Sir Ludar Part 57

Beside me, on the p.o.o.p, Ludar stood erect and n.o.ble, with the half- defiant, half-triumphant gleam on his face, as, with hands still on the tiller, he listened to the fatal music of his old home ahead.

In the darkness we could see nothing but the white waste of breakers on to which we were driving.

Presently, as we were almost upon them, Ludar grasped my arm, and pointed high overhead.

There was a momentary gleam of light, and with it a glimpse of a rugged battlement at the rock's edge.

"Dunluce! Dunluce!" he shouted, and let swing the now useless tiller.

Scarce a minute later the _Gerona_ was in her death agony among the las.h.i.+ng breakers.

For a moment or two she held up bravely. Then with a mighty swirl she reared upward and hung quivering an instant in suspense.

Ludar's hand and mine sought one another, and, as we waited thus, we could see above us the n.o.ble form of Don Alonzo, cool and impa.s.sive as a man on parade, saluting his King's ensign for the last time.

Then all I remember was a great yell from the slaves at the p.o.o.p, and the dull thunder of a broadside, as the _Gerona_ fell cras.h.i.+ng to her doom.

It was broad daylight when I opened my eyes and saw the sun struggling to break through the black clouds overhead. The thunder of waves still dinned in my ear, the salt wind was still on my lips, while a sharp pain at my shoulder, when I turned my head to look about me, told me that I was at least alive.

The pain was so acute that I closed my eyes again, and opened them not till I heard the sound of a harsh voice at my side.

What it said I know not, but some one turned me over with his foot, and brought from me a cry of agony which made him reel a pace or two back in consternation.

Then, just as I heard another voice, in plain English, say, "Great G.o.d, he lives!" all was dim again before my eyes. Once more the pain awaked me; and I found myself lying, I suppose, on some stretcher, being slowly borne on men's shoulders up a steep path. I was too weak to do aught but groan, and my groans my bearers heard not. But at last the English voice said; "Halt, and set him down. He may be dead already and so save us the pains of carrying him further."

'Twas a voice I knew; but the agony of my setting down made me forget whose, until once more bending over me, and putting back the hair from my brow, the fellow exclaimed:

"Why, this is--mercy on us!--if it be not him they called Dexter."

"What!" cried another voice, "doth Neptunus yield us pearls? and on these inhospitable sh.o.r.es doth Arion indeed discover his lost 'prentice?

hath the Hollander wings to carry--"

"A curse on thy tom-fooling tongue!" said the other. "Hath not the poor wretch had drenching enough, that you must spout thus on the top of him?

Say, Humphrey Dexter, how fare you?"

"Is that you, Jack Gedge?"

"Sure enough."

"And Ludar?"

The fellow gave a gasp, but said nothing. And, in the horror of that silence, I lost all care of life.

I must have been lying still in the same place when next, with a strange thrill of wonder, I lifted my eyes and saw, bent over me, the sweet face of my own Jeannette.

"Humphrey," whispered she, as she kissed my wet brow, "is it indeed thou?"

"Ay, sweetheart," said I.

And I forgot all else for a while.

Presently they carried me up to the top of the path, Jeannette walking with her hand in mine. And so, till before us rose a grim portal which I knew well to be the gate of Dunluce.

The sight of that familiar entry recalled to my mind the great burden on my heart.

"Jeannette," said I, as she bent beside me. "What of Ludar?"

"We hope, dear Humphrey, thine is not the only life saved from the wreck."

"Is he heard of? And the maiden--?" I asked.

"I know not. Till you named him just now, no one knew he was with you.

But now the soldier and the poet have gone to seek news. And my dear mistress, I think, waits here."

"She is here? How come you both in Dunluce?" I asked.

"The old McDonnell will not allow the maiden out of his sight, so dearly he loves her," said Jeannette.

As soon as I was laid in a bed, and my broken arm set by the castle leech, I revived quickly. And as I did so, the load on my heart concerning Ludar grew so heavy, that not even the presence of Jeannette could banish it.

I begged to see the maiden.

'Twas wonderful to see her as she came in, stately and beautiful as ever, betraying only in the pallor of her cheeks the terrible anguish that possessed her.

She came and kissed me like a sister, and then, laying her hand in Jeannette's, tears came to her eyes as she gave us joy of our happy meeting, after so much peril.

"Maiden," said I, "we know no happiness while you stand thus desolate.

But Ludar lives. As sure as I lie here, you shall find him, and we shall all thank Heaven together."

Her face brightened.

"You have said as much before," said she, "and it has come to pa.s.s.

Yes, I will hope still."

But her voice fell sadly with the words, and her face turned to the window, seaward.

Then she bade me tell her what had pa.s.sed since we parted in London, and how Ludar and I came on the _Gerona_. And, hearing of all the chances that had befallen us, I think she took a little hope that all this buffetting and peril was not a.s.suredly to end in loss.

But she said nothing. Only she kept her hand in Jeannette's; and when I told her of the horrible scene on the bog by Killybegs, she shuddered, and muttered what, I fear, was a prayer for the soul of a dead man.

"But how come you in Dunluce?" I asked again, presently.

'Twas Jeannette who answered me.

"'Tis easily told, dear Humphrey. After Sir Turlogh departed for Dublin, leaving us in charge of this,"--here she s.h.i.+vered--"this Captain Merriman, my mistress and I kept our chambers, and durst not so much as venture beyond the door. Our good protectors--Heaven reward them!--had been banished the place; and but for a few of the O'Neill's men, who stood in the way, we had not been safe where we were for a day.

"At last, one day, there came suddenly a messenger, purporting to be from the O'Neill, bidding the Captain send his daughter to him under an escort to Dublin. On this the Captain rudely broke into our chambers, and bade us there and then set out. What could two weak maids do? We could read treachery in his wicked eye, yet naught we could say or pretend could put him off; and there and then, without time so much as to speak a word to one another, we were marched forth, like prisoners, and mounted on our steeds.