The Pirate
to the superstition of the country, have escaped a visit from the ghost
of her departed lover, in the event of her bestowing upon any living
suitor the faith which she had plighted to the dead. This part of the
legend may serve as a curious commentary on the fine Scottish ballad,
which begins,
"There came a ghost to Margaret's door," &c.(_a_)[6]
The common account of this incident farther bears, that Mr. FEA, the
spirited individual by whose exertions GOW'S career of iniquity was cut
short, was so far from receiving any reward from Government, that he
could not obtain even countenance enough to protect him against a
variety of sham suits, raised against him by Newgate solicitors, who
acted in the name of GOW, and others of the pirate crew; and the various
expenses, vexatious prosecutions, and other legal consequences, in which
his gallant exploit involved him, utterly ruined his fortune, and his
family; making his memory a notable example to all who shall in future
take pirates on their own authority.
It is to be supposed, for the honour of GEORGE the First's Government,
that the last circumstance, as well as the dates, and other particulars
of the commonly received story, are inaccurate, since they will be found
totally irreconcilable with the following veracious narrative, compiled
from materials to which he himself alone has had access, by
THE AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY.
FOOTNOTES:
[6] See Editor's Notes at the end of the Volume. Wherever a similar
reference occurs, the reader will understand that the same direction
applies.
THE PIRATE.
CHAPTER I.
The storm had ceased its wintry roar,
Hoarse dash the billows of the sea;
But who on Thule's desert shore,
Cries, Have I burnt my harp for thee?
MACNIEL.
That long, narrow, and irregular island, usually called the mainland of
Zetland, because it is by far the largest of that Archipelago,
terminates, as is well known to the mariners who navigate the stormy
seas which surround the Thule of the ancients, in a cliff of immense
height, entitled Sumburgh-Head, which presents its bare scalp and naked
sides to the weight of a tremendous surge, forming the extreme point of
the isle to the south-east. This lofty promontory is constantly exposed
to the current of a strong and furious tide, which, setting in betwixt
the Orkney and Zetland Islands, and running with force only inferior to
that of the Pentland Frith, takes its name from the headland we have
mentioned, and is called the Roost of Sumburgh; _roost_ being the phrase
assigned in those isles to currents of this description.
On the land side, the promontory is covered with short grass, and slopes
steeply down to a little isthmus, upon which the sea has encroached in
creeks, which, advancing from either side of the island, gradually work
their way forward, and seem as if in a short time they would form a
junction, and altogether insulate Sumburgh-Head, when what is now a
cape, will become a lonely mountain islet, severed from the mainland, of
which it is at present the terminating extremity.
Man, however, had in former days considered this as a remote or unlikely
event; for a Norwegian chief of other times, or, as other accounts said,
and as the name of Jarlshof seemed to imply, an ancient Earl of the
Orkneys had selected this neck of land as the place for establishing a
mansion-house. It has been long entirely deserted, and the vestiges only
can be discerned with difficulty; for the loose sand, borne on the
tempestuous gales of those stormy regions, has overblown, and almost
buried, the ruins of the buildings; but in the end of the seventeenth
century, a part of the Earl's mansion was still entire and habitable. It
was a rude building of rough stone, with nothing about it to gratify the
eye, or to excite the imagination; a large old-fashioned narrow house,
with a very steep roof, covered with flags composed of grey sandstone,
would perhaps convey the best idea of the place to a modern reader. The
windows were few, very small in size, and distributed up and down the
building with utter contempt of regularity. Against the main structure
had rested, in former times, certain smaller co-partments of the
mansion-house, containing offices, or subordinate apartments, necessary
for the accommodation of the Earl's retainers and menials. But these had
become ruinous; and the rafters had been taken down for fire-wood, or
for other purposes; the walls had given way in many places; and, to
complete the devastation, the sand had already drifted amongst the
ruins, and filled up what had been once the chambers they contained, to
the depth of two or three feet.
Amid this desolation, the inhabitants of Jarlshof had contrived, by
constant labour and attention, to keep in order a few roods of land,
which had been enclosed as a garden, and which, sheltered by the walls
of the house itself, from the relentless sea-blast, produced such
vegetables as the climate could bring forth, or rather as the sea-gale
would permit to grow; for these islands experience even less of the
rigour of cold than is encountered on the mainland of Scotland; but,
unsheltered by a wall of some sort or other, it is scarce possible to
raise even the most ordinary culinary vegetables; and as for shrubs or
trees, they are entirely out of the question, such is the force of the
sweeping sea-blast.
At a short distance from the mansion, and near to the sea-beach, just
where the creek forms a sort of imperfect harbour, in which lay three or
four fishing-boats, there were a few most wretched cottages for the
inhabitants and tenants of the township of Jarlshof, who held the whole
district of the landlord upon such terms as were in those days usually
granted to persons of this description, and which, of course, were hard
enough. The landlord himself resided upon an estate which he possessed
in a more eligible situation, in a different part of the island, and
seldom visited his possessions at Sumburgh-Head. He was an honest, plain
Zetland gentleman, somewhat passionate, the necessary result of being
surrounded by dependents; and somewhat over-convivial in his habits, the
consequence, perhaps, of having too much time at his disposal; but
frank-tempered and generous to his people, and kind and hospitable to
strangers. He was descended also of an old and noble Norwegian family; a
circumstance which rendered him dearer to the lower orders, most of whom
are of the same race; while the lairds, or proprietors, are generally of
Scottish extraction, who, at that early period, were still considered as
strangers and intruders. Magnus Troil, who deduced his descent from the
very Earl who was supposed to have founded Jarlshof, was peculiarly of
this opinion.
The present inhabitants of Jarlshof had experienced, on several
occasions, the kindness and good will of the proprietor of the
territory. When Mr. Mertoun--such was the name of the present inhabitant
of the old mansion--first arrived in Zetland, some years before the
story commences, he had been received at the house of Mr. Troil with
that warm and cordial hospitality for which the islands are
distinguished. No one asked him whence he came, where he was going, what
was his purpose in visiting so remote a corner of the empire, or what
was likely to be the term of his stay. He arrived a perfect stranger,
yet was instantly overpowered by a succession of invitations; and in
each house which he visited, he found a home as long as he chose to
accept it, and lived as one of the family, unnoticed and unnoticing,
until he thought proper to remove to some other dwelling. This apparent
indifference to the rank, character, and qualities of their guest, did
not arise from apathy on the part of his kind hosts, for the islanders
had their full share of natural curiosity; but their delicacy deemed it
would be an infringement upon the laws of hospitality, to ask questions
which their guest might have found it difficult or unpleasing to answer;
and instead of endeavouring, as is usual in other countries, to wring
out of Mr. Mertoun such communications as he might find it agreeable to
withhold, the considerate Zetlanders contented themselves with eagerly
gathering up such scraps of information as could be collected in the
course of conversation.
But the rock in an Arabian desert is not more reluctant to afford water,
than Mr. Basil Mertoun was niggard in imparting his confidence, even
incidentally; and certainly the politeness of the gentry of Thule was
never put to a more severe test than when they felt that good-breeding
enjoined them to abstain from enquiring into the situation of so
mysterious a personage.
All that was actually known of him was easily summed up. Mr. Mertoun had
come to Lerwick, then rising into some importance, but not yet
acknowledged as the principal town of the island, in a Dutch vessel,
accompanied only by his son, a handsome boy of about fourteen years old.
His own age might exceed forty. The Dutch skipper introduced him to some
of the very good friends with whom he used to barter gin and gingerbread
for little Zetland bullocks, smoked geese, and stockings of lambs-wool;
and although Meinheer could only say, that "Meinheer Mertoun hab bay his
bassage like one gentlemans, and hab given a Kreitz-dollar beside to the
crew," this introduction served to establish the Dutchman's passenger in
a respectable circle of acquaintances, which gradually enlarged, as it
appeared that the stranger was a man of considerable acquirements.
This discovery was made almost _per force_; for Mertoun was as unwilling
to speak upon general subjects, as upon his own affairs. But he was
sometimes led into discussions, which showed, as it were in spite of
himself, the scholar and the man of the world; and, at other times, as
if in requital of the hospitality which he experienced, he seemed to
compel himself, against his fixed nature, to enter into the society of
those around him, especially when it assumed the grave, melancholy, or
satirical cast, which best suited the temper of his own mind. Upon such
occasions, the Zetlanders were universally of opinion that he must have
had an excellent education, neglected only in one striking particular,
namely, that Mr. Mertoun scarce knew the stem of a ship from the stern;
and in the management of a boat, a cow could not be more ignorant. It
seemed astonishing such gross ignorance of the most necessary art of
life (in the Zetland Isles at least) should subsist along with his
accomplishments in other respects; but so it was.
Unless called forth in the manner we have mentioned, the habits of Basil
Mertoun were retired and gloomy. From loud mirth he instantly fled; and
even the moderated cheerfulness of a friendly party, had the invariable
effect of throwing him into deeper dejection than even his usual
demeanour indicated.
Women are always particularly desirous of investigating mystery, and of
alleviating melancholy, especially when these circumstances are united
in a handsome man about the prime of life. It is possible, therefore,
that amongst the fair-haired and blue-eyed daughters of Thule, this
mysterious and pensive stranger might have found some one to take upon
herself the task of consolation, had he shown any willingness to accept
such kindly offices; but, far from doing so, he seemed even to shun the
presence of the sex, to which in our distresses, whether of mind or
body, we generally apply for pity and comfort.
To these peculiarities Mr. Mertoun added another, which was particularly
disagreeable to his host and principal patron, Magnus Troil. This
magnate of Zetland, descended by the father's side, as we have already