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The Pirate
There was a pause of unusual duration ere the oracle would return any answer; and when she replied, it was in a lower, though an equally decided tone, with that which she had hitherto employed: —
Norna“Gold is ruddy, fair, and free,Blood is crimson, and dark to see; —I look’d out on Saint Magnus Bay,And I saw a falcon that struck her prey, —A gobbet of flesh in her beak she bore,And talons and singles are dripping with gore;Let him that asks after them look on his hand,And if there is blood on’t, he’s one of their band.”Cleveland smiled scornfully, and held out his hand, – “Few men have been on the Spanish main as often as I have, without having had to do with the Guarda Costas once and again; but there never was aught like a stain on my hand that a wet towel would not wipe away.”
The Udaller added his voice potential – “There is never peace with Spaniards beyond the Line, – I have heard Captain Tragendeck and honest old Commodore Rummelaer say so an hundred times, and they have both been down in the Bay of Honduras, and all thereabouts. – I hate all Spaniards, since they came here and reft the Fair Isle men of their vivers in 1558.68 I have heard my grandfather speak of it; and there is an old Dutch history somewhere about the house, that shows what work they made in the Low Countries long since. There is neither mercy nor faith in them.”
“True – true, my old friend,” said Cleveland; “they are as jealous of their Indian possessions as an old man of his young bride; and if they can catch you at disadvantage, the mines for your life is the word, – and so we fight them with our colours nailed to the mast.”
“That is the way,” shouted the Udaller; “the old British jack should never down! When I think of the wooden walls, I almost think myself an Englishman, only it would be becoming too like my Scottish neighbours; – but come, no offence to any here, gentlemen – all are friends, and all are welcome. – Come, Brenda, go on with the play – do you speak next, you have Norse rhymes enough, we all know.”
“But none that suit the game we play at, father,” said Brenda, drawing back.
“Nonsense!” said her father, pushing her onward, while Halcro seized on her reluctant hand; “never let mistimed modesty mar honest mirth – Speak for Brenda, Halcro – it is your trade to interpret maidens’ thoughts.”
The poet bowed to the beautiful young woman, with the devotion of a poet and the gallantry of a traveller, and having, in a whisper, reminded her that she was in no way responsible for the nonsense he was about to speak, he paused, looked upward, simpered as if he had caught a sudden idea, and at length set off in the following verses:
Claud Halcro“Mother doubtful, Mother dread —Dweller of the Fitful-head,Well thou know’st it is thy taskTo tell what beauty will not ask; —Then steep thy words in wine and milk,And weave a doom of gold and silk, —For we would know, shall Brenda proveIn love, and happy in her love?”The prophetess replied almost immediately from behind her curtain: —
Norna“Untouched by love, the maiden’s breastIs like the snow on Rona’s crest,High seated in the middle sky,In bright and barren purity;But by the sunbeam gently kiss’d,Scarce by the gazing eye ’tis miss’d,Ere down the lonely valley stealing,Fresh grass and growth its course revealing,It cheers the flock, revives the flower,And decks some happy shepherd’s bower.”“A comfortable doctrine, and most justly spoken,” said the Udaller, seizing the blushing Brenda, as she was endeavouring to escape – “Never think shame for the matter, my girl. To be the mistress of some honest man’s house, and the means of maintaining some old Norse name, making neighbours happy, the poor easy, and relieving strangers, is the most creditable lot a young woman can look to, and I heartily wish it to all here. – Come, who speaks next? – good husbands are going – Maddie Groatsettar – my pretty Clara, come and have your share.”
The Lady Glowrowrum shook her head, and “could not,” she said, “altogether approve” —
“Enough said – enough said,” replied Magnus; “no compulsion; but the play shall go on till we are tired of it. Here, Minna – I have got you at command. Stand forth, my girl – there are plenty of things to be ashamed of besides old-fashioned and innocent pleasantry. – Come, I will speak for you myself – though I am not sure I can remember rhyme enough for it.”
There was a slight colour which passed rapidly over Minna’s face, but she instantly regained her composure, and stood erect by her father, as one superior to any little jest to which her situation might give rise.
Her father, after some rubbing of his brow, and other mechanical efforts to assist his memory, at length recovered verse sufficient to put the following query, though in less gallant strains than those of Halcro: —
Magnus Troil“Mother, speak, and do not tarry,Here’s a maiden fain would marry.Shall she marry, ay or not?If she marry, what’s her lot?”A deep sigh was uttered within the tabernacle of the soothsayer, as if she compassionated the subject of the doom which she was obliged to pronounce. She then, as usual, returned her response: —
Norna“Untouch’d by love, the maiden’s breastIs like the snow on Rona’s crest;So pure, so free from earthly dye,It seems, whilst leaning on the sky,Part of the heaven to which ’tis nigh;But passion, like the wild March rain,May soil the wreath with many a stain.We gaze – the lovely vision’s gone —A torrent fills the bed of stone,That, hurrying to destruction’s shock,Leaps headlong from the lofty rock.”The Udaller heard this reply with high resentment. “By the bones of the Martyr,” he said, his bold visage becoming suddenly ruddy, “this is an abuse of courtesy! and, were it any but yourself that had classed my daughter’s name and the word destruction together, they had better have left the word unspoken. But come forth of the tent, thou old galdragon,”69 he added, with a smile – “I should have known that thou canst not long joy in any thing that smacks of mirth, God help thee!” His summons received no answer; and, after waiting a moment, he again addressed her – “Nay, never be sullen with me, kinswoman, though I did speak a hasty word – thou knowest I bear malice to no one, least of all to thee – so come forth, and let us shake hands. – Thou mightst have foretold the wreck of my ship and boats, or a bad herring-fishery, and I should have said never a word; but Minna or Brenda, you know, are things which touch me nearer. But come out, shake hands, and there let there be an end on’t.”
Norna returned no answer whatever to his repeated invocations, and the company began to look upon each other with some surprise, when the Udaller, raising the skin which covered the entrance of the tent, discovered that the interior was empty. The wonder was now general, and not unmixed with fear; for it seemed impossible that Norna could have, in any manner, escaped from the tabernacle in which she was enclosed, without having been discovered by the company. Gone, however, she was, and the Udaller, after a moment’s consideration, dropt the skin-curtain again over the entrance of the tent.
“My friends,” he said, with a cheerful countenance, “we have long known my kinswoman, and that her ways are not like those of the ordinary folks of this world. But she means well by Hialtland, and hath the love of a sister for me, and for my house; and no guest of mine needs either to fear evil, or to take offence, at her hand. I have little doubt she will be with us at dinner-time.”
“Now, Heaven forbid!” said Mrs. Baby Yellowley – “for, my gude Leddy Glowrowrum, to tell your leddyship the truth, I likena cummers that can come and gae like a glance of the sun, or the whisk of a whirlwind.”
“Speak lower, speak lower,” said the Lady Glowrowrum, “and be thankful that yon carlin hasna ta’en the house-side away wi’ her. The like of her have played warse pranks, and so has she hersell, unless she is the sairer lied on.”
Similar murmurs ran through the rest of the company, until the Udaller uplifted his stentorian and imperative voice to put them to silence, and invited, or rather commanded, the attendance of his guests to behold the boats set off for the haaf or deep-sea fishing.
“The wind has been high since sunrise,” he said, “and had kept the boats in the bay; but now it was favourable, and they would sail immediately.”
This sudden alteration of the weather occasioned sundry nods and winks amongst the guests, who were not indisposed to connect it with Norna’s sudden disappearance; but without giving vent to observations which could not but be disagreeable to their host, they followed his stately step to the shore, as the herd of deer follows the leading stag, with all manner of respectful observance.7071
CHAPTER II
There was a laughing devil in his sneer,That raised emotions both of rage and fear;And where his frown of hatred darkly fell,Hope withering fled – and Mercy sigh’d farewell.The Corsair, Canto I.The ling or white fishery is the principal employment of the natives of Zetland, and was formerly that upon which the gentry chiefly depended for their income, and the poor for their subsistence. The fishing season is therefore, like the harvest of an agricultural country, the busiest and most important, as well as the most animating, period of the year.
The fishermen of each district assemble at particular stations, with their boats and crews, and erect upon the shore small huts, composed of shingle and covered with turf, for their temporary lodging, and skeos, or drying-houses, for the fish; so that the lonely beach at once assumes the appearance of an Indian town. The banks to which they repair for the Haaf fishing, are often many miles distant from the station where the fish is dried; so that they are always twenty or thirty hours absent, frequently longer; and under unfavourable circumstances of wind and tide, they remain at sea, with a very small stock of provisions, and in a boat of a construction which seems extremely slender, for two or three days, and are sometimes heard of no more. The departure of the fishers, therefore, on this occupation, has in it a character of danger and of suffering, which renders it dignified, and the anxiety of the females who remain on the beach, watching the departure of the lessening boat, or anxiously looking out for its return, gives pathos to the scene.72
The scene, therefore, was in busy and anxious animation, when the Udaller and his friends appeared on the beach. The various crews of about thirty boats, amounting each to from three to five or six men, were taking leave of their wives and female relatives, and jumping on board their long Norway skiffs, where their lines and tackle lay ready stowed. Magnus was not an idle spectator of the scene; he went from one place to another, enquiring into the state of their provisions for the voyage, and their preparations for the fishing – now and then, with a rough Dutch or Norse oath, abusing them for blockheads, for going to sea with their boats indifferently found, but always ending by ordering from his own stores a gallon of gin, a lispund of meal, or some similar essential addition to their sea-stores. The hardy sailors, on receiving such favours, expressed their thanks in the brief gruff manner which their landlord best approved; but the women were more clamorous in their gratitude, which Magnus was often obliged to silence by cursing all female tongues from Eve’s downwards.
At length all were on board and ready, the sails were hoisted, the signal for departure given, the rowers began to pull, and all started from the shore, in strong emulation to get first to the fishing ground, and to have their lines set before the rest; an exploit to which no little consequence was attached by the boat’s crew who should be happy enough to perform it.
While they were yet within hearing of the shore, they chanted an ancient Norse ditty, appropriate to the occasion, of which Claud Halcro had executed the following literal translation: —
“Farewell, merry maidens, to song, and to laugh,For the brave lads of Westra are bound to the Haaf;And we must have labour, and hunger, and pain,Ere we dance with the maids of Dunrossness again.“For now, in our trim boats of Noroway deal,We must dance on the waves, with the porpoise and seal;The breeze it shall pipe, so it pipe not too high,And the gull be our songstress whene’er she flits by.“Sing on, my brave bird, while we follow, like thee,By bank, shoal, and quicksand, the swarms of the sea;And when twenty-score fishes are straining our line,Sing louder, brave bird, for their spoils shall be thine.“We’ll sing while we bait, and we’ll sing when we haul,For the deeps of the Haaf have enough for us all:There is torsk for the gentle, and skate for the carle,And there’s wealth for bold Magnus, the son of the earl.“Huzza! my brave comrades, give way for the Haaf,We shall sooner come back to the dance and the laugh;For life without mirth is a lamp without oil;Then, mirth and long life to the bold Magnus Troil!”The rude words of the song were soon drowned in the ripple of the waves, but the tune continued long to mingle with the sound of wind and sea, and the boats were like so many black specks on the surface of the ocean, diminishing by degrees as they bore far and farther seaward; while the ear could distinguish touches of the human voice, almost drowned amid that of the elements.
The fishermen’s wives looked their last after the parting sails, and were now departing slowly, with downcast and anxious looks, towards the huts in which they were to make arrangements for preparing and drying the fish, with which they hoped to see their husbands and friends return deeply laden. Here and there an old sibyl displayed the superior importance of her experience, by predicting, from the appearance of the atmosphere, that the wind would be fair or foul, while others recommended a vow to the Kirk of St. Ninian’s for the safety of their men and boats, (an ancient Catholic superstition, not yet wholly abolished,) and others, but in a low and timorous tone, regretted to their companions, that Norna of Fitful-head had been suffered to depart in discontent that morning from Burgh-Westra, “and, of all days in the year, that they suld have contrived to give her displeasure on the first day of the white fishing!”
The gentry, guests of Magnus Troil, having whiled away as much time as could be so disposed of, in viewing the little armament set sail, and in conversing with the poor women who had seen their friends embark in it, began now to separate into various groups and parties, which strolled in different directions, as fancy led them, to enjoy what may be called the clair-obscure of a Zetland summer day, which, though without the brilliant sunshine that cheers other countries during the fine season, has a mild and pleasing character of its own, that softens while it saddens landscapes, which, in their own lonely, bare, and monotonous tone, have something in them stern as well as barren.
In one of the loneliest recesses of the coast, where a deep indenture of the rocks gave the tide access to the cavern, or, as it is called, the Helyer, of Swartaster, Minna Troil was walking with Captain Cleveland. They had probably chosen that walk, as being little liable to interruption from others; for, as the force of the tide rendered the place unfit either for fishing or sailing, so it was not the ordinary resort of walkers, on account of its being the supposed habitation of a Mermaid, a race which Norwegian superstition invests with magical, as well as mischievous qualities. Here, therefore, Minna wandered with her lover.
A small spot of milk-white sand, that stretched beneath one of the precipices which walled in the creek on either side, afforded them space for a dry, firm, and pleasant walk of about an hundred yards, terminated at one extremity by a dark stretch of the bay, which, scarce touched by the wind, seemed almost as smooth as glass, and which was seen from between two lofty rocks, the jaws of the creek, or indenture, that approached each other above, as if they wished to meet over the dark tide that separated them. The other end of their promenade was closed by a lofty and almost unscaleable precipice, the abode of hundreds of sea-fowl of different kinds, in the bottom of which the huge helyer, or sea-cave, itself yawned, as if for the purpose of swallowing up the advancing tide, which it seemed to receive into an abyss of immeasurable depth and extent. The entrance to this dismal cavern consisted not in a single arch, as usual, but was divided into two, by a huge pillar of natural rock, which, rising out of the sea, and extending to the top of the cavern, seemed to lend its support to the roof, and thus formed a double portal to the helyer, on which the fishermen and peasants had bestowed the rude name of the Devil’s Nostrils. In this wild scene, lonely and undisturbed but by the clang of the sea-fowl, Cleveland had already met with Minna Troil more than once; for with her it was a favourite walk, as the objects which it presented agreed peculiarly with the love of the wild, the melancholy, and the wonderful. But now the conversation in which she was earnestly engaged, was such as entirely to withdraw her attention, as well as that of her companion, from the scenery around them.
“You cannot deny it,” she said; “you have given way to feelings respecting this young man, which indicate prejudice and violence, – the prejudice unmerited, as far as you are concerned at least, and the violence equally imprudent and unjustifiable.”
“I should have thought,” replied Cleveland, “that the service I rendered him yesterday might have freed me from such a charge. I do not talk of my own risk, for I have lived in danger, and love it; it is not every one, however, would have ventured so near the furious animal to save one with whom they had no connexion.”
“It is not every one, indeed, who could have saved him,” answered Minna, gravely; “but every one who has courage and generosity would have attempted it. The giddy-brained Claud Halcro would have done as much as you, had his strength been equal to his courage, – my father would have done as much, though having such just cause of resentment against the young man, for his vain and braggart abuse of our hospitality. Do not, therefore, boast of your exploit too much, my good friend, lest you should make me think that it required too great an effort. I know you love not Mordaunt Mertoun, though you exposed your own life to save his.”
“Will you allow nothing, then,” said Cleveland, “for the long misery I was made to endure from the common and prevailing report, that this beardless bird-hunter stood betwixt me and what I on earth coveted most – the affections of Minna Troil?”
He spoke in a tone at once impassioned and insinuating, and his whole language and manner seemed to express a grace and elegance, which formed the most striking contrast with the speech and gesture of the unpolished seaman, which he usually affected or exhibited. But his apology was unsatisfactory to Minna.
“You have known,” she said, “perhaps too soon, and too well, how little you had to fear, – if you indeed feared, – that Mertoun, or any other, had interest with Minna Troil. – Nay, truce to thanks and protestations; I would accept it as the best proof of gratitude, that you would be reconciled with this youth, or at least avoid every quarrel with him.”
“That we should be friends, Minna, is impossible,” replied Cleveland; “even the love I bear you, the most powerful emotion that my heart ever knew, cannot work that miracle.”
“And why, I pray you?” said Minna; “there have been no evil offences between you, but rather an exchange of mutual services; why can you not be friends? – I have many reasons to wish it.”
“And can you, then, forget the slights which he has cast upon Brenda, and on yourself, and on your father’s house?”
“I can forgive them all,” said Minna; – “can you not say so much, who have in truth received no offence?”
Cleveland looked down, and paused for an instant; then raised his head, and replied, “I might easily deceive you, Minna, and promise you what my soul tells me is an impossibility; but I am forced to use too much deceit with others, and with you I will use none. I cannot be friend to this young man; – there is a natural dislike – an instinctive aversion – something like a principle of repulsion in our mutual nature, which makes us odious to each other. Ask himself – he will tell you he has the same antipathy against me. The obligation he conferred on me was a bridle to my resentment; but I was so galled by the restraint, that I could have gnawed the curb till my lips were bloody.”
“You have worn what you are wont to call your iron mask so long, that your features,” replied Minna, “retain the impression of its rigidity even when it is removed.”
“You do me injustice, Minna,” replied her lover, “and you are angry with me because I deal with you plainly and honestly. Plainly and honestly, however, will I say, that I cannot be Mertoun’s friend, but it shall be his own fault, not mine, if I am ever his enemy. I seek not to injure him; but do not ask me to love him. And of this remain satisfied, that it would be vain even if I could do so; for as sure as I attempted any advances towards his confidence, so sure would I be to awaken his disgust and suspicion. Leave us to the exercise of our natural feelings, which, as they will unquestionably keep us as far separate as possible, are most likely to prevent any possible interference with each other. – Does this satisfy you?”
“It must,” said Minna, “since you tell me there is no remedy. – And now tell me why you looked so grave when you heard of your consort’s arrival, – for that it is her I have no doubt, – in the port of Kirkwall?”
“I fear,” replied Cleveland, “the consequences of that vessel’s arrival with her crew, as comprehending the ruin of my fondest hopes. I had made some progress in your father’s favour, and, with time, might have made more, when hither come Hawkins and the rest to blight my prospects for ever. I told you on what terms we parted. I then commanded a vessel braver and better found than their own, with a crew who, at my slightest nod, would have faced fiends armed with their own fiery element; but I now stand alone, a single man, destitute of all means to overawe or to restrain them; and they will soon show so plainly the ungovernable license of their habits and dispositions, that ruin to themselves and to me will in all probability be the consequence.”
“Do not fear it,” said Minna; “my father can never be so unjust as to hold you liable for the offences of others.”
“But what will Magnus Troil say to my own demerits, fair Minna?” said Cleveland, smiling.
“My father is a Zetlander, or rather a Norwegian,” said Minna, “one of an oppressed race, who will not care whether you fought against the Spaniards, who are the tyrants of the New World, or against the Dutch and English, who have succeeded to their usurped dominions. His own ancestors supported and exercised the freedom of the seas in those gallant barks, whose pennons were the dread of all Europe.”
“I fear, nevertheless,” said Cleveland, “that the descendant of an ancient Sea-King will scarce acknowledge a fitting acquaintance in a modern rover. I have not disguised from you that I have reason to dread the English laws; and Magnus, though a great enemy to taxes, imposts, scat, wattle, and so forth, has no idea of latitude upon points of a more general character; – he would willingly reeve a rope to the yard-arm for the benefit of an unfortunate buccanier.”
“Do not suppose so,” said Minna; “he himself suffers too much oppression from the tyrannical laws of our proud neighbours of Scotland. I trust he will soon be able to rise in resistance against them. The enemy – such I will call them – are now divided amongst themselves, and every vessel from their coast brings intelligence of fresh commotions – the Highlands against the Lowlands – the Williamites against the Jacobites – the Whigs against the Tories, and, to sum the whole, the kingdom of England against that of Scotland. What is there, as Claud Halcro well hinted, to prevent our availing ourselves of the quarrels of these robbers, to assert the independence of which we are deprived?”
