Bob heartily joined in with Job's notion.

"If I was a king, I wouldn't let 'em," he remarked. "I'd say, just you let the farms, and the gardens, and the women and children, and the churches alone; and if you wants to tight, by all manner of means fight it out, but keep afloat, and don't come here."

The seamen had been conversing for some time in this strain, when the clatter of a horse's hoof was heard behind them, and turning their heads they saw the same Spaniard who had accompanied them on their way the day before. They told Morton, who turned his horse's head to meet him.

"Thank heaven that my steed has carried me so well, and that I have come up to you," exclaimed Don Josef. "There is work for you; your aid is wanted; you will not refuse it, I know? But come, ride back with me as fast as your beast's legs will move, and I will tell you. Give him the spur! spare him not; I may supply you with a better soon. The French are at no great distance from this; secure as they fancy themselves, we have spies among them to inform us of all their movements. After daybreak this morning, one of the spies arrived, and brought me notice that the enemy were advancing, and that they having heard that a British commissioner was in the neighbourhood, had resolved to carry him off. On hearing this, I instantly set out to warn your countryman of the danger to which he was exposed, but on my way I met a person who informed me that he and his party had set forth at a very early hour, and were actually advancing in the very direction where they would encounter the enemy. I, on this, instantly sent forth a person to warn him of his danger, and galloped after you, to entreat you to head a party, of strength sufficient to meet the enemy. I directed all the men in the district to assemble in arms; they want a leader, however, in whom they may have confidence. I have told them that they would find one in you, and they believe me. You will come, will you not?"

"Indeed, I will!" answered Ronald, belabouring his horse, and digging his spurs into his flanks with an energy proportioned to his anxiety. So eager was he, that for some time he could scarcely ask questions. One thought alone occupied his mind: Edda was in danger, and there was a possibility that he might preserve her from it.

The party soon got back to the village, where, in front of the inn, a large number of men with arms in their hands were assembled. They received Morton as he rode up with loud vivas. He had won their regards the previous evening by the way he had addressed them, and Don Josef had been telling them what a gallant fellow he was. They were, therefore, now prepared to place the most implicit confidence in him, and to hail him as a leader in the enterprise Don Josef had projected. The Spaniard had been giving him an exact account of all the information he had received, and of the plans he had formed. Ronald thought them excellent; there was, however, no time to be lost. Messengers with the fiery cross—at least a message of the same import—had been sent round to all the neighbourhood, and armed men were coming in from every direction. When their numbers were counted, Morton found himself at the head of a guerilla band, mustering upwards of three hundred men, cavalry and infantry. They varied more in their arms than in their costume, and though many were somewhat ragged, when massed together and all looking fierce and eager for the fight, they had a very warlike appearance.

The great object was to overtake Colonel Armytage before he could reach the spot where the ambush was supposed to be placed; he travelled with only a small escort of a dozen troopers, merely sufficient for protection against any brigands who might be roving through the country. As to the French, he had fancied that they were at a considerable distance, and had no fear of falling in with them: he ought of course to have been better informed. The truth was, that though formal and dignified, and so far fitted to have intercourse with the Spaniards, his manners were not sufficiently conciliatory to have gained their affections, and they consequently neglected to give him the information on many points which it was most important for him to obtain.

Job and Bob exchanged a few passing remarks as they bumped along in a way to which they were not at all accustomed, and which caused their words to come out like shot from guns irregularly served in action, or the pantings of a broken-down steam-engine; only such an invention was not known in those days.

"I'd sooner be serving my gun aboard the frigate than be on the top of this here brute," observed Bob. "But it's no odds, I suppose; if we catches the Mounseers, and drubs them, we shall ride back on their backs—eh, Job?"

"Not so sure of that; they'll sham lame and refuse to carry us," answered the other seaman. "But I say, Bob, what a hurry our lieutenant's in; to my mind, it's all about that young lady at the window; mark my words, there'll be a splice some day or other, and good luck to him too; a finer-hearted fellow never stepped, for all he's a boatswain's son. There's some men born to be officers, and he's one of 'em."

People seldom dream of the way in which they and their acts are discussed by their inferiors.

Don Josef now told Ronald that they were approaching the spot where he hoped to overtake Colonel Armytage and his party, but no traces of them could be seen. They must have proceeded faster than Don Josef had calculated. "On, on!" was the cry. They met a peasant, a half-witted fellow; he had seen such a party—a carriage with ladies, a waggon and some horsemen—pass an hour before.

"We shall be too late, I fear," exclaimed Don Josef; "but on, my friends; we may still overtake the enemy."

The party redoubled their speed; never had Ronald been worked up to such a pitch of anxiety and eagerness.

The sound of shots was heard; the road wound among low broken cliffs, and trees growing thickly together; it was a likely place for an assault; so frequent were the bends made by the road that seldom was there a direct view of more than a hundred yards. Horse and foot rushed on, till Ronald remembering that their impetuosity might do more harm than good, halted them; and begging Don Josef to remain with them and not to advance till summoned, rode on with the two seamen, and six other men, of the best-equipped and best-mounted of the party. Now again he pushed on as rapidly as he could. How his heart beat! Should he be in time to rescue his friends? If not, how would they be treated? His eagerness prompted him to shout to his men, but he recollected caution was necessary, and restrained himself. Again the rattle of musketry was heard, and dropping shots, and even the shouts of the combatants reached his ears; he was close to them; a carriage was the first object which met his view. The mule which dragged it had drawn it against the side of the cliff, against which it lay half upset. Before it were a party of men drawn up across the pass, and bravely contending against a whole host who appeared beyond. It was evident, however, the small band would be quickly overpowered, for men were seen climbing the cliff with muskets in hand, belonging to the opposite party. By their dress, and the rapidity with which they climbed the cliffs, they seemed to be seamen. Ronald's plans were formed in a moment; he instantly despatched the most trusty of his party to direct Don Josef to send a hundred men up the cliffs, so as to gain a higher level than the French, and to advance with all rapidity with the rest. Putting spurs to his horse, Ronald, with his small body of companions, darted on, shouting in English and Spanish, "To the rescue! to the rescue! Do not give way—a strong force is at hand!"

He had neither been heard nor seen by the commissioner's escort: at that moment they wavered and drew back. Once losing ground, the French dashed in among them; while some of the latter engaged each of them in single combat, a French officer and several others made their way to the carriage; Ronald and his band galloped on. At that moment only were they discovered. A shriek was heard. The Frenchmen were dragging the ladies from their carriage. Ronald repeated the shouts he had already uttered. Among the French were sailors as well as soldiers.

"We'll tackle them," cried Job.

"What business has they to be here?" exclaimed Bob.

The French officer was in naval uniform, and Ronald, even at that distance, recognised Alfonse Gerardin.

Mrs Armytage and her daughter shrieked for help; they fancied they had been attacked by bandits. They had been more alarmed for the safety of Colonel Armytage than for their own; he was nowhere to be seen.

"Fear not, my beloved Edda; you and your mother are in perfect safety," said Alfonse Gerardin, who had thrown himself from his horse. He was now endeavouring to draw her, with as little violence as possible, from the carriage. "I have sought for you through many lands; I have found you at last, and we will never again part."

These expressions frightened Edda far more than any threats would have done. There was a concentrated energy and determination in the way he spoke them that made her feel that he would keep his word.

"Oh, spare me! spare me!" she exclaimed. "You are not a brigand; you do not war with women. Let us go free, and hasten to the assistance of my father. You expressed friendship for him. Prove it now."

"I will, Edda, I swear; but you cannot remain here. Any moment you may be sacrificed. The shot are falling thickly around. It is hopeless to expect help from any one but me."

At that moment Edda saw him change colour, and then she heard the sound of a voice which she knew full well—"To the rescue! to the rescue!" while Bob and Job shouted, "Down with the Mounseers; down with them!"

Edda saw Ronald coming. She struggled to free herself; while Alfonse, having leapt on his horse, was attempting to lift her up on the saddle; but he was not a good horseman, and it seemed doubtful whether he would succeed.

While some of his followers were endeavouring to carry off Mrs Armytage, in obedience to his orders, the others were facing about to defend themselves against the approaching enemy. When the French saw the small body of men led by Morton, those who had faced to meet them boldly advanced. Morton dashed forward. His great object was to reach Alfonse Gerardin. He saw nothing else, he thought of nothing else but Edda Armytage in his power.

"Release her, or you die!" he shouted.

Truefitt and Doull meantime had each singled out a French seaman, and with hearty good-will were attacking them with their cutlasses. So fierce was their onslaught that they drove them back into the midst of the melee, where Colonel Armytage's troopers were still holding their own against their foes. The French were, however, pressing them very hard. Alfonse looked round and saw that the way was open to him. In another moment Ronald Morton would be at his side. He stooped down, and throwing his arms round Edda, by a violent effort lifted her off the ground and placed her on his saddle.

"Retreat, men!" he shouted, "Let alone the other lady."

He was galloping off, but Ronald digging his spurs into his horse's flanks, and cutting down a French soldier, who attempted to stop him, was in another instant by the side of the young lieutenant. Gerardin saw him coming with uplifted sword. He raised his own weapon to defend himself, while he still held Edda with his left arm. He knew that Ronald would not dare to fire; he doubted whether he would even venture to strike, for fear of injuring Miss Armytage. Ronald's eye was practised, his nerves were well strung.

"Release her, villain!—madman!" he shouted again. He saw what Alfonse, who had to turn his head to look at him, did not see, Truefitt and Doull springing across the road. Bob seized the horse's head; the animal reared. Gerardin, in attempting to seize the rein, loosened his hold of Edda, and she would have fallen to the ground had not Truefitt caught her. The enemy were gathering thickly around. Bob, seeing what had happened, let go the rein to defend his own head, as well as his shipmate's, from the blows showered on them. Morton, too, was attacked on all sides. He did not seek for revenge. Gerardin's horse sprang forward and saved his rider from the only blow aimed at him by Morton. All these events had passed within a few seconds of time. At that instant the Frenchmen uttered a cry of "Retreat!—retreat! Sauve qui peut!" They had good reason for so doing; for the cliffs on either side appeared covered with guerillas, who began firing down upon them, while a strong band was seen advancing at full speed along the road.

"Ronald Morton, I hate you!" exclaimed Gerardin, turning round in his saddle, and shaking his clenched fist at the English lieutenant. "You have foiled me again and again. I know you, and who you are; you stand between me and my birthright; you shall not foil me again. I have before sought your life; the next time we meet we will not separate till one or the other dies."

These last words were uttered as, surrounded by the survivors of his band, he was galloping off. The advantage of having sent the Spaniards to crown the height was now apparent. They drove the French riflemen down to the main body, and the enemy, not being able to ascertain the number opposed to them, gave way before a very inferior and undisciplined force. Ronald did not attempt to follow them till he had placed Edda in safety by the side of her mother, whom he found half fainting in the carriage. Then telling her that he would go in search of Colonel Armytage, he leapt on his horse and joined Don Josef and the surviving troopers who were moving on in pursuit of the enemy. He had not gone far before he fancied that he could distinguish Colonel Armytage mounted on a horse among the French, and drooping as if badly wounded.

The road sloped considerably in front. The French were descending the steep. Calling to his companions to charge, he led the way, attacking the rear-guard of the enemy with irresistible impetuosity. Down they went before the Spanish blades like corn before the sickle. Those in front endeavoured to fly. Some few turned to withstand their opponents, but they, too, gave way, and Ronald and his followers fought on till they reached the prize the French fancied they had secured: the person to capture whom the expedition had apparently been despatched. The colonel, who had been secured to his horse, was almost insensible, and seemed not at all aware by whom he had been rescued. The French, meantime, when they discovered the small number of the guerilla band opposed to them halted, and seemed about to return; but Ronald showed so bold a front that they apparently thought better of it, and on finding that they were not again attacked, formed in order, and continued their retreat.

Ronald observed, as he rode back, that although there were numbers of dead on the road, there was not a wounded man alive among them.



CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

COLONEL ARMYTAGE WOUNDED—CROSSING THE BAY OF BISCAY—CHASED DURING A GALE—THE BRIG DISMASTED—CAPTURED.

Ronald Morton's heart beat high with hope when he rode back, and was able to announce to Mrs Armytage and Edda that he had recovered Colonel Armytage. "Though wounded and faint from loss of blood, I trust that he is not seriously hurt," he added.

He received an ample reward in the look of love and gratitude which Edda gave him.

Before the arrival of the colonel, the carriage was got up, the traces were repaired, the mules caught, and everything was in readiness to move. Don Josef, who now came up, insisted on their returning to his house.

"Even if the enemy were not in the neighbourhood," he observed, "it would be useless for the commissioner to proceed further, utterly unable as he is to attend to business."

After a time Colonel Armytage yielded an unwilling consent to the arrangement, he had learned that Don Josef was Morton's friend, and he was evidently doubting in his mind how he should treat Morton himself. He had just rendered him a great service, and the very man whom he had once favoured as the suitor of his daughter, and who had promised to come and claim her when circumstances would allow him, he had seen in the ranks of the enemy, and he now learned had also attempted to carry off his daughter. These thoughts occupied his mind as the carriage moved on in the centre of the party. Ronald had too correct notions of generalship not to march in true military order. He sent forward an advanced guard, and kept a rear guard at some distance to give timely notice of the approach of an enemy, should they be pursued. He himself was everywhere, seeing that his newly-raised band of guerillas were attending to their duty, though he did not fail, whenever he passed, to make inquiries at the carriage-window as to how Colonel Armytage was bearing his journey.

It was dark when the country-house of Don Josef was reached. He literally made his house the home of the foreigners, for he made them occupy all the best rooms, and retired himself to a small chamber remote from all the rest. It was one of those glorious nights which in no part of Europe are seen to greater advantage than in the clear atmosphere of Spain. The moon, in full lustre, shone out from a sky undimmed by a single cloud, and every object on which its light fell stood out clear and defined, casting the darkest of shadows behind it.

When the guerilla band had been refreshed they assembled in the patio, or yard in front of the house, and gave vent to their satisfaction at their victory in patriotic songs. It was great enjoyment to Morton to find himself again by the side of Edda, and to feel that he had just conferred so great a benefit on her father that he could scarcely refuse his consent to their union. He little knew the unyielding nature of the man with whom he had to deal. Both Edda and Ronald referred to the threats they had heard uttered by Alfonse Gerardin.

"I cannot understand him," she said, "who he is, nor what he is. My father certainly favoured his suit in a way I could not fancy he would do that of a person of whom he knew nothing, while he treats you, whom he does know, with evident dislike. I cannot conceal it from myself. You know the pain it must give me. Nor can I help owning that my father is acting a cruel and wrong part."

Ronald knew how near the enemy were, and would have been anxious for the safety of his friends had not Don Josef assured him that he had sent out scouts to watch their movements, and to give the earliest notice of their approach.

The next day a surgeon arrived, who pronounced the wounds Colonel Armytage had received to be in no way dangerous, but expressed his opinion that he would be unfit for a long time to perform the duties intrusted to him. Of this the colonel himself seemed to be fully aware, and he accordingly at once wrote to beg that he might be superseded.

In the afternoon a scout arrived with the information that the French were retreating northward. This was accounted for by the rumour of the approach of a strong Spanish force.

Ronald would gladly have remained to watch over the safety of Edda and her parents, and Don Josef did not fail to employ every argument he could think of to persuade him that he would be right in so doing. He had, however, been absent from his ship much longer than had been intended; and though he could give a very good account of the way he had employed his time, and he knew that his captain would be perfectly satisfied, he felt sure that she would be employed in some work in which he would wish to take a part. Edda had too high a sense of the duty of an officer to attempt for a moment to detain him, though her sad looks showed how much she felt the parting. She talked hopefully of the future; of the happiness which might be in store for them when her father's objections were overcome.

"They must be conquered some day," she exclaimed. "Why should he object on the score of birth? We are cousins, though distant ones, and as for fortune, I have never been ambitious, and shall be well content to share what you may have, till—You know some day, Ronald, Lunnasting in all probability will be mine. I am not greedy of it. I would gladly see it belong to my long-lost cousin, poor aunt Hilda's son, if he could be found; but after the lapse of so many years, that is not likely. Indeed, it is for your sake alone, Ronald, that I should prize it."

Ronald pressed her to his heart. "Thanks, thanks, generous one," he whispered. "We may yet obtain ample fortune to satisfy our wishes. Of that I have little fear."

The tears came into Mrs Armytage's eyes when Ronald wished her farewell. It appeared to her as if the only person to whom she could look with confidence for protection and support was about to leave her, for even should Colonel Armytage recover his health, his temper was not likely to improve, while, should he grow worse, she would be left in a still more helpless condition.

Ten days more passed, and a fine brig stood into the harbour. The master came on shore, and finding out Colonel Armytage, announced himself as Captain Carlton, of the "Helen," bound direct for London. Nothing could be more convenient; every arrangement was soon concluded; the colonel and his family went on board; the generous Don Josef bade them farewell, and with a favourable breeze, a course was shaped for the Straits of Gibraltar.

The "Helen" remained only a couple of days at Gibraltar. Colonel Armytage refused to go on shore, or to allow his wife or daughter to go. They were glad, therefore, once more to be at sea. The weather continued fine, and the wind favourable, and there was every promise of a prosperous voyage. The wind was from the south-east, and as the "Helen" ran along the coast of Portugal the sea was perfectly smooth, except that a slight ripple played over its surface, on which the sun sparkled with dazzling brilliancy. An awning was spread, under which the ladies sat, and when the rock of Lisbon rose in view and the pine-crowned heights of Cintra, just then especially notorious, not for its beauty, not for its orange groves, but on account of the disgraceful treaty which had there lately been concluded, even Colonel Armytage condescended to come on deck, and to admire the beauty of the scene. Through their glasses the Cork convent could be seen perched on its lofty crags, and below them to the north the mass of odd-looking buildings known as the palace of Mafra, containing a royal residence, a monastery, barracks, and a church. Further north, little more could be seen than a long line of yellow sand, with pine-covered hills.

"Now, ladies, I think you have seen enough of Portugal," said Captain Carlton. "We'll haul off the shore, if you please; for, to tell you the truth, it's a treacherous coast, which I'm in no way fond of. From here, right away till we come to Vigo in Spain, there is not a single harbour into which a ship can run for shelter; I don't say that it's a disgrace to the people—they didn't make the coast; it was so formed for some good reason, I doubt not, but still I always like to give it a wide berth."

The fine weather continued till the "Helen" had passed Cape Ortegal, and was fairly in the Bay of Biscay. The wind then increased, and became variable, and dark clouds were seen banking up in the south-western horizon. The kind old captain became less cheerful than usual. The brig no longer glided on smoothly and sedately as before, but began to roll and pitch with the rising sea. The ladies came on deck, but were unable to read and work as they had previously done, but Edda declared that she enjoyed the change, and found amusement in looking at the dancing seas, and in watching a shoal of porpoises which went careering along, sporting and rolling and keeping way with the brig without effort.

"Ah, young lady, you are looking at those fellows, are you?" said Captain Carlton. "Just watch how they go along. Now I have heard people on shore talk of a porpoise as a fat, heavy creature who hasn't got any spirit in him, just like a hog, for instance, wallowing in the mud. I should like to see the race-horse which could keep up with them. They would beat that gallant frigate which passed us the other day, and as to this brig you see, they swim round and round her as if she was at anchor, and we are going a good seven knots through the water. People fancy when they see their black tails when they dive that they are rolling along, but the truth is, there isn't a creature darts quicker through its native element than a porpoise."

The captain's lecture on the much-maligned fish was suddenly brought to a close by a cry from the masthead of a sail on the larboard-quarter. In war time merchantmen keep a sharp look-out, or ought to do so, that they may have timely notice to enable them to avoid an enemy. On the present occasion all Captain Carlton could do was to make more sail and to continue the same course he had been steering. As there were threatenings of a stiff breeze, if not of a gale, the hands were ordered to stand by to take it in again, should it be necessary.

The stranger gained rapidly on the brig, and as she was pronounced to be a large ship, then a man-of-war from the squareness of her yards, and at length a frigate—

"Could she be the 'Imperious?'" Edda ventured to ask.

The old captain shook his head.

"No, my dear young lady," he answered gravely; "it goes to my heart to alarm you, but the truth must be spoken. I am very much afraid that the stranger is an enemy."

Edda's heart sunk within her. English prisoners, she knew, whether combatants or not, were detained in France for years, and the Emperor had shown his intention of keeping them till he had attained the objects he sought.

Mrs Armytage fainted when she heard the report, and the colonel came on deck to ascertain its truth. He evidently did not like the look of things.

"Cannot you make this craft of yours sail faster?" he asked, in an angry tone of the master.

"It is the people who built her, sir, are to blame, not me. I am doing, and will do, all a seaman can accomplish to escape the enemy; I have no wish to be taken. I have a wife and family waiting my return home, and Heaven have mercy on them! we shall be utterly ruined if the brig is taken."

Colonel Armytage was silent; the chances of escape seemed small indeed. Still pressed as she was with a far larger amount of canvas than the master would have ventured to carry under ordinary circumstances, the brig tore through the rising seas at a greater rate than had ever before probably been got out of her.

The master stood watching the masts and spars with an anxious eye. They bent and cracked with the greatly increased strain to which they were exposed; the weather-shrouds and stays were tautened to the utmost. At length the master turned round to Edda and Mrs Armytage, who, having recovered from her first alarm, had come up on deck.

"My dear young lady, and you, ma'am, do go below, let me pray you; this is no place for you," he said, with deep earnestness. "Any moment we may have the masts and spars rattling down on our heads, or the enemy's shot flying along our decks. Please Heaven, while the masts stand we'll hold on. They can but take us in the end; but, dear ladies, do go below. We shall act more like men if we know that you are safe."

Thus urged, most unwillingly Edda and her mother retired to the cabin. The colonel, however, remained on deck.

"It shall never be said that where danger was present I was absent," he remarked.

"Maybe, but you would be of much more use looking after your wife and daughter in the cabin," muttered the honest old captain.

Edda and Mrs Armytage went into their own cabin. They knelt down. They could not strive like men, but they could pray that the ship might be preserved from the threatened danger, or, if it was Heaven's will that it should overtake her, that they might have strength given them to bear whatever it was their lot to suffer.

The breeze was freshening rapidly, the movement of the brig increased as she plunged with a violent jerk into one sea, and then rose up the watery ridge only to sink down again into another watery valley. Still on she tore. The master was keeping his word. On a sudden there was a cry; then followed a fearful crash.

"Oh, my father! he may have been killed," exclaimed Edda, as she rushed on deck.

Both the masts had gone by the board, and the brig lay a helpless wreck on the tossing waters. The frigate was close to them. For an instant a wild hope rose in Edda's heart. Was she after all the "Imperious?"

The hope was soon banished. The flag of France flew out from the stranger's peak. Edda looked round for her father, trembling with fear. He had fallen, and lay on the deck unable to rise. She rushed towards him, all his unkindness, his harshness and injustice forgotten. She attempted to lift him up; but her strength was unequal to the task. He soon somewhat recovered.

"I am not materially injured, I fancy," he said at length. "This is a fearful accident; I was struck by a falling block, and was stunned. I shall be myself again directly. But where is the master? What has become of the crew?"

Edda gazed horror-struck at the spectacle which met her sight. Several of the men lay crushed under the masts and heavy spars which had fallen on the deck, a few who had leaped below were returning to their assistance, but Captain Carlton was nowhere to be seen. Just then a cry struck Edda's ears; she gazed out on the foam-covered sea. Among the wildly leaping waves she caught sight of the old master's countenance— it was turned towards the brig with a look of agony. He was swimming bravely, sorely buffeted as he was by the seas. The effort was beyond his strength. With a wild cry he threw up his arms, and the next sea rolled over his head.

Edda would have sunk with horror had not the call of duty supported her.

"Father! oh come below! we can do nothing to help ourselves, and shall be safe there," she exclaimed, in an imploring tone.

"No, no, girl; I must be on deck to receive our captors. See, they are coming!"

He raised himself to his feet, and was pointing to the frigate, which, having passed to windward of the dismasted brig, was now hove-to. A boat was at that instant being lowered from her side.

"Then I will not leave you, father," said his daughter, clinging to the bulwarks near him.

The boat from the French frigate approached; she came close to the brig, but it was both difficult and dangerous for the crew to get on board. More than once they made the attempt, and each time the boat was driven off again by the sea; at last they shouted to the English seamen to come and help them. The surviving crew of the brig had gone below, as is the practice of seamen likely to be captured, to put on their best clothing and to secure any valuables belonging to them. At last they appeared, and with their assistance and the ropes they hove-to the boat, and the Frenchmen succeeded in getting on board. Their officer was the first up the side. Edda looked at him, and almost shrieked with terror when she recognised Alfonse Gerardin.



CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

THE "IMPERIOUS" HOMEWARD BOUND—THE FIRE-SHIPS ARE PREPARED—THE FRENCH FLEET IN BASQUE ROADS—RONALD CONDUCTS A FIRE-SHIP—GENERAL EXPLOSION OF FIRE-SHIPS.

The "Imperious," with a fine breeze from the southward, was standing across the Bay of Biscay. She had been actively engaged all the time she had been in the Mediterranean, chiefly on the coasts of France and Spain, capturing armed ships and merchantmen, destroying telegraph stations, blowing up forts, and harassing the enemy in every possible way.

The Marquis de Medea and his daughter, with Father Mendez, had been, at their own request, put on board a Spanish vessel bound round to Cadiz, as they fancied that the unsettled state of the country would make the journey by land dangerous and disagreeable. Don Tacon had before that been sent to Malta to take his trial as a pirate, but by some means or other he had been completely, if not honourably, acquitted, and very soon afterwards disappeared from the island. He was supposed by some speedily to have taken to his old courses, and several merchantmen reported that they had been chased by a suspicious-looking lateen-rigged craft, on their passage between Gibraltar and Malta. He had latterly, when the ship was at sea, been allowed a good deal of liberty on board the frigate, and had been allowed to go about the decks at pleasure.

He was, however, again deprived of this liberty in consequence of having been found one day climbing up over the quarter, as if he had been prying into the captain's cabin. No one had seen him go; it was, therefore, supposed that he must have been concealed there for some time. When caught he at once begged to be secured.

"My life is not safe if I am left at liberty," he exclaimed, frantically tearing his hair. "I have looked at the past. I look at the future. I am miserable. I see nothing but wretchedness before me. I contemplated self-destruction. I purposed dropping quietly over the stern into the water. I did not wish to create confusion. If I had jumped overboard before you all, a boat would have been lowered, and I should have been picked up; but—must I own it?—my courage failed me. I—I who have been in a hundred fights, and have braved death in a thousand forms—I felt fear. I clung to the side trembling, and climbed on board again, and here I am."

Ronald had a very just suspicion that Don Tacon was acting. He had formed, indeed, a perfectly just estimate of his consummate impudence and roguery, but still it was difficult to account for the reason of his having got there.

He might have gone there for the sake of eaves-dropping, for the captain was in the cabin at the time, but then it was not likely that he understood English enough to comprehend what was said. There was one very suspicious circumstance against the worthy Tacon.

A few days before Ronald had been with the captain in his cabin discussing a very important matter. It was no less than Lord Claymore's long-projected plan of destroying the French fleet whenever it could be found collected in one of these exposed roadsteads. Lord Claymore had become more than ever sanguine as to the success of his plan.

"It must succeed, my dear Morton," he exclaimed vehemently. "It will be of advantage to our country, equal to that of a great victory; but it will be gained without one-tenth part of the loss which a general action would entail. I must obtain my recall forthwith, and lay my plans before the Admiralty. They must listen to me; they can scarcely refuse to consider my plans. They won't do it for love; they never do love a man who has got brains in his head, unless those brains are subservient to their will and pleasure."

Ronald remembered that such had been some of the remarks made on the occasion referred to. Lord Claymore was rather inclined to laugh at his suspicions; but notwithstanding that, took good care that Senor Tacon should not again have an opportunity of throwing himself overboard.

It was not till some time after the Don had been sent to Malta, that Lord Claymore missed a couple of sheets of paper, on which he had drawn out some of his proposed plans. He, however, thought that very likely they had been blown overboard, and troubled himself no more about the matter. After some time he obtained his recall, and the frigate was now on her way to England.

"A sail on the starboard bow!" was the cry from the masthead. The captain was anxious to get to England, and if he chased in that direction he should be led deep into the bay, and perhaps not be able to get out again; but when the stranger was made out to be a frigate, and, in all probability an enemy, the temptation to pursue her was irresistible. The helm was put up and all sail made in chase of the stranger. Away flew the gallant "Imperious," with the wind on her quarter, and far ahead kept the other frigate, steering directly in for the French coast. There could be now no longer any doubt that she was an enemy. An English ship could never have run in that way; but it was strongly suspected that the Emperor had ordered his naval officers to avoid fighting unless sure of success.

Once having commenced a pursuit Lord Claymore was not the man to give it up until he had caught the chase, or run her to earth. Every means that could be thought of was tried to increase the speed of the frigate, but it was soon evident that the enemy was very fast and could easily keep ahead. Still Lord Claymore hoped that some chance might enable him to come up with her and bring her to action. The weather, however continued fine, which was so far in favour of the Frenchman, that there was little chance of his carrying away any masts or spars, by which the "Imperious" might have gained an advantage. Night drew on; but the moon rose and her beams fell on the chase exactly in the position she had so long held. It was now very evident that she was steering for Basque Roads.

"She may get there but we'll bring her out for all that," exclaimed the captain, as he walked the deck, with his night-glass in hand, watching the chase.

Hour after hour passed without the slightest alteration in the relative position of the two frigates. Day came and the chase continued.

The officers each snatched a few hours' rest; the captain probably took less than any one. The land was made out ahead and then on the starboard bow. It was the island of Oleron, forming the south side of Basque Roads. There was no longer any hope of bringing the enemy to action, still the "Imperious" stood on. The chase was seen to bring up under a strong fort, below which several line-of-battle ships and two frigates were at anchor.

"The fellow has shown us his den, at all events," observed Lord Claymore, examining the enemy's squadron, while the frigate continued standing in towards the anchorage. The crew were at their stations, eyeing the French squadron and forts with the most perfect unconcern, though it was possible for them, had they made the attempt, to blow the English frigate out of the water; but so perfect was the confidence of the seamen in the captain, that they felt as if there was no more danger than in Portsmouth Harbour.

"Morton!" exclaimed the captain, "look at that fleet of Frenchmen. Think of the havoc and devastation they will commit among our merchantmen and colonies if they get free away from this. Every one of them we could destroy with our fire-ships and explosion vessels. It must be done. I shall never forgive myself if I do not stir every nerve to get the Admiralty to undertake it. We will stand further in. I delight in thus bearding them in their very harbours."

A shot, however, from the fort, which flew between the masts, showed him that he had stood close enough in. The frigate wore round, and did what Job Truefitt observed she wasn't often apt to do—showed her stern to the enemy. It was surprising that she was not pursued. This made Lord Claymore suspect that the line-of-battle ships were not yet completely ready for sea.

Away sailed the "Imperious" with all the haste she could make. The wind held fair; England was soon reached. A powerful squadron, under Lord Gambier, was despatched to watch the enemy's fleet, and the captain of the "Imperious" used every exertion to obtain leave to carry out his plans.

While the captain was absent in London, Morton had charge of the ship. He seldom or never went on shore. As soon as the frigate reached Spithead he got Glover to write to his cousin, Mrs Edmonstone, to inquire for the Armytages. Her answer was unsatisfactory; she had heard nothing of them for several months. She, indeed, knew no more of their movements than did Ronald himself. His mind was racked with the most painful doubts and fears. He could not even conjecture where they were. He had expected to have heard that they had long ago arrived in England. He missed the counsel and support of his father at the present juncture. Rolf had some time before returned to England with old Doull and Eagleshay. He had from thence, accompanied by them, gone to Shetland, where he had re-occupied his farm. Ronald received a letter from him. He had abundance of occupation in repairing the house and improving the property, which was in a sadly neglected state. He had not seen Sir Marcus Wardhill, but he understood that he was failing. The Lady Hilda seldom left the castle. She was said to spend most of the hours of the day and night in her turret chamber, occupying herself with her books, though, as the country people observed, she got very little good out of them. "But you know, my dear Ronald," he added, "I am not the man to interfere with my neighbours' doings. I wish that the poor Lady Hilda's lot had been happier, and as for Sir Marcus, whatever may be his feelings towards me, I never bore him any ill-will." In a P.S. he added, "I have just had a visit from Lawrence Brindister; he looks wonderfully little changed. It is thought wears out a man, they say, and he, poor man, does not do much in that way. He shook me warmly by the hand and shuffled about the room, examining everything, and talking of old times, while he made his comments on everything he saw. He is madder, in my opinion, than ever, for he talked in the strangest way of events of which he was cognisant; but when I questioned him, said he should say nothing till you made your appearance. I hope, therefore, Ronald, that you will come as soon as you can get leave, and induce our eccentric cousin to give us the information he possesses, though I confess that I shall not be surprised if after all it turns out he knows nothing of importance. I received a visit from my old friend Captain Maitland. He came over in his boat from North Maven. He bears his eighty winters wonderfully well. I used to think him an oldish man nearly thirty years ago. How time flies. Though I say come when you can, I would not for a moment draw you away from your duty. You know that so well that I need not have said so. I shall be looking soon for your promotion. I met Captain Courtney while I was in Portsmouth; he told me that you were sure to get it, and that he would see that you were not passed by. Again, my dear boy, good-bye. No more at present from your affectionate father—

"R.M."

His father's letter cheered Ronald for a time. He was glad to find that he was contented with the lot he had selected, and he determined not to tell him of his own anxieties and unhappiness. Glover, at his request, again made inquiries of Mrs Edmonstone, but her reply was as before— she could gain no information about the Armytages. The duties of the ship, however, gave Ronald ample occupation, so that he had very little time to think about himself.

Lord Claymore now returned on board in high spirits. He had obtained his object, and was at once to set to work to prepare the explosion vessels and fire-ships according to his proposed plan.

"We must, however, part, Morton, I am on many accounts sorry to say," he observed.

"Indeed, so am I, my lord, to hear you say so," answered Ronald. "I had hoped to continue with you in the 'Imperious' till she was paid off."

"Why, the fact is, my dear Captain Morton, I have got your commission in my pocket, and appointment to a sixteen-gun sloop-of-war, the 'Scorpion.' I met Courtney at the Admiralty, and he insisted on my bringing it down to you, it having just been put into his hands by the first lord. I sincerely congratulate you, though I must say you have only obtained what you deserve."

Morton's heart bounded. What officer's does not on receiving unexpectedly his promotion! He thanked Lord Claymore most cordially.

"Come on shore then with me in an hour, and go on board your ship and take command," said Lord Claymore. "Get her ready for sea as rapidly as possible. You will accompany me, and I hope before our return we shall have managed to destroy the whole French fleet."

Ronald begged that Truefitt and Doull might accompany him, a request that was at once granted; and then he put in a word for Glover, and asked if he might have him as a first lieutenant.

"Yes, I esteem him; he is a good officer, but I can get a man to fill his place, who will suit me better," was the answer.

So it was arranged. Ronald went on board and read his commission. Glover and his two constant followers joined in a few days, and the "Scorpion" was rapidly got ready for sea.

Two explosion vessels were, in the meantime, being prepared under Lord Claymore's directions, and ten or a dozen fire-ships. The first were terrific engines of destruction. Ronald accompanied him on board one of them. She in the first place contained one thousand five hundred barrels of gunpowder, in casks, placed on end, and bound tightly together by stout ropes; the intervening spaces were filled with wet sand, rammed down with great force, so that the whole formed one solid mass. On the top of it were placed an immense number of hand grenades and rockets, and no less than four hundred live shells with short fusees, so that they might explode soon after the fire reached them.

"What do you think of that?" asked Lord Claymore. "Woe betide the unfortunate ship she comes in contact with," he answered. "Not a man of her crew can escape, I should think."

The "Imperious," with the two explosion vessels, the "Scorpion," and such of the fire-ships as were ready, sailed for the Bay of Biscay. They reached the English blockading squadron under Lord Gambier. Many of the captains were highly indignant at finding one junior to themselves appointed to so important a charge.

"I hate to see gallant men yield to feelings so contemptible," observed Lord Claymore. "But let them rail on. He laughs who wins."

If the deed was to be done, no time was to be lost. The time for the terrific experiment arrived. The French ships lay at their anchors across the harbour with springs on their cables, in two lines, so placed that the broadsides of the inner line could be fired clear of the outer one. The island of Aix, with powerful batteries, guarded them on one side, that of Oleron, also with strong forts, on the other. To make their position still more secure, a boom of half a mile in length, composed of numerous spars, and formed in the shape of an obtuse angle, was placed in front of them, and secured by anchors and cables of immense thickness.

The French fleet consisted of twelve line-of-battle ships, a store-ship of fifty guns, and three frigates, amounting altogether to a number of guns perfectly capable of sinking the whole British fleet, had they attempted to force an entrance.

Besides the line-of-battle ships, the French had three frigates placed as an advanced guard in front of the other lines, and close to the boom. This boom was, as has been said, composed of a great number of spars lashed together and floated by large buoys, and was secured in its position by huge anchors and cables of great thickness. The boom was in the shape of an obtuse angle, the apex facing out, so that, a vessel striking it would glance off either on one side or the other.

The object to be attained was, first to force the boom with the explosion vessels, so as to allow an entrance for the fireships. By means of these fire-ships it was believed that the whole French squadron might be destroyed.

The "Scorpion" lay near the "Imperious," and Lord Claymore invited Ronald to accompany him one night to reconnoitre the enemy's position.

Ronald had been dining with Lord Claymore. Soon after it was dark they left the frigate in the captain's gig, and pulled with muffled oars towards the boom. The night was very dark, but the lights on board the enemy's ships could be clearly made out. They enabled Morton, who had taken the helm, to steer a right course. The object to be guarded against was falling in with any of the French boats which would be very likely rowing guard. A midshipman with a sharp pair of eyes was placed in the bows to give instant notice of the appearance of any other boat. It was supposed that, to a certainty, the French would have guard-boats on the watch near their boom, and the danger to be apprehended was coming suddenly upon them. However, the gig was a remarkably fast boat, and Morton hoped that they might easily escape if pursued. Of course his companion had no doubt about it, or he would not have run the risk, seeing that so much depended on his superintendence of the undertaking in hand. Except the rush of the tide as it swept by, a perfect silence reigned on the waters.

"How calm and solemn is the night?" thought Ronald. "How different will be to-morrow, when all this space will be full of burning ships, and the roar of guns and shrieks of dismay and agony will rend the air!"

At length the boom was reached: they now spoke in low whispers. Lord Claymore pointed out a frigate close to on the other side of it.

"This must be our point of attack," he observed; "we'll break the boom and then set fire to that frigate. She will cut her cables to escape her doom, and will carry consternation and confusion among the ships astern."

"The plan must succeed if all hands do their duty," answered Ronald.

"That is the point," said Lord Claymore somewhat bitterly. "Many of those to be employed are untried. I wish that I could trust all as I do you. We'll pull along by the boom a little further, and then make the best of our way on board."

The gig had not proceeded fifty fathoms when a voice hailed, "Qui va la?"

"Round with the boat, Morton. Pull up your larboard oars, lads," whispered the captain.

Again a Frenchman hailed, and immediately afterwards a bullet came whizzing close to them. The gig's crew required no urging to bend to their oars. They must have been seen, for a whole volley followed them. They were not at first pursued, and it was evident that the French boats were at the inner side of the boom.

The shot continued to fall thickly round them, but no one was hit. At last they got beyond the range of fire.

"Avast pulling!" cried Lord Claymore.

The sound of oars was heard on either hand. It would be impossible to fight the enemy with any hope of success. Plight was their only resource. Morton steered for the frigate. The enemy's boats continued to come after them. Morton kept a look-out for the frigate's light. The Frenchmen saw at length that the pursuit was useless, and gave it up. No sooner was this ascertained than Lord Claymore began to talk on various subjects with as much composure as if they had not just narrowly escaped losing their lives or liberty.

A strong leading wind was required to execute the project. It came at last. In the afternoon the boats assembled round the various vessels destined for the undertaking, which then proceeded towards the stations allotted to them in readiness for the night, when their operations were to commence.

It was a solemn time even for the thoughtless, and highly exciting to the most phlegmatic. To many the undertaking appeared desperate in the extreme, Ronald had unbounded confidence in the judgment and bravery of their leader. He had himself volunteered to conduct one of the fire-ships. Lord Claymore was to lead in the largest explosion vessel.

Two gun-brigs were stationed at each end of the enemy's line, and within the distance of two miles. They had lights hoisted to guide their friends, but screened from the enemy. In the centre space between these two vessels the fire-ships were to be conducted. The "Imperious" and three other frigates anchored about a gun-shot and a half from the boom to support the boats accompanying the fire-ships. Five or six sloops-of-war and brigs were placed near the east end of the island to make a diversion, while a bomb-vessel and several small craft, supplied with rockets, took up their stations near the Boyart shoal.

Under the veil of night the vessels took up their stations. The wind, which was increasing, blew directly into the harbour. In the centre of the space formed by the two light-vessels, the frigates, and the boom, were collected the fleet of fire-ships and the explosion vessels.

The awful moment had arrived. The terrific work of destruction was to begin. The darkness was intense. The two lights on either hand were the only guides on which those piloting the vessels had to depend. The explosion vessels led the way, under all sail. Morton stood at the helm of his fireship to guide her course, his heart beating as it had seldom beat before. He was calm and collected, but fully impressed with the awful nature of the work in which he was engaged. The darkness rendered the moment still more solemn. He could not help feeling also that at any instant he and those with him might be launched into eternity.

The train was laid, all was ready; a spark from one of the explosion vessels might ignite it suddenly. He could not see live yards from where he stood. The darkness was oppressive. A single star in the sky above would have been a relief. His ship proceeded under easy sail, to give time for the explosion vessels to produce the intended effect. The eyes of all on board were on the watch for the awful event. They could hear the people of the vessels on either side of them, but could not catch even an outline of their forms. Thus the fleet of fire-ships glided on to their work of destruction.

"The leading explosion vessel must be near the boom," observed Job Truefitt, who had accompanied him. "Nothing can have gone amiss, I hope."

"Not where he is, sir," answered Bob, confidently. "See—there! there!"

A terrific roar was heard. Bright flames darted forth, seeming to reach the very sky, and illuminating the whole surrounding space hitherto shrouded in darkness. In the centre the light fell on the fire-ships on either side, on the two light vessels with the high land and the forts behind them, while right ahead was the French fleet riding calmly at anchor. Like some ocean volcano, the explosion vessel continued for a few moments sending upwards its sheets of flame, while missiles of every description were flying in showers around.

Ronald trembled for the fate of his gallant friend. Could he have had time to escape?

Ronald's own turn was to come soon. The fire which had been raging so furiously, ceased as rapidly as it had commenced, and all was again dark. Not a minute had passed when a second volcano burst forth, and burnt like the first.

"Now, lads, make sail!" shouted Ronald.

The topsails were on the caps; they were hoisted and sheeted home; the courses were let fall, and Ronald steered his fire-ship directly for the spot where the first explosion had taken place. He hoped the boom had been broken, but if not, he expected to be able to force a passage with his ship. He fancied that he heard Lord Claymore hail as he passed. He hoped that it was his voice. The wind blew stronger and stronger. On flew the fire-ship. The boom was reached. With a crash she forced her way through it. She was bearing directly down for the French fleet.

"To the boats!" shouted Ronald.

The cry was repeated by the other officers with him.

"Wait till I give the word to shove off, so that no one may be left behind. To your stations, and fire the trains," he added. He looked to ascertain that the helm was properly placed, and that the vessel was standing the right way. The instant after small snake-like lines of fire was seen stealing along the decks. Ronald sprang to the side, the deck, as he did so, seemed to lift beneath his feet. He threw himself over the bulwarks, and slid down by a rope left there for the purpose, into the boat.

"Shove off! shove off!" he shouted.

The other officers were leaping into their respective boats. He hoped that he was, as he intended to be, the last to leave the ship. Flames were bursting forth on every side of the ship, and climbing up the masts; rockets were going off, and fiery missiles of all sorts were rising from the hold, and falling around in every direction. Thus amply capable of fulfilling her mission of death and destruction, she bore down on the French ships.

The boats shoved off, but one poor fellow was blown up before he reached the one to which he belonged, and his mangled form fell close to the captain's gig.

The rockets, too, were flying in every direction, as many directing their course towards the retreating boats as towards the ships of the enemy. No sooner, too, did the French perceive the nature of their approaching foe than they opened their fire on her, for the purpose of knocking away her masts, and altering the direction in which she was coming. Their shot also fell thickly round the boats.

The lights from his fire-ship showed Morton several others approaching the spot; and now the flames burst forth rapidly from one after the other; the distance at which they were ignited showing in a certain degree the amount of courage and judgment possessed by those who commanded them. Some were close to the boom, others were a mile, and others nearly two miles further off. On drove the fiery masses, like huge monsters of destruction, independent of human control.

Every object, far and near, was now lighted up by their flames. On, on they went, carrying havoc, terror, and confusion wherever they went; their loud explosions, added to the roar of the guns, which opened on them from the whole French squadron, increasing the awfulness of the scene. The enemy soon saw that their firing was in vain: even their boats failed to tow aside the fiery masses borne down on them by the gale. One after the other they cut their cables, and attempted to run up the harbour; but in the darkness and confusion, aided by terror at their approaching foes, they ran on shore, some on one side, some on the other; some were already grappled by the flaming ships, which literally covered them with showers of fire, while all the time the roar of the guns sounded as if a general action was taking place. Most of the fire-ships had got inside the boom, but Morton saw that one only just beginning to burn would miss it.

"Now, my lads, we'll get hold of her, and tow her down on the Frenchmen!" he exclaimed.

"Ay, ay, sir! we're all ready," was the answer.

On they dashed towards the flaming mass. They got hold of the burning vessel, and towed her up towards the now retreating French ships.

Ronald saw Lord Claymore similarly engaged with another fire-ship. While they were pulling on one of the French frigates made sail, and passed to windward of them. As she did so she discharged her broadside into the two fire-ships, but the boats escaped without damage.

They were, however, compelled to let go, and allow the fire-ships to proceed on their course alone.

"Well done, Morton, those craft are performing their duty admirably!" he shouted. "It is time, however, to be out of this; we can do no more at present, I fear."

Morton's own boats and others had joined with Lord Claymore's. There was no difficulty now in seeing their way; the fire-ships gave them light enough. The explosions and the cannonading had much lulled the wind; the boats which had ventured inside the boom had again nearly reached it, when one of the enemy, which had driven on shore, was seen to be grappled by a fire-ship. In vain the Frenchmen strove to free themselves; their burning enemy held them in her deadly embrace till their ship was set on fire in several places; not till then did the fire-ship drift on, leaving them to their fate. They were lowering some of their boats, but most of them had been destroyed. It was too clear that numbers of the hapless crew must fall victims to the flames.

"They are no longer enemies—we'll try and save them," shouted Morton.

His proposal met with a ready response from the officers and crews of the other boats, and in spite of the shot from the heated guns of the burning ship, away they dashed to the rescue of the Frenchmen.



CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

EDDA IN GERARDIN'S POWER—THE FRIGATE STEERS FOR ROCHELLE—CAPTAIN TACON—PEDRO ALTAREZ AND FATHER MENDEZ—TACON BETRAYS LORD CLAYMORE'S PLANS.

When Edda Armytage discovered by whom the brig had been captured, her dread of the consequences, added to the grief and terror she had been experiencing, overcame her, and she fainted. When she returned to consciousness she found herself on a sofa in a handsome well-furnished cabin; her mother was tenderly watching by her side, and her father was walking up and down making observations partly to himself and partly to his wife.

"Yes, it is provoking to be captured just as we were reaching England, I own that," he observed. "How long we may be detained it is impossible to say. Yet things might be much worse. For the first lieutenant of the ship I have a great regard. You never appreciated him properly, Edda. Is that poor daughter of ours likely to come round soon? I must beg the surgeon of the ship to see her. Oh, well, if you think there is no danger perhaps she is better as she is. Now, with regard to this young officer, I take a deep interest in him. His history is, I confess, a mystery, but I hope to have the means of clearing it up. You, of all people, ought to take an interest in him. How constant and devoted he is to our daughter: from the first time he met her at Calcutta he admired her: nothing could be more tender or delicate than were his attentions to her when we were in his power. She has since made him the most ungrateful return. Her coldness, and the scornful way in which she treated him, was enough to drive any man away unless he was truly and sincerely attached. You tell me she does not and cannot love him. All nonsense. It is a daughter's duty to set her affections where her father desires. I have my reasons. That is sufficient. You speak of that young English lieutenant. He is a fine-looking fellow—granted. But what else is he? The son of a boatswain—not holding the rank of a gentleman. He has himself risen from before the mast. He is said to be held in estimation in his own service—granted; but he certainly, according to my idea, showed the white feather in that duel affair with young Maguire."

"But, Colonel Armytage, surely you do not forget that this Monsieur Gerardin was among those who made that dreadful attack on us in Spain— that he certainly attempted to carry off Edda, and would have succeeded had it not been for Mr Morton's gallantry."

Mrs Armytage had seldom ventured to differ so strongly with her husband.

"I have always doubted whether it was Gerardin who figured on that occasion," he answered. "Morton, of course, is ready to suppose so, and you and Edda were too frightened, I suspect, to know what happened. Appearances are deceptive; I did not recognise him, and depend on it he will be able to assure us that he was not there."

The lady after this dared not reply.

Colonel Armytage was in an excessively amiable mood. He was altogether not so much displeased at having been taken prisoner, for he anticipated very little satisfaction on his arrival in England. He had left it with an accumulation of debts, and he felt very sure that his creditors would give him no rest when they heard of his return. On the other hand he could live cheaply in France; the climate suited him; and he concluded that though he might be detained as a prisoner, he should be able to select his residence. But what pleased him most was the having fallen into the hands of his old acquaintance, Captain Gerardin, and his son, who, from his previous acquaintance with them, he was certain would do all in their power to make his position as agreeable as they could.

Edda had overheard the latter remarks made by her father. They did not contribute to afford her comfort, although they had the effect of arousing her attention. She kept her eyes shut, however, that she might have time to collect her thoughts. She soon comprehended very clearly what had happened, and remembering the counsel given her by Mrs Edmonstone, she resolved to treat the young foreigner with the same coldness which she had exhibited towards him at Calcutta. She forgot one very important point—their positions had been changed. He was then a prisoner—she was one now. At length, when her mother bent fondly over her with an expression of deep anxiety at her protracted fit, she could no longer resist opening her eyes to assure her that she was recovering.

A short time after this, a knock was heard at the door of the cabin, and the captain of the frigate entered. He said that he came to take the commands of his passengers as to the hour they would prefer having their meals. He was most anxious that they should enjoy every accommodation his ship could afford. He had not forgotten their kindness; and if they were destined to be made prisoners he was too happy to be their captor that he might prove to them his gratitude.

Though Captain Gerardin's countenance was sufficiently battered and weather-worn, there was an honest, good-natured expression about it which made Mrs Armytage feel far more confidence in his expressions than in those of his son.

It was not till the next day that Edda could be persuaded to go on deck; the sea was smooth, and the air soft and balmy, and she could not help looking out on the blue ocean which she had learned to love so much. Alfonse Gerardin only occasionally approached her. When he did so his manner was so gentle and courteous that she could not help acknowledging to herself that she had no reason to complain of him. Captain Gerardin was good-natured and hearty, and laughed and talked with her and her father and mother with well-bred ease and freedom.

The frigate, he told them, was attached to a squadron now at anchor near Rochelle, and that she was now on her way back to rejoin it.

The next morning land was seen ahead, and soon afterwards the frigate came up with a small lateen-rigged craft standing the same way. Captain Gerardin hailed, and asked where she was bound? In return, a person who said he was the captain, replied that he was in search of a French squadron which would soon be ready to sail, and that he had very important information to communicate.

"We will heave-to, and you can come on board," answered the captain of the French frigate.

In a short time a boat was launched from the deck of the little felucca, and pulled towards the frigate. She was soon alongside, and a tall thin old man made his appearance on deck. Captain Gerardin scrutinised him severely, and he stared at the captain in return.

"We have met before, my friend, if I mistake not," exclaimed the former. "I see before me Don Annibal Tacon."

"The same, though changed, I suspect, since we last parted," said Captain Tacon. "And I may venture to say that I behold one with whom I have exchanged some hard knocks, but love not the worse, and whom I once knew as Pedro Alvarez; though from the flag under which you serve I presume you have changed your name as well as your nation."

"You are right, friend Tacon," answered the captain. "What is more, you are the very man for whom I have been long searching; but let me have your information first, and then I will tell you the reason why I have been anxious to find you."

"It will take some time," answered the old pirate. "If you like to make sail, I will order the felucca to stand on in your wake."

"No; but direct her to stand on under our lee," said the captain. "Your people may be very honest and faithful, but they may take it into their heads to run away, and leave you with us. It is well to be cautious with such gentry."

Captain Tacon was profuse in his thanks. "Certainly, rogues like mine do require to be watched," he remarked. "Ah, as I have always thought, honesty is the best policy, but somehow or other I never could manage to adhere to it. But before you make sail I may as well bring some passengers I have on board here. They are rather unwilling passengers, I own; I might call them prisoners, for they are Spaniards, enemies to France—an old man, a marquis and his daughter, and a priest. I took them out of a vessel bound for Cadiz; and as I did not know how to dispose of her, after removing every thing of value, I scuttled her."

"But what did you do with her crew?" asked the captain of the frigate. "Let them go down in her," answered Tacon coolly. "I thought it would show my other prisoners that I was not a man to be trifled with."

"By all means let them come on board here," said the captain of the frigate, anxious to get the prisoners out of the power of such a ruffian. "I will send an officer and a boat to conduct them."

A boat was lowered; one of the lieutenants jumped into it, and soon returned from the felucca with the persons Tacon had described. They were helped up the frigate's side, and the old man advanced, with his daughter leaning on his arm, and followed by the priest, who, though concealed by those in front, was, by peering out on one side, able to take a steady survey of the officers on the quarter-deck.

The captain received the marquis and his daughter with great politeness.

"We have already ladies on board, and I hope mademoiselle will have no cause to complain of her treatment while on board the ship, though our accommodation is somewhat limited."

Mrs Armytage and Edda signed to the young lady to come to them, and she advanced at once, glad to find herself in the society of some of her own sex, whose countenances showed that they were worthy of her confidence.

The marquis stood alone, and the old priest was seen behind him.

No sooner did the eyes of the captain fall on him than he exclaimed, "What! Father Mendez is it you still on this side the grave? I meet you very opportunely, for of all people you were the one I desired to see. What! do you not recollect your old shipmate?"

"Perfectly," answered the priest in a low tone; "but I should have thought, Pedro Alvarez, that I was the person of all others you would have been most desirous of avoiding—I, who am cognisant of your crimes, of the sacrilege you have committed, of your traitorous conduct—you, an outcast from the bosom of our Holy Mother Church—even now I find you in command of a ship belonging to the enemies of our country. If I speak, it must be to pronounce the curse of our Holy Church and of Heaven on your head."

"Hold, father! you are going ahead too fast," exclaimed the old seaman, bluntly; "I have braved the curses of your Church too long to care for them; those of Heaven—Heaven alone can pronounce or inflict; but call not one a traitor who was unjustly driven from his country, and has never ceased to love her. However, you are an ancient comrade, and as such have the privilege of speaking freely. I wish to be on friendly terms with you and every human being. I am never happier with the feeling that I have made an enemy. But, as I was saving, I rejoice to meet you, for you can render me a service which will enable me to accomplish an object which has been nearer my heart than any other in the world."

The English prisoners, as well as the marquis and his daughter, were near.

"Yes, I will confess to you, my friends," he added, addressing them: "I am not a Frenchman by birth, but a Spaniard—Pedro Alvarez by name, as Father Mendez called me. With your wife's family, as I told you, Colonel Armytage, I am well acquainted. For many months I have resided in Shetland."

The marquis started, and cast an inquiring look at the captain's countenance.

"Circumstances occurred there of which Father Mendez is cognisant. We will speak of them by-and-by. My ship was wrecked, and my captain and all his crew perished. I was the only officer saved. On my return to Spain I was accused of heresy, and an officer of the Inquisition was sent to apprehend me. Perhaps the Marquis de Medea may know something about that. In self-defence I was compelled to slay the alguizal. I knew that the vengeance of the Inquisitors would follow me, and I escaped on board a ship-of-war which I had been appointed to command. I at length left her, and so managed that my officers believed me to be dead, and on their return home reported accordingly that such was the case. I wandered about in many parts of the world till the French Republic was established, and then I entered the naval service of France, and for convenience' sake changed my name. For long I continued in it and served France faithfully, but an event occurred which compelled me for a time to quit it. I went to India, and for several years I remained in the eastern seas in command of a privateer, and having made some money in her, I returned to Europe, when I received the command of this frigate. Such has been my career. There is no great mystery in it, but it was necessary that I should give an account of it, lest any present should consider me a monster in human shape, and guilty of all the crimes of which the father accuses me."

The marquis, who had been anxiously watching the captain's countenance, breathed more freely when he ceased speaking. "Certainly, my friend, I think that you have every excuse for your conduct," he exclaimed, offering his hand to the captain, who did not seem very anxious to accept it. "I for one shall be happy to welcome you back to Spain when peace is restored, and as the Inquisition has been abolished you need have no fear on that account. My friend, Father Mendez, will, I am sure, also retract his disparaging expressions he has applied to you. He must acknowledge that they are unjust—not such as you deserve. Come, father, say that you regret having spoken so harshly of the worthy officer."

But the father shook his head without speaking.

"It matters little," said the captain. "He laughs who wins. Perhaps when all the details are filled up, some of my very worthy friends may not be so well pleased."

He looked significantly at the marquis. At that moment Alfonse Gerardin crossed the quarter-deck. The marquis looked at him and started.

"Who is that young man?" he asked, in an agitated tone.

"One of the officers of my ship, as you see by his uniform," answered the captain, carelessly.

"A sail on the larboard beam!" sung out a man from the mast-head. Soon afterwards the cry was heard that there were three, four, five sail—a whole fleet of ships in sight. The captain went aloft, and so did several of the officers, to examine the strangers with their glasses. On their return on deck, they pronounced them to be English, but the greater number of the ships were well on the frigate's quarter.

"As soon as we are seen they will give chase, but we must do our utmost to get under the batteries of Aix before they reach us. We have a good excuse for running away."

More sail was set on the frigate. It was a question, however, whether she could reach the shelter which was sought for, in time. Several of the English ships were seen making sail in chase.

Edda Armytage looked out eagerly towards them. She at all events had no wish to remain a prisoner. Some wild hopes, too, rose in her heart as she understood that the pursuing ships were frigates.

"They will not overtake us, young lady," said the captain, who observed the nature of her thoughts. "I would rather, too, that you did not indulge in the wish, for I cannot bear to see you disappointed."

"Thank you for your kindness, but it is but natural that I should wish to be free," she answered, endeavouring to smile.

She fancied, by the countenances of some of the other officers, that they had not the same confidence as the captain. She observed the point for which the French frigate was steering, and it appeared to her that the English ships were just as near. This gave her hopes. Still she was afraid that the French would fight, and that there would be a desperate struggle before they allowed their ship to be captured. She was not aware that the French frigate was to windward of Rochelle, and that the English were some way to leeward, which gave the advantage to the former. The ships were, however, rapidly approaching each other. She saw, indeed, that even the captain thought that there might possibly be a fight, for the guns were being cast loose, and powder and shot were brought up on deck.

So much engaged had everybody been in observing the movements of the English fleet on the larboard beam, that no one had been watching the proceedings of the little felucca which had been on the other side. A loud oath from the lips of Don Tacon gave them notice that something was wrong, and looking out over the starboard bulwarks she was seen close hauled under all sail, standing away to the southward. The old man walked up and down the deck, throwing furious glances at her, while he stamped and swore, and tore his hair.

"The rogues, the villains, the scoundrels, to desert me thus!" he exclaimed. "To take advantage of me when they saw that I could not pursue them. Who is one to trust in this world? My curses go with you, you knaves!" he shouted, shaking his fist at the far-distant vessel. "Ha! it is some satisfaction to know that none of you know anything of navigation, and that you will cast yourselves away to a certainty. May every one of you be food for the fish before many days are over!"

No one pitied the old pirate, and he was allowed to rave on without interference.

The frigate tore through the water—the breeze was freshening. This was all in her favour. Still the British ships were coming up fast; the leading frigate began to fire her bow chasers, but the shot fell short. She waited for some time. One fortunate shot, and the Frenchman would be her prize. The forts on the island of Oleron could now be seen clearly with the naked eye. The English frigate drew still nearer. Captain Gerardin judged that she was nearly within gunshot. "Ladies, this quarter-deck is no longer a place for you," he said, addressing Edda and her mother, and the Spanish young lady. "I regret to drive you from it, but I must use the authority of a captain, and order you below."

Mrs Armytage and her daughter saw that he was in earnest, and prepared to obey. A shot which whistled close over the quarter showed the wisdom of his order.

"Oh, but my father—my father! will he not come?" exclaimed the daughter of the marquis in the most bitter anguish.

"Your father will do as he thinks fit, Donna Julia," said the captain. "I only exert my influence where ladies are concerned. Spain is at present united to England. He cannot be called on to fight."

"And you, Captain Alvarez, you are a Spaniard. Why unite with the enemies of Spain?"

"Spain disinherited me," he answered, turning away. "But, ladies, hasten below, there is no time to be lost."

Another shot came whistling by, and cut short all further conversation.

The captain now ordered a couple of long brass guns to be run out aft to return the compliment the English were paying him. They were served well, and the nearer the enemy approached, the more effective they became. At length a shot struck the taffrail, and glancing along the bulwarks, sent the splinters flying about the deck. The marquis turned pale.

"It is my duty to go and look after the safety of my daughter," he observed, diving rapidly below.

"I am not a belligerent, and if I am wounded I cannot attend to the spiritual affaire of the dying," said Father Mendez, following his patron.

"It matters little what becomes of me, since all my worldly possessions are on board the craft those scoundrels are carrying off," remarked Don Tacon, as he sulkily walked the deck.

Colonel Armytage kept his post on the deck, eyeing the English ships.

"It would be wiser for you, sir, to go below," said the captain. "We shall be hotly engaged soon, and there is no reason why you should expose your life."

"I have never avoided danger in whatever form it has presented itself," answered the colonel, haughtily. "I do not feel disposed to show on the present occasion that I have a faint heart."

"As you like, colonel," said the captain, shrugging his shoulders. "It is an odd fancy some men have for making targets of their heads."

The shots now came with greater rapidity on board the frigate. Her sails had several holes in them, and some of her standing as well as of her running rigging had been cut away. Still, only one of the chasing ships was near enough to fire, but the other two were coming up fast. The brave captain looked at his foes, and then at the friendly forts.

"We shall soon escape from them," he observed to his lieutenant. "But one of these shots may any moment cut short my career. Should I fall, fight the ship to the last. And, Alfonse, remember—Colonel Armytage and Father Mendez know all."

The French frigate was drawing in closer and closer to the fort. Suddenly one of the guns from it sent a shot flying past her towards her enemy. Several followed. The French garrison had got the range. Still, the Englishman did not give up the pursuit. A fortunate shot might enable him to bring the enemy to closer action. At length, however, a shot from the fort carried away his foretop-gallant-mast, another might do still further damage; and as it would have been extreme rashness to continue the pursuit further, he hauled his wind and made the best of his way out of the range of the guns of the forts, while the French frigate came to an anchor safe under their shelter near several line-of-battle ships and frigates.

No sooner had the sails been furled than Captain Tacon came aft, and begged at once to be taken to the admiral.

"I told you that I was coming to give important information," he said coolly. "I prefer giving it to the admiral, who has the power to reward me as I deserve."

The captain had nothing whatever to say against this, and accordingly conducted him on board the flag-ship. The old pirate then gave the information that the English had resolved to attempt the destruction of the French fleet by fire-ships; and, as a proof, exhibited the plan which he had abstracted from Lord Claymore's cabin.

"I will consider the information you have brought me, and judge of the probability of its correctness," answered the admiral. "You shall, according as it is found to be correct, receive your reward. Take him on board again, Captain Gerardin, and see that he does not escape. He will probably be equally ready to inform the British government, if he has the opportunity, of what we are about."

Tacon looked not over well pleased; he well knew that expostulation would be useless.

"The fates are against me, and I am truly an unfortunate and much-to-be-pitied man," he muttered, as he was led away.

Captain Gerardin took him back on board the frigate, and, to prevent the possibility of his escaping, put him into irons. "A hard necessity, friend Tacon," he remarked; "but necessity often compels us to perform unpleasant acts."

"Ah, yes, it is my unfortunate fate! I am truly much to be commiserated," answered the old pirate. "Now there is the marquis, up there, in your cabin. He is a much greater scoundrel than I am, and yet rank and wealth are his lot."

"Oh, we have a bonne-bouche prepared for him, which he may not relish much more than you do those manacles on your legs," remarked the captain, as he left the worthy Tacon to his solitary reflections.

The French admiral, meantime, paid much more attention to the information he had received than he was willing to acknowledge he should do. It corroborated what he had received from other quarters, and he instantly issued orders to prepare for the expected attack. Lord Gambier's squadron had for some time been cruising off the coast, and it was considered a wonder that Captain Gerardin's frigate had got safe into harbour.

Meantime the prisoners, for so they were, though treated more as friends and passengers, were detained on board. The preparations for the attack were concluded, and the French were convinced that it could not succeed. It was now the common subject of conversation; and Edda heard that Lord Claymore was about to take an active part in the operation, and, of course, supposing that Ronald Morton was still with him, she felt sure that he would likewise be engaged, and would be foremost wherever danger was to be encountered. Never had she passed a time of suspense so painful. It was shared, however, in a great degree, by her mother and by Donna Julia.

She was becoming much interested in the young Spanish girl, though she could not entirely make out her character. At all events she was warm-hearted and enthusiastic, but though gentle in her manners, she seemed more inclined to resent an injury than to forgive it. Still she was very different to her father, for whom Edda had conceived a great dislike. No one, indeed, liked him. Her father kept studiously aloof from his society, and even Father Mendez rarely or never spoke to him. Edda's chief annoyance arose from the attentions paid her by Alfonse Gerardin; they had become more frequent, and he was far more confident in his manner than he had ever before been. How to treat him under the present circumstances she could not tell. The cabin was no sanctuary to her. He entered it at all times with perfect freedom, and evidently with the captain's sanction.

One day, believing that he was on duty on deck, where the rest of the party were assembled, she remained in the cabin to read. She was seated on a sofa, and had succeeded in fixing her attention on the book, when the door opened, and on looking up she saw Lieutenant Gerardin approaching her. She let her eyes again drop on the page before her, but not a word could she read. He sat down by her side, and before she was aware of it had grasped her hand.

"Hear me, Edda!" he exclaimed with vehemence. "I can exist no longer in the state of uncertainty I have endured for so many years. From the first moment I saw you, I loved you. You know it. My love was sincere, faithful, disinterested. I am not a mere adventurer, as you may suppose. My birth is equal, if not superior, to yours. Rank and wealth will be mine. All I offer to lay at your feet. You doubt my words. The means of proving my claims have only lately, in the most wonderful way, been placed in the power of my guardian and protector, Pedro Alvarez, whom you know as Pierre Gerardin, the captain of the ship. Let me have the satisfaction of telling you, dear Edda, that I am your cousin, the long-lost son of Donna Hilda Escalante."

Edda looked incredulously in his face, and endeavoured to withdraw her hand; she suspected that he had by some means become acquainted with her family history, and having concocted a story, was practising on her simplicity.

"I tell you the solemn truth. Why do you doubt me," he exclaimed, almost fiercely. "You have surely often heard how a child was carried away by pirates from Lunnasting, and that no tidings had ever been gained of him. I was that child. The chief of the band, Tacon, is a prisoner on board this ship. For the sake of obtaining his liberty, he will be ready to acknowledge his part in the transaction. I was rescued from his power by my father's faithful lieutenant, and my constant friend and guardian, Pedro Alvarez. He had no means of getting to Shetland, nor could he return to Spain. After wandering about in many parts of the world, taking me with him, he repaired to France, then at war with England. He sent to Shetland, and from the answer he received, he believed that my mother was dead. He fancied that, even should he be able to get there, my claims would not be acknowledged, and he determined, therefore, till peace was restored, not to make the attempt. My father, as you may have heard, would have succeeded to the title of the Marquis de Medea and to a magnificent estate. On his death the inheritance became mine; but without proofs of my birth, Pedro Alvarez himself being unable to return to Spain, how could he hope to succeed in obtaining for me my rights? He had carefully abstained from telling me the secret of my birth, and I fully believed that I was his son. I have been brought up as a Frenchman, and as a Frenchman I have always felt and acted. To support the honour and glory of our great emperor has always been my ambition and aim; though he may meet with reverses, he must succeed in the end—I am sure of that as I am of my own existence. Spain, which has foolishly abandoned him, will again be brought under his power, and through his means I feel sure that I shall some day obtain my father's inheritance. You look incredulous, lady. Proud England, too, will be humbled, and France, and all who adhere to her, will be triumphant. Those glorious days, when France will rule the world, will soon arrive, sweet Edda; and I ask you to share with one who loves you with devotion and tenderness unsurpassed, the wealth and rank which will then be his."