Ronald Morton, or the Fire Ships Part 38

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 circ.u.mstances. 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 compa.s.sion. 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 sh.o.r.es 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 n.o.ble 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 s.h.i.+p 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 a.s.sist 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 t.i.tle, 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 s.h.i.+p; still, by keeping him on board, he might possibly gain some information which might prove useful in establis.h.i.+ng 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 antic.i.p.ated 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 s.h.i.+p was engaged allowed the captain or Morton very little time to think of that or any other subject.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

RONALD MEETS HIS FATHER--OLD DOULL RECOGNISES ROLF MORTON--MORTON RECOGNISES FATHER MENDEZ--ROLF MORTON'S DIPLOMACY--A FORT ATTACKED--BLUE JACKETS ON Sh.o.r.e.

A few days after the "Imperious" reached the coast, a brig of war hove in sight. The frigate stood towards her, and when the two vessels had hove-to, the commander of the brig came on board, and confirmed the statement made by the marquis and the priest, that Spain had made peace with England, and had determined to throw off the French yoke.

"Much good may our allies do us," remarked Lord Claymore who had a profound contempt for the Spaniards. "A cowardly braggadocio set. I would place no dependence on their support in case of need."

The commander of the brig bowed; he was not likely to dispute the matter with his lords.h.i.+p.

"By-the-by, I have brought a pa.s.senger--an old s.h.i.+pmate of mine, whom Mr Morton will at all events be glad to see."

"And so shall I," said Lord Claymore, glancing at the gangway, at which a fine, stout, elderly-looking man appeared, dressed in plain clothes.

Ronald sprang aft, and grasped his hand.

"Father, I little expected to see you. Where have you come from?"

"From Malta last," answered Rolf Morton. "I went out there to look for you. When I arrived home in the old 'Lion,' and was paid off, I applied for and obtained my discharge from the service. I found that I had made a mistake in going to sea the last time. It did not suit me. I felt, too, that for your sake as well as my own, it would be better for me to live in a private capacity on sh.o.r.e. You are a lieutenant, and may soon be a commander. It would stand in your way in society to have it said that your father was a boatswain; not that you would be ashamed of me, I am sure, but we cannot make people wiser, we must take them as they are.

Besides, I am more at liberty to attend to the subject you wrote to me about. I am not very sanguine of success, but still it would be satisfactory, for your sake, to discover after all that I was of good family, and to find some relations for you."

After Rolf Morton had talked for some time with his son, Lord Claymore sent for him. He had heard from the commander of the brig that he had retired from the service. He shook him warmly by the hand.

"It will be pleasant for you to be together, and as the brig has to return immediately, I shall be glad if you like to remain on board.

Your son, I doubt not, can put you up."

Rolf Morton thanked the captain for his kindness. It was the very thing he wished. He wanted to be for some time with Ronald, and to talk to old Doull and Eagleshay, to ascertain what they knew about his early days.

Most of the prisoners taken in the felucca were sent to Malta, but Captain Tacon was kept on board the frigate, as Lord Claymore considered that he might a.s.sist in clearing up the matter in which he was so much interested, and be made useful in other ways, from his knowledge of the coast and of the towns and villages near it.

Rolf was naturally eager to see Doull and Eagleshay. The two old men were sent for. Their astonishment was very great when they were told that he was the boy they had carried off from Shetland nearly fifty years before. He a.s.sured them that he clearly recollected the circ.u.mstance, and that two of the men were tall, like them, and that there was one much older and shorter. They both looked at him very earnestly for some time. At last Doull exclaimed--

"I remember well a mark on the laddie's hand; a spike or a nail had run through it just between the bones of the fore and second finger. It was a curious mark to be in the hand of so small a child, and I mind well thinking that mark will never wear out, and I shall know the boy whenever I meet him again."

While the old man was speaking, Rolf was examining his hand. He held it out with the back up; there, sure enough, was visible, through the brown, hairy skin, a deep mark, evidently produced as Doull had described.

"Father, there can be no longer any doubt about the matter," exclaimed Ronald with more excitement than he usually exhibited.

"I am afraid that the evidence will not be considered very strong in a court of law," observed Rolf. "However, it leaves no doubt on my mind that these two men a.s.sisted to carry me off. But that is all! they cannot say, more than I can, to what family I belong; and as for this paper which they say they signed, that of course is irretrievably lost.

Ronald, I have made up my mind what I will do--I will go back to Whalsey and take possession of my farm. I no longer fear Sir Marcus Wardhill-- he can do me no harm, and I will try to live at peace with the old man.

I will take these two men, Doull and Eagleshay, with me. Lord Claymore will give them their discharge. They are no longer fit for duty. They shall be well looked after, for I bear them no ill-will for the injury they did me. All has been for the best, I doubt not: we can but do our duty and trust in Providence."

Ronald heartily entered into his father's plans, though he felt much more sanguine than he did as to the result. He said that he had little doubt but that Lord Claymore would grant a superannuated discharge to the two old men.

"All will be right," said Rolf, cheerfully. "I must, however, take a cruise with you first, my lad. It will be time enough to think of going home when we fall in with a s.h.i.+p bound that way."

Rolf had gone into the gun-room soon after his arrival on board, and did not return on deck till the evening. When he made his appearance, the marquis and his daughter and the priest were a.s.sembled there. All the officers, and especially Glover, welcomed him cordially, and Lord Claymore came up and spoke to him in the kindest way. Rolf looked across the deck at the Spanish party, and could not help fixing his eyes on the priest.

"I am sure it is him," he exclaimed. "I never saw a stronger likeness; years have only dried him up a little." And without another word he walked up to the old man, and said--

"What, Father Mendez! it is long since we met; but don't you know me?"

The priest cast a calm glance at him, totally free from astonishment, as he answered--"Time changes all people. If it is long since we met, you must excuse me if I do not recollect you."

"I forgot that," said Rolf, frankly. "My name is Morton--we met in Shetland. Were you not then called Father Mendez?"

"I am called Father John," said the priest in the same calm tone as before.

This reply would have irritated many men, but Rolf looked at him, and said quietly--"That may be your present name, but unless my recollection strangely deceives me, you were called Mendez."

The priest bowed and replied--"I have seen many people in the course of my life. It is possible we have met, but you will understand that the memory of a man, as he advances in life, is not as good as it was in his youth."

"I have the advantage of you in that respect, certainly," persisted Rolf, in a manner very different to his usual custom.

"Come, come, Father Mendez! we were too much together in days gone by for you to have forgotten me any more than I have forgotten you,"

continued Morton. "I do not wish to annoy you, but I wish you to do an act of justice. The son of your former patron and friend, Don Hernan Escalante, was carried off from his mother's house by the crew of a schooner which suddenly appeared before the place. He has never since been heard of: what has become of him? I ask. His mother has friends in this s.h.i.+p who will insist on knowing the truth. It will be wiser for you to speak it at once."

The priest was more thrown off his guard by this appeal than he probably had ever been before.