University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.

Silently, and moving like a spectre of the waters, the schooner
glided along the dark and savage shores, sometimes obscured by the
shadows of the rocks, at others reappearing with the faint grey beams
of the shorn moonlight gleaming upon her upper sails; not far from
the mouth and almost lying at the base of the fort-rock, stretched
before them a low broken beach on the extremity of which was visible,
as they rounded the point, a white circular battery. It stood out
in fine relief in the moonbeams, and in the indistinct light seemed
to the eyes of Carleton to be bristling with guns.

“How is this, Morris,” he said quickly; “what fortress are we
coming upon? We are fairly caught.”

“No,” answered Græme coolly. “This is a fort built some
time before the late war, but has never been used, the fortress on
the height so fully commanding it. It is a pretty affair, and looks
formidable by moonlight.”

“Had I been sailing into this river alone, I should certainly
have put about on coming thus upon it,” said Carleton, as they
glided past within a hundred yards of its yawning embrasures.

“This is a lovely, wild scene, Edward,” said a sweet voice at his
side; “and there is something in the danger that your purpose
hither associates with it, that inspires awe as I gaze. How smiling
in the moon this low round fort appears, with the grass
waving above it, contrasted with the dark and savage grandeur of
the frowning battlements above and almost overhanging it. That
height seems the throne of the battle-god.”

“You are a romantic person, dear Eve,” said Carleton, suffering
her arm to rest on his, and her soft hand to steal for the pressure
of his own.

“I learned to be so from you, dear Carleton. It was you that
first opened my eyes and my heart to the beauties of nature. You
taught me to love the roar of the cascade, to gaze with awe upon
the rocky cliffs, and to love the beautiful and the sublime in all
that our native river presented. And from loving nature I learned
to love you as my spiritual nature. My spirit went inward, and
there found a new earth to love, of which, that you had taught me
to love, was but the shadow. Thou wert my world for my heart's
abiding home.”

“And you found it, Eve, a world of storms and earthquakes;
all unfair and unlovely; its hosom uptorn with whirlwinds of passion,
and itself often forced from its true orbit by its own inward
convulsions.”

“Yet as I delighted to listen to the roar of the water-fall, to gaze
on the wild whirlpool of wrathful waters, to rejoice in the careering
storm and feel a pleasure in witnessing the fierce uproar of the
elements, even as I enjoyed the lovely and the peaceful in nature's
serenest mood, so have I loved, yet with awe, ever, dear Edward,
the wild warfare in your own impetuous nature. I loved not earth
less for its storms and clouds, nor have I loved thee less. Man's
soul is the mirror that reflects the material earth. God has so decreed
and adapted the two, for what vast end in the future we may
not fathom. But we do find the type of all our passions in the
elements and their results.”

“I think I understand your idea, Eve. It is a singular one, and
something within me assures me of its truth. But see how sternly
and warningly towers this fortress upon us. What type within
my soul—your world, Eve—does this represent?” asked Carleton
smiling.

“The spirit of menacing resistance. If thou couldst embody
that attribute of thy moral nature in matter, it would assuredly
take that shape, or a similar.”

“Rather that of the rock of Gibraltar; for I feel the spirit of
menacing resistance is as vast and mighty, and strong and eternal
as that throne of war's power and strength. But let us discuss this
matter another time, Eve,” he said, narrowly watching the frowning
fortress, which rose nearly above their heads. “To your cabin,
lest danger should fall upon you—for our object here may not be accomplished
in perfect security, as Morris thinks.”

“Nay—I will remain on deck and watch you,” said Eve firmly.

“I fear no danger.”

“Morris, come hither,” said Carleton in a low tone. “Do you
not see the figure of a man reclined against the outline of the south
battlement of that fort? We are likely to find here some persons
to object to our carrying away your guns.”

Morris looked a moment, then sprang for his glass and levelled
it at the object.

“It is a man seated on a gun in an embrasure of the fort. I
see but one, and he does not look like a soldier. He has disappeared.
What can this mean? I could have sworn a human being
would not have been within a league of it.”

“Could our purpose have been betrayed? But no—this is impossible.”

“The fort may have been manned since I was here a few weeks
ago. At all events, this looks suspicious, and we must act warily.
There is no one else to be seen. We are now so near that I could
see a crow if one were sitting on the top of the fort. Yet there is
some one there, and what his purpose can be unless to guard the
place, I cannot conceive.”

“If there is one then, there are more than one!” said Carleton.
“Forts are not usually given in charge of a single man!”

“We will soon know,” said Morris. “I will stand on; for our
character cannot be suspected, and if we find resistance we must
meet it as we best can. I can depend upon the twenty men we
have!”

“The guns we must have, at whatever risk,” said Carleton, with
decision. “I am well wearied of this being at sea unarmed, as
helpless and unfit for service as a Marblehead mackerel catecher. Let
her stand on and let the issue be put in fortune's hands. As we
approach nearer I can discover nothing upon the fort. No further
signs of its being held are visible. This must have been, I think
a delusion after all, Morris.”

“No. I distinctly recognized a human figure. It was bareheaded
and seemed half naked, as it appeared to me!”

“Then some wild man of the woods, perhaps, who haunts the
spot,” said Carleton, laughing. “I have heard of such persons.
How beautiful the deep repose of the frowning terrace, Eve”'

“I am enjoying in my heart all the grandeur and beauty of the
scene! How dark and solemn is the black, impenetrable shade
beneath yonder fir-crowned cliff side. It seems like the palace of
night—the womb of darkness! and see we are gliding into it!”

“We anchor beneath the cliff in the deep shadow there!” said
Morris from the helm. “As we come nearer we shall find a path
winding from the water up to the fort. We can lay close along
side of the rock as the water is ten fathom deep.”

“If the fort is manned, we are now at least too far under their
guns to be injured,” said Carleton as the Sea Slipper glided towards
the calm, sheltered spot indicated by Morris Græme, bringing
the fortress each moment farther above their heads, until at
length it was no more visible. In a few moments afterwards the
schooner lay close to the cliff with her sails, not one of which had
been lessened, unmoved by a breath of air.

“We shall have to two out of this black-hole,” said Carleton
as the schooner came gently to and ceased further motion with
its how against the side of the precipice. Have the boats down
and attached with oars in all ready, if we should have to do it in a
hurry. If this was in the West Indies, Morris, I should say we
were in for a pretty adventure.”

“Be assured we shall find no one in the fort. I will take half
the men and lead, as I am familiar with the path. The rest better
remain in charge of the schooner, in case of surprise.”

The Sea-Slipper was now secured by her hawsers to the rock,
both at the bows and stern, as snugly as if she had been lying at
a pier. Planks were passed from the waist to the rock, where the
hscent commenced. It was decided that Morris should take the
lead with ten men, and on ascertaing that the way was clear, he
was to give the signal, when Carleton with eight of the remainder
was to follow him, the men bearing the ropes and necessary tackle
for removing the guns.

Morris Græme sprung ashore with a light adventurous spirit
characterestic of him in action and danger, followed by his men,
He had his own pistols which he had retained, and brought on
board with him at New York, as also had Carleton. Some
of his men had a single pistol each, and others were armed with
knives, harpoons, or capstan-bars, as they could collect them on
board. Certainly a party less poorly armed, never disembarked
on such an expedition. With slow toil Morris ascended the stony
and steep path, through over-shading pines, which intercepted
every ray of light. But as they ascended farther, the path turned
off to the right, and became less steep as it wound round the rock.
At length he suddenly emerged above the trees, into an opening
within a few feet of the base of the fortress. It towered above
him in stern silence. He listened, and stillness only reigned. All
was buried in the repose of night, with the soft radiance of the
moon shining upon its walls, giving a deeper character to its peaceful
calm. His glance narrowly ranged the whole breadth of the
walls, but neither ear nor eye could detect any signs of the presence
of man. Half inclined to adopt Carleton's suggestion that
he had been deceived, he waved his hand to his men to advance
again, and then with a confident and familar step, passed rapidly
beneath the walls to a gate on the north side. It had fallen in;
and the appearance of every thing around, indicated the fort to
have remained undisturbed since he had visited it on his late excursion
to his native town, not far distant. He now hastened his
steps, and leaping across the dilapidated gate-way, was at once in
the midst of the deserted fortification. He paused a moment, inspired
with a feeling of awe by the deep repose of the place and
the hour. The moon streamed in through the embrasures casting
half the interior in gloomy indistinctness. In a moment or two
the influence passed off, and looking round and seeing with a
glance that the guns were all there, he hastened to the battlements
and with a shout gave the signal to Carleton. It was returned
from the deck of the schooner below in her Captain's clear tones,
now elevated with exultation, and the hope of once more dancing
the billows of the wide sea, with an armed vessel beneath his proud
tread.

“Nay, Eve, you must not follow me,” he said kindly.

“But there is no danger. Besides, I have made a vow in my
heart, and sworn by my love, that I will not leave you. I have
wronged you, Edward, in being jealous—for I was jealous, but for
a wicked moment only. After your kindness to me the last few
days, I can never believe you false, or that you do not love me.
Let me go with you. I want to enjoy the wide prospect from the
summit—of island, sea and shore.”

“Have thy pretty will, Eve,” said Carleton playfully. “You
are true and faithful, and I should be a brute to cross you in your
wishes.”

There was something in this remark, which was both pleasing
and painful to her; but she feared to analyse it, and so looking on
its pleasanter side alone, she smiled and bounded with him to the
shore.

“You will ask the Captain for me,” said a voice near her, and
only heard by her. She looked round and saw by her side the
handsome lad whom Carleton had made his steward.

“Yes, you shall go, Little Belt,” she said with cheerfulness.—
“Edward let Belt leave the schooner to have a climb upon the
rocks. He merits it, he has made himself so useful.”

“If you wish it, Eve,” answered Carleton; and the boy grasping
her hand bounded before her up the path, and was soon far
out of sight.

“What an affectionate yet strange boy he is,” she said after a
moments' silence, as they climbed the height, her arm clinging to
Carleton's.” Little Belt can't be his true name, either. How came
you by him on board?”

“I never saw him till he was on board. He came in with the
other men. Morris probably knows him.”

“I will ask him about him,” she said as they at length emerged
in full view of the walls of the fort, and beheld Græme standing
by a gun upon the battlements watching their ascent.

“It is all as I expected, Carleton. The fort is unoccupied, and
the man I saw must have been an apparition, or a delusion. But I
could swear he was bare headed! Heaven defend us! here he is
again!” cried the young lieutenant starting aside from the embrasure
in which he stood, with alarm and surprise, as a half naked,
wild figure sprung to his feet from beneath the gun where he had
been unobserved in the deep shadow, and seized him by the arm.—
Carleton and Eve both started at the sight and gazed upon him
with wonder as he stood, tall, wild and demoniac upon the defined
outline of the fortress, his gray hair streaming, his chest naked—
the moonlight gleaming ghastly upon his haggard countenance
in which his eyes glowed like volcanoes! Eve recoiled with fear,
and Carleton gazed with horror.

“Who and what art thou?” demanded Græme endeavoring to
throw the mad-man off.

“My daughter! hast thou brought back my daughter?” fiercely
cried the maniac “Thou shalt not go till thou hast brought back
my daughter!” and he suddenly threw his arms closely round him
and involved him in his embrace, while he yelled in a voice between

grief and rage, “I have thee now—I have thee close! Thou
art mine, and thou shalt be hell's till thou give me back my child
—my child!”

“Help—for God's sake Carleton, help! I am without power to
move in his iron grasp. Hasten round to the gate and come and
release me from this demon! He will hurl me from the precipice!”

Carleton obeyed and flew along the path followed by Eve. He
sprang past the men who were standing immovable, completely
paralyzed by this strange and sudden spectacle, and leaping upon
the grass-grown battlement he hastened around the rampart to the
precipitous quarter where Morris stood struggling with the madman.

In the meanwhile the maniac continued to make his wild thrilling
appeals to him for his child.

“I know nothing of thy child! Release me, demon, or I will
hurl thee from the rock!” cried Morris with mingled fury and fear.

“Ha, ha, ha! thou liest—thou hast my daughter! Give me
back my daughter! I am mad for my child!—I am crazed for my
lost one!” Here his manner suddenly changed. He released him
and knelt before him. “Give her to me, Morris Græme, and I
will recall the father's curse that now is on thy head! Oh, return
her to me and I will bless thee!”

Carleton and Eve had come near and seeing that Morris was released,
they stopped and listened.

“How knowest thou me by name, old man?” demanded Græme
hoarsely.

“Thou dost not know me, then? Hast thou torn so many
daughter's from their homes' that thou shouldst be at a loss for the
father's name when he appeals to thee?” said the other rising to
his feet and regarding him with a flashing eye. “My daughter!
I demand her at thy hand! I will not kneel to thee! Give me
back my child I say! Return to me my lost Ellen!”

“Ellen!” repeated Græme, from the very depths of his being,
as if the sound of that name had moved the foundation of his
guilty soul. He gazed on the face of the mad-man and through all
the degradation of form and wreck of mind he recognized the father
of her he had wronged. He trembled and became visibly
pale, and fell back a step from the menacing air and fixed gaze of
the demoniac.

There followed a silence unbroken save by the low dashing of
the waves against the island shore, which lasted several minutes.
Græme seemed rooted to the spot. Who can paint the horrors of
his conscience in those still moments of reflection, with the fearful
supernatural gaze of the lunatic upon him? He seemed arraigned
to judgment before his time. Carleton would have rushed
forward and relieved Morris from the presence of the man, but
Eve said—

“No, let us see the issue! If Morris Græme hath done this
wrong, this is God's judgment and we may not interfere.” Carleton
suffered himself to be guided by her, but her words deeply
troubled his own thoughts. At length Morris Graæme spoke—
for he could not longer endure the fascinating look of the burning
eyes upon him. He spoke soothingly; but his voice trembled.

“Of thy daughter, good man, I know nothing. Thou shouldst
seek her elsewhere than of me.”

“Thou liest,” shouted the mad-man! “Thou canst not deceive
a lunatic, for the God who hath taken away his reason hath
left in its place a sagacity that laughs at reason! I can read thy
thoughts, and to my burning brain they are written upon thy
black heart in letters of blood! Thou knowest where my child is!
Give her to me or I will tear thy heart from thy foul throat!”

Quicker than thought, and ere his purpose was anticipated, the
mad-man caught Morris again in the same terrific embrace as before.
The young man felt his hot breath upon his face, and the
glare of his eyes which burned like furnaces seemed to scorch his
brain. He was nearly mad! He struggled, but vainly, to disengage
himself. But the strength of the maniac was like that of
three men.

“Nay, then, fiend of hell! if thou wilt but let me go, I will tell
thee of thy daughter,” he gasped.

Instantly he was unclasped, and just as Carleton had again advanced
to release him, who a second time was with held by Eve. The
mad-man's manner changed to a quiet bearing; and clasping his
hands together he bent eagerly forward in an attitude to hear.

“She is in New York. Six days since I left her there. She
will probably be at home, as I left a note with her, saying I should
not return to her, and that she had best go back to you.” Morris
ceased. The father remained a moment, silently regarding him.
He then spoke musingly as if to himself:

“Home! you said home! This place is now her home. The
sound of the sea will be her lullaby—for her singing mother is
dead. If she would come to me, she must come hither to me; for
here is my only home. Ha! and what hast thou to do here?” he
fiercely demanded; “here in my house! Wouldst thou bring woe
and madness and burning hell here? Thou hast cursed with thy
presence one fair home, and what dost thou here? But thou shalt
not defile this sanctuary of the God-afflicted. This spot is sacred
to madness and woe! 'Tis the home hallowed by woe, woe, woe!
The whisting winds howl woe! the lashing waves shriek woe!—
the wild sea-bird screams woe! a thousand demons dance on every
rock and sit in every tree, and cry nothing but woe! Oh, 'its a
sweet woeful place! and 'tis my home! What dost thou in it, defiler?
I will hurl thee into the sea!”

With an air and gesture significant of the purpose he expressed
in his fierce language, he leaped towards the young man, who, anticipating
his intention, retreated and sprang across an embrazure
behind him. The mad-man, excited by the appearance of flight,
shrieked fiercely and bounded after him. Morris stopped with
a curse upon his lips, drew his pistol from his belt and levelled it
at him. Heedless of it the lunatic rushed onward, and Morris fired.

“Take thy death, then, if thou will have it, mad-man!”

The maniac staggered, pressed his hand to his temples, from
which the blood poured as if from a fountain, and then recovering
himself, made a feartul leap forward, and a third time Morris
Græme found himself clasped in his embrace.

“Now, by my soul, Eve, I must to his rescue,” exclaimed Carleton.

“See! behold! they will go over the cliff! Oh God! this is
terrible!” she suddenly shrieked, covering her eyes and ears with
both her hands.

The grasp of the lunatic was the grasp of death. Græme realized
all his danger. He struggled for life, while the mad-man
strove fearfully to hurl him over the battlements, mumbling all the
while indistinct maledictions. He foamed at the mouth, and Morris
was bathed in the hot life-blood that streamed from the wound
in his temples. For a few moments the contest for the mastery
was terrific to witness. The battlements seemed to tremor beneath
the feet of the two men. The mad-man strove, inspired
with vengeance—Morris for love of life. Carleton involuntarily
paused to witness the issue, when suddenly, after a terrible struggle
down on the ground, both stood suspended above the precipice.
Each had a foot braced upon the verge! Both eyed each other in
menacing silence! The least movement would hurl them both into
the rocky bed beneath! With breathless a we all looked on without
power to stir to aid them. It was at this moment that Eve shrieked.
It was instantly echoed by a shriek wilder still!

Startled by the shriek, and its wilder echo, the mad-man released
his hold of Græme, exclaiming—“”Tis Ellen, my child! my
child!”

Morris feeling himself free from him, with a difficult effort recovered
his footing; but in the act he so suddenly threw the lunatic
from him that he reeled on the verge, where, balancing himself,
he stood an instant between earth and air, stretching forth his
hands towards a female form that suddenly appeared before all eyes
upon the battlement.

“Bless thee, my child, thou hast come at last to thy father!—
I forgive—Blessings on—th—”

His last words were lost in air. With a dead, heavy, headlong
plunge he disappeared over the battlement into the void beneath!

How still all stand and listen! The sound of his fall as his body
bounds from rock to rock is all that breaks the awful silence of that
moment. Hark! that heavy dash into the dark waters tells the
tale! This sound has ceased; and the silence of the night is only
broken by the deep, long drawn breathing of those left standing on
the battlement.