CHAPTER VI
THE COMBES OF THE FAR WEST
"Far, far from hence The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay Among the green Illyrian hills, and there The sunshine in the happy glens is fair, And by the sea and in the brakes The grass is cool, the sea-side air Buoyant and fresh, the mountain flowers More virginal and sweet than ours."
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
And even such are those delightful glens, which cut the high table-landof the confines of Devon and Cornwall, and opening each through itsgorge of down and rock, towards the boundless Western Ocean. Each islike the other, and each is like no other English scenery. Each has itsupright walls, inland of rich oak-wood, nearer the sea of dark greenfurze, then of smooth turf, then of weird black cliffs which range outright and left far into the deep sea, in castles, spires, and wingsof jagged iron-stone. Each has its narrow strip of fertile meadow, itscrystal trout stream winding across and across from one hill-foot to theother; its gray stone mill, with the water sparkling and humming roundthe dripping wheel; its dark, rock pools above the tide mark, where thesalmon-trout gather in from their Atlantic wanderings, after each autumnflood: its ridge of blown sand, bright with golden trefoil and crimsonlady's finger; its gray bank of polished pebbles, down which thestream rattles toward the sea below. Each has its black field of jaggedshark's-tooth rock which paves the cove from side to side, streaked withhere and there a pink line of shell sand, and laced with white foam fromthe eternal surge, stretching in parallel lines out to the westward,in strata set upright on edge, or tilted towards each other at strangeangles by primeval earthquakes;--such is the "mouth"--as those coves arecalled; and such the jaw of teeth which they display, one rasp of whichwould grind abroad the timbers of the stoutest ship. To landward,all richness, softness, and peace; to seaward, a waste and howlingwilderness of rock and roller, barren to the fisherman, and hopeless tothe shipwrecked mariner.
In only one of these "mouths" is a landing for boats, made possible bya long sea-wall of rock, which protects it from the rollers of theAtlantic; and that mouth is Marsland, the abode of the White Witch, LucyPassmore; whither, as Sir Richard Grenville rightly judged, the Jesuitswere gone. But before the Jesuits came, two other persons were standingon that lonely beach, under the bright October moon, namely, RoseSalterne and the White Witch herself; for Rose, fevered with curiosityand superstition, and allured by the very wildness and possible dangerof the spell, had kept her appointment; and, a few minutes beforemidnight, stood on the gray shingle beach with her counsellor.
"You be safe enough here to-night, miss. My old man is snoring soundabed, and there's no other soul ever sets foot here o' nights, exceptit be the mermaids now and then. Goodness, Father, where's our boat? Itought to be up here on the pebbles."
Rose pointed to a strip of sand some forty yards nearer the sea, wherethe boat lay.
"Oh, the lazy old villain! he's been round the rocks after pollock thisevening, and never taken the trouble to hale the boat up. I'll trouncehim for it when I get home. I only hope he's made her fast where she is,that's all! He's more plague to me than ever my money will be. O dearyme!"
And the goodwife bustled down toward the boat, with Rose behind her.
"Iss, 'tis fast, sure enough: and the oars aboard too! Well, I never!Oh, the lazy thief, to leave they here to be stole! I'll just sit in theboat, dear, and watch mun, while you go down to the say; for you mustbe all alone to yourself, you know, or you'll see nothing. There's thelooking-glass; now go, and dip your head three times, and mind you don'tlook to land or sea before you've said the words, and looked upon theglass. Now, be quick, it's just upon midnight."
And she coiled herself up in the boat, while Rose went faltering downthe strip of sand, some twenty yards farther, and there slipping off herclothes, stood shivering and trembling for a moment before she enteredthe sea.
She was between two walls of rock: that on her left hand, some twentyfeet high, hid her in deepest shade; that on her right, though muchlower, took the whole blaze of the midnight moon. Great festoons of liveand purple sea-weed hung from it, shading dark cracks and crevices, fithaunts for all the goblins of the sea. On her left hand, the peaks ofthe rock frowned down ghastly black; on her right hand, far aloft, thedowns slept bright and cold.
The breeze had died away; not even a roller broke the perfect stillnessof the cove. The gulls were all asleep upon the ledges. Over all was atrue autumn silence; a silence which may be heard. She stood awed, andlistened in hope of a sound which might tell her that any living thingbeside herself existed.
There was a faint bleat, as of a new-born lamb, high above her head;she started and looked up. Then a wail from the cliffs, as of a childin pain, answered by another from the opposite rocks. They were but thepassing snipe, and the otter calling to her brood; but to her theywere mysterious, supernatural goblins, come to answer to her call.Nevertheless, they only quickened her expectation; and the witch hadtold her not to fear them. If she performed the rite duly, nothingwould harm her: but she could hear the beating of her own heart, as shestepped, mirror in hand, into the cold water, waded hastily, as far asshe dare, and then stopped aghast.
A ring of flame was round her waist; every limb was bathed in lambentlight; all the multitudinous life of the autumn sea, stirred by herapproach, had flashed suddenly into glory;--
"And around her the lamps of the sea nymphs, Myriad fiery globes, swamheaving and panting, and rainbows, Crimson and azure and emerald, werebroken in star-showers, lighting Far through the wine-dark depths of thecrystal, the gardens of Nereus, Coral and sea-fan and tangle, the bloomsand the palms of the ocean."
She could see every shell which crawled on the white sand at her feet,every rock-fish which played in and out of the crannies, and stared ather with its broad bright eyes; while the great palmate oarweeds whichwaved along the chasm, half-seen in the glimmering water, seemed tobeckon her down with long brown hands to a grave amid their chillybowers. She turned to flee; but she had gone too far now to retreat;hastily dipping her head three times, she hurried out to the sea-marge,and looking through her dripping locks at the magic mirror, pronouncedthe incantation--
"A maiden pure, here I stand, Neither on sea, nor yet on land; Angels watch me on either hand. If you be landsman, come down the strand; If you be sailor, come up the sand; If you be angel, come from the sky, Look in my glass, and pass me by; Look in my glass, and go from the shore; Leave me, but love me for evermore."
The incantation was hardly finished, her eyes were straining into themirror, where, as may be supposed, nothing appeared but the sparkle ofthe drops from her own tresses, when she heard rattling down the pebblesthe hasty feet of men and horses.
She darted into a cavern of the high rock, and hastily dressed herself:the steps held on right to the boat. Peeping out, half-dead with terror,she saw there four men, two of whom had just leaped from their horses,and turning them adrift, began to help the other two in running the boatdown.
Whereon, out of the stern sheets, arose, like an angry ghost, the portlyfigure of Lucy Passmore, and shrieked in shrillest treble--
"Eh! ye villains, ye roogs, what do ye want staling poor folks' boats bynight like this?"
The whole party recoiled in terror, and one turned to run up the beach,shouting at the top of his voice, "'Tis a marmaiden--a marmaiden asleepin Willy Passmore's boat!"
"I wish it were any sich good luck," she could hear Will say; "'tis mywife, oh dear!" and he cowered down, expecting the hearty cuff which hereceived duly, as the White Witch, leaping out of the boat, dared anyman to touch it, and thundered to her husband to go home to bed.
The wily dame, as Rose well guessed, was keeping up this delay chieflyto gain time for her pupil: but she had also more solid reasons formaking the fight as hard as possible; for she, as well as Rose, hadalready discerned in the ungainly figure of one of the party the samesuspicious Welsh gentleman, on whose callin
g she had divined longago; and she was so loyal a subject as to hold in extreme horror herhusband's meddling with such "Popish skulkers" (as she called the wholeparty roundly to their face)--unless on consideration of a very handsomesum of money. In vain Parsons thundered, Campian entreated, Mr. Leigh'sgroom swore, and her husband danced round in an agony of mingled fearand covetousness.
"No," she cried, "as I am an honest woman and loyal! This is why youleft the boat down to the shoore, you old traitor, you, is it? To helpoff sich noxious trade as this out of the hands of her majesty's quorumand rotulorum? Eh? Stand back, cowards! Will you strike a woman?"
This last speech (as usual) was merely indicative of her intention tostrike the men; for, getting out one of the oars, she swung it round andround fiercely, and at last caught Father Parsons such a crack acrossthe shins, that he retreated with a howl.
"Lucy, Lucy!" shrieked her husband, in shrillest Devon falsetto, "be youmazed? Be you mazed, lass? They promised me two gold nobles before I'dlend them the boot!"
"Tu?" shrieked the matron, with a tone of ineffable scorn. "And do yucall yourself a man?"
"Tu nobles! tu nobles!" shrieked he again, hopping about at oar'slength.
"Tu? And would you sell your soul under ten?"
"Oh, if that is it," cried poor Campian, "give her ten, give herten, brother Pars--Morgans, I mean; and take care of your shins, OffaCerbero, you know--Oh, virago! Furens quid faemina possit! Certainly sheis some Lamia, some Gorgon, some--"
"Take that, for your Lamys and Gorgons to an honest woman!" and ina moment poor Campian's thin legs were cut from under him, while thevirago, "mounting on his trunk astride," like that more famous one onHudibras, cried, "Ten nobles, or I'll kep ye here till morning!" And theten nobles were paid into her hand.
And now the boat, its dragon guardian being pacified, was run down tothe sea, and close past the nook where poor little Rose was squeezingherself into the farthest and darkest corner, among wet sea-weed andrough barnacles, holding her breath as they approached.
They passed her, and the boat's keel was already in the water; Lucy hadfollowed them close, for reasons of her own, and perceiving close to thewater's edge a dark cavern, cunningly surmised that it contained Rose,and planted her ample person right across its mouth, while she grumbledat her husband, the strangers, and above all at Mr. Leigh's groom, towhom she prophesied pretty plainly Launceston gaol and the gallows;while the wretched serving-man, who would as soon have dared to leap offWelcombe Cliff as to return railing for railing to the White Witch, invain entreated her mercy, and tried, by all possible dodging, to keepone of the party between himself and her, lest her redoubted eye should"overlook" him once more to his ruin.
But the night's adventures were not ended yet; for just as the boat waslaunched, a faint halloo was heard upon the beach, and a minute after,a horseman plunged down the pebbles, and along the sand, and pulling hishorse up on its haunches close to the terrified group, dropped, ratherthan leaped, from the saddle.
The serving-man, though he dared not tackle a witch, knew well enoughhow to deal with a swordsman; and drawing, sprang upon the newcomer, andthen recoiled--
"God forgive me, it's Mr. Eustace! Oh, dear sir, I took you for one ofSir Richard's men! Oh, sir, you're hurt!"
"A scratch, a scratch!" almost moaned Eustace. "Help me into the boat,Jack. Gentlemen, I must with you."
"Not with us, surely, my dear son, vagabonds upon the face of theearth?" said kind-hearted Campian.
"With you, forever. All is over here. Whither God and the causelead"--and he staggered toward the boat.
As he passed Rose, she saw his ghastly bleeding face, half bound up witha handkerchief, which could not conceal the convulsions of rage, shame,and despair, which twisted it from all its usual beauty. His eyes glaredwildly round--and once, right into the cavern. They met hers, so full,and keen, and dreadful, that forgetting she was utterly invisible, theterrified girl was on the point of shrieking aloud.
"He has overlooked me!" said she, shuddering to herself, as sherecollected his threat of yesterday.
"Who has wounded you?" asked Campian.
"My cousin--Amyas--and taken the letter!"
"The devil take him, then!" cried Parsons, stamping up and down upon thesand in fury.
"Ay, curse him--you may! I dare not! He saved me--sent me here!"--andwith a groan, he made an effort to enter the boat.
"Oh, my dear young gentleman," cried Lucy Passmore, her woman's heartbursting out at the sight of pain, "you must not goo forth with a granewound like to that. Do ye let me just bind mun up--do ye now!" and sheadvanced.
Eustace thrust her back.
"No! better bear it, I deserve it--devils! I deserve it! On board, or weshall all be lost--William Cary is close behind me!"
And at that news the boat was thrust into the sea, faster than ever itwent before, and only in time; for it was but just round the rocks, andout of sight, when the rattle of Cary's horsehoofs was heard above.
"That rascal of Mr. Leigh's will catch it now, the Popish villain!" saidLucy Passmore, aloud. "You lie still there, dear life, and settle yoursperrits; you'm so safe as ever was rabbit to burrow. I'll see whathappens, if I die for it!" And so saying, she squeezed herself upthrough a cleft to a higher ledge, from whence she could see what passedin the valley.
"There mun is! in the meadow, trying to catch the horses! There comesMr. Cary! Goodness, Father, how a rid'th! he's over wall already! Ron,Jack! ron then! A'll get to the river! No, a wain't! Goodness, Father!There's Mr. Cary cotched mun! A's down, a's down!"
"Is he dead?" asked Rose, shuddering.
"Iss, fegs, dead as nits! and Mr. Cary off his horse, standingoverthwart mun! No, a bain't! A's up now. Suspose he was hit wi' theflat. Whatever is Mr. Cary tu? Telling wi' mun, a bit. Oh dear, dear,dear!"
"Has he killed him?" cried poor Rose.
"No, fegs, no! kecking mun, kecking mun, so hard as ever was futeball!Goodness, Father, who did ever? If a haven't kecked mun right intoriver, and got on mun's horse and rod away!"
And so saying, down she came again.
"And now then, my dear life, us be better to goo hoom and get you sommatwarm. You'm mortal cold, I rackon, by now. I was cruel fear'd for ye:but I kept mun off clever, didn't I, now?"
"I wish--I wish I had not seen Mr. Leigh's face!"
"Iss, dreadful, weren't it, poor young soul; a sad night for his poormother!"
"Lucy, I can't get his face out of my mind. I'm sure he overlooked me."
"Oh then! who ever heard the like o' that? When young gentlemen dooverlook young ladies, tain't thikketheor aways, I knoo. Never you thinkon it."
"But I can't help thinking of it," said Rose. "Stop. Shall we go homeyet? Where's that servant?"
"Never mind, he wain't see us, here under the hill. I'd much sooner toknow where my old man was. I've a sort of a forecasting in my inwards,like, as I always has when aught's gwain to happen, as though I shuldn'tzee mun again, like, I have, miss. Well--he was a bedient old soul,after all, he was. Goodness, Father! and all this while us have forgotthe very thing us come about! Who did you see?"
"Only that face!" said Rose, shuddering.
"Not in the glass, maid? Say then, not in the glass?"
"Would to heaven it had been! Lucy, what if he were the man I was fatedto--"
"He? Why, he's a praste, a Popish praste, that can't marry if he would,poor wratch."
"He is none; and I have cause enough to know it!" And, for want of abetter confidant, Rose poured into the willing ears of her companion thewhole story of yesterday's meeting.
"He's a pretty wooer!" said Lucy at last, contemptuously. "Be a bravemaid, then, be a brave maid, and never terrify yourself with his unluckyface. It's because there was none here worthy of ye, that ye seed nonein glass. Maybe he's to be a foreigner, from over seas, and that's whyhis sperit was so long a coming. A duke, or a prince to the least, I'llwarrant, he'll be, that carries off the Rose of Bideford."
But in spit
e of all the good dame's flattery, Rose could not wipe thatfierce face away from her eyeballs. She reached home safely, and creptto bed undiscovered: and when the next morning, as was to be expected,found her laid up with something very like a fever, from excitement,terror, and cold, the phantom grew stronger and stronger before her, andit required all her woman's tact and self-restraint to avoid betrayingby her exclamations what had happened on that fantastic night. After afortnight's weakness, however, she recovered and went back to Bideford:but ere she arrived there, Amyas was far across the seas on his way toMilford Haven, as shall be told in the ensuing chapters.
Westward Ho! Or, The Voyages and Adventures of Sir Amyas Leigh, Knight, of Burrough, in the County of Devon, in the Reign of Her Most Glorious Majesty Queen Elizabeth Page 6