CHAPTER XXIII.
"Whilst vengeance, in the lurid air, Lifts her red arm, exposed and bare-- Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see; And look not madly wild, like thee!" _Collins_.
It is certain that Tom Coffin had devised no settled plan of operations,when he issued from the apartment of Borroughcliffe, if we except a mostresolute determination to make the best of his way to the Ariel, andto share her fate, let it be either to sink or swim. But this was aresolution much easier formed by the honest seaman than executed, in hispresent situation. He would have found it less difficult to extricate avessel from the dangerous shoals of the "Devil's Grip," than to threadthe mazes of the labyrinth of passages, galleries, and apartments, inwhich he found himself involved. He remembered, as he expressed it tohimself, in a low soliloquy, "to have run into a narrow passage from themain channel, but whether he had sheered to the starboard or larboardhand" was a material fact that had entirely escaped his memory. Tom wasin that part of the building that Colonel Howard had designated as the"cloisters," and in which, luckily for him, he was but little liable toencounter any foe, the room occupied by Borroughcliffe being the onlyone in the entire wing that was not exclusively devoted to the serviceof the ladies. The circumstance of the soldier's being permitted toinvade this sanctuary was owing to the necessity, on the part of ColonelHoward, of placing either Griffith, Manual, or the recruiting officer,in the vicinity of his wards, or of subjecting his prisoners to atreatment that the veteran would have thought unworthy of his name andcharacter. This recent change in the quarters of Borroughcliffe operateddoubly to the advantage of Tom, by lessening the chance of the speedyrelease of his uneasy captive, as well as by diminishing his owndanger. Of the former circumstance he was, however, not aware: andthe consideration of the latter was a sort of reflection to which thecockswain was, in no degree, addicted.
Following, necessarily, the line of the wall, he soon emerged from thedark and narrow passage in which he had first found himself, and enteredthe principal gallery, that communicated with all the lower apartmentsof that wing, as well as with the main body of the edifice. An opendoor, through which a strong light was glaring, at a distant end of thisgallery, instantly caught his eye, and the old seaman had not advancedmany steps towards it, before he discovered that he was approaching thevery room which had so much excited his curiosity, and by the identicalpassage through which he had entered the abbey. To turn, and retrace hissteps, was the most obvious course for any man to take who felt anxiousto escape; but the sounds of high conviviality, bursting from thecheerful apartment, among which the cockswain thought he distinguishedthe name of Griffith, determined Tom to advance and reconnoitre thescene more closely. The reader will anticipate that when he paused inthe shadow, the doubting old seaman stood once more near the thresholdwhich he had so lately crossed, when conducted to the room ofBorroughcliffe. The seat of that gentleman was now occupied by Dillon,and Colonel Howard had resumed his wonted station at the foot of thetable. The noise was chiefly made by the latter, who had evidently beenenjoying a more minute relation of the means by which his kinsman hadentrapped his unwary enemy.
"A noble ruse!" cried the veteran, as Tom assumed his post, in ambush;"a most noble and ingenious ruse, and such a one as would have baffledCaesar! He must have been a cunning dog, that Caesar; but I do think,Kit, you would have been too much for him; hang me, if I don't thinkyou would have puzzled Wolfe himself, had you held Quebec, instead ofMontcalm! Ah, boy, we want you in the colonies, with the ermine overyour shoulders; such men as you, cousin Christopher, are sadly, sadlywanted there to defend his majesty's rights."
"Indeed, dear sir, your partiality gives me credit for qualities I donot possess," said Dillon, dropping his eyes, perhaps with a feeling ofconscious unworthiness, but with an air of much humility; "the littlejustifiable artifice----"
"Ay! there lies the beauty of the transaction," interrupted the colonel,shoving the bottle from him, with the free, open air of a man who neverharbored disguise; "you told no lie; no mean deception, that any dog,however base and unworthy, might invent; but you practised a neat, amilitary, a--a--yes, a classical deception on your enemy; a classicaldeception, that is the very term for it! such a deception as Pompey, orMark Antony, or--or--you know those old fellows' names, better thanI do, Kit; but name the cleverest fellow that ever lived in Greeceor Rome, and I shall say he is a dunce compared to you. 'Twas a realSpartan trick, both simple and honest."
It was extremely fortunate for Dillon, that the animation of his agedkinsman kept his head and body in such constant motion, during thisapostrophe, as to intercept the aim that the cockswain was deliberatelytaking at his head with one of Borroughcliffe's pistols; and perhapsthe sense of shame which induced him to sink his face on his hands wasanother means of saving his life, by giving the indignant old seamantime for reflection.
"But you have not spoken of the ladies," said Dillon, after a moment'spause; "I should hope they have borne the alarm of the day likekinswomen of the family of Howard."
The colonel glanced his eyes around him, as if to assure himself theywere alone, and dropped his voice, as he answered:
"Ah, Kit! they have come to, since this rebel scoundrel, Griffith, hasbeen brought into the abbey; we were favored with the company of evenMiss Howard, in the dining-room, to-day. There was a good deal of 'dearuncleing,' and 'fears that my life might be exposed by the quarrels andskirmishes of these desperadoes who have landed;' as if an old fellow,who served through the whole war, from '56 to '63, was afraid to let hisnose smell gunpowder any more than if it were snuff! But it will bea hard matter to wheedle an old soldier out of his allegiance! ThisGriffith goes to the Tower, at least, Mr. Dillon."
"It would be advisable to commit his person to the civil authority,without delay."
"To the constable of the Tower, the Earl Cornwallis, a good and loyalnobleman, who is, at this moment, fighting the rebels in my own nativeprovince, Christopher," interrupted the colonel; "that will be what Icall retributive justice; but," continued the veteran, rising with anair of gentlemanly dignity, "it will not do to permit even the constableof the Tower of London to surpass the master of St. Ruth in hospitalityand kindness to his prisoners. I have ordered suitable refreshments totheir apartments, and it is incumbent on me to see that my commands havebeen properly obeyed. Arrangements must also be made for the receptionof this Captain Barnstable, who will, doubtless, soon be here."
"Within the hour, at farthest," said Dillon, looking uneasily at hiswatch.
"We must be stirring, boy," continued the colonel, moving towardsthe door that led to the apartments of his prisoners; "but there is acourtesy due to the ladies, as well as to those unfortunate violatorsof the laws--go, Christopher, convey my kindest wishes to Cecilia; shedon't deserve them, the obstinate vixen, but then she is my brotherHarry's child! and while there, you arch dog, plead your own cause.Mark Antony was a fool to you at a 'ruse,' and yet Mark was one of yoursuccessful suitors, too; there was that Queen of the Pyramids--"
The door closed on the excited veteran, at these words, and Dillon wasleft standing by himself, at the side of the table, musing, as if indoubt, whether to venture on the step that his kinsman had proposed, ornot.
The greater part of the preceding discourse was unintelligible to thecockswain, who had waited its termination with extraordinary patience,in hopes he might obtain some information that he could render ofservice to the captives. Before he had time to decide on what was nowbest for him to do, Dillon suddenly determined to venture himself in thecloisters; and, swallowing a couple of glasses of wine in a breath, hepassed the hesitating cockswain, who was concealed by the opening door,so closely as to brush his person, and moved down the gallery with thoserapid strides which men who act under the impulse of forced resolutionsare very apt to assume, as if to conceal their weakness fromthemselves.--Tom hesitated no longer; but aiding the impulse givento the door by Dillon, as he passed, so as to darken the passage, hefollowed the sounds of the other's footsteps
, while he trod in themanner already described, the stone pavement of the gallery. Dillonpaused an instant at the turning that led to the room of Borroughcliffe,but whether irresolute which way to urge his steps, or listening tothe incautious and heavy tread of the cockswain, is not known; if thelatter, he mistook them for the echoes of his own footsteps, and movedforward again without making any discovery.
The light tap which Dillon gave on the door of the withdrawing-room ofthe cloisters was answered by the soft voice of Cecilia Howard herself,who bid the applicant enter. There was a slight confusion evident inthe manner of the gentleman as he complied with the bidding, and in itshesitancy, the door was, for an instant, neglected.
"I come, Miss Howard," said Dillon, "by the commands of your uncle, and,permit me to add, by my own--"
"May Heaven shield us!" exclaimed Cecilia, clasping her hands inaffright, and rising involuntarily from her couch, "are we, too, to beimprisoned and murdered?"
"Surely Miss Howard will not impute to me--" Dillon paused, observingthat the wild looks, not only of Cecilia, but of Katherine and AliceDunscombe, also, were directed at some other object, and turning, tohis manifest terror he beheld the gigantic frame of the cockswain,surmounted by an iron visage fixed in settled hostility, in possessionof the only passage from the apartment.
"If there's murder to be done," said Tom, after surveying the astonishedgroup with a stern eye, "it's as likely this here liar will be the oneto do it, as another; but you have nothing to fear from a man who hasfollowed the seas too long, and has grappled with too many monsters,both fish and flesh, not to know how to treat a helpless woman. None,who know him, will say that Thomas Coffin ever used uncivil language, orunseamanlike conduct, to any of his mother's kind."
"Coffin!" exclaimed Katherine, advancing with a more confident air, fromthe corner into which terror had driven her with her companions.
"Ay, Coffin," continued the old sailor, his grim features graduallyrelaxing, as he gazed on her bright looks; "'tis a solemn word, but it'sa word that passes over the shoals, among the islands, and along thecape, oftener than any other. My father was a Coffin, and my mother wasa Joy; and the two names can count more flukes than all the rest in theisland together; though the Worths, and the Gar'ners, and the Swaines,dart better harpoons, and set truer lances, than any men who come fromthe weather-side of the Atlantic."
Katherine listened to this digression in honor of the whalers ofNantucket, with marked complacency; and, when he concluded, she repeatedslowly:
"Coffin! this, then, is long Tom!"
"Ay, ay, long Tom, and no sham in the name either," returned thecockswain, suffering the stern indignation that had lowered aroundhis hard visage to relax into a low laugh as he gazed on her animatedfeatures; "the Lord bless your smiling face and bright black eyes,young madam! you have heard of old long Tom, then? Most likely, 'twassomething about the blow he strikes at the fish--ah! I'm old and I'mstiff, now, young madam, but afore I was nineteen, I stood at the headof the dance, at a ball on the cape, and that with a partner almost ashandsome as yourself--ay! and this was after I had three broad flukeslogg'd against my name."
"No," said Katherine, advancing in her eagerness a step or two nigher tothe old tar, her cheeks flushing while she spoke, "I had heard of you asan instructor in a seaman's duty, as the faithful cockswain, nay, Imay say, as the devoted companion and friend, of Mr. RichardBarnstable--but, perhaps, you come now as the bearer of some message orletter from that gentleman."
The sound of his commander's name suddenly revived the recollection ofCoffin, and with it all the fierce sternness of his manner returned.Bending his eyes keenly on the cowering form of Dillon, he said, inthose deep, harsh tones, that seem peculiar to men who have bravedthe elements, until they appear to have imbided some of their roughestqualities:
"Liar! how now? what brought old Tom Coffin into these shoals and narrowchannels? was it a letter? Ha! but by the Lord that maketh the winds toblow, and teacheth the lost mariner how to steer over the wide waters,you shall sleep this night, villain, on the planks of the Ariel; and ifit be the will of God that beautiful piece of handicraft is to sink ather moorings, like a worthless hulk, ye shall still sleep in her; ay,and a sleep that shall not end, till they call all hands, to foot up theday's work of this life, at the close of man's longest voyage."
The extraordinary vehemence, the language, the attitude of the oldseaman, commanding in its energy, and the honest indignation that shonein every look of his keen eyes, together with the nature of the address,and its paralyzing effect on Dillon, who quailed before it like thestricken deer, united to keep the female listeners, for many moments,silent through amazement. During this brief period, Tom advanced uponhis nerveless victim, and lashing his arms together behind his back,he fastened him, by a strong cord, to the broad canvas belt thathe constantly wore around his own body, leaving to himself, by thisarrangement, the free use of his arms and weapons of offence, while hesecured his captive.
"Surely," said Cecilia, recovering her recollection the first of theastonished group, "Mr. Barnstable has not commissioned you to offer thisviolence to my uncle's kinsman, under the roof of Colonel Howard?--MissPlowden, your friend has strangely forgotten himself in thistransaction, if this man acts in obedience to his order!"
"My friend, my cousin Howard," returned Katharine, "would nevercommission his cockswain, or any one, to do an unworthy deed. Speak,honest sailor; why do you commit this outrage on the worthy Mr. Dillon,Colonel Howard's kinsman, and a cupboard cousin of St. Ruth's Abbey?"
"Nay, Katherine--"
"Nay, Cecilia, be patient, and let the stranger have utterance; he maysolve the difficulty altogether."
The cockswain, understanding that an explanation was expected from hislips, addressed himself to the task with an energy suitable both to thesubject and to his own feelings. In a very few words, though a littleobscured by his peculiar diction, he made his listeners understand theconfidence that Barnstable had reposed in Dillon, and the treacheryof the latter. They heard him with increased astonishment, and Ceciliahardly allowed him time to conclude, before she exclaimed:
"And did Colonel Howard, could Colonel Howard listen to this treacherousproject!"
"Ay, they spliced it together among them," returned Tom; "though onepart of this cruise will turn out but badly."
"Even Borroughcliffe, cold and hardened as he appears to be by habit,would spurn at such dishonor," added Miss Howard.
"But Mr. Barnstable?" at length Katherine succeeded in saying, when herfeelings permitted her utterance, "said you not that soldiers were inquest of him?"
"Ay, ay, young madam," the cockswain replied, smiling with grimferocity, "they are in chase, but he has shifted his anchorage, and evenif they should find him, his long pikes would make short work of a dozenredcoats. The Lord of tempests and calms have mercy, though, on theschooner! Ah, young madam she, is as lovely to the eyes of an oldseafaring man as any of your kind can be to human nature!"
"But why this delay?--away then, honest Tom, and reveal the treachery toyour commander; you may not yet be too late--why delay a moment?"
"The ship tarries for want of a pilot.--I could carry three fathom overthe shoals of Nantucket, the darkest night that ever shut the windows ofheaven, but I should be likely to run upon breakers in this navigation.As it was, I was near getting into company that I should have had tofight my way out of."
"If that be all, follow me," cried the ardent Katherine; "I willconduct you to a path that leads to the ocean, without approaching thesentinels."
Until this moment, Dillon had entertained a secret expectation of arescue, but when he heard this proposal he felt his blood retreatingto his heart, from every part of his agitated frame, and his last hopeseemed wrested from him. Raising himself from the abject shrinkingattitude, in which both shame and dread had conspired to keep him asthough he had been fettered to the spot, he approached Cecilia, andcried, in tones of horror:
"Do not, do not consent, Miss Howard, t
o abandon me to the fury of thisman! Your uncle, your honorable uncle, even now applauded and unitedwith me in my enterprise, which is no more than a common artifice inwar."
"My uncle would unite, Mr. Dillon, in no project of deliberate treacherylike this," said Cecilia, coldly.
"He did, I swear by----"
"Liar!" interrupted the deep tones of the cockswain.
Dillon shivered with agony and terror, while the sounds of thisappalling voice sunk into his inmost soul; but as the gloom of thenight, the secret ravines of the cliffs, and the turbulence of theocean flashed across his imagination, he again yielded to a dread of thehorrors to which he should be exposed, in encountering them at the mercyof his powerful enemy, and he continued his solicitations:
"Hear me, once more hear me--Miss Howard, I beseech you, hear me! AmI not of your own blood and country? will you see me abandoned to thewild, merciless, malignant fury of this man, who will transfix mewith that--oh, God! if you had but seen the sight I beheld in theAlacrity!--hear me. Miss Howard; for the love you bear your Maker,intercede for me! Mr. Griffith shall be released----"
"Liar!" again interrupted the cockswain.
"What promises he?" asked Cecilia, turning her averted face once more atthe miserable captive.
"Nothing at all that will be fulfilled," said Katherine; "follow, honestTom, and I, at least, will conduct you in good faith."
"Cruel, obdurate Miss Plowden; gentle, kind Miss Alice, you will notrefuse to raise your voice in my favor; your heart is not hardened byany imaginary dangers to those you love."
"Nay, address not me," said Alice, bending her meek eyes to the floor;"I trust your life is in no danger; and I pray that he who has the powerwill have the mercy to see you unharmed."
"Away," said Tom, grasping the collar of the helpless Dillon, and rathercarrying than leading him into the gallery: "if a sound, one-quarteras loud as a young porpoise makes when he draws his first breath, comesfrom you, villain, you shall see the sight of the Alacrity over again.My harpoon keeps its edge well, and the old arm can yet drive it to theseizing."
This menace effectually silenced even the hard, perturbed breathingsof the captive, who, with his conductor, followed the light steps ofKatherine through some of the secret mazes of the building, until, in afew minutes, they issued through a small door into the open air. Withoutpausing to deliberate, Miss Plowden led the cockswain through thegrounds, to a different wicket from the one by which he had entered thepaddock, and pointing to the path, which might be dimly traced along thefaded herbage, she bade God bless him, in a voice that discovered herinterest in his safety, and vanished from his sight like an aerialbeing.
Tom needed no incentive to his speed, now that his course lay so plainlybefore him, but loosening his pistols in his belt, and poising hisharpoon, he crossed the fields at a gait that compelled his companion toexert his utmost powers, in the way of walking, to equal. Once or twice,Dillon ventured to utter a word or two; but a stern "silence" fromthe cockswain warned him to cease, until perceiving that they wereapproaching the cliffs, he made a final effort to obtain his liberty, byhurriedly promising a large bribe. The cockswain made no reply, and thecaptive was secretly hoping that his scheme was producing its wontedeffects, when he unexpectedly felt the keen cold edge of the barbed ironof the harpoon pressing against his breast, through the opening of hisruffles, and even raising the skin.
"Liar!" said Tom; "another word, and I'll drive it through your heart!"
From that moment, Dillon was as silent as the grave. They reached theedge of the cliffs, without encountering the party that had been sent inquest of Barnstable, and at a point near where they had landed. The oldseaman paused an instant on the verge of the precipice, and cast hisexperienced eyes along the wide expanse of water that lay before him.The sea was no longer sleeping, but already in heavy motion, androlling its surly waves against the base of the rocks on which he stood,scattering their white crests high in foam. The cockswain, after bendinghis looks along the whole line of the eastern horizon, gave utteranceto a low and stifled groan; and then, striking the staff of his harpoonviolently against the earth, he pursued his way along the very edgeof the cliffs, muttering certain dreadful denunciations, which theconscience of his appalled listener did not fail to apply to himself.It appeared to the latter, that his angry and excited leader soughtthe giddy verge of the precipice with a sort of wanton recklessness, sodaring were the steps that he took along its brow, notwithstanding thedarkness of the hour, and the violence of the blasts that occasionallyrushed by them, leaving behind a kind of reaction, that more than oncebrought the life of the manacled captive in imminent jeopardy. Butit would seem the wary cockswain had a motive for this apparentlyinconsiderate desperation. When they had made good quite half thedistance between the point where Barnstable had landed and that where hehad appointed to meet his cockswain, the sounds of voices were broughtindistinctly to their ears, in one of the momentary pauses of therushing winds, and caused the cockswain to make a dead stand in hisprogress. He listened intently for a single minute, when his resolutionappeared to be taken. He turned to Dillon and spoke; though his voicewas suppressed and low, it was deep and resolute.
"One word, and you die; over the cliffs! You must take a seaman'sladder: there is footing on the rocks, and crags for your hands. Overthe cliff, I bid ye, or I'll cast ye into the sea, as I would a deadenemy!"
"Mercy, mercy!" implored Dillon; "I could not do it in the day; by thislight I shall surely perish."
"Over with ye!" said Tom, "or----"
Dillon waited for no more, but descended, with trembling steps,the dangerous precipice that lay before him. He was followed by thecockswain, with a haste that unavoidably dislodged his captive fromthe trembling stand he had taken on the shelf of a rock, who, to hisincreased horror found himself dangling in the air, his body impendingover the sullen surf, that was tumbling in with violence upon the rocksbeneath him. An involuntary shriek burst from Dillon, as he felt hisperson thrust from the narrow shelf; and his cry sounded amidst thetempest, like the screechings of the spirit of the storm.
"Another such a call, and I cut your tow-line, villain," said thedetermined seaman, "when nothing short of eternity will bring you up."
The sounds of footsteps and voices were now distinctly audible, andpresently a party of armed men appeared on the edges of the rocks,directly above them.
"It was a human voice," said one of them, "and like a man in distress."
"It cannot be the men we are sent in search of," returned SergeantDrill; "for no watchword that I ever heard sounded like that cry."
"They say that such cries are often heard in storms along this coast,"said a voice that was uttered with less of military confidence than thetwo others: "and they are thought to come from drowned seamen."
A feeble laugh arose among the listeners, and one or two forced jokeswere made at the expense of their superstitious comrade; but the scenedid not fail to produce its effect on even the most sturdy among theunbelievers in the marvelous; for, after a few more similar remarks,the whole party retired from the cliffs, at a pace that might have beenaccelerated by the nature of their discourse. The cockswain, who hadstood all this time, firm as the rock which supported him, bearing upnot only his own weight, but the person of Dillon also, raised his headabove the brow of the precipice, as they withdrew, to reconnoitre,and then, drawing up the nearly insensible captive, and placing himin safety on the bank, he followed himself. Not a moment was wasted inunnecessary explanations, but Dillon found himself again urged forward,with the same velocity as before. In a few minutes they gained thedesired ravine, down which Tom plunged with a seaman's nerve, dragginghis prisoner after him, and directly they stood where the waves roseto their feet, as they flowed far and foaming across the sands.--Thecockswain stooped so low as to bring the crest of the billows in a linewith the horizon, when he discovered the dark boat, playing in the outeredge of the surf.
"What hoa! Ariels there!" shouted Tom, in a voice that the
growingtempest carried to the ears of the retreating soldiers, who quickenedtheir footsteps, as they listened to sounds which their fears taughtthem to believe supernatural.
"Who hails?" cried the well-known voice of Barnstable.
"Once your master, now your servant," answered the cockswain with awatchword of his own invention.
"'Tis he," returned the lieutenant; "veer away, boys, veer away. Youmust wade into the surf."
Tom caught Dillon in his arms; and throwing him, like a cork, across hisshoulder, he dashed into the streak of foam that was bearing the boaton its crest, and before his companion had time for remonstrance orentreaty, he found himself once more by the side of Barnstable.
"Who have we here?" asked the lieutenant; "this is not Griffith!"
"Haul out and weigh your grapnel," said the excited cockswain; "andthen, boys, if you love the Ariel, pull while the life and the will isleft in you."
Barnstable knew his man, and not another question was asked, until theboat was without the breakers, now skimming the rounded summits of thewaves, or settling into the hollows of the seas, but always cutting thewaters asunder, as she urged her course, with amazing velocity, towardsthe haven where the schooner had been left at anchor. Then, in a few butbitter sentences, the cockswain explained to his commander the treacheryof Dillon, and the danger of the schooner.
"The soldiers are slow at a night muster," Tom concluded; "and from whatI overheard, the express will have to make a crooked course, to doublethe head of the bay, so that, but for this northeaster, we might weatherupon them yet; but it's a matter that lies altogether in the will ofProvidence. Pull, my hearties, pull--everything depends on your oarsto-night."
Barnstable listened in deep silence to this unexpected narration, whichsounded in the ears of Dillon like his funeral knell. At length, thesuppressed voice of the lieutenant was heard, also, uttering:
"Wretch! if I should cast you into the sea, as food for the fishes, whocould blame me? But if my schooner goes to the bottom, she shall proveyour coffin!"