Chapter Seven.

Chapter Seven.Ellen and her father, with Captain O’Brien, watch the Champion and Coquille from Portala Head—The fight—The ships disappear in the distance—Return to Waterford—News of the capture of O’Harrall—Ellen’s anxieties—Gerald sent to Mrs Massey—During the widow’s absence Owen receives a visit from O’Harrall—Conceals him—The pursuers come to the cottage—The widow’s alarm—Owen enables O’Harrall to escape.The worthy captain had not handled a pair of oars for many a year, but he seized the sculls and pulled away lustily towards the western side of the harbour. As to rowing up it against the strong tide then running out, that, he saw, was hopeless, Mr Ferris being no oarsman. TheCoquille’ssails were let fall, and the men in the boats giving way, she in a short time was clear of the harbour, and was seen to stand close-hauled towards the south-west, the tide being in her favour. The stranger had by this time made her out, and was steering on the opposite tack towards the harbour’s mouth. Being far to leeward, there appeared but little chance, unless the breeze should freshen, of the two ships meeting.“I only hope they may,” said the captain, as he tugged away at the oars. “Thurot is a fine fellow, no doubt about that; but he deserves to be punished for his impudence, and if theChampiongets alongside him, he’ll find that he’s caught a Tartar. Olding isn’t the man to part company with an enemy till she strikes, or one or the other goes to the bottom. His officers are like him, I hear, and I shouldn’t be astonished to see theCoquillebrought in a prize before many hours are over.”Ellen looked pale and anxious while the captain was speaking.“We knew Mr Foley, the second lieutenant of theChampion, very well in Dublin, when she lay at Kingstown,” observed Mr Ferris—“a fine young fellow. I am sure also that you have described Captain Olding truly.”The captain was all the time pulling away with might and main, now looking ahead to judge of the direction to take, and now watching the two ships.“Thurot hasn’t calculated on getting becalmed under the land; if he does that, he’ll find theChampionsoon walk up to him,” he observed. “Pulling is harder work than I thought for, or my arms have grown stiffer than they used to be. The sooner we can get on shore the better, and we can wait there till the tide turns, when perhaps we shall find some hooker running up to Waterford which will take us in tow. I’ll pull in for Portala Bay, which you see just inside Red Head.”“As you please,” said Mr Ferris. “By climbing to the top of the Head we shall, I fancy, be able to watch the proceedings of the two ships.”The captain pulling on, the boat soon reached a small bay just to the northward of a headland at the western side of the entrance of Waterford harbour. Ellen was eager at once to climb to the summit of the height. The captain and Mr Ferris having drawn up the boat, they set off, and were not long in gaining it. From thence they could command a view of the whole coast of Waterford as far as Youghal Bay, towards which theCoquillewas standing. Her boats had been hoisted up, but she was still, even with a favourable tide, making but slow progress. The ship to the eastward had now come completely into view. The captain took a steady look at her.“She is a sloop of war—I thought so from the first,” he exclaimed, “and from the cut of her canvas I have little doubt that she is English.”As he spoke, the stranger’s ensign blew out from her peak.“Yes, I knew I was right—she is theChampion, depend on it. If the breeze favours her, far as she is to leeward, she’ll be up to Captain Thurot before noon,” he continued. “If she once gets him within range of her guns, she’ll not let him go till he cries peccavi.”Ellen was seated on a rock which formed the highest part of the headland. Even under ordinary circumstances she would have watched the two vessels with much interest, but the intensity of her feelings may be supposed, as she thought of one who was on board the British ship; for although the gallant lieutenant had not yet spoken, she fully believed that he had given her his heart, and she could not avoid confessing to herself that she had bestowed hers in return. In a few short hours he might be engaged in a deadly strife with a ship equal in size and the number of her crew to theChampion; and though she could not doubt that the British would come off victorious, yet she well knew the risk to which each of her gallant crew would be exposed. TheChampionhad stood within a mile of the mouth of the harbour, when she tacked and steered for the French ship. The breeze, as Captain O’Brien had foretold would be the case, gradually favouring her, enabled her to go much faster through the water than the other. The captain several times pulled his watch, resembling a big turnip in size, out of his fob.“The tide will soon be on the turn, and if we are to get home to-night we must take advantage of it,” he observed, “though I should mightily like to see the end of this.”“Oh, do remain, I pray you,” said Ellen; “we can have no difficulty in getting back to Waterford, for the weather promises to be so fine. Do you think it possible that Monsieur Thurot can escape?”“The chances are against him, Miss Ellen, but it is hard to say what may happen,” answered Captain O’Brien. “Captain Olding is not the man, as I have observed before, to let an enemy slip through his fingers; in less than half an hour he will get near enough to the Frenchman to send his shot on board, and he’ll stick tightly to him, no fear of that.”Ellen held her breath, as she at length saw the ships approaching each other. A puff of white smoke issued from the starboard bow of theChampion. TheCoquillereturned it from her stern-chasers, but the shot fell harmlessly into the water. Again and again theChampionfired; it was evident that she could only bring her foremost gun to bear, unless by keeping away and thereby losing ground.“Thurot knows the coast as well as, or better than, Olding, and is unwilling to lose the advantage of being to windward,” exclaimed Captain O’Brien. “See, he keeps his luff, and theChampionis compelled to do the same; I thought it would be so. TheChampionis losing the breeze, which has hitherto been in her favour, and if she doesn’t manage to wing the Frenchman, the fellow, who has evidently a fast pair of heels, will slip by between her and the land. See, she’s not going to let him do that. Hurrah! she’s kept away; there go her broadside guns. They’ll have told, I hope, with effect on the Frenchman. No, by George! every spar is standing,” exclaimed the captain, as the smoke from theChampion’sbroadside cleared away. She immediately again came to the wind. The ships were still too far apart for the shot to do much damage; they both stood on for some time longer without firing, and were now so greatly increasing their distance from Red Head that the three spectators could but imperfectly discern what took place. Again wreaths of smoke circled above the side of theChampion, and flashes were seen to issue from that of theCoquille, as, imitating the English ship, she put up her helm and kept away across the bows of the latter.“Thurot has made up his mind to run for it,” cried the captain; “he’s squaring away his yards, and Olding’s after him. The Frenchman has no stomach for a fight, that’s very certain; those privateersmen prefer plunder to glory. If Olding doesn’t ply him briskly with his guns, the chase will get away after all. I had hopes of seeing theCoquillebrought in here as a prize; we could then have afforded to forgive her captain the trick he played us.”In vain the captain and his companions waited for any event to show them which ship was likely to be the victor. They were both at length hull down, their masts and spars standing apparently uninjured. Poor Ellen had watched them with intense interest. How long it might be before her anxiety could be removed, she could not tell; that theChampionwould be taken, she did not believe possible. But, alas! many of those on board might be killed or wounded; several days might pass before theChampioncould come into Cork harbour. With straining eyes she gazed towards the two ships gradually become less and less distinct.“Come, Ferris—come, Miss Ellen, my dear—we must be on our homeward voyage, or our friends will become alarmed, and it will be reported that we have been carried off by the Frenchman,” said Captain O’Brien.Very unwillingly Ellen left the height and accompanied her father and the captain to the boat. He had still some distance to pull, though he kept a look-out for a larger boat or a sailing hooker on her way up to Waterford. At length a little high-sterned craft was seen standing out of one of the many small bays which indent the western shore of the harbour. The captain stood up, and shouted and waved, and the hooker, hauling her wind, hove to to await their coming. The skipper, knowing he should be amply recompensed, was delighted to receive them on board and to take their boat in tow; and Ellen, seated on a sail, was wafted up the river in a very different style to that of Cleopatra in her barge, as far as the mouth of the Suir; when, the wind failing, Captain O’Brien, with the assistance of one of the crew of the hooker, pulled up the remainder of the distance to Waterford in theCoquille’sdinghy.It was late in the evening. As they approached the quay they were warmly cheered by a number of the townspeople who had heard of their adventure, information of the departure of the French privateer having already been brought up to Waterford. It was soon evident to Mr Ferris that some other event of importance had occurred.“What has happened, my friends?” he inquired.“Shure, yer honour, one of the French officers has been caught hiding away in your garden,” answered Dan Connor, who was one of the nearest to him among the crowd. “The thief of the world! he made a mighty fine fight of it; but we ran in on him, after he had cut down three or four of us, two being kilt entirely—but we knocked his sword out of his hand and seized him, and he’s lodged comfortably in the Ring Tower, out of which he isn’t likely to get in a hurry.”“Of which French officer do you speak?” asked Mr Ferris; “we left our late prisoner on board theCoquille.”“It wasn’t him, yer honour, but a big fellow with, a patch on his cheek and another over his eye,” answered Dan. “He isn’t a Frenchman at all at all, but from the oaths he swore he’s Irish all the world over—the thunderin’ big villain—no other than Brian O’Harrall, who has a price on his head. It cost us pretty dear to take him too.”Further inquiries convinced Mr Ferris that the supposed French officer was the outlaw who had so long evaded the grasp of justice. The prisoner, he understood, was under a strong guard. Ellen being much fatigued, he accompanied her home before going to ascertain particulars. Norah, who greeted her affectionately, looked pale and agitated.“I have had a dreadful fright,” she said. “My father had insisted on my taking a turn in the garden, and as I reached the rocky walk at the end of the terrace, out of sight of the house, who should appear before me but the first lieutenant of the privateer, who had dined with us yesterday. I had then an undefined suspicion of him, and no sooner did he speak than I was convinced that he was the very person whom we met the other evening, and who attempted to carry me off, and who, notwithstanding his disguise, was, I am sure, the man who was picked up at sea by theOuzel Galley, and acted as second mate on board her. I knew that I had had the misfortune to excite his admiration, but I hoped when he was taken on board the privateer which captured us that I should never again see him. He, however, it appears, was well known to Captain Thurot, who had appointed him his first lieutenant. He made the most outrageous professions of affection; I, of course, would not listen to him; and dreading his violence, before he was aware of what I was about to do, I darted from him and ran, faster than I had ever run before in my life, towards the house. He pursued, entreating me to stop and hear what he had to say. Feeling that he was not to be trusted, I continued my flight, and providentially just then caught sight of Dan Connor and some of the crew of theOuzel Galley, who had come up to see my father, and while waiting to do so had been allowed to stroll into the garden. Several of the workmen and two of the gardeners, who happened to be close at hand, joined the seamen, and the whole party rushed at the stranger, who had by this time reached the bottom of the hill and found retreat impossible. On this, I understand, he drew his sword and made a desperate defence, and though unhappily he wounded two of the men, the rest boldly threw themselves upon him, and wrenching his sword from his hand held him fast. During his violent struggles to free himself the patch over his eye fell off, as did his heavy moustache, and some of the men, as they examined his features, recognised the pirate O’Harrall, the very man of whom Mrs Massey gave you the account. I had rushed into my room, too much frightened and agitated to watch what was taking place. He was carried off to prison, and will of course be brought to trial, in which case I fear that I shall have to appear as a witness against him. I was afraid for some time to tell my father, for the same reason that I did not before inform him of the attack made on us. However, he now knows all that has happened, and he tells me that he is well acquainted with O’Harrall’s history, and believes him capable of the most desperate acts of violence.”Ellen had forgotten her own anxiety in listening to Norah’s recital. She now described to her friend what had occurred, and the feeling which had agitated her while watching the two ships. Norah offered such comfort as one young lady under the circumstances could give another.“I have heard my father say that ships of war often meet and fire many shot without doing each other any harm,” she remarked; “and you know, my dear Ellen, that even though some of the crew of theChampionmay be killed or wounded, there is no especial reason that Lieutenant Foley should be among the sufferers; and it is the lot of naval officers to be constantly exposed to the risk of battle in war time.”“I know it too truly,” replied Ellen; “but it was dreadful to see the ship on board which I knew him to be sailing away to attack so renowned and skilful a captain as Monsieur Thurot—then, to have to wait so long for the issue of the battle.”“Perhaps we shall have tidings of the arrival of theChampionto-morrow,” remarked Norah; “and, from what you tell me, Monsieur Thurot was more anxious to escape than, to fight.”“So I at first thought,” said Ellen; “but I heard Captain O’Brien tell my father that he suspected Thurot’s object was to draw the English ship away from the Irish coast, that should he come off victorious he might have the better chance of securing his prize. It was a relief to me to hear Captain O’Brien say he did not for a moment believe that theChampionwould be beaten; on the contrary, that it would be much more likely that she would take theCoquille. Still, there must inevitably have been a fierce battle; and oh, Norah, if you knew how I feel for Norman Foley, you would understand my anxiety.”“I can fully understand it,” said Norah, “and I often think how sad it must be for poor women left at home, to know that those they love are exposed to dangers and hardships of all sorts which they are utterly powerless to relieve. Such must be the lot of all sailors’ wives and those who have engaged their hearts to sailors—and yet it would be cruel to the poor men if on that account they could get no one to love them.”“Yes, indeed,” said Ellen, sighing; “but then, remember, we can pray for them, and we can do our best to make them happy when they return home.”Norah at length persuaded Ellen, who had had but little rest on the previous night, to lie down and try to forget her anxiety in sleep. Soon afterwards Gerald came in. He had been rather indignant at not having been taken when the party visited the supposed Jersey privateer.“Had I seen Monsieur Thurot, I should have recognised him at once, for I marked him well when he came on board theOuzel Galley; and I suspect, too, I should have detected his first lieutenant, in spite of his disguise,” he exclaimed. “I wonder you did not find out that he was our mate Carnegan.”“I did more than once fancy that I knew his voice, but it seemed so improbable that he should be on board a Jersey privateer that I banished the idea,” answered Norah. “Now, Gerald, I want you to go and inquire after Mrs Massey and Owen; they may hear rumours of what has occurred, and will wish to know the truth. You will have time to go there and be back again before dark.”Gerald, who was always good-natured and anxious to please Norah, undertook to go and deliver any message, written or oral, she might wish to send. She had already a note prepared for Owen, and with it Gerald set off. He found Owen much better, and ready, if the doctor would let him, to walk into Waterford to see Norah; but Mrs Massey was sure that he overrated his strength, and told Gerald that Norah must not expect him for some days. She was much interested at hearing the account which Gerald gave of the various occurrences of the last two days.“And can that unhappy man have really been captured? What a sad ending to a once respected family!” she exclaimed. “He cannot expect pardon. I bear him no ill-will, though his family has been the ruin of ours; and even now, in the hope that he may have time for repentance, I would thankfully hear that he had escaped rather than suffer the death his crimes deserve.”“I should certainly not have suspected that the Carnegan we had as second mate on board theOuzel Galleycould have been a murderer and pirate,” said Gerald. “The men, however, were inclined to believe from the way he was saved that he was in league with the Evil One, and they will now be convinced that such was the case.”“Satan would rather have let him drown,” said Mrs Massey, “unless indeed he wished to employ him in some still more wicked deed. He undoubtedly mates use of those who willingly yield to him as his tools to work out his designs.”While Mrs Massey had been talking to Gerald, Owen had been inditing an answer to Norah’s note, with which, rather later than he had intended, Gerald set off to return home. It was quite dark before he reached the town. He was proceeding along a narrow lane which offered a shorter cut than the high road, when he heard the footsteps of a person running at full speed, and directly afterwards a man rushed by him whose countenance he could not see; but it struck him at the time that the figure greatly resembled that of Carnegan, the second mate of theOuzel Galley. He was doubtful for a moment whether he should follow: though brave enough under ordinary circumstances, he felt pretty certain that if such was the case O’Harrall would not scruple to knock him on the head or to blow his brains out; and so he did the next best thing which occurred to him—he ran on, intending to make his way to the Ring Tower to give information that the prisoner had escaped; though he fully expected to meet a party in hot pursuit of the fugitive.Mrs Massey was at supper with her son, when there came a knock at the door, and a bare-headed damsel appeared.“Mrs Massey, my mother’s taken mighty bad entirely, and will it plaze ye to come and see what ye can do for her?” she exclaimed, in a petitioning tone. Mrs Massey, who was proud of the medical knowledge she exercised for the benefit of her neighbours, immediately arose.“Indeed, and I’ll come, Molly,” she answered. “Just wait till I put on my hood and fill my basket with such things as I may require.”She speedily getting ready, told Owen that she would soon be back, and that Mrs Hogan would know that she could not leave him all alone for any length of time; and off she set, with Molly Hogan carrying a lantern before her.Owen trimmed the lamp which burnt on the table, and sat down to read till his mother’s return. He had not long been thus occupied, when hearing the door open he looked up, expecting that Mrs Massey had returned for something she had omitted to take with her. Instead of his mother, he saw standing before him the second mate of theOuzel Galley. For a moment he thought that he must be dreaming.“You know me, Owen Massey,” exclaimed his visitor, “You saved my life once, when the devil well-nigh had me in his clutches, and I come to throw myself on your generosity—to ask you to render me a further service. Should I be recaptured, I should be doomed to the gallows, and I have no fancy for that fate. Conceal me for a few hours, and I shall be able to get off in safety; refuse to do so, and I shall fall into the hands of my pursuers.”Owen hesitated, not because he was aware that the man before him was O’Harrall, the enemy of his family, but because he was unwilling to expose his mother to the penalty of harbouring a fugitive from justice. He rose from his seat and said, “I now know you to be Brian O’Harrall.” His visitor started, and drew back a pace, as if about to leave the cottage, believing that all hope of assistance must be abandoned. “Stay,” continued Owen, his generous feelings getting the better of him, “I do not on that account the less desire to save you if I can. Should you not have been traced here, I may yet be able to do so.”“I am not likely to have been traced, for my flight can scarcely yet have been discovered,” answered O’Harrall. “You will run no risk, and I will be grateful if I can find an opportunity. I have proved that I am not destitute of gratitude. When on board theOuzel Galley, I obtained better terms for you from Thurot than you would otherwise have enjoyed.”“Follow me, then,” said Owen, “and I will conceal you till you have an opportunity of escaping; but promise me that you will not again return to this part of the country.”“I have no hesitation in doing that, for I intend to do my best to escape from Ireland, never with my own free will to come back,” answered O’Harrall.“That is sufficient,” said Owen; and he led the way through the cottage to an outbuilding at some short distance, over which there was a loft, long disused. Owen found a ladder, by which the fugitive mounted to it.“You can easily leap to the ground when you think fit to continue your flight,” said Owen, who had followed him up. “I will bring you some food, to afford you support both for the present and on your journey; and if you want money, I will supply you.”“I give you my thanks, but I have a purse full of gold. Be quick, however, with the food, or my pursuers may be here and prevent you from bringing it to me,” replied O’Harrall.Owen on descending removed the ladder, and, hurrying into the pantry, collected such provisions as he could most easily find, and for the disappearance of which he could account the next day to his mother. He carried them to the fugitive, and then again replaced the ladder in the spot from which he had taken it. Having done this, he returned to the sitting-room and threw himself into a chair, resting his head on his hand. He had performed a generous action, but still he questioned himself whether it was a right one. He was attempting to conceal from justice an undoubted malefactor; it was an act then, as now, too common in Ireland, and was sure to meet with the sympathy of the people should it be discovered. Owen possibly might have partaken somewhat in the feeling general among all classes, that it was a right thing to protect those in distress, whatever their crimes against society. A more generous motive had influenced him, and he might have been less inclined to act as he had done should a person indifferent to him, and equally criminal in the sight of the law, have thrown himself upon his mercy. Owen did not know the full wrong O’Harrall had attempted to inflict upon him; even had he been aware of this, it might not have altered his conduct.Some time passed before his mother returned; during it, he did his best to calm his feelings, for he had determined not to tell her what had occurred, hoping that before the next morning O’Harrall would have disappeared. Shortly after she entered the cottage the old lady urged Owen to go to bed.“You look somewhat pale, my son,” she said, holding the light to his face, “and late hours do not suit an invalid.”“When you set me the example, I will go and turn in,” answered Owen, laughing. As he was speaking, loud shouts were heard, and several people came running up and knocking loudly at the door.“Who is it?” asked Mrs Massey.“Shure, it’s Pat Magragh. Are ye safe inside, Mrs Massey, honey?” inquired one of the men from the outside.“And where else should I be?” answered the widow, recognising the voice and going to the door. Owen felt very uncomfortable, for he fully expected that inquiries would be made for the fugitive.“Shure, it’s no matther at all, thin,” exclaimed the man. “As we got to Molly Hogan’s, she told us that ye’d just left the cottage, and it might be the big villain we were hunting might have fallen in wid ye and done ye harm; but if ye didn’t see him, it’s all right, and we must be joining the rest of the bhoys who ran after him.”“Whom do you mean?” asked Mrs Massey.“Brian O’Harrall, to be shure,” was the answer; “he’s broken out of the Ring Tower, nobody knows how—except he got the help of the devil and his imps.”“Thank Heaven I did not meet him! it would have well-nigh driven me out of my wits,” said the widow, trembling at the thoughts of the supposed danger she had escaped.“Good night, Mrs Massey; keep your door closed, lest he should turn like a fox and bolt in,” cried Pat Magragh, as he and his companions hurried away in pursuit, as they believed, of the escaped criminal. Mrs Massey did as she was advised, and sat down, endeavouring to calm her agitation, and feeling but little inclined to go to bed.“It is useless to sit up, mother,” observed Owen, after Mrs Massey had been talking for some time about the escape of O’Harrall. “The man, if he has got away, is certain not to return. At all events, you will be as safe in bed as anywhere else.”After some persuasion Mrs Massey consented to retire to bed, and after listening for some time at last fell asleep. The window of Owen’s room looked directly down upon the outbuilding in which the fugitive was concealed. Owen felt much relieved, from believing that those who had gone on were not likely to think of examining the place; still, he could not go to sleep, and putting out his candle he sat down at the window to watch, hoping that O’Harrall would take the opportunity of slipping out and getting off to a distance, no watched in vain. After some hours he heard the tramp of feet along the road and the voices of men shouting to each other. They were the people who had gone in chase of O’Harrall. Could the outlaw have continued his flight and, after all, have been captured? Owen listened attentively, and felt convinced that they were returning to the city without having overtaken the fugitive, he could no longer restrain his wish to ascertain whether O’Harrall was still in the loft, and cautiously descending the stair, he lighted a lantern and went out. To place the ladder so as to reach the trap was the work of a moment. He ascended to the loft, and throwing the light towards the further end, he saw the man he came to look for sleeping soundly.Before Owen had advanced a step O’Harrall awoke and, springing to his feet, saw who it was.“I came to tell you,” said Owen, “that the men who had gone in pursuit of you have, to the best of my belief, returned to the city, and now would be a favourable time to make your escape.”O’Harrall hesitated. “What o’clock is it?” he asked.“Just past midnight,” refilled Owen.“Are you certain that the men who are hunting for me have returned to the city?” asked O’Harrall.“Judging from what I heard, and the direction in which their voices died away, I am confident of it,” said Owen.“Then I will follow your advice,” answered O’Harrall. “You have increased the debt of gratitude I owe you. I have no means of showing that I am grateful; but do me one favour more—accept this ring; it belonged to your family. It has a curious device on it, which is its chief value. I wish you to believe that, reckless as I am, I still retain some of the feelings I possessed when you knew me in days gone by. Come, take it; I cannot leave this place till you have done so. There, man, take the ring; it might have been yours by right.”Owen took the ring and placed it on his finger.“If we ever again meet, however much changed you may be, I shall know you by that,” said O’Harrall. “Now, farewell—may a happier fate be yours than will probably be my lot!”“Stay a moment, and I will ascertain that no one is near,” said Owen, as O’Harrall was about to descend the ladder. He hid the lantern, and went out into the open part of the garden and round to the front of the house. Clouds obscured the stars; not a sound was to be heard, except the voice of some bird of night, which came from a distance. By some it might have been thought of ill omen, but Owen was above the superstitions of the ignorant. He returned to the outhouse, and in a low voice called to O’Harrall, who immediately descended the ladder.“I feel sure that no one is on the watch,” said Owen, “and it may be most prudent for you to get away at once.”“You are right,” answered O’Harrall. “Again farewell, Massey; though we may never more see each other, I shall always remember that I have met with one honest and generous man.”He did not, however, put out his hand, perhaps supposing that Massey would consider himself contaminated by touching it.“Go into your house,” he continued, “and let me follow my own course, that you may not even know what direction I have taken.”Owen did as he was advised, leaving O’Harrall standing beneath the shelter of the buildings. Closing the door he returned to his room, when on looking out of his window, he found that O’Harrall had disappeared. His mind felt greatly relieved at the thought that he was no longer harbouring a fugitive from justice. On going into the garden the next morning, he could perceive no traces by which it might perchance be discovered that O’Harrall had been there, and he determined that the occurrence should be known only to his mother and himself. He considered that it would be wrong to conceal it from her, and, sitting down, he told her what he had done. She did not speak for a minute or more.“You acted rightly, my son,” she said at length. “The O’Harralls have been our bitter enemies, but our holy religion teaches us that we should not only forgive our foes, but do good to those who most cruelly ill-treat and abuse us; whatever man may say, God will approve of your act, for he knows the motive which prompted you.”

The worthy captain had not handled a pair of oars for many a year, but he seized the sculls and pulled away lustily towards the western side of the harbour. As to rowing up it against the strong tide then running out, that, he saw, was hopeless, Mr Ferris being no oarsman. TheCoquille’ssails were let fall, and the men in the boats giving way, she in a short time was clear of the harbour, and was seen to stand close-hauled towards the south-west, the tide being in her favour. The stranger had by this time made her out, and was steering on the opposite tack towards the harbour’s mouth. Being far to leeward, there appeared but little chance, unless the breeze should freshen, of the two ships meeting.

“I only hope they may,” said the captain, as he tugged away at the oars. “Thurot is a fine fellow, no doubt about that; but he deserves to be punished for his impudence, and if theChampiongets alongside him, he’ll find that he’s caught a Tartar. Olding isn’t the man to part company with an enemy till she strikes, or one or the other goes to the bottom. His officers are like him, I hear, and I shouldn’t be astonished to see theCoquillebrought in a prize before many hours are over.”

Ellen looked pale and anxious while the captain was speaking.

“We knew Mr Foley, the second lieutenant of theChampion, very well in Dublin, when she lay at Kingstown,” observed Mr Ferris—“a fine young fellow. I am sure also that you have described Captain Olding truly.”

The captain was all the time pulling away with might and main, now looking ahead to judge of the direction to take, and now watching the two ships.

“Thurot hasn’t calculated on getting becalmed under the land; if he does that, he’ll find theChampionsoon walk up to him,” he observed. “Pulling is harder work than I thought for, or my arms have grown stiffer than they used to be. The sooner we can get on shore the better, and we can wait there till the tide turns, when perhaps we shall find some hooker running up to Waterford which will take us in tow. I’ll pull in for Portala Bay, which you see just inside Red Head.”

“As you please,” said Mr Ferris. “By climbing to the top of the Head we shall, I fancy, be able to watch the proceedings of the two ships.”

The captain pulling on, the boat soon reached a small bay just to the northward of a headland at the western side of the entrance of Waterford harbour. Ellen was eager at once to climb to the summit of the height. The captain and Mr Ferris having drawn up the boat, they set off, and were not long in gaining it. From thence they could command a view of the whole coast of Waterford as far as Youghal Bay, towards which theCoquillewas standing. Her boats had been hoisted up, but she was still, even with a favourable tide, making but slow progress. The ship to the eastward had now come completely into view. The captain took a steady look at her.

“She is a sloop of war—I thought so from the first,” he exclaimed, “and from the cut of her canvas I have little doubt that she is English.”

As he spoke, the stranger’s ensign blew out from her peak.

“Yes, I knew I was right—she is theChampion, depend on it. If the breeze favours her, far as she is to leeward, she’ll be up to Captain Thurot before noon,” he continued. “If she once gets him within range of her guns, she’ll not let him go till he cries peccavi.”

Ellen was seated on a rock which formed the highest part of the headland. Even under ordinary circumstances she would have watched the two vessels with much interest, but the intensity of her feelings may be supposed, as she thought of one who was on board the British ship; for although the gallant lieutenant had not yet spoken, she fully believed that he had given her his heart, and she could not avoid confessing to herself that she had bestowed hers in return. In a few short hours he might be engaged in a deadly strife with a ship equal in size and the number of her crew to theChampion; and though she could not doubt that the British would come off victorious, yet she well knew the risk to which each of her gallant crew would be exposed. TheChampionhad stood within a mile of the mouth of the harbour, when she tacked and steered for the French ship. The breeze, as Captain O’Brien had foretold would be the case, gradually favouring her, enabled her to go much faster through the water than the other. The captain several times pulled his watch, resembling a big turnip in size, out of his fob.

“The tide will soon be on the turn, and if we are to get home to-night we must take advantage of it,” he observed, “though I should mightily like to see the end of this.”

“Oh, do remain, I pray you,” said Ellen; “we can have no difficulty in getting back to Waterford, for the weather promises to be so fine. Do you think it possible that Monsieur Thurot can escape?”

“The chances are against him, Miss Ellen, but it is hard to say what may happen,” answered Captain O’Brien. “Captain Olding is not the man, as I have observed before, to let an enemy slip through his fingers; in less than half an hour he will get near enough to the Frenchman to send his shot on board, and he’ll stick tightly to him, no fear of that.”

Ellen held her breath, as she at length saw the ships approaching each other. A puff of white smoke issued from the starboard bow of theChampion. TheCoquillereturned it from her stern-chasers, but the shot fell harmlessly into the water. Again and again theChampionfired; it was evident that she could only bring her foremost gun to bear, unless by keeping away and thereby losing ground.

“Thurot knows the coast as well as, or better than, Olding, and is unwilling to lose the advantage of being to windward,” exclaimed Captain O’Brien. “See, he keeps his luff, and theChampionis compelled to do the same; I thought it would be so. TheChampionis losing the breeze, which has hitherto been in her favour, and if she doesn’t manage to wing the Frenchman, the fellow, who has evidently a fast pair of heels, will slip by between her and the land. See, she’s not going to let him do that. Hurrah! she’s kept away; there go her broadside guns. They’ll have told, I hope, with effect on the Frenchman. No, by George! every spar is standing,” exclaimed the captain, as the smoke from theChampion’sbroadside cleared away. She immediately again came to the wind. The ships were still too far apart for the shot to do much damage; they both stood on for some time longer without firing, and were now so greatly increasing their distance from Red Head that the three spectators could but imperfectly discern what took place. Again wreaths of smoke circled above the side of theChampion, and flashes were seen to issue from that of theCoquille, as, imitating the English ship, she put up her helm and kept away across the bows of the latter.

“Thurot has made up his mind to run for it,” cried the captain; “he’s squaring away his yards, and Olding’s after him. The Frenchman has no stomach for a fight, that’s very certain; those privateersmen prefer plunder to glory. If Olding doesn’t ply him briskly with his guns, the chase will get away after all. I had hopes of seeing theCoquillebrought in here as a prize; we could then have afforded to forgive her captain the trick he played us.”

In vain the captain and his companions waited for any event to show them which ship was likely to be the victor. They were both at length hull down, their masts and spars standing apparently uninjured. Poor Ellen had watched them with intense interest. How long it might be before her anxiety could be removed, she could not tell; that theChampionwould be taken, she did not believe possible. But, alas! many of those on board might be killed or wounded; several days might pass before theChampioncould come into Cork harbour. With straining eyes she gazed towards the two ships gradually become less and less distinct.

“Come, Ferris—come, Miss Ellen, my dear—we must be on our homeward voyage, or our friends will become alarmed, and it will be reported that we have been carried off by the Frenchman,” said Captain O’Brien.

Very unwillingly Ellen left the height and accompanied her father and the captain to the boat. He had still some distance to pull, though he kept a look-out for a larger boat or a sailing hooker on her way up to Waterford. At length a little high-sterned craft was seen standing out of one of the many small bays which indent the western shore of the harbour. The captain stood up, and shouted and waved, and the hooker, hauling her wind, hove to to await their coming. The skipper, knowing he should be amply recompensed, was delighted to receive them on board and to take their boat in tow; and Ellen, seated on a sail, was wafted up the river in a very different style to that of Cleopatra in her barge, as far as the mouth of the Suir; when, the wind failing, Captain O’Brien, with the assistance of one of the crew of the hooker, pulled up the remainder of the distance to Waterford in theCoquille’sdinghy.

It was late in the evening. As they approached the quay they were warmly cheered by a number of the townspeople who had heard of their adventure, information of the departure of the French privateer having already been brought up to Waterford. It was soon evident to Mr Ferris that some other event of importance had occurred.

“What has happened, my friends?” he inquired.

“Shure, yer honour, one of the French officers has been caught hiding away in your garden,” answered Dan Connor, who was one of the nearest to him among the crowd. “The thief of the world! he made a mighty fine fight of it; but we ran in on him, after he had cut down three or four of us, two being kilt entirely—but we knocked his sword out of his hand and seized him, and he’s lodged comfortably in the Ring Tower, out of which he isn’t likely to get in a hurry.”

“Of which French officer do you speak?” asked Mr Ferris; “we left our late prisoner on board theCoquille.”

“It wasn’t him, yer honour, but a big fellow with, a patch on his cheek and another over his eye,” answered Dan. “He isn’t a Frenchman at all at all, but from the oaths he swore he’s Irish all the world over—the thunderin’ big villain—no other than Brian O’Harrall, who has a price on his head. It cost us pretty dear to take him too.”

Further inquiries convinced Mr Ferris that the supposed French officer was the outlaw who had so long evaded the grasp of justice. The prisoner, he understood, was under a strong guard. Ellen being much fatigued, he accompanied her home before going to ascertain particulars. Norah, who greeted her affectionately, looked pale and agitated.

“I have had a dreadful fright,” she said. “My father had insisted on my taking a turn in the garden, and as I reached the rocky walk at the end of the terrace, out of sight of the house, who should appear before me but the first lieutenant of the privateer, who had dined with us yesterday. I had then an undefined suspicion of him, and no sooner did he speak than I was convinced that he was the very person whom we met the other evening, and who attempted to carry me off, and who, notwithstanding his disguise, was, I am sure, the man who was picked up at sea by theOuzel Galley, and acted as second mate on board her. I knew that I had had the misfortune to excite his admiration, but I hoped when he was taken on board the privateer which captured us that I should never again see him. He, however, it appears, was well known to Captain Thurot, who had appointed him his first lieutenant. He made the most outrageous professions of affection; I, of course, would not listen to him; and dreading his violence, before he was aware of what I was about to do, I darted from him and ran, faster than I had ever run before in my life, towards the house. He pursued, entreating me to stop and hear what he had to say. Feeling that he was not to be trusted, I continued my flight, and providentially just then caught sight of Dan Connor and some of the crew of theOuzel Galley, who had come up to see my father, and while waiting to do so had been allowed to stroll into the garden. Several of the workmen and two of the gardeners, who happened to be close at hand, joined the seamen, and the whole party rushed at the stranger, who had by this time reached the bottom of the hill and found retreat impossible. On this, I understand, he drew his sword and made a desperate defence, and though unhappily he wounded two of the men, the rest boldly threw themselves upon him, and wrenching his sword from his hand held him fast. During his violent struggles to free himself the patch over his eye fell off, as did his heavy moustache, and some of the men, as they examined his features, recognised the pirate O’Harrall, the very man of whom Mrs Massey gave you the account. I had rushed into my room, too much frightened and agitated to watch what was taking place. He was carried off to prison, and will of course be brought to trial, in which case I fear that I shall have to appear as a witness against him. I was afraid for some time to tell my father, for the same reason that I did not before inform him of the attack made on us. However, he now knows all that has happened, and he tells me that he is well acquainted with O’Harrall’s history, and believes him capable of the most desperate acts of violence.”

Ellen had forgotten her own anxiety in listening to Norah’s recital. She now described to her friend what had occurred, and the feeling which had agitated her while watching the two ships. Norah offered such comfort as one young lady under the circumstances could give another.

“I have heard my father say that ships of war often meet and fire many shot without doing each other any harm,” she remarked; “and you know, my dear Ellen, that even though some of the crew of theChampionmay be killed or wounded, there is no especial reason that Lieutenant Foley should be among the sufferers; and it is the lot of naval officers to be constantly exposed to the risk of battle in war time.”

“I know it too truly,” replied Ellen; “but it was dreadful to see the ship on board which I knew him to be sailing away to attack so renowned and skilful a captain as Monsieur Thurot—then, to have to wait so long for the issue of the battle.”

“Perhaps we shall have tidings of the arrival of theChampionto-morrow,” remarked Norah; “and, from what you tell me, Monsieur Thurot was more anxious to escape than, to fight.”

“So I at first thought,” said Ellen; “but I heard Captain O’Brien tell my father that he suspected Thurot’s object was to draw the English ship away from the Irish coast, that should he come off victorious he might have the better chance of securing his prize. It was a relief to me to hear Captain O’Brien say he did not for a moment believe that theChampionwould be beaten; on the contrary, that it would be much more likely that she would take theCoquille. Still, there must inevitably have been a fierce battle; and oh, Norah, if you knew how I feel for Norman Foley, you would understand my anxiety.”

“I can fully understand it,” said Norah, “and I often think how sad it must be for poor women left at home, to know that those they love are exposed to dangers and hardships of all sorts which they are utterly powerless to relieve. Such must be the lot of all sailors’ wives and those who have engaged their hearts to sailors—and yet it would be cruel to the poor men if on that account they could get no one to love them.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Ellen, sighing; “but then, remember, we can pray for them, and we can do our best to make them happy when they return home.”

Norah at length persuaded Ellen, who had had but little rest on the previous night, to lie down and try to forget her anxiety in sleep. Soon afterwards Gerald came in. He had been rather indignant at not having been taken when the party visited the supposed Jersey privateer.

“Had I seen Monsieur Thurot, I should have recognised him at once, for I marked him well when he came on board theOuzel Galley; and I suspect, too, I should have detected his first lieutenant, in spite of his disguise,” he exclaimed. “I wonder you did not find out that he was our mate Carnegan.”

“I did more than once fancy that I knew his voice, but it seemed so improbable that he should be on board a Jersey privateer that I banished the idea,” answered Norah. “Now, Gerald, I want you to go and inquire after Mrs Massey and Owen; they may hear rumours of what has occurred, and will wish to know the truth. You will have time to go there and be back again before dark.”

Gerald, who was always good-natured and anxious to please Norah, undertook to go and deliver any message, written or oral, she might wish to send. She had already a note prepared for Owen, and with it Gerald set off. He found Owen much better, and ready, if the doctor would let him, to walk into Waterford to see Norah; but Mrs Massey was sure that he overrated his strength, and told Gerald that Norah must not expect him for some days. She was much interested at hearing the account which Gerald gave of the various occurrences of the last two days.

“And can that unhappy man have really been captured? What a sad ending to a once respected family!” she exclaimed. “He cannot expect pardon. I bear him no ill-will, though his family has been the ruin of ours; and even now, in the hope that he may have time for repentance, I would thankfully hear that he had escaped rather than suffer the death his crimes deserve.”

“I should certainly not have suspected that the Carnegan we had as second mate on board theOuzel Galleycould have been a murderer and pirate,” said Gerald. “The men, however, were inclined to believe from the way he was saved that he was in league with the Evil One, and they will now be convinced that such was the case.”

“Satan would rather have let him drown,” said Mrs Massey, “unless indeed he wished to employ him in some still more wicked deed. He undoubtedly mates use of those who willingly yield to him as his tools to work out his designs.”

While Mrs Massey had been talking to Gerald, Owen had been inditing an answer to Norah’s note, with which, rather later than he had intended, Gerald set off to return home. It was quite dark before he reached the town. He was proceeding along a narrow lane which offered a shorter cut than the high road, when he heard the footsteps of a person running at full speed, and directly afterwards a man rushed by him whose countenance he could not see; but it struck him at the time that the figure greatly resembled that of Carnegan, the second mate of theOuzel Galley. He was doubtful for a moment whether he should follow: though brave enough under ordinary circumstances, he felt pretty certain that if such was the case O’Harrall would not scruple to knock him on the head or to blow his brains out; and so he did the next best thing which occurred to him—he ran on, intending to make his way to the Ring Tower to give information that the prisoner had escaped; though he fully expected to meet a party in hot pursuit of the fugitive.

Mrs Massey was at supper with her son, when there came a knock at the door, and a bare-headed damsel appeared.

“Mrs Massey, my mother’s taken mighty bad entirely, and will it plaze ye to come and see what ye can do for her?” she exclaimed, in a petitioning tone. Mrs Massey, who was proud of the medical knowledge she exercised for the benefit of her neighbours, immediately arose.

“Indeed, and I’ll come, Molly,” she answered. “Just wait till I put on my hood and fill my basket with such things as I may require.”

She speedily getting ready, told Owen that she would soon be back, and that Mrs Hogan would know that she could not leave him all alone for any length of time; and off she set, with Molly Hogan carrying a lantern before her.

Owen trimmed the lamp which burnt on the table, and sat down to read till his mother’s return. He had not long been thus occupied, when hearing the door open he looked up, expecting that Mrs Massey had returned for something she had omitted to take with her. Instead of his mother, he saw standing before him the second mate of theOuzel Galley. For a moment he thought that he must be dreaming.

“You know me, Owen Massey,” exclaimed his visitor, “You saved my life once, when the devil well-nigh had me in his clutches, and I come to throw myself on your generosity—to ask you to render me a further service. Should I be recaptured, I should be doomed to the gallows, and I have no fancy for that fate. Conceal me for a few hours, and I shall be able to get off in safety; refuse to do so, and I shall fall into the hands of my pursuers.”

Owen hesitated, not because he was aware that the man before him was O’Harrall, the enemy of his family, but because he was unwilling to expose his mother to the penalty of harbouring a fugitive from justice. He rose from his seat and said, “I now know you to be Brian O’Harrall.” His visitor started, and drew back a pace, as if about to leave the cottage, believing that all hope of assistance must be abandoned. “Stay,” continued Owen, his generous feelings getting the better of him, “I do not on that account the less desire to save you if I can. Should you not have been traced here, I may yet be able to do so.”

“I am not likely to have been traced, for my flight can scarcely yet have been discovered,” answered O’Harrall. “You will run no risk, and I will be grateful if I can find an opportunity. I have proved that I am not destitute of gratitude. When on board theOuzel Galley, I obtained better terms for you from Thurot than you would otherwise have enjoyed.”

“Follow me, then,” said Owen, “and I will conceal you till you have an opportunity of escaping; but promise me that you will not again return to this part of the country.”

“I have no hesitation in doing that, for I intend to do my best to escape from Ireland, never with my own free will to come back,” answered O’Harrall.

“That is sufficient,” said Owen; and he led the way through the cottage to an outbuilding at some short distance, over which there was a loft, long disused. Owen found a ladder, by which the fugitive mounted to it.

“You can easily leap to the ground when you think fit to continue your flight,” said Owen, who had followed him up. “I will bring you some food, to afford you support both for the present and on your journey; and if you want money, I will supply you.”

“I give you my thanks, but I have a purse full of gold. Be quick, however, with the food, or my pursuers may be here and prevent you from bringing it to me,” replied O’Harrall.

Owen on descending removed the ladder, and, hurrying into the pantry, collected such provisions as he could most easily find, and for the disappearance of which he could account the next day to his mother. He carried them to the fugitive, and then again replaced the ladder in the spot from which he had taken it. Having done this, he returned to the sitting-room and threw himself into a chair, resting his head on his hand. He had performed a generous action, but still he questioned himself whether it was a right one. He was attempting to conceal from justice an undoubted malefactor; it was an act then, as now, too common in Ireland, and was sure to meet with the sympathy of the people should it be discovered. Owen possibly might have partaken somewhat in the feeling general among all classes, that it was a right thing to protect those in distress, whatever their crimes against society. A more generous motive had influenced him, and he might have been less inclined to act as he had done should a person indifferent to him, and equally criminal in the sight of the law, have thrown himself upon his mercy. Owen did not know the full wrong O’Harrall had attempted to inflict upon him; even had he been aware of this, it might not have altered his conduct.

Some time passed before his mother returned; during it, he did his best to calm his feelings, for he had determined not to tell her what had occurred, hoping that before the next morning O’Harrall would have disappeared. Shortly after she entered the cottage the old lady urged Owen to go to bed.

“You look somewhat pale, my son,” she said, holding the light to his face, “and late hours do not suit an invalid.”

“When you set me the example, I will go and turn in,” answered Owen, laughing. As he was speaking, loud shouts were heard, and several people came running up and knocking loudly at the door.

“Who is it?” asked Mrs Massey.

“Shure, it’s Pat Magragh. Are ye safe inside, Mrs Massey, honey?” inquired one of the men from the outside.

“And where else should I be?” answered the widow, recognising the voice and going to the door. Owen felt very uncomfortable, for he fully expected that inquiries would be made for the fugitive.

“Shure, it’s no matther at all, thin,” exclaimed the man. “As we got to Molly Hogan’s, she told us that ye’d just left the cottage, and it might be the big villain we were hunting might have fallen in wid ye and done ye harm; but if ye didn’t see him, it’s all right, and we must be joining the rest of the bhoys who ran after him.”

“Whom do you mean?” asked Mrs Massey.

“Brian O’Harrall, to be shure,” was the answer; “he’s broken out of the Ring Tower, nobody knows how—except he got the help of the devil and his imps.”

“Thank Heaven I did not meet him! it would have well-nigh driven me out of my wits,” said the widow, trembling at the thoughts of the supposed danger she had escaped.

“Good night, Mrs Massey; keep your door closed, lest he should turn like a fox and bolt in,” cried Pat Magragh, as he and his companions hurried away in pursuit, as they believed, of the escaped criminal. Mrs Massey did as she was advised, and sat down, endeavouring to calm her agitation, and feeling but little inclined to go to bed.

“It is useless to sit up, mother,” observed Owen, after Mrs Massey had been talking for some time about the escape of O’Harrall. “The man, if he has got away, is certain not to return. At all events, you will be as safe in bed as anywhere else.”

After some persuasion Mrs Massey consented to retire to bed, and after listening for some time at last fell asleep. The window of Owen’s room looked directly down upon the outbuilding in which the fugitive was concealed. Owen felt much relieved, from believing that those who had gone on were not likely to think of examining the place; still, he could not go to sleep, and putting out his candle he sat down at the window to watch, hoping that O’Harrall would take the opportunity of slipping out and getting off to a distance, no watched in vain. After some hours he heard the tramp of feet along the road and the voices of men shouting to each other. They were the people who had gone in chase of O’Harrall. Could the outlaw have continued his flight and, after all, have been captured? Owen listened attentively, and felt convinced that they were returning to the city without having overtaken the fugitive, he could no longer restrain his wish to ascertain whether O’Harrall was still in the loft, and cautiously descending the stair, he lighted a lantern and went out. To place the ladder so as to reach the trap was the work of a moment. He ascended to the loft, and throwing the light towards the further end, he saw the man he came to look for sleeping soundly.

Before Owen had advanced a step O’Harrall awoke and, springing to his feet, saw who it was.

“I came to tell you,” said Owen, “that the men who had gone in pursuit of you have, to the best of my belief, returned to the city, and now would be a favourable time to make your escape.”

O’Harrall hesitated. “What o’clock is it?” he asked.

“Just past midnight,” refilled Owen.

“Are you certain that the men who are hunting for me have returned to the city?” asked O’Harrall.

“Judging from what I heard, and the direction in which their voices died away, I am confident of it,” said Owen.

“Then I will follow your advice,” answered O’Harrall. “You have increased the debt of gratitude I owe you. I have no means of showing that I am grateful; but do me one favour more—accept this ring; it belonged to your family. It has a curious device on it, which is its chief value. I wish you to believe that, reckless as I am, I still retain some of the feelings I possessed when you knew me in days gone by. Come, take it; I cannot leave this place till you have done so. There, man, take the ring; it might have been yours by right.”

Owen took the ring and placed it on his finger.

“If we ever again meet, however much changed you may be, I shall know you by that,” said O’Harrall. “Now, farewell—may a happier fate be yours than will probably be my lot!”

“Stay a moment, and I will ascertain that no one is near,” said Owen, as O’Harrall was about to descend the ladder. He hid the lantern, and went out into the open part of the garden and round to the front of the house. Clouds obscured the stars; not a sound was to be heard, except the voice of some bird of night, which came from a distance. By some it might have been thought of ill omen, but Owen was above the superstitions of the ignorant. He returned to the outhouse, and in a low voice called to O’Harrall, who immediately descended the ladder.

“I feel sure that no one is on the watch,” said Owen, “and it may be most prudent for you to get away at once.”

“You are right,” answered O’Harrall. “Again farewell, Massey; though we may never more see each other, I shall always remember that I have met with one honest and generous man.”

He did not, however, put out his hand, perhaps supposing that Massey would consider himself contaminated by touching it.

“Go into your house,” he continued, “and let me follow my own course, that you may not even know what direction I have taken.”

Owen did as he was advised, leaving O’Harrall standing beneath the shelter of the buildings. Closing the door he returned to his room, when on looking out of his window, he found that O’Harrall had disappeared. His mind felt greatly relieved at the thought that he was no longer harbouring a fugitive from justice. On going into the garden the next morning, he could perceive no traces by which it might perchance be discovered that O’Harrall had been there, and he determined that the occurrence should be known only to his mother and himself. He considered that it would be wrong to conceal it from her, and, sitting down, he told her what he had done. She did not speak for a minute or more.

“You acted rightly, my son,” she said at length. “The O’Harralls have been our bitter enemies, but our holy religion teaches us that we should not only forgive our foes, but do good to those who most cruelly ill-treat and abuse us; whatever man may say, God will approve of your act, for he knows the motive which prompted you.”

Chapter Eight.Arrival of the Champion—Mr Ferris goes on board—Brings back Lieutenant Foley wounded—Gerald joins the Champion as midshipman—An account of his shipmates—The Champion sails—Captain Tracy and Norah at home—The Ouzel Galley preparing for sea—Return of the Champion—Sails again—Owen appointed to the command of the Ouzel Galley—Mr Ferris and Ellen go to Dublin—The Ouzel Galley sails—Norah’s life at home—Mr Ferris intends to go to Jamaica—The Ouzel Galley comes back, and Captain Tracy resolves to go round in her to Dublin.“News, Norah! I bring you news, Miss Ellen,” cried Gerald, rushing into the drawing-room where his sister and her friend were seated. “I have just heard that a man-of-war has brought up inside the harbour, with her main-topmast gone and her sails riddled with shot. They say that she is theChampion, and that she has had a desperate action with a French ship, which she sent to the bottom, or which got away from her. Which was the case, I can’t exactly make out, but she has lost I don’t know how many officers and seamen, for there hasn’t been such a bloody fight since the war began. The wounded, I hear, are to be sent on shore, and we shall thus, I suppose, know all about the matter.”Ellen turned pale as Gerald was speaking. “Have you heard who the killed and wounded are?” she asked, in a trembling voice.“No; I could only learn the name of the ship, and that there has been a sharp action there can be no doubt,” answered Gerald.“Perhaps Gerald’s account is exaggerated,” remarked Norah, observing Ellen’s agitation. “If the ship is theChampion, Mr Ferris is sure to go down and visit her; he will ascertain the truth of the report.”“I must—I must go and tell him what has happened, in case he should not have heard it,” said Ellen, rising. She found Mr Ferris in his counting-house, on the ground-floor. He immediately ordered his boat, and telling Ellen that, should he find any wounded officers who might require to be cared for on shore, he would bring them up, he desired her to make preparations for their reception. Gerald, who was on the look-out for him, begged that he might accompany him on board. The boat, with six stout hands, rapidly made her way down the river.Ellen and Norah, like good housewives, lost no time in seeing the spare rooms got ready for their expected guests. The occupation tended to relieve Ellen’s mind.“Perhaps, after all, there may be no wounded officers,” said Norah. “Gerald’s account was very vague—people nearly always exaggerate disasters.”“But I saw the beginning of the battle, and heard the dreadful guns firing—and some of those on board may have been killed,” said Ellen, scarcely able to restrain her feelings.The young ladies had some time to wait after the rooms had been got ready. Ellen was constantly going to the window, from which she could see the river and watch for the return of the boat. Norah, like a faithful friend, did not quit her.“There comes the boat,” exclaimed Ellen, at length. “Oh, see, Norah! there is a person wrapped up in blankets lying in the stern-sheets; my heart told me that he would be wounded.”“It is better so than had your heart told you he would be killed, and it had proved a true prophet,” said Norah, smiling and trying to cheer up her friend. Ellen would have hurried down to the quay, but Norah persuaded her to remain at home. “He may not be Lieutenant Foley, remember,” observed Norah, quietly; “and if he is, you are more likely to agitate him than to do him any good by rushing down to the quay. Think how odd it would look were you to exhibit your feelings in public, or, still more so, should the wounded man prove to be a stranger.”Norah’s sensible remarks prevailed in inducing Ellen to remain quiet till the arrival of the party in the boat. Mr Ferris was the first person who appeared.“You must not be alarmed, my dear child,” he said. “There has been a fierce engagement, in which two officers and several men were killed—”“Oh, father, who were they?” cried Ellen.“A master’s mate and a midshipman,” answered Mr Ferris; “but I am sorry to say that Mr Foley was among the most severely wounded, and he gladly accepted my offer to take him on shore; so I brought him up here, and you and Norah will, I am sure, do your best to look after him.”While Mr Ferris was speaking, the men bearing the wounded lieutenant arrived. Ellen, restraining her feelings, received him with becoming propriety, though his pale lips and wan cheek made her heart sink. He was forthwith conveyed to the room which, had been prepared for him. Dr Roach, who had been an army surgeon, and knew well how to treat gunshot wounds of every description, was immediately sent for, and the young officer was placed under his charge.“We’ll pull him through, young lady,” he observed, after he had visited his patient. “You will naturally wish to know what I think of the case of this fine young officer, who has been bleeding for his country. You need be under no serious apprehensions; he will be fit for duty again shortly. You saw how quickly I doctored up Mr Massey, in whom, if I am not wrongly informed, Miss Norah here takes an interest.”Norah looked conscious. “Young people have hearts, and small blame to them if they fall in love now and then,” remarked the doctor; “and now, my pretty maidens, good-bye to you, for I want to hear more about the battle. I could not let my patient tell me. Remember, I leave him under your charge, but I must lay an embargo on your tongues; talking, or listening to talking, isn’t good for wounded men, though you may sing him to sleep with your sweet voices.”Owen was well enough to accompany Mrs Massey when she returned Norah’s visit, and, moreover, to stroll with her into the garden. He now first heard of O’Harrall’s conduct; his brow flushed as she told him, but he restrained his feelings, and did not let even her know that he had assisted his rival’s escape.“Could the fellow have been aware that she was my betrothed wife, and yet, after such conduct, ventured to claim my protection? I am thankful I did not then know of his behaviour; I might have been tempted to refuse him my aid.” Such were the thoughts which passed through Owen’s mind. “However, bold as he is, he is not likely again to appear in this neighbourhood.”Owen and Norah, having each other’s society, forgot how the time went by, till Gerald came hurrying up to call them into the house. He had just returned from his visit to theChampion; he was full of what he had heard of her engagement with theCoquille. Two officers had been killed, and two, besides Mr Foley, wounded; three men had been killed, and several wounded. The Frenchman, instead of being sent to the bottom, having knocked away theChampion’smain-topmast and cut up her rigging, had managed to get off and run out of sight before her damages could be repaired. Captain Olding had chased in the direction theCoquillehad last been seen, but had failed to come up with her, and was compelled to steer for Waterford.“And, do you know, Norah,” continued Gerald, “I’ve made up my mind to go on board a man-of-war. They all say that Captain Olding will take me, and place me on the quarter-deck, if Mr Ferris introduces me and would say a word in my favour; so if our father approves of it, I hope to go at once, instead of waiting for theOuzel Galley.”“If it would better promote your fortune to serve on board a man-of-war, I will not hinder you,” said Owen, as they walked towards the house.“I would rather you should remain on board the dear old ship, to act as Owen’s mate,” observed Norah; “but if our father allows you to go on board theChampion, neither will I try to alter your determination.”Captain Olding had come up to the house to inquire after his lieutenant. He and Captain Tracy had been shipmates in their younger days. He was well pleased, he said, to be able to forward the views of his friend’s son. It was therefore settled that Gerald should join theChampionat once, and Norah was busy from morning till night in preparing his outfit. Captain Tracy was now able to get about, and even to superintend the repairs of theOuzel Galley. He secretly was somewhat proud of having a son belonging to the Royal Navy. It was the road to honour and fame; Gerald might some day become one of England’s admirals. Still, had the captain intended to continue at sea himself, he would have wished to keep his boy with him, and he would also gladly have had him accompany Owen Massey. Gerald himself was in high glee; he made frequent trips down to theChampion, and always came back with some fresh account of what she had done, and of what his future messmates, the midshipmen, fully expected she would do. He described them to Norah as first-rate, jolly fellows, up to all sorts of fun.“And you may tell Miss Ferris, if you like,” he added, “that they all say there isn’t a more gallant officer in the service than Lieutenant Foley, and they hope that he’ll soon get well and rejoin the ship. They don’t speak quite so favourably of her first lieutenant, Jonah Tarwig, who seems as if he had swallowed the mizen-royal-mast as he was looking aloft one stormy night when the ship was taken aback and it was carried away. He is six feet two in height—how he manages to stow himself in his berth it is hard to say, but it is supposed that he doubles his legs back, for as to coiling away his body, that would be impossible. The master, old Billhook, is a rough diamond, but he understands navigation, and spins tough yarns by the score; I’ll tell you some of them one of these days. The purser, Simon Cheeseparings—that isn’t his real name—was a slopseller in Wapping, but outran his creditors and had to come to sea to escape from Newgate; and the doctor’s a Scotchman whose name begins with Mac, and for brevity’s sake Mac he is always called. Now you know all about the gun-room officers; but the best fellows, out and out, are in our berth. We’ve got two old mates, Beater and Crowhurst—at least, they are old compared to the rest of us, and they are always complaining that they are not port-admirals. Their characters answer to their names, for Beater is never without a cob in his hand, and he uses it pretty freely; and Crowhurst is always boasting of his own mighty deeds or those of his ancestors—and if you are to take his word for it, they (his ancestors, I mean) came over with William the Conqueror, and ought to be dukes at the least. However, putting their peculiarities aside, they’re capital fellows, and, if they have an opportunity, will show that they have the true metal in them—so my chum, Nat Kiddle, says. He doesn’t pretend to be anybody, though I can tell you he’s a broth of a boy, and it’s a pity he wasn’t an Irishman, for he’d do honour to the old country; but he happens to be the tenth son of an English farmer, whose brother was a lieutenant in the navy, and took him to sea, but his uncle having been killed at the end of the last war, Nat has to shift for himself. Though he has tumbled into a good many scrapes, he has always managed to fall on his feet. Then we’ve got a young lord, Mountstephen; he is always called Molly, but he doesn’t at all mind, and declares that he’ll some day show the Frenchmen what an English Molly can do. In reality, he is the pet of the mess—not because he’s a lord, but because he’s a very nice little fellow, who looks as if he ought to be in the nursery instead of knocking about in a sloop of war. But I don’t know, Norah, whether you’ll care to hear about the rest of us.”“Oh yes,” answered Norah; “I am very much interested, especially in the little lord. I hope you’ll help to take care of him.”“Yes, that you may depend on it I will,” said Gerald; “if I get into scrapes, I’ll take care he doesn’t—though I don’t intend to get into any myself, notwithstanding that they say Irishmen always do. They’ve dubbed me Paddy already, but of course I’m proud of that, and shall always stick up for old Ireland, and sing ‘Erin-go-bragh’ on all occasions. Well, I’ll tell you about the rest of our mess another day, and something about the warrant officers. We’ve three of them, the gunner, boatswain, and carpenter—and as chance will have it, the first is a Scotchman, the second an Englishman, and the third an Irishman; and though they’re mighty good friends, they are always wrangling about their respective countries, each one declaring his own to be superior to the others in every respect. Barney O’Rourke hailed me at once as a countryman, and was mighty pleased to see one young gentleman, at least, from the Emerald Isle who would stick up for our country’s honour. ‘And, by my faith, that’s what I intend to do,’ I answered—and we became sworn friends. There now, Norah, I think you know a good deal about our ship already, and when Lieutenant Foley gets about again, which I hope he’ll do in a few days, you will learn a good deal more; and when we’re away, you’ll be able to fancy me on board among my shipmates.”Norah sighed as she thought how soon her young brother, who had never before been parted from her, would be away, with the chance of not coming back for three or four years, for theChampionhad only lately been commissioned, and might before long be sent to a foreign station. At length Captain Olding, theChampionbeing ready for sea, ordered Gerald on board to perform, duty as a midshipman. He intended, however, to return in the course of two or three weeks, expecting by that time that his second lieutenant would be sufficiently recovered to resume his duties. Norah accompanied her father and Owen down the river to wish Gerald good-bye, and to see the ship sail. She felt rather sad as the boat shoved off, when the anchor was apeak and the white canvas let fall, and the ship began to glide majestically away through the calm waters of the harbour—for, besides that she grieved to part with her young brother, the thought occurred to her that theOuzel Galleywould be the next ship she should see taking her departure from port. Owen, who was now able to be constantly with her, offered, not unsuccessfully, all the consolation in his power. Captain Tracy, being now well enough to go about, removed with her to their own cottage, situated a short distance from Waterford, and within a mile of Mrs Massey’s abode. It was a pretty spot. The cottage, with its porch covered with clematis and eglantine, stood in a good garden in which the captain delighted to work during his leisure hours. From the windows could be seen the broad, shining river and the shipping in the distance on one side, and from the other the mountainous regions to the westward. Altogether, no young lady could have desired a more romantic bower.The captain, by his successful voyages, had been able to save a sufficient sum to live in comfort, with a handmaiden, Biddy O’Halloran, to attend on him and his daughter, and a gessoon to look after the cows and pigs and to work in the garden. Still, notwithstanding her present happiness, it was but natural that poor Norah should reflect that in a short time Owen must sail away in command of theOuzel Galley, and be subject to all the dangers of the sea, increased in war time by the chance of being captured by the enemy. He and her father were now absent all day long, attending to the fitting out of the ship, which was making rapid progress. Her owners had decided on sending her back to the West Indies, and Owen assured Norah that, as he should probably find a cargo waiting for him, he should not be long absent. She paid frequent visits to Ellen, who could heartily sympathise with her. Lieutenant Foley had entirely recovered from his wound, and would have to rejoin theChampionas soon as she arrived in the harbour, in which she was every day expected. Norah thought that the lieutenant deserved all the praises bestowed on him by Gerald, though of course he was not equal, in her estimation, to Owen. Still, she could not be surprised that her friend had given him her heart, especially as he had owned that he had given his to Ellen; and they were now regularly betrothed with the full approval of Mr Ferris, and were to marry as soon as Mr Foley had obtained the rank of commander.The days and weeks went rapidly by. Mr Ferris intended, as soon as Lieutenant Foley had joined his ship, to return with his daughter to Dublin. This would be a great loss to Norah, as she was acquainted with but few other young ladies in the neighbourhood; indeed, from having been at school with Ellen, they were more like sisters than ordinary friends. Ellen had begged that she would visit her in Dublin, but she could not leave her father, and still less did she wish to quit Waterford till theOuzel Galleyhad sailed; after that, she felt that she should have no spirit to enjoy the gay society of the metropolis, even should her father insist on her accepting Ellen’s invitation.The arrival of theChampionwas announced at last by Gerald, who early one morning rushed into the house.“We came in last night, and are to sail again this evening, so I obtained leave to run up to see you,” cried Gerald. “I’ve got lots to tell you,” he continued, after he had exchanged greetings with his father and sister, and was seated at the breakfast-table. “We haven’t had any actual fight, but we’ve taken several prizes, one of them, as big as theChampion, cut out in gallant style. She was seen at anchor in Saint Martin’s Roads, and the captain determined to have her. We stood away, and the Frenchman must have supposed we had gone; but at night, when it was very dark, we stood back again. Three boats were then lowered, and I had the good luck to be sent in one of them. We at once pulled away for the roads with muffled oars. There lay the ship right ahead of us; we could just see her masts against the sky. The Frenchmen must have been all asleep, or keeping a very bad look-out, for we were alongside and our fellows almost on her deck before we were discovered. The Frenchmen, thus taken by surprise, made but a very feeble resistance, and though a few of them were knocked over, we didn’t lose a man. The cable was cut and the topsails sheeted home before the fort began to fire, and as the wind was off shore, we got out of range with very little damage. We earned our prize into Plymouth, and our captain, I believe, gained some credit for his exploit; though except that he designed it, he took no part, for old Tarwig commanded one boat, and the master, Billhook, another, and one of our mates and I went in the third. Had half of us been killed, I suppose more would have been thought of the affair. While at Plymouth we heard from the bumboat women, who have always the most correct intelligence, that we were to be sent to the West Indies, and we soon found that they were right; but the captain got leave to come in here first, to take Lieutenant Foley on board, and to obtain fresh provisions; so I shall be visiting the old scenes again, and, I hope, fall in with Owen. That will be good fun; perhaps we shall have to convoy him home, or maybe, should theOuzel Galleyfall into the hands of the enemy, retake the ship. Faith, shouldn’t I be delighted.”“Oh, don’t talk of such a dreadful thing!” exclaimed Norah. “I hope that you may have to convoy him home, and that we may see you both back here in five or six months.”Gerald could stay but a very short time, as he had been ordered to return on board with Lieutenant Foley. Norah and Captain Tracy accompanied him into Waterford. They found the lieutenant ready to start, and Norah remained with Ellen, who had just taken farewell of her intended husband. Owen, having joined the captain and Norah, went down to the quay to see Gerald off.“We shall meet, I hope, soon, Owen,” said the young midshipman. “I feel half ashamed of myself for deserting you; but if you knew the life we lead on board theChampion, you wouldn’t be surprised at my preferring her to the dear oldGalley.”“The time may come when you may think differently. But good-bye, my lad; I hope you will enjoy yourself and come back safe,” answered Owen, as Gerald sprang on board.The lieutenant gazed with eager eyes towards the windows of the large house overlooking the river, where he could see a white handkerchief waving to him. Two or three more years might pass before he could again press the hand lately clasped in his, and it was a hard matter for him just then to keep up his spirits. Soon after the boat returned on board, the anchor was hove up, and theChampion, under all sail, stood to the south-west.In the evening Mr Ferris desired to see Owen. “My partners and I have given you charge of theOuzel Galley, Captain Massey, and we trust that you will be as devoted to our interests as your predecessor has been,” he said, giving Owen for the first time the title of captain. “Having undergone a thorough refit, we hope that she will require no fresh repairs for some time to come. We intend to insure her among our friends in Dublin, and they, knowing her good qualities and your careful character, would be ready to underwrite her at a moderate premium considering the war risk.”“You may rely on my taking the best care I possibly can of the ship,” answered Owen, “and, as she has (I may say it without fear) a fair pair of heels, on my keeping clear of every enemy I may sight.”“That is what we wish, Mr Massey,” said Mr Ferris. “We don’t want men who will run their noses into danger; and true courage and seamanship will best be shown in your case by cleverly escaping from your foes. You will get the ship ready for sea as soon as possible, and take your cargo on board, and we will then send you further directions from Dublin.”Owen took leave of his employer and returned home. The next day Mr Ferris, accompanied by Ellen, proceeded to Dublin.Norah’s day of trial came at length. She ought not to have complained, as she had enjoyed Owen’s society for some months. TheOuzel Galleyhaving shipped her cargo, chiefly of salt provisions, and other produce of the fertile south of Ireland, hauled out into the stream. Her old captain, with Norah and Mrs Massey, went on board to bid farewell to Owen, and proceeded down the river till she had crossed the bar, when Captain Tracy took Owen by the hand.“Heaven speed you, my boy!” he said. “May He who guarded me through the many dangers of the ocean take care of you, and bring you back in safety to those who will ever give you a loving welcome! And now, the shorter you cut the parting with those two the better.”Mrs Massey saw that the time had come; she threw her amis round the young captain’s neck, and asked God again and again to protect him. Then she let Norah take her place, while Captain Tracy helped her down into the boat alongside, in which Owen soon afterwards placed Norah. They had said their last words of farewell; Norah’s had been whispered, for her heart was too full to allow her to utter them aloud. Captain Tracy took his seat in the stern-sheets. “Cast off!” he cried to the bowman. The boat dropped astern; Owen was seen standing aft and looking over the taffrail; the pilot, who had still the command, ordered the courses to be let fall, and theOuzel Galleyglided onward. As long as the boat was in sight, there stood Owen gazing at Norah and his mother, as again and again they waved. More than once the old captain turned round to take another look at the ship whose keel he had seen laid, each timber and plank of which he had carefully watched as the shipwrights had fixed them in their destined positions—that ship on the deck of which he had stood when she glided into the water for the first time, and which he had since navigated with watchful care on every voyage she had made, amid rocks and shoals, and over many a league of ocean.Mrs Massey had consented to spend a few days with Norah. Though her own heart was heavy, she knew that she could console that of the young girl, so unused to the trials of life; while the old captain himself, she saw, required cheering, and thus in benefiting others she forgot her own anxieties. The captain had out his chart: he had marked the way the wind blew, and knew to a nicety the rate at which the ship was sailing, and could thus calculate from hour to hour the exact spot on which she floated—always provided, as he observed, if the wind holds as it did when she quitted port.At length Mrs Massey returned home, and Norah settled down to her daily occupations. Norah was not free from some anxiety on her own account, for she could not forget the attempt which had been made to carry her off, or divest herself altogether of the fear that she might be subjected to a similar outrage. She therefore never ventured abroad without her father’s escort, while he at home ever kept his firearms ready for her defence. Still, as week after week went by, her hope that O’Harrall had quitted the country, and that he would not again venture to molest her, increased. She heard occasionally from Ellen, though letters were long in coming, and more than once the mail had been stopped on the road and plundered—a too frequent occurrence to be thought much of in those days.Norah, notwithstanding her fears, was unmolested. The captain had given out that if any one should venture to run off with his daughter he would not obtain a farthing of his property—a wise precaution, for it probably prevented any of the squireens in the neighbourhood from making the attempt—added to the fact, which was pretty generally known, that she was engaged to marry Owen Massey.Month after month went by. Ellen at first wrote her word that she was going much into society—more, indeed, than she liked—while she had an abundance of occupation at home in attending to her father’s household. Latterly, from her letters, she appeared to be living a more quiet life than at first. She mentioned her father, who seemed to be much out of spirits, though she could not divine the cause. She again invited Norah to come up to Dublin and help to cheer him up.“You are a great favourite of his, you know,” she wrote. “He delights in hearing you sing, and your merry laugh and conversation will do him good.”But Norah could not be induced to leave her father; besides which, she confessed to Ellen, she was looking forward in a short time to the return of theOuzel Galley, and she would be sorry if Owen should not find her at home on his arrival. Ellen, in reply, told her that theOuzel Galley, after calling at Waterford, would probably have to come on to Dublin, and she continued—“And my father, finding it necessary to go out to Jamaica, intends taking a passage in her; and I have determined to obtain leave to accompany him. I fear that he will object to my doing so, on account of the danger to which I may be exposed; but, you know, as I generally manage to have my own way, I hope to overcome his objections. The ship also will form one of a large fleet of merchantmen under convoy of two or three men-of-war, and as theOuzel Galleysails well, even should the convoy be attacked by the enemy, we shall have every chance of getting off. You must not be jealous of me, my dear Norah; indeed, I heartily wish that your father could spare you to bear me company; and I dare say that the young captain would wish the same, did he know of the proposed plan. Pray tell him of it when he comes into Waterford, and I have an idea that he will join his persuasions with mine.”This letter made Norah’s heart beat quickly. She was much surprised, too, at hearing of the intention of Mr Ferris to go out to the West Indies; but, much as she would have liked to accompany her friend, she felt that it would be impossible to leave her father.“I was afraid that things were not going on straight,” observed Captain Tracy, when she told him of the news she had received. “However, Mr Ferris is the man to set them to rights, and he’ll do it; but I wish that Miss Ellen, instead of going out with him, would come and stay here. She expects to meet the lieutenant, but he’ll be here, there, and everywhere, and she mayn’t see him all the time she is there.”Norah, in reply, told Ellen what Captain Tracy had said; but Miss Ferris had made up her mind to go if she could, and was not to be deterred from her purpose. One evening Norah was seated at the open window with her work before her, while her father occupied his usual armchair, smoking his pipe, when a rapid step was heard approaching the house. Norah uttered a cry of delight, and, hurrying to the door, the next moment was in Owen Massey’s arms.“I am glad to see you back, my lad,” cried the old captain, grasping his hand; “you’ve made a quick voyage, and a prosperous one, I hope?”“As prosperous as I could desire,” answered Owen. “We have had two or three narrow escapes from the enemy’s cruisers, but theOuzel Galleyis in good trim, and never sailed better. I heard in Waterford that I am to proceed to Dublin,” he continued; “so I paid my mother a visit, and she bade me hurry on here. I can remain but a short time, for I must be on board again early to-morrow.”“We’ll make the most of you, then, my lad,” said Captain Tracy, “and Norah looks as if she intended to do so.”She was the first to tell Owen of the intention of Mr Ferris to go out in theOuzel Galleyto Jamaica, and that Ellen had made up her mind to accompany him. “She has asked me to pay her a visit before she goes,” she added, “and I should much like to do so could I leave my father, but that I cannot do.”“Nor shall you, my girl, for I will go with you,” said the captain, who had overheard her remark. “We’ll go in theOuzel Galley—to my mind there’s less danger at sea than from those land pirates, the highwaymen—and if you can pack up your traps in time, we’ll go aboard to-morrow morning. What say you, Owen? Will you take us as passengers?”Owen expressed his pleasure at the proposal, and Norah had no doubt that she could pack up in time. Owen put aside all fears of capture by the enemy; indeed, the Channel was so well guarded by British ships of war that there was little danger, he thought, on that score. He had too much confidence in his own seamanship to think of shipwreck. After all arrangements had been made, he went back to spend the rest of the evening with his mother, while Norah and the captain, with Biddy’s help, prepared for their departure.

“News, Norah! I bring you news, Miss Ellen,” cried Gerald, rushing into the drawing-room where his sister and her friend were seated. “I have just heard that a man-of-war has brought up inside the harbour, with her main-topmast gone and her sails riddled with shot. They say that she is theChampion, and that she has had a desperate action with a French ship, which she sent to the bottom, or which got away from her. Which was the case, I can’t exactly make out, but she has lost I don’t know how many officers and seamen, for there hasn’t been such a bloody fight since the war began. The wounded, I hear, are to be sent on shore, and we shall thus, I suppose, know all about the matter.”

Ellen turned pale as Gerald was speaking. “Have you heard who the killed and wounded are?” she asked, in a trembling voice.

“No; I could only learn the name of the ship, and that there has been a sharp action there can be no doubt,” answered Gerald.

“Perhaps Gerald’s account is exaggerated,” remarked Norah, observing Ellen’s agitation. “If the ship is theChampion, Mr Ferris is sure to go down and visit her; he will ascertain the truth of the report.”

“I must—I must go and tell him what has happened, in case he should not have heard it,” said Ellen, rising. She found Mr Ferris in his counting-house, on the ground-floor. He immediately ordered his boat, and telling Ellen that, should he find any wounded officers who might require to be cared for on shore, he would bring them up, he desired her to make preparations for their reception. Gerald, who was on the look-out for him, begged that he might accompany him on board. The boat, with six stout hands, rapidly made her way down the river.

Ellen and Norah, like good housewives, lost no time in seeing the spare rooms got ready for their expected guests. The occupation tended to relieve Ellen’s mind.

“Perhaps, after all, there may be no wounded officers,” said Norah. “Gerald’s account was very vague—people nearly always exaggerate disasters.”

“But I saw the beginning of the battle, and heard the dreadful guns firing—and some of those on board may have been killed,” said Ellen, scarcely able to restrain her feelings.

The young ladies had some time to wait after the rooms had been got ready. Ellen was constantly going to the window, from which she could see the river and watch for the return of the boat. Norah, like a faithful friend, did not quit her.

“There comes the boat,” exclaimed Ellen, at length. “Oh, see, Norah! there is a person wrapped up in blankets lying in the stern-sheets; my heart told me that he would be wounded.”

“It is better so than had your heart told you he would be killed, and it had proved a true prophet,” said Norah, smiling and trying to cheer up her friend. Ellen would have hurried down to the quay, but Norah persuaded her to remain at home. “He may not be Lieutenant Foley, remember,” observed Norah, quietly; “and if he is, you are more likely to agitate him than to do him any good by rushing down to the quay. Think how odd it would look were you to exhibit your feelings in public, or, still more so, should the wounded man prove to be a stranger.”

Norah’s sensible remarks prevailed in inducing Ellen to remain quiet till the arrival of the party in the boat. Mr Ferris was the first person who appeared.

“You must not be alarmed, my dear child,” he said. “There has been a fierce engagement, in which two officers and several men were killed—”

“Oh, father, who were they?” cried Ellen.

“A master’s mate and a midshipman,” answered Mr Ferris; “but I am sorry to say that Mr Foley was among the most severely wounded, and he gladly accepted my offer to take him on shore; so I brought him up here, and you and Norah will, I am sure, do your best to look after him.”

While Mr Ferris was speaking, the men bearing the wounded lieutenant arrived. Ellen, restraining her feelings, received him with becoming propriety, though his pale lips and wan cheek made her heart sink. He was forthwith conveyed to the room which, had been prepared for him. Dr Roach, who had been an army surgeon, and knew well how to treat gunshot wounds of every description, was immediately sent for, and the young officer was placed under his charge.

“We’ll pull him through, young lady,” he observed, after he had visited his patient. “You will naturally wish to know what I think of the case of this fine young officer, who has been bleeding for his country. You need be under no serious apprehensions; he will be fit for duty again shortly. You saw how quickly I doctored up Mr Massey, in whom, if I am not wrongly informed, Miss Norah here takes an interest.”

Norah looked conscious. “Young people have hearts, and small blame to them if they fall in love now and then,” remarked the doctor; “and now, my pretty maidens, good-bye to you, for I want to hear more about the battle. I could not let my patient tell me. Remember, I leave him under your charge, but I must lay an embargo on your tongues; talking, or listening to talking, isn’t good for wounded men, though you may sing him to sleep with your sweet voices.”

Owen was well enough to accompany Mrs Massey when she returned Norah’s visit, and, moreover, to stroll with her into the garden. He now first heard of O’Harrall’s conduct; his brow flushed as she told him, but he restrained his feelings, and did not let even her know that he had assisted his rival’s escape.

“Could the fellow have been aware that she was my betrothed wife, and yet, after such conduct, ventured to claim my protection? I am thankful I did not then know of his behaviour; I might have been tempted to refuse him my aid.” Such were the thoughts which passed through Owen’s mind. “However, bold as he is, he is not likely again to appear in this neighbourhood.”

Owen and Norah, having each other’s society, forgot how the time went by, till Gerald came hurrying up to call them into the house. He had just returned from his visit to theChampion; he was full of what he had heard of her engagement with theCoquille. Two officers had been killed, and two, besides Mr Foley, wounded; three men had been killed, and several wounded. The Frenchman, instead of being sent to the bottom, having knocked away theChampion’smain-topmast and cut up her rigging, had managed to get off and run out of sight before her damages could be repaired. Captain Olding had chased in the direction theCoquillehad last been seen, but had failed to come up with her, and was compelled to steer for Waterford.

“And, do you know, Norah,” continued Gerald, “I’ve made up my mind to go on board a man-of-war. They all say that Captain Olding will take me, and place me on the quarter-deck, if Mr Ferris introduces me and would say a word in my favour; so if our father approves of it, I hope to go at once, instead of waiting for theOuzel Galley.”

“If it would better promote your fortune to serve on board a man-of-war, I will not hinder you,” said Owen, as they walked towards the house.

“I would rather you should remain on board the dear old ship, to act as Owen’s mate,” observed Norah; “but if our father allows you to go on board theChampion, neither will I try to alter your determination.”

Captain Olding had come up to the house to inquire after his lieutenant. He and Captain Tracy had been shipmates in their younger days. He was well pleased, he said, to be able to forward the views of his friend’s son. It was therefore settled that Gerald should join theChampionat once, and Norah was busy from morning till night in preparing his outfit. Captain Tracy was now able to get about, and even to superintend the repairs of theOuzel Galley. He secretly was somewhat proud of having a son belonging to the Royal Navy. It was the road to honour and fame; Gerald might some day become one of England’s admirals. Still, had the captain intended to continue at sea himself, he would have wished to keep his boy with him, and he would also gladly have had him accompany Owen Massey. Gerald himself was in high glee; he made frequent trips down to theChampion, and always came back with some fresh account of what she had done, and of what his future messmates, the midshipmen, fully expected she would do. He described them to Norah as first-rate, jolly fellows, up to all sorts of fun.

“And you may tell Miss Ferris, if you like,” he added, “that they all say there isn’t a more gallant officer in the service than Lieutenant Foley, and they hope that he’ll soon get well and rejoin the ship. They don’t speak quite so favourably of her first lieutenant, Jonah Tarwig, who seems as if he had swallowed the mizen-royal-mast as he was looking aloft one stormy night when the ship was taken aback and it was carried away. He is six feet two in height—how he manages to stow himself in his berth it is hard to say, but it is supposed that he doubles his legs back, for as to coiling away his body, that would be impossible. The master, old Billhook, is a rough diamond, but he understands navigation, and spins tough yarns by the score; I’ll tell you some of them one of these days. The purser, Simon Cheeseparings—that isn’t his real name—was a slopseller in Wapping, but outran his creditors and had to come to sea to escape from Newgate; and the doctor’s a Scotchman whose name begins with Mac, and for brevity’s sake Mac he is always called. Now you know all about the gun-room officers; but the best fellows, out and out, are in our berth. We’ve got two old mates, Beater and Crowhurst—at least, they are old compared to the rest of us, and they are always complaining that they are not port-admirals. Their characters answer to their names, for Beater is never without a cob in his hand, and he uses it pretty freely; and Crowhurst is always boasting of his own mighty deeds or those of his ancestors—and if you are to take his word for it, they (his ancestors, I mean) came over with William the Conqueror, and ought to be dukes at the least. However, putting their peculiarities aside, they’re capital fellows, and, if they have an opportunity, will show that they have the true metal in them—so my chum, Nat Kiddle, says. He doesn’t pretend to be anybody, though I can tell you he’s a broth of a boy, and it’s a pity he wasn’t an Irishman, for he’d do honour to the old country; but he happens to be the tenth son of an English farmer, whose brother was a lieutenant in the navy, and took him to sea, but his uncle having been killed at the end of the last war, Nat has to shift for himself. Though he has tumbled into a good many scrapes, he has always managed to fall on his feet. Then we’ve got a young lord, Mountstephen; he is always called Molly, but he doesn’t at all mind, and declares that he’ll some day show the Frenchmen what an English Molly can do. In reality, he is the pet of the mess—not because he’s a lord, but because he’s a very nice little fellow, who looks as if he ought to be in the nursery instead of knocking about in a sloop of war. But I don’t know, Norah, whether you’ll care to hear about the rest of us.”

“Oh yes,” answered Norah; “I am very much interested, especially in the little lord. I hope you’ll help to take care of him.”

“Yes, that you may depend on it I will,” said Gerald; “if I get into scrapes, I’ll take care he doesn’t—though I don’t intend to get into any myself, notwithstanding that they say Irishmen always do. They’ve dubbed me Paddy already, but of course I’m proud of that, and shall always stick up for old Ireland, and sing ‘Erin-go-bragh’ on all occasions. Well, I’ll tell you about the rest of our mess another day, and something about the warrant officers. We’ve three of them, the gunner, boatswain, and carpenter—and as chance will have it, the first is a Scotchman, the second an Englishman, and the third an Irishman; and though they’re mighty good friends, they are always wrangling about their respective countries, each one declaring his own to be superior to the others in every respect. Barney O’Rourke hailed me at once as a countryman, and was mighty pleased to see one young gentleman, at least, from the Emerald Isle who would stick up for our country’s honour. ‘And, by my faith, that’s what I intend to do,’ I answered—and we became sworn friends. There now, Norah, I think you know a good deal about our ship already, and when Lieutenant Foley gets about again, which I hope he’ll do in a few days, you will learn a good deal more; and when we’re away, you’ll be able to fancy me on board among my shipmates.”

Norah sighed as she thought how soon her young brother, who had never before been parted from her, would be away, with the chance of not coming back for three or four years, for theChampionhad only lately been commissioned, and might before long be sent to a foreign station. At length Captain Olding, theChampionbeing ready for sea, ordered Gerald on board to perform, duty as a midshipman. He intended, however, to return in the course of two or three weeks, expecting by that time that his second lieutenant would be sufficiently recovered to resume his duties. Norah accompanied her father and Owen down the river to wish Gerald good-bye, and to see the ship sail. She felt rather sad as the boat shoved off, when the anchor was apeak and the white canvas let fall, and the ship began to glide majestically away through the calm waters of the harbour—for, besides that she grieved to part with her young brother, the thought occurred to her that theOuzel Galleywould be the next ship she should see taking her departure from port. Owen, who was now able to be constantly with her, offered, not unsuccessfully, all the consolation in his power. Captain Tracy, being now well enough to go about, removed with her to their own cottage, situated a short distance from Waterford, and within a mile of Mrs Massey’s abode. It was a pretty spot. The cottage, with its porch covered with clematis and eglantine, stood in a good garden in which the captain delighted to work during his leisure hours. From the windows could be seen the broad, shining river and the shipping in the distance on one side, and from the other the mountainous regions to the westward. Altogether, no young lady could have desired a more romantic bower.

The captain, by his successful voyages, had been able to save a sufficient sum to live in comfort, with a handmaiden, Biddy O’Halloran, to attend on him and his daughter, and a gessoon to look after the cows and pigs and to work in the garden. Still, notwithstanding her present happiness, it was but natural that poor Norah should reflect that in a short time Owen must sail away in command of theOuzel Galley, and be subject to all the dangers of the sea, increased in war time by the chance of being captured by the enemy. He and her father were now absent all day long, attending to the fitting out of the ship, which was making rapid progress. Her owners had decided on sending her back to the West Indies, and Owen assured Norah that, as he should probably find a cargo waiting for him, he should not be long absent. She paid frequent visits to Ellen, who could heartily sympathise with her. Lieutenant Foley had entirely recovered from his wound, and would have to rejoin theChampionas soon as she arrived in the harbour, in which she was every day expected. Norah thought that the lieutenant deserved all the praises bestowed on him by Gerald, though of course he was not equal, in her estimation, to Owen. Still, she could not be surprised that her friend had given him her heart, especially as he had owned that he had given his to Ellen; and they were now regularly betrothed with the full approval of Mr Ferris, and were to marry as soon as Mr Foley had obtained the rank of commander.

The days and weeks went rapidly by. Mr Ferris intended, as soon as Lieutenant Foley had joined his ship, to return with his daughter to Dublin. This would be a great loss to Norah, as she was acquainted with but few other young ladies in the neighbourhood; indeed, from having been at school with Ellen, they were more like sisters than ordinary friends. Ellen had begged that she would visit her in Dublin, but she could not leave her father, and still less did she wish to quit Waterford till theOuzel Galleyhad sailed; after that, she felt that she should have no spirit to enjoy the gay society of the metropolis, even should her father insist on her accepting Ellen’s invitation.

The arrival of theChampionwas announced at last by Gerald, who early one morning rushed into the house.

“We came in last night, and are to sail again this evening, so I obtained leave to run up to see you,” cried Gerald. “I’ve got lots to tell you,” he continued, after he had exchanged greetings with his father and sister, and was seated at the breakfast-table. “We haven’t had any actual fight, but we’ve taken several prizes, one of them, as big as theChampion, cut out in gallant style. She was seen at anchor in Saint Martin’s Roads, and the captain determined to have her. We stood away, and the Frenchman must have supposed we had gone; but at night, when it was very dark, we stood back again. Three boats were then lowered, and I had the good luck to be sent in one of them. We at once pulled away for the roads with muffled oars. There lay the ship right ahead of us; we could just see her masts against the sky. The Frenchmen must have been all asleep, or keeping a very bad look-out, for we were alongside and our fellows almost on her deck before we were discovered. The Frenchmen, thus taken by surprise, made but a very feeble resistance, and though a few of them were knocked over, we didn’t lose a man. The cable was cut and the topsails sheeted home before the fort began to fire, and as the wind was off shore, we got out of range with very little damage. We earned our prize into Plymouth, and our captain, I believe, gained some credit for his exploit; though except that he designed it, he took no part, for old Tarwig commanded one boat, and the master, Billhook, another, and one of our mates and I went in the third. Had half of us been killed, I suppose more would have been thought of the affair. While at Plymouth we heard from the bumboat women, who have always the most correct intelligence, that we were to be sent to the West Indies, and we soon found that they were right; but the captain got leave to come in here first, to take Lieutenant Foley on board, and to obtain fresh provisions; so I shall be visiting the old scenes again, and, I hope, fall in with Owen. That will be good fun; perhaps we shall have to convoy him home, or maybe, should theOuzel Galleyfall into the hands of the enemy, retake the ship. Faith, shouldn’t I be delighted.”

“Oh, don’t talk of such a dreadful thing!” exclaimed Norah. “I hope that you may have to convoy him home, and that we may see you both back here in five or six months.”

Gerald could stay but a very short time, as he had been ordered to return on board with Lieutenant Foley. Norah and Captain Tracy accompanied him into Waterford. They found the lieutenant ready to start, and Norah remained with Ellen, who had just taken farewell of her intended husband. Owen, having joined the captain and Norah, went down to the quay to see Gerald off.

“We shall meet, I hope, soon, Owen,” said the young midshipman. “I feel half ashamed of myself for deserting you; but if you knew the life we lead on board theChampion, you wouldn’t be surprised at my preferring her to the dear oldGalley.”

“The time may come when you may think differently. But good-bye, my lad; I hope you will enjoy yourself and come back safe,” answered Owen, as Gerald sprang on board.

The lieutenant gazed with eager eyes towards the windows of the large house overlooking the river, where he could see a white handkerchief waving to him. Two or three more years might pass before he could again press the hand lately clasped in his, and it was a hard matter for him just then to keep up his spirits. Soon after the boat returned on board, the anchor was hove up, and theChampion, under all sail, stood to the south-west.

In the evening Mr Ferris desired to see Owen. “My partners and I have given you charge of theOuzel Galley, Captain Massey, and we trust that you will be as devoted to our interests as your predecessor has been,” he said, giving Owen for the first time the title of captain. “Having undergone a thorough refit, we hope that she will require no fresh repairs for some time to come. We intend to insure her among our friends in Dublin, and they, knowing her good qualities and your careful character, would be ready to underwrite her at a moderate premium considering the war risk.”

“You may rely on my taking the best care I possibly can of the ship,” answered Owen, “and, as she has (I may say it without fear) a fair pair of heels, on my keeping clear of every enemy I may sight.”

“That is what we wish, Mr Massey,” said Mr Ferris. “We don’t want men who will run their noses into danger; and true courage and seamanship will best be shown in your case by cleverly escaping from your foes. You will get the ship ready for sea as soon as possible, and take your cargo on board, and we will then send you further directions from Dublin.”

Owen took leave of his employer and returned home. The next day Mr Ferris, accompanied by Ellen, proceeded to Dublin.

Norah’s day of trial came at length. She ought not to have complained, as she had enjoyed Owen’s society for some months. TheOuzel Galleyhaving shipped her cargo, chiefly of salt provisions, and other produce of the fertile south of Ireland, hauled out into the stream. Her old captain, with Norah and Mrs Massey, went on board to bid farewell to Owen, and proceeded down the river till she had crossed the bar, when Captain Tracy took Owen by the hand.

“Heaven speed you, my boy!” he said. “May He who guarded me through the many dangers of the ocean take care of you, and bring you back in safety to those who will ever give you a loving welcome! And now, the shorter you cut the parting with those two the better.”

Mrs Massey saw that the time had come; she threw her amis round the young captain’s neck, and asked God again and again to protect him. Then she let Norah take her place, while Captain Tracy helped her down into the boat alongside, in which Owen soon afterwards placed Norah. They had said their last words of farewell; Norah’s had been whispered, for her heart was too full to allow her to utter them aloud. Captain Tracy took his seat in the stern-sheets. “Cast off!” he cried to the bowman. The boat dropped astern; Owen was seen standing aft and looking over the taffrail; the pilot, who had still the command, ordered the courses to be let fall, and theOuzel Galleyglided onward. As long as the boat was in sight, there stood Owen gazing at Norah and his mother, as again and again they waved. More than once the old captain turned round to take another look at the ship whose keel he had seen laid, each timber and plank of which he had carefully watched as the shipwrights had fixed them in their destined positions—that ship on the deck of which he had stood when she glided into the water for the first time, and which he had since navigated with watchful care on every voyage she had made, amid rocks and shoals, and over many a league of ocean.

Mrs Massey had consented to spend a few days with Norah. Though her own heart was heavy, she knew that she could console that of the young girl, so unused to the trials of life; while the old captain himself, she saw, required cheering, and thus in benefiting others she forgot her own anxieties. The captain had out his chart: he had marked the way the wind blew, and knew to a nicety the rate at which the ship was sailing, and could thus calculate from hour to hour the exact spot on which she floated—always provided, as he observed, if the wind holds as it did when she quitted port.

At length Mrs Massey returned home, and Norah settled down to her daily occupations. Norah was not free from some anxiety on her own account, for she could not forget the attempt which had been made to carry her off, or divest herself altogether of the fear that she might be subjected to a similar outrage. She therefore never ventured abroad without her father’s escort, while he at home ever kept his firearms ready for her defence. Still, as week after week went by, her hope that O’Harrall had quitted the country, and that he would not again venture to molest her, increased. She heard occasionally from Ellen, though letters were long in coming, and more than once the mail had been stopped on the road and plundered—a too frequent occurrence to be thought much of in those days.

Norah, notwithstanding her fears, was unmolested. The captain had given out that if any one should venture to run off with his daughter he would not obtain a farthing of his property—a wise precaution, for it probably prevented any of the squireens in the neighbourhood from making the attempt—added to the fact, which was pretty generally known, that she was engaged to marry Owen Massey.

Month after month went by. Ellen at first wrote her word that she was going much into society—more, indeed, than she liked—while she had an abundance of occupation at home in attending to her father’s household. Latterly, from her letters, she appeared to be living a more quiet life than at first. She mentioned her father, who seemed to be much out of spirits, though she could not divine the cause. She again invited Norah to come up to Dublin and help to cheer him up.

“You are a great favourite of his, you know,” she wrote. “He delights in hearing you sing, and your merry laugh and conversation will do him good.”

But Norah could not be induced to leave her father; besides which, she confessed to Ellen, she was looking forward in a short time to the return of theOuzel Galley, and she would be sorry if Owen should not find her at home on his arrival. Ellen, in reply, told her that theOuzel Galley, after calling at Waterford, would probably have to come on to Dublin, and she continued—“And my father, finding it necessary to go out to Jamaica, intends taking a passage in her; and I have determined to obtain leave to accompany him. I fear that he will object to my doing so, on account of the danger to which I may be exposed; but, you know, as I generally manage to have my own way, I hope to overcome his objections. The ship also will form one of a large fleet of merchantmen under convoy of two or three men-of-war, and as theOuzel Galleysails well, even should the convoy be attacked by the enemy, we shall have every chance of getting off. You must not be jealous of me, my dear Norah; indeed, I heartily wish that your father could spare you to bear me company; and I dare say that the young captain would wish the same, did he know of the proposed plan. Pray tell him of it when he comes into Waterford, and I have an idea that he will join his persuasions with mine.”

This letter made Norah’s heart beat quickly. She was much surprised, too, at hearing of the intention of Mr Ferris to go out to the West Indies; but, much as she would have liked to accompany her friend, she felt that it would be impossible to leave her father.

“I was afraid that things were not going on straight,” observed Captain Tracy, when she told him of the news she had received. “However, Mr Ferris is the man to set them to rights, and he’ll do it; but I wish that Miss Ellen, instead of going out with him, would come and stay here. She expects to meet the lieutenant, but he’ll be here, there, and everywhere, and she mayn’t see him all the time she is there.”

Norah, in reply, told Ellen what Captain Tracy had said; but Miss Ferris had made up her mind to go if she could, and was not to be deterred from her purpose. One evening Norah was seated at the open window with her work before her, while her father occupied his usual armchair, smoking his pipe, when a rapid step was heard approaching the house. Norah uttered a cry of delight, and, hurrying to the door, the next moment was in Owen Massey’s arms.

“I am glad to see you back, my lad,” cried the old captain, grasping his hand; “you’ve made a quick voyage, and a prosperous one, I hope?”

“As prosperous as I could desire,” answered Owen. “We have had two or three narrow escapes from the enemy’s cruisers, but theOuzel Galleyis in good trim, and never sailed better. I heard in Waterford that I am to proceed to Dublin,” he continued; “so I paid my mother a visit, and she bade me hurry on here. I can remain but a short time, for I must be on board again early to-morrow.”

“We’ll make the most of you, then, my lad,” said Captain Tracy, “and Norah looks as if she intended to do so.”

She was the first to tell Owen of the intention of Mr Ferris to go out in theOuzel Galleyto Jamaica, and that Ellen had made up her mind to accompany him. “She has asked me to pay her a visit before she goes,” she added, “and I should much like to do so could I leave my father, but that I cannot do.”

“Nor shall you, my girl, for I will go with you,” said the captain, who had overheard her remark. “We’ll go in theOuzel Galley—to my mind there’s less danger at sea than from those land pirates, the highwaymen—and if you can pack up your traps in time, we’ll go aboard to-morrow morning. What say you, Owen? Will you take us as passengers?”

Owen expressed his pleasure at the proposal, and Norah had no doubt that she could pack up in time. Owen put aside all fears of capture by the enemy; indeed, the Channel was so well guarded by British ships of war that there was little danger, he thought, on that score. He had too much confidence in his own seamanship to think of shipwreck. After all arrangements had been made, he went back to spend the rest of the evening with his mother, while Norah and the captain, with Biddy’s help, prepared for their departure.

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