 | CHAPTER III. The two admirals |  |
3. CHAPTER III.
Into the heart of Eve his words made way,
Though at the voice much marvelling.”
Milton.
It was, probably, a species of presentiment, that induced
Bluewater to send away the midshipman, when he saw the
adherent of the dethroned house approaching. Enough had
passed between the parties to satisfy each of the secret bias
of the other; and, by that sort of free-masonry which generally
accompanies strong feelings of partisanship, the admiral
felt persuaded that the approaching interview was about to
relate to the political troubles of the day.
The season and the hour, and the spot, too, were all poetically
favourable to an interview between conspirators. It
was now nearly dark; the head-land was deserted, Dutton
having retired, first to his bottle, and then to his bed; the
wind blew heavily athwart the bleak eminence, or was heard
scuffling in the caverns of the cliffs, while the portentous
clouds that drove through the air, now veiled entirely, and
now partially and dimly revealed the light of the moon, in
a way to render the scene both exciting and wild. No
wonder, then, that Bluewater, his visiter drawing near, felt
a stronger disposition than had ever yet come over him to
listen to the tale of the tempter, as, under all the circumstances,
it would scarcely exceed the bounds of justice to
call Sir Reginald.
“In seeking you at such a spot, and in the midst of this
wild landscape,” said the latter, “I might have been assured
I should be certain of finding one who really loved the sea
and your noble profession. The Hall is a melancholy
house, just at this moment; and when I inquired for you,
no one could say whither you had strolled. In following
what I thought a seaman's instinct, it appears that I did
well.—Do my eyes fail me, or are there no more than three
vessels at anchor yonder?”
“Your eyes are still good, Sir Reginald; Admiral Oakes
sailed several hours since, and he has been followed by all
the fleet, with the exception of the two line-of-battle ships,
and the frigate you see; leaving me to be the last to quit
the anchorage.”
“Is it a secret of state, or are you permitted to say
whither so strong a force has so suddenly sailed?” demanded
the baronet, glancing his dark eye so expressively towards
the other as to give him, in the growing obscurity, the appearance
of an inquisitor. “I had been told the fleet would
wait for orders from London?”
“Such was the first intention of the commander-in-chief;
but intelligence of the sailing of the Comte de Vervillin has
induced Sir Gervaise to change his mind. An English
admiral seldom errs when he seeks and beats an active and
dangerous enemy.”
“Is this always true, Admiral Bluewater?” returned Sir
Reginald, dropping in at the side of the other, and joining
in his walk, as he paced, to and fro, a short path that Dutton
called his own quarter-deck; “or is it merely an unmeaning
generality that sometimes causes men to become the
dupes of their own imaginations. Are those always our
enemies who may seem to be so? or, are we so infallible
that every feeling or prejudice may be safely set down as an
impulse to which we ought to submit, without questioning
its authority?”
“Do you esteem it a prejudice to view France as the
natural enemy of England, Sir Reginald?”
“By heaven, I do, sir! I can conceive that England
may be much more her own enemy than France has ever
proved to be. Then, conceding that ages of warfare have
contributed to awaken some such feeling as this you hint at,
is there not a question of right and wrong that lies behind
all. Reflect how often England has invaded the French
soil, and what serious injuries she has committed on the
territory of the latter, while France has so little wronged us,
in the same way; how, even her throne has been occupied
by our princes, and her provinces possessed by our armies.”
“I think you hardly allow for all the equity of the different
cases. Parts of what is now France, were the just
inheritance of those who have sat on the English throne, and
neighbourhood. When our claims were just in themselves,
you surely could not have wished to see them abandoned.”
“Far from it; but when claims were disputed, is it not
natural for the loser to view them as a hardship. I believe
we should have had a much better neighbourhood, as you
call it, with France, had not the modern difficulties connected
with religious changes, occurred.”
“I presume you know, Sir Reginald, that I, and all my
family, are Protestants.”
“I do, Admiral Bluewater; and I rejoice to find that a
difference of opinion on this great interest does not necessarily
produce one on all others. From several little allusions
that have passed between us to-day, I am encouraged to
believe that we think alike on certain temporal matters,
however wide the chasm between us on spiritual things.”
“I confess I have fallen into the same conclusion; and
I should be sorry to be undeceived if wrong.”
“What occasion, then, for farther ambiguity? Surely
two honourable men may safely trust each other with their
common sentiments, when the times call for decision and
frankness! I am a Jacobite, Admiral Bluewater; if I risk
life or fortune by making the avowal, I place both, without
reserve, at your mercy.”
“They could not be in safer hands, sir; and I know no
better mode of giving you every possible assurance that the
confidence will not be abused, than by telling you in return,
that I would cheerfully lay down my life could the sacrifice
restore the deposed family to the throne.”
“This is noble, and manly, and frank, as I had hoped
from a sailor!” exclaimed Sir Reginald, more delighted than
he well knew how to express at the moment. “This simple
assurance from your lips, carries more weight than all the
oaths and pledges of vulgar conspiracy. We understand
each other, and I should be truly sorry to inspire less confidence
than I feel.”
“What better proof can I give you of the reliance placed
on your faith, than the declaration you have heard, Sir Reginald?
My head would answer for your treachery in a
week; but I have never felt it more securely on my shoulders
than at this moment.”
The baronet grasped the other's hand, and each gave and
received a pressure that was full of meaning. Then both
walked on, thoughtful and relieved, for quite a minute, in
profound silence.
“This sudden appearance of the prince in Scotland has
taken us all a little by surprise,” Sir Reginald resumed, after
the pause; “though a few of us knew that his intentions led
him this way. Perhaps he has done well to come unattended
by a foreign force, and to throw himself, as it might
be singly, into the arms of his subjects; trusting everything
to their generosity, loyalty, and courage. Some blame
him; but I do not. He will awaken interest, now, in every
generous heart in the nation,”—this was artfully adapted to
the character of the listener;—“whereas, some might feel
disposed to be lukewarm under a less manly appeal to their
affections and loyalty. In Scotland, we learn from all directions
that His Royal Highness is doing wonders, while
the friends of his house are full of activity in England,
though compelled, for a time, to be watchful and prudent.”
“I rejoice, from the bottom of my heart, to hear this!”
said Bluewater, drawing a long breath, like one whose mind
was unexpectedly relieved from a heavy load. “From the
bottom of my heart, do I rejoice! I had my apprehensions
that the sudden appearance of the prince might find his well-wishers
unprepared, and timid through surprise.”
“As far from that as possible, my dear sir; though much
still depends on the promptitude and resolution of the master
spirits of the party. We are strong enough to control the
nation, if we can bring those forward who have the strength
to lead and control ourselves. All we now want are some
hundred or two of prominent men to step out of their diffidence
and show us the way to honourable achievement and
certain success.”
“Can such men be wanting, at a moment like this?”
“I think we are secure of most of the high nobility,
though their great risks render them all a little wary in the
outset. It is among the professional men—the gallant soldiers,
and the bold, ardent seamen of the fleet, that we must
look for the first demonstrations of loyalty and true patriotism.
To be honest with you, sir, I tire of being ruled by a
German.”
“Do you know of any intention to rally a force in this
part of England, Sir Reginald? If so, say but the word—
point out the spot where the standard is to be raised, and I
will rally under it, the instant circumstances will permit!”
“This is just what I expected, Mr. Bluewater,” answered
the baronet, more gratified than he thought it prudent to
express; “though it is not exactly the form in which you
can best serve us at this precise moment. Cut off from the
north, as we are in this part of the island, by all the resources
of the actual government, it would be the height of
imprudence in us to show our hands, until all the cards are
ready to be played. Active and confidential agents are at
work in the army; London has its proper share of business
men, while others are in the counties, doing their best to
put things in a shape for the consummation we so anxiously
look for. I have been with several of our friends in this
vicinity, to bring matters into a combined state; and it was
my intention to visit this very estate, to see what my own
name might do with the tenantry, had not the late Sir Wycherly
summoned me as he did, to attend his death-bed.
Have you any clue to the feelings of this new and young
head of my family, the sea-lieutenant and present baronet?”
“Not a very plain one, sir, though I doubt if they be
favourable to the House of Stuart.”
“I feared as much; this very evening I have had an
anonymous communication that I think must come from his
competitor, pretty plainly intimating that, by asserting his
rights, as they are called, the whole Wychecombe tenantry
and interest could be united, in the present struggle, on
whichever side I might desire to see them.”
“This is a bold and decided stroke, truly! May I inquire
as to your answer, Sir Reginald?”
“I shall give none. Under all circumstances I will ever
refuse to place a bastard in the seat of a legitimate descendant
of my family. We contend for legal and natural rights,
my dear admiral, and the means employed should not be
unworthy of the end. Besides, I know the scoundrel to be
unworthy of trust, and shall not have the weakness to put
myself in his power. I could wish the other boy to be of
another mind; but, by getting him off to sea, whither he
harm's way.”
In all this Sir Reginald was perfectly sincere; for, while
he did not always hesitate about the employment of means,
in matters of politics, he was rigidly honest in everything
that related to private property; a species of moral contradiction
that is sometimes found among men who aim at the
management of human affairs; since those often yield to a
besetting weakness who are nearly irreproachable in other
matters. Bluewater was glad to hear this declaration; his
own simplicity of character inducing him to fancy it was an
indication to the general probity of his companion.
“Yes,” observed the latter, “in all cases, we must maintain
the laws of the land, in an affair of private right. This
young man is not capable, perhaps, of forming a just estimate
of his political duties, in a crisis like this, and it may
be well, truly, to get him off to sea, lest by taking the losing
side, he endanger his estate before he is fairly possessed of
it. And having now disposed of Sir Wycherly, what can
I do most to aid the righteous and glorious cause?”
“This is coming to the point manfully, Sir Richard—I
beg pardon for thus styling you, but I happen to know that
your name has been before the prince, for some time, as one
of those who are to receive the riband from a sovereign
really authorized to bestow it; if I have spoken a little prematurely,
I again entreat your pardon;—but, this is at once
coming manfully to the point! Serve us you can, of course,
and that most effectually, and in an all-important manner.
I now greatly regret that my father had not put me in the
army, in my youth, that I might serve my prince as I could
wish, in this perilous trial. But we have many friends accustomed
to arms, and among them your own honourable
name will appear conspicuous as to the past, and encouraging
as to the future.”
“I have carried arms from boyhood, it is true, Sir Reginald,
but it is in a service that will scarcely much avail us
in this warfare. Prince Edward has no ships, nor do I
know he will need any.”
“True, my dear sir, but King George has! As for the
necessity, permit me to say you are mistaken; it will soon
be all-important to keep open the communication with the
some such object, already.”
Bluewater started, and he recoiled from the firm grasp
which the other took of his arm, in the earnestness of discourse,
with some such instinctive aversion as a man recoils
from the touch of the reptile. The thought of a treachery
like that implied in the remark of his companion had never
occurred to him, and his honest mind turned with a strong
disrelish, from even the implied proposition of the other.
Still, he was not quite certain how far Sir Reginald wished
to urge him, and he felt it just to ascertain his real views
before he answered them. Plausible as this appeared, it
was a dangerous delay for one so simple-minded, when
brought in contact with a person as practised as the baronet;
Sir Reginald having the tact to perceive that his new friend's
feelings had already taken the alarm, and at once determining
to be more wary.
“What am I to understand by this, Sir Reginald Wychecombe?”
demanded the rear-admiral. “In what manner
can I possibly be connected with the naval resources of the
House of Hanover, when it is my intention to throw off its
service. King George's fleets will hardly aid the Stuarts;
and they will, at least, obey the orders of their own officers.”
“Not the least doubt in the world of this, Admiral Bluewater!
What a glorious privilege it was for Monk to have
it in his power to put his liege sovereign in his rightful seat,
and thus to save the empire, by a coup de main, from the
pains and grievances of a civil contest! Of all the glorious
names in English history, I esteem that of George Monk as
the one most to be envied! It is a great thing to be a prince—
one born to be set apart as God's substitute on earth, in all
that relates to human justice and human power;—and yet
it is greater, in my eyes, to be the subject to restore the
order of these almost divine successions, when once deranged
by lawless and presuming men.”
“This is true enough, sir; though I would rather have
joined Charles on the beach at Dover, armed only with an
untainted sword, than followed by an army at my heels!”
“What, when that army followed cheerfully, and was
equally eager with yourself to serve their sovereign!”
“That, indeed, might somewhat qualify the feeling. But
of those who have been placed in command over them by
the higher authorities.”
“No doubt they are; and that is as it should be. We
are encouraged to believe that some ten or fifteen captains
are already well-disposed towards us, and will cheerfully
take their respective ships to the points our wants require,
the moment they feel assured of being properly led, when
collected. By a little timely concert, we can command the
North Sea, and keep open important communications with
the continent. It is known the ministry intend to employ
as many German troops as they can assemble, and a naval
force will be all-important in keeping these mustachoed
foreigners at a distance. The quarrel is purely English,
sir, and ought to be decided by Englishmen only.”
“In that, indeed, I fully concur, Sir Reginald,” answered
Bluewater, breathing more freely. “I would cruise a whole
winter in the North Sea to keep the Dutchmen at home, and
let Englishmen decide who was to be England's king. To
me, foreign interference, in such a matter, is the next evil
to positive disloyalty to my rightful prince.”
“These are exactly my sentiments, dear sir, and I hope
to see you act on them. By the way, how happens it you
are left alone, and in what manner do you admirals divide
your authority when serving in company?”
“I do not know I comprehend your question, Sir Reginald.
I am left here to sail the last with the Cæsar; Sir
Gervaise leading out in the Plantagenet, with a view to
draw a line across the channel that shall effectually prevent
de Vervillin from getting to the westward.”
“To the westward!” repeated the other, smiling ironically,
though the darkness prevented the admiral from seeing
the expression of his features. “Does Admiral Oakes
then think that the French ships are steering in that direction?”
“Such is our information; have you any reason to suppose
that the enemy intend differently?”
The baronet paused, and he appeared to ruminate.
Enough had already passed to satisfy him he had not an
ordinary mind in that of his companion to deal with, and he
was slightly at a loss how to answer. To bring the other
aid the designing just at that moment suggested the plan
which, of all others, was most likely to be successful. Bluewater
had betrayed his aversion to the interference of foreign
troops in the quarrel, and on this subject he intended to
strike a chord which he rightly fancied would thrill on the
rear-admiral's feelings.
“We have our information, certainly,” answered Sir
Reginald, like one who was reluctant to tell all he knew;
“though good faith requires it should not actually be exposed.
Nevertheless, any one can reason on the probabilities.
The Duke of Cumberland will collect his German
auxiliaries, and they must get into England the best way
that they can. Would an intelligent enemy with a well-appointed
fleet suffer this junction, if he could prevent it?
We know he would not; and when we remember the precise
time of the sailing of the Comte, his probable ignorance
of the presence of this squadron of yours, in the channel,
and all the other circumstances of the case, who can suppose
otherwise than to believe his aim is to intercept the
German regiments.”
“This does seem plausible; and yet the Active's signals
told us that the French were steering west; and that, too,
with a light westerly wind.”
“Do not fleets, like armies, frequently make false demonstrations?
Might not Monsieur de Vervillin, so long as his
vessels were in sight from the shore, have turned toward the
west, with an intention, as soon as covered by the darkness,
to incline to the east, again, and sail up channel, under English
ensigns, perhaps? Is it not possible for him to pass the
Straits of Dover, even, as an English squadron—your own,
for instance—and thus deceive the Hanoverian cruisers until
ready to seize or destroy any transports that may be sent?”
“Hardly, Sir Reginald,” said Bluewater, smiling. “A
French ship can no more be mistaken for an English ship,
than a Frenchman can pass for a Briton. We sailors are
not as easily deceived as that would show. It is true, however,
that a fleet might well stand in one direction, until far
enough off the land or covered by night, when it might
change its course suddenly, in an opposite direction; and it
is possible the Comte de Vervillin has adopted some such
German troops into the island, it is even quite probable. In
that case, for one, I could actually wish him success!”
“Well, my dear sir, and what is to prevent it?” asked
Sir Reginald, with a triumph that was not feigned. “Nothing,
you will say, unless he fall in with Sir Gervaise
Oakes. But you have not answered my inquiry, as to the
manner in which flag-officers divide their commands, at
sea?”
“As soldiers divide their commands ashore. The superior
orders, and the inferior obeys.”
“Ay, this is true; but it does not meet my question.
Here are eleven large ships, and two admirals; now what
portion of these ships are under your particular orders, and
what portion under those of Sir Gervaise Oakes?”
“The vice-admiral has assigned to himself a division of
six of the ships, and left me the other five. Each of us has
his frigates and smaller vessels. But an order that the commander-in-chief
may choose to give any captain must be
obeyed by him, as the inferior submits, as a rule, to the last
order.”
“And you,” resumed Sir Reginald, with quickness;
“how are you situated, as respects these captains.”
“Should I give a direct order to any captain in the fleet,
it would certainly be his duty to obey it; though circumstances
might occur which would render it obligatory on
him to let me know that he had different instructions from
our common superior. But, why these questions, Sir Reginald?”
“Your patience, my dear admiral;—and what ships have
you specifically under your care?”
“The Cæsar, my own; the Dublin, the Elizabeth, the
York, and the Dover. To these must be added the Druid
frigate, the sloop of war, and the Gnat. My division
numbers eight in all.”
“What a magnificent force to possess at a moment as
critical as this!—But where are all these vessels? I see but
four and a cutter, and only two of these seem to be large.”
“The light you perceive there, along the land to the westward,
is on board the Elizabeth; and that broad off here,
in the channel, is on board the York. The Dover's lantern
Dublin casts, and is off after the others!”
“And you intend to follow, Admiral Bluewater?”
“Within an hour, or I shall lose the division. As it is,
I have been deliberating on the propriety of calling back the
sternmost ships, and collecting them in close squadron; for
this increase and hauling of the wind render it probable they
will lose the vice-admiral, and that day-light will find the
line scattered and in confusion. One mind must control the
movements of ships, as well as of battalions, Sir Reginald,
if they are to act in concert.”
“With what view would you collect the vessels you have
mentioned, and in the manner you have named, if you do
not deem my inquiry indiscreet?” demanded the baronet,
with quickness.
“Simply that they might be kept together, and brought
in subjection to my own particular signals. This is the duty
that more especially falls to my share, as head of the division.”
“Have you the means to effect this, here, on this hill, and
by yourself, sir?”
“It would be a great oversight to neglect so important a
provision. My signal-officer is lying under yonder cover,
wrapped in his cloak, and two quarter-masters are in readiness
to make the very signal in question; for its necessity
has been foreseen, and really would seem to be approaching.
If done at all, it must be done quickly, too. The light
of the York grows dim in the distance. It shall be done,
sir; prudence requires it, and you shall see the manner in
which we hold our distant ships in command.”
Bluewater could not have announced more agreeable intelligence
to his companion. Sir Reginald was afraid to
propose the open treason he meditated; but he fancied, if
the rear-admiral could fairly withdraw his own division from
the fleet, it would at once weaken the vice-admiral so much,
as to render an engagement with the French impossible,
and might lead to such a separation of the commands as to
render the final defection of the division in-shore easier of
accomplishment. It is true, Bluewater, himself, was actuated
by motives directly contrary to these wishes; but, as the
parties travelled the same road to a certain point, the intriguing
his new friend to continue on in his own route.
Promptitude is a military virtue, and, among seamen, it
is a maxim to do everything that is required to be done,
with activity and vigour. These laws were not neglected
on the present occasion. No sooner had the rear-admiral
determined on his course, than he summoned his agents to
put it in execution. Lord Geoffrey had returned to the
heights and was within call, and he carried the orders to the
lieutenant and the quarter-masters. The lanterns only required
lighting, and then they were run aloft on Dutton's
staff, as regularly as the same duty could have been performed
on the poop of the Cæsar. Three rockets were
thrown up, immediately after, and the gun kept on the cliffs
for that purpose was fired, to draw attention to the signal.
It might have been a minute ere the heavy ordnance of the
Cæsar repeated the summons, and the same signal was shown
at her mast-head. The Dublin was still so near that no
time was lost, but according to orders, she too repeated the
signal; for in the line that night, it was understood that an
order of this nature was to be sent from ship to ship.
“Now for the Elizabeth!” cried Bluewater; “she cannot
fail to have heard our guns, and to see our signals.”
“The York is ahead of her, sir!” exclaimed the boy;
“see; she has the signal up already!”
All this passed in a very few minutes, the last ships having
sailed in the expectation of receiving some such recall.
The York preceded the ship next to her in the line, in consequence
of having gone about, and being actually nearer
to the rear-admiral than her second astern. It was but a
minute, before the gun and the lanterns of the Elizabeth,
however, announced her knowledge of the order, also.
The two ships last named were no longer visible from the
cliffs, though their positions were known by their lights; but
no sign whatever indicated the part of the ocean on which
the Dover was struggling along through the billows. After
a pause of several minutes, Bluewater spoke.
“I fear we shall collect no more,” he said; “one of my
ships must take her chance to find the commander-in-chief,
alone. Ha!—that means something!”
At this instant a faint, distant flash was seen, for a single
to listen, in breathless attention. A little time had elapsed,
when the dull, smothered report of a gun proclaimed that
even the Dover had caught the rapidly transmitted order.
“What means that, sir?” eagerly demanded Sir Reginald,
who had attended to everything with intense expectation.
“It means, sir, that all of the division are still under my
command. No other ship would note the order. Their
directions, unless specifically pointed out by their numbers,
must come from the vice-admiral. Is my barge ashore,
Lord Geoffrey Cleveland?”
“It is, sir, as well as the cutter for Mr. Cornet and the
quarter-masters.”
“It is well. Gentlemen, we will go on board; the Cæsar
must weigh and join the other vessels in the offing. I will
follow you to the landing, but you will shove off, at once,
and desire Captain Stowel to weigh and cast to-port. We
will fill on the starboard tack, and haul directly off the
land.”
The whole party immediately left the station, hurrying
down to the boats, leaving Bluewater and Sir Reginald to
follow more leisurely. It was a critical moment for the
baronet, who had so nearly effected his purpose, that his
disappointment would have been double did he fail of his
object altogether. He determined, therefore, not to quit the
admiral while there was the slightest hope of success. The
two consequently descended together to the shore, walking,
for the first minute or two, in profound silence.
“A great game is in your hands, Admiral Bluewater,”
resumed the baronet; “rightly played, it may secure the
triumph of the good cause. I think I may say I know de
Vervillin's object, and that his success will reseat the Stuarts
on the thrones of their ancestors! One who loves them
should ponder well before he does aught to mar so glorious
a result.”
This speech was as bold as it was artful. In point of
fact, Sir Reginald Wychecombe knew no more of the Comte
de Vervillin's intended movements than his companion; but
he did not hesitate to assert what he now did, in order to
obtain a great political advantage, in a moment of so much
importance. To commit Bluewater and his captains openly
itself; to frustrate the plans of Sir Gervaise might safely be
accounted another; and, then, there were all the chances
that the Frenchman was not at sea for nothing, and that his
operations might indeed succour the movements of the prince.
The baronet, upright as he was in other matters, had no
scruples of conscience on this occasion; having long since
brought himself over to the belief that it was justifiable to
attain ends as great as those he had in view, by the sacrifice
of any of the minor moral considerations.
The effect on Bluewater was not trifling. The devil had
placed the bait before his eyes in a most tempting form; for
he felt that he had only to hold his division in reserve to
render an engagement morally improbable. Abandon his
friend to a superior force he could and would not; but, it is
our painful duty to avow that his mind had glimpses of the
possibility of doing the adventurer in Scotland a great good,
without doing the vice-admiral and the van of the fleet any
very essential harm. Let us be understood, however. The
rear-admiral did not even contemplate treason, or serious
defection of any sort; but, through one of those avenues of
frailty by which men are environed, he had a glance at
results that the master-spirit of evil momentarily placed
before his mental vision as both great and glorious.
“I wish we were really certain of de Vervillin's object,”
he said; the only concession he made to this novel feeling,
in words. “It might, indeed, throw a great light on the
course we ought to take ourselves. I do detest this German
alliance, and would abandon the service ere I would convoy
or transport a ragamuffin of them all to England.”
Here Sir Reginald proved how truly expert he was in the
arts of management. A train of thought and feeling had
been lighted in the mind of his companion, which he felt
might lead to all he wished, while he was apprehensive that
further persuasion would awaken opposition, and renew old
sentiments. He wisely determined, therefore, to leave things
as they were, trusting to the strong and declared bias of the
admiral in favour of the revolution, to work out its own
consequences, with a visible and all-important advantage so
prominently placed before his eyes.
“I know nothing of ships,” he answered, modestly; “but
ill become me to advise one of your experience how to lead
a force like this, which is subject to your orders; but, a
friend of the good cause, who is now in the west, and who
was lately in the presence itself, tells me that the prince
manifested extreme satisfaction when he learned how much
it might be in your power to serve him.”
“Do you then think my name has reached the royal
ear, and that the prince has any knowledge of my real
feelings?”
“Nothing but your extreme modesty could cause you to
doubt the first, sir; as to the last, ask yourself how came I
to approach you to-night, with my heart in my hand, as it
might be, making you master of my life as well as of my
secret. Love and hatred are emotions that soon betray
themselves.”
It is matter of historical truth that men of the highest
principles and strongest minds have yielded to the flattery
of rank. Bluewater's political feelings had rendered him
indifferent to the blandishments of the court at London,
while his imagination, that chivalrous deference to antiquity
and poetical right, which lay at the root of his Jacobitism,
and his brooding sympathies, disposed him but too well to
become the dupe of language like this. Had he been more
a man of facts, one less under the influence of his own imagination;
had it been his good fortune to live even in contact
with those he now so devoutly worshipped, in a political
sense at least, their influence over a mind as just and clear-sighted
as his own, would soon have ceased; but, passing
his time at sea, they had the most powerful auxiliary possible,
in the high faculty he possessed of fancying things as
he wished them to be. No wonder, then, that he heard
this false assertion of Sir Reginald with a glow of pleasure;
with even a thrill at the heart to which he had long been a
stranger. For a time, his better feelings were smothered in
this new and treacherous sensation.
The gentlemen, by this time, were at the landing, and it
became necessary to separate. The barge of the rear-admiral
was with difficulty kept from leaping on the rock, by
means of oars and boat-hooks, and each instant rendered
the embarkation more and more difficult. The moments
was short. Sir Reginald said but little, though he
intended the pressure of the hand he gave his companion to
express everything.
“God be with you,” he added; “and as you prove true,
may you prove successful! Remember, `a lawful prince,
and the claims of birth-right.' God be with you!”
“Adieu, Sir Reginald; when we next meet, the future
will probably be more apparent to us all.—But who comes
hither, rushing like a madman towards the boat?”
A form came leaping through the darkness; nor was it
known, until it stood within two feet of Bluewater, it was
that of Wycherly. He had heard the guns and seen the
signals. Guessing at the reasons, he dashed from the park,
which he was pacing to cool his agitation, and which now
owned him for a master, and ran the whole distance to the
shore, in order not to be left. His arrival was most opportune;
for, in another minute, the barge left the rock.
| CHAPTER III. The two admirals | |