"Are you aware also that her mother was of the race of the Guzmans of
Castille, and that in her is concentrated the purest Spanish, with the
oldest blood of Portugal?"
"Well, as to that," replied Hughes, who could not help smiling, though
feeling very anxious, "I can count pedigree with any man, only instead
of the Guzmans of Castille, I must refer you back to the rude hills of
the Cymri and the chieftains, my ancestors, who wore their golden
torques, when the Druids raised their altars in Britain, and before even
the Romans knew the land."
The speaker's voice showed pride and dignity fully equal to that of the
noble, though there breathed through the words a spirit of mockery and
cynicism.
Dom Maxara bowed courteously. "I can hardly perceive the analogy
between your skin-clad ancestors and the chivalrous barons of my land,"
he replied coldly.
"I regret to hear it, Senhor," said the soldier, with some show of
humour, "and it yet remains for me to learn how as to birth and old
lineage I am so immeasurably your inferior," he continued, sharply.
"The boon I ask of you is great, so great that a lifetime of devotion
will not pay my debt, but in other matters," and here the delicacy of
the subject striking him, he paused. "In a word, Senhor Maxara, my
fortune is small, very small, and resumes itself thus:--A captain's
commission, an income of five hundred a year besides, and an old name,
and old house in Wales. In worldly means I am not rich, but in love for
Dona Isabel I will not yield even to a father."
"And she has told you that your love is returned, has she not?" asked
the noble.
"She has led me to hope it may, and that hope is the loadstar of my
existence; and one with which I will never part."
"Listen, Senhor Hughes. My father, Dom Antonio Mendez de Maxara," said
the noble, speaking slowly and deliberately, "was a rich man. Added to
a proud name, he enjoyed large estates. When I married into the noble
house of the Guzmans of Castille, few had a brighter prospect than
myself. My father mixed himself up with the political parties of the
land. He was unfortunate, and, like many another, plunged more deeply
into intrigue. Not content with that, he must needs join the Guzmans in
their schemes against the Queen of Spain, thus not only rendering
himself obnoxious to the Portuguese Government, but hated and feared by
the cruel and treacherous Narvaez.
"Years passed on, Isabel was born, and her mother paid for the young
life with her own."
The noble paused, and seemed buried in sad reflections as the cigarette
smoke curled upwards.
"Run that warp forward, clap it on to the capstan," shouted the clear
voice of the captain. "Heave with a will, my lads. The old barky knows
her way out into blue water. Run the boats up to the davits, Mr Lowe."
The brig's head, now the anchor was clear of the ground, slowly fell off
under the strain put upon the warp, and she moved through the water in
the direction of the entrance.
"Keep all fast with the boats," called Captain Weber. "We may have to
tow the hussy out. There's not a breath of wind, Mr Lowe. Look handy
with that maintop-gallant sail, my lads. We shall need it before the
moon rises. Send a hand to the wheel."
All was bustle on the brig's decks, while aloft the busy topmen were
bending new sails, splicing the rigging, and completing their work,
which had been hastily but effectually done. The creak of the oars in
their rowlocks was heard as a boat pulled out for the entrance, to see
that all was clear to seaward. Still the old noble seemed immersed in
thought. At last he spoke again.
"The moment came," he said, "when Narvaez triumphed. A traitor was
found who had been for many years my father's intimate friend, had
shared his plans and his purse. Bribed with gold and promises, the man
placed a long political correspondence in the hands of the minister. It
became plain that my father had dreamed of freedom both of religion and
of government. This might have been passed over, but he had gone
further, and desired a federation of the two countries, Spain and
Portugal, under a popular Republic. This was his crime, and the two
parties then fighting for power became united against the common danger.
"Forced to fly, my father had nearly reached the French frontier, when
he was struck down by the hands of hired assassins. A desultory and
useless rising took place at different but isolated points. In these I
had taken part, burning to revenge a father's death. I managed, with
great difficulty, to escape; but my property and estates were lost, and
I but retained sufficient to enable me to live, and to place Isabel with
a relative, the Superior of the Convent of the Augustines, in Paris.
Passing into the service of France, I won a commission in the Foreign
Legion, serving in Algeria, in Italy, and Austria. I rose to the
command of my regiment, when, some months since, I was enabled to return
to my country, was received with favour, a small portion of our
forfeited estates restored, and the mission I am now accomplishing given
me.
"Ah! Isabel, my child!" continued the noble, as at that moment she
appeared on deck, and he bent to kiss her high forehead; "I have been
burthening our friend with the tale of our family misfortunes."
Dressed in a light muslin with a flowing skirt, her dark hair heavily
braided, with the high comb, and mantilla, Dona Isabel would have looked
beautiful enough; but with the left arm bound up and worn in a sling
made with a crimson Andalusian scarf, and the air of fatigue and languor
which late events had caused still hanging over her, Hughes thought he
had never seen her look so lovely.
Nestling in between her father and her lover, Isabel passed her right
hand through the arm of the old noble, who looked down fondly into her
face.
The brig's stern was now no longer pointed towards the land, for she was
moving slowly along parallel with it. The click of the capstan, as the
sailors stamped round with a measured step, was heard, and the vessel
was slowly drawing up with the entrance to the Bay. The parrots were
screaming on shore and the gulls overhead, the last rays of the evening
sun tinging the tops of the fan-like leaves of the ravinala trees, just
as the "Halcyon" arrived abreast of the "Onglake" river, which here
discharged itself into the sea.
"It is a beautiful scene," said Isabel, "and who could believe that it
is the same quiet Bay which a few hours since rang with the demoniac
yells of those horrible pirates!"
"If we have any wind it will come towards sunset, the captain says, and
we shall shape our course for the Cape," said Dom Maxara. "What leave
of absence remains to you, Senhor Enrico!"
The name seemed singular to Captain Hughes; it was the first time he had
heard it used; but it was, after all, decidedly prettier than plain
matter-of-fact Henry.
"About eighteen months," replied he, "which could easily be prolonged."
"And have you any plans for the future, Enrico mio?" asked Isabel,
raising her large dark eyes to his face.
If "Enrico" seemed pleasant from the mouth of the stately old noble,
what was that first "Enrico mio" from those ruby lips?
The noise of the boats as they were manned, the dropping of the oars
into the water, the unshipping of the capstan bars, and the preparations
for casting off the rope used to tow the vessel's head round, now told
that the "Halcyon" had reached the entrance of the Bay.
"Set the fore-topmast-staysail, let fall the foresail, get the
fore-topsail on her, Mr Lowe. Cast off the warp; give way, my lads,
give way cheerily in the boats," shouted the captain, as he stood on the
quarter-deck. "Starboard--hard--let her feel the helm. Steady! so."
The brig's head slowly payed off, as she felt the strain of the boats'
towing, and her jib-boom pointed right for the entrance of the Bay. The
horizon had been reported clear, nothing being in sight, and sail after
sail opened its wide expanse, while the long breathings of the ocean
began to be felt, and the idle canvas flapped to and fro in the calm.
"Have you any plans for the future, Enrico mio?" reiterated Isabel.
Hughes had been gazing steadily down into the deep blue water, totally
regardless of all that was passing around him.
"I was thinking," he said, "of Wyzinski's tales, of the sad remembrances
this place has for him; and contrasting them with the startling events,
but bright memories, it will have for me. The name of Saint Augustine's
Bay will ever be dear to me."