywhere, seeing that his newly-raised band of guerillas were
attending to their duty, though he did not fail, whenever he passed, to
make inquiries at the carriage-window as to how Colonel Armytage was
bearing his journey.
It was dark when the country-house of Don Josef was reached. He
literally made his house the home of the foreigners, for he made them
occupy all the best rooms, and retired himself to a small chamber remote
from all the rest. It was one of those glorious nights which in no part
of Europe are seen to greater advantage than in the clear atmosphere of
Spain. The moon, in full lustre, shone out from a sky undimmed by a
single cloud, and every object on which its light fell stood out clear
and defined, casting the darkest of shadows behind it.
When the guerilla band had been refreshed they assembled in the patio,
or yard in front of the house, and gave vent to their satisfaction at
their victory in patriotic songs. It was great enjoyment to Morton to
find himself again by the side of Edda, and to feel that he had just
conferred so great a benefit on her father that he could scarcely refuse
his consent to their union. He little knew the unyielding nature of the
man with whom he had to deal. Both Edda and Ronald referred to the
threats they had heard uttered by Alfonse Gerardin.
"I cannot understand him," she said, "who he is, nor what he is. My
father certainly favoured his suit in a way I could not fancy he would
do that of a person of whom he knew nothing, while he treats you, whom
he does know, with evident dislike. I cannot conceal it from myself.
You know the pain it must give me. Nor can I help owning that my father
is acting a cruel and wrong part."
Ronald knew how near the enemy were, and would have been anxious for the
safety of his friends had not Don Josef assured him that he had sent out
scouts to watch their movements, and to give the earliest notice of
their approach.
The next day a surgeon arrived, who pronounced the wounds Colonel
Armytage had received to be in no way dangerous, but expressed his
opinion that he would be unfit for a long time to perform the duties
intrusted to him. Of this the colonel himself seemed to be fully aware,
and he accordingly at once wrote to beg that he might be superseded.
In the afternoon a scout arrived with the information that the French
were retreating northward. This was accounted for by the rumour of the
approach of a strong Spanish force.
Ronald would gladly have remained to watch over the safety of Edda and
her parents, and Don Josef did not fail to employ every argument he
could think of to persuade him that he would be right in so doing. He
had, however, been absent from his ship much longer than had been
intended; and though he could give a very good account of the way he had
employed his time, and he knew that his captain would be perfectly
satisfied, he felt sure that she would be employed in some work in which
he would wish to take a part. Edda had too high a sense of the duty of
an officer to attempt for a moment to detain him, though her sad looks
showed how much she felt the parting. She talked hopefully of the
future; of the happiness which might be in store for them when her
father's objections were overcome.
"They must be conquered some day," she exclaimed. "Why should he object
on the score of birth? We are cousins, though distant ones, and as for
fortune, I have never been ambitious, and shall be well content to share
what you may have, till--You know some day, Ronald, Lunnasting in all
probability will be mine. I am not greedy of it. I would gladly see it
belong to my long-lost cousin, poor aunt Hilda's son, if he could be
found; but after the lapse of so many years, that is not likely.
Indeed, it is for your sake alone, Ronald, that I should prize it."
Ronald pressed her to his heart. "Thanks, thanks, generous one," he
whispered. "We may yet obtain ample fortune to satisfy our wishes. Of
that I have little fear."
The tears came into Mrs Armytage's eyes when Ronald wished her
farewell. It appeared to her as if the only person to whom she could
look with confidence for protection and support was about to leave her,
for even should Colonel Armytage recover his health, his temper was not
likely to improve, while, should he grow worse, she would be left in a
still more helpless condition.
Ten days more passed, and a fine brig stood into the harbour. The
master came on shore, and finding out Colonel Armytage, announced
himself as Captain Carlton, of the "Helen," bound direct for London.
Nothing could be more convenient; every arrangement was soon concluded;
the colonel and his family went on board; the generous Don Josef bade
them farewell, and with a favourable breeze, a course was shaped for the
Straits of Gibraltar.
The "Helen" remained only a couple of days at Gibraltar. Colonel
Armytage refused to go on shore, or to allow his wife or daughter to go.
They were glad, therefore, once more to be at sea. The weather
continued fine, and the wind favourable, and there was every promise of
a prosperous voyage. The wind was from the south-east, and as the
"Helen" ran along the coast of Portugal the sea was perfectly smooth,
except that a slight ripple played over its surface, on which the sun
sparkled with dazzling brilliancy. An awning was spread, under which
the ladies sat, and when the rock of Lisbon rose in view and the
pine-crowned heights of Cintra, just then especially notorious, not for
its beauty, not for its orange groves, but on account of the disgraceful
treaty which had there lately been concluded, even Colonel Armytage
condescended to come on deck, and to admire the beauty of the scene.
Through their glasses the Cork convent could be seen perched on its
lofty crags, and below them to the north the mass of odd-looking
buildings known as the palace of Mafra, containing a royal residence, a
monastery, barracks, and a church. Further north, little more could be
seen than a long line of yellow sand, with pine-covered hills.
"Now, ladies, I think you have seen enough of Portugal," said Captain
Carlton. "We'll haul off the shore, if you please; for, to tell you the
truth, it's a treacherous coast, which I'm in no way fond of. From
here, right away till we come to Vigo in Spain, there is not a single
harbour into which a ship can run for shelter; I don't say that it's a
disgrace to the people--they didn't make the coast; it was so formed for
some good reason, I doubt not, but still I always like to give it a wide
berth."
The fine weather continued till the "Helen" had passed Cape Ortegal, and
was fairly in the Bay of Biscay. The wind then increased, and became
variable, and dark clouds were seen banking up in the south-western
horizon. The kind old captain became less cheerful than usual. The
brig no longer glided on smoothly and sedately as before, but began to
roll and pitch with the rising sea. The ladies came on deck, but were
unable to read and work as they had previously done, but Edda declared
that she enjoyed the change, and found amusement in looking at the
dancing seas, and in watching a shoal of porpoises which went careering
along, sporting and rolling and keeping way with the brig without
effort.
"Ah, young lady, you are looking at those fellows, are you?" said
Captain Carlton. "Just watch how they go along. Now I have heard
people on shore talk of a porpoise as a fat, heavy creature who hasn't
got any spirit in him, just like a hog, for instance, wallowing in the
mud. I should like to see the race-horse which could keep up with them.
They would beat that gallant frigate which passed us the other day, and
as to this brig you see, they swim round and round her as if she was at
anchor, and we are going a good seven knots through the water. People
fancy when they see their black tails when they dive that they are
rolling along, but the truth is, there isn't a creature darts quicker
through its native element than a porpoise."
The captain's lecture on the much-maligned fish was suddenly brought to
a close by a cry from the masthead of a sail on the larboard-quarter.
In war time merchantmen keep a sharp look-out, or ought to do so, that
they may have timely notice to enable them to avoid an enemy. On the
present occasion all Captain Carlton could do was to make more sail and
to continue the same course he had been steering. As there were
threatenings of a stiff breeze, if not of a gale, the hands were ordered
to stand by to take it in again, should it be necessary.
The stranger gained rapidly on the brig, and as she was pronounced to be
a large ship, then a man-of-war from the squareness of her yards, and at
length a frigate--
"Could she be the `Imperious?'" Edda ventured to ask.
The old captain shook his head.
"No, my dear young lady," he answered gravely; "it goes to my heart to
alarm you, but the truth must be spoken. I am very much afraid that the
stranger is an enemy."
Edda's heart sunk within her. English prisoners, she knew, whether
combatants or not, were detained in France for years, and the Emperor
had shown his intention of keeping them till he had attained the objects
he sought.
Mrs Armytage fainted when she heard the report, and the colonel came on
deck to ascertain its truth. He evidently did not like the look of
things.
"Cannot you make this craft of yours sail faster?" he asked, in an angry
tone of the master.
"It is the people who built her, sir, are to blame, not me. I am doing,
and will do, all a seaman can accomplish to escape the enemy; I have no
wish to be taken. I have a wife and family waiting my return home, and
Heaven have mercy on them! we shall be utterly ruined if the brig is
taken."
Colonel Armytage was silent; the chances of escape seemed small indeed.
Still pressed as she was with a far larger amount of canvas than the
master would have ventured to carry under ordinary circumstances, the
brig tore through the rising seas at a greater rate than had ever before
probably been got out of her.
The master stood watching the masts and spars with an anxious eye. They
bent and cracked with the greatly increased strain to which they were
exposed; the weather-shrouds and stays were tautened to the utmost. At
length the master turned round to Edda and Mrs Armytage, who, having
recovered from her first alarm, had come up on deck.
"My dear young lady, and you, ma'am, do go below, let me pray you; this
is no place for you," he said, with deep earnestness. "Any moment we
may have the masts and spars rattling down on our heads, or the enemy's
shot flying along our decks. Please Heaven, while the masts stand we'll
hold on. They can but take us in the end; but, dear ladies, do go
below. We shall act more like men if we know that you are safe."
Thus urged, most unwillingly Edda and her mother retired to the cabin.
The colonel, however, remained on deck.
"It shall never be said that where danger was present I was absent," he
remarked.
"Maybe, but you would be of much more use looking after your wife and
daughter in the cabin," muttered the honest old captain.
Edda and Mrs Armytage went into their own cabin. They knelt down.
They could not strive like men, but they could pray that the ship might
be preserved from the threatened danger, or, if it was Heaven's will
that it should overtake her, that they might have strength given them to
bear whatever it was their lot to suffer.
The breeze was freshening rapidly, the movement of the brig increased as
she plunged with a violent jerk into one sea, and then rose up the
watery ridge only to sink down again into another watery valley. Still
on she tore. The master was keeping his word. On a sudden there was a
cry; then followed a fearful crash.
"Oh, my father! he may have been killed," exclaimed Edda, as she rushed
on deck.
Both the masts had gone by the board, and the brig lay a helpless wreck
on the tossing waters. The frigate was close to them. For an instant a
wild hope rose in Edda's heart. Was she after all the "Imperious?"
The hope was soon banished. The flag of France flew out from the
stranger's peak. Edda looked round for her father, trembling with fear.
He had fallen, and lay on the deck unable to rise. She rushed towards
him, all his unkindness, his harshness and injustice forgotten. She
attempted to lift him up; but her strength was unequal to the task. He
soon somewhat recovered.
"I am not materially injured, I fancy," he said at length. "This is a
fearful accident; I was struck by a falling block, and was stunned. I
shall be myself again directly. But where is the master? What has
become of the crew?"
Edda gazed horror-struck at the spectacle which met her sight. Several
of the men lay crushed under the masts and heavy spars which had fallen
on the deck, a few who had leaped below were returning to their
assistance, but Captain Carlton was nowhere to be seen. Just then a cry
struck Edda's ears; she gazed out on the foam-covered sea. Among the
wildly leaping waves she caught sight of the old master's countenance--
it was turned towards the brig with a look of agony. He was swimming
bravely, sorely buffeted as he was by the seas. The effort was beyond
his strength. With a wild cry he threw up his arms, and the next sea
rolled over his head.
Edda would have sunk with horror had not the call of duty supported her.
"Father! oh come below! we can do nothing to help ourselves, and shall
be safe there," she exclaimed, in an imploring tone.
"No, no, girl; I must be on deck to receive our captors. See, they are
coming!"
He raised himself to his feet, and was pointing to the frigate, which,
having passed to windward of the dismasted brig, was now hove-to. A
boat was at that instant being lowered from her side.
"Then I will not leave you, father," said his daughter, clinging to the
bulwarks near him.
The boat from the French frigate approached; she came close to the brig,
but it was both difficult and dangerous for the crew to get on board.
More than once they made the attempt, and each time the boat was driven
off again by the sea; at last they shouted to the English seamen to come
and help them. The surviving crew of the brig had gone below, as is the
practice of seamen likely to be captured, to put on their best clothing
and to secure any valuables belonging to them. At last they appeared,
and with their assistance and the ropes they hove-to the boat, and the
Frenchmen succeeded in getting on board. Their officer was the first up
the side. Edda looked at him, and almost shrieked with terror when she
recognised Alfonse Gerardin.