It was a fine, clear day, that on which they started for a ride upon
this beautiful island. The whole day was passed in visiting its wild
and romantic scenery, and its soft and verdant fields, its ruins of old
faded castles, and, in short, time flew so fast with them while they
were thus employed, that night overtook them far from the shore, and
indeed in a road and route where they found themselves quite bewildered
as to the proper course.
‘I have been thoughtless,’ said Lovell, ‘to let the time pass thus
unheeded, and find me here at this hour.’
‘Oh, we have nothing to fear here, surely.’
‘I don’t know, dearest, in olden times, and indeed till quite lately,
this island has been the very rendezvous of lawless and wicked
characters.’
At this moment a man rushed from a thicket and presented a pistol at
Lovell.
‘What would you have of me,’ he asked.
‘Hand over the money then, and go on your way,’ said the robber,
approaching to the steps of the vehicle as if to receive it.
Lovell waited until he was fairly within reach, when he threw himself
from his position with the whole weight of his body full upon the
robber, bearing him suddenly to the ground. As he fell, however, he
discharged his pistol, but it went wide of its air as regarded Lovell,
just grazing Fanny’s head, which together with the report, it being so
very close to her head, and pointed directly at her, stunned her so as
to render her insensible for some time.
The struggle between Lovell and the robber was but for a moment. The
powerful frame of the former was too much for his adversary who stunned
and bleeding from his fall, was soon senseless. Lovell was a person of a
peculiar temperament; he was not one to let off an offender in any case
when he could mete out to him his due.--Therefore after reviving Fanny
and convincing himself that she was not seriously hurt, he bound the
still senseless robber head and foot, and threw him into the back part
of the vehicle, a sort of waggon in which they rode, and then hastened
on happy to find a shelter.
This he soon met with in the shape of a neat and comfortable cottage,
where he found no trouble in obtaining assistance and such accommodation
as he so much needed. Fanny was kindly attended by the good woman of the
house, who said her husband would be home soon, that he was a fisherman
and had not yet got home from a two days cruise. Lovell had the robber
also cared for, and found on examination that he was injured even more
seriously than he had at first supposed, his head having received a
severe contusion in the fall. He dressed his wounds himself, being
somewhat versed in such matters, and left him to rest until morning.
Fanny soon recovered from her slight injury; indeed the very next
morning she was down in the lower room of the cottage surrounded by the
rosy cheeked children and grown up boys, who called the matron mother,
and this their home. The thrift and industry that reigned there struck
Lovell and his wife with great interest, for it was remarkable. The
children, five in number, were cloathed coarsely but with the utmost
neatness, and the rooms were the very picture of cleanliness and good
order. It was apparently, and indeed so the good mother had intimated
relative to her husband’s occupation, a fisherman’s cottage; but Fanny
said to her husband, ‘where can true content and happiness be found if
not in such circumstances as these.’
The husband and father had not yet returned though it was afternoon of
the subsequent day on which they had arrived at the cottage. Fanny was
evidently well enough to leave, but Lovell was anxious to see the father
of these bright eyed and rosy cheeked children, and to recompense him in
some degree for the hospitality they had enjoyed under his happy roof.
And in addition to this inducement to stop still longer, the robber whom
he had secured, and who now lay unable to move in one of the apartments
of the house, was pronounced by the physician whose services had been
procured at an outlay of no little trouble from a great distance, to be
dying, and Lovell wanted to see the matter at an end, either as to
his probable recovery, or proper attention paid to him when
deceased.--Several of the neighbors, who were but few, had called to see
him, but none could recognize him, and it was very evident that he was
a stranger in the neighborhood.--From him there could be no intelligence
gained, for he had few lucid moments, his injuries being mainly upon the
brain.
At last in one of those intervals of reason, when Lovell stood by
his side he looked at him and recognizing him, said: ‘I have wronged
you--forgive me. I have been driven step by step to this act, it was my
first--but did I not hear a voice with you that I knew? It sounded very
familiar, and brought back the remembrance of years long past.’
‘I hardly think it can be the case,’ said Lovell kindly. ‘The lady with
me was my wife.’
‘Can I see her?’ said the sufferer. ‘I would ask her forgiveness, too,
for I feel that I am about to die.’
‘I would ask your forgiveness for the evil I have done--can you forgive
one who is dying and is repentant?’
‘I forgive you with all my heart,’ said Fanny; ‘have you asked your
Maker to do so?’
‘Nay, I dare not!’ said the man, shuddering. ‘But he will forgive all
who truly repent,’ said Fanny; ‘I will pray for you.’
And she lifted her voice, low and musical, to her Maker, in the pious
prayer of a Christian, asking forgiveness for her enemy. It was a
beautiful sight, and Fanny never looked more lovely to Lovell than at
that moment.
‘Is there nothing in which we can serve you?’ asked Fanny at length, ‘no
message to your friends or family?’
‘None, I have none. My near relations are dead--my early friends have
long since discarded me! How strange that I remember so well your voice,
lady. Where can we have met before?’
‘Have you felt thus?’ said Fanny. ‘The first words you spoke caused the
same thought in my mind. I’ve have not even yet learned your name.’
‘It is Banning!’ said the man.
A few words sufficed to gratify the curiosity of both as to the
intervening years of their life. Banning had fallen into dissipated
habits, and by degrees come to that which he now was. He had sought the
island to escape the pursuit of his creditors and the police, and he
spoke truly when he said that this was his first step towards the life
of a highway robber. Strange fortune had thus thrown them together
again, but such are its wayward freaks that nothing is impossible.
Fanny stood by his couch to the last, and bade him _hope_. He clasped
the hands of Lovell and his wife warmly in his own, the very individuals
he would have sacrificed to his base purpose but a short time before,
and soon breathed his last.
Turning her eyes at this moment she beheld the good wife of the cottage
in the arms of her husband, who had just returned, and was walking
towards the place where she sat with the children.
No sooner did she distinctly observe him than she at once _recognized_
him, while he on his part also seemed embarrassed with inward
remembrances. At length as if the light had broke upon him all at once,
he exclaimed, warmly pressing her hand.
‘Captain Channing! I bid you welcome.’
Reader, it was the pardoned Englishman whom Fanny had spared on board
the Constance!
After a few days of happy fellowship and pleasant association, Lovell
and Fanny sought again the deck of the Vision.
It was scarcely three weeks from the day that the Vision left the Isle
of Man before she was riding at anchor quietly in the little harbor of
Lynn.
Fanny and Lovell had both had enough of adventure, at least for a
while, but nevertheless they kept the yacht in readiness for frequent
excursions on the element to which both had become so much attached.
Their fortune was ample, and there was no necessity for them to deny
themselves this or any other desirable amusement that fancy might
suggest.
It was while on an excursion with her husband, and far out of sight of
land, that Fanny gave birth to her first child, a noble and robust boy,
whose maritime birth no doubt influenced his choice of a profession. The
Vision was known in our harbor even until a few years since, and we are
told that not long since she was refitted and sold into the Venezulian
navy, being renowned for speed and excellent sea qualities. She is still
employed there, with a small armament and crew, as a revenue cutter or a
species of _guarda costa_.
CONCLUSION.
Terrence Moony was employed until ripe old age laid him up on the estate
of William Lovell, and he died happy, surrounded by every comfort
he could desire, and with his own children about him, to smoothe his
pillow, and regret him gone.
There is still another character in whom the reader has doubtless become
interested, and of whom we shall be expected to say something before we
close; our own feelings too, would lead us voluntarily to allude to him,
for there were many extenuating points in his character. We refer to Sir
Ralph Burnet of the Royal Navy.
Soon after he recovered from the effects of his severe wound, he applied
for a change of station, not wishing to be an enemy to a people whom
he honestly considered to be in the right, and whom at heart he wished
might prove successful in the cause that engaged them. He was soon
ordered on to the English coast, and greatly distinguished himself
there, in the war with the French, and several other important
engagements, until step by step, he became an Admiral, and for some
gallant act, was knighted by his King. He was true to his promise to
Fanny Campbell, and was wedded to fame only, but therein he chose a
distinguished mistress, and one that did him full honor.
Lovell had two sons, who partook of the martial character of their
parents, and now serve their country as officers in the right arm of its
defence, our gallant navy. These sons, too, have seen active service,
but we will speak no more of them.
The descendants of the High Rock hamlet still exist, and are yet
occupied like their parents, in the early times of the Revolution, in
the hardy and honest employment of fishermen. The inhabitants of the
hamlet removed to about two miles more easterly of the Rock, and were
merged into the community of the Swampscot fishermen of Lynn, a hardy
and industrious people. High Rock, firm and immovable, still towers
above the scene, and is often visited by our travelers to enjoy the
extended and beautiful prospect it affords, both of the land and sea,
from its elevated summit.
I could add no small degree of interest to this closing part of my
story, if I could take the reader over the turnpike road leading from
Lynn to Salem, where the old Mansion-house of the Lovell family still
remains, surrounded by well improved and highly cultivated lands, a
herald of the past. It was built by Lovell, and the style is but little
in advance of the earliest mode of architecture in the colonies; but it
is still a stout and commodious house, with every convenience the heart
need desire. We know that the reader who has perused our tale, would
look upon the spot with not a little interest, where Fanny, our heroine,
closed her days, and where the honest Terrence Moony displayed his skill
in gardening, until grey old age laid him quietly on the shelf. When
business or pleasure shall again call you to that vicinity, as you pass
through the town of Lynn, turn off from the common, and take the ‘upper
road,’ by the base of High Rock, and from its summit recall the ‘locale’
of our tale; then pass on through the now thickly settled part of the
town called Wood End, and taking the Northern road, strike again into
the great Eastern turnpike road that passes through Salem, and you will
shortly come upon the Lovell estate. I am vain enough to think that
perhaps some one may be induced to make the trip solely by reason of the
interest I may have created; if so, I can assure them that they will
be richly paid for the labor. If you do it, eschew the railroad, take a
horse and vehicle, and be your own master; go where you like, and return
when you will. This is independence; the deuce take all railroads, say
I, where romance is concerned, for while one is exercised by some very
fine feeling, he may awake from his lethargy, and find that the cars
have very quietly gone off and left him.
And now we must part, gentle reader, and patient too, if thou hast
followed us thus far.
Fairly at the end of our ill-spun yarn, it now remains for us to thank
you for the great patience that has carried you through to these lines.
We have endeavored in Fanny Campbell to portray a heroine who should not
be like every other the fancy has created; we have strove to make
her such an one as should elicit the reader’s interest, and have yet
endeavored in the picture not to overstep the modest bounds of nature.
We have designed to show that among the lower classes of society, there
is more of the germ of true intellect and courage, nobleness of purpose,
and strength of will than may be found among the pampered and wealthy
children of fortune. We have given you but modest and true men in
William Lovell and Jack Herbert. In Terrence Moony we have only shown
the impetuous generosity and warmth of affection that characterize his
countrymen. In the pardoned Englishman we have drawn a picture that we
would be glad to hold up before the advocates of Capital Punishment; nor
have we overdrawn the picture here; it is a faithful one so far as the
human heart can be judged of by past and long experience.
In Captain Burnet we have given form to a spirit, the genuineness of
which We all can bear testimony to. A warm, ardent, thoughtless man
becomes entirely changed in heart and purpose by the strange power of
love. We have seen in him the contradictions of which those who are
exercised by it will be at one time rash and headstrong, at another,
calm and repentant. Such men will make great naval heroes, but bad
fathers of families.
And now again, farewell, dear reader, dear reader, and thus ends our
tale of Fanny Campbell, the Female Pirate Captain.
THE END.