University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

As soon as Howard recovered from his surprise at what he had
heard and seen, he started in pursuit of his brother, who he believed
contemplated some act of self-destruction. Duncan was already
out of sight, but he could hear his swift, strong tread falling among
the broken twigs and autumn leaves of the forest. He had no time
to ask himself what he was to say to him, or to reflect properly on
the astounding discovery he had made of his brother's love for Isabel!
The feelings that agitated his bosom were painful in the extreme.
He condemned himself, censured Isabel, and pitied his
brother. The next moment he reversed these sentiments. His
mind was a chaos of the wildest thoughts. He knew not what to
think or how to act. But his generous nature was uppermost, and
he internally resolved that he would sacrifice himself, if need were,
to his brother's happiness. But surprise at his discovery more than
all else, filled his mind as he hurried on in the pursuit. To what
end the pursuit? He knew not himself, save that Duncan was
unhappy, and he wished to comfort him.

The unhappy lover, in the meanwhile, flew along the forest
glades, amid which he had, in happier hours, walked with her from
whom he now fled. He paused not to reflect until he reached that
portion of the path which traversed the brow of the cliff and gave
an open view of the bay.

Here he paused and bared his head and threw back the hair from
his feverish temples, and seemed to gasp for the free cool air from
the sea. It was star-light, save in the west where the roseate hues
of the sun-set still lingered. A gentle breeze came landward and
cooled his brow. The waves broke musicallly and with a soothing
sound at his feet. Half a league distant were faintly visible the
dark outlines of the three frigates and brig of war, comprising the
Tripolitan squadron, anchored and ready for sea. The lights from
each and from the numerous merchantmen anchored farther below,
danced fitfully and brightly across the mottled water, and
gave brilliancy and novelty to the scene.

He stood a few moments and the influence of the quiet scene had
its effect upon his mind. He thought calmly and reflected with
reason.

`Yes, I see how it is. Isabel loves him. She misunderstood the
character of her feelings when she thought her sentiments towards
me were love. My brother Howard has been the happy one to teach
her what the true love of the heart is! Yet, nevertheless, I loved her,
and love her still, for all that she loved me not with all her being.
Did she love me as she loves Howard, I could love her no more
than now. Oh, luckless hour that my brother came in the way of
my happiness, and unwittingly dashed the cup of my bliss to the
earth. He knows not what mischief he has done. Had he not
loved her she would still love me as much as I would ask her to
love me. He cannot love her, he cannot adore her as I have done.
Nay—and why should he not? His nature is full of kindly feelings,
and his heart is charged full with the best affections. It only remains
for me to let them both be happy. I will in a day or two leave
for Europe. I will not see her again. I will try and forget her in
my absence, and try and pray for the happiness of both. She has
made me happy—she has atoned to my pride by confessing that
but for Howard she would still have been, and believed herself to
be wholly mine. Nay—she even said if my brother were not living
(Heaven preserve him in a long and happy life!) she could be
mine. Oh, blest thought! sweet solace to my wounded love!—
This is as if she were mine in heart, for my brother can never hold
in my idea the place of a rival! Let him take her, so she loves me
also He is the brother of my soul, and I can make even this sacrifice
for him. To-morrow I leave for Europe.'

`Nay, brother, my noble injured brother,' cried Howard, whose
approach he had not regarded; `nay, this must not be so. Forgive
me what I have done. I knew not the truth, or I would have
drowned myself in the sea ere I would have been the guilty wretch
I must seem to you. Forgive me, brother.' And Howard caught
his brother's hand and threw himself at his feet in tears.

`Generous and noble ever, my beloved brother!' cried Duncan,
raising him from the ground and folding him to his heart. `Thou
hast no need to ask forgiveness at my hands. But what dost thou
know?'

`Say thou wilt pardon me, Duncan. I have by accident overheard
thy parting conversation with Miss Sumpter. I know all!
She was thine—betrothed to thee ere I ever thought of love.'

`And yet thou lovest her with all thy being, brother! I have
seen this. I know it! She cannot love me now. She never loved
me, but deceived by her heart, believed she did. She knew not
love save by name till she saw you!' said Duncan bitterly.

`Brother, hear me! I pray you listen kindly;' said Howard with
fervor and much feeling.

`Nay, thou lovest her, and she loves thee. I have made up my
resolution to go to Europe to-morrow. She is worthy of thee, and
thou art her peer in all things. God bless you both!'

With these words, spoken with deep emotion, and interrupted by
strong efforts to suppress the heaving of his laboring heart, Duncan
turned and walked away, with his face buried in his hands.

`Duncan, brother!' said Howard, laying his hand affectionately
upon his arm, and speaking in a tone of great firmness and earnestness;
`if you love me, stop and listen to what I have to say. You
love Isabel Sumpter, still, with all your soul. She loves thee still.
Nay—I know it! Her words—her manner—her very looks betrayed
it to-night. Do not speak yet. I only stand between her
and her former love for you. She confessed to you if I were not
living her heart would fly back to you! You are satisfied with her
love as it once was, though it may not be of the romantic character
she entertains towards me. Indeed, I question, if she hath loved
me, save idly, till you returned!'

`Herein you do yourself injustice, brother, to make me think
your sacrifice less,' answered Duncan. `I am satisfied of her love
for you.'

`But I do not love her—at least,' he said quickly, `so fondly that
I cannot give her up to my brother. I love my brother most!'

`Howard! I will confess that my life's happiness is wrapped up
in Miss Sumpter. But she loves me not. You are her heart's
chosen one! To you I surrender her! I love you, not more than
her! but more than myself, and can make this sacrifice to you.
Take her and be happy, both of you. Now let us speak no more
of it!' he added, evidently with a painful effort to speak with
cheerfulness.

They walked along the cliff together for some moments arm in
arm, Howard's face silently turned in the direction of the lights
of the squadron sparkling over the waves, and Duncan with his
eyes musingly fixed upon the ground At length Howard stopped
full, and spoke with extraordinary energy.

`Brother!'

`Howard!'

`If by any chance I no longer stood between you and Isa—
Miss Sumpter, would you take back her heart, with only its old
love for you, letting her keep the residue buried in her heart's
depths for my memory's sake. In plain words should I die to
night, would you still be happy in her love, if she would in time
return to you?'

`Heaven in mercy prevent the contingency, and long preserve
your life, my dear brother! But, I frankly answer, for frankly
you have put the question, I would!'

`And do you think her love would flow back into its former
channels in your bosom?'

`I do. But why these questions?'

Howard made no reply for a moment, and thus said, in a low
half tone, as if uttering aloud his thoughts,

`And that it would flow back, I know from her own confession
this evening to him. It would not flow with all its deep waters of
love,' he added tenderly; `for there would still remain at the bottom
of her soul the fathomless still fountain, in the calm eternal
depths of which I know my own image to be reflected!'

Duncan was lost in his own thoughts, and did not hear or heed
his words. At length Howard spoke out:

`Brother!'

`Howard!' answered Duncan, starting at the abruptness of the
address.

`Be happy! I have resolved to give up my love for Isabel, for I
confess I love her as deeply as I am capable of loving, to my love
for thee! I will not be made happy at your expense. I am younger
and more buoyant of spirit, and can forget easier than you can.
At least to resign her will not sink so deep into my soul as into
thine. If I am out of the way she will love thee in my stead, and
you will be happy with her. You will cause her to forget me. I
have therefore decided to leave home at once, and not return till
you are husband and wife. Absence will work its own cure in
her affections, and you will be happy!'

`Never, brother, shall you make this sacrifice,' cried Duncan,
in a spirit of generous enthusiasm. `She loves you most, and
your own happiness is as much enlisted in her as my own. Shall I
be so selfish then, as to secure my own happiness at the expense
of yours! No, my noble Howard! The sacrifice shall be mine!
She will regard my absence less than thine—nay she would forget
me in the light of thy love! Thee she would never forget while
thou wert living, nor cease to hope for thy return! No, Howard!
The die is cast! I go away and leave thee to the love and happiness
which fate has denied to me!'

`Brother!'

`Do not urge me, Howard! My mind is made up! The decision
is a painful one, but it may not be revoked. The day after
to-morrow I leave for Europe!'

The brothers stood together a moment in silenc, both gazing
seaward, but with absent looks, when Howard suddenly said,

`Promise me, Duncan, that you will wait one week before you
proceed to fulfill your intentions!'

`The sooner I leave the scenes that continually remind me of
Isabel, the better it will be for me,' he answered with melancholy.

`Yet promise me what I wish, brother! I have a reason deeply
involving your happiness, in asking it.

`I promise then to delay my departure a week, but on the condition
you pledge me your honor, Howard, that in the interval,
you will not make any effort to influence the mind or feelings of
Miss Sumpter in my behalf!'

`I cheerfully give you the pledge you wish, Duncan,' answered
Howard. `Now let us change the subject. How beautiful the
effect of the numerous changing lights from the vessels in the
Roads, as they flash out or glimmer along the water! I wish, instead
of idling at home here, I had been attached to our infant
navy. I burn with ambition to distinguish myself in the war
with Tropoli; and wish I was now on board yonder fleet. I love
the sea; and the bay has been as much my home as the forests
here!'

`And I have always thought I should like the sea,' answered
Duncan. `You know before I went to college, application was
made by father for a midshipman's warrant for me, which was denied
by the party in power, because he had taken no part in the
Revolution, and was suspected of Toryism. If I could now get
it, under this administration, I would accept it to-morrow and sail in
this fleet! I will have my father write to Washington city to-morrow!'
he concluded with animation. `I want action!'

The young men walked together homeward, conversing on various
subjects, and affectionately parted for the night. Howard went
to his chamber and taking from a drawer a lock of hair, and one
or two trinkets (gifts of love) from Isabel, and pressing them to
his lips with affectionate tenderness, he placed them in a locket
which he bound close to his heart. He then waited until the
house was still, and then stole softly to the apartment of his parents,
both of whom he kissed tenderly while they slept and bade
them farewell! He then sought his brother's chamber, whom he
found in fitful sleep, often murmuring the name of Isabel He
stood and gazed on his fevered brow a moment, and then leaving
a fraternal kiss there, softly left the room.

He then took his way silently from the house and walked rapidly
in the direction of the cliff. Here he lingered a moment and fixed

his eye on the indistinctly seen squadron in the Roads.

`Yonder lies my way!' he said in a decided tone. `The fleet
sails not without me! Now, Isabel, one farewell to thee!'

`He took his way to the mansion by the path through the woodlands.
All was repose around. He well knew the casement of
her room and he stole beneath it! It was closed and a faint light
shone through the blinds. He listened all was still. At this moment
the wind gently swung back the blind. She was asleep but
pale! He saw her lips move and knew his name was murmured.
A negro woman was seated by her bedside sleepily, or quite asleep,
waving to and fro above her young mistress's head a plume of
peacock feathers. He obeyed the impulse of his nature and entered.
He stood a moment bending over her as she slept. It was
like the calm repose of an infant. He knelt by her side and kissed
her brow and lips. He then rose and said `farewell, Isabel! I
leave thee, but I can never forget thee! Be happy thee and Duncan!
for great is the sacrifice I make!'

He again kissed her and was turning away when he heard her
articulate his name. He looked back; but she still slept, and he
knew that she dreamt of him, and his soul was both happy and sad!

From the house he took his way to the beach and soon arrived at
a fisherman's cabin, which stood in a secluded spot under the brow
of the precipice and near the gorge from which the stag had
emerged when pursued by Isabel and her father. The cabin was
silent, and after he had knocked several times he was satisfied it
was untenanted.

“Paul has gone out to fish! But why do I wish to see him!
What I do must be done with secrecy and without a confidant!
I will find a skiff somewhere on the beach and go out myself! But
the absence of the skiff will betray my destination. She must
believe me dead! I will take no boat, but swim out to the nighest
vessel, which is not more than a mile and a quarter!'

He had no sooner come to this determination, than with the impulsive
decision of his character, he hastened to a rocky ledge,
which extended a little way into the sea, from whence, after divesting
himself of his outer clothing, he fearlessly cast himself into
the waves. With a strong arm and a determined spirit he struck
out towards the anchored fleet, and for sometime made rapid headway.
But he soon fell into a current setting strongly out from the
river which carried him far to leeward of the fleet, which he soon
found, with his most streneous efforts, he should be unable to reach.
He therefore, being greatly fatigued by his exertions, suffered himself
to float, borne by the current in the direction of a promontary a
league eastward of the point from whence he had started. Here
he landed just at day break, having been five hours in the water, so
overcome with fatigue, weariness and disappointment, that he
threw himself down in a nook in the rocky shore and fell asleep.

When he awoke it was with a sensation of freshness and vigor,
that showed him he must have slept a long time; and on rising
and looking round, he saw that it was near the afternoon. With a
sinking of the heart, he glanced in the direction of the Road, and
to his confusion and surprise, not a vessel remained at the anchorage.
He hastened to the summit of the headland, and turned his
eyes seaward, in which direction he beheld just on the verge of the
horizon, two or three of the slowest sailers of the fleet! He uttered
an exclamation of the keenest disappointment, and was inflicting
upon himself the severest censure, when his eyes fell on a vessel
northward, slowly standing down towards the coast. He watched
this sail with intense interest for more than an hour, and was satisfied
that it was the brig of war which had been attached to the
Tripolitan Squadron. This discovery gave him new hope; and as
the brig seemed to be standing off and on, as if waiting for communication
with some part of the shore to the west of him, he resolved
to make an attempt to get on board of her. About five
o'clock he saw her come to a league above him, and he determined
to reach her before night, if it was in the power of man to do it.

There was no boat any where within sight, and he traversed the
beach a mile eastward, without discovering one. He retraced his
steps, and proceeded along the coast towards his own house, until
fearful of being discovered, he hid himself and resolved to wait till
dark, and then calculating for the current, go above her and swim
off, and reach her, or perish in the attempt.

While he was watching her from his covert, he saw her fire a
gun, and soon afterwards the boat put off and return with the Consul.
He then saw her square away, and stand down along the
shore.

`Now I can reach her, if I make my calculations correctly for
the drift of the current,' he said with animation.

As he flew towards the water, he picked up a paddle, which he
retained to help him in swimming. On the beach he found a heavy
plank, which had drifted there.

`This with the paddle will be all I shall want,' he said with delight.
`It will give me height out of the water at least, and I shall
be seen by them if I can get nearer!'

He then launched the plank which just supported his weight,
and paddled himself on this frail vessel boldly out into the bay, so
as to intersect the course of the brig, which was slowly drifting,
their being not wind enough to fill her royals. Before he reached
her, however, the wind rose, as we have seen, and the vessel began
rapidly to glide away from his grasp. But his final success in
getting on board, has been witnessed by us all.

The sacrifices thus generously made and persevered in by this
noble hearted young man, cannot be too highly regarded! It was
perfect in its plan, and complete in its results. No obstacle defeated
it! no delay or disappointment or danger, prevented him
from carrying it into effect. Yet he loved her he thus fled from, no
less than Duncan loved her. But his love for his brother, his desire
for his happiness, united with a feeling of injustice towards him in
unintentionally stealing from him Miss Sumpter's heart, inspired
him to this step, and gave him resolution to go through with. All
he now wished was, that he might be supposed to be drowned. He
felt pain at the idea of the grief with which such an idea must
overwhelm Isabel, and in imagination, saw her weep inconsolably
for his loss. But he cheered himself with the reflection that time
would soon heal her sorrow, and that her recusant heart would
return to its first attachment, and that she would be happy, and
restore happiness to the bosom of his brother. And with a manly
resolve, to try and think of her henceforth only as his brother's
wife, he set himself to his duty on board.

The course before him, he cared not what it might be, so that it
were adventures and full of action. He was not reckless, and did
not feal so; for the act which had then cast him upon the world,
was his own, and performed for the noblest end, and with the
noblest purpose! He did not wish his name or family known, and
therefore gave the name of Howard only to the Captain of the Brig.
His whole aim was to be so lost to all his friends search, that he
should be believed to be dead—so that the only obstacle to his
brother's happiness might be removed. He did not intend, however,
to remain a common seaman, longer than the fleet should
get into active service, when he felt he could come his own way
to distinction.

The brig, the third day out overhauled the fleet, and the Consul
was placed on board the flag-ship. On the first of July the squadron
reached Gibraltar, and in a few days afterwards dispersed on
different cruising grounds; while the President frigate and the
brig of war, sailed for Tripoli, off which port the former made her
appearance towards the last of August. In the meanwhile the brig
had fallen in with a Tropolitan cruiser of fourteen guns, and after
a close action, within pistol shot, compelled her to strike. During
this engagement, Howard's bravery and gallant conduct, were
so conspicuous as to draw from the Captain, a public expression of
praise.

The armament of the prize was thrown overboard, and the vessel
given up to the Tripolitans, as the instructions of the commander
of the brig would not permit him to send her into port. The
brig then kept on her way towards Malta. The following evening
just at sun-down, as she was running down within two leagues
of the coast, under a light wind from the South West, a polacca
schooner was discovered creeping along close under the land, in
the direction of Tripoli. Captain Sterret immediately made sail
in chase, and as night set in, had drawn so near as to be able to
discover her to be a Tripolitan. As the wind was light and a strong
current was setting off the land, he found he should have to give
up the chase, as the polacca was propelled along by sweeps, or else
attack her in his boats. This he finally resolved to do. The first
and second cutters, and the launch were immediately manned and
despatched in shore in pursuit.

A low neck of land with here and there a group of date-trees,
upon it stretched along for several miles, with a rocky beach. Towards
this and into a sort of inlet making up the land, the polacca
was rapidly pulling. The first cutter took the lead and pulled
steadily in, until the increase of darkness rendered the polacca no
longer visible. But by listening, the heavy dash of her banks of
oars could be heard about a mile distant. This encouraged the
pursuing party, and with renewed vigor they pressed on in the
chase. At length the moon rose like a large shield of bronze from
the sea, and flung her golden light over land and water. By her
light, they discovered the polacca making her way up an inlet
which was separated from them by a ledge of black rocks. The
entrance was, after some difficulty discovered, and the boats dashed
boldly through. The inlet was small and on the side to the sea,
defended by a cliff of great height, which flung a dark shadow half
over its surface.

The commander of the boats detained them in the entrance of
this deep, dark gorge, till he could survey its character and the
position of the polacca, which seemed to be anchored not five hundred
yards distant close in with the shore. With his glass he discovered
that she was moored close to the rocks, and that her decks were
crowded with men. On the heights back he discovered what seemed
to be lines of walls, and the barricaded outlines of old Moorish
houses, with two or three tall palms towering above. After having
made his observations, he gave the order to advance and
board!

Simultaneously, with one movement, the armed boats shot forward,

and were soon within pistol shot of the polacre, when those
on board, after hurriedly and without effect discharging their firearms
took to the water and swam to the land, while those on board
the launch and first cutter poured in and took possession. The
second cutter, in which Howard pulled an oar, and which was
commanded by a midshipman, seeing the polacca captured, pulled
across her stern directly for the land.

`Way enough,' he cried, and the bows struck the beach.

He sprung out, followed by his crew, armed with pistols and sabres,
and followed up the hill in chase of the flying enemy. Howard
was foremost in the pursuit, and his eagerness carried him far
beyond the rest, who had been commanded to return to their boats
by an order from the captain. But he had got sight of a gorgeously
dressed Tripolitan, who had been watching from behind a rock
the fate of his vessel, and whom his approach had started to flight.
Supposing him to be the captain, Howard was anxious to pursue
and capture him. He therefore was heedless of the recall, and
dashed up the hill after him at full speed, with his drawn cutlass
in his hand.

He saw him disappear on the summit in a sort of walled enclosure,
into which he fearlessly followed him. It was a ruin. There
were no gates to the entrance, and the moonlight streamed in
through numerous windows upon the brick pavement. In the
midst was a ruined fountain, and around were galleries fallen into
decay. It was evidently a deserted Tripolitan castle, the sea villa of
some powerful Dey. He lost sight of the fugitive in the deep shadows
of the ruins, and was standing deliberating which way to advance,
when the man he was seeking, seeing he was alone, suddenly
reappeared from a recess, and attacked him with a scymeter. Howard,
though taken by surprise, defended himself with great bravery,
and more than once forced his antagonist, who was a splendid
swordsman, to retreat to the wall of the ruin. But the clash
of swords drew another man to the spot, when Howard, severely
wounded and overpowered by numbers, was compelled to yield.
He would have been slain upon the spot by the new comer, but for
the interposition of his antagonist, who, impressed by his youth
and gallantry, commanded him to save his life.

`You are brave, and you shall live,' he said to him in French,
with which Howard had been familiar from his nursery. `Ha!
they have fired your polacca, Rais,' he said to the man, a short,
fierce looking Moor. Your sea-cruisers are never safe. I will
ne'er trust another, while I can stride a horse. A good steed is
your only safety! Come, let us to the top of the ruin and see her
burn! The sight will perhaps help your philosophy.'

The Rais, or captain of the polacca, frowned, and fiercely curling
his mustache, turned on his heel and left the ruin; while
the other, bidding Howard follow him, walked to a spot whence a
view of the scene could be obtained. The atmosphere around grew
more lurid each moment, and at length they saw the cruiser beneath
them enveloped in flames, which shot up her masts and
wreathed themselves about the spars like serpents. The light
shone far and wide, and the brig was plainly seen lying to outside.
The boats of the brig were all visible to Howard, drawn at a little
distance off from her, but half a mile from him, the men lying on
their oars, watching the spectacle. In a few moments she exploded,
and filled the air with blazing fragments. The concussion
was felt at the ruin. The water around her was for an instant or
two dotted with blazing wood or cordage, and then all disappeared
in darkness, leaving the moon once more her empire of the night.
Suddenly the silence was broken by a loud shout from the Americans!
Having given nine cheers, they once more bent to their
oars and the three boats pulled out of the inlet to regain the brig.