The Pirate

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER VII.

  She does no work by halves, yon raving ocean; Engulfing those she strangles, her wild womb Affords the mariners whom she hath dealt on, Their death at once, and sepulchre.

  _Old Play._

  There were ten "lang Scots miles" betwixt Stourburgh and Jarlshof; andthough the pedestrian did not number all the impediments which crossedTam o' Shanter's path,--for in a country where there are neither hedgesnor stone enclosures, there can be neither "slaps nor stiles,"--yet thenumber and nature of the "mosses and waters" which he had to cross inhis peregrination, was fully sufficient to balance the account, and torender his journey as toilsome and dangerous as Tam o' Shanter'scelebrated retreat from Ayr. Neither witch nor warlock crossedMordaunt's path, however. The length of the day was alreadyconsiderable, and he arrived safe at Jarlshof by eleven o'clock atnight. All was still and dark round the mansion, and it was not till hehad whistled twice or thrice beneath Swertha's window, that she repliedto the signal.

  At the first sound, Swertha fell into an agreeable dream of a youngwhale-fisher, who some forty years before used to make such a signalbeneath the window of her hut; at the second, she waked to remember thatJohnnie Fea had slept sound among the frozen waves of Greenland for thismany a year, and that she was Mr. Mertoun's governante at Jarlshof; atthe third, she arose and opened the window.

  "Whae is that," she demanded, "at sic an hour of the night?"

  "It is I," said the youth.

  "And what for comena ye in? The door's on the latch, and there is agathering peat on the kitchen fire, and a spunk beside it--ye can lightyour ain candle."

  "All well," replied Mordaunt; "but I want to know how my father is?"

  "Just in his ordinary, gude gentleman--asking for you, Maister Mordaunt;ye are ower far and ower late in your walks, young gentleman."

  "Then the dark hour has passed, Swertha?"

  "In troth has it, Maister Mordaunt," answered the governante; "and yourfather is very reasonably good-natured for him, poor gentleman. I spaketo him twice yesterday without his speaking first; and the first time heanswered me as civil as you could do, and the neist time he bade me noplague him; and then, thought I, three times were aye canny, so I spaketo him again for luck's-sake, and he called me a chattering old devil;but it was quite and clean in a civil sort of way."

  "Enough, enough, Swertha," answered Mordaunt; "and now get up, and findme something to eat, for I have dined but poorly."

  "Then you have been at the new folk's at Stourburgh; for there is noanother house in a' the Isles but they wad hae gi'en ye the best shareof the best they had. Saw ye aught of Norna of the Fitful-head? She wentto Stourburgh this morning, and returned to the town at night."

  "Returned!--then she is here? How could she travel three leagues andbetter in so short a time?"

  "Wha kens how she travels?" replied Swertha; "but I heard her tell theRanzelman wi' my ain lugs, that she intended that day to have gone on toBurgh-Westra, to speak with Minna Troil, but she had seen that atStourburgh, (indeed she said at Harfra, for she never calls it by theother name of Stourburgh,) that sent her back to our town. But gang yourways round, and ye shall have plenty of supper--ours is nae toom pantry,and still less a locked ane, though my master be a stranger, and no justthat tight in the upper rigging, as the Ranzelman says."

  Mordaunt walked round to the kitchen accordingly, where Swertha's carespeedily accommodated him with a plentiful, though coarse meal, whichindemnified him for the scanty hospitality he had experienced atStourburgh.

  In the morning, some feelings of fatigue made young Mertoun later thanusual in leaving his bed; so that, contrary to what was the ordinarycase, he found his father in the apartment where they eat, and whichserved them indeed for every common purpose, save that of a bedchamberor of a kitchen. The son greeted the father in mute reverence, andwaited until he should address him.

  "You were absent yesterday, Mordaunt?" said his father. Mordaunt'sabsence had lasted a week and more; but he had often observed that hisfather never seemed to notice how time passed during the period when hewas affected with his sullen vapours. He assented to what the elder Mr.Mertoun had said.

  "And you were at Burgh-Westra, as I think?" continued his father.

  "Yes, sir," replied Mordaunt.

  The elder Mertoun was then silent for some time, and paced the floor indeep silence, with an air of sombre reflection, which seemed as if hewere about to relapse into his moody fit. Suddenly turning to his son,however, he observed, in the tone of a query, "Magnus Troil has twodaughters--they must be now young women; they are thought handsome, ofcourse?"

  "Very generally, sir," answered Mordaunt, rather surprised to hear hisfather making any enquiries about the individuals of a sex which heusually thought so light of, a surprise which was much increased by thenext question, put as abruptly as the former.

  "Which think you the handsomest?"

  "I, sir?" replied his son with some wonder, but withoutembarrassment--"I really am no judge--I never considered which wasabsolutely the handsomest. They are both very pretty young women."

  "You evade my question, Mordaunt; perhaps I have some very particularreason for my wish to be acquainted with your taste in this matter. I amnot used to waste words for no purpose. I ask you again, which of MagnusTroil's daughters you think most handsome?"

  "Really, sir," replied Mordaunt--"but you only jest in asking me such aquestion."

  "Young man," replied Mertoun, with eyes which began to roll and sparklewith impatience, "I _never_ jest. I desire an answer to my question."

  "Then, upon my word, sir," said Mordaunt, "it is not in my power to forma judgment betwixt the young ladies--they are both very pretty, but byno means like each other. Minna is dark-haired, and more grave than hersister--more serious, but by no means either dull or sullen."

  "Um," replied his father; "you have been gravely brought up, and thisMinna, I suppose, pleases you most?"

  "No, sir, really I can give her no preference over her sister Brenda,who is as gay as a lamb in a spring morning--less tall than her sister,but so well formed, and so excellent a dancer"----

  "That she is best qualified to amuse the young man, who has a dull homeand a moody father?" said Mr. Mertoun.

  Nothing in his father's conduct had ever surprised Mordaunt so much asthe obstinacy with which he seemed to pursue a theme so foreign to hisgeneral train of thought, and habits of conversation but he contentedhimself with answering once more, "that both the young ladies werehighly admirable, but he had never thought of them with the wish to doeither injustice, by ranking her lower than her sister--that otherswould probably decide between them, as they happened to be partial to agrave or a gay disposition, or to a dark or fair complexion but that hecould see no excellent quality in the one that was not balanced bysomething equally captivating in the other."

  It is possible that even the coolness with which Mordaunt made thisexplanation might not have satisfied his father concerning the subjectof investigation but Swertha at this moment entered with breakfast, andthe youth, notwithstanding his late supper, engaged in that meal with anair which satisfied Mertoun that he held it matter of more graveimportance than the conversation which they had just had, and that hehad nothing more to say upon the subject explanatory of the answers hehad already given. He shaded his brow with his hand, and looked longfixedly upon the young man as he was busied with his morning meal. Therewas neither abstraction nor a sense of being observed in any of hismotions; all was frank, natural, and open.

  "He is fancy-free," muttered Mertoun to himself--"so young, so lively,and so imaginative, so handsome and so attractive in face and person,strange, that at his age, and in his circumstances, he should haveavoided the meshes which catch all the world beside!"

  When the breakfast was over, the elder Mertoun, instead of proposing, asusual, that his son, who awaited his commands, should betake himself toone branch or other of his studies, assumed his hat and
staff, anddesired that Mordaunt should accompany him to the top of the cliff,called Sumburgh-head, and from thence look out upon the state of theocean, agitated as it must still be by the tempest of the preceding day.Mordaunt was at the age when young men willingly exchange sedentarypursuits for active exercise, and started up with alacrity to complywith his father's desire; and in the course of a few minutes they weremounting together the hill, which, ascending from the land side in along, steep, and grassy slope, sinks at once from the summit to the seain an abrupt and tremendous precipice.

  The day was delightful; there was just so much motion in the air as todisturb the little fleecy clouds which were scattered on the horizon,and by floating them occasionally over the sun, to chequer the landscapewith that variety of light and shade which often gives to a bare andunenclosed scene, for the time at least, a species of charm approachingto the varieties of a cultivated and planted country. A thousandflitting hues of light and shade played over the expanse of wild moor,rocks, and inlets, which, as they climbed higher and higher, spread inwide and wider circuit around them.

  The elder Mertoun often paused and looked round upon the scene, and forsome time his son supposed that he halted to enjoy its beauties; but asthey ascended still higher up the hill, he remarked his shortened breathand his uncertain and toilsome step, and became assured, with somefeelings of alarm, that his father's strength was, for the moment,exhausted, and that he found the ascent more toilsome and fatiguing thanusual. To draw close to his side, and offer him in silence theassistance of his arm, was an act of youthful deference to advanced age,as well as of filial reverence; and Mertoun seemed at first so toreceive it, for he took in silence the advantage of the aid thusafforded him.

  It was but for two or three minutes, however, that the father availedhimself of his son's support. They had not ascended fifty yards farther,ere he pushed Mordaunt suddenly, if not rudely, from him; and, as ifstung into exertion by some sudden recollection, began to mount theacclivity with such long and quick steps, that Mordaunt, in his turn,was obliged to exert himself to keep pace with him. He knew his father'speculiarity of disposition he was aware from many slight circumstances,that he loved him not even while he took much pains with his education,and while he seemed to be the sole object of his care upon earth. Butthe conviction had never been more strongly or more powerfully forcedupon him than by the hasty churlishness with which Mertoun rejected froma son that assistance, which most elderly men are willing to receivefrom youths with whom they are but slightly connected, as a tributewhich it is alike graceful to yield and pleasing to receive. Mertoun,however, did not seem to perceive the effect which his unkindness hadproduced upon his son's feelings. He paused upon a sort of level terracewhich they had now attained, and addressed his son with an indifferenttone, which seemed in some degree affected.

  "Since you have so few inducements, Mordaunt, to remain in these wildislands, I suppose you sometimes wish to look a little more abroad intothe world?"

  "By my word, sir," replied Mordaunt, "I cannot say I ever have a thoughton such a subject."

  "And why not, young man?" demanded his father; "it were but natural, Ithink, at your age. At your age, the fair and varied breadth of Britaincould not gratify me, much less the compass of a sea-girdled peat-moss."

  "I have never thought of leaving Zetland, sir," replied the son. "I amhappy here, and have friends. You yourself, sir, would miss me, unlessindeed"----

  "Why, thou wouldst not persuade me," said his father, somewhat hastily,"that you stay here, or desire to stay here, for the love of me?"

  "Why should I not, sir?" answered Mordaunt, mildly; "it is my duty, andI hope I have hitherto performed it."

  "O ay," repeated Mertoun, in the same tone--"your duty--your duty. So itis the duty of the dog to follow the groom that feeds him."

  "And does he not do so, sir?" said Mordaunt.

  "Ay," said his father, turning his head aside: "but he fawns only onthose who caress him."

  "I hope, sir," replied Mordaunt, "I have not been found deficient?"

  "Say no more on't--say no more on't," said Mertoun, abruptly, "we haveboth done enough by each other--we must soon part--Let that be ourcomfort--if our separation should require comfort."

  "I shall be ready to obey your wishes," said Mordaunt, not altogetherdispleased at what promised him an opportunity of looking farther abroadinto the world. "I presume it will be your pleasure that I commence mytravels with a season at the whale-fishing."

  "Whale-fishing!" replied Mertoun; "that were a mode indeed of seeing theworld! but thou speakest but as thou hast learned. Enough of this forthe present. Tell me where you had shelter from the storm yesterday?"

  "At Stourburgh, the house of the new factor from Scotland."

  "A pedantic, fantastic, visionary schemer," said Mertoun--"and whom sawyou there?"

  "His sister, sir," replied Mordaunt, "and old Norna of the Fitful-head."

  "What! the mistress of the potent spell," answered Mertoun, with asneer--"she who can change the wind by pulling her curch on one side, asKing Erick used to do by turning his cap? The dame journeys far fromhome--how fares she? Does she get rich by selling favourable winds tothose who are port-bound?"[30]

  "I really do not know, sir," said Mordaunt, whom certain recollectionsprevented from freely entering into his father's humour.

  "You think the matter too serious to be jested with, or perhaps esteemher merchandise too light to be cared after," continued Mertoun, in thesame sarcastic tone, which was the nearest approach he ever made tocheerfulness; "but consider it more deeply. Every thing in the universeis bought and sold, and why not wind, if the merchant can findpurchasers? The earth is rented, from its surface down to its mostcentral mines;--the fire, and the means of feeding it, are currentlybought and sold;--the wretches that sweep the boisterous ocean withtheir nets, pay ransom for the privilege of being drowned in it. Whattitle has the air to be exempted from the universal course of traffic?All above the earth, under the earth, and around the earth, has itsprice, its sellers, and its purchasers. In many countries the priestswill sell you a portion of heaven--in all countries men are willing tobuy, in exchange for health, wealth, and peace of conscience, a fullallowance of hell. Why should not Norna pursue her traffic?"

  "Nay, I know no reason against it," replied Mordaunt; "only I wish shewould part with the commodity in smaller quantities. Yesterday she was awholesale dealer--whoever treated with her had too good a pennyworth."

  "It is even so," said his father, pausing on the verge of the wildpromontory which they had attained, where the huge precipice sinksabruptly down on the wide and tempestuous ocean, "and the effects arestill visible."

  The face of that lofty cape is composed of the soft and crumbling stonecalled sand-flag, which gradually becomes decomposed, and yields to theaction of the atmosphere, and is split into large masses, that hangloose upon the verge of the precipice, and, detached from it by theviolence of the tempests, often descend with great fury into the vexedabyss which lashes the foot of the rock. Numbers of these huge fragmentslie strewed beneath the rocks from which they have fallen, and amongstthese the tide foams and rages with a fury peculiar to those latitudes.

  At the period when Mertoun and his son looked from the verge of theprecipice, the wide sea still heaved and swelled with the agitation ofyesterday's storm, which had been far too violent in its effects on theocean to subside speedily. The tide therefore poured on the headlandwith a fury deafening to the ear, and dizzying to the eye, threateninginstant destruction to whatever might be at the time involved in itscurrent. The sight of Nature, in her magnificence, or in her beauty, orin her terrors, has at all times an overpowering interest, which evenhabit cannot greatly weaken; and both father and son sat themselves downon the cliff to look out upon that unbounded war of waters, which rolledin their wrath to the foot of the precipice.

  At once Mordaunt, whose eyes were sharper, and probably his attentionmore alert, than that of his father, started up, and exclai
med, "God inHeaven! there is a vessel in the Roost!"

  Mertoun looked to the north-westward, and an object was visible amid therolling tide. "She shows no sail," he observed; and immediately added,after looking at the object through his spy-glass, "She is dismasted,and lies a sheer hulk upon the water."

  "And is drifting on the Sumburgh-head," exclaimed Mordaunt, struck withhorror, "without the slightest means of weathering the cape!"

  "She makes no effort," answered his father; "she is probably deserted byher crew."

  "And in such a day as yesterday," replied Mordaunt, "when no open boatcould live were she manned with the best men ever handled an oar--allmust have perished."

  "It is most probable," said his father, with stern composure; "and oneday, sooner or later, all must have perished. What signifies whether thefowler, whom nothing escapes, caught them up at one swoop from yondershattered deck, or whether he clutched them individually, as chance gavethem to his grasp? What signifies it?--the deck, the battlefield, arescarce more fatal to us than our table and our bed; and we are savedfrom the one, merely to drag out a heartless and wearisome existence,till we perish at the other. Would the hour were come--that hour whichreason would teach us to wish for, were it not that nature has implantedthe fear of it so strongly within us! You wonder at such a reflection,because life is yet new to you. Ere you have attained my age, it will bethe familiar companion of your thoughts."

  "Surely, sir," replied Mordaunt, "such distaste to life is not thenecessary consequence of advanced age?"

  "To all who have sense to estimate that which it is really worth," saidMertoun. "Those who, like Magnus Troil, possess so much of the animalimpulses about them, as to derive pleasure from sensual gratification,may perhaps, like the animals, feel pleasure in mere existence."

  Mordaunt liked neither the doctrine nor the example. He thought a manwho discharged his duties towards others as well as the good oldUdaller, had a better right to have the sun shine fair on his setting,than that which he might derive from mere insensibility. But he let thesubject drop; for to dispute with his father, had always the effect ofirritating him; and again he adverted to the condition of the wreck.

  The hulk, for it was little better, was now in the very midst of thecurrent, and drifting at a great rate towards the foot of the precipice,upon whose verge they were placed. Yet it was a long while ere they hada distinct view of the object which they had at first seen as a blackspeck amongst the waters, and then, at a nearer distance, like a whale,which now scarce shows its back-fin above the waves, now throws to viewits large black side. Now, however, they could more distinctly observethe appearance of the ship, for the huge swelling waves which bore herforward to the shore, heaved her alternately high upon the surface, andthen plunged her into the trough or furrow of the sea. She seemed avessel of two or three hundred tons, fitted up for defence, for theycould see her port-holes. She had been dismasted probably in the gale ofthe preceding day, and lay water-logged on the waves, a prey to theirviolence. It appeared certain, that the crew, finding themselves unableeither to direct the vessel's course, or to relieve her by pumping, hadtaken to their boats, and left her to her fate. All apprehensions weretherefore unnecessary, so far as the immediate loss of human lives wasconcerned; and yet it was not without a feeling of breathless awe thatMordaunt and his father beheld the vessel--that rare masterpiece bywhich human genius aspires to surmount the waves, and contend with thewinds, upon the point of falling a prey to them.

  Onward she came, the large black hulk seeming larger at every fathom'slength. She came nearer, until she bestrode the summit of one tremendousbillow, which rolled on with her unbroken, till the wave and its burdenwere precipitated against the rock, and then the triumph of the elementsover the work of human hands was at once completed. One wave, we havesaid, made the wrecked vessel completely manifest in her whole bulk, asit raised her, and bore her onward against the face of the precipice.But when that wave receded from the foot of the rock, the ship hadceased to exist; and the retiring billow only bore back a quantity ofbeams, planks, casks, and similar objects, which swept out to theoffing, to be brought in again by the next wave, and again precipitatedupon the face of the rock.

  It was at this moment that Mordaunt conceived he saw a man floating on aplank or water-cask, which, drifting away from the main current, seemedabout to go ashore upon a small spot of sand, where the water wasshallow, and the waves broke more smoothly. To see the danger, and toexclaim, "He lives, and may yet be saved!" was the first impulse of thefearless Mordaunt. The next was, after one rapid glance at the front ofthe cliff, to precipitate himself--such seemed the rapidity of hismovement--from the verge, and to commence, by means of slight fissures,projections, and crevices in the rock, a descent, which, to a spectator,appeared little else than an act of absolute insanity.

  "Stop, I command you, rash boy!" said his father; "the attempt is death.Stop, and take the safer path to the left." But Mordaunt was alreadycompletely engaged in his perilous enterprise.

  "Why should I prevent him?" said his father, checking his anxiety withthe stern and unfeeling philosophy whose principles he had adopted."Should he die now, full of generous and high feeling, eager in thecause of humanity, happy in the exertion of his own conscious activity,and youthful strength--should he die now, will he not escapemisanthropy, and remorse, and age, and the consciousness of decayingpowers, both of body and mind?--I will not look upon it however--I willnot--I cannot behold his young light so suddenly quenched."

  He turned from the precipice accordingly, and hastening to the left formore than a quarter of a mile, he proceeded towards a _riva_, or cleftin the rock, containing a path, called Erick's Steps, neither safe,indeed, nor easy, but the only one by which the inhabitants of Jarlshofwere wont, for any purpose, to seek access to the foot of the precipice.

  But long ere Mertoun had reached even the upper end of the pass, hisadventurous and active son had accomplished his more desperateenterprise. He had been in vain turned aside from the direct line ofdescent, by the intervention of difficulties which he had not seen fromabove--his route became only more circuitous, but could not beinterrupted. More than once, large fragments to which he was about tointrust his weight, gave way before him, and thundered down into thetormented ocean; and in one or two instances, such detached pieces ofrock rushed after him, as if to bear him headlong in their course. Acourageous heart, a steady eye, a tenacious hand, and a firm foot,carried him through his desperate attempt; and in the space of sevenminutes, he stood at the bottom of the cliff, from the verge of whichhe had achieved his perilous descent.

  The place which he now occupied was the small projecting spot of stones,sand, and gravel, that extended a little way into the sea, which on theright hand lashed the very bottom of the precipice, and on the left, wasscarce divided from it by a small wave-worn portion of beach thatextended as far as the foot of the rent in the rocks called Erick'sSteps, by which Mordaunt's father proposed to descend.

  When the vessel split and went to pieces, all was swallowed up in theocean, which had, after the first shock, been seen to float upon thewaves, excepting only a few pieces of wreck, casks, chests, and thelike, which a strong eddy, formed by the reflux of the waves, hadlanded, or at least grounded, upon the shallow where Mordaunt now stood.Amongst these, his eager eye discovered the object that had at firstengaged his attention, and which now, seen at nigher distance, proved tobe in truth a man, and in a most precarious state. His arms were stillwrapt with a close and convulsive grasp round the plank to which he hadclung in the moment of the shock, but sense and the power of motion werefled; and, from the situation in which the plank lay, partly groundedupon the beach, partly floating in the sea, there was every chance thatit might be again washed off shore, in which case death was inevitable.Just as he had made himself aware of these circumstances, Mordauntbeheld a huge wave advancing, and hastened to interpose his aid ere itburst, aware that the reflux might probably sweep away the sufferer.

  He rushed into th
e surf, and fastened on the body, with the sametenacity, though under a different impulse, with that wherewith thehound seizes his prey. The strength of the retiring wave proved evengreater than he had expected, and it was not without a struggle for hisown life, as well as for that of the stranger, that Mordaunt resistedbeing swept off with the receding billow, when, though an adroitswimmer, the strength of the tide must either have dashed him againstthe rocks, or hurried him out to sea. He stood his ground, however, andere another such billow had returned, he drew up, upon the small slip ofdry sand, both the body of the stranger, and the plank to which hecontinued firmly attached. But how to save and to recall the means ofebbing life and strength, and how to remove into a place of greatersafety the sufferer, who was incapable of giving any assistance towardshis own preservation, were questions which Mordaunt asked himselfeagerly, but in vain.

  He looked to the summit of the cliff on which he had left his father,and shouted to him for his assistance; but his eye could not distinguishhis form, and his voice was only answered by the scream of thesea-birds. He gazed again on the sufferer. A dress richly laced,according to the fashion of the times, fine linen, and rings upon hisfingers, evinced he was a man of superior rank; and his features showedyouth and comeliness, notwithstanding they were pallid and disfigured.He still breathed, but so feebly, that his respiration was almostimperceptible, and life seemed to keep such slight hold of his frame,that there was every reason to fear it would become altogetherextinguished, unless it were speedily reinforced. To loosen thehandkerchief from his neck, to raise him with his face towards thebreeze, to support him with his arms, was all that Mordaunt could do forhis assistance, whilst he anxiously looked for some one who might lendhis aid in dragging the unfortunate to a more safe situation.

  At this moment he beheld a man advancing slowly and cautiously along thebeach. He was in hopes, at first, it was his father, but instantlyrecollected that he had not had time to come round by the circuitousdescent, to which he must necessarily have recourse, and besides, he sawthat the man who approached him was shorter in stature.

  As he came nearer, Mordaunt was at no loss to recognise the pedlar whomthe day before he had met with at Harfra, and who was known to himbefore upon many occasions. He shouted as loud as he could, "Bryce,hollo! Bryce, come hither!" But the merchant, intent upon picking upsome of the spoils of the wreck, and upon dragging them out of reach ofthe tide, paid for some time little attention to his shouts.

  When he did at length approach Mordaunt, it was not to lend him his aid,but to remonstrate with him on his rashness in undertaking thecharitable office. "Are you mad?" said he; "you that have lived sae langin Zetland, to risk the saving of a drowning man? Wot ye not, if youbring him to life again, he will be sure to do you some capitalinjury?[31]--Come, Master Mordaunt, bear a hand to what's mair to thepurpose. Help me to get ane or twa of these kists ashore before any bodyelse comes, and we shall share, like good Christians, what God sends us,and be thankful."

  Mordaunt was indeed no stranger to this inhuman superstition, current ata former period among the lower orders of the Zetlanders, and the moregenerally adopted, perhaps, that it served as an apology for refusingassistance to the unfortunate victims of shipwreck, while they madeplunder of their goods. At any rate, the opinion, that to save adrowning man was to run the risk of future injury from him, formed astrange contradiction in the character of these islanders; who,hospitable, generous, and disinterested, on all other occasions, weresometimes, nevertheless, induced by this superstition, to refuse theiraid in those mortal emergencies, which were so common upon their rockyand stormy coasts. We are happy to add, that the exhortation and exampleof the proprietors have eradicated even the traces of this inhumanbelief, of which there might be some observed within the memory of thosenow alive. It is strange that the minds of men should have ever beenhardened towards those involved in a distress to which they themselveswere so constantly exposed; but perhaps the frequent sight andconsciousness of such danger tends to blunt the feelings to itsconsequences, whether affecting ourselves or others.

  Bryce was remarkably tenacious of this ancient belief; the more so,perhaps, that the mounting of his pack depended less upon the warehousesof Lerwick or Kirkwall, than on the consequences of such a north-westerngale as that of the day preceding; for which (being a man who, in hisown way, professed great devotion) he seldom failed to express hisgrateful thanks to Heaven. It was indeed said of him, that if he hadspent the same time in assisting the wrecked seamen, which he hademployed in rifling their bales and boxes, he would have saved manylives, and lost much linen. He paid no sort of attention to therepeated entreaties of Mordaunt, although he was now upon the same slipof sand with him. It was well known to Bryce as a place on which theeddy was likely to land such spoils as the ocean disgorged; and toimprove the favourable moment, he occupied himself exclusively insecuring and appropriating whatever seemed most portable and of greatestvalue. At length Mordaunt saw the honest pedlar fix his views upon astrong sea-chest, framed of some Indian wood, well secured by brassplates, and seeming to be of a foreign construction. The stout lockresisted all Bryce's efforts to open it, until, with great composure, heplucked from his pocket a very neat hammer and chisel, and began forcingthe hinges.

  Incensed beyond patience at his assurance, Mordaunt caught up a woodenstretcher which lay near him, and laying his charge softly on the sand,approached Bryce with a menacing gesture, and exclaimed, "Youcold-blooded, inhuman rascal! either get up instantly and lend me yourassistance to recover this man, and bear him out of danger from thesurf, or I will not only beat you to a mummy on the spot, but informMagnus Troil of your thievery, that he may have you flogged till yourbones are bare, and then banish you from the Mainland!"

  The lid of the chest had just sprung open as this rough address salutedBryce's ears, and the inside presented a tempting view of wearingapparel for sea and land; shirts, plain and with lace ruffles, a silvercompass, a silver-hilted sword, and other valuable articles, which thepedlar well knew to be such as stir in the trade. He was half-disposedto start up, draw the sword, which was a cut-and-thrust, and "darraignbattaile," as Spenser says, rather than quit his prize, or brookinterruption. Being, though short, a stout square-made personage, andnot much past the prime of life, having besides the better weapon, hemight have given Mordaunt more trouble than his benevolentknight-errantry deserved.

  Already, as with vehemence he repeated his injunctions that Bryce shouldforbear his plunder, and come to the assistance of the dying man, thepedlar retorted with a voice of defiance, "Dinna swear, sir; dinnaswear, sir--I will endure no swearing in my presence; and if you lay afinger on me, that am taking the lawful spoil of the Egyptians, I willgive ye a lesson ye shall remember from this day to Yule!"

  Mordaunt would speedily have put the pedlar's courage to the test, but avoice behind him suddenly said, "Forbear!" It was the voice of Norna ofthe Fitful-head, who, during the heat of their altercation, hadapproached them unobserved. "Forbear!" she repeated; "and, Bryce, dothou render Mordaunt the assistance he requires. It shall avail theemore, and it is I who say the word, than all that you could earn to-daybesides."

  "It is se'enteen hundred linen," said the pedlar, giving a tweak to oneof the shirts, in that knowing manner with which matrons and judgesascertain the texture of the loom;--"it's se'enteen hundred linen, andas strong as an it were dowlas. Nevertheless, mother, your bidding is tobe done; and I would have done Mr. Mordaunt's bidding too," he added,relaxing from his note of defiance into the deferential whining tonewith which he cajoled his customers, "if he hadna made use of profaneoaths, which made my very flesh grew, and caused me, in some sort, toforget myself." He then took a flask from his pocket, and approachedthe shipwrecked man. "It's the best of brandy," he said; "and if thatdoesna cure him, I ken nought that will." So saying, he took apreliminary gulp himself, as if to show the quality of the liquor, andwas about to put it to the man's mouth, when, suddenly withholding hishand, he looked at Norna--"You ensure me again
st all risk of evil fromhim, if I am to render him my help?--Ye ken yoursell what folk say,mother."

  For all other answer, Norna took the bottle from the pedlar's hand, andbegan to chafe the temples and throat of the shipwrecked man; directingMordaunt how to hold his head, so as to afford him the means ofdisgorging the sea-water which he had swallowed during his immersion.

  The pedlar looked on inactive for a moment, and then said, "To be sure,there is not the same risk in helping him, now he is out of the water,and lying high and dry on the beach; and, to be sure, the principaldanger is to those that first touch him; and, to be sure, it is aworld's pity to see how these rings are pinching the puir creature'sswalled fingers--they make his hand as blue as a partan's back beforeboiling." So saying, he seized one of the man's cold hands, which hadjust, by a tremulous motion, indicated the return of life, and began hischaritable work of removing the rings, which seemed to be of some value.

  "As you love your life, forbear," said Norna, sternly, "or I will laythat on you which shall spoil your travels through the isles."

  "Now, for mercy's sake, mother, say nae mair about it," said the pedlar,"and I'll e'en do your pleasure in your ain way! I _did_ feel arheumatize in my back-spauld yestreen; and it wad be a sair thing forthe like of me to be debarred my quiet walk round the country, in theway of trade--making the honest penny, and helping myself with whatProvidence sends on our coasts."

  "Peace, then," said the woman--"Peace, as thou wouldst not rue it; andtake this man on thy broad shoulders. His life is of value, and you willbe rewarded."

  "I had muckle need," said the pedlar, pensively looking at the lidlesschest, and the other matters which strewed the sand; "for he has comebetween me and as muckle spreacherie as wad hae made a man of me for therest of my life; and now it maun lie here till the next tide sweep it a'doun the Roost, after them that aught it yesterday morning."

  "Fear not," said Norna, "it will come to man's use. See, there comecarrion-crows, of scent as keen as thine own."

  She spoke truly; for several of the people from the hamlet of Jarlshofwere now hastening along the beach, to have their share in the spoil.The pedlar beheld them approach with a deep groan. "Ay, ay," he said,"the folk of Jarlshof, they will make clean wark; they are kend for thatfar and wide; they winna leave the value of a rotten ratlin; and what'swaur, there isna ane o' them has mense or sense eneugh to give thanksfor the mercies when they have gotten them. There is the auld Ranzelman,Neil Ronaldson, that canna walk a mile to hear the minister, but he willhirple ten if he hears of a ship embayed."

  Norna, however, seemed to possess over him so complete an ascendency,that he no longer hesitated to take the man, who now gave strongsymptoms of reviving existence, upon his shoulders; and, assisted byMordaunt, trudged along the sea-beach with his burden, without fartherremonstrance. Ere he was borne off, the stranger pointed to the chest,and attempted to mutter something, to which Norna replied, "Enough. Itshall be secured."

  Advancing towards the passage called Erick's Steps, by which they wereto ascend the cliffs, they met the people from Jarlshof hastening in theopposite direction. Man and woman, as they passed, reverently made roomfor Norna, and saluted her--not without an expression of fear upon someof their faces. She passed them a few paces, and then turning back,called aloud to the Ranzelman, who (though the practice was more commonthan legal) was attending the rest of the hamlet upon this plunderingexpedition. "Neil Ronaldson," she said, "mark my words. There standsyonder a chest, from which the lid has been just prized off. Look it bebrought down to your own house at Jarlshof, just as it now is. Beware ofmoving or touching the slightest article. He were better in his gravethat so much as looks at the contents. I speak not for nought, nor inaught will I be disobeyed."

  "Your pleasure shall be done, mother," said Ronaldson. "I warrant wewill not break bulk, since sic is your bidding."

  Far behind the rest of the villagers, followed an old woman, talking toherself, and cursing her own decrepitude, which kept her the last of theparty, yet pressing forward with all her might to get her share of thespoil.

  When they met her, Mordaunt was astonished to recognise his father's oldhousekeeper. "How now," he said, "Swertha, what make you so far fromhome?"

  "Just e'en daikering out to look after my auld master and your honour,"replied Swertha, who felt like a criminal caught in the manner; for onmore occasions than one, Mr. Mertoun had intimated his highdisapprobation of such excursions as she was at present engaged in.

  But Mordaunt was too much engaged with his own thoughts to take muchnotice of her delinquency. "Have you seen my father?" he said.

  "And that I have," replied Swertha--"The gude gentleman was ganging tohirsel himsell doun Erick's Steps, whilk would have been the ending ofhim, that is in no way a cragsman. Sae I e'en gat him wiled awayhame--and I was just seeking you that you may gang after him to thehall-house, for to my thought he is far frae weel."

  "My father unwell?" said Mordaunt, remembering the faintness he hadexhibited at the commencement of that morning's walk.

  "Far frae weel--far frae weel," groaned out Swertha, with a piteousshake of the head--"white o' the gills--white o' the gills--and him tothink of coming down the riva!"

  "Return home, Mordaunt," said Norna, who was listening to what hadpassed. "I will see all that is necessary done for this man's relief,and you will find him at the Ranzelman's, when you list to enquire. Youcannot help him more than you already have done."

  Mordaunt felt this was true, and, commanding Swertha to follow himinstantly, betook himself to the path homeward.

  Swertha hobbled reluctantly after her young master in the samedirection, until she lost sight of him on his entering the cleft of therock; then instantly turned about, muttering to herself, "Haste home, ingood sooth?--haste home, and lose the best chance of getting a newrokelay and owerlay that I have had these ten years? by my certie,na--It's seldom sic rich godsends come on our shore--no since the Jennyand James came ashore in King Charlie's time."

  So saying, she mended her pace as well as she could, and, a willing mindmaking amends for frail limbs, posted on with wonderful dispatch to putin for her share of the spoil. She soon reached the beach, where theRanzelman, stuffing his own pouches all the while, was exhorting therest to part things fair, and be neighbourly, and to give to the auldand helpless a share of what was going, which, he charitably remarked,would bring a blessing on the shore, and send them "mair wrecks erewinter."[32]

  FOOTNOTES:

  [30] Note III.--Sale of Winds.

  [31] Note IV.--Reluctance to Save Drowning Men.

  [32] Note V.--Mair Wrecks ere Winter.