As the commander of the corvette was about to descend the glen, his
attention was arrested by the faint tramp of horses' hoofs passing
rapidly over the downs. He turned his head and at that instant saw a
young lady on horseback, not far from him, cantering gaily along, while
at a short distance behind her was another lady, followed by a groom.
At that moment the figure of the mad woman, which had a short time
before appeared to him, rose suddenly from behind the ground where he
had last seen her. She uttered a wild shriek; the effect was to make
the leading horse start and rear violently. The animal, apparently, was
not well broken in. Again and again it reared, backing down towards the
edge of the cliff. The young officer saw the lady's danger, and in an
instant sprang towards her. She uttered a shriek as she discovered how
fearfully near the edge of the cliff her horse had carried her. The
officer grasped her bridle, but in vain tried to draw back the
frightened animal. It seemed resolved to throw itself over the
precipice. In another moment the lady and her steed would have been
carried to destruction.
"Throw yourself from your saddle, and trust to me," exclaimed the young
officer imploringly.
She cast herself forward and fell into his arms. Alas! her habit caught
in the stirrup. Again the horse reared.
"I will perish with her," exclaimed the young man mentally. Happily,
the skirt tore, and in another moment was disengaged; while the
frightened animal, with one bound, leaped over the cliff. So extreme
was the danger to which the young lady had been exposed, that scarcely
knowing she had escaped it, she fainted. The young officer, with his
precious burden, hurried up the downs, when her companion, jumping from
her horse, came to his assistance.
"O Nora, Nora," she exclaimed, "do tell me that you are alive! O that
we had some water to give her, such a faint as this is dangerous. What
can be done?"
The groom, observing that there was a stream a few hundred yards on,
dashed forward on his horse, and quickly returned with his hat full.
Lady Sophy, loosening Nora's dress round her neck, and holding her head
on her knee, sprinkled the water over her face, which was turned in the
direction of the wind. By this means she quickly returned to
consciousness, and, opening her eyes, they fell on the countenance of
the young officer.
"Oh, Captain Denham," she exclaimed, "I owe my life to you. In another
moment I should have been dashed to pieces. I thought that I had gone
over the precipice. How grateful my dear father will be to you!"
"Then that must be your ship," said Lady Sophy, pointing to the
corvette. "You must come with us at once to the Castle."
Captain Denham, of course, could only express his very great
satisfaction at having been the means of preserving the life of Lady
Nora, though he could claim no credit for having done so. Whatever had
been his previous intentions, he could do nothing else than accompany
the ladies till he had seen them safe at the Castle. He made anxious
inquiries after the Earl, and found, from the account they gave him,
that he was greatly broken in health, not having recovered from the
effects of the West Indian climate, or the loss of his son. In many
respects the meeting could not fail to be a sad one. The sight of
Captain Denham recalled painfully to Lady Sophy the death of her
intended husband, while Lady Nora, naturally, could not help thinking of
her young brother, who had been Captain Denham's friend.
The distance to the Castle was considerable, but Lady Nora declared her
inability to mount a horse, even if one had been sent for; nor would she
consent to take that of Lady Sophy. Supported, however, by the arm of
the captain, she proceeded towards home. They had many things to talk
about. Captain Denham had to describe how he had been sent to the coast
of Ireland to render assistance to any of the loyal subjects of the king
who might require it, whilst the ladies described their passage home,
and the feelings with which they had returned once more to the old
Castle.
"Things are greatly changed," observed Lady Nora, "we have none of the
gay society we used to have here; my father also is too much out of
spirits to see company. Occasionally a few neighbours look in upon us;
or when any ship comes into the bay we see some of the officers, and Mr
Jamieson and dear Miss O'Reilly come over to pay us a visit; but you,
Captain Denham, will always be welcome."
Captain Denham and his fair companions had arrived at the Castle some
time before the midshipmen with the boat appeared, having been joined in
the meantime by the second lieutenant.
The Earl welcomed him warmly, and begged him to take up his residence at
the Castle; but this invitation he was compelled to decline, as he made
it a point of duty never to sleep away from the ship at night.
Lady Nora had sufficiently recovered to appear at dinner, to which
Denham's officers, who had come on shore, were also invited. Just
before dinner Mr Jamieson and his blind niece arrived. Lady Nora was
delighted to see them, and introduced Captain Denham to them both. The
blind lady seemed to take especial interest in him. She plied him with
questions, asking him what part of the world he had visited, in what
ship he had served, and in what actions he had been engaged.
The Earl had broken through the usual custom of sitting late at dinner;
indeed the gentlemen present seemed in no way disposed to follow it.
Soon after the ladies had retired, Mr Jamieson and Captain Denham led
the way to the drawing-room. Captain Denham approached Lady Nora and
inquired anxiously if she felt perfectly recovered from the effects of
her alarming accident. "Oh, yes; indeed I am," she answered, glancing
up at him with a look which might have made many men vain. "I dare not
trust myself to thank you as I ought, or to speak about it. I cannot
help thinking of what would have been my fate had you not been there to
save me. How often have I crossed those downs without dreaming of
danger; and indeed it was very curious how that poor mad woman should
have startled my horse. I have met her often before, and she has done
much the same sort of thing; but the poor animal was young, and had not
been ridden for some days. Sophy and I were on our way to visit some of
the poor people we are accustomed to call upon, and I was anxious to see
an old widow who lives in a little cove under where you saw me; but that
can be a matter of no interest to you."
As she spoke she again gazed up in his face. Something strange seemed
to flash across her mind. She cast another earnest, inquiring look at
him. The colour mounted to his cheek. His eyes fell, then again he
looked earnestly at her. Nora's breath came and went rapidly; her bosom
heaved.
"What is the matter with Nora?" exclaimed Lady Sophy, springing forward,
"she is fainting. Help! help!"
In an instant Lady Sophy was by Nora's side, and just in time to receive
her as she fell fainting into her arms. Captain Denham stood for an
instant so overwhelmed with some deep emotion, as scarcely to comprehend
what had occurred.
The bell was rung, and several attendants rushed in, and Nora was borne
fainting from the room.
It was still daylight, but just at this moment dark clouds began to
collect in the sky, casting a gloom over the landscape. The lieutenant
of the corvette had gone to the window looking out over the ocean. He
hurriedly came back, and while his commander was standing still
bewildered it seemed by what had occurred, he came up to him, and said--
"Sir, there is a change in the weather. The wind has increased
considerably, and the bay in a short time will be no place for us."
This address aroused Captain Denham.
"You are right, Matson," he answered, looking out at the window for an
instant, "I will go on board immediately. We must bid farewell to the
Earl and be off. There is not a moment to lose, and I hope Evans will
get the ship under weigh without waiting for me."
Just as he was quitting the room Lady Sophy re-entered it, and assured
him that Lady Nora had quickly recovered, though still unnerved by the
danger she had gone through. "I trust that she will have perfectly
recovered by to-morrow," she added. "And, believe me, Captain Denham,
you will always be a welcome guest at the Castle."
She spoke earnestly, her looks giving expression to her words.
"She is a dear, high-minded girl, and, believe me, I prize her, and will
watch over her as a sister, or I should say rather, as a daughter."
"Thank you, thank you," answered the young captain, pressing Lady
Sophy's hand; "you know my feelings for your cousin, but to no one else
would I venture to acknowledge them. To her I feel that I have no right
to speak of them. I leave myself, therefore, in your hands."
"I trust to be so guided as to act for the best for you both," said Lady
Sophy, "but I must not longer detain you. I hope that we may see you
here again before many days have passed."
Well satisfied, as he had reason to be, with what Lady Sophy had said,
Captain Denham followed his officers, who had already preceded him to
the boats. He stepped in, and the order was given to shove off. The
boats made the best of their way towards the corvette. The wind was
already blowing strongly, and a heavy sea rolled into the bay.
"It is as much as we shall do, if we manage to beat out of the bay this
evening," observed the lieutenant to the midshipman in his boat, "I
ought to have kept my eyes more about me, though it is natural enough
the captain's should have been preoccupied."
"Yes, sir, indeed that is a lovely girl, Lady Nora; he will be a happy
man who wins her."
"That is a matter, Mr Merton, too delicate for me to pronounce on,"
answered the lieutenant; "but I was speaking of the difficulty of
beating out of the bay."
"Oh yes, sir, I beg your pardon," said the midshipman; "still I believe
we shall be able to carry all sail, and if so, the _Ariadne_ will soon
find her way out of this difficulty."
"That is an ugly reef to the north," observed the lieutenant; "I would
rather it were fifty miles away than where it is."
"Yet it affords us good shelter when the wind is as it was this
morning."
"So it does," answered the lieutenant, "but it is directly in our way
when we have to beat out when the wind is in the west."
The captain made no remark to the midshipman in his boat; he was too
completely absorbed in his own thoughts, though he occasionally urged
his crew to greater exertion by the usual exclamation of "Give way,
lads, give way."
The boats were soon alongside. Directly they were seen coming, the
officer in command had begun to get the corvette under weigh, and when
the captain stepped on board the anchor was hove up to the bows.
The corvette, under topsails and top-gallant-sails, was now hauled close
to the wind. She cast to the north, and stood directly towards the reef
of rocks which appeared ahead. The captain took his place in the
weather rigging, to con her, while scarcely had sail been made on the
ship before the increase of wind made it doubtful whether she would
carry what was already set. The dark clouds came rolling up in thick
masses from the west overhead, while heavy seas, topped with foaming
crests, rolled in from the same direction. The corvette heeled over
until her lee ports were in the water, still it was not a moment for
shortening sail. Now the young commander gazed at the shore under his
lee, now to the dark rocks ahead, and now at his masts and spars. "No
higher," he had more than once to cry out, as the men at the helm,
anxious to gain every advantage, kept her too close to the wind. "We
cannot hope to weather the reef on this tack," he observed to the
lieutenant, who was near him.
The crew were all at their stations, attentive to obey the least sign
from their commander. Now a fiercer gust than ordinary made the ship
heel lower in the water. Now she rose again. It was a critical moment
as she rushed forward with headlong speed towards the threatening reef,
over which the sea was already furiously beating. Still the young
commander stood calm and collected. Now his hand was raised, and as he
glanced towards the helmsman, now he looked once more to the sails
aloft. "Hands about ship," he shouted in a clear, ringing voice, which
every man heard fore and aft. "Helm's-alee! Tacks and sheets! Main
sail haul!" It seemed as if in another moment the beautiful vessel
would spring forward upon the threatening rocks. She was in stays, but
the slightest shift of wind to the south would have driven her to
destruction. Anxiously the commander looked at the fore-topsail still
aback. For an instant the ship's head appeared not to be moving. Then
gradually the wind forced her round. "Of all haul!" he shouted in a
cheerful voice, as she sprang forward towards the opposite side of the
bay. Still she was not free. The headway she made was counteracted by
the heavy seas which now rolled in upon the land, and forced her towards
it. Now she was standing towards Kilfinnan Castle. The commander
turning, looked at the reef they had left; then once more casting his
gaze ahead,--"We shall scarcely weather it the next tack," he said to
himself. "If the wind holds as it does now, however, and if it does not
increase much, the tight little ship will still work her way through
it."
Anxiously those in the Castle watched the progress of the corvette.
They well knew the danger to which she was exposed, for although many a
year had passed since any large ship had been cast away in their bay,
yet there were traditions of men-of-war being driven on the coast, and
the whole of their gallant crews perishing. Numerous merchant vessels
and smaller craft had also from time to time been dashed to pieces on
the rocks, and many sad tales there were of lives being lost, when the
persons on board the vessels appeared within but a short distance of the
shore.
Nora had sufficiently recovered to go to the window and gaze forth upon
the vessel.
"O, what a beautiful fabric she is," she exclaimed; "how rapidly she
draws near!" With the glass she could almost see those on board. "But
will she, do you think, escape that reef to the north, when she once
more tacks."
"Oh, yes, I trust so," answered Lady Sophy, "he who commands on board is
an experienced seaman, you know, and if any human being could carry the
ship out of the bay, he will do so."
Besides the young ladies, several other persons on shore were watching
the progress of the corvette, as she endeavoured to beat out of the bay.
Far down below, in the sheltered cove, in front of her cottage, stood
Widow O'Neil. Her white locks, escaping from the band which generally
bound them, streamed in the wind. The hood of her red cloak was thrown
back, and while with one hand she steadied herself by one of the
supports of the deep eaves of the cottage, she stretched forth the other
towards the ocean, as if she would direct the course of the bark which
struggled through the foaming waves.
"They are brave men on board that craft," she exclaimed to herself, "but
oh, it is hard work they will have, to get clear of the bay. Proud and
trim as that beautiful ship looked this morning, who can say but what
before another sun rises, she will be a shattered wreck upon yonder
cruel rocks. Such a sight I have seen night after night as I lay on my
couch, I know not whether asleep or awake; but, oh, may Heaven protect
those on board from such a fate, if their vessel, stout as she may be,
is thrown upon yonder reef.
"My boy, my boy! Even now he may be on the stormy ocean, threatened
with shipwreck, as are those in yonder beautiful vessel. May Heaven
protect him and them!"
As she spoke, the fishwife stretched forth her neck more eagerly over
the ocean, and again and again she offered up a prayer for the safety of
those on board the ship which struggled below her. High up the glen, in
a sheltered place, yet still commanding a view of the bay, sat another
person. It was Father O'Rourke. He, too, was watching the ship, with a
very different feeling animating his heart, to that which worked in the
bosom of the widow. No prayer for the safety of those on board escaped
his lips. He seemed to gaze with satisfaction on the fearful danger to
which she was exposed. He more than once exclaimed to himself, "She
cannot escape yonder rocks, and then that pert and daring youth who set
me at defiance, with all his companions, will meet the fate which they
and their Saxon countrymen so well merit. Curses on the heads of those
who execute the behests of King George and his ministers. While we have
red-coats and blue-jackets arrayed against us, what hope is there of
liberty for old Ireland? I hate them all. From the king on his throne
to the meanest soldier who trails a pike in his service!"
At a short distance on a high and projecting part of the cliff, stood a
wild and fantastic figure. It was that of mad Kathleen. She waved her
arms round and round. Now she shouted, as if she would warn those on
board the ship of the danger they were approaching. Again and again she
cried out, as if encouraging them to perseverance in their bold attempt
at beating out of the bay. Sometimes she uttered blessings on their
heads, especially that of their young commander.
"A brave youth, a noble youth he is," she exclaimed; "even when I set
eyes on him this morning I felt my heart drawn towards him. Grievous
would it be for him to lose that fine ship, his first command, and still
more grievous were his life to be taken by the angry waves!"
Thus she continued for some time, until she was interrupted by a hand
being placed on her shoulder. She turned round and saw Miss O'Reilly
standing near her.
"What, Kathleen, are you trying to show yonder ship the way to beat out
of our bay?" asked Mr Jamieson, in his usual kind voice.
"I would I were on board, minister, that I might help to guide them,"
she answered, with a laugh. "There are many worse pilots than I am, and
often in girlhood's days have I sailed with my father on yonder sea,
sometimes, as now, tossed with waves, at other times calm and blue, like
a young maiden's eye, void of guile and treachery."
"But, tell me, Kathleen, do you think the ship will manage to escape
from the dangers by which she is surrounded?" asked Miss O'Reilly, in a
somewhat agitated voice. "They say her captain is a brave and gallant
officer, and it would be grievous if he were to lose that beautiful
vessel, for so I am told she is."
"God who guides the winds and gives them power alone knows whether
yonder ship will gain the open sea in safety," answered Kathleen; "but I
will tell you, dear lady, if you stay by me, what progress she makes.
If the prayer of a poor mad creature can save her, she is safe enough,
and the wind will hold as it does now, sufficiently to the south to
enable her to clear the reef. Oh, Miss O'Reilly, even now she seems
rushing forward to destruction."
"Whereabouts is she?" asked Miss O'Reilly eagerly.
"Not two hundred fathoms, it seems at this moment, from the reef,"
answered Kathleen. "If she can come about without difficulty, she will
escape, but if not, in a few minutes she will be cast on the rocks, and
then you know too well what will happen."
"Tell me, good Kathleen, tell me," said the blind lady, after a short
silence; "has she gone about? is there once more a prospect of her
escaping?"
"Again she is in stays!" exclaimed Kathleen. "See, see! the wind seems
to have caught her. Oh, may merciful Providence watch over her! It
seems to me that her head is once more turning towards the dreadful
rocks. Alas, alas! no power can save her."
"Oh, may Heaven protect them!" exclaimed the blind lady, turning her
sightless eyes in the direction of the ship. "Oh, may those brave men
on board escape the fearful danger in which they are placed!"
"Your prayers are heard, lady! your prayers are heard!" shouted
Kathleen; "the wind has taken her head-sails, and once more she is on
the starboard tack, standing away from that fearful reef."
Mr Jamieson and his niece stood for some time watching the progress of
the corvette, till the shades of evening, increased by the thick clouds
which obscured the sky, hid her from their sight; but they could not
persuade Kathleen to leave the spot, for she declared that she could
still see the ship through the mist. At length, the minister and his
niece returned to their home, leaving poor Kathleen still wildly waving
her arms and shouting, until her voice was hoarse, as if she would
address those on board the vessel.
"See, see! she is once more about! Surely her bowsprit is pointing more
seaward than it was before, and if the wind was to shift a little more
to the south, she would soon be clear of yonder fearful reef."
The corvette once more going about, stood to the north. Although the
wind might have drawn a little more to the south, yet this advantage was
counteracted by the fierceness with which it blew. The masts, with more
sail on them than it would have, under other circumstances, been deemed
prudent to set, bent with the unusual pressure. Sometimes, indeed, as
Captain Denham gazed up at them, they seemed like fishing-rods, so
fearfully did they bend before the breeze. The first lieutenant and
master were also looking up at them with not less anxiety than did the
captain. "They will scarcely stand this pressure," observed the former;
"what say you, master?"
"We must keep the canvas set, at all events, and trust to Providence,"
answered the master. "This is no moment for taking in a reef. If they
go and the ship refuses to stay, we must bring up, though I fear the
little vessel will scarcely hold her own against the heavy seas which
come rolling into this bay; and, to my idea, both she, and some of us on
board, will leave our bones to rot on the strand under our lee, if it
comes to that."
"Let's hope for the best, master," answered the first lieutenant. "See
how calm our captain looks. You would never suppose that he is aware of
the danger in which we are placed."
"He knows it pretty clearly, though," observed the master. "Hold on,
good sticks, hold on," he exclaimed, looking up at the masts. "They are
tough spars, I know, and they are now giving good proof of their
quality."
Sometimes, from the direction of the vessel's head, it appeared possible
that she might weather the reef towards which she was approaching.
Then, again, she fell off, and it was evident that she must make another
tack before there was a chance of her doing so. The commander seemed of
this opinion, and was clearly unwilling to approach again as near as
before to the reef. Again he shouted, "Hands about ship!" As before,
the helm was put down, the tacks and sheets were raised, the men hauled
with a will at the braces, and the ship's head, coming up to the wind,
continued for some moments pointing west, to the open part of the bay.
Anxiously the commander watched her movements. At one time it seemed as
if she had got stern way, and he opened his mouth about to give the
order to let go the anchor and to shorten sail. Those on board knew the
order would have been followed by another, dreaded by all seamen--to cut
away the masts, the only mode of proceeding to enable the corvette to
ride out the gale. Again and again the captain looked up at the
head-sails. "She is paying off!" he exclaimed. A shout, though
immediately suppressed, burst from the throats of the crew. For the
moment they were safe from the threatened danger. Again the corvette
stood across the bay. The topmasts, as before, bent to the gale.
"We shall easily clear that reef," observed the master. "Well, it is a
pleasure to see a man con a ship as our fine young skipper does. These
are moments to try a man's mettle, and he has shown that he is of the
true sort."
The corvette flew across the bay, almost, it seemed, with lightning
speed, so soon was she again on the opposite side. Another critical
moment had arrived, and it was only to be hoped that the gale would not
come down with greater force than before while she was in stays, or very
likely at that moment her topmasts would be carried away. Again about
she came; this time without difficulty, and now her head pointing
seaward, she stood out from the bay, still as those on shore watched her
through the fast gathering gloom of evening, she seemed to be drawing
nearer and nearer to the reef. Now once more she looked up to the west,
then again to the north; still the masts and spars stood. Yet, after
all, she was nearer the reef than under such circumstances a seaman
would wish to find his ship.
"Mr Matson," said the commander, looking down at his first lieutenant,
"we must at once take two reefs in the topsails; but it is a risk for
the hands aloft, a fearful risk indeed," he added.
"I am ready to lead the way, sir," exclaimed a young seaman, who was no
other than Ned Davis, the commander's old companion.
"Give the orders then, Matson," said the captain.
"Aloft, there," shouted the first lieutenant. Scarcely, however, had
the men sprang into the rigging, when there was a loud crash. The
main-topmast had gone close to the cap. The straggling sail and wreck
of the spars hanging over the side.
"Clear away the wreck," cried the captain. "Not a moment to be lost.
We must save the other masts."
The men flew aloft, Ned Davis being among the first drawing out their
knives from their pockets as they did so. In a few seconds the ropes
were severed, and the mast and spar fell overboard, with the still
loudly flapping sail. At the same moment the crew throwing themselves
out on the fore-topsail yard, that sail was quickly reefed. "You must
take another reef in it, Mr Matson," said the commander, "closely reef
it, or that mast will go also." The mizen-topsail with greater ease was
closely reefed. In consequence of the ship having been deprived even
for that short time of the power which urged her through the seas, she
had drifted down, it seemed, close upon the reef. Once more the captain
looked anxiously to leeward.
"We shall still weather the reef," he exclaimed to the first lieutenant,
who, after gazing at it, looked in his face as if to ask a question,
"Unless," the commander added, "the wind draws more out of the west."
Heeling over, however, less than she had before done to the blast, her
head pointed seaward, clear of the reef, still, should she be making
much leeway, it would be doubtful whether, after all, she would clear
it. To tack close to it, crippled as she was, would be dangerous in the
extreme. The commander stood, as before, at his post.
"She will do it, Matson," he said, speaking to his first lieutenant.
"God grant she may," answered the officer.
On she flew. The sea dashed in masses of foam high above the dark rocks
which formed the extremity of the reef. On, on, she stood. A few
seconds almost would decide her fate. Many an eye glanced over the
lee-bulwarks. The water washed up through the scuppers, and rose high
on deck. The crew sheltered themselves as best they could under the
weather-bulwarks, for the seas were breaking in masses of foam over the
weather-bows, deluging the decks fore and aft. The commander gazed also
anxiously at the reef. The corvette darted on. Already the foam which
flew over her seemed to unite with that which broke above the rocks.
Still, he did not turn pale, nor did his eye quiver. In another instant
she would be hurled to destruction or be free. The crew watched the
threatening reef, and many an old seaman felt that he had never been in
greater danger.