On board everything had been done to promote the safety of its occupants
that could be effected. The lashings of the timbers had been carefully
overhauled and strengthened under Captain Weber's own superintendence,
while the boxes and cases of provisions, which had been lowered on to
the raft before pushing off from the sinking ship, had been arranged so
as to form a kind of walled cabin over which a heavy sail had been
spread as its roof. A light studding sail formed the door, which could
be brailed up or let down at the desire of the occupant. The weather
continued moderate, and though a green wave would occasionally break on
board, no great discomfort had been as yet experienced.
It had been a sad moment when the sweeps were unshipped, and when the
line of coast became fainter and fainter, until at last its outline was
no more distinguishable, and nothing was to be seen but the wide expanse
of ocean, on which the frail raft rose and fell. The gulls and Mother
Carey's chickens were their sole companions, and the sun rose without a
cloud, daily to pour its blaze of light over the calm waters of the
Indian Ocean, and then to sink to rest, setting, as it seemed, in the
waste of waters. Soon the stars would peep forth, and the gentle breeze
which had prevailed during the day, die away into calm; no sound
disturbing the stillness, except the occasional spouting of a whale near
the raft, the whish of the breaking wave, and the creak of the spars as
they worked together.
At first the men bore this well, for there were no watches to keep, no
sails to tend, and provisions of all kinds were plentiful. Calm weather
was to be expected after the late series of heavy gales, and they were
sure to be picked up. They must be rapidly nearing the shores of
Madagascar, too, and the men amused themselves by spinning long yarns
about the savage inhabitants of the island, between the intervals of
smoking, eating, and drinking. The dawning of daylight was ever an
anxious moment for all, and every eye eagerly scanned the limited
horizon in quest of the coming ship. The light grew gradually stronger;
the wing of a gull was taken for a sail. A feeling of delight, of hope,
spread through the hearts of all. The delusion was exposed as the sun
tipped the tops of the waves with its light, and, do what they would,
despondency took the place of hope. At first none would acknowledge
this feeling, each trying to cheer up the other; but the men became
gradually restless and uneasy, the tale and the laugh were less
frequent; the few orders which were given them were obeyed, it is true,
but slowly and listlessly, and it became evident that the confinement to
so limited a space was telling, and that the crew were becoming
demoralised.
The morning of the third day since the loss of the "Halcyon" had dawned,
and the raft still rose and fell on the gentle swell of the ocean. The
studding sail was brailed up, and Isabel was seated at the open
entrance. Captain Hughes was lying on the spars at her feet, while
close by Weber and his mate were endeavouring to prick off their
position on a chart, which was spread on a barrel. The men were just
finishing their twelve o'clock dinner, and the raft was slowly driving
through the water before a gentle westerly breeze.
On a box between the two at the entrance of the improvised cabin stood a
chess-board. The pieces were ranged in position, but the interest of
the game seemed languishing.
"You might have checkmated me, last move, Enrico," said Isabel. "Either
you did not care to do so, or you are thinking of something else."
In fact Hughes had been gazing up into the speaker's face, and had
forgotten all about the game.
"A game at chess on a raft in the Indian Ocean is another thing to one
in a lady's drawing-room," remarked the missionary, who had been looking
on at the play, with a smile on his face; "and yet," he continued, "it
has been much the same kind of game as usually takes place between a
lady and gentleman thinking only of each other."
"Oh, how I should like to have my foot once more on the carpet of that
same drawing-room!" exclaimed Isabel. "This eternal hoping against hope
is dreary work."
"We have known worse moments together, Isabel," remarked Hughes, who had
raised himself from his elbow to a sitting position, and was gazing
intently over the waves.
"I dare say I am impatient, Enrico; but everything seems to go wrong.
First of all the storm, and then, when safely moored in the land-locked
bay, where everything seemed so quiet, the frightful affair with the
Malays. I think I can hear their terrible yells yet." And the girl
covered her eyes with her hands.
Hughes had risen, and was leaning moodily against a pile of boxes, and
still gazing over the sea.
"No sooner," continued Isabel, "had we made all right than the pirate
schooner was upon us, and, as if that was not sufficient, the storm
which caused my dear father's death followed."
"To me, Isabel, there seems still one bright point in all the black past
you are looking into," replied Hughes, as his gaze left the distant
horizon, to fix itself on Isabel's fair face.
Raising her lustrous black eyes, and returning the look with one of deep
confiding tenderness, Isabel placed her hand on his arm, as she
continued--
"But just as we were close to land, when I could see the undulations of
the coast line, and mark the clumps of trees on the shore, to be driven
away,--and now this fearfully monotonous life, ever rising and falling
on the waves. One of these days we shall see Madagascar, and just as we
are about to land, be blown to sea again."
"Sail ho!" shouted Hughes, in a voice which startled every one on board.
"You are right!" exclaimed Captain Weber, starting to his feet. "See
there away to the westward." And he laid his brown hand on the mate's
shoulder, pointing in the direction named; and, sure enough, no bigger
than a man's hand, like the wing of some far-away sea-gull, a small
patch of white appeared on the horizon.
A hearty cheer burst from the missionary's lips, and it was taken up by
all on board. The men, however, did not evince much satisfaction. They
were sorry, it may be, after all to change a life of idleness for one of
toil; or they knew, perhaps, that the passing sail might not come near.
However this might be, certain it is, that after gazing on the white
speck which told of coming help, one after another sat down in a dogged,
sullen manner, as though they cared little about the matter.
Grouped round the entrance to the little cabin, Captain Weber, his mate,
and passengers began the midday meal, and it was a more cheerful one
than usual. Provisions were plentiful, and Mr Lowe had reported the
strange sail to be nearing them rapidly.
"She is working to the southward on a wind," remarked he; "and if she
makes a long leg will run us slap aboard."
"See the union jack set over our mainsail, Mr Lowe," returned the
captain, "it will not help us along much, but will make us more easily
seen. They don't keep a very bright look-out on board yonder craft,
I'll be bound."
"Ay, ay, sir. Come, my lads, make sail on the frigate," said the mate,
laughing, "we'll soon run yonder fellow aboard."
The flag was hoisted, the whole party watching anxiously. The sun shone
brightly on the white canvas of a full-rigged ship, which was coming
bows on towards them. At the door of the rude cabin Isabel sat, her
hand clasped in that of her lover-husband, her head resting on his
shoulder, and her eyes intently fixed on the ship.
"How beautiful she looks as she heels over to the breeze," she murmured.
"Surely, they see us now."
"The ship is more than ten knots away," replied Captain Weber, "and if
even the look-out saw us, and most probably there is none, we should
only be taken for a gull or albatross."
"Could we not make them hear us?" asked Isabel.
"Impossible," replied the master; "but we will try. Now my lads, a good
hearty cheer," he shouted. "Hip! hip! hurrah! One cheer more; fancy
yourselves at the Jolly Tar in Portsmouth Harbour. Hooray! Why, I have
heard you make twice the row when I wanted you to knock off shouting,"
he said, as the cheer died away. In point of fact, the crew seemed too
idle even to exert themselves for their own safety.
"See," said Isabel, "see, they hear us!" and she clasped her hands
together as she spoke with delight.
Captain Weber and his mate knew better. There were, indeed, indications
of a bustle on board the ship. The sun was shining brightly full on her
white canvas, and even the dark mass of her hull could be made out, as
she came careering through the waves, with all sail set to her royals on
a taut bowline. Then her sails shivered, the black bows came sweeping
up to the wind, the yards were braced round, as the ship, now on the
opposite tack, every moment lessened the chance of those on board the
doomed raft.
"One effort more, my lads; stay a moment, they'll be coiling down the
sheets and bowlines just now. Are you ready? `Ship, ahoy! ahoy!
aho-o-o-y!'" roared the captain with all the force of his powerful
lungs, producing a shout, with which the voices of all on board joined,
even the feeble treble of Isabel being heard.
It was useless; the ship neither heard nor saw them, but kept calmly and
steadily on her course, leaving them to their fate. Towards sunset her
royals only could be seen on the horizon, and when the stars shone
forth, the raft was once more rising and falling in helpless loneliness
on the waves of the sleeping ocean, slowly dragging on her way.
Isabel had retired, and cried herself to sleep. Hughes had thrown
himself, as was his wont, before the opening of the cabin, and was quite
motionless. Near him lay several recumbent forms wrapped in cloaks or
tarpaulins, while the men, grouped together, were, or seemed to be,
sleeping.
He had bitterly felt the cruel disappointment of the morning, and,
though it was nearly midnight, was in reality wide awake. A low
confused murmur reached him, and he listened attentively.
"I tell you he has all the gold aboard, Phillips; enough to make men of
the likes of we," were the words which came to his ears.
"For the matter of that, Gough, he'll die hard, the old beggar, and some
of us will lose the number of our mess."
"All the more gold for them as remains," muttered the man Gough.
"Well, if so be as we are to go in for the yellow boys, why not now?
They're all caulking soundly."
"No, yonder ship may be within hail to-morrow morning, and a fine mess
we should be in," answered the ruffian.
Hughes at once became aware that mischief was brewing, and determined to
discover what it was. Slowly he dragged himself onwards, inch by inch,
until he lay in a position where he could hear well. The two were
sitting up, wrapped in their greatcoats, and spoke low and cautiously.
The pale light of day was just breaking over the waves as hours later
Hughes regained his position, gently and cautiously. Tired with
watching he fell fast asleep, and it was broad daylight when he was
aroused by Captain Weber shaking him by the arm.
"Rouse and bitt, my lad," said the old seaman, laughing. "The bare
planks seem to suit your humour. We want your place for breakfast."
There was no lack of water round about them, and while he made his hasty
toilet the soldier determined on the course to be taken. An attempt to
possess themselves of the gold would certainly be made that night, and,
as Phillips had said, Captain Weber was not the man to give it up
quietly, "I have a few words for you, Captain Weber, before breakfast,"
he said, as that officer passed near him.
"Heave ahead, my hearty, I'm not pressed for time," was the reply.
"Have you noticed how sullen the men seemed yesterday, how apathetic
they were when the ship went about?" asked Hughes.
"It is the natural consequence of this state of relaxed discipline and
idleness," replied the master.
"One more query. Have you not gold in these cases, in some of them at
least. Are we not nearing Madagascar?"
Captain Weber turned sharply round, looking the speaker full in the
face, and paused a moment as if in astonishment, ere he replied.
"Yes, I have gold dust in some of them, and if yonder ship had only
stood on for an hour longer, the dust might have served me to fit out
another vessel, and give me another chance; but why do you ask?"
"I lay awake nearly all last night. You know I have always thrown
myself before the entrance to the little cabin."
The seaman nodded his head.
"Well, about four o'clock this morning, I heard two of the men talking.
Yonder red-bearded, blear-eyed fellow who is whittling a stick as he
whistles, was the principal speaker."
"Ah, Gough," replied the master, "he is the worst character on board; it
was Gough tried to persuade the men to break into the spirit-room, when
tired of the work at the pumps. I can believe anything of him."
"Well, he held out a dazzling picture of life in Madagascar. He talked
of the warm welcome given by the Queen of the island to the English, he
painted a life of luxury and ease, instead of one of toil and privation,
saying we might sight the island any moment."
"The scoundrel!" muttered the old master between his clenched teeth, "I
see it all now."
"He told of the gold on the raft, and how with it they might be kings
and nobles in the land. How the wind was dead fair, and they had but to
stretch forth their hands to help themselves."
"Not while I live--not while I live, the mutinous scoundrel," growled
the seaman.
"You are not intended to live," replied the soldier. "We were all to
die, unprepared, and therefore incapable of resistance. Adams and
Simmonds were to share our fate, the raft to be seized, and the loss of
the brig to cover that of the crew and passengers."
"And Dona Isabel?" inquired the captain.
"Was to die to secure her silence," replied Hughes, shuddering.
"A pleasant lot of fellows; and when is this infernal plot to be carried
out?"
"Last night was fixed for its execution, but a fear for the return of
the ship we saw yesterday prevented it, and now it is determined that it
be carried out to-night."
"We may see a sail again to-day, and if we do, we are saved; but again,
we may not," muttered the captain, "and we must be prepared for the
worst."
"We had better, at all events, show no suspicion, but go to our
breakfast as usual."
"I will consult with Lowe; do you tell your old comrade," said the
captain, moodily, as the two moved away.
The simple breakfast was laid out before the cabin-door just as usual.
The steward acted as cook, and Isabel superintended her breakfast table
on the raft, with all the natural grace she would have shown, had she
been in her father's house in sunny Portugal.
Her face was sorrowful, as she advanced to meet Hughes, for yesterday
had indeed brought her a cruel disappointment. So sure had she felt of
rescue, that the blow had been very severe.
"Did I not tell you, Enrico, all is against us? Oh, I dreamed that the
ship we saw yesterday had come back, and so vivid was the dream, that I
lifted the sail expecting to see it," she remarked.
The breakfast finished, Captain Weber and his mate rose to consult the
chart.
"Wyzinski, help us to clear away, and we will get out the chess-board.
I want to speak to you. You can lean over us as we play."
"What on earth is wrong now?" exclaimed Isabel, fixing her large black
eyes on her husband's face.
"Hush, Isabel!" returned Hughes, throwing himself down on the planks, "a
great peril hangs over us. If there was a chance of rescue, I would
have said nothing about it, but the day wears on, and the horizon is
clear."
Isabel looked up. "All seems calm, there is no sign of storm about,"
she remarked.
"Peril!" repeated Wyzinski, as he stooped over Hughes and moved a knight
on the board. "Check to your king and castle--both. It and I are old
friends."
And Hughes told his tale, while the game proceeded in a most irregular
manner.
Captain Weber sauntered up, and looked knowingly at the board, though he
did not understand anything about it.
"Have you spoken to Adams and to Morris?" asked the missionary.
"Yes, and they are prepared--and what is better, yonder in the cabin is
the arm-chest securely locked. It was a lucky thing I placed it there.
The villains are unarmed."
"They have their knives--there are eleven of them, and we count how
many?" quietly asked the missionary.
"Seven," answered the old sailor; "but Adams is still very weak. Will
you open yonder chest, pretty one," he continued, for he ever addressed
Isabel by that endearing epithet; "will you open yonder chest, and push
the revolvers within my reach with your foot."
Wyzinski took her place at the chess-board, as Isabel rose to do as she
was desired, and the captain having placed a couple of pairs of
revolvers in the pockets of his monkey jacket, moved forward among the
men, talking and chatting as if nothing was wrong.
It was Sunday; the breeze died away towards evening, and the missionary
read the service of the day in the makeshift cabin. He possessed a
fine, clear voice, and, aware of their great danger, his hearers found
the beautiful litany of the church more solemn, perhaps, than usual.
To Isabel it was all very strange, but as the sun sank to rest among the
ocean waves, she joined in the rites of her husband's creed with a
simple, and confiding faith, not understanding them, and night gradually
gathered round the crew of the raft. Inured to danger, and now fully
armed, one after another of the little party lay down to sleep, and soon
all was quiet on board.
The wind had fallen, and with it the sea, the motion of the spars
becoming less and less. The night was warm, the stars were shining
brilliantly, and the moon, in her first quarter, was rising over the
ocean, making a long narrow strip of silver on the waves. The sail was
raised at the opening of the cabin, and on the planking before it sat
Isabel. Her husband's arm was round her, and her head leaned back on
his breast, the long hair uncared for, falling on the planks which
formed the deck, while the starlight shone on her face, and twinkled in
her black eyes. The sail of the raft just drew, but barely so.
"How quiet all seems, Enrico; except the splash of the waves, there is
not a sound abroad."
"Yes, many years hence we may talk of this. Does it not seem strange to
be floating about on a few sticks in the middle of the ocean? Hark! do
you hear that?"
A loud noise, like the blowing off of steam, was heard.
"It is a whale, Isabel."
"I did not know there were many of them here," said the fair girl, again
leaning back, for she had started up in alarm at the noise.
"There are plenty of an inferior description to those caught further
north, and further south," replied Hughes. "But tell me of your own
country, Isabel, a land I do not know."
"No; we will have it the other way about, Enrico. Tell me of our home
among your native mountains, and of the strange customs and manners of
the people."
"But they are not strange, and there is no difference between them and
others, save that they are of more ancient race and speak an older
tongue than the English. True tradition lives among the time-worn
mountains of the Cymri."
"Well, tell me one of them, Enrico mio."
With that faculty of enjoying the present, without thought of the
future, inherent to the Spanish and Portuguese nature, Isabel seemed to
have forgotten her position, even the dread peril which menaced them
from the evil humour and greed of the dissatisfied seamen. All was
merged in the present, in the quiet beauty of the night, the starlight
which glistened in her eyes, the long thin quivering strip of moonlight
dancing over the calm ocean waves, and the presence of him she loved
best.
The soldier was well armed. From his childhood he had been accustomed
to scenes of danger; his manhood had been spent in a country where the
European carries his life in his hand, and all on board the raft seemed
quiet. The men might have renounced their treacherous purpose.
"Well," said he, falling into the humour of the moment and drawing the
thick cloak so as to cover Isabel more completely, while he looked down
on the fair face turned up to meet his gaze, "I had an ancestor, who,
for the sake of his religion, which was yours, lost lands and property
that ought to have descended in direct line to us. Shall I tell you of
this?"
"Do, Enrico mio," replied Isabel, nestling nearer to him.
"There is an old mansion near the sea shore in North Wales. It is a
small farm-house now, Isabel, and though many hundreds of people who go
year after year to the two well-known towns of Conway and Llandudno pass
it often, though they remark its old Elizabethan windows, its twisted
chimneys, and queer odd look, none ever take much notice of it, because
near it stands the lordly house of Gloddaeth, surrounded by its sweeping
woods and noble park. Yet it is just of this old farm-house I am going
to tell you."
"Don't talk of trees and parks, Enrico; it makes me feel such a longing
for land," said Isabel.
"It was a curious pile in the days of which I speak, that old house of
Penrhyn, with its uncouth rambling style of architecture, belonging to
no age in particular, but a little to all. The principal part of it,
however, had been built in Queen Elizabeth's time, and, as I have said,
many of the queer gables and twisted chimneys yet remain. Before it
lies the sea, and away to the right a chain of magnificent mountains,
sweeping into the very heart of Snowdonia. The Denbighshire range, and
the long low hills trending away to the mouth of the Dee, give a charm
to the landscape, while the broad lands of Penrhyn lie stretched around.
The woods of Gloddaeth and Bodysgallen add to the beauty of the scene,
and close to the house a chapel, in good repair, the ruins of which
still stand, then told of the religious faith of the Pughs of Penrhyn.
"Between them and the powerful family of the lords of Gloddaeth a feud
existed, and the Sir Roger Mostyn of that day had added to it by forcing
his neighbour to remove the stone cross which formed the only ornament
of the chapel. The owner of the place, Robert Pugh of Penrhyn, was old,
and a mere tool in the hands of a wily priest, Father Guy. This latter
was a dangerous man. Bred in the Jesuit `Collegio dei Nobili' at Rome,
he had by accident inherited his brother's titles and part of his
estates. The rank Sir William Guy never publicly assumed. Wholly
absorbed in his religious views he had visited many countries, and had
in his fanaticism longed even for the crown of martyrdom.
"The small Catholic community, existing by sufferance only in the heart
of this wild Welsh land, had attracted his attention, and he had asked
and obtained the small chaplainry of Penrhyn, soon acquiring a complete
ascendancy over the owner.
"The tenants of the place, as well as those of Coetmore, were at his
disposal, old Robert Pugh's only son and heir, Henry, being affianced to
Lucy Coetmore. Help had been promised by the Earl of Shrewsbury and
other Catholic nobles in England, so the fanatic priest had determined
to raise the standard of revolt, and thought he saw his way to success."
"And Lucy Coetmore, Enrico, was she beautiful?"
"You shall see her picture yourself, Isabel. It hangs in the entrance
of Plas Coch, on the banks of the Conway;" and Hughes paused, for the
memory of the quiet valley and the flowing river, with its grey ruins
and old Roman remains, came over him as he glanced at the waste of
waters, while their helpless position struck him in contrast with a
sickening sensation.
"What a curious red star that is down in the horizon!" he remarked. "I
could almost fancy it goes out sometimes; but to continue--
"Lucy was a tall stately heiress; her hair was not like yours, Isabel,
but of a golden brown, and her eyes blue and full of melancholy
softness, her complexion of that transparent white and red so seldom
seen united with strong constitutions. The white was the enamelled
white of ivory, and the red was the blush of the wild rose. The charm
of her beautiful face and well-turned head was heightened by the
graceful neck and slender figure. Lucy was a Saxon beauty."
"And did she die young?" languidly asked Isabel.
"She did; leaving one daughter, who married my great grandfather, and
through whom the property came into my family; but now we must leave
Penrhyn for a time, dearest.
"It was ten o'clock in the morning, and Sir Roger Mostyn sat in the
great hall of Gloddaeth. There was the ample fireplace with its
old-fashioned dogs, the panelled and carved oaken walls and roof. There
was a balcony at the further end, where the white-haired harpers played,
and sang tales of war and love; curious antique mottoes were blazoned on
the walls in old Welsh characters. There, too, were the arms of the
Mostyns and the Royal device of the Tudors, with the red dragon grinning
defiance to the world. Sir Roger seemed uneasy as he threw open the
latticed window and let in a glorious flood of sunshine and fresh air
into the ancient hall. On the terrace beyond several children were
playing, while before him, for many a mile, lay his own broad lands.
The woods of Bodysgallen and of Marl were waving in the wind. There
were the grey towers of Conway Castle and the glancing river, the noble
background of the Snowdonian Mountains closing the view, with the
splendid outline of old Penmaenmawr as it sank with one sheer sweep into
the sea."
"I don't want to hear of all that, Enrico," said Isabel, slipping her
hand into her husband's. "I don't care for waving trees, old ruins, and
rivers--at least not here."
"Well, I don't think Sir Roger Mostyn did either at that moment, for his
face was clouded with care.
"`And so, Griffith,' he said to a man who was standing near the door,
`that was all you learned?'
"`It was, Sir Roger; but not all I saw. Susan was as close as a miser
with his gold, and though I slept in an out-house and only returned half
an hour since, she would tell me nothing.'
"`And you say great preparations were on foot for the reception of
guests?'
"`Messengers were coming and going, Sir Roger, the whole night long; the
butchers were busy slaughtering; all was bustle and excitement.'
"Thou art a poor lover, Griffith, if this is all thou couldst obtain.
"`About twelve o'clock, Sir Roger,' continued the fellow, reddening, `I
heard the tramp of men, and looking out, I saw a company of about fifty.
They appeared to obey a word of command, were dressed in grey frieze,
and armed. The windows of the chapel were a blaze of light. I learned
that they were Irish from the Isle of Man.'
"`Very well, Griffith; send the steward here;' and Sir Roger leaned on
the sill of the latticed window in deep thought. The children called to
him in their play, but he did not see them; the birds sang and the
leaves rustled, but he did not hear them.
"There you are, Enrico, with your birds and trees again, and we on the
broad ocean, with the sea below us, and the blue sky overhead.
"Yes, but there is love in both cases. As to who is in love on board
the raft, you know as well as I do," and the speaker bent over the form
nestled on his bosom, and kissed the fair forehead.
There was a moment's silence, and one of the apparently sleeping men
lifted his head, glanced around, and then, as Hughes continued his tale,
dropped again on the deck, uttering a heavy curse.
"Father Guy had brought over a strong body of the Catholic peasantry
from Ireland, the cutter which landed them lying in a snug little bay
near the farm. It is such a beautiful spot that bay, Isabel, formed by
the hills dying away into the sea, and the rugged sides of the Little
Orme."
"Now, Enrico, I won't have it. Tell me of anything except rocks, trees,
and birds," murmured Isabel.
"Well, night had set in. The stars were gleaming round the twisted
gables and chimneys of Penrhyn, but the windows of the little chapel
were a blaze of light. Inside it some twenty noblemen were assembled,
the last relics of the Catholic religion among the mountains of North
Wales. The altar was decked out for mass, the long tapers lighted, the
fragrant incense floated on the air, while, in the full splendour of his
robes, stood Father Guy.
"He was speaking eloquently and earnestly, just as a man, wearing a
heavy horseman's cloak, glided in through the doorway of the chapel.
"His audience were so wrapped up in the words they heard, and in the
powerful appeal to their feelings so carried away by his eloquence, that
he only remarked and recognised the intruder, who was no other than Sir
Roger Mostyn.
"`Yes, my sons,' concluded the old priest, `prompted by the Master of
Iniquity, they would deny us the worship of our God, they would destroy
religion by the introduction of schismatic doctrines. They would make
the tenets of an ancient and holy Church subservient to the will of an
earthly king, putting off and on its principles at pleasure, like to a
raiment. I say unto you, that death is a meet reward for these usurpers
of our Church--that he who aids not in the holy work set on foot this
night belongs not unto us. Go forth, my sons, uphold the banner of the
Church: let its enemies perish from the face of the earth, and, as a
sign unto you that the God of our fathers is with you, turn, and behold
whom he has delivered into your hand.'
"The long, white, transparent fingers pointed towards the doorway, where
Sir Roger Mostyn stood.
"It was a strange scene that chapel blazing with light, as, dropping his
cloak, Sir Roger strode into its centre, dressed in the uniform of his
own regiment of Yeomanry.
"`Away with him,' cried the priest, and a score of blades leaped from
their scabbards.
"`Silence, gentlemen,' said the baronet, no way dismayed, his voice
sounding clear and sonorous above the tumult, `the place is surrounded.
I have but to raise my voice, and the soldiers enter. Disperse while
there is yet time.'
"The conspirators looked into each other's faces with blank amazement.
Some moved towards the door of the chapel and, returning, told that men
wearing the Royal uniform were outside.
"`It shall not be said that we, the last remnants of the faithful in
this land, put our hands to the plough and turned back,' exclaimed
Robert Pugh of Penrhyn. `Philip Wynn, fall in our men. Forward,
gentlemen.'"
"Is that the star you mean, Enrico?" asked Isabel, interrupting the
tale, as she pointed to the westward; "it does not set, and seems larger
than it was. Can it be on land?"
Midnight, the hour fixed for the outbreak, had long passed, and all was
as yet quiet on board. The voices of the speakers ceased as both
concentrated their gaze on what seemed a red star, for Hughes did not
like to wake the sleepers for nothing.
A form moved at the far end of the raft. It was the man Gough, who
raised himself gently on his elbow, listening cautiously. Hearing no
noise save the swish of the waves, he pushed one or two of the men who,
wrapped in their coats, were fast asleep, and then throwing the covering
from him, he rose. The starlight gleamed from the blade of his long
knife as he stole his way round the cases which formed the sea wall of
the cabin. Step by step he advanced, but just as he rounded them,
Hughes rose, his back turned towards the man.
"I will wake the captain, Isabel. I know not what it is."
With a loud curse, the ruffian raised his arm, and the blow fell, with
such force, that it precipitated Hughes, who was wholly off his guard,
into the sea.
With a loud shriek, which aroused every one on the raft, Isabel rushed
forward. Seizing her with his iron grasp by the hair, the murderer's
knife once more gleamed in the starlight, when a straightforward blow
from Morris the carpenter struck him full between the eyes, knocking him
overboard; while shriek after shriek from Isabel rang out on the air.
The men had now formed, and came on with their knives gleaming in the
starlight, and a savage determination on their faces.
"Lay down your arms, my lads," shouted Weber; "your plot is known, and
we are armed."
For a second the crew seemed disposed to obey the voice whose tones of
command had so often rang in their ears.
"Come on, my lads," shouted a burly sailor; "follow Jack Smith, and
we'll soon have the gold."
A wild shout rang out, a pistol shot, and the speaker, struck right on
the bridge of the nose by a ball from the captain's pistol, gave a
fearful scream as he spun round in his intense agony; dropping the
knife, he uttered a volley of hideous imprecations, then came an
appalling yell, and he fell dead.
The men were startled, two of their leaders were gone, while opposed to
them, and fully armed, stood the captain and his party.
Isabel lay senseless on the planking of the cabin, and the seamen held a
hurried consultation together.
Meanwhile, in the sea, a fierce struggle had been going on. His left
arm pierced by the knife, which had sought his heart, but in the
darkness missed its aim, Hughes had risen to the surface after his first
plunge, the body of his antagonist Gough falling on him as he did so,
both instantly grappling.
The soldier's arm was powerless, as with a savage shout, and deep
guttural oath, Gough pinned his enemy by the throat; dashing back his
head against the rough planking of the raft, while with his clenched
fist he dealt him blow after blow.
Clutching wildly and impotently at his aggressor, Hughes felt his
strength failing. Soon his head was below the water again, he struggled
to the surface, his senses were rapidly leaving him, and the fierce
exulting shout of his enemy rang vaguely in his ears. Down came the
sledge-hammer blows on his defenceless head, the man Gough fighting like
a fiend, roaring in his fury, and biting like a wild beast at his foe,
as he once more tore away his victim's hold and pressed his head below
the raft. The water gurgled in his ears, the savage shout mixed with
the noise of the waves as he went down, when suddenly the grip on his
throat ceased, his antagonist's eyes rolled wildly; with a yell of
agony, he seemed to leap half his height from out of the wave, and then
all around it became reddened with his blood.
A violent struggle followed, making the sea boil for a moment, as a
monstrous shark disappeared with its prey, and the strong arm of the
carpenter seizing the drowning man by the collar, drew him from the
ocean crimsoned with the blood of his antagonist, and cast him, stunned
and senseless, on to the planking of the raft.
Volume 2, Chapter X.