CHAPTER XXI.
Joy, joy, in London now!
SOUTHEY.
The news of the capture of the Rover reached Kirkwall, about an hourbefore noon, and filled all men with wonder and with joy. Littlebusiness was that day done at the Fair, whilst people of all ages andoccupations streamed from the place to see the prisoners as they weremarched towards Kirkwall, and to triumph in the different appearancewhich they now bore, from that which they had formerly exhibited whenranting, swaggering, and bullying in the streets of that town. Thebayonets of the marines were soon seen to glisten in the sun, and thencame on the melancholy troop of captives, handcuffed two and twotogether. Their finery had been partly torn from them by their captors,partly hung in rags about them; many were wounded and covered withblood, many blackened and scorched with the explosion, by which a few ofthe most desperate had in vain striven to blow up the vessel. Most ofthem seemed sullen and impenitent, some were more becomingly affectedwith their condition, and a few braved it out, and sung the same ribaldsongs to which they had made the streets of Kirkwall ring when they werein their frolics.
The Boatswain and Goffe, coupled together, exhausted themselves inthreats and imprecations against each other; the former charging Goffewith want of seamanship, and the latter alleging that the Boatswain hadprevented him from firing the powder that was stowed forward, and sosending them all to the other world together. Last came Cleveland andBunce, who were permitted to walk unshackled; the decent melancholy, yetresolved manner of the former, contrasting strongly with the stage strutand swagger which poor Jack thought it fitting to assume, in order toconceal some less dignified emotions. The former was looked upon withcompassion, the latter with a mixture of scorn and pity; while most ofthe others inspired horror, and even fear, by their looks and theirlanguage.
There was one individual in Kirkwall, who was so far from hastening tosee the sight which attracted all eyes, that he was not even aware ofthe event which agitated the town. This was the elder Mertoun, whoseresidence Kirkwall had been for two or three days, part of which hadbeen spent in attending to some judicial proceedings, undertaken at theinstance of the Procurator Fiscal, against that grave professor, BryceSnailsfoot. In consequence of an inquisition into the proceedings ofthis worthy trader, Cleveland's chest, with his papers and other matterstherein contained, had been restored to Mertoun, as the lawful custodierthereof, until the right owner should be in a situation to establish hisright to them. Mertoun was at first desirous to throw back upon Justicethe charge which she was disposed to intrust him with; but, on perusingone or two of the papers, he hastily changed his mind--in broken words,requested the Magistrate to let the chest be sent to his lodgings, and,hastening homeward, bolted himself into the room, to consider anddigest the singular information which chance had thus conveyed to him,and which increased, in a tenfold degree, his impatience for aninterview with the mysterious Norna of the Fitful-head.
It may be remembered that she had required of him, when they met in theChurchyard of Saint Ninian, to attend in the outer isle of the Cathedralof Saint Magnus, at the hour of noon, on the fifth day of the Fair ofSaint Olla, there to meet a person by whom the fate of Mordaunt would beexplained to him.--"It must be herself," he said; "and that I should seeher at this moment is indispensable. How to find her sooner, I know not;and better lose a few hours even in this exigence, than offend her by apremature attempt to force myself on her presence."
Long, therefore, before noon--long before the town of Kirkwall wasagitated by the news of the events on the other side of the island, theelder Mertoun was pacing the deserted aisle of the Cathedral, awaiting,with agonizing eagerness, the expected communication from Norna. Thebell tolled twelve--no door opened--no one was seen to enter theCathedral; but the last sounds had not ceased to reverberate through thevaulted roof, when, gliding from one of the interior side-aisles, Nornastood before him. Mertoun, indifferent to the apparent mystery of hersudden approach, (with the secret of which the reader is acquainted,)went up to her at once, with the earnest ejaculation--"Ulla--UllaTroil--aid me to save our unhappy boy!"
"To Ulla Troil," said Norna, "I answer not--I gave that name to thewinds, on the night that cost me a father!"
"Speak not of that night of horror," said Mertoun; "we have need of ourreason--let us not think on recollections which may destroy it; but aidme, if thou canst, to save our unfortunate child!"
"Vaughan," answered Norna, "he is already saved--long since saved; thinkyou a mother's hand--and that of such a mother as I am--would await yourcrawling, tardy, ineffectual assistance? No, Vaughan--I make myselfknown to you, but to show my triumph over you--it is the only revengewhich the powerful Norna permits herself to take for the wrongs of UllaTroil."
"Have you indeed saved him--saved him from the murderous crew?" saidMertoun, or Vaughan--"speak!--and speak truth!--I will believe everything--all you would require me to assent to!--prove to me only he isescaped and safe!"
"Escaped and safe, by my means," said Norna--"safe, and in assurance ofan honoured and happy alliance. Yes, great unbeliever!--yes, wise andself-opinioned infidel!--these were the works of Norna! I knew you manya year since; but never had I made myself known to you, save with thetriumphant consciousness of having controlled the destiny thatthreatened my son. All combined against him--planets which threateneddrowning--combinations which menaced blood--but my skill was superior toall.--I arranged--I combined--I found means--I made them--each disasterhas been averted;--and what infidel on earth, or stubborn demon beyondthe bounds of earth, shall hereafter deny my power?"
The wild ecstasy with which she spoke, so much resembled triumphantinsanity, that Mertoun answered--"Were your pretensions less lofty, andyour speech more plain, I should be better assured of my son's safety."
"Doubt on, vain sceptic!" said Norna--"And yet know, that not only isour son safe, but vengeance is mine, though I sought it not--vengeanceon the powerful implement of the darker Influences by whom my schemeswere so often thwarted, and even the life of my son endangered.--Yes,take it as a guarantee of the truth of my speech, that Cleveland--thepirate Cleveland--even now enters Kirkwall as a prisoner, and will soonexpiate with his life the having shed blood which is of kin to Norna's."
"Who didst thou say was prisoner?" exclaimed Mertoun, with a voice ofthunder--"_Who_, woman, didst thou say should expiate his crimes withhis life?"
"Cleveland--the pirate Cleveland!" answered Norna; "and by me, whosecounsel he scorned, he has been permitted to meet his fate."
"Thou most wretched of women!" said Mertoun, speaking from between hisclenched teeth,--"thou hast slain thy son, as well as thy father!"
"My son!--what son?--what mean you?--Mordaunt is your son--your onlyson!" exclaimed Norna--"is he not?--tell me quickly--is he not?"
"Mordaunt is indeed _my_ son," said Mertoun--"the laws, at least, gavehim to me as such--But, O unhappy Ulla! Cleveland is your son as well asmine--blood of our blood, bone of our bone; and if you have given him todeath, I will end my wretched life along with him!"
"Stay--hold--stop, Vaughan!" said Norna; "I am not yet overcome--provebut to me the truth of what you say, I would find help, if I shouldevoke hell!--But prove your words, else believe them I cannot."
"_Thou_ help! wretched, overweening woman!--in what have thycombinations and thy stratagems--the legerdemain of lunacy--the merequackery of insanity--in what have these involved thee?--and yet I willspeak to thee as reasonable--nay, I will admit thee as powerful--Hear,then, Ulla, the proofs which you demand, and find a remedy, if thoucanst:--
"When I fled from Orkney," he continued, after a pause--"it is nowfive-and-twenty years since--I bore with me the unhappy offspring towhom you had given light. It was sent to me by one of your kinswomen,with an account of your illness, which was soon followed by a generallyreceived belief of your death. It avails not to tell in what misery Ileft Europe. I found refuge in Hispaniola, wherein a fair young Spaniardundertook the task
of comforter. I married her--she became mother of theyouth called Mordaunt Mertoun."
"You married her!" said Norna, in a tone of deep reproach.
"I did, Ulla," answered Mertoun; "but you were avenged. She provedfaithless, and her infidelity left me in doubts whether the child shebore had a right to call me father--But I also was avenged."
"You murdered her!" said Norna, with a dreadful shriek.
"I did that," said Mertoun, without a more direct reply, "which made aninstant flight from Hispaniola necessary. Your son I carried with me toTortuga, where we had a small settlement. Mordaunt Vaughan, my son bymarriage, about three or four years younger, was residing inPort-Royal, for the advantages of an English education. I resolved neverto see him again, but I continued to support him. Our settlement wasplundered by the Spaniards, when Clement was but fifteen--Want came toaid despair and a troubled conscience. I became a corsair, and involvedClement in the same desperate trade. His skill and bravery, though thena mere boy, gained him a separate command; and after a lapse of two orthree years, while we were on different cruises, my crew rose on me, andleft me for dead on the beach of one of the Bermudas. I recovered,however, and my first enquiries, after a tedious illness, were afterClement. He, I heard, had been also marooned by a rebellious crew, andput ashore on a desert islet, to perish with want--I believed he had soperished."
"And what assures you that he did not?" said Ulla; "or how comes thisCleveland to be identified with Vaughan?"
"To change a name is common with such adventurers," answered Mertoun,"and Clement had apparently found that of Vaughan had become toonotorious--and this change, in his case, prevented me from hearing anytidings of him. It was then that remorse seized me, and that, detestingall nature, but especially the sex to which Louisa belonged, I resolvedto do penance in the wild islands of Zetland for the rest of my life. Tosubject myself to fasts and to the scourge, was the advice of the holyCatholic priests, whom I consulted. But I devised a nobler penance--Idetermined to bring with me the unhappy boy Mordaunt, and to keep alwaysbefore me the living memorial of my misery and my guilt. I have done so,and I have thought over both, till reason has often trembled on herthrone. And now, to drive me to utter madness, my Clement--my own, myundoubted son, revives from the dead to be consigned to an infamousdeath, by the machinations of his own mother!"
"Away, away!" said Norna, with a laugh, when she had heard the story toan end, "this is a legend framed by the old corsair, to interest my aidin favour of a guilty comrade. How could I mistake Mordaunt for my son,their ages being so different?"
"The dark complexion and manly stature may have done much," said BasilMertoun; "strong imagination must have done the rest."
"But, give me proofs--give me proofs that this Cleveland is my son, and,believe me, this sun shall sooner sink in the east, than they shall havepower to harm a hair of his head."
"These papers, these journals," said Mertoun, offering the pocket-book.
"I cannot read them," she said, after an effort, "my brain is dizzy."
"Clement has also tokens which you may remember, but they must havebecome the booty of his captors. He had a silver box with a Runicinscription, with which in far other days you presented me--a goldenchaplet."
"A box!" said Norna, hastily; "Cleveland gave me one but a day since--Ihave never looked at it till now."
Eagerly she pulled it out--eagerly examined the legend around the lid,and as eagerly exclaimed--"They may now indeed call me Reimkennar, forby this rhyme I know myself murderess of my son, as well as of myfather!"
The conviction of the strong delusion under which she had laboured, wasso overwhelming, that she sunk down at the foot of one of thepillars--Mertoun shouted for help, though in despair of receiving any;the sexton, however, entered, and, hopeless of all assistance fromNorna, the distracted father rushed out, to learn, if possible, the fateof his son.