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In Honour's Cause: A Tale of the Days of George the First, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 46. Au Revoir |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY SIX. AU REVOIR About a fortnight after the events related in the last chapter a little scene took place on board a fishing lugger, lying swinging to a buoy in one of the rocky coves of the Cornish coast. A small boat hung behind, in which, dimly seen in the gloom of a soft dark night, sat a sturdy-looking man, four others being seated in the lugger, ready to cast off and hoist the two sails, while, quite aft on the little piece of deck, beneath which there was a cabin, stood four figures in cloaks. "All ready, master," said one of the men in a singsong tone. "Tide's just right, and the wind's springing up. We ought to go." "In one minute," said one of the gentlemen in cloaks; and then he turned to lay his hands upon the shoulders of the figure nearest to him: "Yes, we must get it over, Frank. Good-bye, God bless you, boy! We are thoroughly safe now; but I feel like a coward in escaping." "No, Gowan," said the gentleman behind him. "We can do no more. If they are to be saved, our friends will do everything that can be done. Remember they wish us gone." "Yes; but situated as I am it is mad to go. You have your son, thanks to the efforts of the Prince and Princess. I have to leave all behind. Frank boy, will you let me go alone? will you not come with me, even if it is to be a wanderer in some distant land?" Frank uttered a half-strangled cry, and clung to his father's hands. "Yes, father," he said, in a broken voice; "I cannot leave you. I'll go with you, and share your lot." "God bless you, my boy!" cried the captain, folding him in his arms. "There," he said the next minute, in decisive tones, "we must be men. No; I only said that to try if you were my own true lad. Go back; your place is at your mother's side. Your career is marked out. I will not try to drag you from those who are your friends. The happy old days may come for us all again, when this miserable political struggling is at an end. Frank," he whispered, "who knows what is in the future for us all?" Then quite cheerfully: "Good-bye, lad. I'll write soon. Get back as quickly as you can. Say good-bye to Colonel Forbes and Drew." "Good-bye--good-bye!" cried Frank quickly, as he shook hands, and then was hurried into the little boat, his father leaning over from the lugger to hold his hand till the last. That last soon came, for the rope was slipped from the ring of the buoy as one of the sails was hoisted, the lugger careened as the canvas caught the wind, and the hands were suddenly snatched apart. The second sail followed, and the lugger seemed to melt away into the gloom, as the boat softly rose and fell upon the black water fifty yards from the rocky shore. "Good-bye!" came from out of the darkness, and again, "Good-bye!" in the voices of Colonel Forbes and his son Drew. Lastly, and very faintly heard, Sir Robert Gowan's voice floated over the heaving sea: "_Au revoir_!" History tells of the stern punishment meted out to the leaders of the rebellion--saving to Lord Nithsdale, who escaped, as Sir Robert had, in women's clothes--of the disastrous fights in Scotland, and the many condemned to death or sent as little better than slaves to the American colonies. But it does not tell how years after, at the earnest prayer of the gallant young officer in the Prince's favourite regiment, Sir Robert Gowan was recalled from exile to take his place in the army at a time when the old Pretender's cause was dead, and Drew Forbes and his father were distinguished officers in the service of the King of France. [THE END] _ |
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