"Mother, how beautiful our country is! And I think it is so happy
always to be in sight of the sea. How dull those lands must be you tell
us of which are so large that many people have to live out of hearing
of the waves! I could not bear to live there; it must seem so narrow
and close to be shut in on the land with nothing beyond. But here we
can never get out of sight of the sea. May and I always find, wherever
we roam among the hills, we never lose the sea. When we wander far
back from the shore, the beautiful blue waters seem to follow us as if
they loved us; and in the inmost recesses of the mountains we always
see beneath us some glimpse of bright water in the creeks, which run
up among the hills, or the rivers which come down to meet them. The
sea seems to love every corner of our country, mother, and penetrate
everywhere."
A cold shudder passed over the mother's frame, and tears gathered in
her eyes.
"The sea is indeed everywhere, my children," she murmured, and then
with a burst of irresistible emotion she clasped them to her heart, and
added bitterly, "Happy the country which that sea cannot approach!"
May and Hope wondered greatly at her words; but there was something
in her manner which awed them into silence. For some time after that,
they often speculated together as to what her words could mean, a vague
terror seemed to murmur in the ripple of the waves. But gradually the
impression wore off in the happy forgetfulness of childhood, and their
old schemes were resumed with the same zest as before.
One evening, however, as they were busied with their treasures in the
cave, the tide surprised them, and when they set out to return home,
they found the rocky point which separated them from their cottage
surrounded with deep water. The sides of the cliff in the little cove
where their cave lay were sheer precipices of smooth rock, too steep to
climb, so that the children had to wait some hours before they could
creep round the point. Eagerly they watched the declining sun and the
retreating tide, and when the waves were only ankle-deep they bounded
through them, and in a few minutes were at the cottage door.
It was not yet dark, and the children were dancing into the cottage
full of spirits at their adventure, when they were startled at the
appearance of their mother. She was leaning, stony and motionless, with
fixed eyes and clasped hands, against the doorpost, and for a moment
the sight of her darlings did not seem to rouse her. Then springing
up with a wild cry, she strained them to her heart, covered them with
kisses, laughed a wild laugh, broken with convulsive sobs, and at last
fell fainting on the floor.
The children knelt beside her, and gradually she revived, and fell into
a sleep. But every now and then she started as if with some terrible
dream, and murmured in her sleep, "The ship—the Black Ship; not now,
not yet; take me, not them; or take us all—take us all!"
The terrified children could not sleep, and all the next day they clung
close to their mother, and scarcely spoke a word. In the evening,
however, she rallied, and tried to speak cheerfully and account for her
alarm.
"You were late, darlings; and I knew you were by the sea—the terrible
sea."
But the children could not be comforted. They felt the weight of some
vague apprehension; they could not be tempted to leave their mother;
they crept noiselessly about, watching her movements. Until at last one
night they whispered together, and resolved to take courage and ask
their mother what made her dread the sea; and then they consulted long
as to the best way of introducing the forbidden subject.
The next evening, as they sat together by the fireside, Hope began, and
forgetting all the speeches they had prepared, fixed his large eyes on
his mother's, and said abruptly, "Mother, what is there terrible in the
sea?"
She paused a moment, her face grew deadly pale, and her lips trembled.
"Children, why should you wish to know? You will learn too soon without
my telling you."
"O mother, tell us," said May. "We can bear anything from you. Do not
let any one else tell us."
A sudden thought seemed to flash across her, and she said, "Children,
you are right."
Then folding one arm around Hope as he stood by her, and taking May on
her knee, she said, "It is not the sea I dread; it is the Black Ship.
That is the terrible secret; and it is, indeed, better you should learn
it from my lips than learn it by losing me, and no one be left to tell
you how.
"My children," she continued, making a great effort to speak calmly,
"this is the one sorrow of our country. From time to time a Black Ship,
without sails or oars, glides silently to our shores, and anchors
there. A dark, veiled Figure lands from it, and seizes any one of our
people whom it chooses, without violence, without a sound, but with
irresistible power, and quietly leads the victim away to the Ship,
which immediately glides away again from our coasts as swiftly and
noiselessly as it came; but no one ever sees those who are thus borne
away any more."
"Whence does the Ship come, mother?" asked Hope, after a long silence.
"And whither does it go?"
"No one knows, my child. That is the terrible thing about it. There is
no sound nor voice. The agonised cries of those who are thus bereaved
avail not to bring one word of reply from those lips, or to raise one
fold of that dark veil. If we only knew, we could bear it."
"Have you ever seen it, mother?" asked Hope, determined bravely to
plunge to the bottom of the terrible mystery, while May could only
cling round her mother's neck and cry.
"I have seen it twice," she replied, speaking low and rapidly. "We
did not always live here. Your father was rich and a man of rank, and
loving us most dearly, he resolved to do all in his power to keep
the terrible Form away. For this end, he built that castle you have
often seen above the white tower. It is far above the sea; the rocks
are perpendicular; it is built of solid stone; the doors were of oak,
studded with iron; the windows barred with iron. No one was ever to be
permitted to cross the moat without being strictly scrutinised. The
gates were always to be closed.
"When it was finished, he made a feast. And after it, when the guests
had left, and every bolt was drawn, we stood at the window of the room
where you slept, and looked down triumphantly on the sea. A little
sister of yours was sleeping in my arms. In the bay at our feet was
moored the Black Ship. Our eyes seemed fascinated to it, and we could
not speak. We saw the Veiled Figure; descend the side, and slowly scale
the precipice beneath us, as if it had been a road made for it to
tread. It walked over the waters of the castle moat, which did not seem
to wet its feet. It stood on the balcony outside our window, and we
could not stir. It passed through the iron bars. It laid its hand on my
sleeping babe.
"Your father's strong arm was around us both, but before we could
utter a cry, the darling had glided like a shadow from our embrace.
The bright face of our baby was hidden from us under the folds of
that impenetrable veil. We watched the terrible Form noiselessly
descend the steep, re-enter the ship, and not until the Black Ship was
already gliding swiftly out of sight could we overcome the terrible
fascination. Then my cries of agony awoke the household, boats were
manned in pursuit, but in vain, in vain—we felt it was in vain. We
never saw the babe again."
She spoke with the languor of a sorrow which had been overwhelmed by
greater sorrows still.
"But our father?" asked Hope.
"He left the castle the next day," she answered; "we never returned
to it. He said the strong walls only mocked our helplessness, and
since then the castle has been empty. Birds build their nests in our
chambers, wild beasts make their lair in our gardens, the iron bars
rust on the open doors; and if the Veiled Figure enters again, it will
find no prey."
"But where did you go?"
"We came here. Your father said he would dare the foe, and, since no
fortification could keep it out, meet it on its own ground. So he built
this cottage close to the sea, and here we have lived ever since. I was
content to remain here, because I thought we might avoid seeing any
one, and keep the terrible secret from you.
"And here," she continued with the calmness of despair, "one morning we
saw the Black Ship moored, and your father went to meet it. I wept and
clung to him to keep him back, but he said, 'It shall speak to me.'
"The Dark Form came up, a black shadow across the sunny beach. Your
father encountered it boldly, and said, 'Where is my child?'
"There was no sound in reply. For a moment there seemed to be a
struggle. I rushed towards them, but the terrible touch was on your
father's hand. There seemed no violence, no chain was on his arm—only
that paralysing touch. He went from me silent and helpless as the babe.
"'Whither, whither?' I cried. 'Only tell me where!'
"He looked back once, but he spoke to me no more. I rushed madly into
the sea, but the ship was gone in a minute, and your voices, your baby
voices, called me back, and I came."
"Is there no help, mother?" said Hope, at last. "Has no one ever tried?
If I were but a man! Oh, surely some help could be found?"
"So thousands have thought, tried, and asked in vain. Fleets have
scoured the seas, but none ever came on the Black Ship's track. Have
you seen that line of surge far out on the sea?"
"The reef, mother? Yes; we have often wondered what it was."
"It is the great sea-wall which our people built ages since. The whole
nation combined once to encircle the island with a gigantic sea-wall
which no ship might pass. On the day of its completion, there was a
great national festival on the sea-shore. But at noon-day, as they
danced and feasted, one who was watching saw a black speck on the
horizon.
"The festivities were suspended, and every one gathered on the beach
to look. It grew larger and darker—it came to the sea-wall—without
a moment's pause it glided through, and the multitude could gaze no
longer. They scattered in all directions to their homes; and before
morning, from hundreds of families, one was gone—princes, nobles,
peasants—one sweeping yet terribly discriminating desolation. But in
the sea-wall not the smallest breach could be found. Since then it has
never been repaired, and the waves have worn it down to a broken reef,
over which our boats pass freely."
Hope was silenced, and the little family sat up together that night.
They did not dare to separate, even to their beds, yet before long, the
children were asleep.
Sleep revived the brother and sister. And by the evening, Hope's ardent
heart had found another point to rest on.
"Mother," he said, "if we could only find out whence the Black Ship
comes, we might be comforted. Perhaps it comes from a happy place. Can
no one even guess?"
"There are some who profess to know something of it," she replied; "but
your father never believed them."
"Who are they?" asked Hope.
"The amulet-makers. There are a band of men in the White Town, and one
of them in many of the villages, who profess to know something of the
country from which the Black Ship comes, and who sends it. But they
talk very mysteriously, in learned words; and I do not understand them.
Your father said it was all a deception; because some of them profess
to make amulets or charms which keep the Veiled Form away; and your
little sister had one round her neck when she was taken from us. You
have each one, but I cannot trust it; and I never could find out that
the amulet-makers had anything but guesses as to where the ship came
from; and your father said we could guess as well as they.
"There is one thing," she added, with a faint smile, "which gives me
more comfort than anything they ever said. When our baby was taken
from my arms—when she felt that terrible touch—she did not seem to be
at all afraid. She looked up in my face, and then at the Veiled Form,
and stretched out her baby arms from me to it, and smiled. At first,
I hated to think of that. It seemed as if some cruel charm was on her
to win even her heart from me; but often in the night, in my dreams,
that smile has come back to me, like a promise; and I have awaked,
comforted—I hardly know why."
"Perhaps they are in a happy place, mother," said little May.
And Hope said—"Mother, I am going to question the amulet-makers in the
White Town."
And his mother suffered him to go.
In two days, Hope came back. But his step was spiritless and slow, and
his face very sad.
"Mother," he said, "I think my father was right. I am afraid no one
knows anything about the country from which the Black Ship comes. At
first the amulet-makers promised to tell me a great deal. Some of them
told me they believed it was a great king, an enemy of our race, who
sent the ship; but that if we kept certain rules, and put on a certain
dress they would sell us, or give them certain treasures to throw into
the sea when the Ship appeared, they would watch for us, and make
the powers beyond the sea favourable to us. But when I came to the
question—how they knew this to be true, or if they had ever had any
message from beyond the sea, or seen any one who came thence, they grew
silent, and sometimes angry, and told me I was a presumptuous child.
"There was one old man, however, who was kind to me; and he came and
spoke to me alone, and said, 'My child, be happy to-day—to be good is
to be happy. What is beyond to-day, or beyond the sea, no one knows, or
ever can know. Go back to your mother, and live as before.' So I came,"
concluded Hope. "But it can never, never be with us again as before we
knew."
From that time the boy seemed to cease to be a child, or to take
interest in any childish schemes. He was gentle and tender as his
father could have been to his mother and to May, and seemed to take on
himself to watch over and protect them. He never left them out of sight.
Until, one day, as they came, in their ramble in search of shell-fish,
on their old cave, and looked once more at their little stores, so
joyously hoarded there, May suddenly exclaimed, "What if they should
know on the other side of the mountains!"
The thought flashed on Hope like a breath of new life; and from that
day his old schemes were resumed, but with an intensity and a purpose
which could not be quenched. He would scale the mountains, to see
if any tidings from beyond the sea had reached the land across the
mountains!
His mother's consent was gained; and in a few days, spent in eager
preparations, Hope was to start.
But before those days were ended, one evening, a white-haired old man
knocked at the cottage door. He was nearly exhausted with travel, his
clothes were torn, and his feet bleeding.
They led him to the fire, bathed his feet, and set food before him. But
before he would touch anything, the old man said—
"I have tidings for you—glad tidings."
"Do you come from across the mountains?" exclaimed Hope, starting to
his feet.
The old man bowed in assent.
"I come from across the mountains, and I bring you glad tidings from
beyond the sea."
"Glad tidings!" they all exclaimed.
"Glad tidings, if you will obey them," he replied;—"if not, the saddest
you ever heard. It is not an enemy who sends the Black Ship, but a
friend."
Not a question, scarcely a breath interrupted him; and he continued, in
brief, broken sentences—
"It is our King. Our island belongs to Him. He gave it us. But, long
ago, our people rebelled against Him. They were seduced by a wicked
prince, His deadly enemy, and, alas! ours. They sent the King a
defiance; they defaced His statues, which were a type of all beauty;
they broke His laws, which are the unfolding of all goodness. He sent
ambassadors to reclaim them; He, who could have crushed the revolt,
and destroyed our nation with one of His armies in a day, descended
from His dignity, and stooped to entreat our deluded people to return
to their allegiance. But they treated his condescension as weakness.
They defied His ambassadors, and maltreated them and drove them from
the island. He had warned them against the usurper, and told them the
consequences of revolting; and too surely they have been fulfilled.
"The Black Ship is the punishment inflicted by our offended Monarch;
but those who return to His allegiance need not dread it."
"Some, then, have submitted to the King?" asked Hope.
"Every ambassador He sent has persuaded some to recognise the King."
"Why not all?" asked Hope. "If the King is good and is our King, and
will receive us, why not all return?"
"The usurper seduces them still," replied the old man. "Many hate the
King's good laws; many take pride in what they call their independence;
most will not listen, or will not believe. They mock the King's
messengers, and declare that they are impostors, that their messages
are a delusion, and some even persist in declaring that there is no
King, and no country beyond the sea."
"But the Black Ship is not a delusion!" said Hope. "It must come from
some land. What proof have these ambassadors given? Have they ever been
in the land beyond the sea?"
"They gave many proofs, but I bring you better news than this. A few
years since, the King's Son came Himself. Many of us have seen and
spoken with Him. He stayed many days. He spoke words of such power, and
in tones of such tenderness as none who heard can ever forget. We could
trace in His features the lineaments of the statues we had defaced.
Some of the worst rebels among us were melted to repentance, and fell
at His feet, and besought His pardon. I was one.
"He gave us not only His pardon, but His friendship. But His enemies
prevailed. Especially the amulet-makers organised a conspiracy against
Him; they feared for their trade, and secretly prepared to drive Him
from the island. He had come alone, for He came not to compel but to
win. And He came for another purpose, which, until He was gone, we
could not comprehend. The conspirators triumphed. One day they came in
force and seized Him. Alas, a base panic seized us who loved Him, and
we fled.
"They bound Him with thongs, they treated Him with the most barbarous
cruelty and the basest indignity and drove Him to the sea. We thought a
fleet and an army would have appeared to avenge His insulted majesty,
and proclaim him King with power, or bear Him in pomp away. But to our
surprise and dismay, nothing came for Him but the Black Ship, and the
Dark Form bore Him from us, as if He had been a rebel like one of us.
"He had told us something of the probability of this before it
happened, but we could not comprehend what He meant. Never were days of
such sorrow as those which passed over us after His being taken from
us. His enemies were in full triumph; they mocked our Prince's claims,
they insulted us, they threatened us, but all they could say or do was
nothing in comparison with the anguish in our hearts.
"For what could we think? He we had loved and trusted was gone, borne
off in triumph by the very foe He came to deliver us from. We hid
ourselves in caves and lonely beaches by the sea, and recalled to each
other His precious words, and gazed out over the sea with a vague
yearning, which was scarcely hope, and yet kept us lingering on the
shore.
"On the third morning, in the gray light of early dawn, one of us
saw Him on the shore—one who had owed Him everything, and loved Him
most devotedly. She called us to come. One by one we gathered round
Him. Some of us could scarcely believe our senses for joy. But it was
Himself; the solid certainty of that unutterable joy grew stronger.
And then He told us wonders, how He suffered all this for us—had borne
this indignity and captivity in obedience to His Father's will, to set
us free—had gone in the Black Ship itself to the heart of the enemy's
country, and alone trodden those terrible regions of lawless wickedness
to which he seeks to drag his deluded victims, and alone vanquished him
there.
"He stayed with us some days, and talked with us familiarly, as of
old; but how glorious His commonest words were—how overpowering
His forgiving looks—how inspiring His firm and tender tones, I can
never tell. He could not remain with us then. He said we must be His
messengers, and win back His rebels to allegiance; we must learn to be
brave, to speak and suffer for Him, and to act as men; and He promised
to come again one day with fleets and armies, and all the pomp of His
Father's kingdom.
"But, meantime, He said the Black Ship should never more be a terror to
any of us who loved Him; for He himself would come in it each time. He
would be veiled, so that none could see Him but the one He came for;
but surely as the Black Ship came, instead of the Dark Form, He would
come Himself for every one of us, and bear us home to His Father's
house to abide with Him, and with Him hereafter to return."
There was a breathless silence, broken only by the mother's sobs.