Part 22

"As we approached the city, he became very dull and uncommunicative, sitting absorbed in his own thoughts for hours; the fierce aspect that his countenance had for a long time worn was succeeded by a deep shade of sadness. I was young and inexperienced, and knew not how to speak, to divert his mind from the painful feelings that were preying upon him; thus we sat silent for hours, until we reached Musselburgh. 'Square!' he said, starting up, 'I shall soon have my doubts solved. For this some time an idea has haunted my mind, which renders me the most miserable of men. What if, in my madness (I can give it no milder term), I have wronged Eliza! She was all goodness and truth, and I ought to have weighed well before I reproached her. I have striven to think hardly of her, but my heart refuses. Eliza! Eliza! I have lost you for ever; true or false, I can never look on thy face again; but Wallace shall not triumph in my misery. I have preferred bringing you with me to any other person, because of your intimacy with Edinburgh. I do not wish it to be known that I am in town, until I have ascertained, through you, what has occurred since my last unfortunate visit to it.' I promised cheerfully to do my utmost to serve him in any duty he required, and, before the evening set in, we were safely lodged in the White Horse Tavern at the head of the Canongate. Our first step was to send for one of the cadies--a race of men now extinct; but they were, in their day and generation, a numerous fraternity in Edinburgh, and the source of communication, before the invention of the penny post. The affairs of the inhabitants of all ranks were in general well known to them. Their trustworthiness was admitted, and they were often employed in preference to domestic servants, in whose gossiping qualities they did not participate. I named Angus M'Dougal in preference to any other, as I had long known him. I brought him. When he entered, the captain sat with his back towards us, wrapped up in his travelling cloak, and avoiding the exposure of his face. After our first greeting, I proceeded to make the necessary inquiries, and found that Mr H---- was in town, and went very little abroad, on account of some distress in his house. The captain gave a start, a stifled groan escaped him, and, to relieve his suspense, I inquired of Angus if he knew the cause. 'Oh, the cause is no secret,' replied he; 'his ward, Elizabeth, is not expected to recover frae a dangerous illness. They say it is the effect o' grief, from a strange and hurried occurrence that happened several weeks ago. Miss Eliza had a sweetheart o' the name o' Mr Wallace, wha it was supposed was to hae married her; he was a constant visitor at her uncle's, but there was ane, they say, she liked better, a nephew o' Mr H----'s, wha was lang awa at sea. He appeared suddenly in the house when her guardian was frae hame, and as suddenly left it; nor has he been heard o' since. He was seen in the King's Park by several, as they think. It's no for me to speak evil o' ony gentleman; but they say that her other sweetheart murdered him, and concealed his body, for next forenoon, Mr H---- was sent for express, to come hame to Miss Elizabeth, wha had been out o' ae fit into anither ever since she had seen his nephew. Mr H---- sent everywhere to inquire for the unfortunate young man, but nae tidings could be had. Mr Wallace had left the town suddenly, but nane could tell whar he had gane. They say he was also seen, latish in the afternoon, entering the Duke's Walk to the east. Every part was searched, in vain, for the body, which has never been discovered; but, what has put it beyond a doubt, in the minds of many, that the youth was killed, was, that at a sma' distance within the wall near Mushet's Cairn, the grass was observed to be trodden down, and stained wi' blood. This, and the flight o' Wallace, who is said to hae gane owre to Holland to avoid the vengeance o' his uncle, are, at best, very suspicious circumstances. This Johnny Square, is a' that I ken o' the matter.'

"Dismissing the cadie as soon as possible, amply pleased with his reward, I hurried to the captain, who was weeping, like an infant, his face buried in his handkerchief. I saw that anything I could say, in the present situation, would be intrusion upon grief, too sacred for interference, and too recent to be soothed. After a few minutes, he turned to me--'Am I not the most guilty of men,' he said, 'and deservedly the most wretched? I have, by my hasty, jealous temper, killed my Eliza, and banished myself from her presence for ever, even should she recover. Oh! how could I, for a moment, harbour such a thought, to the injury of such an angel--far less give utterance to it! Fool, fool, that I have ever been!--it is fitting you die to atone for your jealous madness.' And he beat his forehead with his clenched fists. I became afraid that he intended to do some injury to his person; for there was a fierceness, mingled with agony of mind, in his looks, as he grasped, as if by some involuntary motion, the hilt of his sword, that alarmed me. I was on the point, different times, of rushing upon and disarming him; but, at length, this paroxysm was succeeded by one of subdued grief, and he became, to all appearance, as feeble as an infant. 'Oh, that I could, by any sacrifice,' he cried, in thrilling tones, 'obtain one glance of my injured Eliza, if it even were my last, to die at her feet, pleading for forgiveness!--her esteem, and with it her love, I know I have forfeited for ever! Rash, rash fool that I was!' Again he relapsed into silence, and, taking advantage of this new turn of thought, I suggested his writing to his uncle. 'Alas, Square,' he said, 'I cannot write; my mind is in a chaos of confusion--my brain is racked almost to madness.'

"'Then,' I answered, 'allow me to go, as if I had just arrived in town, and expected to have found you there, and to act as occasion requires. If I find I can, there shall be a messenger sent for you to come to your uncle's, or, at all events, I shall return in as short a time as possible, and give you an account of my success.'

"'Square, my friend,' he replied, grasping my hand, 'do with me as you please. My heart is broken--my mind is a tumult of agonising reflections of what I am, and what I might have been. I blush for the weakness you have witnessed in me; but what man in his folly ever threw from him such a treasure as I have lost, and lost for ever?'

"Anxious to alleviate the misery of my benefactor, with hasty steps I proceeded to the Covenant Close, to call upon Mr H----, who lived in the third flat in the Scale Stairs. Almost breathless from the speed I had used, I 'tirled at the pin.' The door was opened by a genteel man-servant in livery, of whom I inquired if Mr H---- was at home, and was answered in the affirmative. I was ushered into an elegant room, where, after waiting a few minutes, a benign but melancholy-looking old gentleman entered:--

"'Mr Square, I am informed,' said he, 'you wish to see me; may I inquire, is your business very pressing, as I am rather engaged at present?'

"'I humbly beg pardon,' said I; 'I am a stranger to you, and only came to town this afternoon. My acquaintance is with your nephew, Captain H----, of the Eliza: can you inform me when you expect him in town?'

"The old man sank into a chair, and remained silent, overcome by his feelings; at length, looking inquiringly into my face, 'Alas! sir,' cried he, 'I have now no nephew.'

"'Excuse me, sir,' I said, 'if I have wounded your feelings. I am astonished at what you tell me, for I saw him, in good health, not many days since, and expected him to have been here to-night.'

"Starting to his feet, he came to where I sat, and, placing his hand on my shoulder, looked anxiously in my face--'Young man,' he said, solemnly, 'have you seen Hugh H---- within these five weeks?'

"'Certainly,' I replied; 'I saw him in London within these ten days, in good health.'

"Clasping his hands, and raising his eyes to heaven--'Blessed be God!' he said, 'my nephew is alive, and my Eliza may yet be snatched from the grave!'

"We now entered into familiar conversation, in which I got from him a similar account to what the cadie had given us, with the addition only of the exertions Mr. H---- had made for the bringing of Wallace to punishment for the murder of his nephew. 'That man,' he concluded, 'has come to rejoice that he is in life; for so strong was the circumstantial evidence, that, had he been apprehended and brought to trial, there is not a jury who would not have given their verdict Guilty.'

"In return, I gave him a detailed account of all that I had witnessed, and the state of misery in which I had left him. Mr. H---- heard me with varied feelings as I proceeded, and said he had had no idea of the attachment between Hugh and Eliza, until this unfortunate affair disclosed it to him; and he feared it had proved fatal to his ward, who was in a very dangerous state--her life even despaired of; but he trusted his nephew's return would be more efficacious than all the prescriptions of her physicians; for hers was a sickness of the heart.

"With a thrill of pleasure at the success of my call, I bade him adieu, taking with me the assurance that he would break the joyful intelligence to Eliza, and either call at the White Horse Tavern himself, or send a note by his servant, to his 'poor Hughie, who was ever a passionate boy,' to come to him. When I returned, I found him pacing the room with hasty steps.

"'Square,' he cried, in a voice bordering on anger, 'is this what I expected from you? You have stayed an age away.'

"'I beg pardon, captain, but I have made no unnecessary delay. I bring you tidings of good hope. Your uncle is rejoiced you are safe, and in town; he will either call himself, or send a card for you to-morrow, as he shall judge safest for the sake of Eliza. Meanwhile, he is to break the unexpected news to her.'

"Joy and grief, hope and fear, now by turns took possession of his mind, until we retired to rest.

"Next forenoon we passed in a state of great anxiety. Captain H---- had spent a sleepless night, and still paced the room in violent emotion, or sank exhausted into his seat. I could not leave him, for the sake of humanity. At length, about two o'clock, Mr H---- came himself to visit his nephew. I cannot describe this meeting; it was painful to all parties. The old man had endeavoured to break the news of Hugh's safety to his ward without success; she was, he confessed, so much reduced, that he feared the agitation might prove fatal; for every allusion to him, since that melancholy occurrence, had produced a series of fainting fits; soon, however, he hoped, with safety, to be enabled to communicate the safety of her Hugh, whom, in her troubled slumbers, he had heard her name, while the large drops glistened on or glided from her long dark eyelashes.

"'O Hugh, Hugh, what have you done!' said the old man, unconsciously, as he wrung his hands--the tears falling over his venerable face.

"'Uncle, dear uncle, do not drive me to distraction,' cried the captain; 'I cannot endure the----'

"'Pardon me, my boy,' interrupted the uncle; 'I am a silly old bachelor; I know not what I say. Dear Hugh, I didn't mean to grieve you; but who can look on yon suffering innocent creature, and speak but as the feelings dictate?'

"The captain groaned aloud, and hid his face in his handkerchief.

"Several days were passed in a similar manner before we removed to the Covenant Close; but, alas! Captain H---- had arrived too late. The shock had untwisted the thread of life in the gentle Eliza, and it seemed only to hold together until his arrival. Joy, no doubt, once more visited that broken heart, when she smiled forgiveness upon her heart-stricken lover; but she survived only for three weeks after his arrival, and breathed her last sigh as he bent, almost bereft of reason, over her wasted form.

"During this period, I was quite unoccupied, and walked the streets of Edinburgh with a stately gait. How different were my feelings now from what they once had been on the same spot, in former days, when I had run or glided through them, timorous and abject! A child might have taken the wall of me then; now I had a splendid dress, and guineas in my pocket. I walked erect and resolute as a giant, and would give the wall to none; such is the effect of circumstances upon the mind. This, I believe, is the only time in my life I ever was so foolish. I feared to meet any one who could by any chance have recognised me. Yet in my pride I was still a solitary being, too bashful to make new acquaintances with those I thought my equals, and too proud to associate with those I had known before. Thus did I strut about like a solitary peacock in a farm-yard, with this difference, that I became, unlike the haughty bird, weary of my own consequence.

"After the funeral of Eliza, Mr H---- pleaded upon the captain to remain in Edinburgh; but he replied that he could not; all the scenes around only added to his melancholy, by recalling to his mind the lovely object he had lost for ever, and brought up the consciousness of the means--his own cruelty and jealous temper. In a few days we were once more on our way to London, where we arrived in safety, and found the Eliza moored at Rotherhithe. The captain resumed his active duties; and his grief was either more bearable, or, to blunt its edge, he entered more keenly into commerce. I was now appointed second mate. His wish was to obtain a distant freight, unmindful to what part of the world, so that the period of his absence from Britain might be the greatest. Not finding one so readily as he wished, he took a rich cargo on board upon his own account, fitted for the Indian market, and we left the Thames in November, 1751.

"For several years from this date, I was as happy as any human being could be, for we sailed the Indian Ocean from point to point, in all directions, encountering various turns of fortune, but still progressing towards wealth. I was myself rich, far beyond what I could ever have hoped to have been; and as for Captain H----, he had accumulated a fortune with which he was satisfied; his equanimity of mind was in some measure restored; he could talk at times of Eliza with a pleasing melancholy, and spoke of returning once more to Europe. As his vessel, the Eliza, was now old, and not safe for a home voyage, he resolved to sell her in the country, and return to Europe a passenger in the first commodious trader. This he actually did at Bombay, giving to each of his crew who had left England with him a handsome present, and the amount in cash of their passage-money home, that they might either return at his expense, or stay longer in the country, where there were great inducements, if they chose. Me, as my sincere friend, he strongly advised to remain for a few years longer, when I might return an independent man to Edinburgh.

"This was one of the golden opportunities every man has once in his power during his existence of bettering his circumstances for life. My evil destiny, or some other cause, made me reject it. I had, for several months back, as I had had several times before, a strong longing to visit Scotland once more. It is hardly possible for those who have never been for years absent from their native home, to imagine how overpowering this homesickness is, and how little will furnish to a languishing mind a plausible excuse for a return. I felt a conviction that I was not acting in the best manner for my own interest; yet I soothed down this feeling by the hope that I could return at any time, and pursue my fortune. To Captain H---- I stated my wish to return to Europe at all events, as I was weary of the Indian clime, and that, as I had left Edinburgh with him, I would, if he had no objections, return in the same vessel. He agreed; and thus we were again fated to go together.

"After remaining on shore inactive for some weeks, we embarked on board the Traussean, bound for Amsterdam. Would that I had been of the same turn of mind and resolution as Mr. Yates, our chief mate, who remained in the country, and soon sailed a vessel of his own! I saw him several years afterwards in London, living in wealth and independence, the produce of his toils in India. I gratified my wish at all hazards--he obeyed his better judgment; he had his reward--I had mine.

"From Bombay to the Cape of Good Hope we had a quick and pleasant run. We stopped at the Cape for three weeks, and took in refreshments and some passengers, amongst whom was an old, rich planter, on his return to Holland, taking with him a black boy, his slave, one of the merriest and most obliging creatures I ever saw. The little fellow soon became the favourite of every one on board. Pontoben was the joy of every one except his master, who was ever correcting or finding fault with him. In one of my sallies, I called the old planter Satan. He was worthy of the title, and it adhered to him like a burdockhead. A more forbidding figure I have never seen. Tall and bony, he had the appearance of a gigantic skeleton covered with shrivelled brown leather; his forehead, large and deeply-furrowed, rose over two shaggy eyebrows, that overshadowed eyes of light blue, keen and restless. There was a peculiar expression in his whole face that made even the most daring feel uneasy on beholding him; and, unless they were excited at the time by hatred towards him, few ever dared his eye. I myself felt that no inducement could ever make me look upon him as a kindred being; and, indeed, he rarely spoke to any of his countrymen. His harsh, sepulchral tones were seldom heard but in execrations of poor Pontoben, who would leave his master with the big drops of anguish, from punishment, rolling down his ebony face; and, in a few minutes after, be seen laughing and sporting with the seamen.

"On the evening of the seventh day after we had left Table Bay, the sun set like an immense globe of deep red fire, and the sky began to be overcast. The vessel was made all tight for the expected storm; and come, it did, soon after dark, with fearful force. All I had ever encountered could not be compared to its violence. The vessel pitched, groaned, and quivered, during the whole night, as if she would have gone to pieces; and, when day at length came, with no abatement of the storm, it only served to show us the extent of our danger. The sky was dark and lowering; heavy masses of clouds obscured the sun, and poured forth deluges of rain; the vessel laboured so much, and the wind was so strong, that no man on board could keep his feet, and the crew were lashed to different parts of the vessel, to prevent their being washed from the decks by the waves, which were every now and then making a complete breach over us. The captain and I shared the fatigues of the crew as we shared their danger. Another night of darkness and tempest, if possible more severe than the first, passed over our heads; still the vessel held good, and we hoped to weather the gale; when, just about an hour after daybreak, the wind chopped about nearly two points off the compass; the man at the helm, either through fatigue or mismanagement, allowed a tremendous sea to strike her too much forward, when she heeled so far over that a second wave laid her upon her beam ends. A cry of despair rose in one long, wailing sound, from every one on board; three of the crew were hurled into the mountainous ocean, and perished in a moment. The vessel had been making a considerable quantity of water, but not sufficient to cause alarm on that account; but now it was finding its way in by the companions from every wave that rolled over us. It is in moments such as these that the character of the seaman shines forth in all its lustre. For a few minutes, and no more, we were paralysed, and looked on in stupor, expecting to go down to the deep; still she floated--the larboard side only a few inches out of the water; the wind had perceptibly declined, still the sea ran as high as ever; and thus, for several hours, we clung to fastenings, in expectation of her going down every instant. We had it not in our power to do anything for our safety; it seemed as if her cargo had shifted in the hold, and the first heavy sea would finish all. I cannot say how long this lasted; the rage of the tempest at length died away, and it became possible for us to act. Her fore and mizzen masts were cut away, when she righted considerably; and then we commenced to throw what of her cargo we could get at overboard, altering the remainder until she righted. When hope once more dawned upon us, exhausted by hunger and fatigue, we stretched our weary limbs upon the deck, and sank to rest--the captain of the vessel taking the helm, and keeping watch with a few of his exhausted crew, who were soon relieved by short watches, until their strength was restored.

"Jurymasts were now erected, and we hoped to reach the coast of Portugal and refit; but our misfortunes had only commenced, for we found that our bread had been completely destroyed by the water we had made during the storm; and, besides, we were not provisioned for a very protracted voyage. It was at once agreed that both passengers and crew should go on short allowance; and, as our vessel was both leaky and sailed badly under her jurymasts, our prospects were now gloomy enough. Satan had never left his berth since the coming on of the storm; but lay and blasphemed, and beat poor Pontoben as usual, his temper having evidently become worse under his privations, though he had many preserves and luxuries of his own private property. The captain and myself kept up our spirits, in the expectation of falling in with some vessel bound for Europe, in which case we would leave the Traussean; but we were not so fortunate; for scarce were we refitted from the wrecks of the hurricane, when we were becalmed for three weeks. I shall not attempt to describe this our melancholy situation on the bosom of the ocean, that lay all around as still as death; its glassy brightness dazzling the eye under the intense rays of the sun, and our scanty supply of provisions rapidly wearing done. A lingering death from famine seemed inevitable; despair began to steal upon us; anxiety and fear were visible in the countenances of all. The pious became more fervent in their devotions, and the profane more choice in their expressions. All of us moved about the vessel like spectres, seldom exchanging words, every one seemingly absorbed in his own reflections. Vain was the attempt to call up a cheerful thought. If a laugh was heard, which some would attempt, it looked more like madness than mirth, and grated upon the ear like some unearthly sound; while tales of fearful import and sad forebodings alone could gain the attention of the listeners.