CHAPTER V.

AFTER LONG YEARS.

Four years have elapsed since we last saw Derval, and since then the _Amethyst_ had been freighted to so many parts of the world, that he had seen a vast deal of it and won much skill and experience, but had never once been near his home.

Great were the changes which time and circumstances had effected there.

From the hour Greville Hampton began to speculate, it seemed as if everything he touched turned to gold. He had bought and sold, sold and bought, and speculated, till he was becoming one of the richest men in Devonshire or Cornwall, and all this growing good fortune he somehow insensibly connected with his second marriage, and poor Mary was as completely forgotten, apparently, as if she had never existed.

His success was great; it astonished himself and others too; and, after the fashion of the toadying world, he was greatly looked up by many who, at one period of his life, knew him not.

The last of the humble cob-cottages had disappeared, and with it the last of the aboriginal inhabitants of Finglecombe; the villa residences of Bayview Terrace were in great request, and a handsome sea-wall, called the Grand Promenade, occupied the shingly shore on which the ocean had freely rolled for ages.

Finglecombe was now inhabited by a circle of families who dined and tea-ed each other, and, moreover, closely criticised each other, for "pig-iron always looks down on tenpenny nails"; who attended church and, frequently uninvited, each others' marriages, baptisms, and funerals; and more than all, a great hotel was built, with a gin-palace as an adjunct, and the once secluded Combe began rapidly to approach the dignity of a cockney watering-place, in every way, however, a source of wealth to its lord and proprietor.

The thatched parsonage and the little church of the middle ages alone remained unchanged, though Mr. Asperges Laud was more silver-haired, and he had, under the influences of surrounding gentility, ventured to light two candles on his altar.

The wayside booth, dignified by the name of a railway station, that boasted of but one porter, who often travelled to and fro per train, and acted as deputy stoker, &c., had now been replaced by one of imposing aspect, with a spacious platform, a staff of officials, and an airy young damsel to superintend its buffet.

Mrs. Hampton's carriage was one of the features of the new settlement, but though to the poor of Finglecombe, or its vicinity rather, she was, as ever, no friend, her name appeared often in print as a patron of local charities.

Of all these wonderful changes the toiler of the sea knew little, if anything at all; his half-brother Rookleigh was now a pampered and very precocious boy of eleven, and already, under his mother's influence, he was beginning to be infected by an idea that if Derval--the fact of whose existence was referred to occasionally--ever did return, he could not but view him, elder though he was, as an interloper and intruder where he was not wanted, all the more as the family lawyers had begun to foster her pride by some confident surmises concerning ousting the Lord Oakhampton out of his title in her husband's favour.

The perils of the sea, the chances of climate, and many chances militated (thought Mrs. Hampton) against Derval ever returning again; and she comfortably, with a view to her pet's interests, made up her mind that too probably he never would return, and that all his father had made and was yet amassing, would eventually go to her own and only son Rookleigh.

Towards the end of the fourth year of her absence from home, the _Amethyst_ was running from Rio de Janeiro to Bermuda; and time had seen some changes in her. Many of the old hands had shipped on board other craft; but Captain Talbot still held his post, as did Joe Grummet and Mr. Gritline; but Harry Bowline had been promoted as second mate, and Derval, now past his eighteenth year, was third, _vice_ the ill-conditioned Mr. Paul Bitts, who had come to an untimely end, when Derval nearly lost his life in trying to save him.

While in the act of endeavouring to stimulate with his inevitable colt an apprentice boy, who was at work greasing the sheaves of the starboard catblock, Bitts fell overboard. The ship, which was going before an easy breeze, was promptly thrown in the wind, and, aware that Bitts was unable to swim, Derval, without a thought or consideration, threw off his jacket, and plunged in to save or assist him.

This occurred within a day's sail of Tristan d'Acunha. The height from which he leaped--the top-gallant forecastle, as the short upper deck forward is named--made him go very deep into the water, and when he came to the surface a cry of horror escaped him, for he could see only one of the man's hands above it, while all around was crimsoned with blood!

In a moment he knew that a shark had taken him, and every instant he expected the same fate. The breath seemed to leave his body at the terrible anticipation, and thus he sank more than once, nearly paralysed.

Promptly though the mainyard had been backed, the _Amethyst_ had forged some distance ahead, and Derval gave himself up for lost, though he heard the clamour on board each time he rose to the surface, and the rattle of the fall-tackles, with the splash, as a quarter-boat was being lowered and shoved off towards him.

As if to add to his horror he saw--or thought he saw--the black dorsal fin of the monster standing steadily above the water about twenty yards distant.

"God help me! God spare me!" escaped his lips, for death in an awful shape seemed terribly close indeed, and every action of his past life seemed to come in memory vividly before him, compressed into the narrow space of a minute or two.

Half senseless with actual fear, he was dragged into the boat, and he was barely on board the ship when no less than four sharks, all seeking for prey, were seen under the starboard counter, where they continued to follow her for some time after the yard-heads were filled, and she once more stood on her course.

The crew crowded round Derval, and Captain Talbot shook him warmly by the hand.

"You are a brave, good lad!" said he, "and had you saved the poor fellow, should have had such a medal as I now wear. I have twice saved human life at sea, but never in the face of peril such as this. Poor Paul Bitts! he was never a friend of yours, certainly; but he has come to a most awful end, with all his imperfections on his head."

After a little time the Captain decided that on getting a certificate he should be his successor.

For many a day and night after this did Derval shudder at the thought of what he had gone through, and recal the acute agony of his emotions in the water; but other events came to pass, and gradually the horror lessened in his memory.

Now past eighteen years of age, Derval's face was decidedly of a handsome cast, inherited, like his well-knit figure, from his father, and he had the soft, gentle, and earnest eyes of his mother--the tender Mary, whose grave was under the shadow of Finglecombe Church, but on which no loving hand laid a chaplet now. He was intelligent and experienced far beyond his years, and had, in the opinion of Joe Grummet, only one defect as a sailor--a fancy for sedulously cultivating on his upper lip something that Joe stigmatised as "fluff"; but it was certainly adding fast to the character of a very fine cast of features.

So it was as third mate, and as such keeping a bright look-out ahead, while assisting Mr. Girtline to conn, or direct the steerage, that, on a brilliant afternoon in autumn--though there is no autumn in those isles of eternal summer--Derval saw the Bermudas, to all appearance like a range of low sterile hills, at the base of which the ocean is dashed into a line of white foam, rise gradually on the lee-bow, while cheerily the afternoon watch were singing, as they got the "ground tackle" ready and bent to the anchors.

These isles are so numerous that there is said to be one for every day in the year--some writers say four hundred and more--and as the ship neared them the short greensward that covers them, their dark cedar-trees, and pretty, but low, white dwellings, rapidly became visible, together with the masts of several vessels of war, as the group serves as a summer station for some of our American squadron, and also as a rendezvous for the great steamers of the Royal Mail Steam Packet Company; but the whole of these isles, which are formed by the zoophyte, or coral worm, are so completely hemmed in by perilous rocks, that it is only with extreme caution that a vessel of even ten tons burden can enter the roads. The water, however, is so beautifully clear and pellucid that the pilots can make their way with considerable facility between the coral reefs.

There is but one channel for large vessels into the principal anchorage, and through that the _Amethyst_ was guided by a native pilot at flood-tide, for at low-water the whole of the rocks are nearly dry.

After the cargo was out, there was some delay about getting a freight for England, as the main dependence of the colony is upon the naval and military establishments that have been formed there, and on the shipyards and saltworks; and now there had been a falling off in onions and whale oil, which are among the chief exports of the "vexed Bermoothes."

To this delay was added another. The _Amethyst_ had sprung her maintopmast in a sudden gale of wind, one of those "Bermuda squalls" so dreaded by all navigators of those seas, and she had suffered other damages, which compelled the Captain to place her in the hands of the dockyard people; thus, as there was plenty of leave-going, Derval was frequently on shore, and on one of these occasions a rather curious adventure befel him.

Joe Grummet had prepared Derval for seeing much that was novel in these Summer Isles, as they were not inaptly named from Sir George Summers, who was driven there in a storm in 1609, and whose heart is buried in one of them; but Joe could not prevail upon him to accept the genuine old nautical idea that the land and the coral crust composing it is so thin as to be easily broken, even by a stroke of the foot. But so many wrecks took place among their shoals, that the Spaniards of old named them Devils Isles, and Joe knew by tradition the strange story regarding a mighty multitude of rats, that came, no one knew from where, and, multiplying exceedingly, swarmed over all the isles, and ate up the corn, the fruit, and all green things for a period of five years, after which came a cloud of ravens out of the sky and destroyed them in turn, since when no raven has been seen in the Bermudas.*

* This story is told in the _Atlas Geographus_, 1717, vol. v.

Derval saw whales trapped and harpooned among the coral reefs, while the very sharks contended with the natives for the blubber in the warm shoal water, and more than once he had climbed Tibbs Hill, the highest elevation there, only a hundred and eighty feet in altitude; and he had seen the gangs of natives toiling at the cisterns in which rain-water is preserved for the shipping, for there are few wells and no fresh-water streams, but the dew-point ranges very high indeed.

One day, in his rambles, Derval came upon a little spot of remarkable beauty near the sea-shore. Many caverns, the roofs of which sparkle with brilliant spars, and having fantastic stalactites formed of the dripping water--genuine coral caverns, beautiful as the transformation scene in a pantomime, with their reflected lights, colours, shadows and uncertainties--are to be found in many parts of these isles, having in them pools of cool water delicious to bathe in.

Through one of these from the sea-shore--one in which it is said the poet Waller wrote a portion of his poetical description of Bermuda, when in exile there he penned his insipid "Battle of the Summer Isles,"--Derval wandered to where its inner end opened on a beautiful little dell, an amphitheatre of coral cliffs and verdure, at the bottom of which lay a salt pool filled always by the sea at each flood tide, and therein he was certain that more than once he saw a stealthy shark gliding.

Bordering it were the palmetto palms, with luscious fruit like plums in colour, and those enormous leaves, each of which are of such amazing length that they are used to roof houses; the oak, the ash, bananas, orange, lemon, mahogany and caoutchouc trees all growing in luxuriance together, and the coffee plant flourishing wild under the lofty cedars.

Delighted with the beauty of the cool and shady place, Derval stretched himself at length upon the velvet sward, and proceeded to enjoy a cigar, while watching, high above his head, the struggles of a small bird which was caught in the web of a spider--one of those spiders there so remarkable for their size and a peculiar kind of beauty, and the webs of which are, in colour and substance, a veritable raw silk.

His attention was next attracted by the appearance of a lady and a young girl walking slowly on the summit of a coral rock, or cliff, that overhung the salt pool. The lady, who carried a large white sunshade, was proceeding leisurely, reading a book, while the girl went hither and thither gathering flowers.

"Take care, Clara darling," he heard the lady say; "keep back from the edge of the rocks."

"Do let me gather these flowers," was the entreating reply, "and I shall make you such a lovely bouquet."

"Stay, I insist upon it," said the lady.

"Oh, I shall be so very careful," replied the sweet little English voice, which sounded so pleasantly to the ears of the listener,--but a shriek closed the sentence.

When venturing to the verge to gather the coveted trifle, the girl had fallen over, and vanished from the eyes of her horrified companion--her governess, as she eventually proved to be--who fled, uttering wild and breathless cries for assistance, for she knew that the little one had fallen from a height of nearly a hundred feet.

At the same moment a half stifled cry escaped Derval, who, with the keenest alarm, saw that in her descent a stump of laurel projecting from the cliff had caught a portion of the girl's dress, a species of muslin scarf that went round her waist, and there she hung, blind with terror and silent in her agony, some fifty feet above the rocks that shelved steeply downward to the pool or salt-water tarn.

"Keep still, girl, keep still!" cried Derval, who saw that already her frail protection was beginning to rend, while he instantly commenced to climb towards her, and as only a British sailor can climb, finding footing and things to grasp where a landsman would have found none.

At last he reached her, but not without incredible difficulty and great peril, at the very instant when the delicate scarf had nearly parted, and she must have perished miserably on the rocks or in the water below. To make assurance doubly sure, he grasped one part of her dress with his teeth, another with his left hand, winding it at the same time round his arm, and holding her thus, while she clutched his neck, he began his descent to the base, breathless and silent; for to ascend, though the way was shorter, proved impossible, as the rock over which she had fallen was an impending one.

The base at last was reached, when Derval could scarcely respire, and was trembling in every fibre with exertion and anxiety; and intent on conveying his half-senseless charge to her friends without delay, as he knew that their grief would be intolerable, he deemed his quickest way would be through the cavern to the sea-shore; but he had not proceeded, far, when he found the flood tide was already coming in so fast, that to pass or repass was impossible, and he could but clamber up into a recess, and place her there on a dry shelf of the coral formation till the tide ebbed again; and in that strange shelter there was a reflected light from the rising water at both ends, that while it produced some very curious and picturesque effects of colour and shadow, enabled them to see distinctly around them.

"Thank you, thank you, sir,--oh so much, so very much!" sobbed the child (she did not seem to be yet in her teens), and after the terror and prolonged shock she had undergone, she wept bitterly and hysterically, with her beautiful little head on Derval's shoulder, while his arm yet encircled her; but his voice and manner were so kind, tender, and reassuring, that after a time she became soothed, and "disengaging" herself from him, as the novels have it, so shyly, so prettily, and like a little lady, said:

"Oh, what a fright my poor papa will be in, when Miss Sampler tells him of my fall! How will he ever be able to thank you, sir!"

"Thank Heaven, thank Heaven--not me--that you are safe," said Derval, earnestly. "Poor child! what a fate you have escaped!" he added with a shudder as he looked at the tender and delicate form, the soft violet eyes, the rich brown hair, and mignonne face, flushed with excitement, and thought of what might have been, had he not been there--had he been too late, or failed in his courageous attempt!

He gazed on her with all the interest the great service he had rendered, her great beauty, and her present helplessness all seemed to excite, and he said, half to himself:

"Had you fallen to the base, you had been instantly killed; if into the water, the sharks----" and shudderingly he thought of his recent episode near Tristan d'Acunha. "I shall ever bless heaven I was so near you, child!"

"I am not a child," said she with a pout on her rosy lip, as her colour came back; "I am twelve years old."

"And who was the lady with you--your mamma?"

"Oh no; my dear mamma is dead."

"Who, then?"

"My governess, Miss Sampler. Do you live near this?" she asked.

"I am a sailor, and live in my ship. She is now in the dockyard. And you--you must, of course, live near this?" he added, seeing that she was without a head-dress.

"Yes; in the large white house that has great cannons in front of it, and where a pretty flag is always flying till sunset, when boom! goes one of the cannon, and down it comes."

"It is a garrison, then?"

"Oh no; it is papa's house. Oh, how papa will thank you for saving his little girl--he loves me so much!" Her voice trembled and her soft eyes filled as she said this, and added prettily, "I am the only one he has now; all my sisters are buried beside mamma."

"Where?"

"In England, far, far away--in Devonshire."

"I know Devonshire well!" exclaimed Derval with growing interest.

"Do you?" she asked, while her earnest eyes dilated.

"May I ask your name?"

"Clara."

"A pretty name! Clara what?"

"Hampton. And yours?"

"Hampton too."

"How very, very odd!"

Derval laughed, as the little "situation" began to have "its charm," in one way, but not quite in another. In their hiding-place, the whole floor of which was now a stretch of deep and shining water, the sound of excited voices reached them, as from a distance, from time to time--the voices of those who, no doubt, were in search of the lost one, and with whom Derval could not communicate, for there--either brought in by the flood-tide from the sea, or by it out of the pool--he could see, at no great distance from the perch occupied by himself and his shrinking companion, the back or dorsal fin of a great shark above the surface of the smooth dead water, while the whole of its awful length was visible beneath it.

The monster swam slowly to and fro--Derval, sailor-like, never doubting but it heard their voices, and was only waiting if opportunity served, or the water rose, to make a mouthful of each of them; but he felt safe and secure, as they were above high-water mark, as he could see by the colour of the coral walls; and when, ultimately, the tide did begin to ebb, Jack Shark passed out with it, and eventually disappeared.

Before this came to pass, Derval and the rescued had conversed on many things; and he found that, young though she was, there was a sweet, womanly sympathy about her, that led him, unconsciously, to tell her much concerning himself and his affairs, and how and why he left pleasant Devonshire to become a sailor; how quickly he had risen to be third mate of a handsome ship, what a fine fellow Captain Talbot was, and so forth, and as the little lady listened to him, her soft eyes filled with interest and wonder.

At last the ebbing tide left the floor of the cavern, and the shingly beach without it, completely dry, when the red sinking sun was nearly level with the sea, all crimsoned now; and giving his hand to his pretty namesake, he led her forth, and she at once indicated a path that led from the shore to her home. Ascending this, and passing through a grove of Palmetto palms, they found themselves on the plateau of the rock from whence she had fallen, and the appearance of the place made her shrink to Derval's side, while his arm went kindly and instinctively round her. But they had not proceeded far when they came upon a group of excited searchers, perhaps the same whose voices Derval had heard, and among them were officers in undress, soldiers from the garrison, seamen from the ships, planters, clerks, and blacks, their white teeth and eyes gleaming, screaming, hallooing, and all bearing ladders, ropes, poles, drags, and even lanterns, for the darkness was close at hand now.

"Papa, Papa!" suddenly exclaimed the young lady, and snatching her hand from that of Derval, she sprang like an antelope into the open arms of a careworn and haggard, but tall and distinguished-looking man, who had a decided air of good birth and breeding his planter-like costume, of a broad straw hat and white linen coat and trousers, failed to mask; and in his close embrace she sobbed hysterically.

"Safe, Clara--safe, my child!" said he in a broken voice; and then there was a minute's pause, during which the haggard lines grief and alarm had suddenly drawn on his face began already to fade out. "Oh, my darling, my darling!--what miracle is this?"

"That gentleman saved me, Papa; saved me, saved me!" was the sobbing reply.

"But how is she harmless after such a fall?" asked her father shudderingly of those around him, and as if unable to believe the evidence of his own senses, while the crowd closed round.

Derval briefly and modestly related all that had occurred.

Then the father of the rescued girl wept as he pressed and retained Derval's hands in his; but failed to find language in which to thank him coherently. After a time he asked:

"Do you belong to a ship of war, sir?"

"No, sir."

"To what, then?" asked the other, glancing at the uniform.

"To the ship _Amethyst_, of London, carrying the flag of the Royal Naval Reserve," replied Derval, touching his cap, for somehow the bearing of him he addressed bore the impress of one in no small authority.

The latter drew a handsome ring from his finger, and presented it to Derval, saying:

"I beg that you will accept of this, and wear it in remembrance of one whose gratitude you have won for life."

The stone was a magnificent onyx, and Derval saw, with a start, how that it bore a shield with three choughs, and the motto _Clarior e Tenebris_. He bowed, and placed it on his finger, saying:

"May I ask whom I have the honour of addressing?"

"This," said an officer (an aide-de-camp apparently), who stood near, "is Lord Oakhampton, Governor of the Bermudas."

His remote kinsman and his father's enemy! Confusion, astonishment, and then something of gratification filled the heart of Derval by turns, and all together.

"I am deeply grateful to you, young gentleman, for the great service you have rendered to me; but may I, in turn, ask your name, that I may never forget it?"

"My name, like yours, my lord, is Hampton--Derval Hampton."

"Are you a Devonshire man?"

"Yes, my Lord; my father lives at Finglecombe."

Lord Oakhampton coloured, and a cloud came over his decidedly handsome face, as he was well aware who Greville Hampton was, and what his pretensions were; and now, with a little more of hauteur that hospitality in his manner, he said:

"Dine with me at Government House to-morrow; eight is the hour, and I shall be glad to see you then."

Derval muttered his thanks, and lifted his cap, but ere he retired Lord Oakhampton shook his hand, Clara gave him hers confidently and pleasantly, and the interview terminated, for the night had fallen and Derval had to make his way back to the ship.

The episode in all its details gave him much food for thought, as he proceeded slowly homeward. He knew not, till then, that Lord Oakhampton was in the Colonial Service at all; neither did he know that by extravagance the peer had found the salary of Governor of the "vexed Bermoothes," some thousands per annum, a comfortable addition to a shattered income, while his estates were at dry-nurse. Derval knew now, however, that he had done an act demanding a supreme amount of gratitude, from a proud and rather repellent man, who would, perhaps, rather have been indebted therefor to any other person in the world, than the son of Greville Hampton; while, on the other hand, Derval had been taught to view his lordship as his hereditary enemy, the usurper of his father's rights, though why, or how, Derval could not define; and that, more than all, in the days of his father's unexpected penury and obscurity at Finglecombe, he had sedulously withheld all countenance and assistance from him.

"By Jove!" thought he; "sharks, sea-lawyers, the sailor's natural foes, seem to be my friends! One gets me promotion, _vice_ poor Paul Bitts, and I have the honour of saving a peer's daughter from another--my little kinswoman, too. I wonder in what degree she is so--a charming little creature, too!"

His father seemed of late to have taken but little interest in his movements or his success; but perhaps this startling episode might kindle some emotion of revengeful triumph that great good had been rendered for evil done.

Derval duly presented himself at Government House next evening, and was received by Lord Oakhampton with considerable impressment, and by him was presented, as the rescuer of his child from a dreadful peril--all Hamilton now rang with the story, though none knew precisely who the hero was--to a select circle, composed of the heads of departments, civil and military, the Chief Justice, the two puisne judges, and so forth; and as Derval was a gentleman by birth, education, and breeding, all were agreeably impressed by his appearance, for added thereto, he had now that easy and perfectly self-possessed manner which is only to be acquired by intercourse with the world, by travel, and some experience of life; and there were many things combined, which made Derval Hampton, in expression and bearing, older than his years.

Modest and reserved by nature and habit, he was, for a time, rather abashed to find himself somewhat the lion of the evening, and was glad when a little change was made in the current of the conversation, by the appearance of Clara Hampton and her governess with the dessert; and wonderfully bright and brilliant the little lady looked, all trace of yesterday's alarm and shock having passed away; but, though she accorded him her pretty hand very frankly, and with a wonderful smile of pleasure and welcome, she was very shy with him now, as contrasted with the mutual confidences they had exchanged in the cavern, "while Jack Shark was swimming to and fro, keeping a species of blockade upon them," as Derval laughingly said.

After a time she drew close to his side, and with great, yet childlike gracefulness, presented him with a flower from her dress, saying:

"I made this bouquet for you. Papa says no one can make a button-hole--why he calls it so, I don't know--like me."

So Derval gallantly kissed the little bouquet, and placed it in the lapelle of his naval coat.

Ere he left, Lord Oakhampton, thawing considerably in his somewhat measured manner--a manner born, as Derval knew, of circumstances far remote from Bermuda--assured him, that if he could do aught for him in anyway, to command his services. Very pleasant all this, thought Derval, who supposed he had no true friends in the world save his shipmates on board the _Amethyst_; but remembering his father's feud and claims, he returned thanks very reservedly and took his departure.

For certain reasons, chiefly family considerations, and his own dislike of all fuss and speculation, Derval said nothing of his adventure, or his visit to Government House, on board the _Amethyst_, which lay at Ireland Island, the chief place there for shipping; thus, great was the astonishment of his "skipper," when an officer in undress military uniform arrived from Hamilton, the chief town of these isles, with an official letter addressed to "Captain Talbot, H.M. Royal Naval Reserve."

"For you, sir," said the aide-de-camp.

"From whom, sir?"

"His Excellency the Governor."

Captain Talbot was rather, as he afterwards told, "taken aback," but he said:

"Won't you have a glass of sherry and a biscuit, sir?"

"Thanks, very much--no," replied the other, and stepped on shore, while the surprise of Talbot increased very much when he read the letter twice over, and then starting up, ordered Joe Grummet to "pipe all hands," and bring them aft, "and run the ensign up to the gaff."

"Hats off, my lads," said the Captain, his face glowing with pleasure; "for this comes from the Queen's representative."

The letter, of which we only give an outline, proved to be from "His Excellency Lord Oakhampton, K.C.B., Governor of the Bermuda Islands, &c. &c.," warmly recommending Mr. Derval Hampton to his captain and owners for his gallant conduct, which was fully detailed therein; and congratulating Captain Talbot on having such an officer under him in the _Amethyst_.

Whereupon Joe Grummet took off his old battered tarpauline hat, from a head that was getting grey now, and led the van of three stentorian cheers for the third mate; and Derval heard them, as he had heard the letter, with cheeks flushing scarlet, like those of a school-girl, and a wildly beating heart.

And in honour of the whole event, which Hal Bowline duly engrossed on the ship's log, Joe Grummet's whistle was next heard, summoning all hands to "splice the main-brace," an invitation never unattended to by sailors, as they are ever ready for a glass of grog.

The ship was now getting ready for sea, the hatches were being battened down, the boats hoisted in, the studding-sail gear rove, the royal yards crossed, &c., and Derval was compelled to spend much of his time on board of the _Amethyst_; and now came the last day he could pass, perhaps, on shore.

Unconsciously he wandered to the little dell of the palmetto and other trees, the coral cliff and the salt pool, all of which impressed him so deeply as the scene of a startling adventure. A fragment of Clara's muslin dress yet fluttered from the laurel stump by which her fall had been arrested, either on the rocks below or into the pool, where sharks were as usual swimming whenever the flood tide floated them in; and as Derval surveyed the cliff up which he had clambered to her assistance, now, when he had not the impetus of excitement, he thought himself a very clever fellow, but doubted whether he could achieve the same feat again.

Something glittering at the foot of the cliff caught his eye. It was a locket of gold, the size of a florin, with the name _Clara_ in pearls on one side--an ornament doubtless lost by Miss Hampton on the day in question, and he speedily possessed himself of it. Opening it, he found that it was empty, but prepared at once to restore it, and do what the rules of society required, to leave with it a farewell card at Government House.

On going thither he was informed that Lord Oakhampton had gone to open the Assembly of Representatives (consisting of thirty-six in number, four of whom are elected by each parish), so he inquired if he could see Miss Clara Hampton.

The valets, who knew the service he had rendered her, ushered him at once into the drawing-room, where he found her, with all her rich brown hair loose for coolness, and fanning herself with a large circular fan, composed of the snow-white feathers of some rare tropical bird, and intently conning some task set her by Miss Sampler.

"I have come to bid adieu to your papa and yourself," said Derval.

"I am so sorry he is from home," she replied, as she gave him her hand, and with more self-possession than she might have had, if a few years older, invited him at once to be seated. The soft mignonne face seemed to Derval's eyes more beautiful than ever in its childlike purity, and her violet eyes with their long lashes were full of a bright and earnest expression.

After a little pause, he placed the locket in her hand.

"This, of course, is yours; I found it to-day at the place where--where--I first had the pleasure of meeting you," said he, seeing that she shivered and half closed her eyes.

"Oh, do not speak of that place!" she exclaimed, lifting up her hands; "I shall never, never forget you or it either."

"I am sorry that the memory of me should be combined with a thought of horror."

"Do not imagine I shall think of _you_ in that way," she said very earnestly; "and as for the locket--will you accept it--will you permit me to give it to you? Pray do. Papa will be so pleased!"

And springing to his side, the engaging creature, with rapid and deft little fingers, attached it to his watch-chain, exclaiming gleefully:

"Now, does it not look pretty?'

"Thanks, my dear Miss Clara," said Derval, looking almost tenderly into her bright upturned face; "but there is something that would make it look prettier and enhance its value to me."

"What?"

"A tiny lock of your hair, as a souvenir when I am far away from Bermuda."

"Oh--is that all!" she exclaimed, and with the scissors that lay near her she snipped off a tress and coiled it into the locket, laughing merrily the while. "You will come and see Papa again to-morrow, and let him thank you for me again," said she, interrupting Derval's thanks, and seeing that he had risen from his chair.

"For me there is no to-morrow, of leave at least--we must sail ere the tide ebbs, and make a good offing by sunset. And now," he added, yet lingeringly, "I must say good-bye."

"_Bon voyage_, Miss Sampler would say; but a pleasant voyage home to England I wish you with--with all my heart, Mr. Hampton," she said, as her smile died away, for recalling the episode which made them acquainted, the young girl's heart grew very full, and her beautiful eyes too.

"Will you give me one kiss ere I go?" said Derval, considering she was but a child he addressed.

"Oh yes!" was the frank response, as she innocently held up her mouth, and the memory of the kiss given by those sweet rosebud-like lips, haunted Derval pleasantly for many a month to come, when many a league of ocean lay between him and the Summer Isles.

Next day saw the _Amethyst_ in the pilot's hands, working out of the tortuous channel between the reefs, her yards being braced up sharp, and her tacks being carried far aft to port and starboard alternately. As she passed in view of Government House the ports were triced up and she fired nineteen rounds from her brass nine-pounders in honour of Lord Oakhampton, the flag on whose residence was dipped to her three times in farewell.

By that time she was clear of all the rocks; her yards were squared, and with a fair wind she bore away north-eastward into the evening sea, the watery highway to "Old England."

Some two months after this found Derval, after quitting the _Amethyst_ at the West India Dock--ever in his mind associated with the awful day of London fog in which he first saw it--hastening homeward on a few weeks' leave, and having with him, sailor-like, presents for all there: a tiger-skin from the Cape for his father's study; furs of the platypus, soft and grey, from Australia, to make muffs and cuffs for Mrs. Hampton, and a shawl for her too; a shark's skull for Mr. Asperges Laud; a model junk for little Rookleigh; several cosy things for old Patty Fripp; and, moreover, he had shells, horns, idols, queer ornaments, and all the curious _omnium gatherum_ which sailors usually pick up--the gathered spoil of years of wandering and affection.

He disliked to carry the locket where Clara's hands had hung it. A day might come--nay, surely would come--when he might have to discard the gift, lest treasuring a woman's locket, with her name upon it and her hair within it, might alarm some one dearer to him than life, and lead to serious complications, although he had not met her yet--or thought so; thus the locket was consigned to one of his secret repositories.

"Home--home!" he exclaimed to himself, and clapped his hands with glee as the swift express train went tearing on through North Devon, and the vale of Taunton, with its foliaged slopes, Coddon Hill and St. Peter's ancient spire, came in sight; on and on yet, and ere long he should be at Finglecombe!

Breathlessly he stood at the window of the carriage, in his eagerness hailing each successive familiar feature in the view. It was the close of a summer day, and his heart felt full as when he had knelt at his mother's knee to lisp the prayers she taught him. There seemed to be something in the white clouds flecking the blue sky; in the sweet fresh breath of the land breeze, laden with the perfume of the orchards, the green leaves, and the flowers; in the joyous song of the birds; in the pretty farms, in field after field as he saw them, like great green seas of grass, studded with golden buttercups and snow-white daisies; in the groups of children, in the herds of cattle going to the pools to drink; in the voice of the lark soaring aloft; in the familiar peal of the old church bell, like the voice of an early friend: that all spoke to his brimming heart of England and of home!

At last the train went clanking into the station, where porters and passengers were hurrying to and fro, and in their hot haste jostling each other. Could this be Finglecombe? Changes were being effected, and in progress, when he left; but he was by no means prepared for all he saw now. There was no one to receive him on the platform, about which he looked as one in a dream. He arrived, as he had departed, unseen by the eye of a kinsman; and now, for the first time, something of the old chill he had felt so often years ago, fell upon his heart.

A flaring placard, with views of Finglecombe, its terraces, villas, sea-wall, and various projected improvements then caught his eye. It was described as one of the most rising places on the western coast, in a beautiful district, commanding a view of the Bristol Channel; for yachtsmen and canoeists possessing an unrivalled field, and attractive walks and drives for the excursionist or pedestrian; a hotel, telegraph, and railway station, "advantages showing that, as a centre or head-quarters for the tourist, Finglecombe was unrivalled indeed; combining, as it did, cheapness of transit, and every means for amusement, with great natural beauty of situation."

Had his father found the lamp of Aladdin to produce all this? thought Derval, as memory went back to the solitary little cottage in the Combe, where a slice of brown bread, a pat of golden butter, and a foaming jug of beer, were once deemed a luxurious supper.

The Hampton family had a carriage now; but Derval, though expected, was left to make his way home, how he chose or how he could.

A porter put his portmanteaus on a truck, and, when desired to follow him to Mr. Hampton's house, received the order with profound respect. He was a stranger, and knew not Derval, whose own mother might not have recognised him now--tall, developed in every muscle, brown and manly in visage, with a dark, if slight, moustache; but amid the "improvements" at the Combe he became so bewildered, that he was fain to "drop astern" and let the porter pilot him.

The handsome entrance gates were reached, and through the sweeping approach, gravelled to perfection, and bordered by shrubbery and flower-beds in all their splendour, Derval proceeded till he found himself, as one in a dream, before the beautiful villa; and as a portion of that dream, too, he found himself face to face with his father, who grasped his hand, yet gazed upon him with an expression in which astonishment at the change in his appearance, too evidently exceeded the emotion of welcome; nor was it till Patty Fripp threw her arms round his neck, weeping over and kissing him, in an obstreperous fashion all her own, that the spell seemed broken, and that tears sprang to his own eyes, as the ready flood-gates of affection opened.

"His mother's darling! his mother's darling and mine!" she continued to exclaim. "Oh, Master Derval, Master Derval, how glad we are to have you safe home again!"

Derval felt a sense of mortification and disappointment. Of all the sudden and wonderful changes around him, he, the wandering sailor, had been kept in utter ignorance! Why was this? As a surprise for him, perhaps, hope suggested.

He found his father grayer, but less lined in visage than he could remember him, for prosperity had smoothed out many a line that Mary had seen growing, to her sorrow. Derval thought his manner nervous, and that he welcomed him, perhaps with affection, but certainly with outward constraint, especially when under the cold and observant eyes of Mrs. Hampton; and when the latter put her large, if white and shapely, hand into that of Derval, there flashed back upon his memory that which he had long forgotten--how viciously she flogged him in the stable with her riding-switch for poodling the cat.

She seemed quite unchanged since then, as young and handsome as ever, for no thought, care, or consideration would ever write a line on her smooth forehead and certainly brilliant face.

"This is your younger brother, Derval," said his father, as Rookleigh came to take his place at the late dinner table. He had his mother's expression of face; her light hazel eyes, only a little more green in tint and shifty in expression, with short white lashes. Derval went to him cordially, though he was no longer like the sleeping baby over whom he had wept on the morning he left home, but a big hulking boy of eleven years old.

Rook, as they named him, eyed his elder brother sullenly, distrustfully, and even malevolently, for already had his mother contrived to implant in his dawning mind, that this tall sailor was a species of natural enemy; but his face lighted up and his manner softened, when this enemy put a handful of silver in his hand, and produced the model junk, some packets of sweetmeats, a jack-knife, shells, and many knick-knacks, brought specially for him from far beyond the sea; and eventually Master Rook, who coveted everything that Derval had to give, contrived to "screw" loose change out of him on every available occasion.

Greville Hampton listened with a curiously mingled expression in his face--disdain of, and indignation at, Lord Oakhampton, when Derval related the episode at Bermuda; and then something of real gratification stole into his features on thinking that the peer's daughter should owe her life and existence to the skill and prowess of _his_ son! While, to anything in which Derval shone with credit, Mrs. Hampton listened coldly, with disdain nearly expressed in her light-coloured eyes, and had no word of womanly or well-bred approbation for the feat he had performed, and of which the only trophy he chose to show, was the signet ring of Lord Oakhampton, with the three choughs under a coronet, at which Greville gave an angry grimace, and sat slowly stroking a huge beard he had cultivated since Derval last saw him.

"And so you like Captain Talbot and your ship, my boy?" said he, when Mrs. Hampton and her peculiar care had betaken them to the drawing-room, and to change the subject of the astounding alterations at Finglecombe, on which Derval had naturally been expatiating.

"Like the Captain? He is a genuine brick!" said Derval; "and as for our ship, no better sails the sea!"

"Fill your glass, Derval--that Burgundy is better than any we used to have long ago."

"Thanks, Papa--'Governor,' I suppose I should call you in the parlance of the present day--even Rook, I perceive, has adopted it."

"Bad form, I deem it--very."

"Whatever I call you, you will ever be the same dear old man to me!" exclaimed Derval, as his eyes filled, and he wrung his father's hand. "But I should like you to see the _Amethyst_ under full sail before the wind, or even close hauled with her tacks aboard!" he added, with all a seaman's genuine enthusiasm in a really good craft. "She does indeed skim the waves, as if she were the work of magic. I have often watched her, as Scott describes the Mertouns watching Cleveland's vessel, as 'that rare masterpiece by which human genius aspires to surmount the waves and contend with the winds,' and you must know that we sailors think that a ship, like a woman, has a will of her own, yet knows what the helmsman wants of her; so right was he who said 'she walks the waters like a thing of life'--and this is precisely what the _Amethyst_ does. Buoyant as a duck, when before the wind, I have seen her yard-arms nearly touch the great rollers on each side alternately."

So multifarious were his father's engagements, and so much was he pre-occupied by his schemes, that Derval soon found his own society could be spared, and one of his first acts was to visit the quaint old parsonage of the Tudor times, and present to Mr. Asperges Laud the grim natural curiosity he had for him--the head of a shark caught by Joe Grummet off Tristan d'Acunha, and which he had scraped and polished till he had rendered it, as he thought, a very high work of art indeed.

To reach the parsonage, he had to pass his mother's grave, and as he approached the well-known spot, with his head uncovered, he experienced somewhat of a shock, it seemed so neglected and forgotten; when under the Southern Cross, and far beyond the equator, how often had his prayerful thoughts come here, and how did he find it now?

The tiny, but pretty monumental cross, erected by his father in the days of their limited means--then almost penury--had fallen down, and the little patch of grass under which she lay was choked with weeds!

Even Mr. Asperges Laud had failed in the work of clearing and weeding it again and again--often with his own hands. But Derval resolved that not another day should pass, ere this desecration should end.

The kind old curate received him warmly and affectionately, as if he had been his own father, and with tears in his eyes, held up his hand to bless him.

Incidentally, he told him of the growing wealth of Finglecombe, and of the great fortune his father was amassing. Derval, who had naturally inferred that such was the case, now heard it distinctly for the first time, though he had been kept in ignorance of it; and, as naturally, he again asked of himself, why was this the case?

He strove to crush down the unpleasant suspicions of--he knew not what--that would occur to him again and again, and sought to enjoy to the full the brief term of his leave of absence. He sought all his old haunts, but only to find changes; the shingly shore, which he had been wont to seek for hours, and whence he saw the old weedy hull floating silently in the bay, was now giving place to a sea-wall and marine parade; the Druidical stones that formed the Pixies Parlour had become road metal, and the new hotel occupied its site; the haunted mill with its moss-grown wheel had given place to a new villa of astounding design; and he found nothing unchanged but the Tiws-stone, or rock, named after the Saxon god (of the third day of the week), on the summit of a hill, where in the deep snows of winter, it is said, that on certain nights are traced the marks of a naked human foot, and of a cloven hoof, while the shrieks of the "whist hounds" are heard with the winding of unearthly horns, in the hollow below the hill.

So for a time, a very little time, he gave himself up to the full enjoyment of the sleepy country life, which was so unlike what he had been leading for fully four years past.

Yet in his father's house he felt singularly homeless; by the side of him whose blood he inherited and of the brother whose blood he partly shared, he felt as one without kindred, and ever and anon the thought occurred to him, "What brought me here? I had no pressing invitation certainly; let me get back to the _Amethyst_ again!"

Still stronger grew this desire, when one day he overheard his step-mother say:

"Greville dear, we must not have him with us long--with his sea manners and ways; his oaths, no doubt, will come in time, and the mode of treating the servant-maids too; for even they, and the ladies he may meet, are so different to all he is accustomed to."

"Who sent him to sea?" asked her husband curtly, for her remarks were alike unjust and untrue; but though they had a circle of rather fashionable friends now, Derval was conscious that none were invited to meet him; and thus coldness on the part of those who should have made him welcome, requests often refused, and lectures from Mrs. Hampton, in a tone unsuited to a lad past eighteen years, provoked a certain spirit of resistance in Derval. So far were slights carried, that one day during his father's absence young Rookleigh was placed at the head of the table. To see a boy of eleven years of age there, made Derval laugh; but, as Selden says, "you may see by a straw which way the wind is," and the preference was only a part and parcel of her whole system.

One morning, shortly before the time for his departure came, there occurred two events--or one, we should say, as each was but a part of the other--which gave Derval some food for reflection.

Among the letters for post on the hall-table, he saw one in Mrs. Hampton's handwriting, addressed to "Reeve Rudderhead, Esq., Mate, Ship _Amethyst_, West India Dock, London."

"Who the dickens is he?" thought Derval; "we have no such man, and it is improbable that there are two ships of the same name in the same dock."

He inquired of Mrs. Hampton who this Rudderhead was.

"He has succeeded Mr. Girtline in your ship."

"As first mate?"

"Yes."

"Who told you of this?"

"My aunt Rookleigh, by letter."

"And about what are you writing to him?" asked Derval, so abruptly or suspiciously, that she coloured with annoyance and said:

"That is _my_ business; besides, he is my cousin-german, and was an admirer of mine in my girlish days," she added, and left the room.

Soon after Derval was in the library, penning a letter to Hal Bowline, and while doing so, the appearance of his own name on the blotting-pad, several times, in Mrs. Hampton's handwriting, attracted his attention, and very naturally excited his curiosity. The blotting-paper was new, yellow tinted, and clean otherwise, and anxious to know in what way she was interested in his affairs, he deemed himself quite entitled to examine into the matter; and he could make out, by the address which was thereto, that the fragments he could decipher were part of his step-mother's letter to her nautical cousin, Mr. Reeve Rudderhead, and though unconnected, they ran thus:--

"_... so Derval, you see, is ... y, and for the old love you bore me ... good round sum, rid ... him in any way ... lad and evil ... see him no more, again ...._"

Derval read these strange fragments between him and the light again and again, till he fairly committed them to memory. He could not make out the mystery, or why she should be writing about him in any way. He quite failed to understand it, nor could he exactly speak of it; but he had good reason to remember it when several degrees of latitude lay between him and Finglecombe.

He felt that his visit there had been a mistake; that his father was all but alienated from him by a step-mother who wickedly hated him; that his step-brother was a greedy, sullen, and most unlikeable youth. Thus, more than ever, was his loving heart thrust back upon itself. Why was all this? What had he done beyond the crime of being the eldest son of his father, that his own flesh and blood should treat him thus?

He had but one unalloyed satisfaction during his visit. He received the Albert Medal for saving the life of Lord Oakhampton's daughter, and as he looked on it, his heart reverted again to the bright little maid in that isle of "Vexed Bermoothes," and he wished that the _Amethyst_ had been bound for that region again, instead of Van Dieman's Land, or Tasmania as we name it now.

So the hour of his departure came, and with heedlessness and mortification curiously mingling in his heart, he once more quitted his home, on the very day preceding one which Mrs. Hampton had fixed for a brilliant dinner-party, and when she knew that Derval must, without fail, be on board his ship.

London: Printed by W. H. Allen & Co., 13, Waterloo Place, S.W.