We must now, dear reader, turn to other scenes and personages, and
pause, somewhat long perhaps, ere we resume the actual history Of poor
Arrah Neil; for those voices that were heard below, as we mentioned at
the end of the first volume, and the long absence of the landlady,
though they may seem simple enough, yet require some longer comment
than appears necessary at first sight, and are not unconnected either
with the past or future portions of this history.
There is upon the Yorkshire coast, somewhat to the south of
Flamborough Head, a small, retired bay, not above a quarter of a mile
broad, but deep in relation to the width; for the distance from each
of the projecting headlands by which it is formed, to the innermost
part of the bay, is nearly three-quarters of a mile. This little
natural haven is furnished with a sandy shore, and surrounded by steep
rocks at all points but that where it is united with the ocean and at
the mouth of a short narrow valley, which leads with a rapid ascent to
the tops of the cliff's above. Were it not that it is so difficult of
access from the land side, and that the water therein is somewhat
shallow, it might form an excellent port, sheltered from almost all
winds. But these circumstances have rendered it less frequented than
it might be; and though a few boatmen's cottages are now built upon
the shore, it is but little known, and at the time I speak of, was
without any vestige of human habitation, and rarely trodden by the
foot of man.
At about three o'clock, however, of an autumnal night, a boat might be
dimly discovered lying on the sandy shore, the tide being then at ebb.
In it were four men apparently sailors, two of whom were stretched
sound asleep in the stern, whilst two sat talking together in low
tones on the gunwale of the boat, supplying the intervals of
conversation by manifold potent whiffs of the meditative pipe.
As neither the topics they discussed, nor the language that they used,
would be either pleasant or edifying to the reader, we shall not pause
upon their discourse, but leave them smoking and talking on, to follow
two horsemen down from the entrance of the valley, as, at a slow and
cautious pace, they were guided on by a youth some fifteen or sixteen
years of age, who, in the hope of a proportionate recompense, took
care to point out to them the various obstacles that lay in the way.
Now it was a mass of rock, now a large fissure, now a sudden descent.
now the course of the little brawling stream, somewhat swelled by the
rain which had fallen in the early part of the night.
But all these difficulties were at length overcome, though the one
said to the other, that it put him in mind of the Pass of
Roncesvalles, and the other replied, "As much like Roncesvalles, my
good friend, as a Cheshire cheese is to the Peak of Derby. But, pray
recollect your taciturnity. It will not do to break out now. There is
the boat, I see;" and advancing over the sand, he spoke a few words to
one of the men who was awake, and who replied with the common and
significant answer made by Englishmen on so many different occasions
of "All's right, sir."
The other man, in the meanwhile, roused up their two companions; and
the horsemen dismounted from their beasts, and put the bridles into
the hand of the youth who had served them as a guide. The one who
appeared to be the principal personage of the party, seemed to add a
piece of money to that which he placed in the lad's palm, saying,
"Mind you lead them back carefully, and he will give you the same when
you deliver the horses to him in good condition."
The young man thanked him warmly, and promised all manner of care. The
two cavaliers having placed themselves in the stern of the boat, it
was easily pushed off into the sea, which was there calm and tranquil;
and the sailors springing in, took to their oars, and pulled away
towards the mouth of the bay.
Speedily the little boat began to show that all was not quite so
smooth beyond the point; tossing up and down as they approached the
open sea, and labouring with the eddies produced by the contending
wind and tide amongst the scattered rocks which stood out from the
headland. When they had once issued forth upon the bosom of the wide
ocean, they found a heavy sea running, and the wind directly contrary
to the course they wished to steer, so that but little way was made,
notwithstanding the sturdy strokes of the rowers, and day began to
dawn before they were a mile from the bay.
The first light of the morning showed them, what they had not before
perceived, a small cutter lying at anchor, still at the distance of a
mile and a half or two miles; and as they appeared likely to be some
hours before they reached her, the one gentleman whispered to the
other, "Let us give these poor fellows some relief, Barecolt. You take
one oar, and I can take another, and then those who rest can relieve
the other two after a while."
"With all my heart, mon colonel," replied Captain Barecolt, "though
this water work is neither your trade nor mine."
The proposal of Lord Beverley was soon propounded to the men, and
gladly enough adopted; but still a considerable time elapsed before
they reached the little cutter, which hoisted sail and put to sea as
soon as they were on board.
The morning was fair, with a strong wind blowing, not the most
favourable that could be conceived for the course which they were
destined to pursue, but still not directly contrary, and they made
their way slowly on through the dashing billows, at the rate of some
or three or four miles in the hour. Lord Beverley and his companion,
Barecolt, walked the deck, speaking little to each other, or to the
rest, and the peer keeping a watchful eye upon the loquacious captain,
to make sure that he did not give way to his talkative propensities in
favour of the skipper, or any of the mariners of the ship.
It was evident that the two passengers were perfectly unknown to their
shipmates, both from the manner in which the latter examined them when
they came on board, and from the fact of Lord Beverley, whenever he
did speak, conversing with Barecolt in French, and addressing the
master of the vessel in broken English. The persons of the two
gentlemen also were disguised, as far as mere clothing went. Barecolt,
for his part, was dressed in a sober-coloured grey suit, with a buff
belt, and a black hat and feather. The whole was in very good keeping,
except in respect of certain red ribbons, which his taste or finery
could not forbear from applying to various parts of his dress; and he
might have well passed for a respectable French citizen, somewhat
given to the juice of the grape, and not very affluent in his
circumstances.
Tire earl was habited more richly, but in a very different style from
that of an English cavalier; and although the pointed beard was still
in fashion in England, he had sacrificed that ornament of the human
countenance to bring himself to the likeness of certain young French
nobles, who, at that time, were labouring zealously to exclude beards
from fashionable society; and who had so far succeeded, that not long
after, one of the old French court, who adhered to the custom of
nature and his ancestors, was known by the name of "the man with the
beard." This change had made a very great difference in his
appearance, which he had increased by dyeing his hair and moustache of
a darker hue, so that none but those who knew him intimately would
have recognised him without very close inspection.
After sailing on for about two hours, making their way slowly from the
English coast, which, however, was still seen rising in long lines
above the waters, a large vessel was perceived bearing direct towards
them, with all sails set, while a fleet, apparently of fishing-boats,
were coming upon the other tack.
The master of the schooner seemed to pay but little attention to
either; but Lord Beverley felt some anxiety, and not a little
impatience, to ascertain the character of the large vessel, as a ship
named the "Good Hope," laden with ammunition, money, and stores, had
been daily expected on the coast for the last fortnight, and he had
been directed by the king to instruct the officers on board, if he met
her on his passage, on no account to trust themselves in Hull, the
governor of which had openly declared for the parliament. The master,
however, continued to walk up and down the opposite side of the deck,
merely giving a casual glance to the other vessel, till the earl
crossed over and inquired if he knew the ship that was approaching.
"She is a king's ship," replied the man, with a sort of dull
taciturnity, which sailors sometimes affect towards landsmen,
especially if they are of a different nation.
"But is it the Good Hope?" demanded the earl. "If so, I am commanded
to board her."
"It looks like her," replied the captain, continuing his walk; "but we
shall soon know, and then you can do as you like."
Ere many minutes were over the captain pronounced the vessel to
be the "Good Hope;" and as they approached somewhat nearer, a signal
was made, upon which the cutter brought to, and the boat being
lowered--the only one which she possessed--the earl proceeded to the
other ship, taking with him our good friend Captain Barecolt, rather
(to use a familiar expression) to keep him out of harm's way than for
the pleasure of his society.
Although signals had been made and answered, it was evident that the
people on board the large vessel viewed the approach of the little
boat with some suspicion, believing, as the earl found, that the
object was but to detain them till some larger force arrived. There
were several persons at the gangway, watching eagerly the approach of
the visiters, and not a little puzzled did they appear by the
appearance of the earl and his companion, when the boat ran alongside.
The earl looked up and smiled, for he recognised not a few of those
who stood upon the deck above as personal acquaintances of his own,
and faithful servants of the king.
With a slow step, however, and a grave face, he climbed the vessel's
side; but when once he stood upon the deck, removed from the eyes and
ears of the boatmen, he stretched out a hand to two gentlemen, who
stood on either side, saying--
"Welcome, Pollard!--welcome, Berkeley! You have been long looked for."
"By my life, the Earl of Beverley!" cried Colonel Ashburnham, who
stood beyond. "Why, oons, man! who would have known you in that black
wig?"
"My own hair, I assure you," replied the earl. "Do not libel it,
Ashburnham; there is not a hair on my head that is false. But I can
stay only a moment, for I am bound for France on the king's service;
and I have it in command to tell you on no account to venture into
Hull. Sir John Hotham holds with the parliament, and, as a new convert
to treason, is likely to make a merit of any violent act. You must
give me your news, however. Tell me what succour you bring to the
king, and what support you find in Holland."
"To France!" said Ashburnham, thoughtfully. "I wish to heaven you
would give me a passage, Beverley; for his majesty can do without me
for a time, and I can serve him better there than here. I was but now
casting about in my mind which way I should get across as soon as I
landed."
"That is easily done," answered the earl. "But you must make haste; I
can stay for no packing; for, to say truth, I love not the look of all
this fleet of boats, some of them well-nigh as big as our cutter
there; and, mark you, there are two large vessels just appearing round
the point."
"Well! I am with you in a moment," replied Colonel Ashburnham; "and as
for news, I will tell you all as we sail along."
Thus saying, he descended for what he called a moment to the cabin,
while the earl remained upon deck, and gathered from the gentlemen who
stood round the tidings that they brought from Holland. The colonel,
however, was somewhat longer than Lord Beverley could have desired, as
he watched with no unreasonable apprehensions the nearer approach of
the boats, and the growing distinctness of three large vessels, as
they came scudding along with a fair wind from the side of Hull.
"Ashburnham! Ashburnham!" he cried at length, approaching the
cabin-stairs, "on my life I can stay no longer. Every minute is full
of danger."
"Here I am!" cried Colonel Ashburnham. "I have been only securing my
papers;" and the moment after he appeared on the deck, with two large
leathern bags in his hand, which were cast into the boat; and, with a
brief farewell to those on board, and a recommendation to make all
sail, the earl descended the ship's side, followed by his friend. The
sailors were ordered to pull back as fast as possible to the ship;
and, whispering to his new companion to forget him as Lord Beverley,
and merely to know him as a French officer with whom he had casually
become acquainted, the earl introduced Barecolt to him as Captain
Jersval, an officer from Brittany.
Whatever conversation they might have had, if time and opportunity had
served, was cut short by the evident signs of an enemy's approach,
displayed both by the boats and the ships which they had seen. Signals
that the cutter did not understand, and could not answer, were made by
the larger ships; and before the earl and his companion were half-way
from the "Good Hope" to his own vessel, the former was in full sail
away, and a shot was fired across the bows of the latter, as a
notification to lie-to.
The rowers plied their oars with all the vigour and activity which the
necessity of the case required, but it was in vain. Ere they had
reached the ship's side, the master had quietly hauled down his
colours as sign of surrender.
"This is infamous!" cried Ashburnham. "The cowardly vagabond! What's
to become of us now?"
"Faith, we must take our chance," replied the earl; "perhaps we may
prevail upon him yet to make sail. At all events, I must destroy some
letters I have on board; and perchance I may escape unknown, even if I
be taken into Hull; for I do not think that Hotham and I ever met more
than once."
"I have no such luck," answered Ashburnham, "he knows me as an old
enemy--a thing not so easily forgotten as an old friend. But I will
not spoil your fortune, Beverley. Remember, we never met before, mon
colonel, and if this good gentleman would take my advice," he added,
turning to Barecolt, "he would follow the same plan, which is the only
way for safety, depend upon it."
"Oh! I will be strangely ignorant," replied Barecolt; "but I thought I
heard you talk of papers in those bags, sir. The sea is a more quiet
place at the bottom than at the top."
"Right! right!" cried Colonel Ashburnham. "Hand me that
grappling-iron, my man," he continued, speaking to one of the sailors.
The man obeyed; and fastening one of the leathern bags he had brought
with him to the hook of the iron, Colonel Ashburnham pitched them both
into the sea together, just as the boat ran alongside the cutter.