Captain Kyd Volume Ii Part 21

"Truly thou must be in love, Edwin," said the other, with a kindly laugh, that became his manly and open features. "I marvel who it may be.

You shake your head! Well," he added, laughing, "so long as it is not my n.o.ble Kate, I care not who it be. I knew a maiden once whom I would have loved--so gentle, fair, and good, besides n.o.bleborn and generous was she--if I had not loved anoth--"

"Who--who this maiden?" he said, abruptly interrupting him, and laying his hand upon the arm of the speaker with surprising energy.

"Thou art over quick in thy speech," said the other, turning and speaking coldly.

"Nay, pardon me, sir, I did forget my station," said the other, bending his head and crossing his hands upon his bosom.

"Nay, Edwin, you go too far! I do not like this manner, and this, I know not what to call it, way you have of a.s.suming an att.i.tude, when reproved, becoming a bashful girl rather than the manhood thy mustache, if not thy years, challenges thee to a.s.sert. I will answer thy question.

It was a fair and gentle creature, whom in my boyhood I knew only as the humble sailor knows the stars that burn nightly above him. I gazed on her afar off, and dared not approach her nearer, for she was n.o.ble, and, as thou knowest, I was lowly born. She was gentle, kind, and good; grat.i.tude fills my heart when I speak of her, for I owe her much; she first awakened ambition in me, and pointed me the way to make myself n.o.ble. Her eloquence I shall never forget. Its effect upon me is indelible. I will some day tell thee how first I met her, and the interest she took in me."

"Did you see her often?"

"No. But once we spoke together! But that once produced the seeds of the fruit of happiness I since have gathered."

"Strange that seeing her but once should have had such an effect upon thee."

"It was like sunlight first let in upon the man's vision who is born blind."

"If such the influence she held over you--if thus you speak of her now, why did not her image take a deeper hold in your heart--nay, why did you not love her, sir?"

"Because I loved another."

The youth sighed, and then said, "What motive induced her to take this interest in you?"

"Save that it was prompted by her own gentle and good spirit, I know not," he said with frankness.

"May it not have been love?" said the other, with hesitation.

The elder started, and turned and gazed on the speaker an instant with surprise before he replied:

"Love! How could she love a lowborn boy like me? 'Twas pity, rather."

"Nay, 'twas love."

"Nay, I will not have the vanity to think so, nor will I do her motives so much wrong."

"Said you she was fair?"

"As maiden ever was."

"Gentle?"

"As a seraph, if it should come to earth to habit in woman's form."

"Good?"

"As an angel."

"Fair, gentle, and good?"

"All three."

"And yet you loved her not?"

"I loved _another_! therefore, if she had been indeed an angel, I could not have loved, though I might have wors.h.i.+pped her."

The young man bent his head low till the snowy plume hid his face, and a deep sigh escaped his bosom. "Her thou wouldst have me love, then?" he asked, after a moment's silence, during which the eyes of the other were habitually scanning the horizon.

"I would."

"Wherefore?"

"Because I love thee!"

"Love me!" he cried, starting.

"As a brother do I. In truth this chase has fevered you, and you are not yourself, Edwin. Let us aboard!"

They were about to descend to the s.h.i.+p, when the elder, glancing once more around the horizon, suddenly fixed his eyes in a northwardly direction, and, after a moment's steady look, exclaimed,

"A sail!"

The younger arrested his descending footstep, and also turned his eyes in the same direction, and discerned a white dot on the extreme verge of water and sky, the stationary appearance of which, though neither form nor outline was distinguishable at the distance it was from them, indicated it to be a vessel.

"It may be a merchantman!" he said.

"It may be the bucanier! Craft of any sort are so scarce in these colonial seas at this season, that the chances are full three to one for the pirate. We must on board and make sail."

As he spoke they descended, followed by their dogs, the precipitous rock, and the next moment stood on the vessel's deck. A few brief orders were given by the elder of the two, who, it was apparent, was the commander of the brig; the anchor was weighed, the topsails loosened and set, and, catching a light breeze that blew through the mouth of the lagoon seaward, she soon left the wooded sh.o.r.es, and rode gallantly over the billows of the open sea in the direction of the sail they had seen from the cliff. What had first appeared a white speck on the rim of the sea now grew into shape and form, and, with the gla.s.s, the upper sails of a brigantine could be seen down to her courses, her hull still being beneath the horizon.

Swiftly the brig of war cut the blue waves, all her light and drawing sails set. Her armed deck, on each side of which bristled seven eighteen pounders, with their armament, presented an appearance of that order and propriety which, even on the eve of battle, characterizes the interior of a British s.h.i.+p of war. The weather-beaten tars, who had all been called to quarters, leaned over the forward bulwarks, and watched with interest the distant sail, but made their remarks in a subdued tone to each other. All was ready for action in case the stranger should prove to be an enemy. The helmsman, with his eyes now dropped on the compa.s.s, now directed ahead towards the sail, stood cool and collected at his post; the officer of the deck paced with a thoughtful brow fore and aft in the waist, every few seconds stopping to survey the chase, while the junior officers, each at his station, silently regarded the object, their eyes sparkling with excitement as each moment brought them nearer to it. In a magnificent upper cabin or p.o.o.p, constructed on the quarter-deck, and gorgeous with curtains of crimson, sofas, ottomans, and rich Turkish rugs laid over the floor with latticed windows opening on every side to the water, were the two hunters. They had now changed their costume for one more appropriate to the sea and the quarter-deck of an armed vessel. The youthful captain wore the undress uniform of his rank and profession, his hunting-knife replaced by a small sword, and his bugle by a brace of pistols. He was standing by the window with his eyes upon the vessel ahead. The other had subst.i.tuted a plain suit of black velvet for his former rich costume, and an elegant rapier hung at one side and a silver inkhorn at the other. He was seated at an ebony escritoir writing, and, from his pursuit and apparel, evidently held the rank of private secretary.

"He is standing south by east, Edwin," said the youthful captain, turning from the lattice and addressing the youth with animation; "we shall intercept him by sunset if this wind holds. But methinks," he added with interest, fixing his eyes upon him as, with his rich hair drooping about his cheeks, he leaned, forgetful of his occupation, over the sheet, "that of late you are getting sad and absent. This station does not suit your ambition, perhaps. You would be an officer instead of a clerk."

"Nay, sir, I would be as I am; I am not discontent so that I can be near--" here he checked himself, bent his head to his writing, and did not look up until he fell a hand gently laid upon his shoulder. He started, while the colour came and went in his cheek with confusion, and he shrunk instinctively away.

"Beshrew me, fair youth! I know not what to make of thee," said the young captain, taking a seat beside him, and resting one arm familiarly upon his shoulder. "Thou hast some deep, untold grief at thy heart. If it be a love secret--a tale of love unrequited--of cruel maids and broken promises," he said, gayly, "why, then, out with it; make me your confidant; I will tell you how to make her heart ache, and to wish thee back again. Come, Edwin, unburden thy thoughts. Unspoken, they will feed upon the cheek and eye, and the grave have thee ere thou hast attained manhood."

The youthful secretary was silent a few moments, and then said, with an attempt to smile,

"I have a tale of love, but not of mine."

"I will hear it, and then tell thee if I think it thine or no."

"There was once a n.o.ble maiden, the heiress of an earldom, who loved a peasant youth, handsome and brave, and the n.o.bility he gat not by birth nature endowed him with. The maiden was proud and independent of spirit, and loved him for himself--for t.i.tle, wealth, and rank she thought not!"

"A generous creature. And this humble youth loved her in return?"