 | CHAPTER XII. The Red Rover |  |
12. CHAPTER XII.
“Let them accuse me by invention; I will answer in mine
honour.”
—Coriolanus.
“Yes!” muttered the Rover, with bitter irony, as
his boat rowed under the stern of the cruiser of the
Crown; “yes! I, and my officers, will taste of your
banquet! But the viands shall be such as these hirelings
of the King shall little relish!—Pull with a will,
my men, pull; in an hour, you shall rummage the
store-rooms of that fool, for your reward!”
The greedy freebooters who manned the oars could
scarcely restrain their shouts, in order to maintain
that air of moderation which policy still imposed;
but they gave vent to their excitement, in redoubled
efforts in propelling the pinnace. In another minute,
the adventurers were all in safety again under
the sheltering guns of the “Dolphin.”
His people gathered, from the haughty gleamings
that were flashing from the eyes of the Rover, as his
foot once more touched the deck of his own ship,
that the period of some momentous action was at
hand. For an instant, he lingered on the quarter-deck,
surveying, with a sort of stern joy, the sturdy
materials of his lawless command; and then, without
speaking, he abruptly entered his proper cabin,
either forgetful that he had conceded its use to others,
or, in the present excited state of his mind, utterly
indifferent to the change. A sudden and tremendous
blow on the gong announced to the alarmed females,
who had ventured from their secret place, under the
present amicable appearances between the two ships,
not only his presence, but his humour.
“Let the first lieutenant be told I a wait him,” was
the stern order that followed the appearance of the
attendant he had summoned.
During the short period which elapsed before his
mandate could be obeyed, the Rover seemed struggling
with an emotion that choaked him. But when
the door of the cabin was opened, and Wilder stood
before him, the most suspicious and closest observer
might have sought in vain any evidence of the fierce
passion which in reality agitated the inward man.
With the recovery of his self-command, returned a
recollection of the manner of his intrusion into a
place which he had himself ordained should be privileged.
It was then that he first sought the shrinking
forms of the females, and hastened to relieve the terror
that was too plainly to be seen in their countenances,
by words of apology and explanation.
“In the hurry of an interview with a friend,” he
said, “I may have forgotten that I am host to even
such guests as it is my happiness to entertain, though
it be done so very indifferently.”
“Spare your civilities, sir,” said Mrs Wyllys, with
dignity: “In order to make us less sensible of any
intrusion, be pleased to act the master here.”
The Rover first saw the ladies seated; and then,
like one who appeared to think the occasion might
excuse any little departure from customary forms, he
signed, with a smile of high courtesy, to his lieutenant
to imitate their example.
“His Majesty's artisans have sent worse ships than
the `Dart' upon the ocean, Wilder,” he commenced,
with a significant look, as if he intended that the
other should supply all the meaning that his words
did not express; “but his ministers might have selected
a more observant individual for the command.”
“Captain Bignall has the reputation of a brave
and an honest man.”
“Ay! He should deserve it; for, strip him of these
qualities, and little would remain. He gives me to
understand that he is especially sent into this latitude
in quest of a ship that we have all heard of, either
Rover!' ”
The involuntary start of Mrs Wyllys, and the sudden
manner in which Gertrude grasped the arm of
her governess, were certainly seen by the last speaker,
but in no degree did his manner betray the consciousness
of such an observation. His self-possession
was admirably emulated by his male companion,
who answered, with a composure that no jealousy
could have seen was assumed,—
“His cruise will be hazardous, not to say without
success.”
“It may prove both. And yet he has lofty expectations
of the results.”
“He probably labours under the common error as
to the character of the man he seeks.”
“In what does he mistake?”
“In supposing that he will encounter an ordinary
freebooter—one coarse, rapacious, ignorant, and inexorable,
like others of”—
“Of what, sir?”
“I would have said, of his class; but a mariner
like him we speak of forms the head of his own
order.”
“We will call him, then, by his popular name, Mr
Wilder—a rover. But, answer me, is it not remarkable
that so aged and experienced a seaman should
come to this little frequented sea in quest of a ship
whose pursuits should call her into more bustling
scenes?”
“He may have traced her through the narrow
passages of the islands, and followed on the course
she has last been seen steering.”
“He may indeed,” returned the Rover, musing intently.
“Your thorough mariner knows how to calculate
the chances of winds and currents, as the bird
finds its way in air. Still a description of the ship
should be needed for a clue.”
The eyes of Wilder, notwithstanding every effort
to the contrary, sunk before the piercing gaze they
encountered, as he answered,—
“Perhaps he is not without that knowledge, too.”
“Perhaps not. Indeed, he gave me reason to believe
he has an agent in the secrets of his enemy.
Nay, he expressly avowed the same, and acknowledged
that his prospects of success depended on the
skill and information of that individual, who no
doubt has his private means of communicating what
he learns of the movements of those with whom he
serves.”
“Did he name him?”
“He did.”
“It was?”—
“Henry—Ark, alias Wilder.”
“It is vain to attempt denial,” said our adventurer,
rising, with an air of pride that he intended
should conceal the uneasy sensation that in truth beset
him; “I find you know me.”
“For a false traitor, sir.”
“Captain Heidegger, you are safe, here, in using
these reproachful terms.”
The Rover struggled, and struggled successfully,
to keep down the risings of his temper; but the effort
lent to his countenance gleamings of fierce and bitter
scorn.
“You will communicate that fact also to your superiors,”
he said, with taunting irony. “The monster
of the seas, he who plunders defenceless fishermen,
ravages unprotected coasts, and eludes the flag
of King George, as other serpents steal into their
caves at the footstep of man, is safe in speaking his
mind, backed by a hundred and fifty freebooters, and
in the security of his own cabin. Perhaps he knows,
too, that he is breathing in the atmosphere of peaceful
and peace-making woman.”
But the first surprise of the subject of his scorn
nor terrified into entreaties. Folding his arms
with calmness, Wilder simply replied,—
“I have incurred this risk, in order to drive a
scourge from the ocean, which had baffled all other
attempts at its extermination. I knew the hazard,
and shall not shrink from its penalty.”
“You shall not, sir!” returned the Rover, striking
the gong again with a finger that appeared to carry
in its touch the weight of a giant. “Let the negro,
and the topman his companion, be secured in irons,
and, on no account, permit them to communicate, by
word or signal, with the other ship.”—When the
agent of his punishments, who had entered at the
well-known summons, had retired, he again turned
to the firm and motionless form that stood before
him, and continued: “Mr Wilder, there is a law
which binds this community, into which you have so
treacherously stolen, together, that would consign
you, and your miserable confederates, to the yard-arm,
the instant your true character should be known
to my people. I have but to open that door, and to
pronounce the nature of your treason, in order to
give you up to the tender mercies of the crew.”
“You will not! no, you will not!” cried a voice
at his elbow, which thrilled on even all his iron
nerves. “You have forgotten the ties which bind
man to his fellows, but cruelty is not natural to your
heart. By all the recolections of your earliest and
happiest days; by the tenderness and pity which
watched your childhood; by that holy and omniscient
Being who suffers not a hair of the innocent to go
unrevenged, I conjure you to pause, before you forget
your own awful responsibility. No! you will
not—cannot—dare not be so merciless!”
“What fate did he contemplate for me and my
followers, when he entered on this insidious design?”
hoarsely demanded the Rover.
“The laws of God and man are with him,” continued
the governess, quailing not, as her own contracting
eye met the stern gaze which she confronted.
“'Tis reason that speaks in my voice; 'tis mercy
which I know is pleading at your heart. The cause,
the motive, sanctify his acts; while your career can find
justification in the laws neither of heaven nor earth.”
“This is bold language to sound in the ears of a
blood-seeking, remorseless pirate!” said the other,
looking about him with a smile so proud and conscious,
that it seemed to proclaim how plainly he
saw that the speaker relied on the very reverse of
the qualities he named.
“It is the language of truth; and ears like yours
cannot be deaf to the sounds. If”—
“Lady, cease,” interrupted the Rover, stretching
his arm towards her with calmness and dignity. “My
resolution was formed on the instant; and no remonstrance,
nor apprehension of the consequence, can
change it. Mr Wilder, you are free. If you have
not served me as faithfully as I once expected, you
have taught me a lesson in the art of physiognomy,
which shall leave me a wiser man for the rest of my
days.”
The conscious Wilder stood self-condemned and
humbled. The strugglings which stirred his inmost
soul were easily to be read in the workings of a
countenance that was no longer masked in artifice,
but which was deeply charged with shame and sorrow.
The conflict lasted, however, but for a moment.
“Perhaps you know not the extent of my object,
Captain Heidegger,” he said; “it embraced the forfeit
of your life, and the destruction, or dispersion, of
your crew.”
“According to the established usages of that portion
of the world which, having the power, oppresses
the remainder, it did. Go, sir; rejoin your proper
ship; I repeat, you are free.”
“I cannot leave you, Captain Heidegger, without
one word of justification.”
“What! can the hunted, denounced, and condemned
freebooter command an explanation! Is
even his good opinion necessary to a virtuous servant
of the Crown!”
“Use such terms of triumph and reproach as suit
your pleasure, sir,” returned the other, reddening to
the temples as he spoke; “to me your language can
now convey no offence; still would I not leave you
without removing part of the odium which you think
I merit.”
“Speak freely. Sir, you are my guest.”
Although the most cutting revilings could not have
wounded the repentant Wilder so deeply as this generous
conduct, he so far subdued his feelings as to
continue,—
“You are not now to learn,” he said, “that vulgar
rumour has given a colour to your conduct and
character which is not of a quality to command the
esteem of men.”
“You may find leisure to deepen the tints,” hastily
interrupted his listener, though the emotion
which trembled in his voice plainly denoted how
deeply he felt the wound which was given by a world
he affected to despise.
“If called upon to speak at all, my words shall be
those of truth, Captain Heidegger. But is it surprising,
that, filled with the ardour of a service that
you once thought honourable yourself, I should be
found willing to risk life, and even to play the hypocrite,
in order to achieve an object that would not
only have been rewarded, but approved, had it been
successful? With such sentiments I embarked on
the enterprise; but, as Heaven is my judge, your
manly confidence had half disarmed me before my
foot had hardly crossed your threshold.”
“And yet you turned not back?”
“There might have been powerful reasons to the
contrary,” resumed the defendant, unconsciously
glancing his eyes at the females as he spoke. “I
kept my faith at Newport; and, had my two followers
then been released from your ship, foot of mine
should never have entered her again.”
“Young man, I am willing to believe you. I think
I penetrate your motives. You have played a delicate
game; and, instead of repining, you will one
day rejoice that it has been fruitless. Go, sir; a boat
shall attend you to the `Dart'.”
“Deceive not yourelf, Captain Heidegger, in believing
that any generosity of yours can shut my eyes
to my proper duty. The instant I am seen by the
Commander of the ship you name, you: character
will be betrayed.”
“I expect it.”
“Nor will my hand be idle in the struggle that
must follow. I may die, here, a victim to my mistake,
if you please; but, the moment I am released,
I become your enemy.”
“Wilder!” exclaimed the Rover, grasping his
hand, with a smile that partook of the wild peculiarity
of the action, “we should have been acquainted
earlier! But regret is idle. Go; should my people
learn the truth, any remonstrances of mine would be
like whispers in a whirlwind.”
“When last I joined the `Dolphin,' I did not
come alone.”
“Is it not enough,” rejoined the Rover, coldly recoiling
for a step, “that I offer liberty and life?”
“Of what service can a being, fair, helpless, and
unfortunate as this, be in a ship devoted to pursuits
like those of the `Dolphin?' ”
“Am I to be cut off for ever from communion
with the best of my kind! Go, sir; leave me the image
of virtue, at least, though I may be wanting in
its substance.”
“Captain Heidegger, once, in the warmth of your
better feelings, you pronounced a pledge in favour
of these females, which I hope came deep from the
heart.”
“I understand you, sir. What I then said is not,
and shall not, be forgotten. But whither would you
lead your companions? Is not one vessel on the high
seas as safe as another? Am I to be deprived of every
means of making friends unto myself? Leave me,
sir—go—you may linger until my permission to depart
cannot avail you.”
“I shall never desert my charge,” said Wilder,
firmly.
“Mr. Wilder—or I should rather call you Lieutenant
Ark, I believe”—returned the Rover, “you may
trifle with my good nature till the moment of your
own security shall be past.”
“Act your will on me: I die at my post, or go accompanied
by those with whom I came.”
“Sir, the acquaintance of which you boast is not
older than my own. How know you that they prefer
you for their protector? I have deceived myself,
and done poor justice to my own intentions, if they
have found cause for complaints, since their happiness
or comfort has been in my keeping. Speak, fair
one; which will you for a protector?”
“Leave me, leave me!” exclaimed Gertrude, veiling
her eyes, in terror, from the insidious smile with
which he approached her, as she would have avoided
the attractive glance of a basilisk. “Oh! if you have
pity in your heart, let us quit your ship!”
Notwithstanding the vast self-command which the
being she so ungovernably and spontaneously repelled
had in common over his feelings, no effort could repress
the look of deep and humiliating mortification
with which he heard her. A cold and haggard smile
gleamed over his features, as he murmured, in a voice
which he in vain endeavoured to smother,—
“I have purchased this disgust from all my species,
and dearly must the penalty be paid!—Lady, you
and your lovely ward are the mistresses of your own
acts. This ship, and this cabin, are at your command;
or, if you elect to quit both, others will receive
you.”
“Safety for our sex is only to be found beneath
the fostering protection of the laws,” said Mrs Wyllys.
“Would to God!”—
“Enough!” he interrupted, “you shall accompany
your friend. The ship will not be emptier than my
heart, when all have left me.”
“Did you call?” asked a low voice at his elbow,
in tones so plaintive and mild, that they could not
fail to catch his ear.
“Roderick,” he hurriedly replied, “you will find
occupation below. Leave us, good Roderick. For
a while, leave me.
Then, as if anxious to close the scene as speedily
as possible, he gave another of his signals on the
gong. An order was given to convey Fid and the
black into a boat, whither he also sent the scanty
baggage of his female guests. So soon as these brief
arrangements were completed, he handed the governess,
with studied courtesy, through his wondering
people, to the side, and saw her safely seated,
with her ward and Wilder, in the pinnace. The oars
were manned by the two seamen, and a silent adieu
was given by a wave of his hand; after which he
disappeared from those to whom their present release
seemed as imaginary and unreal as had appeared
their late captivity.
The threat of the interference of the crew of the
“Dolphin” was, however, still ringing in the ears of
Wilder. He made an impatient gesture to his attendants
to ply their oars, cautiously steering the boat
on such a course as should soonest lead her from beneath
the guns of the freebooters. While passing
sent across the waters, and the voice of the Rover
was heard speaking to the Commander of the “Dart.”
“I send you a party of your guests,” he said; “and,
among them, all the divinity of my ship.”
The passage was short; nor was time given for
any of the liberated to arrange their thoughts, before
it became necessary to ascend the side of the cruiser
of the Crown.
“Heaven help us!” exclaimed Bignall, catching a
glimpse of the sex of his visiters through a port;
“Heaven help us both, Parson! That young hair-brained
fellow has sent us a brace of petticoats
aboard; and these the profane reprobate calls his divinities!
One may easily guess where he has picked
up such quality; but cheer up, Doctor; one may honestly
forget the cloth in five fathom water, you
know.”
The facetious laugh of the old Commander of the
“Dart” betrayed that he was more than half disposed
to overlook the fancied presumption of his audacious
inferior; furnishing a sort of pledge, to all who heard
it, that no undue scruples should defeat the hilarity
of the moment. But when Gertrude, flushed with
the excitement of the scene through which she had
just passed, and beaming with a loveliness that derived
so much of its character from its innocence, appeared
on his deck, the veteran rubbed his eyes in
an amazement which could not have been greatly
surpassed, had one of that species of beings the Rover
had named actually fallen at his feet from the
skies.
“The heartless scoundrel!” cried the worthy tar,
“to lead astray one so young and so lovely! Ha! as
I live, my own lieutenant! How's this, Mr Ark! have
we fallen on the days of miracles?”
An exclamation, which came deep from the heart
of the governess, and a low and mournful echo from
of his indignation and his wonder.
“Captain Bignall,” observed the former, pointing
to the tottering form which was leaning on Wilder
for support, “on my life, you are mistaken in the
character of this lady. It is more than twenty years
since we last met, but I pledge my own character for
the purity and truth of hers.”
“Lead me to the cabin,” murmured Mrs Wyllys.
“Gertrude, my love, where are we? Lead me to
some secret place.”
Her request was complied with; the whole groupe
retiring in a body from before the sight of the spectators
who thronged the deck. Here the deeply agitated
governess regained a portion of her self-command,
and then her wandering gaze sought the meek-concerned
countenance of the chaplain.
“This is a tardy and heart-rending meeting,” she
said, pressing the hand he gave her to her lips.
“Gertrude, in this gentleman you see the divine that
united me to the man who once formed the pride
and happiness of my existence.”
“Mourn not his loss,” whispered the reverend
priest, bending over her chair, with the interest of a
parent. “He was taken from you at an early hour;
but he died as all who loved him might have wished.
“And none was left to bear, in remembrance of
his qualities, his proud name to posterity! Tell me,
good Merton, is not the hand of Providence visible
in this dispensation? Ought I not to humble myself
before it, as a just punishment of my disobedience
to an affectionate, though too obdurate, parent?”
“None may presume to pry into the mysteries of
the righteous government that orders all things.
Enough for us, that we learn to submit to the will of
Him who rules, without questioning his justice.”
“But,” continued the governess, in tones so husky
as to betray how powerfully she felt the temptation
sufficed? was I to be deprived of all?”
“Madam, reflect! What has been done was done
in wisdom, as I trust it was in mercy.”
“You say truly. I will forget all of the sad events,
but their application to myself. And you, worthy
and benevolent Merton, where and how have been
passed your days, since the time of which we speak?”
“I am but a low and humble shepherd of a truant
flock,” returned the meek chaplain, with a sigh.
“Many distant seas have I visited, and many strange
faces, and stranger natures, has it been my lot to encounter
in my pilgrimage. I am but lately returned,
from the east, into the hemisphere where I first drew
breath; and, by permission of our superiors, I came
to pass a month in the vessel of a companion, whose
friendship bears even an older date than our own.”
“Ay, ay, Madam,” returned the worthy Bignall,
whose feelings had been not a little disturbed by the
previous scene; “it is near half a century since the
Parson and I were boys together, and we have been
rubbing up old recollections on the cruise. Happy
am I that a lady of so commendable qualities has
come to make one of our party.”
“In this lady you see the daughter of the late
Captain —, and the relict of the son of our ancient
Commander, Rear-Admiral de Lacey,” hastily
resumed the divine, as though he knew the well-meaning
honesty of his friend was more to be trusted
than his discretion.
“I knew them both; and brave men and thorough
seamen were the pair! The lady was welcome as
your friend, Merton; but she is doubly so, as the
widow and child of the gentlemen you name.”
“De Lacey!” murmured an agitated voice in the
ear of the governess.
“The law gives me a title to bear that name,”
her assumed appellation, folding her weeping pupil
long and affectionately to her bosom. “The veil is
unexpectedly withdrawn, my love, nor shall concealment
be longer affected. My father was the Captain
of the flag-ship. Necessity compelled him to leave
me more in the society of your young relative than
he would have done, could he have foreseen the
consequences. But I knew both his pride and his
poverty too well, to dare to make him arbiter of my
fate, after the alternative became, to my inexperienced
imagination worse than even his anger. We
were privately united by this gentleman, and neither
of our parents knew of the connexion. Death”—
The voice of the widow became choaked, and
she made a sign to the chaplain, as if she would have
him continue the tale.
“Mr de Lacey and his father-in-law fell in the same
battle, within a short month of the ceremony,” added
the subdued voice of Merton. “Even you, dearest
Madam, never knew the melancholy particulars
of their end. I was a solitary witness of their deaths;
for to me were they both consigned, amid the confusion
of the battle. Their blood was mingled; and
your parent, in blessing the young hero, unconsciously
blessed his son.”
“Oh! I deceived his noble nature, and dearly
have I paid the penalty!” exclaimed the self-abased
widow. “Tell me, Merton, did he ever know of
my marriage?”
“He did not. Mr de Lacey died first, and upon
his bosom, for he loved him ever as a child; but
other thoughts than useless explanations were then
uppermost in their minds.”
“Gertrude,” said the governess, in hollow, repentant
tones, “there is no peace for our feeble sex but
in submission; no happiness but in obedience.”
“It is over now,” whispered the weeping girl;
“all over, and forgotten. I am your child—your
own Gertrude—the creature of your formation.”
“Harry Ark!” exclaimed Bignall, clearing his
throat with a hem so vigorous as to carry the sound
to the outer deck, seizing the arm of his entranced
lieutenant, and dragging him from the scene while he
spoke. “What the devil besets the boy! You forget
that, all this time, I am as ignorant of your own
adventures as is his Majesty's prime minister of navigation.
Why do I see you, here, a visiter from a
royal cruiser, when I thought you were playing the
mock pirate? and how came that harum-scarum twig
of nobility in possession of so goodly a company, as
well as of so brave a ship?”
Wilder drew a long and deep breath, like one that
awakes from a pleasing dream, reluctantly suffering
himself to be forced from a spot where he fondly
felt that he could have continued, without weariness,
for ever.
| CHAPTER XII. The Red Rover | |