The Pirate
impatience, and as if they could have heard his commands, "stand by
sheets and tacks--rake her with a broadside, when you are under her
bows, then about ship, and go off on the other tack like a wild-goose.
The sails shiver--the helm's a-lee--Ah!--deep-sea sink the
lubbers!--they miss stays, and the frigate runs them aboard!"
Accordingly, the various man[oe]uvres of the chase had brought them so
near, that Cleveland, with his spy-glass, could see the man-of-war's-men
boarding by the yards and bowsprit, in irresistible numbers, their naked
cutlasses flashing in the sun, when, at that critical moment, both ships
were enveloped in a cloud of thick black smoke, which suddenly arose on
board the captured pirate.
"Exeunt omnes!" said Bunce, with clasped hands.
"There went the Fortune's Favourite, ship and crew!" said Cleveland, at
the same instant.
But the smoke immediately clearing away, showed that the damage had only
been partial, and that, from want of a sufficient quantity of powder,
the pirates had failed in their desperate attempt to blow up their
vessel with the Halcyon.
Shortly after the action was over, Captain Weatherport of the Halcyon
sent an officer and a party of marines to the House of Stennis, to
demand from the little garrison the pirate seamen who were their
prisoners, and, in particular, Cleveland and Bunce, who acted as Captain
and Lieutenant of the gang.
This was a demand which was not to be resisted, though Magnus Troil
could have wished sincerely that the roof under which he lived had been
allowed as an asylum at least to Cleveland. But the officer's orders
were peremptory; and he added, it was Captain Weatherport's intention to
land the other prisoners, and send the whole, with a sufficient escort,
across the island to Kirkwall, in order to undergo an examination there
before the civil authorities, previous to their being sent off to London
for trial at the High Court of Admiralty. Magnus could therefore only
intercede for good usage to Cleveland, and that he might not be stripped
or plundered, which the officer, struck by his good mien, and
compassionating his situation, readily promised. The honest Udaller
would have said something in the way of comfort to Cleveland himself,
but he could not find words to express it, and only shook his head.
"Old friend," said Cleveland, "you may have much to complain of--yet you
pity instead of exulting over me--for the sake of you and yours, I will
never harm human being more. Take this from me--my last hope, but my
last temptation also"--he drew from his bosom a pocket-pistol, and gave
it to Magnus Troil. "Remember me to--But no--let every one forget me.--I
am your prisoner, sir," said he to the officer.
"And I also," said poor Bunce; and putting on a theatrical countenance,
he ranted, with no very perceptible faltering in his tone, the words of
Pierre:
"'Captain, you should be a gentleman of honour:
Keep off the rabble, that I may have room
To entertain my fate, and die with decency.'"
CHAPTER XXI.
Joy, joy, in London now!
SOUTHEY.
The news of the capture of the Rover reached Kirkwall, about an hour
before noon, and filled all men with wonder and with joy. Little
business was that day done at the Fair, whilst people of all ages and
occupations streamed from the place to see the prisoners as they were
marched towards Kirkwall, and to triumph in the different appearance
which they now bore, from that which they had formerly exhibited when
ranting, swaggering, and bullying in the streets of that town. The
bayonets of the marines were soon seen to glisten in the sun, and then
came on the melancholy troop of captives, handcuffed two and two
together. Their finery had been partly torn from them by their captors,
partly hung in rags about them; many were wounded and covered with
blood, many blackened and scorched with the explosion, by which a few of
the most desperate had in vain striven to blow up the vessel. Most of
them seemed sullen and impenitent, some were more becomingly affected
with their condition, and a few braved it out, and sung the same ribald
songs to which they had made the streets of Kirkwall ring when they were
in their frolics.
The Boatswain and Goffe, coupled together, exhausted themselves in
threats and imprecations against each other; the former charging Goffe
with want of seamanship, and the latter alleging that the Boatswain had
prevented him from firing the powder that was stowed forward, and so
sending them all to the other world together. Last came Cleveland and
Bunce, who were permitted to walk unshackled; the decent melancholy, yet
resolved manner of the former, contrasting strongly with the stage strut
and swagger which poor Jack thought it fitting to assume, in order to
conceal some less dignified emotions. The former was looked upon with
compassion, the latter with a mixture of scorn and pity; while most of
the others inspired horror, and even fear, by their looks and their
language.
There was one individual in Kirkwall, who was so far from hastening to
see the sight which attracted all eyes, that he was not even aware of
the event which agitated the town. This was the elder Mertoun, whose
residence Kirkwall had been for two or three days, part of which had
been spent in attending to some judicial proceedings, undertaken at the
instance of the Procurator Fiscal, against that grave professor, Bryce
Snailsfoot. In consequence of an inquisition into the proceedings of
this worthy trader, Cleveland's chest, with his papers and other matters
therein contained, had been restored to Mertoun, as the lawful custodier
thereof, until the right owner should be in a situation to establish his
right to them. Mertoun was at first desirous to throw back upon Justice
the charge which she was disposed to intrust him with; but, on perusing
one or two of the papers, he hastily changed his mind--in broken words,
requested the Magistrate to let the chest be sent to his lodgings, and,
hastening homeward, bolted himself into the room, to consider and
digest the singular information which chance had thus conveyed to him,
and which increased, in a tenfold degree, his impatience for an
interview with the mysterious Norna of the Fitful-head.
It may be remembered that she had required of him, when they met in the
Churchyard of Saint Ninian, to attend in the outer isle of the Cathedral
of Saint Magnus, at the hour of noon, on the fifth day of the Fair of
Saint Olla, there to meet a person by whom the fate of Mordaunt would be
explained to him.--"It must be herself," he said; "and that I should see
her at this moment is indispensable. How to find her sooner, I know not;
and better lose a few hours even in this exigence, than offend her by a
premature attempt to force myself on her presence."
Long, therefore, before noon--long before the town of Kirkwall was
agitated by the news of the events on the other side of the island, the
elder Mertoun was pacing the deserted aisle of the Cathedral, awaiting,
with agonizing eagerness, the expected communication from Norna. The
bell tolled twelve--no door opened--no one was seen to enter the
Cathedral; but the last sounds had not ceased to reverberate through the
vaulted roof, when, gliding from one of the interior side-aisles, Norna
stood before him. Mertoun, indifferent to the apparent mystery of her
sudden approach, (with the secret of which the reader is acquainted,)
went up to her at once, with the earnest ejaculation--"Ulla--Ulla
Troil--aid me to save our unhappy boy!"
"To Ulla Troil," said Norna, "I answer not--I gave that name to the
winds, on the night that cost me a father!"
"Speak not of that night of horror," said Mertoun; "we have need of our
reason--let us not think on recollections which may destroy it; but aid
me, if thou canst, to save our unfortunate child!"
"Vaughan," answered Norna, "he is already saved--long since saved; think
you a mother's hand--and that of such a mother as I am--would await your
crawling, tardy, ineffectual assistance? No, Vaughan--I make myself
known to you, but to show my triumph over you--it is the only revenge
which the powerful Norna permits herself to take for the wrongs of Ulla
Troil."
"Have you indeed saved him--saved him from the murderous crew?" said
Mertoun, or Vaughan--"speak!--and speak truth!--I will believe every
thing--all you would require me to assent to!--prove to me only he is
escaped and safe!"
"Escaped and safe, by my means," said Norna--"safe, and in assurance of
an honoured and happy alliance. Yes, great unbeliever!--yes, wise and
self-opinioned infidel!--these were the works of Norna! I knew you many
a year since; but never had I made myself known to you, save with the
triumphant consciousness of having controlled the destiny that
threatened my son. All combined against him--planets which threatened
drowning--combinations which menaced blood--but my skill was superior to
all.--I arranged--I combined--I found means--I made them--each disaster
has been averted;--and what infidel on earth, or stubborn demon beyond
the bounds of earth, shall hereafter deny my power?"
The wild ecstasy with which she spoke, so much resembled triumphant
insanity, that Mertoun answered--"Were your pretensions less lofty, and
your speech more plain, I should be better assured of my son's safety."
"Doubt on, vain sceptic!" said Norna--"And yet know, that not only is
our son safe, but vengeance is mine, though I sought it not--vengeance
on the powerful implement of the darker Influences by whom my schemes
were so often thwarted, and even the life of my son endangered.--Yes,
take it as a guarantee of the truth of my speech, that Cleveland--the
pirate Cleveland--even now enters Kirkwall as a prisoner, and will soon
expiate with his life the having shed blood which is of kin to Norna's."
"Who didst thou say was prisoner?" exclaimed Mertoun, with a voice of
thunder--"_Who_, woman, didst thou say should expiate his crimes with
his life?"
"Cleveland--the pirate Cleveland!" answered Norna; "and by me, whose
counsel he scorned, he has been permitted to meet his fate."
"Thou most wretched of women!" said Mertoun, speaking from between his
clenched teeth,--"thou hast slain thy son, as well as thy father!"
"My son!--what son?--what mean you?--Mordaunt is your son--your only
son!" exclaimed Norna--"is he not?--tell me quickly--is he not?"
"Mordaunt is indeed _my_ son," said Mertoun--"the laws, at least, gave
him to me as such--But, O unhappy Ulla! Cleveland is your son as well as
mine--blood of our blood, bone of our bone; and if you have given him to
death, I will end my wretched life along with him!"
"Stay--hold--stop, Vaughan!" said Norna; "I am not yet overcome--prove
but to me the truth of what you say, I would find help, if I should
evoke hell!--But prove your words, else believe them I cannot."
"_Thou_ help! wretched, overweening woman!--in what have thy
combinations and thy stratagems--the legerdemain of lunacy--the mere
quackery of insanity--in what have these involved thee?--and yet I will
speak to thee as reasonable--nay, I will admit thee as powerful--Hear,
then, Ulla, the proofs which you demand, and find a remedy, if thou
canst:--
"When I fled from Orkney," he continued, after a pause--"it is now
five-and-twenty years since--I bore with me the unhappy offspring to
whom you had given light. It was sent to me by one of your kinswomen,
with an account of your illness, which was soon followed by a generally
received belief of your death. It avails not to tell in what misery I
left Europe. I found refuge in Hispaniola, wherein a fair young Spaniard
undertook the task of comforter. I married her--she became mother of the