Now, hoist the anchor, mates--and let the sails
Give their broad bosom to the buxom wind,
Like lass that woos a lover.
--ANONYMOUS.
The presence of the Countess dispelled the superstitious feeling, which,
for an instant, had encroached on Julian’s imagination, and compelled
him to give attention to the matters of ordinary life. “Here are your
credentials,” she said, giving him a small packet, carefully packed
up in a sealskin cover; “you had better not open them till you come
to London. You must not be surprised to find that there are one or two
addressed to men of my own persuasion. These, for all our sakes, you
will observe caution in delivering.”
“I go your messenger, madam,” said Peveril; “and whatever you desire
me to charge myself with, of that I undertake the care. Yet allow me to
doubt whether an intercourse with Catholics will at this moment forward
the purposes of my mission.”
“You have caught the general suspicion of this wicked sect already,”
said the Countess, smiling, “and are the fitter to go amongst Englishmen
in their present mood. But, my cautious friend, these letters are so
addressed, and the persons to whom they are addressed so disguised,
that you will run no danger in conversing with them. Without their aid,
indeed, you will not be able to obtain the accurate information you go
in search of. None can tell so exactly how the wind sets, as the pilot
whose vessel is exposed to the storm. Besides, though you Protestants
deny our priesthood the harmlessness of the dove, you are ready enough
to allow us a full share of the wisdom of the serpent; in plain terms,
their means of information are extensive, and they are not deficient in
the power of applying it. I therefore wish you to have the benefit of
their intelligence and advice, if possible.”
“Whatever you impose upon me as a part of my duty, madam, rely on its
being discharged punctually,” answered Peveril. “And, now, as there is
little use in deferring the execution of a purpose when once fixed, let
me know your ladyship’s wishes concerning my departure.”
“It must be sudden and secret,” said the Countess; “the island is full
of spies; and I would not wish that any of them should have notice that
an envoy of mine was about to leave Man for London. Can you be ready to
go on board to-morrow?”
“To-night--this instant if you will,” said Julian,--“my little
preparations are complete.”
“Be ready, then, in your chamber, at two hours after midnight. I will
send one to summon you, for our secret must be communicated, for the
present, to as few as possible. A foreign sloop is engaged to carry you
over; then make the best of your way to London, by Martindale Castle, or
otherwise, as you find most advisable. When it is necessary to
announce your absence, I will say you are gone to see your parents. But
stay--your journey will be on horseback, of course, from Whitehaven.
You have bills of exchange, it is true; but are you provided with ready
money to furnish yourself with a good horse?”
“I am sufficiently rich, madam,” answered Julian; “and good nags are
plenty in Cumberland. There are those among them who know how to come by
them good and cheap.”
“Trust not to that,” said the Countess. “Here is what will purchase for
you the best horse on the Borders.--Can you be simple enough to refuse
it?” she added, as she pressed on him a heavy purse, which he saw
himself obliged to accept.
“A good horse, Julian,” continued the Countess, “and a good sword, next
to a good heart and head, are the accomplishments of a cavalier.”
“I kiss your hands, then, madam,” said Peveril, “and humbly beg you to
believe, that whatever may fail in my present undertaking, my purpose
to serve you, my noble kinswoman and benefactress, can at least never
swerve or falter.”
“I know it, my son, I know it; and may God forgive me if my anxiety
for your friend has sent you on dangers which should have been his!
Go--go--May saints and angels bless you! Fenella shall acquaint him that
you sup in your own apartment. So indeed will I; for to-night I should
be unable to face my son’s looks. Little will he thank me for sending
you on his errand; and there will be many to ask, whether it was like
the Lady of Latham to trust her friend’s son on the danger which should
have been braved by her own. But oh! Julian, I am now a forlorn widow,
whom sorrow has made selfish!”
“Tush, madam,” answered Peveril; “it is more unlike the Lady of Latham
to anticipate dangers which may not exist at all, and to which, if
they do indeed occur, I am less obnoxious than my noble kinsman.
Farewell!--All blessings attend you, madam. Commend me to Derby,
and make him my excuses. I shall expect a summons at two hours after
midnight.”
They took an affectionate leave of each other; the more affectionate,
indeed, on the part of the Countess, that she could not entirely
reconcile her generous mind to exposing Peveril to danger on her son’s
behalf; and Julian betook himself to his solitary apartment.
His servant soon afterwards brought him wine and refreshments; to
which, notwithstanding the various matters he had to occupy his mind, he
contrived to do reasonable justice. But when this needful occupation
was finished, his thoughts began to stream in upon him like a troubled
tide--at once recalling the past, and anticipating the future. It was in
vain that he wrapped himself in his riding cloak, and, lying down on
his bed, endeavoured to compose himself to sleep. The uncertainty of
the prospect before him--the doubt how Bridgenorth might dispose of his
daughter during his absence--the fear that the Major himself might fall
into the power of the vindictive Countess, besides a numerous train of
vague and half-formed apprehensions, agitated his blood, and rendered
slumber impossible. Alternately to recline in the old oaken easy-chair,
and listen to the dashing of the waves under the windows, mingled,
as the sound was, with the scream of the sea-birds; or traverse the
apartment with long and slow steps, pausing occasionally to look out
on the sea, slumbering under the influence of a full moon, which tipped
each wave with silver--such were the only pastimes he could invent,
until midnight had passed for one hour; the next was wasted in anxious
expectation of the summons of departure.
At length it arrived--a tap at his door was followed by a low murmur,
which made him suspect that the Countess had again employed her mute
attendant as the most secure minister of her pleasure on this occasion.
He felt something like impropriety in this selection; and it was with
a feeling of impatience alien to the natural generosity of his temper,
that, when he opened the door, he beheld the dumb maiden standing before
him. The lamp which he held in his hand showed his features distinctly,
and probably made Fenella aware of the expression which animated them.
She cast her large dark eyes mournfully on the ground; and, without
again looking him in the face, made him a signal to follow her. He
delayed no longer than was necessary to secure his pistols in his belt,
wrap his cloak closer around him, and take his small portmanteau under
his arm. Thus accoutred, he followed her out of the Keep, or inhabited
part of the Castle, by a series of obscure passages leading to a postern
gate, which she unlocked with a key, selected from a bundle which she
carried at her girdle.
They now stood in the castle-yard, in the open moonlight, which
glimmered white and ghastly on the variety of strange and ruinous
objects to which we have formerly alluded, and which gave the scene
rather the appearance of some ancient cemetery, than of the interior of
a fortification. The round and elevated tower--the ancient mount, with
its quadrangular sides facing the ruinous edifices which once boasted
the name of Cathedral--seemed of yet more antique and anomalous form,
when seen by the pale light which now displayed them. To one of these
churches Fenella took the direct course, and was followed by Julian;
although he at once divined, and was superstitious enough to dislike,
the path which she was about to adopt. It was by a secret passage
through this church that in former times the guard-room of the garrison,
situated at the lower and external defences, communicated with the Keep
of the Castle; and through this passage were the keys of the Castle
every night carried to the Governor’s apartment, so soon as the gates
were locked, and the watch set. The custom was given up in James the
First’s time, and the passage abandoned, on account of the well-known
legend of the _Mauthe Dog_--a fiend, or demon, in the shape of a large,
shaggy, black mastiff, by which the church was said to be haunted.
It was devoutly believed, that in former times this spectre became so
familiar with mankind, as to appear nightly in the guard-room, issuing
from the passage which we have mentioned at night, and retiring to it at
daybreak. The soldiers became partly familiarised to its presence; yet
not so much so as to use any licence of language while the apparition
was visible; until one fellow, rendered daring by intoxication, swore
he would know whether it was dog or devil, and, with his drawn sword,
followed the spectre when it retreated by the usual passage. The man
returned in a few minutes, sobered by terror, his mouth gaping, and his
hair standing on end, under which horror he died; but, unhappily for
the lovers of the marvellous, altogether unable to disclose the horrors
which he had seen. Under the evil repute arising from this tale of
wonder, the guard-room was abandoned, and a new one constructed. In like
manner, the guards after that period held another and more circuitous
communication with the Governor or Seneschal of the Castle; and that
which lay through the ruinous church was entirely abandoned.
In defiance of the legendary terrors which tradition had attached to
the original communication, Fenella, followed by Peveril, now boldly
traversed the ruinous vaults through which it lay--sometimes only guided
over heaps of ruins by the precarious light of the lamp borne by the
dumb maiden--sometimes having the advantage of a gleam of moonlight,
darting into the dreary abyss through the shafted windows, or through
breaches made by time. As the path was by no means a straight one,
Peveril could not but admire the intimate acquaintance with the mazes
which his singular companion displayed, as well as the boldness with
which she traversed them. He himself was not so utterly void of
the prejudices of the times, but that he contemplated, with some
apprehension, the possibility of their intruding on the lair of the
phantom hound, of which he had heard so often; and in every remote sight
of the breeze among the ruins, he thought he heard him baying at the
mortal footsteps which disturbed his gloomy realm. No such terrors,
however, interrupted their journey; and in the course of a few minutes,
they attained the deserted and now ruinous guard-house. The broken walls
of the little edifice served to conceal them from the sentinels, one of
whom was keeping a drowsy watch at the lower gate of the Castle; whilst
another, seated on the stone steps which communicated with the parapet
of the bounding and exterior wall, was slumbering, in full security,
with his musket peacefully grounded by his side. Fenella made a sign to
Peveril to move with silence and caution, and then showed him, to his
surprise, from the window of the deserted guard-room, a boat, for it was
now high water, with four rowers, lurking under the cliff on which the
castle was built; and made him farther sensible that he was to have
access to it by a ladder of considerable height placed at the window of
the ruin.
Julian was both displeased and alarmed by the security and carelessness
of the sentinels, who had suffered such preparations to be made without
observation or alarm given; and he hesitated whether he should not call
the officer of the guard, upbraid him with negligence, and show him
how easily Holm-Peel, in spite of its natural strength, and although
reported impregnable, might be surprised by a few resolute men. Fenella
seemed to guess his thoughts with that extreme acuteness of observation
which her deprivations had occasioned her acquiring. She laid one hand
on his arm, and a finger of the other on her own lips, as if to enjoin
forbearance; and Julian, knowing that she acted by the direct authority
of the Countess, obeyed her accordingly; but with the internal
resolution to lose no time in communicating his sentiments to the Earl,
concerning the danger to which the Castle was exposed on this point.
In the meantime, he descended the ladder with some precaution, for the
steps were unequal, broken, wet, and slippery; and having placed himself
in the stern of the boat, made a signal to the men to push off, and
turned to take farewell of his guide. To his utter astonishment, Fenella
rather slid down, than descended regularly, the perilous ladder, and,
the boat being already pushed off, made a spring from the last step of
it with incredible agility, and seated herself beside Peveril, ere he
could express either remonstrance or surprise. He commanded the men once
more to pull in to the precarious landing-place; and throwing into his
countenance a part of the displeasure which he really felt, endeavoured
to make her comprehend the necessity of returning to her mistress.
Fenella folded her arms, and looked at him with a haughty smile, which
completely expressed the determination of her purpose. Peveril was
extremely embarrassed; he was afraid of offending the Countess, and
interfering with her plan, by giving alarm, which otherwise he was much
tempted to have done. On Fenella, it was evident, no species of argument
which he could employ was likely to make the least impression; and the
question remained, how, if she went on with him, he was to rid himself
of so singular and inconvenient a companion, and provide, at the same
time, sufficiently for her personal security.
The boatmen brought the matter to a decision; for, after lying on their
oars for a minute, and whispering among themselves in Low Dutch or
German, they began to pull stoutly, and were soon at some distance from
the Castle. The possibility of the sentinels sending a musket-ball, or
even a cannon-shot, after them, was one of the contingencies which gave
Peveril momentary anxiety; but they left the fortress, as they must have
approached it, unnoticed, or at least unchallenged--a carelessness on
the part of the garrison, which, notwithstanding that the oars were
muffled, and that the men spoke little, and in whispers, argued, in
Peveril’s opinion, great negligence on the part of the sentinels. When
they were a little way from the Castle, the men began to row briskly
towards a small vessel which lay at some distance. Peveril had, in
the meantime, leisure to remark, that the boatmen spoke to each other
doubtfully, and bent anxious looks on Fenella, as if uncertain whether
they had acted properly in bringing her off.
After about a quarter of an hour’s rowing, they reached the little
sloop, where Peveril was received by the skipper, or captain, on the
quarter-deck, with an offer of spirits or refreshments. A word or two
among the seamen withdrew the captain from his hospitable cares, and he
flew to the ship’s side, apparently to prevent Fenella from entering
the vessel. The men and he talked eagerly in Dutch, looking anxiously at
Fenella as they spoke together; and Peveril hoped the result would
be, that the poor woman should be sent ashore again. But she
baffled whatever opposition could be offered to her; and when the
accommodation-ladder, as it is called, was withdrawn, she snatched the
end of a rope, and climbed on board with the dexterity of a sailor,
leaving them no means of preventing her entrance, save by actual
violence, to which apparently they did not choose to have recourse. Once
on deck, she took the captain by the sleeve, and led him to the head
of the vessel, where they seemed to hold intercourse in a manner
intelligible to both.
Peveril soon forgot the presence of the mute, as he began to muse upon
his own situation, and the probability that he was separated for some
considerable time from the object of his affections. “Constancy,” he
repeated to himself,--“Constancy.” And, as if in coincidence with the
theme of his reflections, he fixed his eyes on the polar star, which
that night twinkled with more than ordinary brilliancy. Emblem of pure
passion and steady purpose--the thoughts which arose as he viewed its
clear and unchanging light, were disinterested and noble. To seek
his country’s welfare, and secure the blessings of domestic peace--to
discharge a bold and perilous duty to his friend and patron--to regard
his passion for Alice Bridgenorth, as the loadstar which was to guide
him to noble deeds--were the resolutions which thronged upon his mind,
and which exalted his spirits to that state of romantic melancholy,
which perhaps is ill exchanged even for feelings of joyful rapture.
He was recalled from those contemplations by something which nestled
itself softly and closely to his side--a woman’s sigh sounded so near
him, as to disturb his reverie; and as he turned his head, he saw
Fenella seated beside him, with her eyes fixed on the same star which
had just occupied his own. His first emotion was that of displeasure;
but it was impossible to persevere in it towards a being so helpless
in many respects, so interesting in others; whose large dark eyes were
filled with dew, which glistened in the moonlight; and the source of
whose emotions seemed to be in a partiality which might well claim
indulgence, at least from him who was the object of it. At the same
time, Julian resolved to seize the present opportunity, for such
expostulations with Fenella on the strangeness of her conduct, as the
poor maiden might be able to comprehend. He took her hand with great
kindness, but at the same time with much gravity, pointed to the boat,
and to the Castle, whose towers and extended walls were now scarce
visible in the distance; and thus intimated to her the necessity of
her return to Holm-Peel. She looked down, and shook her head, as if
negativing his proposal with obstinate decision. Julian renewed his
expostulation by look and gesture--pointed to his own heart, to intimate
the Countess--and bent his brows, to show the displeasure which she must
entertain. To all which the maiden only answered by her tears.
At length, as if driven to explanation by his continued remonstrances,
she suddenly seized him by the arm, to arrest his attention--cast
her eye hastily around, as if to see whether she was watched by
any one--then drew the other hand, edge-wise, across her slender
throat--pointed to the boat, and to the Castle, and nodded.
On this series of signs, Peveril could put no interpretation, excepting
that he was menaced with some personal danger, from which Fenella
seemed to conceive that her presence was a protection. Whatever was her
meaning, her purpose seemed unalterably adopted; at least it was plain
he had no power to shake it. He must therefore wait till the end of
their short voyage, to disembarrass himself of his companion; and, in
the meanwhile, acting on the idea of her having harboured a misplaced
attachment to him, he thought he should best consult her interest,
and his own character, in keeping at as great a distance from her as
circumstances admitted. With this purpose, he made the sign she used
for going to sleep, by leaning his head on his palm; and having thus
recommended to her to go to rest, he himself desired to be conducted to
his berth.
The captain readily showed him a hammock, in the after-cabin, into which
he threw himself, to seek that repose which the exercise and agitation
of the preceding day, as well as the lateness of the hour, made him
now feel desirable. Sleep, deep and heavy, sunk down on him in a few
minutes, but it did not endure long. In his sleep he was disturbed by
female cries; and at length, as he thought, distinctly heard the voice
of Alice Bridgenorth call on his name.
He awoke, and starting up to quit his bed, became sensible, from the
motion of the vessel, and the swinging of the hammock, that his dream
had deceived him. He was still startled by its extreme vivacity and
liveliness. “Julian Peveril, help! Julian Peveril!” The sounds still
rung in his ears--the accents were those of Alice--and he could scarce
persuade himself that his imagination had deceived him. Could she be in
the same vessel? The thought was not altogether inconsistent with her
father’s character, and the intrigues in which he was engaged; but
then, if so, to what peril was she exposed, that she invoked his name so
loudly?
Determined to make instant inquiry, he jumped out of his hammock,
half-dressed as he was, and stumbling about the little cabin, which was
as dark as pitch, at length, with considerable difficulty, reached
the door. The door, however, he was altogether unable to open; and was
obliged to call loudly to the watch upon deck. The skipper, or captain,
as he was called, being the only person aboard who could speak English,
answered to the summons, and replied to Peveril’s demand, what noise
that was?--that a boat was going off with the young woman--that she
whimpered a little as she left the vessel--and “dat vaas all.”
His dream was thus fully explained. Fancy had caught up the inarticulate
and vehement cries with which Fenella was wont to express resistance or
displeasure--had coined them into language, and given them the accents
of Alice Bridgenorth. Our imagination plays wilder tricks with us almost
every night.
The captain now undid the door, and appeared with a lantern; without the
aid of which Peveril could scarce have regained his couch, where he
now slumbered secure and sound, until day was far advanced, and the
invitation of the captain called him up to breakfast.