Part 8

With a light elastic step I bounded on. The night was beautifully clear, the stars shone in their effulgent glory, and the beautiful cross of the south was at its meridian height. I reached the building, but all was calm serenity. In the little chapel a single lamp burned by the side of the altar, while a dark substance screened its feeble rays. I entered the door, and beheld a negress sitting on the steps of the sanctuary, with her face concealed in her hands, which were resting on her knees. To the left of the altar lay several persons, covered over, apparently wrapt in slumber; while in front, upon a raised platform, spread over with white satin, was a dead body. The noise of my footsteps aroused the negress, who, upon seeing me, shrieked most piteously, and taking the lamp in her hand beckoned me to advance. An instinctive impulse urged me on. I sprang forward, and, as the pale gleam of light fell upon the corpse, beheld the perishing remains of the still lovely Mariqueta. Yes, there she lay, like a lily blighted by the tempest, or a flower seared by the lightning’s flash. The hand of the destroyer had indeed been speedy, for those whom I had deemed at rest were also in the cold sleep of death. Parents, kindred, all cut off, and there was none to deliver. Oh, the agony of that moment! Years have since passed away, but years cannot efface the recollection from my mind; and even now, a sick shuddering creeps upon my soul. Yes, there lay the beautiful Mariqueta--beautiful even in death. The negress removed the coverlet, and displayed a deep wound in her bosom, from which her pure spirit had escaped.

Frenzy took possession of my reason. I tore the cover from the bodies beside the altar, and the first countenance that met my view was the aged sire. Near him lay the other members of the family--all cold--all dead. Full of desperate resolve, I called my party, pointed to the bleeding bodies, and urged my comrades to avenge their fall. We searched the house, but all displayed marks of the bloody hand of the plunderer. The negress informed us that the guerillas had attacked the farm the day before, and committed acts of atrocious barbarity. The gentle Mariqueta had received her wound while shielding her father from the fiends; who, after murdering all they could find, had carried the attendant and the servants away as prisoners. She had escaped by secreting herself beneath the altar. “The Englishman had fought,” she said, “and some of the guerillas had fallen.” With this vague intelligence, after leaving a guard at the farm, we sallied forth, our guide undertaking to show us the haunts of the murderers.

The face of the heavens was still, calm, and clear; but, in my state of mind, the whirlwind and the tempest would have been more congenial to my agitated feelings. The stars still glittered in their brightness, but the deed of blood I had just witnessed, gave to my sight a red and gory haze that dimmed the sparkling lustre of the glistening orbs. The soft persuasions of humanity were deadened in my breast, and vengeance alone reigned with all its cruel terrors. Eagerly we pursued our course, and after one hour’s smart riding, our guide suddenly pulled up and informed us we were close to their retreat; but it would be necessary for one or two to go before with him and reconnoitre, while the others slowly advanced. Taking two men with me, and leading our horses, we approached a wild romantic spot, formed of stunted shrubbery and craggy rocks, beneath which the mouths of many caverns yawned in darkness--but all was solemn stillness. Entering one of these dismal dens, a deep groan arrested our steps. The guide shouted in the Spanish language, but no answer was returned. A gun was fired, but all remained tranquil; and it became evident that the guerillas had not been there, or else had withdrawn on our approach. Another groan decided me on searching the interior of the cave, and having procured a light, by flashing some powder on a flambeau, we advanced through several intricate windings to an inner apartment, when another sight of horror was presented. Stretched on his back upon the damp floor lay the Englishman, weltering in his blood; round his ankles and his wrists strong ropes were fastened, the other ends of which were secured to pegs driven firmly in the ground, so as to stretch his extended limbs to the extreme of torture. Nor was he the only one; two others appeared in similar situations, but their sufferings were over. We lost no time in releasing the Englishman from the rack, but his state of insensibility from loss of blood, left but small prospect of recovery. Time was rapidly hastening away, and our guide informed us that all pursuit was fruitless, as he had no doubt the guerillas had retreated to the mountains; we therefore retraced our steps to the farm, from whence I despatched a communication to the commander-in-chief. The same night a reply was brought, stating that the priests refused to officiate or attend at the removal of the bodies; I was therefore directed to inter them wherever I could find a place most suitable.

In the orchard attached to the farm was an avenue or grove of orange-trees, and at the extremity of the walk, a rural seat (where I had sat with the sweet girl) was formed beneath the spreading branches; and this was the spot I selected as the last resting place of murdered innocence. At the still midnight hour the bodies were laid in their narrow home; no chaunt of voices gave notice of their burial; but the ritual of our church was solemnly read over them. No pomp attended the funeral; but the honest tear of the veteran, as he consigned the last remnants of frail mortality to the dust, was a memorial far more precious. No monumental inscription marks the spot--the name of Mariqueta, engraven on the green bark of the orange-tree, formed the only memento.

The Englishman was removed to the city, where by excellent medical attendance he slowly recovered, and under the protection of the commander-in-chief, he returned to his native land. But he found his parents had long been consigned to the tomb; the friends of his youth were either dead or estranged, and after lingering a few months, tortured by remorse, he entered upon that “bourne from whence no travellers return.” In early life he had been nursed in the lap of luxury, and received a good education, but in an evil hour he had committed a felony to answer the demands of a gambling debt. He had been tried and sentenced to die, but through powerful intercession his punishment was commuted to transportation for life. The ship Jane Shore, in which he embarked, was seized upon by the convicts, and carried into the River Plate. From that hour no ray of pleasure beamed upon his mind, but all was cheerless melancholy, bordering upon hopeless despair. Oh! may “he who thinketh that he standeth, take heed lest he fall.”

FOOTNOTES

[6] Literally countryman, or peasant; but here designed to represent a guerilla.

THE BURNING SHIP.

“A dismal heat, foreboding death, Came stiflingly on by every breath; And many a shuddering mother clasp’d Her infant to her breast, and grasp’d In strong despair some kindred hand, Which shook her off.”

We were both born in the same village, and drew our nourishment from the same source in infancy. Yes, we have lain encircled in each other’s arms in the same cradle, and fond affection grew with our growth. But ah! how different were our conditions in life;--she the offspring of one who could boast of rank and wealth, whilst I was brought forth in comparative obscurity and poverty.

Agnes was the daughter of a baronet, to whom my father was head gardener; her mother resigned her existence in giving birth to her child, and the first tears of the infant were shed upon the cold inanimate bosom of that being to whom she was indebted for her life. My maternal parent having been confined about the same time, was selected as wet-nurse on account of her excellent health and gentleness of disposition, and the little Agnes was removed to our cottage, which was surrounded by a shrubbery tastefully laid out, and situated in the most delightful and romantic part of the grounds.

Sir Edward Melville was generous, and even condescending, to his inferiors, as long as they preserved an unqualified respect for his dignified rank; but if any one aimed at superior station, or failed in due reverence to himself, he became vindictive and revengeful. His principles were of so aristocratic a nature, that he considered it an ordination of divine authority for riches and titles to rule, and for humble obscurity to be content with tacit submission. Soon after the decease of his lady, he was appointed envoy to a foreign court, and a maiden aunt officiated as mistress at the castle during his absence; but the pride and malice of her heart rendered her hated and feared by all around her, and it was only at the cottage of her nurse in which Agnes always found an affectionate bosom as a depository for her griefs, and where the soothings of tenderness were ever ready to calm the perturbation of her mind.

It is impossible to define the feelings of childhood, for, as we grow more advanced in years, the softer sympathies become deadened by intercourse with the world and witnessing the scenes of misery which every where present themselves. Solomon hath said, “Childhood and youth are vanity;” yet what would I not give to possess the same innocence of heart, the same purity of thought which I enjoyed in my early years.

In our amusements, Agnes and myself were inseparable; and when removed from the haughty control of her aunt, we indulged in those little endearments which innocence inspires. Although my father’s condition in life was humble, he nevertheless possessed a cultivated taste, and was well acquainted with the works of the best writers of the day,--his leisure hours being occupied in reading (for through the kindness of the steward, he had free access to Sir Edward’s library and could obtain the loan of any book he wanted) and imparting instruction to myself. At the age of six, I could read tolerably well and understand what I read; but no book delighted me so much as the affecting tale of Paul and Virginia, which was my favourite volume, and often has the sweet Agnes mingled her tears with mine while perusing its pages.

Agnes had an elder brother, but he seldom associated with us, for his aunt had centred all her regards in him, and instilled into his mind every notion of high birth and exalted parentage. Yet he was not happy; for when he did deign to share our childhood’s sports, I can well remember the burst of passion which agitated him if I did not immediately comply with his wishes and submit to his caprice. But the last two years before Sir Edward’s return, he had been under the management of a tutor, whose kindness I shall never forget. This worthy and excellent man was also a constant visiter at the cottage whenever his duties would permit, and to his instructions am I indebted for whatever portion of knowledge I possess.

When I had attained my eighth year, intelligence arrived of Sir Edward’s return to England, and his intention of visiting the castle; yet much as I desired to see the father of Agnes, still I can remember a dejection came upon my spirits, young as I was, and I seemed to dread it as something which foreboded evil. At length he came, and received me with great kindness as the foster-brother of Agnes; but never shall I forget his terrible look, when with the playful familiarity of childhood, the dear girl put her little white arms round my neck. It was the first time I had ever witnessed such a display of rage, and it left an impression on my mind which time can never efface. I was removed from the castle, and nothing but the persuasions of a nobleman who accompanied him, would have prevented the dismissal of my father from his situation.

In a few days afterwards, the baronet with his sister and children went to the metropolis, and four years elapsed before we met again; but though nothing is sooner erased from the memory of a child than past events, yet the remembrance of the companion who shared our infantine amusements seldom quits us through life: and so I found it with Agnes. Since we had parted, I devoted myself assiduously to learning and had made great proficiency in writing and drawing, to the latter of which accomplishments I was particularly attached. Nor was I deficient in athletic exercises, for nothing gave me greater delight than skimming through the liquid element, climbing the lofty mountain, or breaking through the thick mazes of the forest. The scenery in Paul and Virginia raised a desire in my mind to imitate the former, and often have I ascended the highest tree, sitting for hours on its topmost branches and gazing towards the road where I had last seen the equipage of Sir Edward disappear.

We were now in our twelfth year; the baronet was gone abroad taking his son with him, and Agnes with her aunt, who had married a gouty old colonel, took up their abode at the castle. The colonel was an “Honourable,” but the very reverse of his lady or her brother; he was destitute of their pride, and I was frequently permitted to pass whole days at the castle in reading to and amusing him. In these pursuits Agnes was generally at my side when the absence of her aunt allowed it, and I number some of those hours as the happiest of my life. Her instructress was a mild and amiable woman, of Christian meekness and piety; she had drunk deep from the cup of sorrow, and there was a pensive melancholy imprinted on her countenance which powerfully interested the best feelings of the heart.

Thus passed two happy years, during which I felt my soul more strongly linked with every thing that concerned the gentle Agnes. I was as yet unacquainted with the cause of these feelings, and the first time that the truth opened to my heart was on my fifteenth birth-day. My father, whom I had occasionally assisted in his labours, gave a little féte in remembrance of it. It was the height of summer; the most respectable youths and lasses in the village were assembled to a dance in the park. The colonel was wheeled to the spot in his garden-chair, and her aunt being absent on a visit, Agnes graced the festival.

It was a happy and a lovely group beneath the wide-spreading branches of the trees, and when the dance commenced, Agnes became my partner. Oh, then I felt how precious she was to my happiness, as her light airy form was pressed in my arms! but when I contrasted the coarseness of my apparel with the delicate texture of her dress, a pang of deep humiliation stung me to the quick. At this moment, a young man in a travelling dress advanced towards us; it was Sir Edward’s son. His face was flushed with anger; he seized the arm of his sister with a wild impetuosity that caused her to cry out, and I immediately interfered; he raised his riding-whip and struck me--yes, struck me to the earth. I sprang upon my feet, but was instantly held fast and forced to the cottage, whilst Agnes was hurried away to the castle. Ah! then I felt what it was to love, and despair took possession of my mind; all other considerations seemed swallowed up, and I determined to fly from the place. Parents, kindred, all but Agnes were forgotten, and ere the dawn broke upon the cottage or the castle, I was far on my way from home.

In the early part of the morning I was accosted by a gentlemanly man, who offered me a seat in a post-chaise. This I gladly accepted, and found he was a naval officer about to join his ship at Plymouth, and he proposed my serving my country. The world was all before me, and to my romantic mind there was a magic in the expression, and before another day had elapsed I was entered on the books of the Amphion frigate as a volunteer. There was no time for reflection; I was wearied with my journey, sleep overpowered my faculties, and before the dawn arose the ship was out at sea. Never shall I forget my sensations when I first beheld the expanse of ocean, without a single speck to break its monotonous appearance. Blue waters all around and the clear heaven above, while the tall ship, reflecting her image on the waves, passed majestically through the briny element.

I was ignorant of etiquette, and without ceremony respectfully addressed my friend, the lieutenant; but he repulsed my familiarity with coldness, and directed a lad to take me to his cabin, where he immediately joined me. Here he explained the nature of the service, and the distance which it was deemed necessary to keep up between the officers and crew. He then made inquiry as to my clothes, and generously supplied me with some linen from his own stock. The ship’s tailor altered one of his jackets, and in a short time I was equipped as a sailor. But, ah, how many hours of bitter mortification and anguish did I undergo! I had every thing to learn, was often ill-used, and every day increased the distance from all I loved, without being able to inform them of my situation, as the frigate was bound to the East Indies. Remorse prayed upon my mind; I had not contemplated leaving England, much more leaving it without letting them know where I was; but now their affectionate hearts were wrung with my indiscretion. Agnes too!--but the remembrance of the sweet girl was ever accompanied by the recollection of the blow I had received from her brother, and I determined to persevere in the profession in which I had engaged.

The lieutenant was my sincere friend; he took every opportunity to promote my interests, and I endeavoured by all the means in my power to profit by his kindness and to testify my gratitude. At first, I was much persecuted by the seamen and the other boys; but when they found me desirous of learning and attentive to my duty, every one conspired to render me assistance, and I soon became a favourite with both officers and men. On one occasion, whilst the ship was lying nearly becalmed, one of the junior midshipmen, as he was playing about the rigging, fell overboard; I instantly dashed into the sea, and supported him from sinking till a boat was lowered down and took us up. This act, for which I claim no merit, brought me under the immediate notice of the captain, who witnessed it, and I was removed to the quarter deck to do duty as a midshipman. Every one expressed satisfaction at my promotion, and my new messmates vied with each other in manifesting their generous feelings.

After a passage of four months, we arrived at Madras, and I lost no time in acquainting my parents with my destination; but, unfortunately, the letter never reached their hands, as the ship which conveyed it was wrecked off the Cape of Good Hope, and every soul perished. Scarcely had we time to refit and victual, when orders were received to proceed to the China seas, as two French frigates had been seen cruising among the islands. Thither we hastened, and continued our search after them for six months, but without success, and at the expiration of that time we returned to Madras. It would be useless for me to enumerate the many places we visited during our stay in India, which occupied upwards of three years. Despatches were prepared for us, and we sailed for England.

Throughout the whole period of my absence, I had never heard from home; but still the fond remembrances of early enjoyments in that sweet spot clung to my soul, and Agnes in all her loveliness was ever present to my imagination, prompting me to many an honourable action and restraining me from every thing which could bring discredit on my affection; indeed I may truly say, that to her I was indebted for the respect and esteem I enjoyed from every one on board. Often did I rejoice in my heart at the prospect of once more embracing those who were so dear to me, and as often did the sickening sensations of distracting doubt agitate my breast.

One lovely evening, the sky was beautifully serene; the ocean like a clear mirror reflected the golden rays of the setting sun, and the light breeze just lulled the spreading sails to sleep, propelling the ship almost imperceptibly along at the rate of three knots[7] an hour. It was one of those evenings that baffle the painter’s art, and only the poet can portray; The first watch was drawing to a close; it had struck seven bells;[8] the seamen on the look-out had proclaimed “all’s well,” and every thing was again hushed to solemn stillness. I was standing on the gangway full of pensive musings, watching a bright star just kindling on the verge of the horizon. It beamed like a ray of hope, irradiating the gloom which hung heavy upon my heart; suddenly it expanded like the glowing meteor, and the ocean was illuminated with a red and gory tinge. I was struck with astonishment, but at the same moment an exclamation resounded fore-and-aft, “A ship on fire! a ship on fire!” and the horrid conviction was, alas! too evident. In a few minutes the flames were distinctly visible, and the ship was pronounced to be about five miles distant. Never before did I witness such alacrity among our crew, as in that hour of peril. The captain and every officer and man were on deck immediately; and as it was impossible for the frigate to approach in sufficient time to rescue the sufferers, before ten minutes had elapsed from the period of first noticing the fire, every boat was in motion towards the scene of danger.

It fell to my lot to command the captain’s gig, a swift-pulling boat with seven men, who bent to their oars with all the might of brave and generous spirits. As we drew near, the destructive element raged with increasing fury, and the shrieks of the wretched creatures came mingling with the crackling of the flames and the crash of falling masts. The frigate had fired guns and hoisted lights to show them succour was at hand, and the boats’ crews occasionally cheered to announce that they were approaching to their rescue. The shouts were returned from the burning ship, but so wild, so fearful, that they sounded like the yell of expiring agony that still clung to hope and life. I would have dashed instantly alongside, but the old coxswain respectfully warned me of the danger of such a measure.