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Ronald Morton, or the Fire Ships, a novel by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 28. Ronald Joins The "Imperious"... |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. RONALD JOINS THE "IMPERIOUS"--CHASE OF A FELUCCA--THE MARQUIS DE MEDEA-- THE SPANISH PRIEST--RONALD ASTONISHES THE PRIEST. The "Imperious" had been some time in the Mediterranean. She had not been idle, nor had her crew; that was not likely under such a captain as Lord Claymore. She had been up the Levant, and cruising among the Ionian Islands, and then back to Gibraltar, and had returned to Malta; and her blue-jackets and marines had landed on the Spanish and French coasts, and, as they had done before on the Biscay shores, had captured forts, destroyed barracks, and other public buildings, and burnt a town or two, and cut out merchant-men and armed vessels of all sorts; indeed, had done as much mischief as they possibly could. In all these proceedings Ronald Morton had greatly distinguished himself, and his captain promised him that he would not rest till he had obtained for him his rank as a commander. Morton was in better spirits than he had been for a long time. He was as ready as ever for any daring exploit, but he had no desire to throw his life away if he could help it; he had a fancy that there was something worth living for. The good Lord Collingwood so highly approved of the proceedings of the "Imperious," that he sent her back, after her return to Malta, to continue the same sort of employment. On the passage, when not far off Minorca, a large felucca was sighted, which, from her manoeuvres, was evidently anxious to avoid the frigate. Lord Claymore had received directions from the admiral to look out for a craft of this description, which was known to be a pirate, and to have committed innumerable atrocities. Chase was instantly made. The felucca on seeing this, and apprehending danger, rigged out her tall tapering lateen sails, wing-a-wing, as it is called, one on each side. She appeared like a graceful sea-bird, and did her utmost to escape. She sailed so well that there seemed a great possibility that she might effect this. The "Imperious," like some huge bird of prey, followed in her wake, resolved on her destruction. As yet the felucca was beyond the range of the frigate's bow-chasers. One shot from those long guns striking her masts or slender spars, would effectually have stopped her flight. Over the blue waters she flew; the officers and crew of the frigate were watching her. "She has an evil conscience, or she would not fly so fast," observed Glover. "Very likely; but like other rogues, she will escape the punishment she deserves," answered Hardman. "The wind is falling, that is in her favour." "Not if it fall altogether; we may take her with the boats," remarked Morton. "There is every sign of a calm." "She has sweeps, and it is extraordinary the rate at which these craft can pull," observed the pertinacious Hardman. "She has every chance of getting away from us." "Hardman is a wise fellow. He is always expecting blanks that he may enjoy the prizes the more when they turn up," said the surgeon. "He loses the pleasure of anticipation, though," said Morton. "That is too often greater than the reality." "Ah, but I am saved the disappointment of the reverse," answered the second-lieutenant. "See our courses are hanging against the mast, and the felucca has lost the wind altogether. She has got out her sweeps, and off she goes like a shot." Just then the captain called Morton. "We must take that fellow in the boats. Call away the crews of the pinnace and first and second cutters. Do not lose a moment. He will show fight, and it may save bloodshed to overawe him." The boats were instantly made ready, and in two minutes were pulling away full of armed men, and led by Morton to the attack of the felucca. The crew of that vessel did not for some time discover them, and continued as before urging her on at a rapid rate with their long sweeps, evidently hoping to escape. The boats, however, gained on them fast, and in a short time they were seen to lay in their long sweeps, finding, probably, that escape was hopeless, and to prepare for the attack. As the boats drew near, Ronald ordered them to separate so as to board at different parts of the vessel. Her deck was soon crowded with men, who, from their varied costumes, had a very suspicious appearance. Some were at their guns, others held cutlasses or pistols in their hands, threatening to make a stout resistance. One tall old man in a Spanish dress, with a huge white moustache and a long thin beard, stood on the companion hatch waving his sword, and with loud vociferations calling on his men to fight. As the boats got within hail, Morton rose and ordered the crew of the felucca to throw overboard their weapons and yield, for they showed no flag which could be hauled down as a sign of surrender. The answer was a round of grape and langrage from three guns, and a volley of musketry. The missels flew, whizzing and whistling close to his head. Happily he was unhurt; but two of his boat's crew were hit, and the side of the boat riddled in several places. The British seamen dashed on, and in another instant were clambering over the low bulwarks of the felucca. "What are we, who have been fighting with honest Frenchmen all our lives, to be dared by a set of cut-throats like you? Take that," exclaimed Job Truefitt, as he dealt a blow which nearly severed a pirate's head from his shoulder. The man fell dead, and Job and the rest springing on, the ruffians gave way, and many were driven overboard right across the deck, as a flock of sheep are swept away by a torrent. The old captain defended himself with all the fierceness of despair. He fought with the feeling that a rope was about his neck. Ronald at last reached him, and by a dexterous turn sent his sword flying over the side. The old man drew a pistol, but before he could fire it, Bob Doull, had sprung up at him, and, wrenching it from his hand, pulled him down to the deck. In vain he struggled, other seamen surrounded him, and he was secured. Several men of the pirate crew were driven overboard, and the rest leaped down below to avoid the cutlasses of the British. Some in the madness of their rage began to fire up at their captors. Fortunately, none of the latter were killed, or it would have fared ill with the pirates. Truefitt and others on finding this, leaped down among them, and singling out the culprits, bound them hand and foot, and bringing them on deck, threw them down with a kick in their sides, and an order to behave themselves. Soon after the din of battle was over, some cries were heard proceeding from a cabin in the after part of the vessel. Morton at once, knocking off the companion-hatch, followed by a midshipman and several more, leaped below. As the skylight hatch was on, the cabin was very dark, but there was light sufficient to enable him to distinguish two old men and a young lady struggling in the power of some of the pirate crew, who had apparently forced their way into the cabin from forward. The ruffians were soon hauled off from their intended victims, and secured, with a double allowance of kicks, on deck, while Morton busied himself with rendering what assistance he could to the young lady and her companions. They were Spanish he found by their dress and language. One was habited in the costume of an ecclesiastic. He was a thin, small old man, in whose sallow cheeks it seemed as if the blood could never have mantled, while from his calm exterior it could not have been supposed that he had just been rescued from imminent danger. The young lady, before Morton could reach her, had sunk down on a locker half-fainting. "Air, air!" she murmured out, "Oh, my father! see to him." The old man had sunk on the deck of the cabin. The priest stooped down to raise him up, while Ronald helped to knock off the skylight, and then went to the assistance of the young lady. The stream of fresh air which came from above helped to restore both daughter and father. They were then got upon deck, and the pure atmosphere, with a sight of the British flag, and their late masters bound hand and foot, soon completely restored them. The old gentleman was a fine looking Don of the ancient regime; the daughter, a perfect Spanish beauty, with raven hair and flashing eyes, and dark clear complexion. The old Don was profuse in his expressions of gratitude towards those who had rescued him from the hands of the pirates. He and his daughter, with his father confessor, the priest now present, had been travelling in France, when they heard that Spain was about to throw off the yoke of Bonaparte; and fearing that they should be detained, they got on board a small vessel to return to their own country. On their passage they had been attacked and captured by the felucca. "That we have escaped with our lives is a mercy, when we reflect what atrocious villains are those into whose hands we fell, and from whom you have so nobly rescued us. That captain--the sooner you hang him at your yard-arm the better. He cumbers the earth. It is a disgrace to humanity to allow him to live." "We do not execute people in England without a trial; if the captain of the felucca is found guilty, he will probably be hung," answered Morton, to whom this remark was made in French, a language the old Don spoke very well. Ronald did not altogether like his manner, or the expression of his countenance. The sweeps of the felucca had been got out, and the boats had also taken her in tow, and she was now rapidly approaching the frigate. During the time, Morton endeavoured to ascertain what he could about his new companions. Thinking that he might very possibly gain the information he wished for most easily from the priest, he took the opportunity of addressing him when out of hearing of the rest. "You and your friends must have suffered much while in the power of those ruffians," he remarked. "That old gentleman has not yet recovered; he seems from his manner to be a man of rank." "Yes; he is one of the old grandees of Spain," answered the priest. "May I ask his name? for I wish to address him properly," said Ronald. "Certainly," returned the priest. "He is known as the Marquis de Medea." "How strange!" exclaimed Morton, involuntarily, for he had heard that name frequently repeated at Lunnasting, and had been taught to consider the possessor of the title certainly not in a favourable light. The priest, as Ronald said this, gave him a glance as if he would look through him to his inmost soul, and yet he spoke softly and blandly as he asked, "Why so? Why strange, sir?" "It is a name I frequently heard in my boyhood," answered Ronald, not supposing that there was the slightest necessity for being on his guard with the mild-looking priest. "That is strange," repeated the priest. "Where was your boyhood passed, may I ask?" said the priest. Ronald told him, "Chiefly in the castle of Lunnasting, in Shetland." Again the priest gave a piercing glance at him. "May I inquire your name?" "I am called Ronald Morton." "You say you are called so. Will it appear impertinent if I ask if you believe that you have the right to bear another?" said the priest. "Why do you put the question?" was Ronald's very natural demand. "You said that you were called Morton. I fancied, from your tone, that you insinuated that you have a right to some other name," said the priest. "I may have some such idea; but at the same time I am perfectly contented with the one I bear." The priest appeared lost in thought. "Do you remember your father!" he asked, abruptly. "Certainly; he is, I trust, alive still. I hope to meet him shortly;" surprised at the way in which the priest continued to cross-question him. Some men would have been much annoyed, and refused to reply; but Ronald saw that his interrogator had some good reasons for putting the questions, and felt no inclination to disappoint him. "May I ask if you were ever considered like the lady of Lunnasting Castle? Donna Hilda, I think you called her," inquired the priest. "I have not, that I am aware of, mentioned her name," answered Morton, looking in his turn hard at the priest. "I will reply to your question, though, before I ask one in return. I have heard that I was like her, and that is not surprising; my mother was very like her--they were cousins. Now I must inquire how comes it that you know anything of the family of Lunnasting? Were you ever in Shetland?" "There are few parts of the world where I have not been. The members of my order go everywhere, and should know everything that takes place on its surface," answered the priest, evasively. "I do not recollect you in Shetland," said Ronald, "May I ask your name?" "I am called Father John," replied the priest, humbly. "I would yet further ask you, what you know respecting the Marquis de Medea?" Ronald considered whether he should reply. "There can be no harm in speaking the truth, surely," he said to himself. "I will tell you," he answered frankly. "The marquis is believed, at Lunnasting, at all events, to have inherited the estates which should rightly have belonged to the son of Don Hernan Escalante, the husband of the Lady Hilda of Lunnasting, as she is called in Shetland, the daughter of Sir Marcus Wardhill. Moreover, it is believed that, instigated by the present marquis, a pirate crew attacked the castle, and carried off the son of Donna Hilda, of whom I speak, the rightful heir to the title and estates of Medea." Never, probably, had the countenance of the priest exhibited so much astonishment, or indeed, any sentiment, as it did at present. "By what wonderful means have you become acquainted with what you have told me?" he asked. "By the simplest of all; by having been told by those who were acquainted with the facts," answered Ronald. "But how were they informed of those facts?" asked the priest, with increased interest. "They learned them from a Spanish naval officer, Pedro Alvarez by name, who was the lieutenant of Don Hernan. He had promised to assist his captain's widow and her infant son to the utmost of his power. He returned to Shetland for that purpose, and when he heard that the boy had been carried off, he sailed away in search of the pirate; he, however, never returned to Shetland, and it is believed that he perished before he accomplished his purpose. The young Escalante has never been discovered, though the poor Lady Hilda lives on in expectation of recovering her son." "No wonder that sacrilegious wretch, Pedro Alvarez, never returned to you. He was guilty of murdering one of the familiars of our most holy Inquisition. Had he ever caught the pirate he could not have returned to Spain, but must have been a wanderer on the face of the earth, with the mark of Cain on his brow." "I was a mere infant when he last came to Shetland, so that I have no personal recollection of him, but from what I have heard, he was very much liked by all with whom he associated," said Ronald. "Your heretical countrymen would probably think that killing an officer of the Inquisition was a very venial offence, and not look upon him with any horror on that account; but depend on it, an avenging Nemesis followed him to his grave, or will follow him, if he still lives," remarked the priest. "But we are now close to your ship. I would advise you not to let the marquis know that you are acquainted with that part of his history, which he would desire to keep secret. At first I thought that you were the son of Don Hernan, but I see that I was mistaken." As soon as the felucca was towed alongside the frigate, the prisoners, as well as the marquis and his daughter, and the priest, were removed on board. After inspecting the felucca, the captain resolved to keep her as a tender to the frigate, believing that she might be made very useful in capturing the enemy's merchantmen, as, from her rig, she might get close to them without being suspected. Lord Claymore highly commended Morton for the gallant way in which he had taken the vessel. "I scarcely know what to do with the prisoners," he observed. "We must not cut their throats, or hang them at the yard-arms, but that would be the simplest way of disposing of them, and they probably will not come to any better end." Ronald also told his captain all he had heard of the Marquis of Medea. "The old scoundrel!" was the answer. "However, he is our guest, and he has a lovely daughter; we must treat him politely." The most important information, however, was the statement made by the marquis, that Spain had at length declared herself independent of France, and formed a league with England. "It may be true, but we must not trust to it till we have more certain information," remarked Lord Claymore. The calm lasted long enough to have the felucca over-hauled, somewhat cleansed, and put in order. Glover was placed in command of her, with two midshipmen and twenty men. The prisoners were secured below on board the frigate, and sentries put over them, while Lord Claymore gave up a cabin to the young lady, and accommodated the marquis and the priest with cots in his own. It was very difficult to please the old marquis, who, notwithstanding the trouble taken to attend to his comfort, grumbled at everything--so much so, that Lord Claymore would have sent him on board the felucca to shift for himself, had it not been for his daughter, who showed herself contented and thankful for the kindness she and her father were receiving, while her brilliant smiles and joyous laughter proved that she was sincere in her expressions. The breeze came at last, and the frigate, followed by the little felucca, stood on towards the Spanish coast. In the course of his duty, Morton was going the round of the decks, when he heard a voice from among the prisoners calling to him in French: "A poor dying wretch would speak to you. Have pity, brave Englishman, and hear what he has to say!" "Who are you?" asked Morton. "I was captain of the felucca. I am now a criminal, expecting speedy death," returned the speaker. The master at arms held up the lantern he carried, and as its light fell on the countenance of the person who had addressed him, Morton recognised the old white-bearded captain who had made so desperate a resistance when his vessel was attacked. He had been lying at his length on some straw on the deck. He was now supporting himself on one arm that he might have a better look at the lieutenant as he passed. "What would you say to me?" asked Morton. "Many things, if you will listen to me," answered the old pirate. "I overheard part of your conversation with the priest. I know more about you than you suppose." "What can you know about me?" asked Morton, very much surprised. "Here are two persons I fall in with unexpectedly and both assert they know more about me than I do myself," he thought. "If you will have me removed out of earshot of my comrades, I will tell you," replied the old pirate. "We cannot speak in a language which some of them do not understand." Morton ordered the old man to be unshackled, and to be conducted to another part of the deck. After he had gone his rounds, he returned and took a seat on a bucket by his side. "Thanks, sir, for this kindness," said the old pirate; though as he spoke Ronald rather doubted his sincerity. "It is not thrown away. You see before you a victim to circumstances. I have done many evil deeds-- many things of which I repent--but necessity drove me to commit them; poverty, that stern task-master, urged me on--not inclination, believe me. I say this that you may not look at me with the disgust that you might otherwise do. However, I am not now going to give an account of my life--I may some day, if you desire it; simply I will tell you who I am. You know already who the old man is whom I took prisoner." "I should like to know who you are," said Ronald. "I am, then, the celebrated Don Annibal Tacon," said the old man, in a tone of no little conceit. "I have made my name famous in most parts of the world. For some reason or other, however, my enterprises have not been as successful as they ought, and I have continued in the same state of poverty in which I began life. I say this as an excuse for myself, and to excite your compassion. It is not the matter on which I wish to speak to you. I have, since my early days, been acquainted with the Marquis de Medea. He, too, led a wild life in his youth; and there are many things he did which he would not like mentioned. Many years ago, when you were but a child, he encountered me in Cadiz. Promising me a large reward, and giving me a handsome sum as an earnest of his intentions, he engaged me on a hazardous and daring enterprise. It was no less than to sail to the North of England--to the islands of Shetland--and to carry off from a castle, situated on the shores of one of them, a child, the son of a certain Captain Don Hernan Escalante. I see you are interested in my account; you may well be so. I heard you speaking of that castle. I accomplished my errand. I attacked the castle, bore away the child, and purposed to return to Cadiz to receive my reward, and to learn what the noble marquis wished as to the disposal of the boy. I had some idea, indeed, of concealing him, and employing him to wring from the marquis the gold which I might require. My plans were, however, frustrated. I was driven by a gale nearly across the Atlantic, and so many British cruisers swarmed in all directions, that I was continually driven back whenever I attempted to approach the Spanish coast. At length a Spanish vessel hove in sight. As she drew nearer, I recognised her as a corvette commanded by an officer I knew, Pedro Alvarez by name. I at first thought she was a friend, but, by the way she approached, I suspected she had hostile intentions. I endeavoured to make my escape, for I have always held that men should never fight if they can help it. That is to say, if an enemy has a rich cargo on board, a wise man may fight to capture it; but if he himself has anything of value on board, he will fly to preserve it, and only fight when he cannot preserve it by any other means. "The corvette bore down upon us, and so well did she sail, that I found escape impossible. She ran me aboard; and Pedro Alvarez and half his crew, leaping down on my decks, drove my people before them; he fought his way into the cabin--there was the infant, on the possession of whom I rested the hopes of my future support. He seized it, and hurrying back to his own vessel, called his people to follow him, and then, casting my craft free, he stood away to the eastward, without firing a shot at my vessel, seeming content with the mischief he had already done me. Believing that he would at once go back to Spain, denounce the marquis, and proclaim me as his tool, I dared not return to Cadiz. I therefore sailed for the West Indies, and employed myself in an occupation which I found tolerably lucrative, seeing that all the transactions were for ready money, though it must be owned that it was somewhat hazardous. Some people might call it piracy. It was not till long afterwards, when I was paying a visit to Cadiz, that I learned that Pedro Alvarez was himself an outlaw, that he had not returned to Cadiz, and that neither he nor his ship had ever again been heard of. "From the words which reached my ears while you were talking to that wily priest, I have an idea that you are no other than the son of Don Hernan and the lady of that northern castle. By whatever means you got back there, my evidence will be of value to prove that you are the child I carried off. I have no doubt about it; I would swear to the fact. Let us be friends, then. You assist to preserve my life; I will help you to obtain your rights as the Marquis de Medea, and to become the master of the immense estates belonging to the family." The old villain looked up into the young officer's face, expecting a favourable reply. Ronald was almost inclined to laugh at his outrageous audacity and cunning. "You are entirely mistaken as to whom I am," he answered. "The child you carried off from Lunnasting was never brought back. I cannot even tell you if he is still alive; but whether or not, I have no power to make any bargain with you. You must abide by the consequences of your misdeeds." "I have always done that," answered the pirate, with an humble look. "From my youth up till now I have been an unfortunate man. I hope some day the tide will turn; but there is not much time left for that." Ronald made no reply. He resolved to tell the captain all he had heard; and on going aft he left directions that the old prisoner should be strictly watched, and not allowed to communicate with any one. As Ronald could not speak to Lord Claymore in the cabin lest he should be overheard, he waited till he came on deck. "A pretty set of scoundrels!" was Lord Claymore's remark. "That cunning priest, too, depend on it, has a finger in the pie. A curious coincidence there is, too, in your own history, and in that of the story you have just told me. You want to find out to what family you belong, and here is a title, estates, and fortune, waiting to be filled by the rightful heir, if he can be found." Though the captain entertained a considerable amount of contempt for the marquis, for the sake of his daughter he treated him with his usual courtesy. He felt that he should be very glad to get him out of the ship; still, by keeping him on board, he might possibly gain some information which might prove useful in establishing the claims of Hilda Wardhill's son to the property of his father. The most important object was to discover if that son was alive, and where he was, and what had become of Pedro Alvarez. Lord Claymore and Ronald talked the subject over with such intense eagerness, that the latter almost forgot his own interests in the desire he felt to be of service to one whom he justly looked on as his patroness and the protectress of his youth. The homicide of the familiar of the Inquisition fully accounted for Pedro's not returning to Spain; while as that country had been for so many years at war with England, he might have found it impossible to send him back to Shetland. He might have written, to be sure, but the letters might have miscarried. Nothing was more probable. It was too likely, however, that both he and the boy were lost. Still Lord Claymore hoped the contrary, and, perhaps, his anxiety was not a little increased by the satisfaction he anticipated in ousting the rascally old marquis from his estates and rank. The coast of Spain was soon after made, and the active operations in which the ship was engaged allowed the captain or Morton very little time to think of that or any other subject. _ |
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