Will Weatherhelm Part 6

The officers were pretty quickly aloft to see what the strangers could be, for some thought perhaps it was an enemy's fleet. As they drew near, however, they were p.r.o.nounced to be merchantmen, and before long we ascertained by their signals that they were part of a homeward-bound West India convoy, which had been separated in a gale of wind, off the banks of Newfoundland, from the s.h.i.+ps of war in charge of them. Finding that they were totally unprotected, our captain made up his mind that it was his duty to see them safe into port, and signalling to them to keep together and put themselves under his orders, he invited some of the masters of the vessels near him to come on board to give him the news.

Among other things, he learned that a fast-sailing French privateer had been hovering about them for some time, and had already picked off two, if not more, of their number, both heavily laden and valuable s.h.i.+ps belonging to London; and the masters were of opinion that she had carried them into Santa Cruz, a harbour in the island of Teneriffe, one of the Canaries, because they had spoken an American vessel, the master of which told them that he had pa.s.sed two such s.h.i.+ps, accompanied by a craft answering to the description of the privateer, steering for that place. This information made the captain in a greater hurry than ever to get back to England, as he had made up his mind, as it afterwards appeared, to go and try to cut the s.h.i.+ps out.

A strong westerly wind sprang up soon after this, and carried us in five days, with all our convoy, safe into Plymouth Sound. Now, for the first time after so many years, I found myself back at the place where I had pa.s.sed my childhood, and where the only relations I had ever known, the only beings whose love I had any right to claim, resided. How eagerly I gazed on the sh.o.r.e, and I thought even that I could make out the little neat white row of cottages outside the town, in one of which my grandmother and aunt lived! But now came the question, how could I hope to get on sh.o.r.e? It was not likely that any leave would be granted, as we guessed that the frigate would not remain more than a day or two in harbour. The captain had gone on sh.o.r.e to we the admiral, and the first lieutenant was also called away, so that the s.h.i.+p was left in charge of the second lieutenant, who had pressed me. I knew that I was not likely to get what I wanted by holding back, so I made bold and went up to him and told him how I had left my grandmother when I was a boy, and had been kept knocking about ever since, and had only once, for a few hours, set my foot on English ground in the London docks, and how I would give anything if I might just run up and see how the old lady and my aunt were, and show them that I was alive.

"I think I may trust you, my lad," said the lieutenant, looking hard at me. "But who will be answerable for you?"

"Mr Merton, sir. I know he will. He has known me for some time," I answered earnestly. The lieutenant smiled; he was not accustomed to hear a topman have a mister put to his name. "I mean Joe Merton--beg pardon, sir," said I, "he was my officer for some years."

"No offence, my man; I like to hear a person speak respectfully of those above him," answered the lieutenant. "He is your officer still, I fancy. Well, if you can get him to be answerable for you, you may go on sh.o.r.e for ten hours. I cannot give you longer leave than that."

"Thank you, sir; thank you," said I, and I hurried below to look for Mr Merton. I found him hard at work writing a letter to send on sh.o.r.e; but he instantly jumped up, and accompanied me on deck to a.s.sure the lieutenant that I would return. So on sh.o.r.e I went with great joy; but my knees almost trembled as I walked up the steep streets towards the part of the town where my grandmother and aunt lived. I had seen a good many strange places since last I walked down those streets on my way to join the _Kite_, and though, after thinking a moment, I easily found the road without asking, the houses seemed changed somehow or other. They were lower and narrower and less fine-looking than I expected. At last I reached the quiet little house I knew so well. By climbing up an iron railing before it I could, when a boy, look into the parlour over the blind. There wag no necessity to climb now. By holding on by the rail, and stretching myself upon my toes, I could easily look in; I could not help doing so before knocking. There I saw an old lady with a neat white cap and dressed in black, bending over her knitting. Her back was towards me; but somehow or other I did not think that it could be Granny. Her figure was too small and slight for that of Aunt Bretta.

Who could it be then? My heart sank within me. It was some minutes before I could muster courage to knock. At last I went up to the door.

A little girl opened it. She was deaf and dumb, so she did not understand what I said, and I could not understand her signs.

"Come in," said a voice from the parlour. "Who is that? what does he want?"

On this I pushed open the parlour door, and then I saw the old lady whom I had observed through the window, seated in an arm-chair, with her knitting in her hand. I looked at her very hard. "I am Willand, your grandchild, Granny!" I exclaimed, springing across the room.

"Young man, you have made a strange mistake," said the old lady, in a voice which sent a chill through my heart. "I never had a grandchild.

You take me for some one else."

"Beg pardon, marm," said I, trying to recover myself. "I took you for my grandmother, Mrs Wetherholm, who once lived here. I have been at sea for many years, and have never heard from her or my aunt. Can you tell me where they are gone?"

"Sit down, young man, and let me think. I cannot answer all in a hurry," said she, and I thought her tone was much pleasanter than at first. "Your name is Wetherholm, is it? and what s.h.i.+p did you go to sea in?" I told her. "The _Kite_! That is strange," said she. "I should know something about that vessel. If Margaret were here, she would tell me, but my memory is not as good as it was. You want to know where your relatives are. Now I come to think of it, the old lady who lived in this house before me had a daughter. They came, I have heard, like my poor niece's family, from Shetland. Wetherholm was her name. Then I am sorry to say, young man, that she is dead."

"Dead!" I exclaimed. "Dear Granny dead!" And my heart came all of a sudden into my throat, and I fairly burst out crying as I should have done when a boy. For some time I could not stop myself; but I put my face between my hands, and bent down as I sat, trying to prevent the tears finding their way through my fingers. I hadn't had such a cry since I was a little boy, and then I felt very differently, I know. The old lady did not say a word, but let me have it out.

"That will do you good, young man," said she at length. "I don't think the worse of you for those tears, remember that."

I thanked her very much for her sympathy, and then asked her if she could tell me anything about Aunt Bretta.

"I can't tell you myself," she answered; "but Miss Rundle, who lives next door, knew her well; and I'll just send and ask her to step in, and she will give you all the information you want."

The old lady summoned her little deaf and dumb girl, and signing to her, in two minutes Miss Rundle made her appearance. I remembered Miss Rundle, and used to think her a very old woman then, but she did not look a day older, but rather younger than when I went away. I had no little difficulty in persuading her who I was, and at first I thought she seemed rather shocked at seeing a common sailor sitting down in her friend's parlour. However, at last I convinced her that I was no other than the long-lost Willand Wetherholm. She told me how my grandmother had long mourned at my absence, still believing that I was alive and would return, and always praying for my safety. At length she sickened--to the last expecting to see me. She had died about two years before; "and then," added my old acquaintance, "the good old lady sleeps quietly in the churchyard hard by. I often take a look at her tombstone. Her name is on it; you may see it there."

"That I will," said I. "It will do my heart good to go and see dear Granny's tombstone, as I cannot ever set eyes on her kind face again."

When I asked about Aunt Bretta, Miss Rundle bridled up a little, I thought.

"Well, she was my friend," said she; "and she was a very good woman, and I used to have a great respect for her. n.o.body made orange marmalade better than she did, or raspberry jam; and as for knitting, there was no one equalled her in all the country round. I have several of the bits of work she gave me, and I value them; but still I don't see what right one's friends have to go and demean themselves."

Rather astonished at these remarks, I asked what had happened.

"Why, young man, she went and got married," said Miss Rundle, drawing herself up.

"I don't see any great harm in her doing that," remarked the old lady.

"No, marm, not in marrying," answered Miss Rundle, somewhat sharply.

"It's a very lawful state to get into, I dare say; but I find fault with her in respect to the person to whom she got married. I don't want to offend the feelings of this young man, her nephew; but what was he but a common sailor, and more than that, he had a wooden leg."

"Aunt Bretta married to a common sailor with a wooden leg!" said I, scarcely knowing what I was saying, yet not thinking that there was anything very shocking in the matter. "What sort of a man was he, marm?

and can you tell me where they are gone, and where I shall find them? I long to see Aunt Bretta again."

"I won't deny that he was a pretty good-looking man enough, and as we do now and then exchange letters, I can tell you where she is to be found,"

answered Miss Rundle, softening down a little. "They live at Southsea, near Portsmouth. Her husband was an old s.h.i.+pmate of one of her brothers--your father, perhaps--and that is the way they became acquainted. His name is Kelson; you'll find them without difficulty."

"Aunt Bretta hasn't any family?" said I. "I should like to have a dozen little cousins to play with when I go to see her."

Miss Rundle looked very much shocked at the question, and said that as she had not been married much more than a year, that wasn't very likely.

Well, though all Miss Rundle's talk had for the moment driven away my sad thought, as soon as we were silent I felt very low-spirited and melancholy. I said that I would go up and have a walk through the churchyard, and the old lady begged that I would come back and take tea with her, when her niece would be there, who would be glad to hear me talk about the sea. Miss Rundle said that she had an engagement, and was very sorry she could not stop; but the old lady signed to the little girl to accompany me to point out my grandmother's tomb, remarking that I might otherwise have some difficulty in finding it.

The child tripped away before me, and we soon reached the churchyard.

She pointed out an unpretending white little slab of stone in a quiet corner, with a number of wild-flowers growing round it, and then, looking up into my face with an earnest, commiserating look, she nodded and ran off. I walked up to the stone and read a short inscription--

"ELLA WETHERHOLM LIES BENEATH.

HOPE, IF ON ME YOUR HOPE IS PLACED."

I felt very sad and grave, but I had no longer an inclination to cry.

"She wrote that for herself," I thought. "I'll try and hope as she hoped, and perhaps her prayers may lighten, if they do not remove, the heavy curse I brought down on my head."

With regard to the curse I fancied was following me, I now know that I was entirely mistaken. Our loving Father in Heaven does not curse His creatures, though He permits for their benefit the consequences of sin to fall on their heads.

I will not repeat all the ideas which pa.s.sed across my mind. I was not nearly so sad as I might have expected. I had met with sympathy and kindness, though from a stranger, and that lightened the burden; and then, though Miss Rundle was an odd creature, I could not help feeling pleased at seeing her again, and hearing from her about my aunt. I had little fear about her marriage, and I had every expectation of finding the sailor she had married, some fine old fellow well worthy of her, even though he had been all his life before the mast. While I was sitting down beside my grandmother's grave, and thinking of the years that were past, the days of my childhood, and the many strange things which had since occurred to me, every now and then reading over the words on the tombstone: "Hope!--if on me your hope is placed," and trying to understand their full meaning, and very full I found it, I happened to look up, and then I saw at a little distance a young woman who seemed to have been pa.s.sing along a path across the churchyard, regarding me attentively. She was dressed in black, which made her look very fair and pale, and certainly I had never seen anybody else in all my life who came up in appearance to what I should fancy an angel in heaven would look like. This is what I thought at the moment. When she saw that she was observed, she drew her shawl instinctively closer around her, and moved on.

CHAPTER SIX.

FIRST INTRODUCTION TO MISS TROALL--HAPPY EVENING--RETURN ON BOARD--AN EXPEDITION PLANNED--ATTACK ON PRIVATEERS--THE BOAT SINKS UNDER ME--MEET AN OLD FRIEND--FOLLOW HIS ADVICE--JOIN AN AMERICAN VESSEL--CHASED AGAIN--THE ACTION BETWEEN THE BRITISH AND FRENCH s.h.i.+PS--LAND OUR Pa.s.sENGERS--LOSS OF OUR VESSEL--GET ON Sh.o.r.e AT GUERNSEY--LA MOTTE AND HIS FAMILY--SAIL FOR PORTSMOUTH.

And so at length the dream in which I had so long indulged was realised.

Once more I trod my native sh.o.r.es. Once more I had visited the home of my childhood. What a blank I had found! My lot has been that of thousands of seamen--of thousands of poor wanderers over the face of the globe, of every rank and in every clime. It is the tale which many and many a s.h.i.+pmate has told me in our midnight watch:--"I got back to the place where I was born. I thought to find it a home, but most of those I left were dead! the rest removed. All were gone. The spot which once I knew so well, knew me no more; so I fell in with an old messmate. We had a jovial spree on sh.o.r.e, and then, when all our cash was gone, we went to sea again." Such was not my lot, though. Had I been inclined for a spree, which I was not, I had not time to indulge in it. I took a walk through some of the beautiful green lanes about Plymouth, and filled my hat full of wild-flowers, and then came back to the old lady's house to take my tea, as I had promised. I opened the door without ceremony, for I forgot entirely that it was not my own home, and walked into the parlour, expecting to find the old lady. Instead of her, what was my surprise to see seated at the tea-table the very young woman who had been watching me in the churchyard. I was regularly taken aback, and stammered out--

"Beg pardon, Miss, I didn't know that there was anybody here but the old lady who asked me to tea."

"You need not offer any excuse; my aunt told me you were coming," she answered, in just such a voice as I should have expected to hear when looking at her.

In a very few minutes she made me quite at home, and her aunt came in, and we soon were talking away just as if we were old friends. I will not say that I forgot my grandmother and aunt, but I should be wrong if I did not confess that my sorrow was very much soothed, and what is more, that in some respects I felt happier than I had done for a very long time. Tea was made, and I began to talk to them about my adventures and my s.h.i.+pwrecks.

"The most dreadful," said I, "was the first, when I and all my companions nearly lost our lives aboard the _Kite_."

"The _Kite_!" exclaimed the young lady, "the _Kite_! What do you know about her? Oh, in mercy tell me, young man!"

I saw she was very much agitated, but as I could not tell what part of the narrative to pa.s.s over or to touch on slightly, I told her all about the vessel from the time we left Plymouth till we got aboard the French brig; especially I could not help speaking of Seton and his bravery, and how he was wounded, and how he entreated me to bear his dying messages to his family, and to the girl to whom he was to be married. She seemed almost breathless as I proceeded with my story, but every now and then she would say, "Go on--in mercy go on." So I continued with my story to the end; "and," said I, "the first time I have freedom on sh.o.r.e, I will, please heaven, go and fulfil my promise to poor Seton. I remember the young lady's name--Margaret Troall."

"You have fulfilled it already," said the young lady, with a faltering voice, and bursting into tears; "I am Margaret Troall. And oh, believe me, I am most grateful to you."

I was astonished, I found that the rest of her family in England were dead, and that she and her aunt had come to live at Plymouth just as my aunt and her husband had left the place, and they had taken my grandmother's house, which was then vacant. At first, after all this, the young lady was very sad, but by degrees she recovered her spirits, and we talked on very pleasantly till Miss Rundle came in.