The Sea-Witch, Maturin Murray Ballou [nonfiction book recommendations txt] 📗

bent, and this time double-reefed, the foretopsail, too, was bent, close-reefed and furled, while the fore and aft foresail was once more stowed, leaving the “Sea Witch” to scud under double-reefed foresail.

Five days of steady blow continued before the vessel could again show more than a small portion of her canvass. Then the wind once more hauled to the northwest, and the “Sea Witch” donned heir fore and aft rig on all her masts steering close-hauled again due cast, until the lofty headlands of the Cape de Verds hove gradually in sight, and the fleet clipper craft made her anchorage in the harbor of Port Praya.

The “Sea Witch,” whatever her business in this harbor, seemed able to transact it without venturing inside the forts, or taking stronger moorings than a single anchor could afford her. At this she rode with mysterious quiet. Not a soul of the full complement of men on board were visible from the shore; now and then perhaps the head of some taller hand than his fellows might loom up above the bulwarks at the waist, or a solitary seaman creep quietly aloft to reave a sheet through some block, or secure some portion of the rigging. The captain scarcely waited for his land-tackle to hold the vessel before a quarterboat was lowered away, and with a half-dozen sturdy fellows as its crew pulled boldly towards the main landing, where he stepped ashore and disappeared.

A suspicious eye would have marked the manner in which the sails upon the “Sea Witch” had been secured, and the way in which she was moored. If need be, three minutes would have covered her with canvass, and slipping her cable she could in that space of time, had the order been issued from her quarter deck, have been under way and looking once more seaward. Whatever her business, it was very clear that promptness, secrecy, and large precaution were elements of its success.

Nor had these characteristics, which we have named, escaped entire observation of the people on shore, for at the nearest point of land a group of idlers were visible, who stood gazing at and discussing the character of the vessel, while at the same moment her young commander was seen with his boat’s crew pulling back from the landing to his craft. His business was brief enough, for even now the anchor is once more away. The gallant ship spreads her broad wings one by one, and gracefully bending to the power of the breeze, glides, like a fleet courser, over the fathomless depths of the sea, while the mind that controls her motions again assumes his reverie on the quarterdeck.

 

CHAPTER IV.

BRAMBLE PARK.

 

CHANGING the field of our story from the blue waves to that of land, we must ask the reader to go back with us for a period of years from that wherein our story has opened, to the fertile country and highly-cultivated lands in the neighborhood of Manchester, England. Sir Robert Bramble’s estate was some eight miles from the large manufacturing town just named, and embraced within its grounds some of the most delightfully situated spots within a day’s ride in any direction. Parks, gardens, ponds, groves, stables and fine animals; in short, every accompaniment to a fine English estate. Sir Robert was a man of not much force of character, had inherited his estates, and had partly exhausted his income so far as to render a degree of economy imperatively necessary, a fact which was not calculated to render any more amiable a naturally irritable disposition.

The family at Bramble Park, as the estate was called, consisted of Sir Robert and his lady, a weak-minded, but once beautiful woman, and two sons, Robert and Charles, the eldest at this period some twelve years of age, the youngest about nine; the usual number of servants, in doors and out; made up the household. Sir Robert’s could hardly he said to be a very happy household, notwithstanding there seemed to be every element and requisite to be found there for peaceful domestic happiness; and perhaps it would have puzzled a casual observer to have ascertained wherein laid the root of that evil, which, like a poisonous upas, seemed to spread its branches through the household.

There was a cloud apparently shadowing each face there; there was constantly some trouble of a domestic character. Sir Robert and Lady Bramble seemed to be not on the best of terms with each other, and the servants wore a hang-dog look, as though they expected at any moment to be called to account for some piece of rascality. There was, however, one pleasant face in that household, though even that seemed tempered by sadness; this was the youngest brother, Charles. He was, or rather would have been, a cheerful, happy boy, but for the malign influence of his brother Robert, who seemed his opposite in almost everything. Robert was jealous, irritable and revengeful; Charles was open-hearted, mild and forgiving. Robert was cruel to both servants and animals; Charles was kind to all, and a favorite with all; even the dumb animals avoided one and adhered to the other, instinctively knowing a friend.

Robert was the first born and the favorite with his mother, whom he ruled literally in all things, while Sir Robert, looking upon him as the legal heir and representative of his name, of course considered him in a somewhat different light from that in which he regarded Charles. At times it seemed as though an evil spirit had taken possession of Robert’s heart, and he delighted in oppressing, domineering over and abusing his brother, who, though he did not lack for spirit, yet could never bring it to bear against Robert. He meekly bore his reproaches and abuse, and even at times had suffered personal chastisement at his hands without complaint to his parents, rather than irritate both them and himself by referring to so disagreeable a matter. With a naturally patient disposition, he suffered much without complaint.

Sir Robert and Lady Bramble seemed blind to the fact that the unbounded indulgence which they yielded to their eldest child was rendering still worse a disposition and habit which were already an affliction in themselves. But Robert was persevering, and would always carry his point, let it be what it might, teasing and cajoling the mother until she granted his wishes however absurd they might be. He domineered over every one, mother, father, servant maids and servant men; he was the terror of all.

Charles added to his light-heartedness and cheerfulness of spirit, great agility, and for a boy of his age, remarkable strength, in which matters Robert was deficient, and here his jealousy found ample scope. Charles, too, was remarkably apt with his studies, whereas Robert generally ended his lessons by quarrelling with his tutor, and setting both father and mother against him, by which reason the worthy who filled that post at Bramble Park was usually changed at least once in six or eight weeks, and thus were matters at the period to which we refer. It seemed as though Robert was never happy unless he was doing some one harm, or distressing some of the many pet animals about the spacious grounds; in this latter occupation he passed much of his leisure time, and was a great adept at the business.

A fine St. Charles spaniel, belonging to Lady Bramble, had one day, after being teased beyond forbearance by Robert, at last in self-defence, snapped at and lightly bit him, in revenge for which the violent tempered boy vowed to kill him, and the very next opportunity he had, he seized upon the little pet, and tying a string and stone about its neck, bore the dog to the large pond in the centre of the part, where he threw him into the deepest part. Charles at that moment came in sight, and at once saw the act. Without pausing to take off his clothes or any part of them, he sprang at once into the pond and dove down for the dog; but he found the stone about its neck too heavy for him to bring to the surface, though he struggled long and stoutly to do so before he yielded.

Swimming to the shore, Charles took his knife from his pocket, and once more dashed in; and this time diving down he cut the cord, and releasing the dog from the bottom swam with him to the opposite shore from where Robert stood, all the while threatening him. Here his younger brother smoothed the water from the dog’s coat, and instinctively rubbing its benumbed limbs until it became quite resuscitated, and after a short time, following close to Charles for protection, it returned to his mother’s side in her boudoir. But Robert had been there before him, and had already manufactured a story redounding to Charles’s discredit, and provoking both his mother’s and father’s anger, the latter of whom at Robert’s instance, even struck the gallant-hearted boy a severe blow with the flat of his hand as a punishment for what he denominated an interference with his brother’s sport.

Charles said nothing; he knew the prejudice which Robert’s constant misrepresentations had created against him in his parents’ breasts; he realized too, young as he was, that it was useless for him to attempt to explain, though he felt the injustice of this treatment; and so with a quivering lip he turned away from the scene and went in his wet clothes to the servants’ hall where he might dry them. He said nothing, but looked much sadder than usual as he stood there before the fire. A coarse but honest servant, Leonard Hust, who had been born on the estate, and whose father before him had been a servant in Sir Robert’s household, came stealthily to Charles’s side and busied himself in helping him to arrange his clothes and dry them, while he smoothed the boy’s hair and wiped his face.

“Never mind, master Charles,” said the honest fellow, noticing the trembling lips of the handsome boy; “never mind, it’s a gallant act in you, and though I say it, who shouldn’t, perhaps, master Robert never would have dared to do it; he hasn’t got half your courage and strength, though he’s bigger and older.”

A tear was all the answer that the boy vouchsafed to his honest effort at consolation. He too proud to make a confidant of the servant, or to confide to him of his father’s conduct, or even that of Robert. Leonard Hust watched the boy carefully, and entered keenly into his feelings, until at last he said:

“I wasn’t the only one who saw you save her ladyship’s pet, master Charles.”

“It wasn’t father or mother that saw it?” asked Charles, quickly, as he recalled the injustice he had just experienced at their hands, under Robert’s prompting.

“No, master Charles.”

“Was it cousin Helen?” continued the boy.

“Yes, master Charles,” answered Leonard Hust, with a knowing smile.

“O,” said the boy, as a glow of pleasure lit up his features for a moment.

It was evident that the knowledge of the said cousin Helen’s having seen his exertions to save the little favorite spaniel, gave Charles not a little satisfaction. Now cousin Helen—as a little blue-eyed child of eight years, the daughter of the family whose estate joined that of Bramble Park, was called—was no cousin at all, but the children had thus nicknamed each other, and they were most happy playmates together. Robert, who was three years his brother’s senior, was more fond of little Helen than of anybody else; indeed, in spite of his ill temper, he was wont to try and please her at any cost. But the child, who was as beautiful as a little fairy, did not respond at all to his advances of friendship, while to Charles she was all tenderness and confiding in