Chapter V: Part 5

During this incident no attention had been paid to the wreck, though the crew had set up a yell of despair on seeing us leave them. Signals and shouts were still repeated, and a voice, louder in agony than the rest, implored our help for the love of the blessed Virgin, and offered riches and absolution to the whole ship’s company if they would but come back. The captain was pacing fore and aft without appearing to mind them, when, as if struck with some sudden thought, he lifted his glass to his eye--seemed to hesitate--walked on--and then, all at once changing his mind, he ordered the vessel again before the wind.

On speaking the wreck, she proved to be a Spanish felucca from the island of Cuba, bound for Curaçoa, on the coast of the Curaccas. As all the boats had been lost in the storm, the people could not leave their vessel, which had sprung a leak badly and was sinking fast; so our captain lowered and manned our jolly-boat, and went off to them.

After an absence of a couple of hours he returned with the passengers, consisting of an elderly person in the garb of a Catholic priest, a sick gentleman, a young lady, apparently daughter of the latter, and a female servant. With the utmost difficulty, and writhing under some excruciating pain, the invalid was got on board, and carried down to the cabin, where he was laid on a bed on the floor. To the tender of my professional services the suffering man returned his thanks, and would have declined them, expressing his conviction of being past human aid, but the young lady, eagerly catching at even a remote hope of success, implored him with tears to accept my offer. On examination I found his fears were but too well grounded. In his endeavours to assist the crew during the gale he had been standing near the mast, part of which, or the rigging, having fallen on him, had dislocated several of his ribs and injured his spine beyond remedy. All that could now be done was to afford a little temporary relief from pain, which I did; and, leaving him to the care of the young lady and the priest, I left the cabin.

On deck I found all bustle and confusion. The ship was still lying-to, and the boats employed in bringing the goods out of the felucca, both of which were the property of the wounded gentleman. The body of the old man, Gemmel, had been removed somewhere out of sight; no trace of blood was visible, and Captain Mahone seemed desirous to banish all recollections both of our quarrel and its origin.

As the invalid was lying in the cabin, and my state-room occupied by the lady and her female attendant, I got a temporary berth in the steerage made up for myself for the night. I had not long thrown myself down on the cot, which was only divided from the main cabin by a bulkhead, when I was awakened by the deep groans of the Spaniard. The violence of his pain had again returned, and between the spasms I heard the weeping and gentle voice of the lady soothing his agony, and trying to impart hope--prospects to him which her own hysterical sobs told plainly she did not herself feel. The priest also frequently joined, and urged him to confess. To this advice he remained silent for a while, but at length he addressed the lady:

‘The Padre says true, Isabella. Time wears apace, and I feel that I shall soon be beyond its limits and above its concerns. But ere I go I would say that which it would impart peace to my mind to disclose--I would seek to leave you at least one human being to befriend and protect you in your utter helplessness. Alas! that Diego di Montaldo’s daughter should ever be thus destitute! Go, my love! I would be alone a little while with the father.’

An agony of tears and sobs was the only return made by the poor girl, while the priest with gentle violence led her into the state-room.

‘Now,’ continued the dying man, ‘listen to me while I have strength. You have only known me as a merchant in Cuba; but such I have not always been. Mine is an ancient and noble family in Catalonia; though I unhappily disgraced it, and have been estranged from it long. I had the misfortune to have weak and indulgent parents, who idolised me as the heir of their house, and did not possess resolution enough to thwart me in any of my wishes or desires, however unreasonable. My boyhood being thus spoiled, it is no matter of wonder that my youth should have proved wild and dissolute. My companions were as dissolute as myself, and much of my time was spent in gambling and other extravagances. One evening at play I quarrelled with a young nobleman of high rank and influence. We were both of us hot and passionate, so we drew on the spot and fought, and I had the misfortune to run him through the heart, and leave him dead. Not daring to remain longer at home, I fled in disguise to Barcelona, where I procured a passage in a vessel for the Spanish Main. On our voyage we were captured by Moorish pirates; and the roving and adventurous mode of life of these bold and daring men suiting both my inclinations and finances, I agreed to make one of their number. For many months we were successful in our enterprises; we ranged the whole of these seas, and made a number of prizes, some of which were rich ships of our own colonies. In course of time we amassed such a quantity of specie as to make us unwilling to venture it in one bottom; so we agreed to hide it ashore, and divide it on our return from our next expedition. But our good fortune forsook us this time. During a calm the boats of the Guarda-costa came on us, overpowered the ship, and made all the crew, except myself and two others, prisoners. We escaped with our boat, and succeeded in gaining the island of Cuba, where both of my comrades died of fever. Subsequent events induced me to settle at St. Juan de Buenavista, where I married, and as a merchant prospered and became a rich man. But my happiness lasted not! My wife caught the yellow fever and died, leaving me only this one child. I now loathed the scene of my departed happiness, and felt all the longings of an exile to revisit my native country. For this purpose I converted all my effects into money, and am thus far on my way to the hidden treasure with which I intended to return to Spain. But the green hills of Catalonia will never more gladden mine eyes! My hopes and wishes were only for my poor girl. Holy father! you know not a parent’s feelings--its anxiety and its fears. The thoughts of leaving my child to the mercy of strangers--or, it may be, to their barbarities--is far more dreadful than the anguish of my personal sufferings. With you rests my only hope. Promise me your protection for her, and the half of all my wealth is yours.’

‘Earthly treasures,’ replied the priest, ‘avail not with one whose desires are fixed beyond the little handful of dust which perisheth. My life is devoted to the service of my Creator, and the conversion of ignorant men--men who have never heard of His salvation. I was bound on an errand of mercy, and if the heathen receive the light of truth, how much more a daughter of our most holy Church? I, therefore, on behalf of our community, accept of your offer, and swear on this blessed emblem to fulfil all your wishes to the best of my poor abilities.’

‘Enough; enough!’ said Montaldo. ‘I am satisfied. Among that archipelago of desert islands, known by the name of the Roccas, situated on the coast of the province of Venezuela, in New Grenada, there is one called the Wolf Rock; it is the longest and most northern of the group, and lies the most to seaward. At the eastern point, which runs a little way into the sea, there stands an old vanilla tree, blasted and withered, and retaining but a single solitary branch. On the eve of the Festival of St. Jago the moon will be at her full in the west. At twenty minutes past midnight she will attain to her highest altitude in the heavens, and then the shadow of the tree will be thrown due east. Watch till the branch and stem of the tree unite and form only one line of shade. Mark its extremity; for there, ten feet below the surface, the cask containing the gold is buried. The gold, father, was sinfully got; but fasts and penances have been done, masses without number have been said, and I trust that the blessed Virgin has interceded for the forgiveness of that great wickedness! I have now confessed all, and confide in your promise; and as you perform your oath, so will the blessing or curse of a dying man abide with you. I feel faint--dying. Oh! let me clasp my child once more to my heart before I----’

Here the rest of the sentence became indistinct from the death-rattle in his throat. I leaped off my cot and sprang up the hatchway, and had my foot on the top of the companion ladder when a piercing shriek from below making me quicken my steps I missed my hold, and fell against some person crouching on the outside of the cabin door. It was pitch dark, so that I could not see. ‘Who is that?’ I demanded, but there was no answer, and the person with whom I had collided rose and, without uttering a single word, softly ascended the companion-way ladder; but as he emerged into the faint light which still lingered in the horizon I fancied that I could distinguish him to be the captain.

On my entering the cabin I found the Spaniard dead, and his daughter lying in a state of insensibility by his side; while the black servant was howling and tearing her hair like one in a frenzy. The priest was entirely absorbed in his devotions, so, without disturbing him, I lifted the lady and bore her into the state-room. The greater part of the night was passed in trying to restore her to sensation. Fit after fit followed each other in such quick succession that I began to have fears for the result; but at length the hysterical paroxysm subsided, and tears coming to her relief she grew somewhat composed, when I left her in charge of her attendant.

The next day was spent in taking out the remainder of the felucca’s cargo. There seemed now no anxiety on the captain’s part to proceed on his voyage. He appeared to have forgotten the necessity, expressed on a former occasion, of being in port within a limited time. During the days that followed he was often in a state of inebriety, for the wine and spirits of the Spaniards were lavishly served out to the whole ship’s company, with whom he also mixed more, and he changed that haughtiness of bearing which had marked his conduct hitherto.

Yielding to the passionate entreaties of Isabella, the old Spaniard’s body was kept for several days, but at last she grew reconciled to her father’s remains being committed to the deep, and one evening as the sun was setting the body was brought on deck swathed in canvas, and the priest conducted a mass, and solemnly intoned the following prayer:--‘May the angels conduct thee into Paradise; may the martyrs receive thee at thy coming; and mayst thou have eternal rest with Lazarus, who was formerly poor!’ He then sprinkled the body with holy water, and continued:--‘As it hath pleased God to take the soul of our dear brother here departed unto Himself, we therefore commit his body to the deep, in the sure and certain hope of a joyful resurrection on that day when the sea shall give up its dead. Let him rest in peace!’ The Spaniards present responded ‘Amen!’ and the priest repeating ‘May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen!’ he made the sign of the Cross, the end of the grating was gently elevated, and the corpse heavily plunged into the water. The waves parted, heaving and foaming round the body as it disappeared, when, to our horror and astonishment, we beheld it the next minute slowly return to the surface deprived of the canvas covering in which it had been sewed. The dead man came up as he had gone down, in an upright position, and floated a little time with his back to the vessel, but the motion of the water turned him round by degrees till we distinctly saw his face. The head was thrown back, and the eyes wide open, and under the strong stream of light poured on them from the setting sun they seemed to glare ghastly and fearfully upwards. His grey hair, long and dishevelled, floated about his face, at times partially obscuring it; and one arm, stretched forth and agitated by the action of the waves, appeared as if in the act of threatening us. When the first burst of horror had subsided, I caught hold of Isabella to prevent her seeing the body, and was leading her off when some of our sailors whispered that it was the murdered man, old James Gemmel. The captain had been hitherto looking on with the rest without having apparently recognised him, but when the name struck his ear he shrank back and involuntarily exclaimed, ‘It’s a lie! It’s an infamous lie! Who dares to say he was murdered? But don’t let him come on board; for God’s sake keep him down, or he’ll take us with him to the bottom! Will nobody keep him down? Will nobody shove him off? Helm a-lee!’ he bawled out, waving his hand to the man at the wheel; but the man had deserted his post, eager to see what was going on; the skipper, therefore, ran to the wheel himself, and again issued his commands, ‘Let go the main-topsail weather-braces, and bring round the yard! Let them go, I say!’ His orders were speedily executed. The vessel gathered way, and we quickly shot past the body of the old man.

For several days after this we pursued our course with a favourable wind, which drove us swiftly forward on our voyage. The captain now kept himself constantly intoxicated, seldom made his appearance in the cabin, but left us altogether to the care of the steward. All subordination was now at an end; his whole time was spent among the seamen, with whom he mixed familiarly, and was addressed by them without the slightest portion of that respect or deference commonly paid to the captain of a vessel. The appearance of the men also was much altered. From the careless mirth and gaiety, and the characteristic good humour of sailors, there was now a sullenness and gloom only visible. A constant whispering, a constant caballing was going on, a perpetual discussion, as if some design of moment was in agitation, or some step of deep importance was about to be taken. All sociality and confidence towards each other were banished. In place of conversing together in a body as formerly, they now walked about in detached parties, and among them the boatswain and carpenter seemed to take an active lead. Yet, in the midst of all this disorder, a few of the crew kept themselves separate, taking no share in the general consultation, but from the anxiety expressed in their countenances, as well as in that of the mate, I foresaw some storm was brewing, and about to burst on our heads.

Since Montaldo’s death Isabella had been in the habit of leaving her cabin after sunset to enjoy the coolness of the evening breeze, and in this she was sometimes joined by the priest, but more frequently was only attended by her woman. One evening she came up as usual, and after walking backward and forward on deck with me till the dews began to fall, she turned to go below, but just as she approached the companion-way one of the sailors, whom we had rescued from the felucca, who now, in the absence of all discipline, lounged about the quarter-deck without rebuke, shut down the head, and throwing himself on it, declared that none should make him rise without the reward of a kiss. This piece of insolence was received with an encouraging laugh by his fellows, and several slang expressions of wit were uttered, which were loudly applauded by those around. Without a word of remonstrance, Isabella timidly stooped, and would have attempted getting down the ladder without disturbing the men, when, burning with indignation, I seized the rascal by the collar, and pitched him head foremost along the deck. In an instant he got on his legs, and pulling a long clasp-knife out of his pocket, with a loud imprecation made towards me. All the other sailors likewise made a motion to assist him, and I expected to be assailed on all hands, when the mate interfered, and laying hold of the marline-spike which I had caught up wherewith to defend myself, pushed me back as he whispered:

‘Are you mad that you interfere? For heaven’s sake keep quiet, for I have no authority over the crew now!’ And he spoke the truth, for the negro, brandishing his knife, and supported by his comrades, was again advancing, when the hoarse voice of the boatswain, as he ran to the scene of the action, arrested his progress.

‘Hollo! you there; what’s the squall for? Avast! avast! Mingo. Off hands is fair play. Ship that blade of yours, or I’ll send my fist through your ribs, and make daylight shine through them in a minute.’

I related the behaviour of the fellow, and was requesting him to order the others forward, when I was cut short by his exclaiming, to my astonishment:

‘We shall do as we like here, young man! We are all alike free in a British ship. But damn his eyes for an insolent son of a sea cook. He wants to kiss this pretty lady! I’ll let him know she belongs to his betters! The black wench is good enough for him any day. Come, my dear!’ he continued, turning to Isabella; ‘give me the same fee, and I’ll undertake to clear the way for you myself.’

He made as if he meant to approach her, when, careless of what the consequences might be to myself, I hastily stepped forward, and, lifting up the head of the companion, allowed Isabella to run below.

‘This lady is no fit subject for either wit or insolence,’ said I, shutting the doors, ‘and he is less than man who would insult an unprotected female.’

For a little while he stood eyeing me, as if hesitating whether he should resent my interference or remain passive. At length he turned slowly and doggedly away, as he uttered:

‘You ruffle big, and crow with a brisk note, sir. But I’ve seen me do as wonderful a thing as twist your windpipe, and send you over the side to cool yourself a bit; and so I would serve you in the turning of a wave, if it wasn’t that we may have use for you yet! I see in what quarter the wind sets; but mind your eye! for sink me if I don’t keep a sharp look-out ahead over you.’

I now saw that things had come to a crisis--that the crew meant to turn pirates, and I was going to be detained among them for the sake of my professional services. I could not without a shudder reflect on what must be the fate of Isabella among such a gang of reckless villains; but I firmly resolved that, come what might, my protection and care over her should cease but with my life.

To be prepared for the worst, I immediately went below, loaded two pistols which I had brought on board with me, and concealed them in my breast, securing at the same time all my money and papers about my person. While thus employed, one of the cabin boys came down for a telescope, saying that a sail had hove in sight to windward. Upon this I followed him up, and found the crew collected together in a clamorous consultation as to the course they should follow. Some were for laying to till she came near enough, and seizing her if a merchantman; and if not, they could easily sheer off. But this motion was overruled by the majority, who judged it best to keep clear for fear of accidents. Accordingly, all the spare canvas was set, and we were soon gaining large before the wind. But the ‘Ariadne,’ though reckoned the fastest vessel that ever left the Clyde when close hauled on a wind, was by no means so fleet when squared and going free. She had now met with her match, for the stranger was evidently gaining rapidly on us, and in two hours we saw it was impossible for us to escape. The priest and I were ordered down, with a threat of instant death if we offered to come on deck, or made any attempt to attract observation.

I now communicated to Isabella my apprehensions with respect to the crew, along with my resolution to leave the vessel if the other proved a man-of-war, and earnestly advised both her and the priest to take advantage of it also. She thanked me with a look and a smile that told me how sensible she was of the interest I took in her welfare, and expressed her willingness to be guided by me in whatever way I thought best.

Shortly after this we heard a gun fired to bring us to, and the ‘Ariadne’ hailed and questioned as to her port and destination. The answers, it appeared, were thought evasive and unsatisfactory, for we were ordered to come close under the lee quarter of her Majesty’s sloop-of-war ‘Tartar,’ while an officer was sent to examine our papers, for it appeared the ‘Tartar’ had been specially detailed to keep a look-out in those waters for a notorious pirate, who had committed some extraordinary deeds of daring while flying the English flag, and pretending to be a peaceful trader. This was now our only chance, and I resolved that if the officer did not come below I would force the companion door, and claim his protection. But I was not put to this alternative. As soon as he arrived, I heard him desire the hatches to be taken off, so that he could examine the hold. The inspection did not satisfy him, for he hailed the sloop, and reported that there were Spanish goods on board, which did not appear in the manifest.

‘Then remain on board, and keep stern lights burning all night, and take charge of the ship,’ was the reply. In a state of irksome suspense we remained nearly two hours, expecting every moment to hear the officer descending. At length, to our relief, the companion doors were unlocked, and a young man, attended by our captain, entered the cabin. He looked surprised on seeing us, and, bowing to Isabella, apologised for intruding at such an unseasonable hour.

‘But I was not given to understand,’ he added, ‘that there were passengers in the ship--prisoners I should rather pronounce it, Captain Mahone, for you seem to have had them under lock and key, which is rather an unusual mode of treating ladies, at least in a vessel supposed to be bound on a trading voyage. No wine, sir,’ he continued, motioning away the bottle which the captain was hastily placing on the table, ‘no wine, but be pleased to show me your register and bill of lading.’

He had not been long seated to inspect them when a shuffling and hurried sound of feet was heard overhead, and a voice calling on ‘Mr. Wright’ for assistance showed that some scuffle had taken place above. Instantaneously we all started to our feet, and the lieutenant was in the act of drawing his sword, when, accidentally looking round, I observed Mahone presenting a pistol behind. With a cry of warning, I threw myself forward, and had just time to strike the weapon slightly aside, when it went off. The ball narrowly missed the head of Wright, for whom it had been aimed, but struck the priest over the right eye, and the unfortunate man, making one desperate and convulsive leap as high as the ceiling, sunk down dead, and before the captain could fire again I discharged the contents of my pistol into his breast. We then rushed up on deck, but it was only to find that the boat’s crew had been mastered, and to behold the last of the men tumbled overboard. The pirates then dispersed, and exerted themselves to get the ship speedily under way, while the boatswain sang out to extinguish the stern lights that the ‘Tartar’ might not be guided by them.

‘It is all over with us!’ exclaimed my companion, ‘but follow me; we have one chance for our lives yet. Our boat is still towing astern. You throw yourself overboard and swim till I slide down the painter, and cut her adrift. Come, bear a hand, and jump. Don’t you see them hastening aft?’ and in an instant he pitched himself off the taffrail, slid down the rope which held the boat, and cast her loose. But this advice, however judicious, it was impossible for me to follow, for at that moment repeated shrieks from Isabella put to flight all thoughts for my own individual safety. I, therefore, hurried back to the cabin, determined that if I could not rescue her along with myself, to remain and protect her with my life. And in the nick of time I arrived. The candles were still burning on the table, and through the smoke of the pistols, which still filled the cabin, I beheld her struggling in the arms of a Spanish sailor--the identical fellow who had displayed such insolence in the early part of the evening. With one stroke of the butt end of my pistol I fractured the cursed villain’s skull, caught up Isabella in my arms, ran up the ladder, and had nearly gained the side when the boatswain, attracted by her white garments, left the helm to intercept me, and I saw the gleam of a dagger or knife of some sort on the point of descending, when he was suddenly struck down by some person from behind. I did not stop to discover who had done me this good office, but hailing Wright, and clasping Isabella firmly in my arms, I plunged into the water, followed by, at that moment, an unknown ally. With the aid of my companion, whom I now found to be John Wyllie, the mate, we easily managed to support our charge till the boat reached us, when we found that the greater part of the ‘Tartar’s’ men, who also jumped overboard, had been rescued in a similar manner.

When the morning dawned we perceived the ‘Ariadne,’ like a speck in the horizon, and the sloop-of-war in close chase. Our attention was next turned to our own situation, which was by no means enviable. We had escaped, it is true, with our lives, for the present, but without a morsel of food, or a single drop of fresh water with us in the boat. We could at best only expect to protract existence for a few days longer, and then yield them up ultimately in horror and misery. By an observation taken the day before, on board the ‘Tartar,’ Mr. Wright informed us we were to the north-east of the Bahamas, and distant about one hundred and seventy miles from Walling’s Island, which was the nearest land. This was a long distance, but as despair never enters the breast of a British sailor, even in situations of the utmost extremity, we cheered up each other, and, as no other resource was left us, we manned our oars, and pulled away with life, trusting to the chance of meeting with some vessel, of which there was a strong probability, as this was the common course of our leeward traders. And our hopes were not disappointed, for next day we fortunately fell in with a brig from the Azores, bound for Porto Rico, on board of which we were received with much kindness, and in five days we found ourselves safely moored in Porto-Real harbour.

My first step on landing was to inquire for a boarding-house for Isabella, and I had the good luck to be directed to one kept by a respectable English family in Orange Terrace, and to this I conducted her. My next transaction was to charter a small cutter, and to communicate to Wright the secret of the hidden treasure, at the same time asking him to adventure himself and his men on its recovery. I also gave him to understand the probability of a rencontre with the pirates, in the event of their having escaped the sloop, for I was aware that Mahone had overheard the whole confession from my finding him listening at the cabin door. Without hesitation the lieutenant at once agreed to accompany me, and engaging some hands out of a vessel newly arrived, we soon mustered a party of fourteen men, and we hired a cutter. As it wanted only six days to the Festival of St. Jago, and the distance across the Caribbean Sea was great enough to require all our exertions to be there in time, we embarked and sailed that very night.

Our cutter proved a very fast vessel, and though the winds were light and variable we made the Roccas on the evening of the sixth day. As the Spaniard had foretold, the moon was climbing the western sky, and pouring the fulness of her splendour with a mild and beautiful effulgence on the untroubled deep as we slowly drifted with the current between the Wolf Rock and the adjacent isle. All was silent and calm over the whole desert archipelago and the vast surrounding waters, save now and then the flight of a sea fowl awakening from its slumbers as we passed, or the occasional roar of the jaguar faintly wafted from the mainland. We ran the cutter into a deep and narrow creek, moored her safe, and proceeded, well-armed, to the eastern extremity. There we found the projecting point of land, and the old vanilla tree exactly in the situation described--its huge, twisted trunk was still entire, and from the end of its solitary branch, which was graced by a few scattered leaves, the body of a man in the garb of a sailor hung suspended in irons. The clothes had preserved the body from the birds of prey, but the head was picked clean and bare, leaving the eyeless and bleached skull to glitter white in the moonlight. In perfect silence, and with something of awe on our spirits, impressed by the solitude and dreariness of the scene, we seated ourselves on the rocks, and, with my watch in my hand, I began to mark the progress of the shadow. For nearly three hours we watched in this manner, listening attentively for the slightest sound from seaward; but everything continued hushed and still, except the creaking of the chain as the dead man swung to and fro in the breeze. Midnight was now drawing near, the moon, radiant and full, was careering high through the deep blue of heaven, and the shadows of the branch and stem were approaching each other, and towards the desired point. At length the hand of my watch pointed to within one minute of the time. It passed over. The branch and stem now merged into one, and threw their shadow due east, and the first spadeful of earth had been thrown out when the man who had been stationed to keep a look-out came running to inform us that a boat was rapidly approaching from the east. We immediately concluded that they must be some of the ‘Ariadne’s’ crew; and their long and vigorous strokes, as they stretched out to the full extent of their oars, showed that they knew the importance of every minute that elapsed. Our implements for digging were hastily laid aside, and we concealed ourselves among the rocks till the pirates came within reach. In a short time the boat was run ashore, and eight armed men came forward, partly Spaniards and partly the ship’s crew, among whom I recognised the boatswain, and, to my surprise, Mahone, whom I had shot and left for dead in the cabin. Without giving them time to prepare for the assault we quitted our shelter, and sprung among them at once, laying about with the short swords we had provided ourselves with. For a little space the skirmish was toughly and hotly contested, for the pirates were resolute and reckless, and fought with the desperation of men who knew that the only chance for their lives lay in their own exertions. In the confusion of the fray I had lost sight of Wright, and was closely engaged with one of the Spaniards, when the voice of the boatswain, shouting forth a horrible imprecation, sounded immediately behind me. I turned round, and sprang aside from the sweep of his cutlass, and, as my pistols were both empty, retreated, acting upon the defensive, when he pulled out his, fired, and hurled the weapon at my head. The shot passed without injuring me, but the pistol, aimed with better effect, struck me full on the forehead. A thousand sparks of light flashed from my eyes, I felt myself reeling, and on the point of falling, when a cut across the shoulder stretched me at once on the ground. When I recovered from my stupor and opened my eyes, the morning was far advanced, the sun was shining bright overhead, and I found myself at sea, lying on the deck of the cutter, and Wright busily engaged in examining my wounds. From him I learned that the pirates had been mastered after a severe conflict, in which four had been slain and left on the island, two had escaped unobserved during the fight, and made off with their boat, and two had been wounded, and were prisoners on board, one of whom was Mahone. On our arrival at Porto Rico we delivered them over to the civil power, and soon afterwards Mahone was tried for the murder of the priest, when he was convicted on our evidence, condemned, and executed.

Under good nursing and care I gradually recovered, and by the fall of the season, without any further adventures, I once more landed safe in Scotland.

Isabella is not now that destitute and unprotected orphan whom I first saw on the middle of the western ocean, but the happy mistress of a happy home, diffusing life and gladness on all around her. My friend Wright has lately been placed on the list of post-captains, and is anxiously waiting for more bustling times, when there will be more knocking about and more hard blows and quicker promotion than can be hoped for in piping times of peace. John Wyllie, too, has had advancement in his line, being now master of one of the finest ships sailing out of the Clyde, and I have the additional satisfaction of knowing that none of the crew of the cutter have had reason to regret their having jeopardised their lives in fighting for the ‘Pirate’s Treasure,’ which proved to be of far greater value than the confession of the dying Spaniard had led me to believe. Altogether that voyage was an extraordinary one, and at this period I can look back and feel the truths of the saying that ‘Some men are born to strange destinies.’

In this present day we have become more prosaic, and true romances of the sea such as I have described will soon be things of the past.

VI

THE LEGEND OF WOLFSPRING

A STORY OF THE BLACK FOREST

Wolfspring Castle stood in the very heart of the Black Forest, and for centuries had been in possession of the Barons of Wolfspring, one of the most powerful German families of the Middle Ages, and who, even at the present day, although living on the wreck of their former greatness only, still keep up a semblance of dignity.

The seat of these territorial lords was a castellated Gothic mansion built for strength and defence. It was a massive and imposing pile, gloomy and forbidding as to its external aspects, but designed internally with an eye to the comfort and luxury of its occupants. Nevertheless, there were many dark, tortuous corridors and vaulted tapestry rooms, in which there were ghostly echoes. There were also secret stairways, concealed spring doors, and deep down in the basement a number of gloomy dungeons, in which many a ghastly tragedy had been enacted.

A dark grove of pine and mountain ash encompassed the castle on every side, and threw an aspect of weirdness around the scene, and even shut out the sunshine, which failed to penetrate to that part of the forest’s dark depths.

The extraordinary and astounding events that are now about to be related occurred long ago, but incredible as they may seem to the modern sceptic, are still vouched for by those who have their homes in the Black Forest at the present time.

At the period referred to the then Baron of Wolfspring had an only daughter, whose ravishing beauty had caused her to become the talk of Germany, and suitors from all parts had sought her hand. As she was the apple of her father’s eye, however, he had carefully guarded her, in the hope that she would remain with him, as he could not bear the idea of her parting from him. Nevertheless, he surrounded her with nearly everything she desired, and was constantly devising new plans for her amusement. On reaching her twenty-first year her father made it the occasion for a fête, such as was rarely seen even in Germany, and preparations were made for it months before the time. Invitations were sent out lavishly, and it was calculated that the Black Forest would witness a gathering of beauty and bravery which would pass down to posterity as an historical event. The lady’s birthday fell in the winter time, but that did not prevent the invited guests from assembling in great numbers.

The castle bells rang out a merry peal at the approach of a winter twilight, and the warder was stationed with his retinue on the battlements, to announce the arrival of the company who were invited to share the amusements that reigned within the walls. The Lady Marguerite, the baron’s only daughter, never looked more ravishing than on this occasion. The large vaulted apartments were thrown open for the reception of the numerous guests, and by midnight the castle was a scene of gaiety and brilliancy, and the greatest good humour prevailed.

Suddenly it was noted that amongst the guests in the ballroom was a very remarkable-looking man, who had not been noticed before, and who was an utter stranger to everyone present. He attracted attention by his dignified bearing, his handsome features, and the magnificence of his dress. The baron was appealed to, but had to confess that he did not know the stranger, who, on being asked for his name and rank, politely asked that he might be allowed to remain incognito, but he hinted that his lineage was perhaps superior to any else present, and his wishing to remain unknown for a time was a mere whim; but, for convenience sake, he requested that he might be addressed as the count. As may be supposed this mysterious stranger aroused no little curiosity, and his boast of superiority engendered some amount of ill-feeling. It would have been contrary to all traditions of Wolfspring hospitality for the baron to request his strange guest to retire, especially on such an occasion, and although he had come without retinue or following of any kind, and not one of the retainers could give any information as to when or how he arrived, he was treated by the host with every consideration and respect.

It soon became only too obvious, however, that the stranger’s presence was likely to be productive of much heart-burning, if not of actual mischief, for he bestowed all his attentions on the beautiful Marguerite, and quite ignored the other ladies. This would probably have led to a speedy open rupture, as some or other of the jealous men would have been sure to have insulted him, and in that age insult was quickly followed by blows and bloodshed. But somehow or other it began to be whispered that the proud and uninvited guest was none other than the king’s brother, who for certain family reasons had long lived abroad, but his wealth, power, and possible succession to the throne had caused him to be a very-much-talked-of personage in Germany, although no one seemed to know anything about him. But there had been stories of his handsome appearance and his eccentricity. As may be supposed the mere suggestion that the unbidden guest was the mysterious brother of the king at once silenced criticism, and there was a general desire to pay him homage and treat him with respect.

All these flattering attentions he acknowledged with lofty dignity, and it was obvious that he was bent on winning the good opinion of the host’s fair daughter, and equally obvious that she was fascinated by his brilliancy and wit; and when he casually remarked, with a sigh, that in another half-hour he must tear himself from her, and leave the fair scene to ride forth again on his journey, she flew to her father and begged of him to press the count to prolong his stay for a few days. Not wishing to deny his daughter anything, the baron approached the count, who, however, did not seem disposed to yield, until beautiful Marguerite herself added her persuasions to those of her father, and then, with a gracious bow, the count expressed his intention of accepting the invitation.

The festivities were prolonged far into the night. Outside the elements waged war, for a terrific gale swept through the forest, bringing with it the heaviest fall of snow that had been experienced for many years. But the storm did not interfere with the comfort of the revellers, who began to disperse to their respective rooms as the castle bell tolled the hour of five.

The day had far advanced when the guests reassembled for the morning meal. Then experiences were exchanged, and strange stories told. One averred that he had been the victim of remarkable phenomena in his room, another that he had heard the flapping of wings at his window, and when, out of a kindly feeling, he arose and opened the window, thinking that some poor storm-beaten bird was in distress, he was greeted with eldritch laughter and shrill screams that pealed through the forest. Others, again, said that they had heard heavenly music; but several, who occupied apartments near those in which the count had been placed, affirmed that they were startled by awful and unearthly sounds proceeding from his room, and yet they were unable to define those sounds. The more level-headed guests smiled as they heard these fantastic stories, and were disposed to attribute them to the figments of wine-heated brains. The mysterious count was almost the last to put in an appearance at the breakfast table, and when he gathered the subject of the conversation a dark smile of unutterable meaning played round his saturnine features, which then relapsed into an expression of the deepest melancholy. He addressed his conversation principally to Marguerite, and talked enthusiastically of the different climes he had visited, of the sunny regions of Italy, where the very air breathes the fragrance of flowers, and the summer breeze sighs over a land of sweets. When he spoke to her of those delicious countries where the smile of the day sinks into the softer beauty of the night, and the loveliness of heaven is never for an instant obscured, he drew sighs of regret from the bosom of his fair auditor, and for the first time in her life she longed to leave her home and wander in the lands of delight of which the count drew such graphic pictures.

It soon became evident that the count was bent upon making an impression upon the heart of Marguerite, and when a week had elapsed he still lingered at the castle, although most of the guests had departed, but he begged his host’s permission to be allowed to prolong his stay, as he had never before experienced so much happiness. As the baron had now quite come to believe he was entertaining the king’s brother, and the probable future king, he was nothing loth that the stranger should stay, and he even began to think that he could now reconcile himself to the loss of his daughter, so long as there was a prospect of her becoming a queen. For that high honour he was prepared to sacrifice even his own feelings.

Days rolled on, and every moment increased the fervour of the inexpressible sentiments with which the stranger had inspired Marguerite. He never discoursed of love, but he looked it in his language, in his manner, in the insinuating tones of his voice, and in the slumbering softness of his smile; and when he found that he had succeeded in impressing her, a sneer of the most diabolical meaning spoke for an instant, and died again on his dark-featured countenance. When he met her in the company of her father he was at once respectful and submissive, and it was only when alone with her, in her rambles through the forest with her favourite hounds, that he assumed the guise of the more impassioned admirer.

As he was sitting one evening with the baron in a wainscoted apartment of the library, the conversation happened to turn upon supernatural agency. The stranger remained reserved and mysterious during the discussion, but when the baron in a sneering manner denied the existence of spirits, and satirically invoked their appearance, if there was any truth in the many stories he had heard, the count’s eyes seemed to glow with unearthly lustre, and his form to dilate to more than its natural dimensions. When the conversation had ceased, to the astonishment of everyone a chorus of celestial harmony was heard pealing through the dark forest glade. The stranger was disturbed and gloomy; he looked at his noble host with compassion, and something like a tear swam in his dark eyes. After the lapse of a few seconds the music died gently in the distance, and all was hushed as before. The baron soon after quitted the apartment, and was followed almost immediately by the stranger. He had not long been absent from the room when harrowing groans were heard, as if some person was suffering the agonies of an unusually painful death, and when the attendants and others rushed out to ascertain the cause the baron was discovered stretched dead in the corridor. His countenance was convulsed with pain, and the grip of a human hand was clearly visible on his blackened throat. The alarm was instantly given, the castle searched in every direction, and, to the alarm and consternation of everyone, it was found that the count had disappeared. Guests and servants alike mounted their horses and scoured the forest in every direction, but not a trace of the stranger could be discovered, and it was noted that the many paths diverging from the castle were covered with the unsullied and untrodden snow. There was no sign of either man or horse having passed. How, then, had the count gone away? The mystery was profound, and a strange fear fell upon the assembly.

In due course the body of the baron was committed to the earth with all the pomp and ceremony befitting the burial of a person of his high rank, and then those who had remained behind to pay their last respects to the dead host dispersed to their homes, and the remembrance of the dreadful transaction was recalled but as a thing that should be spoken of with bated breath. Men shuddered as they referred to it, and women became hysterical. What was the awful mystery? Would it ever be cleared up? Who was the strange count, and how had he disappeared? He had gone as he came; no one knew how.

After the disappearance of the stranger who had fascinated her and won her love, the spirits of the gentle Marguerite declined. The loss of her lover and the awfully mysterious death of her father threw the girl into a profound melancholy, and she refused to be comforted. She would walk early and late in the walks that he had once frequented so that she might recall his last words, dwell on his honeyed smile, and wander to the spot where she had once discoursed with him of love. She avoided all society, and when alone in the solitude of her chamber she gave vent to her affliction in tears, and the love that the pride of maiden modesty concealed in public burst forth in the hours of privacy. So beauteous, yet so resigned, was the fair mourner that she seemed already an angel freed from the trammels of the world and prepared to take her flight to heaven.

The winter slowly passed. It lingered unusually long that year, but at length the snow melted under the warm rays of the spring sunshine, and in a little while thereafter summer burst in all its glory, and the great forest was resonant with a thousand glad voices of revivified nature. Marguerite had had a seat erected in a spot commanding a magnificent view which had more than once called forth the admiration of the count, although he had only seen it under its winter aspects. Here one summer day she sat wrapped in thought, when she was suddenly startled by someone approaching. She turned round quickly, and to her infinite surprise beheld the count, looking even handsomer and more fascinating than when she last beheld him. He stepped gaily to her side, and commenced an animated conversation.

‘You left me,’ exclaimed the delighted girl, ‘and I thought all happiness was fled from me for ever; but you return, and shall we not be happy?’

‘Happy,’ replied the stranger with a scornful burst of derision, ‘can I ever be happy again? Can the--but excuse the agitation, my love, and impute it to the pleasure I experience at our meeting. Oh! I have many things to tell you; aye! and many kind words to receive. Is it not so, sweet one? Come, tell me truly, have you been happy during my absence? No! I see in that sunken eye, in that pallid cheek, that the poor wanderer has at least gained some slight interest in the heart of his beloved. I have roamed to other climes, I have seen other nations, I have met with other women, beautiful and accomplished, but I have met with but one angel, and she is here before me. Accept this simple offering of my affection, dearest,’ continued the stranger, plucking a heath-rose from its stem; ‘it is beautiful as yourself, and sweet as is the love I bear thee.’

‘It is sweet, indeed,’ replied Marguerite, ‘but its sweetness must wither ere night closes around. It is beautiful, but its beauty is shortlived, as the love evinced by man. Let not this, then, be the type of your attachment. Bring me the delicate evergreen, the sweet flower that blossoms throughout the year, and I will say, as I wreathe it in my hair, “The violets have bloomed and died, the roses have flourished and decayed, but the evergreen is still young, and so is the love of my wanderer.” Ah, don’t think me immodest if I confess my love for you. You taught me love, why then should I conceal my feelings? You will not--cannot desert me again. I live but in you; you are my hope, my thoughts, my existence itself, and if I lose you I lose my all. I was but a solitary wild flower in the wilderness of nature, and can you now break the fond heart you first taught to glow with passion?’

‘Speak not thus,’ returned the stranger, suddenly changing his manner; ‘it rends my very soul to hear you. Leave me, forget me, avoid me for ever, or your eternal ruin must ensue. I am a thing abandoned of God and man, and did you but see the seared heart that scarcely beats within this moving mass of deformity you would flee me as you would an adder in your path. Here is my heart, love, feel how cold it is. There is no pulse that betrays its emotion, for all is chilled and dead as the friends I once knew.’