The night was very dark, and, blowing a gale of wind. The blast was
not, indeed, directly upon the shore at the point of the coast nearest
to Brandon; but about seven miles to the eastward, the line of the
land took a bend towards the south, forming a low shingly beach, with
a spit of sand running out into the sea, for full half a mile beyond
the southernmost point of the cliffs, and against this shingly beach
the gale blew hard and direct. The distance from Brandon house to the
sea, in a straight line, was less than two miles; but Captain
M----, followed by five or six servants, took his way across the
country towards that part of the coast on which he judged the ship
must have stranded. Riding on rapidly, he arrived, in about three
quarters of an hour, at a village some nine miles from Brandon; and
calling at one or two of the houses, he found that all the men, warned
by the signals of distress, had gone down to the shore to give
assistance. He learned, too, some farther particulars of the disaster
which had occurred, and the exact spot where it had taken place.
Pushing on without farther pause, then, he rode through the little
village, where, as may be remembered, Edgar Adelon obtained his first
interview with Martin Oldkirk; and issuing forth at the farther end,
he soon after came upon the sea-shore, where a lighted tar-barrel and
several links shed a red glare over a terrible scene, which was also,
from time to time, partially illuminated by glimpses of the moon, as
the gray clouds, hurrying rapidly past, left her bright face visible
for a moment, and then concealed it again beneath their swarthy veil.
A tall and beautiful vessel appeared aground at the distance of less
than a hundred yards from the beach. The masts were all still
standing, and the fine tracery of the rigging, partially seen by the
lights upon the shore, was now and then rendered completely visible
when the moonlight broke forth behind for a moment, and brightened the
stormy sky. Around the burning tar-barrel were several groups of men,
with some women and children; and farther down upon the beach, even
amidst the spray and foam, were others, one of whom held up a link,
half extinguished by the dashing waves. An awful surf was falling in
thunder upon the shore; and each mountain wave, as it rolled up,
struck the unfortunate vessel on the stern and windward side, making a
clear breach over her as she heeled towards the beach. When the moon
was hidden, only the bow and the fore-mast could be seen by the lights
on the shore, the rest of the ship being enveloped in darkness, except
where the white surf rushed pouring over the hull, and sprang
glittering up amongst the cordage; but when the momentary moon shone
out, the shrouds, the tops, and many parts of the rigging, were seen
loaded with human beings, striving in agony to postpone the fate which
seemed ready to fall upon them. There were shrieks and cries for help,
and loud shouts of direction and command; but all were so mingled with
the noise of the rushing wind, and the thunder of the billows upon the
shore, that everything was indistinct, rising in one loud screaming
roar to the spot at which the young officer had arrived.
Drawing in his horse, he paused to gaze for a moment and consider what
was expedient to be done; and at the same moment he perceived some of
the men, with that gallant and intrepid daring which characterises the
boatmen on the English coast, endeavouring to launch a boat a little
to windward of the stranded ship. With a loud cheer they pushed her
down into the water as a wave receded, and with a tremendous effort
were shoving her off, when again the billows returned with a furious
sweep, capsized her in a moment, and nothing was seen for several
seconds but the figures of the men struggling in the surf, and the
black hull of the boat surrounded by the whirling eddies of the
retiring wave. For a moment it seemed as if several of the gallant
fellows would be lost; but some clung to the boat, others scrambled
back to the shore, and one, who was carried out, striking hard for
life, was caught by another wave, and dashed back again, bleeding and
almost senseless, on the beach.
Springing to the ground with several of the servants, Captain
M---- hurried down to the principal group upon the beach, and put one
or two questions, the import of which not being clearly seen at first
by the men he addressed, they answered somewhat sullenly.
"My good sir," he said, speaking to a large, square-built man of the
middle age, who seemed to be one of the principal boatmen, "I have
been accustomed to these things, and aided to save many lives on a
worse coast than this. The same means may prove effectual here, but we
must have recourse to them immediately, or the ship will be a complete
wreck."
"In two hours there won't be one of her timbers together," answered
the man, dully.
"Then the more need to get the people off her at once," said Captain
M----.
"Ay, if you can do it," said the boatman, turning away.
"Stay a moment," cried the young officer, in a tone of command. "Has
any one got a gun with a large bore, and a good long hank of stout but
thin cord?"
The object seemed to strike the man instantly, and turning sharply
round, he laid his broad hand upon the young officer's shoulder,
exclaiming, with an oath, "That's a good thought! There's my large
duck-gun will do capitally; and as for a cord, you can't have anything
better than one of our fish-lines. It's both light and strong."
All was changed in a moment; the efforts of the crowd were turned in a
different direction; hope seemed to revive; a number of fishing-lines
were brought forth, the heavy gun was placed in Captain M----'s hands,
powder was procured, a bullet pierced and attached to one end of the
strong cord, while the other end was fastened tightly to a thick rope.
Every one aided; and Captain M---- having charged the piece, advanced
as far as he could down to the beach, so that the waves, as they
flowed up, reached his knees, and then prepared to fire. Before he did
so, however, he turned to those behind him, saying, "We shall have to
try several times before we succeed, so do not be disappointed if the
first shot fails." Then elevating the gun, he pulled the trigger; in
the hope that the bullet would carry the line over the rigging of the
ship. As he had foreseen, however, the first attempt was unsuccessful.
The sudden explosion of the powder broke the line before the bullet
had got a foot from the mouth of the gun.
"We must have less powder and a smaller ball;" said the young officer.
"Some one cut a piece out of my glove here to wrap it in. Perhaps we
shall succeed better this time."
Nor was he disappointed; the ball carried the line clear over the
ship, between the main and fore masts, and fell into the sea some way
beyond. The unhappy voyagers seemed to have comprehended the efforts
made for their safety, and had watched with eager eyes and in profound
silence everything that was done. Not a word, not a cry was uttered
from the moment the first shot was fired; and even when the second and
more successful attempt was made, they were all silent still, for the
line was so fine they did not perceive that the efforts of their
friends on shore had been successful till the gestures of the crowd,
rather than the voice of one of the boatmen, speaking through a
trumpet, drew the attention of a sailor to the spot where the line had
fallen. The directions were then given to run it through a pulley, and
gently haul up the rope, and this being accomplished, the rope was
made fast at both ends, and a means of communication, however frail,
established with the shore.
A shout of joy burst forth from the people of the ship, and a loud
cheer answered it from the beach.
There were many difficulties still to be overcome, however; for as the
ship rocked to and fro when the waves struck her, there was a great
chance of the rope snapping, especially if burdened with the weight of
a man; but the son of one of the boatmen, a lad of about thirteen
years of age, volunteered to try the dangerous path, with a light
hawser made fast round his middle. Slowly and with difficulty he
pursued his way, holding on both by hands and feet; but his perilous
task was at length accomplished, and as soon as the hawser was firmly
fixed, he returned to the shore, bringing back the end of the rope
first sent, which had been passed through a pulley, so as to play
easily.
Several of the men then came over from the ship without much
difficulty; but this method was so slow, that Captain M---- proposed
another plan, which was immediately adopted when it was found that
there were a number of women and children in the bark. One of the
sails of a small lugger was detached from the yard, and the corners
being gathered together and made quite secure, it was slung upon the
hawser, and connected with the rope passed through the pulley. It was
thus easily moved backwards and forwards between the ship and the
shore. Two, and sometimes three people, were brought to land at once;
and joy and satisfaction displayed itself in every form and shape
amongst those who were rescued from the grave.
During the whole time that these operations had been proceeding, two
men were seen standing together in the fore-top, who, though they had
busied themselves and assisted greatly in fastening the hawser and in
passing the ropes, showed no anxiety to save themselves; aiding,
indeed, to put the women and children into the sail, but remaining
perfectly calm and motionless while the others passed to the shore.
There was something in their manner and appearance which struck
Captain M---- not a little, and advancing to one of the persons who
had first come over, he inquired who those two persons were.
"They are passengers from Sidney, sir," replied the man; "perfect
gentlemen both of them, and two brave fellows as ever lived; for if it
had not been for them, we should have all lost heart long ago."
While he was speaking, some of the men who remained on board seemed by
their gestures to urge the two gentlemen to go over; and the shorter
of the two, taking a child in his arms from one of the sailors--it was
the only child left--stepped into the sail, and holding fast by the
rope above, was speedily drawn to land. A woman, who had been brought
across some time before, with two other children, now rushed almost
down into the sea when this new freight approached, as if afraid the
man would drop the child. But the young gentleman--for he seemed very
young, and was evidently of a superior class--placed the little boy
safely in her arms, saying, "He is quite safe and warm."
The woman prayed God to bless him; but at the same moment his hand was
taken by Captain M----, and shaken heartily, while one of the servants
exclaimed, "Mr. Adelon!--hurrah! hurrah!" and half the people on the
beach took up the cry, and waved their hats joyfully. But Captain
M---- and Edgar Adelon were speaking together eagerly and in a low
voice, while the latter pointed once or twice to the fore-top of the
stranded vessel, as if explaining to his friend that some one whom
they both knew was there. Several other persons then landed, so that
the number on the shore amounted to nearly sixty, besides the
inhabitants of the neighbouring huts and villages. Amongst the last
who appeared was Edward Dudley, and he was warmly greeted by Captain
M----, though his appearance now, it must be remarked, notwithstanding
his being somewhat worn and tempest-tossed, was very different from
that of the Nameless Fisherman by the Nameless Lake.
The servants of Sir Arthur Adelon were standing at some distance while
their young master spoke with Captain M----; and Dudley, taking the
arm of the latter, walked slowly away with him up the beach, and out
of the light of the fire; but Edgar turned to speak a few minutes to
his fellow-travellers, giving kind and liberal orders for their
comfort and accommodation.
"I do not wish," said Dudley, addressing Captain M----, "to be
recognised just at present. I will choose my own time and my own
manner; and you may, doubtless, divine the reasons, as I know you have
been made acquainted with a considerable portion of my history."
"I can easily conceive," replied Captain M----, "that you have a great
many painful and unpleasant things to go through, which you would
desire to do in your own way; but I congratulate you most sincerely,
Mr. Dudley, not alone upon your salvation this night, but upon your
restoration to your country and your friends, your property and your
reputation. I trust this storm will be the last you will have to
encounter."
"God only knows!" replied Dudley; "but for the future, my dear sir, I
shall be less apt than in earlier years to give way either to hope or
to despair."
"Hope is the best of the two," replied the young officer, in a lighter
tone. "It comes from heaven, and is an ingredient, more or less, in
everything that is good, and high, and holy. The other comes from
below, leading to all that is evil, and dark, and disastrous. Choose
hope, then, my good friend. But here comes some one quickly after us.
I trust none of the men are much injured?"
"None of the survivors," answered Dudley, gravely; "but twenty or
thirty perished when the ship first struck."
"Mr. Adelon sent me, sir," said a rough, but not unpleasant voice, "to
show one of you two gentlemen the way to my cottage. It is the
gentleman who was on the wreck," he continued, looking at Dudley, who
said, in reply, that he was willing to go wherever the other should
lead.
"Then I will leave you now," said Captain M----, in a low voice, "and
your secret is perfectly safe with me, depend upon it; but I trust
that we shall meet again before I depart for London, and if not here,
in the great city."
"I will certainly find you out," replied Dudley, "for the scene and
the circumstances in which we first met are never to be obliterated
from memory, nor the kindness with which you soothed and relieved, at
a moment when I thought there was none to help."
They then parted; and after taking a few steps forward with the stout,
broad-set countryman who had been sent up to him, Dudley inquired how
far they were from Brandon.
"Hard upon eleven miles, sir," replied the man.
"Then the place where we run ashore must be what they call Beachrock
Spit, I suppose?" rejoined Dudley.
"Just so, sir," said the man; "the rock that names it is about two
miles farther on, t'other side of the spit, as we call it; but the
village is up hard by, not above a quarter of a mile inland."
"Do you know a man of the name of Martin Oldkirk?" asked Dudley, after
advancing a few paces farther. "He must live in that village, I
think."
"Yes, I know him, sir," answered the countryman, abruptly. "What do
you want with him?"
"I want some conversation with him," answered Dudley. "I bring him
some news of distant friends, and had, indeed, brought him a letter;
but that, with all the rest of my baggage, is in the unfortunate ship,
which will be a total wreck before to-morrow."
"I'm sorry for that, sir," said his companion; "for, to tell you the
truth, I am Martin Oldkirk myself, so you may speak away as fast as
you please."
"By and bye will do," answered Dudley, "for I shall be very glad,
Oldkirk, if you can let me lodge in your cottage for a night or two.
At all events, you will allow me to dry my clothes there, and while
that is doing, we can talk of other things."
"I should be very happy to lodge you, sir," replied the man, in a
civil tone; "but, Lord bless you, sir! it is not fit for such as you;
and besides, there's but one bed and a bare bedstead in the place."
"The bare bedstead will do well enough for me," replied Dudley, "at
least for the present; and to-morrow, perhaps, you will be able to
procure me something else. Doubtless to-night every house and every
bed in the place will have more than its fair share of occupants."
"We may be quite sure of that," answered Martin Oldkirk; "but I can
get you some good hay and a clean pair of sheets, and that, with
plenty of coats and things to keep you warm, will be better lodging
than where you were like to have lodged an hour or two ago."
"That is true," answered Dudley; "and I should be a fool to grumble.
You know a certain Mr. Norries, Oldkirk, do you not?"
"That I do," cried the man, with a start. "Poor gentleman, I am sorry
for him! He deserved better, but he might have got worse; and one
thing will always make his heart light. He never betrayed any one,
though he might have got off himself if he had peached against others.
But he always was an upright man, and readier to hurt himself than any
one else. But I can't help thinking of him often, and how hard it is
that he should be out there working like a galley-slave, when he only
wished to free his country. I dare say he's very sad-like, isn't he,
sir? For I take it, you come from that place, don't you?"
"Make your mind easy about his fate," answered Dudley, "for he was
well and happy when I saw him, And would not, I believe, come back to
England, even if they would let him. He is under no restraint either,
except that he cannot return from banishment."
"Ay, they will find out what a man they've lost," answered Oldkirk. "I
should have liked to have seen his hand-writing once again, however;
but here we are just at the cottage, and I will blow you up a fire in
a minute, and then run and get some things that you may want. A glass
of brandy-and-water wouldn't be amiss, nor against Father Mathew
either; for I am quite sure that the doctor would order it for you,
after having gone through such a business."
"I'm accustomed to privation in storm and tempest," answered Dudley,
entering the cottage; "so do not give yourself much trouble about
provisions, my good friend," But, for some reason or another, Martin
Oldkirk, though as we have seen, not given at all times to very
intense courtesy, was determined to do the best he could to make his
guest comfortable; and having blown the smouldering embers of his fire
into a blaze, and piled on a quantity of mingled coal and wood, he
went out again upon his hospitable errand.
Dudley took off his coat and waistcoat to dry them at the fire, and
drawing a pocket-book from the pocket of the former, examined the
papers which it contained carefully, to ascertain that they had not
been injured by the sea-water, the spray of the waves having dashed
over him for several hours. The leathern cover of the book was
completely wet, but the contents were safe enough; and after seeing
that some documents, apparently official, were all uninjured, he read
over by a candle, which his host had lighted, some memoranda written
in a clear clerk-like hand.
"Ay, if he will answer me," he said, commenting as he read; "but I
doubt the fact. It is most unfortunate the loss of my baggage. It
cannot be helped, however; and after all, it is not vengeance I seek.
Nevertheless, the power to thwart this man's evil schemes were
something;" and sitting down by the fire-side, he fell into thoughts
from which he was roused, in about twenty minutes, by the sudden
lifting of the latch of the door, and the entrance of Edgar Adelon
"and Captain M----.
"They are all safe," said Edgar. "And now, what will you do, Dudley? I
shall ride on to Brandon at once."
"And I will remain here, Edgar," replied the other, "if you are quite
sure that none of the servants recognised me. I remembered the
butler's face at once."
"I do not believe that any one saw you," replied Edgar; "and I suppose
the best plan will be to act in the manner that was previously
arranged; for our shipwreck here," he added, with a smile, "has merely
landed us a hundred miles nearer Brandon."
"The only thing," replied Dudley, "that is necessary, is not to
mention to any one my return to England, till I have time to arrange
all my plans; nor, indeed, to say that you have met with me at all, or
heard anything concerning me."
"But, Eda," said the young gentleman; "what to her, Dudley?"
"Oh! tell her, of course," replied his friend. "I would not keep her
in unnecessary suspense for a moment; and she will see the necessity
of her acting differently towards others."
A slight smile came upon the lip of Captain M---- as he heard their
conversation. "I do not know whether you are aware," he said, "that
there are a good many guests at Brandon: reputed suitors of the young
lady. Indeed, it is more like the hall of Ulysses during his absence
than anything else. But I suppose," he continued, with a gay glance
towards Dudley, "the wandering king of Ithaca will some day soon
return to claim his own, and drive these daring mortals from the
gates." His words did not cheer Dudley, for there were still too many
difficulties in his path, too many painful circumstances in his
situation, for anything like gay hope to brighten the cloudy aspect of
his fate; and as he did not himself reply, Edgar reverted to what they
had been speaking of before, and said, "Well, I will ride on then at
once, and I suppose I shall hear from you as to farther proceedings."
"Oh! yes; I shall easily find a messenger," replied Dudley; and once
more shaking hands warmly with Captain M----, he saw him and his
companion depart.
Little delay was made upon the road by Captain M---- and Edgar Adelon,
although the latter had a strong inclination to choose the right-hand
road, where it parted from the high-way to Barhampton, leading direct
to Clive Grange. He refrained, however, remembering that his father
must know of the wreck, and might hear that he was on board. On
arriving at Brandon House, the tranquil aspect of all things, and the
servant's reply that Sir Arthur was playing at piquet, showed him that
no great anxiety on his account had found its way into his father's
bosom; and consequently proceeding to the library himself, he
requested Captain M---- to send Eda to him, as we have seen he did.
The moment she appeared he took her in his arms and kissed her with
fraternal affection, saying, "I have just escaped death, dearest Eda,
and I wanted to see you before I see any one else, for I have good
news for you. Dudley is well, is here in England, and has received a
full pardon."
Eda turned very pale, pressed her hand upon her heart, and grasped the
arm of a chair for support. "Stay, stay, Edgar," she said, "do not
tell me too much at once. A full pardon, do you say? But still the
stain will remain upon his name."
Edgar drew back a step, and gazed at her gravely, almost sternly. "And
would that make any difference to you, Eda, when you knew him, when
you felt him, to be innocent?" he demanded.
Eda waved her hand, with a look of reproach. "None, Edgar, none!" she
answered. "You cannot suppose such a thing for a moment; but it will
make a great difference to him. I know Dudley well, and I feel sure
that these events will cast a shadow over his whole life, if his
innocence cannot be clearly established. But yet, I will not regret
it," she cried, rising with, a brighter look, and laying her hand upon
her cousin's arm. "It will give me the means, dear Edgar, of proving
to him what devotion and attachment a woman's heart is capable of. The
vision of my young love, when first he and I knew each other, now
eight years ago, will now indeed be realized. I thought then how happy
it would make me to show such a man as that, that no circumstances of
fortune, no inducements, no unworthy obstacles, could affect in the
slightest degree my attachment, when once given upon just and
reasonable grounds. Now I can prove it to him all, and I am ready to
prove it."
"I am sorry, dear girl, to dispel your visions of devotion," answered
Edgar, gaily; "but here, though you can make him as happy as man need
be, by giving him your fair hand and your true heart, you cannot cheer
him under the doubt and suspicion of the world, for from that he is
now quite cleared. His pardon was not granted till his innocence was
proved beyond a doubt, by the acknowledgment of him who did the deed
for which he has been so great a sufferer; and be assured that he will
not rest satisfied until, by act of parliament, his condemnation is
reversed. I will tell you more hereafter, dear cousin; and now I will
go and see if I can find fitter clothes to appear in this smart house;
for during the last year and a half I have been much more accustomed
to sit in ships' cabins, or to range wild woods, than to take my place
in a gay drawing-room. But remember, Eda, not one word of Dudley's
return nor of his pardon. There is much to be done and thought of."
Eda would fain have had some explanations regarding the wreck of the
vessel which brought her cousin over, but Edgar answered gaily, "I
will tell all that to the assembled multitude in the drawing-room;"
and then he, in turn, asked questions about Clive Grange, and its
inhabitants; but Eda replied in the same tone in which he had spoken,
"I will tell you all that to-morrow, Edgar. You cannot see Helen
to-night, nor, indeed, to-morrow either, for she and Mr. Clive are
both absent, I find, and do not return till the end of the week." With
that they parted.