Chapter 19

The breakers were soon visible to all the crew, being not more than a quarter of a mile distant on the lee bow, when Captain Dundas remarked, "Our only chance is to put away a point before the wind, or we are sure to go broadside into the surf and perish at once."

A heavy sea now struck the vessel, swept the deck fore and aft, and carried overboard five of the crew, who instantly sank to rise no more.

The captain seeing a mighty billow approaching, and viewing nothing but death before them, exclaimed, "Lord have mercy upon us," and at that moment the vessel rose upon a mountain wave to a tremendous height, from whose summit she descended with the velocity of lightning, as if she were going to bury herself in the remorseless deep. By this rapid movement she was precipitated beyond the reach of the breakers, which now rolled behind her stern, and burst in impotence, as if incensed at the loss of their destined prey. "We are safe!" exclaimed Captain Dundas; "jump, men, from the yards, and make sail." This they did with tumultuous joy, which Mr Gordon checked, and said to them, "Whilst you are working silently, thank God for your miraculous preservation." The sea upon which the vessel rose was the means of her preservation and that of her crew. Probably there was not, if the sea had been calm, a depth of two feet water on the Carr Rock, for it was that dangerous reef she had passed; but the mighty wave carried her safe over at a moment when every hope but that of immortality was gone from the minds of the ship's company.[I]

The tempest having somewhat abated, and the wind veered round to a more favourable quarter, the vessel rode more smoothly, and the hour of eight being arrived, all hands were enabled to sit up and take coffee for breakfast.

For about three hours the ship had been working up the Firth, and had come off Anstruther, into which port she entered shortly afterwards, in order to undergo a survey, and get all necessary repairs completed in hull and rigging; and as the vessel had been seen from the _Windmill Tower_ and the _Brae_ all the morning to be in great distress, the eastern pier (for the west pier had not then been built) was crowded with spectators to witness her arrival.

Amongst others who had gone down the pier was Captain John Cunningham, the provost or chief magistrate of the burgh, who, being a sea captain himself, deeply sympathised both as a sailor and a man with the officers and crew of the _Arethusa_, on seeing them in such a miserable plight, and proffered to afford them all the aid and assistance in his power. He got into conversation with Mr Gordon, and found him so intelligent and gentlemanly in his manners, that he invited him to his house (which stood in the Shore Street, and on the east side of the Pend Wynd, and was that which formerly belonged to the late Mr Willis, collector of customs, and is presently possessed by Mrs Rodger, Mr Imrie, and others), until the vessel was repaired and made ready for sea. Mr Gordon thanked him for his kindness, and cordially accepted his hospitable invitation.

Anstruther is a small country town, pleasantly situated on the banks of the Forth. It is a favourable specimen of a good old Scottish town. There is an old town-hall, and an old burgh school, (lately rebuilt,) an old jail, and an old bridge, besides an old church, now completely renewed and repaired, and forming, with the steeple, a handsome edifice, situated on the ridge or high ground above the town. The manse, a fine old building, placed on the summit of the same ridge near the church, was built by James Melville, minister of the place in the reign of James VI. It afterwards became the property of the Anstruther family, who, it is supposed, presented it to the town, or exchanged it for a house in the _Pend Wynd_, now belonging to Mr John Darsie, which was occupied for some time as the manse. At the time of which we write, there was a fine old baronial mansion, called "Anstruther Place," which stood near the present junction of the Crail and St Andrews roads. It belonged to the above-mentioned ancient family, the Anstruthers of Anstruther, whose progenitor was a Norman warrior that came to Britain with William the Conqueror. It was a mansion as large as Balcaskie, surmounted by a tower, and surrounded by fine old ancestral trees. A magnificent hall graced its interior, large enough to contain a company of volunteers, or local militiamen at drill, within its four corners. In addition to these old buildings, which gave a peculiar character to the place, there were a good many handsome new houses in the town of Anstruther, for it was far from being in a state of decay. Many wealthy and intelligent families chose it for their residence. It was the seat of a custom-house and excise-office. There was a branch of the Paisley Bank established in the town, under the management of a Mr Henry Russell, of the customs, and the bank office was kept in that shop now belonging to Mr James Reddie, ironmonger.[J] There was also a Greenland Whale Fishing Company connected with the town, of which a Bailie Johnston was manager. The company's place of business was situated in the East Green, and is now the property of Mr Robert Todd, and it is still known to old people by the name of the Greenland Close. There is, or was lately, an old stone placed over the door at the southern entrance into the yard, indicating the nature of the manufacture formerly carried on therein.[K] And before the Reform Bill was passed, Anstruther-Easter joined with the other four burghs of the district in sending a member to Parliament. Many thriving and respectable trades-people, whose forefathers had resided there for generations, and who looked upon the old buildings of their native town with something of the same sort of feeling as the landowner surveys the oaks which encircle his paternal hall, regarded it with pride and veneration. Perhaps no town of its size in Scotland could be named where so much good feeling prevailed among all classes. An eminent physician, who came to settle in the place, expressed his astonishment at the amount of private charity distributed. If a poor man met with any accident, every kind assistance was given him by his wealthier neighbours. If a small tradesman suffered a loss, or a carter his horse, or a widow's cow died, a subscription was set on foot, and the accident often turned out a gain, rather than a loss.

The old Castle of Dreel, another ancient seat of the Anstruther family, stood on the east side of the Dreel Burn, at its entrance into the sea. Several curious traditions are in circulation respecting this old baronial residence and its proprietors. The castle has entirely disappeared, and its site is now partly occupied by fish-curing premises, and partly by a large antiquated tenement called Wightman's house. Some eminent men have been born in Anstruther, among whom may be mentioned Drs Chalmers and Tennant, and Professor Goodsir.

Such is a brief description of Anstruther at the time of which we write. It is unnecessary to give a particular account of it at the present day, because its trade and commerce, its fishing, farming, and shipping interests--its new buildings and projected undertakings--its Sunday schools and provident societies, and savings' banks and subscription libraries, are familiar to the most of my readers.

Captain Cunningham, the chief magistrate of Anstruther, was a wealthy and respectable shipowner, and his family consisted of a son about twenty, and a daughter about seventeen years of age, besides some younger children. Mr Gordon, their guest, then in his twenty-fifth year, was a light-hearted and rising young officer. He was, at first, a little impatient of the delay occasioned by the repairs of the vessel, the superintendence of which fell to be his duty; but circumstances soon occurred which checked this impatience, and more than reconciled him to his present quarters.

As Christina Cunningham is destined to occupy no unimportant position in this narrative, some description of her will therefore be necessary.

Let us endeavour to draw her portrait.

She was not only beautiful, but full of life and animation, her smiling face being the true index of a cheerful, happy disposition. Gentle, amiable, affectionate, good-natured, she was beloved by all who knew her; although, from a maidenly modesty and a natural reserve, she was really known by few. With the figure of a sylph, and the face of a Hebe, she had luxuriant hair of the darkest possible chestnut, wreathed generally in thick cable plaits round her beautifully-shaped head, which, owing to the fashion of that day, as well as of the present, of wearing the bonnets on the shoulders, enabled her well-formed head to be seen to the greatest advantage. In the delicate outline of her faultless features, there was a harmony that made of her whole face a concerted loveliness of form, colour, and expression, that was irresistible. Hackneyed as the simile is, her skin was literally like snow, upon which blush rose-leaves seemed to have fallen. Her long-cut oriental-looking eyes, were "deeply, darkly, beautifully blue," while their heavy, snowy lids were fringed with long black silken lashes, that seemed to be continually trying to salute her cheeks, for which no one could possibly blame them. Her nose was, to say the least, irreproachable. Then came the rich red pouting under, and the short chisselled upper lip; the beautiful pearly arched teeth within them; the little round velvety chin, and the perfectly oval peach-like cheeks. In short, so pretty a creature was seldom to be seen.

But Miss Cunningham was something _more_ than beautiful, she was amiable, and gentle, and affectionate; and besides, she was a Christian in the full and true sense of the word; and, young as she was, she had learned to look upon herself as a sinner, however innocent and pure she might appear in the eyes of men. While enjoying the blessings of health, peace, and competence, that providence had poured upon her, she looked upon them all as undeserved mercies, marks and tokens of her heavenly Father's love--a love manifested in man's redemption, in a way surpassing all understanding. Where on earth can there be found a more lovely character than that in which are blended true religion and natural amiability, rectitude of conduct, and tenderness of disposition?

Residing under the same roof with Miss Cunningham, who can wonder that, before many weeks had elapsed, Mr Gordon was as devoted to Captain Cunningham's daughter as any young and ardent lover could be. Miss Cunningham was not conscious of any deeper feeling than that of affectionate friendship, nor was it till some time after that her heart told her, that Charles Gordon occupied a place in her affections, which could be held by one, and by one only.

Several weeks had passed away, the repairs of the _Arethusa_ had been nearly completed, and the time was fast approaching when Charles Gordon would be obliged to depart from Anstruther. It happened, however, that a day or two previously to his leaving, a party of pleasure was planned for visiting Kellie Law, near Carnbee, and Macduff's Cave, near Earlsferry. The party consisted of Mr John Cunningham, junior, and his sister, and Mr Gordon and Miss Anderson, the daughter of an opulent merchant in the town. A vehicle having been hired for the occasion, a drive of about an hour brought the excursionists to Kellie Law. Having put up the horse and equipage at Gillingshill, and partaken of the hospitality of the occupants, they ascended this beautiful conical eminence, which is 800 feet above the level of the sea, and about four miles distant from it, and rises from the ridge running eastward from Largo Law. From the summit of Kellie Law, on which there is a large cairn of stones, one of the most magnificent views in Scotland is obtained. Immediately below, to the south, is a rich and beautiful stretch of country, all enclosed and highly cultivated; an extensive range of sea-coast, studded with numerous little towns and villages; the ample bosom of the Firth of Forth, enlivened with shipping and fishing-boats; and in the extreme distance, the coast of the Lothians, from St Abb's Head to Edinburgh. Near the south base of this hill stands Kellie Castle, a fine baronial seat of the Earls of Kellie, surrounded by old trees, and containing some princely apartments. Sir Thomas Erskine of Gogar was one of those who rescued James VI. from the attempt of the Earl of Gowrie to assassinate him at Perth in 1600, and killed the earl's brother with his own hand. He was created Viscount Fenton in 1606, and Earl of Kellie in 1619. The earldom merged into that of Marr on the death of Methven, tenth Earl of Kellie, who was great-grand-uncle to Sir Thomas Erskine of Cambo, the present baronet. It is said these earldoms may, and probably will, be again disjoined, and the titles and honours of Marr and Kellie inherited by two distinct noblemen.

After enjoying the splendid prospect from Kellie Law, the party set off for Elie, on their way to view the caves in Kincraig Hill. The drive between Gillingshill and Elie is delightful. The turnpike road passes in some places through a long line of tall trees, arching high overhead, and showing, at the termination, picturesque vistas. It skirts Kilconquhar Loch, and affords not very distant views of Charlton and Balcarres, Colinsburgh and Cairnie House; and passing through Kilconquhar, the beautiful church of the parish and manse (which do credit to the heritors) are close by. The noble mansions of Elie and Kilconquhar, in the immediate neighbourhood, are also seen, surrounded with fine old trees, and standing in a rich and fertile district.

On arriving at Elie, the party gave the horse and vehicle in charge of the hostler, and set out on foot for Kincraig. Immediately from the beach, at the south-west end of the parish, Kincraig Hill rises to the height of about two hundred feet above the level of the sea. Its southern front presents a nearly perpendicular rugged wall of trap rock, of the most picturesque appearance, and in these rocks are several caves, called Macduff's Cave, the Hall Cave, and the Devil's Cave. There is a tradition that Macduff, the Maormar or Earl of Fife, in his flight from the vengeance of Macbeth, was concealed in the cave which still bears his name, and was afterwards ferried across the Firth to Dunbar by the fishermen of the place, from which circumstance it was called "Earlsferry;" and, besides being constituted a royal burgh by Malcolm III, about 1057, it obtained the privilege, that the persons of all, in flight, who should cross the Firth from thence, should be for a time inviolable--no boat being allowed to leave the shore in pursuit, till those who were pursued were half-seas over.

The party now resolved that they should partake of luncheon on the greensward, to fortify themselves for their proposed expedition among the cliffs. While the viands were being produced, Mr Gordon set forth of himself in quest of a very rare plant, which he was informed grew in this locality.

On observing a group of persons gazing anxiously upwards at the overhanging cliffs, he joined them, inquiring on what their attention was so earnestly fixed. The persons addressed spoke not, but pointed to a spot about half-way up the face of the rock. Mr Gordon looked in the direction indicated, when, to his horror, he beheld a boy, apparently of about fifteen years of age, climbing along a stony ledge, which was so narrow as to be hardly visible from the spot where the group of terrified beholders was stationed. Scarcely had there been time for Mr Gordon to fix his eye on the human form that had reached so perilous a position, when a portion of the ledge of rock on which the unhappy boy was standing gave way--a loud scream rent the air, echoing through the cliffs--and in another instant all that remained of him was a lifeless, mangled corpse. The poor fellow's story is soon told. He was an idiot, and having wandered from his mother's side, had reached the fatal spot, no one knew how, and thus met a fearful death.

His poor mother witnessed the dreadful catastrophe, and agonizing was her grief as she followed the body of her child, which was borne on the shoulders of the awe-struck villagers to her home. Mr Gordon also followed the body to the house, and, feeling that at such a time any attempt at comforting the childless widow would be of no avail, he merely placed a sum of money in the hands of a respectable-looking person, a bystander, for her use, and slowly and sick at heart he was in the act of returning to his friends, when he met Christina Cunningham, who was in search of him, for the purpose of bringing him back to luncheon. She saw that he was deadly pale, and hurriedly asked if he felt ill. He told her all that had happened.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "if it had been _you_!"

"Well, Miss Cunningham," he replied, carelessly, "and if it had, few would have missed me. I should probably have had fewer mourners than that poor idiot boy."

"Oh, how can you say so?" she returned, and bending down her head, became visibly agitated. And yet poor Christina knew not, even now, that she loved Charles Gordon: she understood not the true cause of the beatings of her disturbed heart. He looked at her. As he looked, a momentary smile passed over his features, which was soon exchanged for an expression of deep sorrow, as he thought of the lonely widow, bending over the lifeless form of her lost son. The sad story was related to the rest of the party, and all cheerfulness for the time was at an end.

This was destined to be an eventful day. Another calamity--and one that, although it was not attended with fatal results, affected Charles more than that which had occurred--was yet to take place. We have said that there were some remarkable caves at this place, which had long been objects of interest to the traveller and excursionist. One there is in particular, called the Devil's Cave, which penetrates far into the heart of the rock, on the face of which lies its entrance. From the steepness of the path which leads into this cavern, it is rarely visited by tourists. The party, however, with perhaps more curiosity than prudence, determined to explore and visit this cave. A female guide was procured, and a candle supplied to each person. All being ready, in single file they entered the mouth of the cavern, carefully groping their way, not without difficulty. Miss Anderson soon lost courage, and turned back, stating that she and Mr Cunningham would return to the inn at Elie, and prepare tea; the other two resolved to proceed along with the guide. The aperture through which they had to pass became at length so low, and so narrow, that a consultation was held, and it was agreed that it would be prudent to return. Charles now led the way as they retraced their steps. He had not proceeded far when he heard a heavy fall, and turning quickly round, beheld, to his horror, Christina stretched upon the humid soil of the cavern; her eyes were closed, and her candle had fallen from her hand. Whether bad air had struck her down or not, he could not tell. For an instant he believed her to be dead, but, bending over her, he perceived that she breathed. What was now to be done? Only one plan lay before him which he could adopt. Giving his candle to the guide, and directing her to keep in front of him, holding the light so as he could see, he raised Miss Cunningham in his arms, and with all the strength he was master of, bore her along in the direction of the entrance. The roof of the cave was so low, that it was impossible to maintain an upright position, and his strength so entirely failed him that he was obliged to stop and take a rest before he could proceed with his precious burden. On reaching the mouth or entrance of the now detested cave, signs of returning consciousness began to appear in the poor sufferer. On breathing the fresh air of heaven, she opened her eyes for a moment, then closed them again, drawing several long and apparently painful respirations. Charles placed her on a grassy bank, and seating himself beside her, supported her by placing his arm round her waist. The guide was despatched for water. By and by, Christina, looking round, said with her own sweet smile, "I am better now." Charles pressed the form of her whom he already loved so well, to himself, and then assisting her to rise, with slow and measured steps they returned to Elie.

"You are very tired, I fear, and I am the cause," said Christina, as she leaned on Charles's arm, turning her face to his.

For a moment their eyes met, those of Christina fell, while a shade of colour tinged her still pallid face. She had met a look in Charles's face that she had never seen there before. She again relapsed into silence.

Charles, in reply to her remark, uttered something that was inaudible; the name of "Christina," however, was substituted for that of "Miss Cunningham."

Any endeavour to conceal what had occurred would have been useless. The pale face of the sufferer plainly told that she had been ill, and general was the consternation of all on hearing what had happened. Charles resigned her to the care of Miss Anderson and the hostess, and, passing to the little parlour of the village inn, flung himself on the sofa in a state of complete exhaustion.

Long he remained buried in thought. At length his good nature and compassion prompted him to visit once more the poor, childless widow, while preparations were being made for their return to Anstruther. She was alone with the body of her idiot son. Carefully had she cleansed away the blood and dust from his face, which now appeared to exhibit more intelligence in death than it had done in life.

As Charles entered, the poor Irish widow exclaimed,--"May the blessing of the Great God, who is above us this day, be about ye, and wid ye for ever and ever, my jewel young gentleman!" She held in her hand the money that he had left for her, and added, "Sure isn't there enough here for the poor lone widow, to buy her darlint son a dacent coffin for to lay him in the could earth, in the land of the stranger, before she goes far, far away, to a land beyant the rowling say (referring to America). You've given me money when I wanted it sore, an' the blessin' of the lone widow woman will be wid you wherever ye go; but none can give me back my boy! Oh, Patrick, jewel! why did ye die? Och, my poor boy! my poor boy! my poor boy!"

The tears came into Charles's eyes as he listened to this pathetic lamentation, but longer he could not remain. He succeeded, however, in learning that she had resolved to accede to a proposal of her sister's, to join her in America, which his gift had provided her with the means of accomplishing.

The drive to Anstruther was speedily made out, and in few days Miss Cunningham was quite restored to her usual state of health and enjoyment.

Time rolled on. The _Arethusa_ has sailed. Mr Gordon has returned to Deptford, and resumed his ordinary duties. Has all intercourse ceased between him and Miss Cunningham? Assuredly not. Many a kind letter has passed between them. She has been to England visiting his sister, at that sister's kind invitation, and is come back to Anstruther. Charles has proposed to her, and been accepted, and has obtained a special licence for their marriage. He comes back to Anstruther to claim his bride.