MORLEY ASHTON:
A Story of the Sea.
BY
JAMES GRANT,
AUTHOR OF "THE ROMANCE OF WAR," "FAIRER THAN A FAIRY," ETC.
In Three Volumes.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET, W.C.
1876.
[All rights reserved.]
CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS,
CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
MARIQUITA ESCUDERO
CHAPTER II.
THE CREW OF THE "HERMIONE" DISCONTENTED
CHAPTER III.
ROSE AND DR. HERIOT
CHAPTER IV.
MAN OVERBOARD
CHAPTER V.
THE LIVID FACE
CHAPTER VI.
WHAT THE DOCTOR OVERHEARD IN THE FORECASTLE BUNKS
CHAPTER VII.
MEASURES FOR DEFENCE CONCERTED
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SAIL TO WINDWARD
CHAPTER IX.
THE STORM
CHAPTER X.
THE FOUR CASTAWAYS
CHAPTER XI.
CAPTAIN HAWKSHAW MAKES A DISCOVERY TO LEEWARD
CHAPTER XII.
DR. HERIOT'S PATIENTS
CHAPTER XIII.
CAPTAIN HAWKSHAW's TROUBLES INCREASE
CHAPTER XIV.
HAWKSHAW TURNS NURSE
CHAPTER XV.
A BITER BITTEN
CHAPTER XVI.
DREAD
CHAPTER XVII.
UNMASKED
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE EXPULSION
CHAPTER XIX.
THE MEETING
CHAPTER XX.
THE CORPSE-LICHT
CHAPTER XXI.
OUT OF SCYLLA AND INTO CHARYBDIS
CHAPTER XXII.
FOUR BELLS IN THE DOG-WATCH
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE CRISIS AT LAST
CHAPTER XXIV.
HOW THE SHIP BROACHED TO
CHAPTER XXV.
THE CABIN ATTACKED
MORLEY ASHTON.
CHAPTER I.
MARIQUITA ESCUDERO.
After the breathless calm of the past day, the heat of the cabin was
intense. The lamp was trimmed and lit by the steward, but the
skylight was still kept open.
"Awfully hot, Morley, is it not?" said Tom Bartelot, as he threw off
his jacket.
"Yes; and the heat makes one so thirsty, too!"
"I can't give you iced champagne, as in the gardens at Rio; but the
steward has bitter beer, beaujolais, and potash water, with grog for
you, Morrison, which I know you prefer; and you, too, Noah, my old
Triton. And now let us to work, and overhaul the old man's papers."
Morrison, who had been scanning over the manuscript, helped himself
to a glass of grog mechanically, without taking his eyes from the
writing. Noah Gawthrop, who had been specially invited below, in
virtue of the part he had borne in the past day's episode, received a
jorum of stiff grog from the steward, and seated himself near the
bulkhead, uncomfortably, on the extreme edge of a sea-chest, in
preference to the well-cushioned locker, which he evidently
considered too fine for his tarry trousers.
Morley and Bartelot were each furnished with a glass of beaujolais
and potash water. The stars were visible through the open skylight,
paling away into the blue ether overhead, when Morrison began to
read, translating the recluse's Spanish into tolerable English, as he
made himself master of the subject; the sole interruptions, as he
proceeded, being an occasional interjection from Noah, such as "Dash
my buttons!" "Smite my timbers!" varied by "Darn my eyes! the
ragamuffin! the regular-built old Bluebeard!" followed by a hard slap
of his hand upon his own thigh; though much of what he heard proved a
sore puzzle to him, especially the religious invocations, the
outbursts of remorse, and bitter self-reproaches, which we omit in
the rehearsal of his story.
The manuscript proceeded thus:
"I pray the reader hereof, if he be a good Catholic, to say a novena,
or nine days' prayer, for the repose of my sinful soul; and I beg of
the first Christian man who shall give my remains interment to place
a cross at the end of my grave.
"Let whoever beholds these poor remains profit by the sad spectacle
they exhibit, even as the recluse, Brother Pedro, has sought to
profit by the prayers, penance, and mortification of twenty years
spent in this solitude, while striving to atone for the errors of
forty spent in the world as Don Pedro Zuares Miguel de Barradas.
"I was a man of fortune in New Spain; my forefathers were of the
purest blood--the boasted blue blood of those who dwelt by the Ebro,
without taint of Goth, of Moor, or Jew--and my more immediate
predecessors, men who came with Hernan Cortez, of Medellin, and
Francis Pizarro, of Troquillo, to conquer the new world which
Columbus had given to Castile and Leon.
"My direct ancestor, Don Miguel de Barradas, came from San Pedro de
Arlanza, in the district of Burgos. A near kinsman of Hernan Cortez,
he was one of the first who settled on the table-land of Anahuac,
founding one of those powerful families which flourish there, and who
also possess all the sea-coast, from La Vera Cruz to San Luis de
Potosi.
"In power and right of action, we were free and unfettered, as the
Spanish nobility at home. No agrarian law could there force us to
sell our vast estates, if we neglected to cultivate them; and our
farmers we could harass, oppress, cajole, or expel at our pleasure.
"Proud of my descent from one of those who conquered Tlascala and
Tenochtitlan in 1521, no man was more vain of his old Castilian
pedigree than I; yet there came a time when I joined the patriots,
and fought for the separation of Peru from the mother country, and,
with my own blood, sought to cement the foundation of the free United
States of South America.
"Prior to my entering upon that career of usefulness, my objects in
life were very different.
"I was possessed of vast wealth; I had been well educated and highly
accomplished by my parents, at whose desire I had travelled over all
Europe, and had visited its capitals, to the improvement of my taste,
though but little to the advantage of my morals.
"I was possessed of a person that was considered handsome. I deemed
myself a model and mirror of honour, and had a spirit ever high and
haughty, but at times crafty and ferocious. My character was full of
inconsistencies; thus, wherever I went, I became involved in quarrels
on frivolous pretexts and points of honour--quarrels, which
invariably ended in duels, and in these I was generally the victor,
whether with sword or with pistol, for I was skilful in the use of
both.
"Within this shadow was a darker shade!
"No man's wife or daughter--even were he my best and dearest
friend--could be safe from my artful, insidious, and too often
successful advances; for to see any woman, possessed of even moderate
attractions, was to love her at once.
"Success in each instance gave new courage and address, and led to
success in others; thus my whole time was spent in weaving plans and
intrigues, and the chief aim of my existence was to feel myself the
conqueror. Thus to flame succeeded flame, so rapid were my fancies,
so insatiable my desires, that I rejoiced in the idea of making three
or four assignations with as many different beauties in one day.
"Opposition in some, the tears, the reproaches, and the despair of
others, added but piquancy to this pursuit of the innocent and
unwary, while my hand with the small sword was so skilful and steady,
my aim with the pistol so deadly and true, that relations and rivals
sought to punish me in vain, though thrice I escaped miraculously
their attempts at deliberate assassination.
"Of all whom I deceived none do I mourn more in this time of
repentance and bitterness, than Mariquita Escudero, whose image and
memory fill me yet--even at the distance of many years--with
inexpressible sorrow.
"She was the only daughter of Miguel Escudero, a worthy old farmer of
mine, near Orizaba--that mighty volcano, whose summit is 1,300 feet
higher than the Peak of Teneriffe, and which serves as a landmark to
all mariners bound for La Vera Cruz.
"Though tainted, as we deemed it, with the Mexican blood of her
mother, who was an octoroon of a native tribe, Mariquita inherited
from her father good old Castilian blood, and was a girl far
exceeding all whom I had met or known in loveliness and goodness, in
virtue and in purity.
"She had heard of my evil reputation, and warned by common rumour--it
may be by her parents, or inspired by native modesty--she always drew
her mantilla close, and shunned or avoided me, when I visited Orizaba.
"Piqued by her coldness and inflamed by her beauty, which was of a
very remarkable kind, I relinquished, or forgot for the time, every
other amour, to engage in this new one, proceeding to work warily,
and with all the subtlety of the fiend I was then.
"Though I frequently visited the _granja_ (farm) of old Miguel
Escudero, I ceased to notice, save by a casual bow, the presence of
Mariquita; but strove assiduously to gain the friendship of her
brother, Juan, a handsome and high-spirited young man, whom, as he
was a deadly shot and good swordsman, I thought it would be as well
to remove from the vicinity of my operations.
"I might easily have had him taken off, by distributing a few dollars
among the bandidos of the Barranca Secca; but, though wicked enough,
I was not sufficiently a villain for that, and so preferred to
procure for him a commission as an _alferez_ (ensign) in the guards
of the castle of San Juan de Ulloa, an honour which, being so
unusual, when conferred on the son of a humble _grangero_, or farmer,
filled the soul of Miguel with gratitude, and Juan with pride and joy.
"Not content with this, I appointed Escudero overseer of all my
estates, with an income of about five hundred pistoles per annum; so
my cold little beauty, the Senora Mariquita, had now a horse and
mounted groom when she went abroad, instead of a mule, as before, and
a barefooted negro runner.
"These presents--this unwonted patronage--passed well enough as
rewards to an ancient and faithful adherent of our house, for old
Miguel Escudero had been an especial confidant of my father, and was
descended from one of the twenty men-at-arms whom my ancestor, Don
Miguel, had brought from San Pedro de Arlanza in Old Castile. He
regarded me with a friendship, a love, that was almost paternal, and
now pressed me to visit him at the handsome residence which my favour
and bounty had conferred upon him; so I went to spend three months
under the same roof with Mariquita, on the slopes of the vast Pic
d'Orizaba, to hunt the wild cattle, the elks, the buffaloes, and
cabri, and the grisly black bears, in the ever green forests and
lovely savannahs that spread away from thence towards the Rio de
Carraderas; and, nightly, it was my joy to lay the spoils of the
chase at the feet of Mariquita, in compliment to her as the mistress
of her father's house, for such she was--luckily, for the furtherance
of my project, her watchful mother having been recently removed by
death.
"I now saw more of her than I could ever have done by periodical
visits, and my passion grew greater by our intimacy, for the girl was
a wondrously lovely brunette, though her skin was exceedingly fair.
The form of her hands and feet, the contour of her head, and the soft
luxuriant masses of her ripply black hair, were all perfect; and her
eyes, large, dark, clear, and liquid, were beautiful, and ever
varying in expression.
"I was too artful, too well trained in the ways of vice, to seem more
than simply pleased with the society of Mariquita. I was
scrupulously attentive to her at table and elsewhere. If she
mounted, my hand and knee were at her service; but when dismounting,
she always preferred the attendance of her father, or her old negro
groom, as if determined that no hand of mine should ever touch her
slender waist.
"We occasionally accompanied each other on the guitar. Songs of love
were long, long avoided, but they came at last. I remember the first
we ventured on--'Love's First Kiss,' an old song of Burgos, beginning:
"'A aquel caballero madre.'
And then came a time, too, when I saw that Mariquita ceased to avoid
me--a time when her cheek flushed palpably, and when her lovely eyes
dilated and sparkled at my approach with emotions of pleasure there
were no concealing.
"In me she beheld her father's patron and benefactor, her brother's
friend; so gratitude soon led the way to love.
"I beheld the growth of this secret influence with exultation, yet
never spoke of love. Inspired by my master, the devil, I was too
wary yet to mar my game until she loved me irretrievably and deeply.
My efforts, my passion, were about to be rewarded at last!
"For good or for evil, to what is a man most indebted for success in
life? To genius, birth, education, or perseverance? To none of
these, but simply to success itself.
"Alas! she was too young, too tender, and too artless--too full of
keen Spanish and generous Indian impulses, to withstand me; and after
a time I saw that she burned with a passion equal to my own, which I
still pretended to suppress within me, and to veil under an outward
aspect of indifference and respect.
"'The first symptom of true love in a young man is timidity; in a
girl it is boldness,' says a writer. 'This will surprise, and yet
nothing is more simple: the two sexes have a tendency to approach,
and each assumes the qualities of the other.'
"This strange analysis of the human heart was fully realised in the
case of Mariquita.
"One day we were riding at the foot of the vast Cordillera, through
those odoriferous groves, the leaves of which are used for perfuming
the chocolate. We had contrived to miss our black groom, who had
dismounted in a part of the wood, to examine a shoe of his horse; so,
as the atmosphere of noon was intensely hot and breathless, we sought
a shady and sequestered spot, where, under the cool, humid, and
umbrageous forest leaves, the smilax or sarsaparilla roots, the
liquidambar, the choacun root, and the balsam of tolu were growing in
luxuriance, and where the wild cotton tree, and the broad-leaved
tobacco plant, the yellow gourd, and the purple grape, all formed a
jungle together.
"Languid and panting with the heat of the day, the length of our
ride, and, inspired by the pleasure she now felt in my society,
Mariquita never looked so lovely; and now, when praying that she
would alight, strange to say, I spoke timidly and with a
wildly-beating heart; but, to my surprise, she consented, and held
out her hand with a delightful smile.
"As I lifted her from the saddle, she threw back her long low veil,
and the heavy masses of her perfumed hair fell upon my cheek.
"She leant heavily forward in my arms, and, instead of placing her on
the ground, I pressed her tenderly to my breast, with my lips
trembling on her forehead. Then I murmured in her ear:
"'Mariquita, _mi querida_--Marguerita, my idol--I love you--love you
dearly! Will you pardon me; will you permit it?'
"She did not reply, but her head sank upon my shoulder, for the
crisis had come! Her lovely face was close to mine, and I felt her
breath upon my cheek. The colour had left hers, for those emotions
which cause some women to blush make others grow pale; but her
half-closed eyes sparkled with passion and joy under their long black
lashes, and her rosy lips were parted by a divine smile.
"I felt that I had triumphed; that Mariquita, the once proud, cold,
and reserved Mariquita, loved me, for that emotion which had made me
at first seem timid now made her actually bold, and her sweet lips
sought mine, it may be but too readily, in the first glow of her
girlish ardour.
"She gave me one long and passionate kiss, and then, without
assistance, she sprang from my arms to her saddle, saying, with
mingled smiles and tears:
"'We have both been foolish--very foolish, Senor Don Pedro, but let
us begone.'
"'Mariquita, consider the heat--your fatigue!' I urged.
"'We are some miles from the _granja_, and have first the road to
find,' she replied hurriedly.
"With her horse's reins and her whip, she had resumed something of
her former self, but the memory of my kisses yet burned upon her brow
and lips. I endeavoured, in vain, to lead the conversation back to
the sudden impulse which the simple act of dismounting had given to
both our hearts.
"I begged of her to moderate the pace of her horse, as there was
plenty of time for us to reach home; but she would not listen to me,
and seemed to blush with anger now at the memory of what had passed
between us; yet little cared I for that, felt assured that we had
passed the Rubicon, that this beautiful girl loved me, and that the
time I had spent with old Miguel Escudero, in rambling among his
plantations, where the negroes hoed the sugar, planted tobacco, and
gathered the cotton tufts, had not been spent in vain.
"Mariquita did not avoid me, so for several days after this I never
missed an opportunity, especially when old Senor Escudero was not
present, of pressing my suit, and giving her assurances of my
unalterable love! Unalterable! Oh, _mal hay as tu_, Pedro de
Barradas, into how many charming ears had those same words been
poured, and in the same tender accents, too!
"But Mariquita, who had become more mistress of herself, always heard
me with composure, and with a bearing unlike that she had exhibited
in the wood; but I could see that the simplest remark, or most casual
tone of my voice, made her heart vibrate with pleasure, and her
colour deepen.
"One evening we were standing together at an open window, which was
shaded by a vine-covered verandah, and faced the usually flaming
summit of the volcano of Orizaba. It was wonderfully still on that
occasion; a column of thin smoke only ascended from it to the very
zenith. The evening was lovely, and the sun's farewell rays were
gilding the mighty summit of the cone; all was calm and quiet, save
in our hearts, which beat tumultuously. I drew closer to Mariquita,
and as she stood before me, I passed my arms round her, kissed the
back of her delicate neck tenderly, and whispered:
"'How long shall I speak to you of love, Mariquita?'
"'As long as you please, Senor Don Pedro,' she replied, with a tender
smile, as she half turned round her head.
"'Call me Pedro, my beloved one, without the ceremonious don--and
senor, too, oh, fie!'
"'_Bueno--Pedro mi querida._'
"'Sweeter still!' I exclaimed, in a low voice.
"'Well?'
"'Well, dearest Mariquita; how long shall we speak of love?'
"'As long as you please.'
"'Ah! feel how my heart beats. I ask how long in vain?'
"'Long enough, senor,' said she, with a pretty pout.
"'_Senor!_'
"'Yes, senor, unless--unless----'
She paused.
"'What?'
"'You speak of marriage, too,' she replied, suddenly unclasping my
hands, which were tenderly folded round her slender waist.
"'Do you love me?'
"'Do I love you?' she repeated, reproachfully, turning her full,
clear, and glorious eyes to mine, while throwing back her veil and
the masses of her silky hair together; 'you know that _I do love
you_, Pedro, fondly, deeply, passionately, for you have won that
which never belonged, and never shall belong, to another--my heart.'
"'Beloved Mariquita!' I exclaimed, and pressed her to my breast in a
long and mutual embrace, 'and you will be mine--mine?'
"'At the foot of the altar, Pedro--at the foot of the altar alone,'
she whispered, with a heart that swelled with love, and with dark
eyes steeped in languor.
"But vain are human resolves, even when made by a heart so pure and
guileless as that of Mariquita, when struggling with a passion so
deep and consuming; for with these very words on her lips she was
yielding; we were alone and undisturbed, and ere the sun's last rays
had faded from the cone of Orizaba, Mariquita had lost her honour!
* * * * *
"The hapless Mariquita! She loved me more than ever now. She clung
to me with all the strength of love, of sacrifice, and of despair.
"For days after this, on her knees, she besought me to marry her. I
would raise her, kiss and console her, and flatter, too--how weary
now the task!--flatter and pacify her, making countless promises and
professions, for I still loved her in my own selfish fashion; but I
shrunk from the idea of marriage with the daughter of one of my own
grangeros--one whose ancestors had been hewers of wood and drawers of
water to mine--a girl, moreover, who had the taint of native blood in
her veins!
"I, Pedro de Barradas, Knight of Santiago de Compostella, and Lord of
Anahuac, whom the proud daughters of the first men, and of the
noblest houses in New Spain, had failed to lure within the meshes of
matrimony, was not likely to mate with the daughter of Miguel
Escudero, however much I might love her, and however much she might
please my somewhat fastidious eye.
"I heard her many tender and pathetic entreaties--and once, too, her
wild threats of self-destruction, poniard in hand--that I would save
her from impending shame; but I was pitiless as the ocelot--the
tiger-cat that lurked in the woods of Orizaba--all the more pitiless
that I knew she fondly--yes, madly--loved me.
"Weary of the endless task of seeking to console one who would not
and could not be consoled, I quitted Orizaba for some months, as we
were planning the revolt against the mother country, a movement which
was to secure to me the captaincy of the great castle of San Juan, de
Ulloa, the citadel of La Vera Cruz, which mounts nearly 200 pieces of
cannon, and is the key of the whole province.
"During my absence and in the fulness of time, Mariquita had a son,
born in secrecy, amid tears, shame, and sorrow. She baptised it by
the name of Pedro, and sent him to a lonely puebla in the mountains
that overlook the Barranca Secca, to be nursed by one of my people.
This birth, all unknown alike to Miguel Escudero, whom I had
despatched on a political mission towards the shores of the Pacific,
and to his son, Juan, who was now a lieutenant of infantry at the
castle of San Juan de Ulloa.
"My passion for Mariquita still existed; her love for me was greater
than ever now, and she lived but for me, and in the hope that in
pity, if not for love, I would espouse her still, and these hopes I
was always wicked enough to fan; 'so man wrongs, and time avenges.'
"Completely in my power, surrounded by my toils, the victim of my
wiles, still loving me dearly and desperately, and still hoping for
the ultimate fulfilment of my thousand protestations, the poor girl
continued to meet me from time to time in a deserted sugar-mill on
the mountains of Orizaba, a secret intercourse that ended fatally for
her and for all, for another son, whom we named Zuares, was born, and
at the same time the whole affair came to the knowledge of Miguel
Escudero, who, though but a humble grangero, had all the pride of
birth, and more than the ideas of spotless honour, honesty, and
female purity, possessed by any grandee of old Castile.
"The poor old man's horror was beyond all description.
"To find that his daughter's honour had been lost, his hospitality so
infamously violated, his home disgraced, his prospects ruined, and by
me--ME, whom he had so loved and so respected, as his friend and
benefactor, was a mortal stab too deep to survive, and within an hour
after the revelation came upon him in all its stunning details, poor
Miguel Escudero had ceased to exist.
"He did not die by his own hand, he was too good and too religious a
man for such a terrible act; but sinking on the floor of his chamber,
he never moved again. He died of autopsy--paralysis of the heart!
"I was not present at this scene of horror, being, fortunately for
myself, in command of the great castle of San Juan de Ulloa.
"On the day of Corpus Christi, after having attended mass, I was
walking on that portion of the ramparts which faces the flats of
Gallega, accompanied by some of the officers of my staff, when the
young lieutenant, Juan Escudero, approached to inform me, in a voice
broken with grief, of his father's sudden death, and to request leave
of absence to attend his obsequies.
"My heart was struck with remorse, and grew sick with shame. I
placed my purse in his hand; I gave him my best horse, and bade him
begone to Orizaba with good speed; but I trembled like a craven in my
soul for the hour of his return.
"A few days passed, and the young lieutenant came back.
"I was walking alone on the same ramparts when I saw him steadily
approaching me. He was clad in his uniform, and his silver
epaulettes glittered in the sun. He had a band of crape on his right
arm, and another on the hilt of his sword--a soldier's simple
mourning for a lost parent, and, alas! a lost honour.
"He came straight up to me; his handsome face, so like the face of
Mariquita, was deadly pale; but the glare of wild hate shone in his
eyes, and his nether lip quivered spasmodically.
"'Senor Don Pedro de Barradas,' said he, saluting me, ceremoniously,
'I have the honour to confess the many services you have rendered my
family in the days when you were true to yourself and to us. For all
these I beg to thank you. But I have also to confess the many deep
wrongs you have done us, and I here brand you, before God and man, as
a villain and a coward, whom I have vowed to kill like a dog, here on
the ramparts of San Juan de Ulloa!'
"My heart sank, and my hand trembled.
"'Senor Teniente--Senor Escudero,' I began, in a rash and vague
attempt to explain or to extenuate; but the brother of Mariquita was
mad with ungovernable fury, and he rushed upon me, sword in hand.
"I knew that he would kill me without mercy, and that there was
nothing left for me but to defend my life to the utmost, and to do
this all my skill was requisite.
"I was the best swordsman in La Vera Cruz; but he was twenty years my
junior, young, active, and filled with just rage and indignation.
"Compelled to stand on my own defence, my sole object was to ward off
his cuts, to parry his thrusts, and to keep him at bay till the
castle guard came to separate us. I sought to disarm, and if driven
to sore extremity to wound him only; but while he was making a
desperate lunge at me, my sword entered his heart. I felt its hot
blood spout upon the blade, and pour through the hilt upon my hand,
as I flung my weapon down in grief and dismay.
"Juan threw up his hands, and uttered a wild cry. It was
'Mariquita,' as he fell dead on his face, at my feet.
"Long, long did a horror of these events oppress me. I buried him in
the church of the Augustine Friars, and had one hundred masses sung
for the repose of his soul--oh, who will say one for me!--I would
have made some effort to requite the living victim of my wickedness;
but now retribution came upon me.
"Mariquita was still living at her father's old _granja_, on the
borders of the Barranca Secca, in shame and seclusion, nursing her
children, Pedro and Zuares, who now bore the dishonoured name of
Barradas, and each of whom had, strange to say, a little red cross,
like that of Santiago, on his left shoulder, where their mother's
hand engraved it, lest the children should be lost.
"About a month after Juan's death, I was betrayed by some of his
friends into the hands of the troops of his Majesty Ferdinand VII.,
and was placed by them on board a vessel for conveyance to Spain,
where an ignominious death as a traitor awaited me.
"When passing near this isle, a heavy gale came on, and I fell
overboard. In such a sea, to save me was impossible; but a sailor
heard my shriek of despair, and cast over to me a hencoop.
"God, in his goodness, enabled me to reach it, and after drifting on
the dark ocean for more than an hour, I was cast ashore, and here
have I remained ever since, leading a life of piety and austerity, of
penance and of prayer, in the humble and earnest hope that this
imitation of the holy men of old may atone for the errors I committed
in the world as Don Pedro Zuares Miguel de Barradas.
"Rueguen a Dios por el."
Such was the substance of this strange confession, which we have
written out in a more readable and coherent form than Morrison found
it, and which throws a light on the parentage and origin of the two
dark seamen on board the _Hermione_; and as for the fate of the
hapless Mariquita, the reader has already learned it from Captain
Hawkshaw's unpleasant reminiscence of the Barranca Secca.
The evening of the next day saw the _Princess_ steering for the
north-western extremity of the island of Tristan d'Acunha. At nine
o' clock, Bartelot ordered a light to be hoisted at the end of the
foretopmast studdingsail boom, and a gun to be fired, as a signal for
a shore boat, which promptly came off from this remarkable place.
As he wanted fresh water, the captain continued to stand off and on
till dawn next day, when Morley, who had spent the morning watch in
successful fishing, had the gratification of seeing the sun rise on
the isle of Don Tristan d'Acunha.
Situated far amid the lonely waves of the Southern Atlantic, at the
distance of 1,500 miles from any continent, this lofty island has a
peak of 5,000 feet in height above the level of its beach. At dawn
it seemed like a cone of flame, shaded off by purple tints, and
towering amid a rose-coloured sea, whose depth is so vast that it far
exceeds even the height of Tristan's loftiest peak.
Two islands are near it: one is named the Inaccessible; the other,
the island of the Nightingale; but they are mere masses of wild
storm-beaten rock, against which the ocean rolls its masses of foam,
and above which, in the amber-tinted sky, a cloud of sea-hens,
petrels, and albatrosses wheel and flutter.
In the little town which held a British garrison when our imperial
captive pined in St. Helena, there is a mixed population of English
and Portuguese mulattoes, though the isle is described in a recent
gazetteer as being as desolate as when the Cavalier Tristan d'Acunha
traversed the southern sea with his high-pooped caravel, and gave the
place his name, in the first years of the sixteenth century.
Morley, Gawthrop, and three of the crew went ashore in the jolly-boat
to procure some fresh water and vegetables. Morrison followed in the
quarter-boat; both returned in about an hour, and after what they had
brought off was put on board, they were sent ahead with a warp to tow
the ship off the land, towards which a dangerous current had been
drifting her.
A fine breeze soon after sprang up; the _Princess_ bore away upon her
course, and ere midnight came down upon the sea, she had bade a last
farewell to the lofty isle of Tristan d'Acunha.
When next we see her on the ocean, we shall have something to narrate
very different from the hitherto peaceful and prosperous voyages of
Bartelot and his shipmates.