I i 
 

D A R I E N, 
 
 THE MEECHANT PEINCE. 
 
 BY 
 
 ELIOT WARBURTON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS, 
 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHEES, 
 
 SUCCESSOES TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 PZ 
 
TO 
 MY FRIENDS ON 
 
 TWEED AND YARROW; 
 
 Cjns Mmi is Jnsmhfc 
 
 IN GRATEFUL MEMORY OF A SUMMER PASSED 
 
 IN THEIE EENOWKED AND HOSPITABLE BORDEE-LAND, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
6 TO THE EDITOR. 
 
 vow, and gave me an opportunity of performing it. That 
 is, if I can venture to say that I have performed it. 
 
 For when I consider the uncalled-for attentions that I 
 have paid to grouse, partridges, and the salmonida3, during 
 the past autumn, and when I contemplate the immense 
 mass of documents I have had to arrange, and the wide 
 and tangled series of events from which I have endea 
 voured to elicit something like a consistent story, I feel 
 how much I must trust to the courteous reader's in 
 dulgence, and to the keen critic's generous forbearance. 
 I can only hope to obtain from the kindest of both these 
 classes the fiat of my highland friend concerning my per 
 formance, " I am a plain man, and I plainly tell you, I 
 wad I had placed my material in abler hands ; but I am 
 sure you have writ honestly and dune your best." 
 
 With this ambiguous apology for many errors, I take my 
 leave, and remain, dear Mr. Editor, 
 
 Yours as of old, 
 
 VIATOR. 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 The wanderer then resolved 
 To pass the remnant of his days untask'd 
 With needless services, from hardship free. 
 His calling laid aside, he lived at ease. 
 
 * Vigorous in health, of hopeful spirits, undamp'd 
 By worldly-mindedness or cank'rous care ; 
 Observant, studious, thoughtful, and refresh'd 
 By knowledge gather'd up from day to day. 
 
 WOEDSWOETH. 
 
 LIETJTEKAKT M' GEE GOB served for many years in a gallant 
 highland regiment. He had followed the colours over the 
 world, and seen Australia's sun shining on their honoured 
 emblazonry at the moment when " the lassie that he lo'ed " 
 was nestling on her midnight pillow in Old Scotland. She 
 slept more calmly, in a narrower bed, before her highlander 
 returned to claim her for his bride. Meanwhile, he had 
 had his triumphs in the field, and had risen from the ranks 
 on glory's crimson steps to the eminence of lieutenancy. 
 But his dearly-won honours had been so associated with 
 his dead love, that all their value seemed buried in her 
 grave. He sold his commission; and in resuming the 
 dress of a civilian he resumed also his native dialect, which 
 had been long painfully suppressed at the mess-table. ^ The 
 purchase of an annuity with the produce of his commission 
 secured to him an ample supply for all his simple wants, 
 and left him besides a wide margin for the charities in 
 which his brave old heart delighted. 
 
 Among strangers who might arrogate superiority, the 
 veteran assumed a sort of defensive stiffness of demeanour, 
 but to those of humbler manner or condition he was ex 
 ceedingly urbane and gentle. As he sat at the doors of 
 the inns (in which he passed most of his life when away 
 from the highlands), children would instinctively draw 
 
8 INTEODTJCTORY CHAPTEE. 
 
 near to him and climb his knee. To him the house-dog 
 would first apply for scraps at dinner, however numerous 
 the guests. Him the landlady never overcharged, and the 
 chambermaid always gave a pleased look at parting, how 
 ever moderate her guerdon. During his thirty years of 
 service, all his relatives and old friends had died ; he was 
 alone in the world, but he seemed to diffuse amongst man 
 kind the native kindliness which no family ties remained 
 to claim. The lieutenant took up his head-quarters in the 
 old cottage where he was born. His kind chief had allowed 
 him to purchase its humble walls, and adjoining heath- 
 covered hill, for a mere nominal sum ; and he was thus 
 enabled to consider himself as one of the few landed pro 
 prietors in his county. A few score pounds repaired and 
 furnished his cottage, and fenced in his garden on two 
 sides, the remaining two being otherwise guarded, one 
 by the cottage and its steading, the other by the mountain 
 stream. A bed and chair, and small table, with a shaving- 
 glass, about the size of a watch, hung up against the win 
 dow-shutter, composed his chamber furniture. A couple 
 of chairs, a small round oak table, and a glass cupboard 
 containing stuffed birds and foreign fishes, sufficed for his 
 sitting-room. In the recesses on each side the fire-place 
 were two sets of shelves ; one of these contained a Bible, 
 whose leaves looked like old bank-notes, so thumbed and 
 thin were they ; not only for the sake of the Divine words 
 they bore, but for that of his old mother, whose parting 
 gift long ago had been this treasured volume. In this old 
 book's good company were about a dozen other volumes, 
 such as " The Pilgrim's Progress," " The Christian War 
 rior," and "The Lives of Scottish "Worthies." Over the 
 fire-place hung an old musket, and a claymore with which 
 his grandfather had hewn his way through Sassenachs from 
 the battle of Culloden; that claymore was the veteran's 
 only heir-loom, except an old chest full of older papers. 
 On the wall opposite the fire were suspended two fishing- 
 rods, dingy in hue, but in the best condition. The chest, 
 with huge iron hasps and a padlock, stood in the only 
 window, and with the addition of a few bottles, pewter 
 plates and dishes, and such like necessaries, completed the 
 inventory of the highlander's household goods. 
 
 In this "Ebenezer," as he called it, Lieutenant M'Gregor 
 
IKTEODUCTOEY CITAPTEB. 9 
 
 had made his residence for about twelve months after he 
 had abandoned military life. During that time, while he 
 employed himself in repairing and embellishing the cottage 
 that would have been his wedded home, (for his Effie too 
 had belonged to humble life,) he mourned as a widower. 
 On Sunday, he walked more than a Sabbath-day's journey 
 to the kirk which she had used to attend, and when service 
 was ended, he \vould sit him down for an hour by the grassy 
 grave, and rest where all that was mortal of his lost love 
 rested too. 
 
 After his year's mourning, he wandered away from his 
 cottage ; and this habit, once begun, was never abandoned. 
 Every autumn, however, when the anniversary of his lost 
 Effie's death returned, he also returned to his native hills, 
 and for a month or two pursued, in public, such sport as the 
 stream and loch yield to the angler ; in private, Heaven 
 only and he knew how he occupied himself in his lonely 
 shieling. 
 
 The veteran was about sixty when I first became ac 
 quainted with him. His appearance afforded an illustration 
 of his life, strongly marked like everything else about him. 
 His military bearing, which he could not quite disguise, 
 added to a naturally commanding height. His hair was 
 partially gray, some parts of it being quite white, whilst 
 other parts were scarcely grizzled. His hat was of a fashion 
 peculiar to himself ; as one may often observe how singularly 
 hats do seem to adapt themselves to the wearers' character: 
 it had a low crown and a very broad brim ; but so far was it 
 from the slouch generally attendant on such configuration, 
 that it betokened, by its rigidity, a vivid recollection of 
 having served under the D uke of Kent's rectangular regime. 
 A shooting-jacket of dark velveteen, with a waistcoat of 
 Sutherland tartan, bottle-coloured breeches, and long gaiters, 
 formed his dress invariably, except on Sundays : then a 
 formal suit of black became him well, and transformed him 
 into the likeness of a minister with an easy benefice, or 
 rather, perhaps, of a military chaplain. Such w r as M'Gre- 
 gor's costume in England and in the lowlands; in the 
 highlands he always wore his native kilted garb. 
 
 It was during one of his autumnal visits to his highland 
 home, that I made the acquaintance of this personage. I 
 had been fishing in one of the fine mountain lochs in Suther- 
 
10 rNTBODUCTOEY CHAPTEE. 
 
 landshire; but the day becoming too calm and bright for 
 the still water, I resolved to follow the stream that flowed 
 from it, and to take up my night's quarters at some village, 
 that was sure to occur by such a stream in the vale below. 
 
 As I was descending the mountain, casting my line care 
 lessly from time to time, I came unexpectedly upon a pool, 
 in which the stream seemed to rest itself before proceeding 
 in its hasty descent. As I moved round this water, to get 
 advantage of the wind, a small cottage caught iny eye. It 
 had an appearance of trimness and care that contrasted 
 curiously with the wild scenery in which it lay. All round 
 were heathy hills, piled in wave-like confusion, and varied 
 only by three or four small tarns, flashing like gold amid 
 the dark purple heather : while on the north, the mountains 
 towered upward to Ben Crurig ; to the south, they fell away 
 into a range of lesser hills that excluded all view of the 
 wide vale beyond. The cottage walls and porch were 
 covered with some hardy parasite, trained by no woman's 
 hand or taste, for its branches stuck out stiffly and formally, 
 like a standard pear-tree. The little garden exhibited the 
 same formal and precise taste, if taste it could be called. 
 The beds lay in hollow squares ; columns of vegetables, and 
 platoons of gooseberries, occupied the centre ; three or four 
 apple-trees stood for picquets, and the whole party, with the 
 exception of an awkward squad of cabbages, seemed to stand 
 at " 'tention." 
 
 I perceived at once that the tempting-looking pool had 
 been artificially formed ; so reeling up my line, I proceeded 
 below the little hermitage, where I might feel free of tres 
 pass. I could not help turning round to examine the 
 cottage again, however. Close by, the pool foamed over its 
 artificial obstruction in a pretty cascade, and then ran 
 smoothly by the garden. The bed of the stream was 
 planted with the broad-leaved water-weed that fishes love, 
 and the water seemed literally alive with trout. They were 
 so tame, that, as I walked along the bank, they remained 
 playing on the surface, forming there a coruscation of purple, 
 and brown, and gold, beautiful to look upon. A few hun 
 dred yards lower down the stream was another small but 
 deep pool of great promise, and my fly had scarcely fallen 
 upon its surface, when all my attention was concentrated 
 on a mighty fish, " the monarch of the brook," which was 
 
INTKODTJCTORY CHAPTEE. 11 
 
 bending my rod to the butt, and lashing the water into 
 foam with his broad tail. While I looked about with some 
 perplexity, (for the banks were all steep, and the outlet 
 from the pool was by a precipitous fall,) I heard a deep, 
 earnest voice behind me exclaiming, " Haud him gently ; 
 he's but lightly heukit ; now draw his head doon stream, 
 and ye maun e'en try the fa' wi' him. Weel dune ! Now 
 ye hae clear water and fair play, the twa o' ye. Now fish 
 now man ! " the voice continued, half mocking, half in 
 earnest : " Weel loupit speckleback ! I thought ye had brak 
 his hand. Weel humoured, stranger ; ye hae a gentle hand. 
 It's a' up wi' him now ; slant him intill the gravel." As he 
 spoke, I drew my exhausted prize softly on a shallow, where 
 it was instantly seized in the nervous grip of a large bony 
 hand, and the next moment lay panting on the heath. I 
 had now time to look round, and I beheld Lieutenant 
 M'Gregor, even such as I have attempted to describe him. 
 His attention was fixed upon the fish, whose beauty and 
 high condition he was well able to appreciate. 
 
 " I kenn't him weel/ 1 he soliloquized ; " but I didna 
 think he was sae big. Pour pund an' mair ! The best 
 troot I hae seen the season. I thought at first he was a 
 fish." * 
 
 A less interesting incident than this would have served 
 for an introduction to a Scot's hospitality in any part of the 
 world, much more upon his native mountain, in the sight of 
 his home. Before long I was seated in the cottage, my 
 large trout smoking on a pewter platter, flanked by a dish 
 of broiled grouse, and a bowl of mealy potatoes, that Tip- 
 perary might envy. We applied ourselves to these dishes 
 with so exemplary an appetite that we talked but little. 
 After a while, however, the eatables were transferred to an 
 old crone, who lived in a sort of back kitchen, and formed 
 my new friend's sole establishment. Then with a gusto, in 
 itself a provocative to thirst, M'Gregor mixed a bowl of 
 whiskey punch, of such flavour and potency, that our inti 
 macy grew therefrom with wonderful rapidity. Before that 
 bowl was finished, we were deep in each other's confidence ; 
 and so far from displaying what is called national reserve, 
 my host had told me almost as much about himself as I 
 
 * In Scotland salmon are fish par excellence : the inferior members of 
 the salmon tribe are merely trout, &c. 
 
12 I1S T TRODIICTOET CHAPTER. 
 
 have ever learned since. Indeed, his heart was unusually 
 open ; I believe it was the first time that he had ever enter 
 tained a stranger under his own roof-tree, and that was an 
 exciting sensation: he was proud of my praise of his 
 mountain and his favourite stream ; he had been long living 
 quite alone, and, added to all this, the punch was strong, 
 and his general habits were abstemious. For these reasons, 
 it was with some difficulty that I escaped a second bowl of 
 the glowing G-lenlivet; but I found it quite impossible to 
 refuse remaining in the cottage that night. I had some 
 misgivings as to my host having to sleep on his parlour- 
 kitchen floor, but into that arrangement I thought it was 
 better not to inquire too closely. 
 
 The highlander then proposed we should take a stroll 
 upon the mountain, and see the sun setting, " which," he 
 observed, " was gay glorious in thae pairts, wJian ye coud 
 see it;" for he admitted that even at noon-day the sun was 
 rather a phenomenon in that land of mist. 
 
 " But then, ye see," he added, with a sportsman's apology 
 for his climate, "the saumonts are na ower fond of het 
 water, and the less sun, the mair saumont a gude ex 
 change ; to say naething o' the grouse and ptarmigan and 
 deer, that lo'es the mysteries o' gloomy hills as well as 
 Ossian himsel'." 
 
 So saying, my host led the way along the brow of his own 
 pathless hill at a pace that taxed my best energies, as well 
 as vanity, to keep up with. I had no breath to spare for 
 conversation, but the highlander continued to speak with a 
 volubility to which, in after times, I looked back with sur 
 prise ; his general habit in the lowlands being silent and 
 sententious. But he had now a guest of his own to talk to, 
 and a stranger to enlighten. 
 
 He b&lted on a hillock about half a mile from the cottage ; 
 it appeared to be a mound of loose stones, and was vividly 
 green with long grass and nettles, though all round, as far 
 as we could see, was purple heath. I soon discovered that 
 it was the base of some ruined tower, the rest of which had 
 fallen in small fragments into the precipice which yawned 
 on two sides of the spot that we occupied. I observed to 
 him that it was a strong position. 
 
 " Aye !" exclaimed my host, proudly ; " it's pritty strong, 
 and it's a' my ain, frae here till the cabin, and a bit ayont. 
 
rffTEODUCTORY CHAPTER. 13 
 
 A' my ain ; and purchased by the sweat and bluid of this 
 puir body, and by the gude will of Providence and my lord 
 duke. 
 
 " It's no unlike the fortunes o' my family," he added, 
 after a pause; "beginning wi' this braw castle," (he 
 stamped his foot upon the mouldering ruins, and no doubt 
 in imagination saw stately towers as aspiring as the senti 
 ment that kindled in his eyes,) " beginning wi' this castle, 
 whar my forefathers wonned lang syne, and just ending wi' 
 the puir cottage that has sheltered my mither when a bride, 
 and her son's gray hairs when a worn-out auld soger." 
 
 I wish I could convey a picture of the fine old man, as 
 his form, cast in the largest heroic mould, stood flushed 
 with the setting sunlight, and distended by the proud 
 thoughts that those crumbling stones had conjured up. He 
 gazed long and silently upon the glorious landscape spread 
 iar and wide beneath us ; and then his countenance gra 
 dually assumed a softer expression, as his pride of blood 
 passe'd away and became merged in admiration of the 
 splendid view that filled his eyes. 
 
 " Behold!" he exclaimed, in a voice from which passion, 
 and, strange to say, almost all national accent was banished; 
 " behold how the sun, the apostle of light, is sinking softly 
 and meekly, though crowned with preternatural glory, into 
 the crimsoned sea. His light is shining not for himself, 
 but for the earth, so darksome and so dead without his 
 rays. Behold how many a loch and mountain gleam and 
 gloom through the evening mist, as sunset invests them 
 with rich gold and purple ! Now he is gone ; deep masses 
 of indistinct shadow close over the silvering sea : and now, 
 bnt for the rosy light that lingers on the sky and on Ben 
 Laighal's brow, no trace remains of the Life-giver the 
 Creator's delegate. He is gone ; yet nature mourns him not ; 
 earth and ocean, man, bird, beast, and insect, secure in the 
 faith that he will rise to-morrow ; rise, with all his infinite 
 effects, at the very moment which, if delayed, would cost 
 the life of myriad myriads of rejoicing creatures. How 
 weak and faltering is our voluntary faith compared with 
 that which is instinctive ! Yet is the moral sequence of 
 events as consistent and as certain as those of night and 
 day. Rebellious children as we are, we love, like our first 
 parents, to stake the chances of sma' events against the 
 
14 ISTTEODTJCTOBY CHAPTER. 
 
 certainty of great ones. The devil takes care to keep the 
 bad chances just alive, but how greatly we are losers in the 
 long run, we hourly feel and shall feel far more when this 
 life at the last shall thus close over us." 
 
 The highlander became silent, and his eyes fell from their 
 elevated gaze upon the ruins of the tower at his feet. He 
 almost seemed to spurn them, as he turned and strode 
 away across the darkening heath. The various hues of 
 his tartan were now blended into one deep shade, and the 
 stately form of the man looked colossal, relieved against 
 the evening sky. 
 
 Neither of us spoke until we re-entered the cottage, 
 which looked dark and dreary enough. The old crone, who 
 alone served my host, returned every afternoon before the 
 hour of warlocks to her own shieling, two miles away ; and 
 the silence and loneliness to which my highland friend had 
 to retire each evening struck me as almost appalling. But 
 custom and his own native hardihood of soul, rendered him 
 indifferent to such things. "With ready hands he now 
 lighted a fire of peat, which soon blazed up cheerily, 
 diffusing light and warmth, and a chuckling, well-pleased 
 sort of sound, that contrasted charmingly with the outer 
 cold and darkness, and the wailing of the wind over the 
 mountain ; for the ruder the shelter the more one appre 
 ciates it. The highlander did not trouble himself to lay a 
 cloth on his deal table, but it was soon otherwise covered 
 with a stout piece of cheese, barley bannocks, fresh butter, 
 sugar, drinking-horns, a corpulent blue bottle, and an empty 
 jug, ornamented with a portrait of the Duke of Sutherland. 
 
 In making all these hospitable little preparations, my 
 host displayed almost boyish activity and zeal, talking at 
 the same time, volubly in his northern dialect so that I 
 could scarcely reconcile him to my imagination as the same 
 person whose solemn mien and sonorous words had im 
 pressed me on the mountain side. 
 
 " Dinna fash yoursel','' he exclaimed, as I tried to assist 
 in boiling the kettle, " wi' thae things. Youth wad aye be 
 trying to make water ower het, like itsel', afore its time ; 
 maist likely spiling baith. Ow ! if inanimate things war as 
 wayward and capricious as human minds, the warld wad na 
 long hand thegither. If I expose water to a certain heat, 
 it 'ill bile ; if I let a stane drap, it will ta' straight ; if I 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 15 
 
 plant a kail it will grow (wi' Divine permission) ; but if I 
 say to purr human natur' (my neebor' or my ain seP), 
 ' Come, do me this justice;' or ' Mee that temptation;' or 
 even ' Walk straight to your ain desire,' it's lang odds if 
 my bidding's dune. A thousand sheep wi' ae impulse will 
 seek shelter frae a coming storm, and ten thousand fish 
 will migrate to the saut water wi' ae mind ; but pit a 
 thousand, or a hundred, or ten, o' human kind, to do a 
 business thegither, and they'll tak' every ane a different 
 counsel ; if there be not ane strong mind, or ane strong 
 will among 'em, to drive the ithers afore him his ain gait. 
 I could tell a waeful story o' the consequence o' sic rebel 
 lious spirit, that ruined my fathers, and me, and mony a 
 man else, and well nigh all Scotland beside, far awa', ower 
 in America." 
 
 So spoke my host, with a volubility almost uninterrupted 
 even by his supper. When that simple -meal was ended, 
 and our respective horns of toddy were steaming before us, 
 I begged the highlander to tell me the "waeful story" he 
 had alluded to. He waved his hand deprecatingly, and 
 replied : 
 
 " Na, na ! its ower lang a tale for the e'enin. It's a 
 buikful ; and I wad hae ye see the sun rise, since ye joyed 
 to see him set ; and the morn will be clear ; sae we'll jist 
 hae a crack about ane anither, and gang to our resting." 
 
 To all this I gladly acceded, especially as my own brief 
 story afforded little but a blank, and I was anxious to learn 
 something of my singular host ; who at one time declaimed 
 in plain English, though somewhat grandiloquent ; and at 
 others spoke like a native shepherd. I therefore filled my 
 glass, told my tale, and cautiously sipped my toddy, while 
 my stalwart friend swallowed his vehemently. When I 
 wound up five minutes' biography with the events of the 
 day, and the motive that had led me to Ben Laighal, 
 namely, a desire to see something of true highland scenery, 
 and, if possible, of true highland life, he took up the dis 
 course : 
 
 " For hieland life, it's simple eneugh in externals. A 
 childhood o' laneliness, and sma' share o' delights but what 
 the happy heart finds in heaven abuve and earth beneath, 
 as G-od made them ; wi' the stars, and the flowers, and the 
 burnie : and then, a manhood o' sma' hope, and muckle 
 
16 INTEODTJCTOEY CHAPTER. 
 
 hardship, whiles lichtened now and then wi' a happening 
 shot at a deer, or a warstle wi' a saumont (but there's little 
 o' that now) ; and an auld age o' sma' creatur' comforts, 
 but kindly reverence, and siclike cherishing as the puir can 
 gie. But if he wad ken the inner life o' a hieland man, ye 
 must e'en live it ; and therefore, no Sassenach man can. 
 ever ken what is joy and what is sorrow in the mountain 
 shielin'. 'The heart' there, as well as in the land o' the 
 patriarchs, ' kens its ain bitterness, and nae stranger inter- 
 meddleth wi' its joy.' " 
 
 " But," I objected, " such a life cannot have been yours. 
 You speak and act like a man of cultivation and experience 
 in the world." 
 
 "Aye do I?" rejoined my highlander, not displeased. 
 ""Weel, weel, I was born, though not bred, a gentle 
 man ; and as far as my sma' light enabled me, I never 
 wranged my gentle bluid. My great grandsire was a laird 
 in thae pairts ; and his, and his father's, was the auld house 
 I showed ye the e'en. Though there's no eneugh left o' 
 it now for a corbie craw to nest in, it was ance braw and 
 big, as my father tauld me ; and I culd tell ye the very 
 boundaries o' the court and kail yard, and whar we keepit 
 the kye afore sheep was ever seen on these hills, driviii' 
 awa' the red deer wi' their ghastly bleatings, and their 
 pale faces. 
 
 " Weel, my great grandsire now and then, as I think just 
 for diversion, took a drove or two of his mountain cattle 
 to the Lowlands, and o'er the Borders ; and in ane o' his 
 wanderings, he took to wife a Graeme o' Trailflatt, wha was 
 cousin to the famous Paterson. Just then, Scotland was 
 all a flame wi' the colonization o' Darien in America, and 
 my great grandsire, like the rest, caught fire at the scheme, 
 and pit the whole heart of his fortin' till it. I dinna blame 
 him though, for he meant weel, and it was a grand thought, 
 and wad hae glorified auld Scotland amang the nations, and 
 hae filled our sporrans wi' glide gold beside. But it was 
 not sae to be. The Disposer willed otherwise, and my 
 
 freat grandsire and many others was ruined ; and though I 
 ae nae doot his heart was a teugh ane, they say it clean brak' 
 when he had to give up possession of his auld house, and 
 saw the stranger's kye driven on till his native hills. His 
 son listed for a soger, but took the other side in Forty-five, 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 17 
 
 and focht his way out of Culloden only to die, leaving my 
 father a mere bairn; he wandered homewards till the 
 hielands, and fand the auld house in ruins, and the hill-side 
 as bare as it was at creation ; but he got leave to build this 
 bit shieling, which I had the gude fortin' to buy clean out, 
 wit' the hill-side, when I gave up the army. I sell't my pen 
 sion to buy it, though I might have rented it at a mere trifle." 
 
 [The rest of my host's little history I have already nar 
 rated. It was only by slow degrees that I learned more 
 than he had at first thus told me.] 
 
 " But now ; it's time to gang to rest, to be awake be- 
 time ; and, it it's no' displeasing, we'll jist read a composing 
 chapter of the guid Buik, and gang thankfully to rest." 
 
 So saying, the Highlander took down the well-worn Bible 
 from its shelf, and, after a few minutes' thoughtful silence, 
 he read the beautiful twenty-seventh Psalm in a deep and 
 solemn voice that showed how truly his unsophisticated 
 heart appreciated those ancient, but ever applicable words. 
 "When he had done, he began, unconsciously, as it seemed, 
 to "improve upon it," after the Presbyterian fashion; and 
 it was impossible not to feel touched by his earnest and 
 solemn mode of treating his subject. Somewhat too meta 
 phorical it might be ; but his style of illustration was bor 
 rowed from the book he had most studied ; and what struck 
 me as remarkable, his native dialect was for the most part 
 laid aside during his lecture. 
 
 The next morning, long before sunrise, we were wading 
 through the mountain heather ; morning's freshest breezes 
 blowing merrily round us ; the song of the soaring lark, 
 the crow of the startled grouse, the scream of the curlew, 
 and the roar of the distant sea, making a pleasant chorus. 
 My host strode rapidly on, leaving me little time to admire 
 the wide scenery below, or breath to express my admiration 
 of it. At length, to my great relief, we reached the highest 
 point of Ben Laighal, marked by a crumbling cairn. The 
 misty view at first was very limited, but it became superb 
 when the sun burst over the mountains that bound Grlen 
 Ullie ; his beams instantly converted the mist into a pris 
 matic lens, through which the wide-spread and varied 
 country below glowed like one of Turner's glorified land 
 scapes. Close beneath us was a mountain, darkly wooded 
 to the summit, over which an eagle was slowly rising from 
 
 B 
 
18 INTEODUCTOBT CHAPTEE. 
 
 her nest : on the east, the mountain sloped in glistening 
 emerald green to the shores of its own lake, which shone 
 like gold where it was not subdned into purple by the 
 reflection of the heathery hill beyond : north and west a 
 succession of precipitous rocks and gloomy ravines stretched 
 in savage grandeur to the sea. The woods and glades of 
 Tongue Castle presented the only memorial of the subduing 
 hand of man ; all else wore an aspect of primeval solitude 
 and wildness. 
 
 The highlander gazed on the magnificent view around 
 him with a proud and affectionate look, until all other 
 feelings seemed to become absorbed in devout admiration. 
 He uncovered his head as if he stood in a holy place, and 
 remained for a long time in silence, which I did not care to 
 break: he seemed 
 
 " Eapt into still communion that transcends 
 The imperfect offices of prayer and praise ; 
 His mind was a thanksgiving to the Power 
 That made him, it was blessedness and love." 
 
 At length he spoke in his usual tone, as he flung himself 
 down on the rich heather. 
 
 " There's aye something," he said, " in these lofty places, 
 that leads our thoughts far awa'. A mountain top will be 
 a place for meditation whether we will or no. No for 
 meditation on our ain small lot and its great vanities, 
 but on matters wide and various as the prospects that 
 fill our een. Elijah on Mount Carmel, and that uu- 
 fortunate Balaam on the hills of Moab, saw visions that 
 wad bae been unco hard to see on a puir level plain. But 
 of a' the transpired anes, I think that Balboa, when first 
 he saw the great Southern Ocean burst upon his sicht, 
 maun hae had the most glorious vision, a vision of things 
 that could no be uttered; a visible, vague, prophetic 
 glory, a good that was to come upon the earth in latter 
 days. Nae doot, the avaricious auld trooper understood 
 little eneugh what sublime sensation was swelling his 
 mind, and thought it was mere gold gold gold ! that 
 fired his fancy with glorious images that he could na shape. 
 But there was something grand, too, in how he hasted 
 down to the New Ocean and rushed in till it, breast high, 
 brandishin' his sword over his head, and shoutin' out, 
 
 " ' Inhabitants of two hemispheres ! Spaniards and In- 
 
ISTTBODTJCTOltY CIIAPTEE, 19 
 
 dians, botli ! I call ye to witness that I take possession of 
 this part of the Universe for the Crown of Castile. AVhat 
 my arm hath won for that crown, my sword shall defend ! ' 
 
 "And sae, sure eneugh, for nearly two hundred years, 
 did the bluidy sword of Spain wave over those countries, 
 and the arm of Spain oppress them sairly. Then went forth 
 our Scots, pioneers of a new power, that, though quelled 
 for the time, will yet rule those glorious countries wi' 
 righteous justice and gospel law. 
 
 " Methinks I can see, e'en now, from this land-and-sea- 
 commanding height, such shadowy likenesses as things to 
 come cast afore them ; for men's fancies are ofttimes the 
 mould in which a real futurity receives its shape. I can 
 imagine my auld kinsman Paterson, standing upon a peak 
 of Darien, e'en as we stand now upon Ben Laighal, but 
 that his thoughts were doubtless too big for such utterance. 
 That wide, sky -bounded sea beneath us wad be the great 
 Pacific, in his fancy flecked wi' mony a brave ship, fraught 
 wi' all that is precious amang men, accept the accursed 
 slave-freights. Within yon bay wad be the Isthmian 
 city, the emporium o' the warld; wi' its sister and 
 friendly rival, New Edinbro', on the eastern side ower 
 there ayont the hills. And a' thae braes, and glens, and 
 steepy hills, wad be the backbone itsel' o' the isthmus, 
 trampled doon into roads fit for a leddie's powny, by the 
 million feet o' prosperous wayfarers, to and fro travelling 
 circulatin' the gifts o' heaven from the Auld warld to the New. 
 
 " But it'll be e'en time for brakfast ; and when we gang 
 back to our bit shieling, if ye care for the grandest scheme 
 that ever entered the uninspired mind o' man, ye shall hao 
 your fill o' the Story o' Darien." 
 
 Up to this time, I knew little of the scheme of coloniza 
 tion upon which the highlander dwelt with such enthusiasm, 
 though it had ruined his family. I had had a vague idea, 
 indeed, that about the end of the seventeenth century, Scot 
 land sent out a colony to settle somewhere on the Isthmus 
 of Panama ; but all I knew more was that the colony had 
 failed. Now, when the eyes of speculation and enterprise 
 are again turned in that long-forgotten direction, I felt some 
 curiosity to know more about the old scheme. I took a 
 great interest, also, in my new friend, the highlander, as 
 I fear, will be too evident from the prolix account I have 
 
 B 2 
 
20 INTEODTJCTOEY CHAPTEE. 
 
 given of him. As soon, therefore, as our ample but simple 
 breakfast was ended, I inquired with real interest about the 
 Darien scheme, of which he might have been one of the pro 
 jectors so earnest and well-informed was he on the theme. 
 
 The old man pointed to the iron-fastened chest which I 
 mentioned as occupying the recess of his only window, and 
 observed, gravely, as he lighted his pipe 
 
 " That kist, and yon sword of Culloden, are the only 
 things I received frae my fathers, except an honest name, 
 and a strang constitution. The steel tells its ain story; 
 tho' dinna doot but it wad strike for our bonny Queen this 
 day, as truly and stoutly as ever it focht again' her fore 
 father a hundred years gane by. As. for the kist, it con 
 tains all the story about Darien, in notes and scraps, and 
 diaries, and a sort of life of the Spaniard, the Marchant 
 prince, as they ca'ed him, wha befrinded Paterson, when a' 
 else but Heaven and his hopeful heart had failed him. Te 
 will also find the few buiks, relatin' to the business that 
 ever was prented puir meagre things in thirsel, but unca 
 rare. There's those buiks, and some ithers, a wheen pam 
 phlets, and a lot o' papers, partly originals and partly copies 
 6* manuscripts lately published by Mr. Burton for the Ban- 
 natyne Club, from an auld kist discovered by his researches 
 in the Advocates' Library in Edinbro'. L/short, ye'll find 
 amaist everything that can be learned on the subject, lies 
 and a' ; and it wull be ye're ain fault if ye dinna find inte 
 rest in it." 
 
 To be brief (at last) ; I examined the matter, and I did 
 find such interest in it that during the summer's retirement 
 in Scotland I put together the story that forms the contents 
 of the following volume. If I should not be so fortunate 
 as to please any other reader, I at least succeeded in grati 
 fying my highland friend ; though, as will be seen, he was 
 as far from being satisfied as I was, with the justice ren 
 dered to his favourite theme. The domestic incidents, the 
 homely thread on which historic pearls are hung, will seem 
 to many to encumber the narrative ; but others may be 
 reconciled to such matters by being led, not uselessly, to 
 trace for themselves the probably small springs of great 
 actions ; the almost imperceptible peculiarities of character 
 that shape what are miscalled the fortunes of a man, and 
 through him the destinies of a world. 
 
D A R I E N; 
 
 OB, 
 
 THE MERCHANT PRINCE. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 Long had the crimes of Spain cried out to Heav'n ! 
 At length the measure of offence was full. 
 
 * * * * # 
 
 Inhuman priests with unoffending blood 
 
 Had stain'd their country ; * * * a yoke 
 
 Of iron servitude oppress'd and gall'd 
 
 The children of the soil. SOCKET'S "Roderick" 
 
 SPAIN" is the country, of all Europe, in which imagination 
 most delights to wander, and on which memory most loves 
 to dwell. Those who know it only by its romantic history 
 and racy literature, can understand much of its deep in 
 terest ; but those alone who have gazed upon its glorious 
 landscapes, and breathed its delicious climate, can fully 
 appreciate the charm it possesses for the mind and body. 
 
 No wonder that, in the adventurous olden, time, this 
 favoured land was fiercely fought for, and fiercely defended. 
 No wonder that chivalry was here carried to perfection 
 that poetry proclaimed its triumphs, that art, in its finest 
 forms, illustrated them, and that civilization, in its most 
 gorgeous though least consistent shape, strove hard to find 
 a shelter there. 
 
 But Home, with her spiritual power, was more than a 
 match for Spain with all her rich endowments. The Pope 
 ruled in the person of her kings ; priests held in their hands 
 the conscience of her people. Never had the Church of the 
 
22 DABIEN. 
 
 Seven Hills such power over any nation ; never had any 
 viation such a claim upon her blessings ; for Spain was not 
 only obedient but enslaved to her control. In the palace, 
 in the prison, at the death-bed, by the bridal couch, every 
 where, and at all times, the priest was present and pre 
 dominant. There was the most triumphant career of the 
 Inquisition. There did the Holy Office exercise its func 
 tions uncontrolled ; there Auto-da-fes were celebrated with 
 the highest pomp, and the Church's rebels perished by 
 thousands in the flames. 
 
 With all these spiritual blessings superadded to her 
 natural gifts, Spain ought surely to have been a perfect 
 paradise. Yet it was not altogether, or, indeed, nearly so ; 
 and what matter there was of congratulation or honest 
 pride, was little referable to the imperium in imperio which 
 Home asserted over the souls and bodies of her Spanish 
 slaves. Striking and sad contrasts met the eye two hun 
 dred years ago as they do now. Gorgeous cathedrals, 
 encrusted by miserable huts ; whole streets of monasteries 
 swarming with mendicants ; haughty palaces, surrounded 
 with filth; orange groves, reeking with foul smells. The 
 state of Spain was contemptible in the midst of its splen 
 dour and its pride, and^dts moral and political contrasts 
 were equal to those of magnificence and squalor that were 
 ever neighbours to each other. Despotic power vainly 
 warred against petty rebellions ; the Customs were set at 
 naught by the contrabandistas ; the richest of all nations, 
 as regarded precious metals, was the poorest in real wealth ; 
 and even the terrible power of the Church was frequently 
 evaded by the Jew and the Mahometan. 
 
 Beautiful Granada ! Even at this hour there is an air of 
 desolation over thy magic scenery, thy snowy heights, thy 
 orange and myrtle groves, thy varied gardens, thy cities, 
 and thy palaces ! Even at this hour, with faithful sorrow, 
 thou seemest to feel the loss of the gallant and gifted race, 
 banished by brutal bigotry and murderous despotism from 
 the homes that they adorned and ennobled ! 
 
 In other lands, and even in this England of ours, there 
 are relics of splendid fanes and princely palaces, whose ruins 
 alone attest the legends of their bygone glories; but around 
 such monuments spread fertile fields and prosperous home- 
 
DAEIEN. 23 
 
 steads. Here manly energy and patriot love were never 
 wanting to the soil ; here was no break in the national 
 spirit which once raised strong places for stormy times, and 
 which, when peace was won, diffused innumerable churches, 
 and widely-scattered cottages, for its people ; instead of the 
 cathedral and the fortress, in which they were once concen 
 trated. 
 
 But in Granada there is an abrupt transition from pros 
 perity to prostration evident in all things. The Spaniard 
 was unable to take up the scheme of social life which the 
 Moresco had been forced to abandon ; he would not, if he 
 could, have imitated the art and industry of a heretic people, 
 whom, in his ignorance and pride of heart, he scorned ; and 
 so he left the state of his enemy to be an episode in Moorish 
 story, a fragment of national history unequalled in interest, 
 and in monuments which attest its truth. 
 
 The few Morescoes who had escaped exile or the sword, 
 under the persecution of Ferdinand the Catholic, clung 
 with desperate tenacity to Granada and the adjoining 
 mountains. Some of them did not scruple to obtain con 
 temptuous toleration by a seeming apostacy : others, through 
 ingenuity, or bribery, or poverty, acquired the same impu 
 nity without the same degradation. 
 
 Among the latter was the wealthy and once princely 
 house of Ara-Medina. Its representative towards the close 
 of the seventeenth century, was a merchant, named Alvarez, 
 well known throughout the commercial world of Europe; 
 though his very name was almost unheard of in his native 
 land, the fair province of Granada. Yet there, almost 
 within sight of Velez Malaga, was his home. The oriental 
 love of mystery common to all his race, conspired with 
 motives of security to render his seclusion complete. The 
 iRetiro, the beautiful situation of which renders it at this 
 day a favourite place of resort, was in the time of our story 
 surrounded by a vast forest, except where it fronted towards 
 the sea. The massive walls that enclosed its wide domain 
 appeared dilapidated, and were so overgrown with ivy and 
 other parasites, as to be scarcely distinguishable from the 
 jnngle that yearly encroached upon them. Granada was 
 never at any time a favourite place of residence among the 
 true Spaniards, and the forest of Malamnia had a peculiarly 
 
24 DAEIEN. 
 
 evil name. This, together with the mouldering and neg 
 lected appearance of the castle, had obtained for it an 
 enviable neglect; the very existence of such a place was 
 scarcely known to the indolent authorities of Granada. 
 
 Yet within those ruinous-looking walls, the Moorish 
 merchant had built himself a palace, the magnificence of 
 which was worthy of the palmy days of his people. The old 
 castle had been originally designed for a mighty fortress, 
 and contained within its wide circuit paddocks, gardens, 
 ponds, and even vineyards ; everything, in short, that en 
 abled a garrison to hold out a siege for years without com 
 munication with the surrounding country. To this ruin 
 Alvarez had been first attracted by its beauty and its deep 
 seclusion. He had purchased the neighbouring forest, and 
 claimed and obtained the castle as a valueless appendage to 
 his purchase. Thither, during many years of an active and 
 adventurous life, he often retired to repose ; the charm of a 
 home grew upon him ; he took pleasure in adorning it as 
 if it were a bride. Every vessel that arrived under cover 
 of the night in his secluded bay was laden with objects of 
 art or luxury, and with crowds of Moorish artificers. And 
 so a new soul, as it were, grew up within the carcass of the 
 still mouldering and melancholy-looking walls that screened 
 their inclosure from every Spanish eye, and even from sus 
 picion. 
 
 By degrees Alvarez withdrew himself from the mercan 
 tile pursuits in which he and his father had amassed enor 
 mous wealth. Venice, Genoa, and Marseilles no longer 
 hailed his arrival on their shores as a great event. His 
 liberal and noble character alone was remembered among 
 their merchant-princes. He had vanished from public view, 
 and in the deep retirement of his romantic castle had re 
 sumed the studies from which his youth had been reluc 
 tantly diverted. 
 
 There Alvarez tried to persuade himself that he was 
 happy ; and the persuasion became stronger when he dis 
 covered a long-lost friend and grateful guest in a Moorish 
 scholar, named Eeduan, from whom he had been separated 
 since childhood. The career of Eeduan had been as strongly 
 marked by misfortune as that of his early friend had been 
 distinguished by success ; and the world-weary scholar now 
 
DARIEN. 25 
 
 found in the castle of the Eetiro a welcome asylum. To 
 him it afforded practically what to Alvarez it was only 
 theoretically, a philosophical retirement. 
 
 For Alvarez, when once he had exhausted his enthusiasm 
 in preparing his new home, began to find the repose that he 
 had so longed for, a little irksome ; and in truth, his xebec 
 bore him away from the Retire more frequently than be 
 came a philosophic hermit. 
 
 His friend Eeduan did not remonstrate against a restless 
 ness which appeared as natural to his former habits as it was 
 inconsistent with his present professions. Eeduan, for his 
 own part, had been effectually weaned by misfortune from 
 a world which seemed to have nothing else in store for him; 
 but he could easily understand how his friend and patron, 
 upon whom the world had always smiled, should now and 
 then yearn after a little more of that world's gilded troubles 
 and plausible sources of inquietude. Nor was Eeduan 
 surprised when, at the close of a summer day, the evening 
 breeze wafted the xebec into the little harbour with a 
 lovely lady on its deck, and that lady proved to be his 
 patron's bride. 
 
 Donna Eachel was a Jewess, and she possessed all the 
 high attributes so much more frequently found in the 
 women than in the men of her Divinely-chosen race. High 
 intelligence, and brilliant fancy, and loving thoughts, were 
 all expressed in the deep dark beauty of her eastern eyes, 
 and broad forehead, and full roseate mouth. Her education 
 had not been built on books, nor was it in any way the 
 work of formal teachers. Her childhood had passed dreamily 
 away, occupied only in such things as pleased her fancy for 
 the moment ; and though she sang exquisitely, and her 
 countenance varied with every emotion conjured up by the 
 sublime war-hymns or sacred love-songs of her people, she 
 would have found it very difficult to express in prose one 
 idea that inspired her while she sang. . 
 
 But unaccomplished as she was, she possessed a deep in 
 definable charm, together with quick perceptions, and a 
 gentle, loving nature. From the hour of her arrival at the 
 castle it was no longer lonely. She had married a husband 
 of her parents' choice ; and to him she had been handed 
 over in a manner that mere Europeans might suppose 
 savoured of slaverv. But it was the manner in which 
 
26 DAEIEN. 
 
 Rebecca, and Leah, and Rachel were given away long ago ; 
 and doubtless Jael, and Judith, and other heroines of her 
 race had been similarly disposed of. In this case, at least, 
 it appeared to be as wise an arrangement as many Christian 
 marriages, for Alvarez thenceforth wandered from his 
 home no more. In the course of time a son was born to 
 him, and the measure of his happiness seemed fulfilled. 
 
 His boy grew up in the midst of everything that could 
 develop his intellect, and in the absence of all that could 
 lead warm youth astray. He was taught to consider the 
 walls of his father's well-secured domain as the absolute 
 limits of his range ; but within this he found means to 
 perfect himself in most of the manly exercises. There he 
 learned the old eastern accomplishments; namely, to "shoot, 
 and ride, and speak the truth." In the castle's capacious 
 library, the books that most charmed the young scholar 
 were tales of adventure, and voyages and travels, to which 
 the confinement of his life gave greater zest. Above 
 all, the glorious and mournful career of Columbus inflamed 
 his imagination. He dwelt with delight on the great dis 
 coverer's vivid pictures of the New World, its beauty, its 
 capabilities, its future destiny. He drank in the inspiration 
 that filled the minds of the old discoverers until it became 
 his own. The hours of his recreation, instead of the usual 
 pleasure-dreams that fill boys' fancies, were employed in 
 framing schemes of daring enterprise ; and when he re 
 turned to his studies the same passion directed and warmed 
 them. Navigation, geography, and modern languages were 
 his recreation ; arid even arithmetic and mathematics, for 
 which the Arab mind has a wonderful aptitude, furnished 
 welcome labour to his vigorous and undistracted mind. His 
 father beheld his self-education and its progi^ess with pride 
 and satisfaction, though he often asked himself sadly in 
 what fulfilment the bright promise of his son could end. In 
 Spain, of all countries on the earth, there was no career 
 open to a man of alien faith and blood ; and yet so dear to 
 him was his native country, or rather the spot of it which 
 he occupied, that it never occurred to his mind to change 
 it for another. As years advanced, such a change became* 
 more and more impossible. His retirement became more 
 dear to him ; and like a thousand others in all parts of the 
 world, he left the bark of his fortunes to float upon the 
 
DAEIEN. 27 
 
 current of destiny which he could not, only because he 
 would not stem. 
 
 When the young Alvarez was about twelve years of age, 
 however, a momentous change took place in the government 
 of Granada. The Viceroy of that province had hitherto 
 been an easy, though avaricious, old noble ; and the tribute 
 paid punctually by Alvarez, together with a handsome 
 present, had secured to his secluded castle the obscurity 
 which was its best shelter from bigotry and avarice. The 
 Viceroy, however, was displaced by some court intrigue, 
 and a creature of the Jesuits was appointed in his stead. 
 One of the accusations brought against the deposed go 
 vernor was the uncatholic toleration he had exhibited 
 towards heretics, and his successor was determined that no 
 such crime of leniency should be preferred against his 
 government. 
 
 Granada thenceforth became fearfully agitated. Domi 
 ciliary visits invaded homes that had been long sacred to 
 peace ; spies of the Inquisition swarmed over the land, and 
 many of the best and most influential of the Morescoes 
 disappeared from time to time, none knew how, or, if they 
 did, none cared to tell. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 Here didst thou dwell, here schemes of pleasure plan, 
 Beneath yon mountain's ever-beauteous brow ; 
 But now, as though a thing unbless'd by man, 
 Thy fairy dwelling is as lone as thou : 
 Fresh lessons to the unthinking bosom, how 
 Vain are the pleasaunces by lite supplied, 
 Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide. 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING- the vigilance of the new Viceroy of 
 Granada, the castle of Alvarez remained for a long time 
 apparently unobserved. Eeduan had in the first days of 
 his residence there, perceived the importance that even an 
 hour's defence might prove to his patron's stronghold ; be 
 had therefore gradually collected round its walls a number 
 
28 DABIEN. 
 
 of his countrymen who carried on the not unpopular 
 calling of contrabandistas, and who gladly availed them 
 selves of such a shelter for their families. Eeduau had 
 also encouraged them to build a village of huts along the 
 shore ; and the lawless and daring character of its in 
 habitants rendered the neighbourhood more shunned than 
 ever. To Alvarez, however, as clansmen to their chief, 
 these outlaws adhered with devotion, and kept his secret 
 with proud fidelity. 
 
 It was through the inhabitants of Mesquinez, as this 
 Moresco village was then called, that Alvarez and Reduan 
 alone obtained information concerning the external world 
 at least of Spain. 'Once a year, indeed, Reduan visited 
 Granada, to pay taxes and various imposts levied on the 
 forest of the Eetiro and a certain property possessed by 
 Alvarez in the Alpuxarra Mountains. As the late change 
 of government was well known to him, Reduan set forth on 
 his accustomed mission with some forebodings, though 
 without personal fear. His disinterested heart was only 
 anxious on account of his friends, the precarious tenure of 
 whose happiness he too well understood. 
 
 Arrived in beautiful Granada, and at the Xeneralife, the 
 exquisite " pleasure-house " of El Chico, he had long to 
 wait before he was admitted to the presence of the Viceroy's 
 favourite. Through that fortunate individual all business 
 likely to be profitable was obliged to find its way before it 
 descended to the actual official to whose department it 
 belonged. At length Eeduan was permitted to offer his 
 present and his tribute. Then followed a searching ex 
 amination, which proved to him that suspicions had been 
 roused concerning his capability to furnish not a larger tax 
 but a larger present. After long and warily defending 
 himself, Reduan at length offered to pay this fine of his own 
 accord ; but while he admitted that he set a high value on 
 the possessions purporting to be his, he endeavoured, and 
 successfully, to divert the official's curiosity from the true 
 quarter. He confessed that his flocks and his Quinta in 
 the Alpuxarras were of increasing value ; but on the other 
 hand, he pleaded the ruinous and worthless state of the 
 Retire and its forest, which he prayed the governor to have 
 examined, in order to reduce its rent. 
 
 The stratagem succeeded and when Eeduan offered to 
 
DABIEtf. 29 
 
 pay a considerable present on behalf of the really worthless 
 property in the mountains, that which was valuable was 
 neglected. So far the Moresco had managed to escape the 
 civil authorities ; but the report that a wealthy Jew, if not 
 a downright pagan, had been publicly pleading in Granada, 
 could not escape the knowledge of the Inquisition ; its 
 officials seized the man whom the governor had acquitted, 
 and in the dark mysterious dungeons of the Holy Office the 
 faithful Eeduan suffered such things as have been scarcely 
 ever revealed, or even whispered in open day. 
 
 Meanwhile as time passed on, and his friend returned not 
 to the castle, Alvarez determined to seek him, if it were 
 in the very arms of the Inquisition. It is needless to 
 trace the steps by which fanatic villany worked on the 
 Moresco' s noble nature, and induced him to substitute 
 himself for his friend ; but in fine, Eeduan was set loose, or 
 rather, was cast out, from the dungeons, apparently broken, 
 bruised, and torn beyond all prospect of surviving ; and 
 Alvarez occupied his place in prison. The diabolical in 
 genuity of the torturers, however, failed to move his 
 stubborn soul, either to conversion or confession. He 
 would not embrace the path to heaven prescribed by means 
 that hell itself might have suggested ; he would not even 
 reveal the secret places of his wealth, as that would have 
 directed the search to his far dearer living treasures. 
 
 Suddenly, at last, he died, in the midst of torture which 
 the officials thought he scarcely felt ; so little of his agony 
 did he betray to his tormentors' triumph. 
 
 Meanwhile the Senora Eachel and her son remained 
 in ignorance of all that happened. A dread suspense, 
 indeed, oppressed them ; but fatalism and constitutional 
 firmness prevented the prostration of despair. I 
 
 One evening, as was their custom, the Senora and her son 
 were watching from the highest tower in the castle, each 
 sail that the sunset breeze was wafting along the bright 
 seas beneath them. But, as had been the case for months, 
 the ships all passed by, and stood on for their various 
 destinations far away. 
 
 The lady of the castle, however, watched them un- 
 weariedly, as she lay, in her eastern fashion, upon a pile of 
 cushions in the deep recess of a western window. Her 
 loveliness was scarcely faded, though her son was now a tall 
 
30 DAEIEtf. 
 
 stripling, and premature shadows generally fall on the 
 morning of an eastern woman's fervid beauty. Her apart 
 ment was furnished with all things that could delight and 
 amuse her leisure, but her eyes were regardless of all except 
 the sea on which her hope now, as once her fear, was rested. 
 The window that she looked from, without was timeworn 
 and ivy-tangled, but within, its delicate stone tracery was 
 carefully preserved. The light, green-tinctured by the ivy 
 and jasmine through which it streamed, fell on dark rich 
 carpets of Ispahan, or flashed on Venetian mirrors. A 
 blazing fire of fragrant wood rose and fell fitfully in the 
 great fireplace, which was overhung with shirts of mail and 
 Moorish casques arched above with Damascus blades, 
 fancifully arranged and crossed in imitation of the oriel 
 window, and flanked by Arab lances. 
 
 On the low table opposite the window where the Senora 
 lay, stood a model of the galley in which Columbus ex 
 plored the unknown recesses of the ocean ; and maps and 
 mathematical instruments and a few books lying round, 
 showed that the chamber was also the favourite resort of 
 the young Alvarez. Through some loopholes filled with 
 stained glass, you might have looked down upon the court 
 yard below, with its great fountain, foaming in black marble, 
 supported by four recumbent lions of the same material. 
 The court itself was of tesselated pavement, from which 
 porcelain steps led into the castle under a great arch. A 
 lofty screen of stone, so delicately wrought as to resemble 
 the work of the loom rather than of the chisel, separated 
 the court-yard from the gardens. There, through the vistas 
 of pomegranate and sweet lemon-trees, gleamed indistinctly 
 flowers innumerable ; especially roses of every hue and 
 fragrance, from those of Sharon and Damascus, to that 
 delicate pale flower of China, which seems impregnated with 
 the breezes that linger among the tea groves. The garden 
 terraces rose in irregular succession, watered by many foun 
 tains and playful cascades, which at midnight made pleasant 
 music for the nightingales. Far away, that maze of flowery 
 brilliance became softened by the tender foliage of northern 
 plants, and the rich gloom of orange groves ; then it faded 
 in the distance into the forest, which darkened over the vast 
 wall that surrounded the whole domain. 
 
 The shades of evening had settled over all that charmed 
 
DAEIEN. 31 
 
 " pleasaunce," and the castle, and the silent, anxious 
 watchers in the tower ; when the door of their apartment 
 slowly opened, and the mere spectre, as it seemed to be, of 
 Eeduan glided in. 
 
 His tale was soon told. Days and weeks passed by before 
 the widow's woe and the son's wild grief subsided into set 
 tled sorrow, and a stern thirst for vengeance. 
 
 Revenge to the young Moresco seemed a virtue, the 
 only filial duty towards his murdered parent that was still 
 in his power to perform. His dark creed had never taught 
 him otherwise, and native magnanimity could not reach the 
 sublime height of forgiving more than selfish injuries, which, 
 after all, are the lightliest borne when their first shock is 
 over. JN"or did Eeduan attempt to stifle that deadly passion 
 for revenge; he shared it too deeply; but he sought to 
 instil a necessity for caution in its execution, lest it might 
 only recoil upon the avenger, and lead to one triumph more 
 for the Inquisitors. 
 
 And so the boy grew up, daily nurtured in hatred towards 
 the Spanish nation ; feeding that hatred with the dark his 
 tory of his people's wrongs, and eagerly possessing himself 
 of all the tragic stories of Spanish conquest, in America, 
 and the infernal cruelties by which their own writers 
 described that conquest as having been achieved. Thus the 
 attention of the young orphan was further directed towards 
 the Spanish Main, and the transatlantic empire, which was 
 destined to be the scene of his future fortunes. 
 
 Meanwhile, except for the mourning hearts within it, all 
 went on in the castle as before the fatal news arrived. At 
 first, Eeduan had endeavoured to prevail on the Senora to 
 abandon it for some country where the curse of the Inqui 
 sition was less heavy or unknown. But to this the poor 
 lady would not assent. In an eastern woman's eyes her 
 home is almost unchangeable. There she had long been 
 sheltered and cherished ; there she had known content and 
 happiness. Beyond its high and gloomy walls the world 
 seemed to her a mere wilderness a vast and terrible arena, 
 wherein wrathful and sinful men for ever strove, and where 
 all that was loved and holy was sorely endangered. 
 
 But to Eeduan's caution as to necessity for still deeper 
 obscurity, the lonely widow almost gladly assented. Hence 
 forth the old castle became daily more dark and gloomy, 
 
32 DAKIEtf. 
 
 more swallowed up by the surrounding forest, against whose 
 encroachments the hand of labour no longer strove. As 
 the fine exotics faded from the gardens, their place was left 
 vacant ; even the fountains, so delightful to the Moorish 
 eye and ear, became choked up and silent, as if their play of 
 waters was unwelcome in those solemn precincts. 
 
 Still, however, the rich arabesques upon the cornices 
 retained their beauty, as their traces do even now ; still the 
 masterpieces of Velasquez and Murillo graced the walls ; 
 rich carving still swelled in bold relief beneath the gather 
 ing dust, and the cedar and sandal-wood retained their per 
 fume. As the radiant eyes and vermilion lips of the lady 
 of the castle contrasted with the gloomy Aveeds she always 
 wore, so enough of splendour still remained in her dwelling- 
 place to vindicate its former glories, and to grace its deso 
 lation. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 His ambition, 
 
 Once the vague instinct of his nobleness, 
 Thus temper'd in the glowing furnace heat 
 Of lone repinings and aye present aims, 
 Brighten'd to hope and strengthen'd to resolve. 
 
 Guest-es at Truth. 
 
 OTJE demands on happiness (or, at least, on pleasures) con 
 tract and expand in a wonderful manner, according as they 
 are indulged in or denied. It \vould almost seem as if it 
 were but the first spasm of contraction that is painful, and 
 the first sense of expansion that is truly enjoyable. The 
 tradesman is indifferent to comforts that would be delightful 
 luxuries to the labourer ; the prince is unconscious of en 
 joyments that would be intoxicating to his page. Hence, 
 as is most righteous, the man whose sources of pleasure are 
 most scanty, has the widest range of possible delights ; and, 
 he who possesses all that this world can bestow, has a fear 
 fully narrow pinnacle to stand upon, all around him offering 
 only a comparative privation. Herein is contained an im 
 portant cause of the balance (more equal than we generally 
 
DARIEl*. 33 
 
 believe) between the lot of one individual and another, 
 between our own former and present state. The serenities 
 that pervade the poor, the bereaved, the exiled, the sick, 
 the dying, are often beyond our comprehension, yet they 
 may be any day within our reach and our experience. 
 
 Eew would have been disposed to envy the Senora de 
 Medina: with her youth and genius and warm beauty, 
 buried in a life-long seclusion ; with no one henceforth to 
 keep her company in that great and gloomy castle, except 
 her son and his father's gaunt, care-worn friend, whose 
 every movement, in its evident pain, recalled all the horrors 
 of the Inquisitional tortures, and their victim, her mur 
 dered husband. Nevertheless, time, with healing on its 
 wings, and custom, with its petrifying influences, had re 
 moved almost all the pain of her new position, and left to 
 it sufficient tender melancholy to render the prospect of a 
 future life more dear. As one of her own poets says, " the 
 moss of contentment outlives the sculpture of pride that it 
 entombs;" and the widow's happiness, if less vivid than 
 once it was, was now more even and unbroken, and quite 
 satisfied her chastened heart. Her life, indeed, would have 
 been perfectly tranquil, but for her son, at once her only 
 hope and her only fear. Little as she knew of the world, she 
 knew that Alvarez could not long be contented to linger 
 out his clays with her ; she felt that the home which was to 
 her an asylum and sure refuge, was to him a prison. She 
 therefore taught him to consider his seclusion as only pro 
 bationary. She instilled into him her proud conviction of his 
 future greatness, until he shared in that conviction, and 
 believed that it was at once his duty and his destiny to 
 achieve it. He used his retirement, therefore, as mariners 
 make preparation on a quiet shore for a long and stormy 
 voyage ; and in his preparations he was contented for a 
 while to forego their object. He accustomed himself, in 
 the midst of luxuries, to ascetic hardships ; and though 
 surrounded by all that could enervate, he trained his limbs 
 to athletic exercises. His greatest energies, however, were 
 bestowed on the large library that had been his learned 
 father's pride. There he sought the best substitute for 
 worldly knowledge, the true elements of power. The sciences 
 are said chiefly to have attracted him, even in his early youth, 
 especially that of numbers, and the doctrine of the 
 
 o 
 
34 DAKIEtf. 
 
 chances, then newly expounded by Huygens. The cer 
 tainties that lie hidden at the bottom of all chance, had a 
 peculiar fascination for him, and long afterwards he turned 
 his early studies of that mystery to profitable account. His 
 lighter hours were devoted to history and travels, such as 
 those of Mandeville, Marco Polo, Vasco Grama, and Co 
 lumbus. 
 
 Thus occupied, the young Alvarez found time pass swiftly. 
 Grave and thoughtful even as a child, his natural tendencies 
 were strengthened by his deep sorrow, by his brooding over 
 vengeance, and by the lonely life he led. For his only 
 friend was also his tutor, his father's cotemporary, and now 
 broken down by physical suffering and mental anxiety. 
 His mother, saddened as she was, afforded him the only 
 cheerful companionship that he possessed. She was as 
 yet quite able to fill all the woman department of his 
 feelings, and he loved her with a fond and undivided 
 affection. 
 
 And here I might enter into a disquisition of great length 
 on the comparative advantages of public and private edu 
 cation, were it not that my pages may have already suffi 
 cient dryness, and to spare. The results of such a training 
 as that of Alvarez would, of course, vary with the constitu 
 tion of each character; but the chief danger of private 
 education is doubtless the fostering of self-love and vanity, 
 and the impairing of self-reliance. Whatever cause Alvarez, 
 in after times, may have had to regret these defects, in his 
 present life there was nothing to call out their exercise or 
 betray their existence. 
 
 Reduan, who was now guardian, tutor, and steward to the 
 widow and the child of his lost friend, became doubly 
 anxious for his charge as the time approached when he 
 must again appear before the authorities of Granada. He 
 had long lived, in hourly fear lest the Holy Office should 
 discover the secret of the Medina palace, yet still he found 
 it impossible to induce the Senora to seek for safety beyond 
 the sea. He thought it necessary, therefore, to take his 
 young pupil to Genoa, where his father had large invest 
 ments and many friends ; for he felt that his own tenure of 
 life was very insecure, and if he were gone that Alvarez 
 would be as helpless as a child, from his ignorance of the 
 world, and of his own affairs. This being resolved upon, 
 
DABIEtf. 35 
 
 Reduan and Alvarez took their departure from the Mes- 
 quinez, in one of the contrabandista's xebecs. 
 
 The boy soon forgot the sorrow of parting from his 
 mother, in the rapturous sense of freedom, as he found 
 himself bounding over the waves for the first time in his 
 life. Even the magnificent country now spread out before 
 him the purple hills, the snowy mountains of the Sierra 
 Nevada, had for him all the charm of novelty. He gazed 
 with admiration upon the sweeping curves and the bold 
 promontories which break that picturesque coast into such 
 variety of beauty ; and sea, and land, and air appeared all 
 teeming with delight to the eyes and heart of the young 
 wanderer. 
 
 And yet his warm heart soon gravitated back to its long- 
 accustomed centre of attraction. His attention was with 
 drawn from all the bright world around him, which to him, 
 was as new and lovely as to Adam at his first creation. 
 His thoughts and sight were soon concentrated on the 
 dark forest, and the mouldering walls within which his 
 mother watched and prayed for him : he would have ex 
 changed all the promise of the future for a renewal of the 
 past, once more to find himself by that mother's side, her 
 only source of happiness and pride : with his departure 
 both had deserted her, and a fearful change was close at 
 hand. 
 
 But the galley sped on slowly towards the sea, moving 
 along through the shadows cast in sunset by the wooded 
 promontory that formed the northern arm of the bay. 
 Looking for sympathy in his sense of loneliness, Alvarez 
 sought the eyes of Eeduan ; they too were fixed on the old 
 castle, but with an expression of alarm and surprise. Sud 
 denly he shouted to the captain of the galley to put about 
 and return to the shore. The crew started to their oars, 
 the sails were struck, and their little vessel was sweeping 
 rapidly towards the castle, before Alvarez could make his 
 anxious question heard. 
 
 " Look ! look ! " whispered Eeduan ; " see you not smoke 
 rising from the Mesquinez ? Hear you not the sounds of 
 fight ? Nay, it is over now, and all is lost ! " 
 
 An interval of intense and agonizing suspense followed. 
 The men held their breath as the xebec shot along the 
 hissing waters. She was run ashore in a little creek a 
 
 c 2 
 
36 
 
 short distance from the castle. Eeduan leaped ashore 
 after Alvarez, who struggled wildly to rush away from the 
 iron grasp with which he seized him. The crew of the 
 xebec followed eagerly, they were well armed, and seemed 
 prepared for any act of daring. But E/eduan, with strong 
 self-control restrained not only himself, but his young 
 charge and his wild countrymen, who waited but his word 
 to rush on the invaders of their homes. 
 
 All sounds of strife had ceased. Nothing but some 
 columns of smoke curling quietly up in the evening air, 
 gave token of any disaster. .Reduan hastily climbed a cliff 
 that rose almost abruptly from the sea ; he could thence, in 
 the bright moonlight, observe the broad sandy path that 
 led from the castle gate along the shore. The gates were 
 thrown open, and forth issued a strong body of cavalry, 
 followed by a column of musketeers and spearmen. Many 
 prisoners evidently accompanied them, and in the midst 
 could be perceived a sort of covered chair, such as ladies 
 were then used to go abroad in, and close beside it rode four 
 men in black familiars of the dreadful Inquisition. 
 
 Reduan. saw at a glance what had happened, and how 
 hopeless it was to think of rescue then. He dismissed his 
 crew to seek their own safety as they could ; at the same time 
 he almost dragged Alvarez away with him to a place of 
 concealment, whence, ultimately, they reached the Alpuxarra 
 Mountains, the old and inaccessible refuge of the Moors. 
 
DAEIEN. 37 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 I was an infant when my mother went 
 
 To see an atheist burnt : she took me there. 
 
 The dark-robed priests were met around the pyre ; 
 
 And as the victim pass'd with dauntless mien, 
 
 Temper'd disdain in his unaltering eyes, 
 
 Mix'd with a quiet smile, shone calmly forth. 
 
 The thirsty fire crept round his manly limbs, 
 
 His resolute eyes were scorch'd to blindness soon. 
 
 His death-pang rent my heart ; the insensate mob 
 
 Utter'd a cry of triumph ; and I wept. 
 
 " Weep not !" my mother cried . . . . 
 
 SHELLEY. 
 
 EEDTJAN guessed that the Seiiora de Medina would at first 
 be treated with consideration and respect; and most pro 
 bably that she would be long detained as a prisoner before 
 her trial was proceeded with. He justly judged that the 
 Holy Office would use all its efforts to secure her son ; and 
 until that object was accomplished, that the mother's life at 
 least was safe. There were sufficient captives of a meaner 
 sort for the torturers to amuse themselves with meanwhile. 
 
 Sustained by these considerations, the faithful Eeduan 
 waited patiently in his retreat for news from Mesquinez, 
 devoting all his attention to soothing and restraining the 
 miserable Alvarez. 
 
 At length one of the crew of the xebec arrived with in 
 telligence of the late event. 
 
 It appeared that the Holy Office had for some time had 
 its eyes upon the castle of the Eetiro. The subtlety of its 
 espionage had penetrated even into the lawless village of 
 Mesquinez, and had soon ascertained that wealth, and 
 luxury, and heresy were all lurking within the ruinous 
 walls that had so long preserved their secrets. As soon 
 as it was known that Eeduan was making preparations for 
 a voyage, immediate steps were taken to secure his galley 
 as it was getting under weigh ; and at the same time to 
 take possession of the mysterious palace in the forest. It 
 was known that the Moorish contrabandistas would fight 
 for their patron, even against the dreaded officials of the 
 Inquisition, and therefore such a force was despatched to 
 
38 DAEIEX. 
 
 aid them as might defy opposition. Reduan had uncon 
 sciously defeated this plan, as far as regarded himself and 
 his young charge. He was one who did not love to have 
 his movements known, and he had sailed an hour before 
 the appointed time. The officials of the Inquisition, thus 
 baffled in their first design, had also to encounter a resolute 
 defence by the contrabandistas before they could reach the 
 old castle walls. These last were so undefended that they 
 entered without difficulty. The courts, so long silent and 
 secluded, now rang with the tramp of horses and the clash 
 of arms. The familiars strode along the corridors, won 
 dering at the splendour and signs of wealth that everywhere 
 met their eyes, the only unmasked part of their cruel and 
 remorseless countenances. At length they burst open the 
 door of the apartment before described, from the window of 
 which the widow had been watching the progress of her 
 son's galley across the bay. The poor lady uttered a shriek 
 of terror as her eyes fell upon the dark figures of the 
 officials, already familiar to her shrinking imagination, but 
 immediately her fear was swallowed up in gratitude for the 
 safety of her child. "He at least," she fondly thought, 
 "may escape his father's, yea, and his mother's dreadful 
 doom!" Thus the helpless lady sustained and comforted 
 her woman's heart; then meekly she followed her grim 
 guards away for ever from her home ; and the old castle 
 was left to silence and the guardianship of the servants of 
 the Holy Office. 
 
 On hearing this confirmation of his worst fears, Eeduan 
 prepared at once to depart for Seville, for thither the dread 
 procession of the Inquisition had been traced. The Moorish 
 character and sacred spots of that delightful city had, early 
 in his life, rendered it familiar to him ; and he now hoped, 
 through the agency of powerful friends, to compromise for 
 the Senora Rachel's safety by the surrender of her unsus 
 pected wealth. 
 
 Then, when left alone among the mountains, did Alvarez, 
 for the first time, learn to deplore the retirement and igno 
 rance of the world in which his youth had passed. Though 
 naturally of a most resolute and independent temper, he 
 felt forced to rely entirely upon his tutor in the present 
 great emergency. He had even allowed himself to promise 
 that for one month he would await his return from Seville. 
 
BABIED. 39 
 
 "So long as thou art at liberty," Keduan had argued, 
 " thy mother will be safe. Thy capture consigns her to 
 destruction as well as to despair for thee." 
 
 Ten days and weeks passed by, and the son remained in 
 miserable suspense. As the month drew towards its close, his 
 impatience became almost ungovernable. In vain his kind 
 though rugged countrymen strove to amuse his attention 
 with the chase, or the old games peculiar to their race ; in 
 vain the dark-eyed damsels of the mountains strove to divert 
 his sternly pensive thoughts. From earliest dawn to the 
 last gleam of evening light, Alvarez watched from a lofty 
 eminence the path that led to Seville. "Whenever a way 
 farer appeared in sight, he would rush down to meet him, 
 and inquire, with a faltering voice, for the news that never 
 came. 
 
 At length the month expired, and Alvarez was seen no 
 more upon the mountains. Before the daylight dawned, he 
 was already six hours on the road. Disguised in a vine 
 dresser's humble garb, he strode along towards the city with 
 a noble bearing that might have betrayed him anywhere ex 
 cept in Andalusia. He was almost unconscious of all he 
 saw of everything but his rate of progress. The darkness 
 of night, the burning sun, were alike indifferent to him. 
 Sustained by the fever at his heart, he scarcely felt nature's 
 claim for rest or food. 
 
 At length he came in sight of Seville, half encircled by 
 the Guadalquivir, proverbial for exquisite beauty. But no 
 sense of beauty, no association with the proud history once 
 enacted on those scenes, had any charm for him, distracted 
 with suspense. Every object or sound that roused a thought 
 spoke to him of his mother and his friend, and of them only. 
 Everything living or moving seemed connected with their 
 fate, hurrying it on. The solemn bells of the distant 
 churches, as they rose and fell upon the morning breeze 
 the great banners waving amongst the towers the crowds 
 that began to gather and hurry towards the city all seemed 
 part of some great drama, to which the subject of his woe 
 was to furnish the chief story. 
 
 And his presentiment was true. He longed, yet feared, 
 to catch the discourse of the moving multitude. It increased 
 as they approached the city, evidently, on that day, the 
 scene of some high festival. At length the one prevailing 
 
40 DAEIEN. 
 
 sentence struck his ear, and ceased not to vibrate there. 
 "Auto-da-fe" was murmured by the aged, as they panted 
 along the dusty road : " Auto-da-fe " was joyfully pro 
 nounced by earnest men, as they pressed forward : " Auto- 
 da-fe" was shouted by boys, as they danced along in glee 
 by their mothers' or their sisters' side : and "Auto-da-fe" was 
 re-echoed by maiden and matron lips. All pressed forward, 
 like faithful children of the Church, full of exultation for *, 
 her approaching triumph, and of glee for their own antici 
 pated pleasure. 
 
 Long afterwards, in a distant land, those countenances, 
 inflamed with zeal and joyful anticipation, glared again on 
 the Moresco's memory, when he witnessed the war-dance 
 of the Caribs, as they rejoiced round captives about to be 
 slain in honour of a demon god. 
 
 Alvarez did not suffer himself to believe that this horrible 
 Auto-da-fe could affect those who were dear to him. He 
 relied on his mother's innocence and angel purity with a 
 faith that scorned all doubt. And Reduan, the self-de 
 voted, the high-souled Reduan, what could the priests, 
 or their bloody rites, have in common with such a man ? 
 
 But still the young Moresco felt a dreadful sickness of 
 the heart as he pressed onwards through the holiday-makers. 
 His eyes had long vainly examined every countenance to 
 seek for the slightest expression of truth. At length he 
 observed a dark-skinned citizen scowling from the shadow 
 of his doorway on the hurrying crowd. To him the wan 
 derer instinctively drew near, and felt a throb of pleasure 
 as his salutation was answered by a few low words in the 
 Moorish dialect. At the same moment, Alvarez was drawn 
 into the passage, the door w r as closed, and inquiries were 
 cautiously made, and fearlessly answered in a forbidden 
 tongue. Then the wanderer was conducted to an inner 
 room, and refreshments were respectfully and hospitably 
 pressed upon him ; but in vain. He was still impelled by 
 a burning curiosity to follow the crowd, and to witness the 
 terrible ceremony that attracted them. 
 
 Thirty " atheists," that is to say, Protestants and Jews, 
 he learned, were to be sacrificed to Grod, as soon as High 
 Mass was ended. Some of the victims, said to be " peni 
 tent," were, in the first instance, to be strangled ; the rest 
 were to be burnt alive ! 
 
DABIEN. 41 
 
 Though still incredulous of this horror, from its apparent 
 impossibility, Alvarez entreated his new-found friend's 
 assistance in guiding him to the scene of the reported 
 tragedy. With the rash candour of a bursting heart, he 
 told him his motive his whole story. The citizen listened 
 with respect and deep compassion. 
 
 " On my head be it," he exclaimed ; "thy servant's name 
 is Hamet, a poor silversmith. I know thy noble house, 
 most honoured by our people. Thy wishes are my law. I 
 know the way whither thou wouldst go but too well. The 
 blood of my kindred has cried to heaven from its accursed 
 stones ere now!" 
 
 As the idea that his mother might be among the victims 
 about to suffer became familiar to his mind, Alvarez felt a 
 transition from his soul-sickening suspense to one of gloomy 
 pleasure. He prepared himself to perish with her, and, in 
 sharing her death-pangs, to avoid the worse agony of 
 surviving her. Sustained by this resolution, he once more 
 plunged into the crowd, now accompanied by Hamet. 
 
 As they approached the Plaza de la Lonja, where the 
 scaffold was erected, they found the mob so dense that they 
 could scarcely penetrate it. By dint of desperate struggling, 
 however, the men of business forced their w r ay through the 
 men of pleasure, and at length they stood beside the fearful 
 theatre. The temporary stage consisted of a platform, a 
 hundred feet square, raised about four feet from the ground. 
 At one end a space was railed off for the Inquisitors, and 
 there, too, was a pulpit for the preacher of the funeral 
 sermon to yet living men. 
 
 A few familiars, dressed in the dark livery of the Holy 
 Office, guarded the steps leading to the platform ; their 
 duty was easy; notwithstanding the excitement and the 
 pressure elsewhere of the crowd, every one shrank with 
 terror from the very eyes of these ministers of the Church's 
 wrath ; those eyes which scarcely seemed human as they 
 rolled about in the black masks that left in mystery all the 
 other features. Close to these men did Alvarez stand 
 for an hour that appeared interminable to his passionate 
 suspense. 
 
 At length, a distant hum was heard among the people ; 
 gradually approaching, it swelled into a sort of gratified 
 roar ; and then at last the straining eyes could discover 
 
42 DAEIEN. 
 
 above tlie crowd a body of mounted familiars, riding four 
 and four abreast, all masked and in long black garments. 
 These were followed by a baud of the friars of St. Dominic, 
 to whose direction belonged the fearful monopoly of these 
 astounding atrocities. Then came "the penitents," those 
 who by the Church's mercy were to be strangled before 
 their bodies were committed to the flames ; many of them, 
 as they were driven along, betrayed in their staggering gait 
 the recent torture which had rung from them sufficient 
 recantation to give the priests a triumph. Behind this 
 wretched band comes another, also clothed in black, with 
 flames of hell painted in vivid colours on the back and 
 breast. But these are not the heroes of the tragedy, for 
 their pictured flames pointing downward, show that they 
 have been reprieved from death. By what treason, weak 
 ness, or murderous falsehood they have purchased life, 
 Heaven and the Inquisitors alone will ever know. 
 
 They pass ; and a shout of execration greets their suc 
 cessors, the destined victims of the Act of Faith. The 
 faces of these poor martyrs are uncovered : their dress is 
 hideously grotesque; some sneering fiend seems to have 
 devised it, in order to detract, if possible, from the sublimity 
 of their martyrdom. A high conical cap on their heads is 
 emblazoned with tongues of flame and fiery serpents ; their 
 robes are ornamented in the same manner, with open- 
 mouthed dogs and grinning devils in addition, which seem 
 to writhe about on the human frames as they totter onward 
 to their doom. Contrasted with their funeral attire, the 
 faces of the martyrs are ghastly pale ; and the torture has 
 left many of them still distorted with the spasms of its 
 dread agony. Yet some of the sufferers bear countenances 
 as placid and resigned as if death had already shrouded 
 them from further cruelty. In their devoted band there 
 are all varieties of age ; stalwart men, and drooping elders, 
 and beardless boys, and female forms as full of loveliness as 
 woe all bound for the same fiery goal. Each is attended 
 on either side by a Jesuit, who will not let the weary soul 
 have rest, but makes continual clamour about repentance 
 and the healing mercy of the Church. 
 
 This group also passes slowly on, with all its horror, 
 visible and imaginative ; and to it succeeds another troop of 
 mounted familiars. Then certain higher officials, followed 
 
DAKIEtf. 43 
 
 by the standard of the Inquisition, a blood-red flag, bearing 
 for its device a cross between a sword and a branch of olive. 
 Finally, the Grand Inquisitor himself approaches, mounted 
 on a " pale horse," and attended by two familiars. 
 
 Every individual belonging to the Holy Office is masked 
 and hooded. The whole procession bears as little of the 
 appearance of humanity as possible. On it moves, beneath 
 God's radiant sunshine, in awful mystery and ghostly 
 silence. 
 
 As it draws near, the most zealous bigots recoil in 
 stinctively from its contact ; every voice is hushed, every 
 heart beats hurriedly ; the whole crowd seems to hold its 
 breath; the sense of triumph is lost in awe. 
 
 If the unconcerned spectators were thus aiFected, what 
 must have been the feelings of the son, who expected to see 
 in every victim that approached the pale image of his 
 mother ! It is true that " great sufferings have great 
 strength;" but it is from the numbness, the overstraining 
 of our faculties produces. Alvarez was almost stifled by 
 emotion ; he could neither hear nor see distinctly what was 
 passing before him ; a dim sense of incredulity as to its 
 reality as to the reality of anything was mingled with a 
 desire to wipe away the mist before his eyes. His brain 
 swarmed with fancies that adapted themselves to the various 
 suppressed noises in his ear. But he could see literally 
 nothing, while glaring with his large bright eyes on all that 
 moved around him. He seemed only to feel the victims 
 coming ; each faltering footfall was audible, so to speak, 
 upon his heart ; but still his eyes refused their office. 
 
 Suddenly, as if broken by a spell, his darkness vanished ; 
 he saw supernaturally irradiated before him the wan but 
 resolute countenance of Heduan, of his noble-hearted 
 friend, faithful to the death. For one moment the vic 
 tim's eyes rested upon his, and were lighted up by a gleam 
 of pleasure and affection ; but the next they were withdrawn, 
 fearful of betraying him, and fixed resolutely as before 
 upon the scaffold. Alvarez would have rushed through all 
 the terrible array of the Inquisitors, and clasped that 
 tottering figure, with all its flames and devils, to his heart : 
 but Hamet, by a strong grasp and suggestion still more 
 powerful, withheld him. Dear to the enthusiastic boy was 
 the stout true heart that beat within yon hideous shroud ; 
 
44 DAEIEN. 
 
 but there was one, far dearer still, who might be yet among 
 the victims that succeeded. 
 
 Thus Alvarez waited waited as each sad form passed 
 by, and at length, with a sensation of relief almost painfully 
 exquisite, he saw the procession close, and his mother was 
 not there! 
 
 The procession was soon re-formed on the scaffold. The 
 prisoners, of all descriptions, arrayed in one dense mass ; 
 their priestly judges standing apart, and between the two 
 parties a pulpit, from which a Jesuit fulminated the ireful 
 censures of his Church upon her victims ; for most of them, 
 his Words were the last ever to be heard from a minister of 
 religion. Though he preached with all the fiery eloquence 
 of the south, it was probably not appreciated by many there: 
 his theme was the glories of the Inquisition, the best sup 
 porter of the Church, how grateful its performances were 
 in the sight of Heaven ; how blessed its agency on the 
 earth ; how merciful it was, how potent, how infallible ! 
 
 After a long discourse, by way of peroration, the Jesuit 
 read over the names and sentences of those who stood 
 before him. Then, turning to the chief magistrate, he 
 delivered his victims to his charge : 
 
 " The Holy Office," he added, in a calm benignant voice, 
 "hath now discharged its duties. The Church delivers 
 these, her rebellious children, over to the arm of this 
 world's law, beseeching that their lives be not endangered 
 and that no blood be shed !" 
 
 A deep-drawn sigh, and an ejaculation of thanksgiving 
 burst from Alvarez, as he heard those words of mercy 
 sounding through the solemn silence. His guardian, 
 Hamet, seized the opportunity to lead him away, and per 
 suaded him to give some repose to his exhausted frame. 
 He assured him that he would do his utmost to obtain an 
 interview with Eeduan, and consult with him on what was 
 best to be done. Lulled by these promises, and borne 
 down with the fatigue of long travel and extreme excite 
 ment, the young Moresco was fain to retire to his new 
 friend's humble abode, and there in a few minutes, he 
 buried all his sorrows in a deep sleep. 
 
 Then Hamet hastened back to the platform. The 
 soldiery had now laden the victims of the Inquisition with 
 heavy chains, and were leading them away to the place of 
 
DARIEN. 45 
 
 punishment, without the city walls. It is unnecessary to 
 say that the Jesuit's recommendation to mercy was a mere 
 form a cruel lie. The condemned were urged along as 
 rapidly as their condition would permit ; some, unable to 
 walk, had their dislocated forms rudely borne along to the 
 final agony. Hamet's struggles to approach the line of 
 march were at last successful, and caught the eye of 
 Reduan, who had been gazing on the ground in deep ab 
 straction. A well-known secret sign revealed to him that 
 Hamet was one of his own race : during the first pause 
 caused by the fall or fainting of some wretch in front, the 
 Moresco whispered to the Jesuit, who still accompanied 
 him 
 
 " I will embrace your faith if you will answer me one 
 question satisfactorily, and first allow me to speak a word 
 to my neighbour, that my soul may be more calm." 
 
 The Jesuit, who believed that the sight of the funeral 
 pyre, which they were now approaching, had converted his 
 penitent, and that he only sought for an excuse to avoid 
 the fiery trial, assented. Hamet, at a look from E-eduan, 
 approached. 
 
 " Tell Alvarez to be comforted," whispered the dying 
 man. " Tell him to seek out Edrisi of the Omarad, and to 
 say to him, ' The emerald is broken.' " 
 
 The silversmith gave one look of intelligence and sym 
 pathy, and was lost in the crowd, endeavouring to escape 
 the chance of being recognised afterwards by any agent of 
 the Holy Office. Keduan turned then to the Jesuit, whose 
 countenance already wore a triumphant expression 
 
 "Tell me," said the Moresco; "are there Jesuits and 
 Inquisitors in that heaven of yours which you offer as the 
 price of my apostacy ?" 
 
 " Unhappy that thou art," exclaimed the priest, " to have, 
 in thy blindness, to ask a question so profane ! Doubtless 
 those true servants of the Church occupy high places in that 
 "blessed world." 
 
 "Enough!" returned Reduan, with a look of scornful 
 defiance ; " I will have none of it. You and yours would 
 make a hell of Paradise. Lead on!" 
 
 The Jesuit recoiled in horror from his expected penitent ; 
 and though he could not help regarding with admiration his 
 unsubdued courage, he called aloud for a gag to stop his 
 
46 DAKIEff. 
 
 blasphemy. That instrument was close at hand. A 
 familiar thrust into his mouth a small iron wedge with a 
 band which clasped behind the head, and the Moresco's 
 voice was hushed for ever. But still with dauntless bearing 
 he moved onwards to the scene of punishment. 
 
 And now that terrible arena is reached, and another roar 
 of exultation rose from the fanatical crowd that thronged 
 the space around it. 
 
 Within that space are thirty tall, stout stakes, each 
 twelve feet high, and each furnished with a rude sort of seat 
 about eight feet from the ground. These stakes are dis 
 posed in two circles, one within the other ; a heap of dried 
 furze and firewood lies piled at the foot of each : in a small 
 brazier, close by, there is a small but very lively fire. The 
 victims, as they arrive, are hurried to their allotted stakes. 
 Ten of them who had professed "penitence," are then 
 quietly, and with horrible sang froid, strangled by the 
 executioners ; their yet warm corpses then hoisted up and 
 chained on the inner circle of stakes. For the " impenitent " 
 a more prolonged suffering remained. A ladder is placed 
 against each stake, and the victim is compelled to mount it 
 until he reaches the seat, to which he is bound firmly with 
 w r et cords, his legs dangling downwards towards the fagots. 
 All this occupies a cruelly long time, though many zealous 
 hands assist. At length all the preparations are completed ; 
 and high over the heads of the eager multitude are to be 
 seen the thirty forms of their doomed fellow-creatures 
 some swaying themselves to and fro, as far as their cords 
 will allow, in agonized suspense ; some proudly, nobly calm; 
 and some scarcely more tranquil the " penitents," whose 
 sufferings are ended, and whose lifeless heads hang down 
 upon their breasts. 
 
 They formed an awful group those martyrs, or whatever 
 else they were, elevated there ; shined on, as if in mockery, 
 by the calm setting sun; while their black robes, with the 
 emblazoned flames and devils, wave about in the breeze, 
 and give an appearance of quivering life even to the dead. 
 
 But the people grow impatient, as at a bull-fight, when 
 they thirst for blood and cry for the matador. Fierce 
 frantic yells salute the victims' ears, and, in a phraseology 
 well understood by the frequenters of such scenes, some 
 voices call out to "Heard them! beard the heretics!" 
 
DAEIEN. 47 
 
 Thereupon, an executioner seizes a long lance, furnished, at 
 the point, with a bunch of furze dipped in oil. This he 
 lights at the brazier, and then thrusts it flaming, into the 
 nearest victim's face, pressing the thorny brand so closely 
 to the mouth as almost to stifle the wild shriek for mercy 
 that burst from the sufferer's lips. 
 
 " Let us see him !" shout the multitude ; " let us see if 
 the bearding is well done ! " The brand is removed, and, O 
 God! what a fearful change has been made in thy 
 handiwork by that inquisitorial touch ! So little of the 
 countenance remained, that, scorched, and shrivelled, and 
 featureless, it seemed no longer human ; the very organs of 
 the voice were changed ; the wretch's shrieks had settled 
 into a faint, prolonged, and wild unearthly moan ! 
 
 And now the fagots beneath are lighted, and the flames 
 with forked tongues dart up and lick the victim's feet at 
 first, and then his knees, which, again contracting in his 
 agony, double up and set fire to the serge upon his breast, 
 which burns moulderingly but kills not. And at the same 
 time the other fagots are lighted, and thirty fires blaze up 
 at once, and there are sounds most horrible to hear, and 
 dark figures writhing in the flames most horrible to see, 
 and overpowering smells of scorching flesh ; and the people 
 are yelling in fierce and frantic glee ; and their inquisitorial 
 priests hold up their hands to heaven and solemnly consign 
 the souls of the departed sufferers to the last the ghostly 
 enemy of man. 
 
 The sacrifice is ended ; the last heart of the heretics has 
 ceased to beat ; consummated is the triumph of the Church 
 of Borne ! Eeaction from their tragic excitement has set in 
 among the people, and the lust of pleasure has succeeded. 
 The multitude disperses, they wander away in groups by the 
 lovely banks of the Guadalquivir ; they fling themselves 
 down at the feet of the old cork-trees ; the alforja the 
 wine-skin is ready at a call ; the tinkle of the guitar, and 
 the thrill of the rebeck is heard through the pleasant hum 
 of voices ; faint perfumes from the orange groves are borne 
 on the evening breeze, and many a cup of wine is quaffed to 
 wash away the horrible savouriness that has been reeking in 
 their nostrils. Sounds of mirth and revelry echo everywhere, 
 and many a cloaked form is gliding along, side by side with 
 the veiled beauties of Seville. 
 
48 DAEIEN 
 
 Suddenly, what would seem to a stranger's eye a miracle, 
 takes place, a solemn peal of bells arises in multitudinous 
 chorus from the distant city. The tones of the blessed 
 Angelus come floating on the ear. At once those varied 
 groups, men, women, and children, start from their wine, or 
 love, or play, and with uncovered heads kneel down upon 
 the ground in humble prayer. Wonderful is human nature, 
 especially in Spain ! 
 
 CHAPTEE V. ; _ 
 
 Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn ; 
 Thy peace destroy'd, thy laurels torn ! 
 
 SCOTLAND'S TEARS. 
 
 "WE turn with horror from such scenes as those by which 
 the Church of Home strove to maintain her supremacy over 
 the minds and bodies of her Spanish slaves. We would fain 
 repudiate all connection with the nature that submitted to 
 such tyranny, almost as much as with those who made 
 themselves its agents. We feel disposed to turn for relief 
 to our own 
 
 " Inviolate island of the brave and free," 
 
 and exult in the glorious Protest that struck the chains of a 
 sanguinary and ruthless superstition from our English souls. 
 But, alas for human nature ! for that nature which, hover 
 ing between fiendish and angelic elements, is ever ready to 
 plunge into the former, and to revel in its darkest depths, 
 until those who resist its impulses stand forth in almost 
 supernatural brightness of relief. When we contemplate 
 the diabolical scenes of persecution that crowd the theatre 
 of history, the victims, laden as they may be with errors of 
 their own, rise into sublime proportions, and attract our 
 sympathies as they represent the nobler qualities of our 
 humanity. 
 
 The men, both real and imaginary, with whom this pre 
 sent story has to do, were born in countries far apart, and 
 as widely contrasted in climate, character, and institutions j 
 
DAKIEtf. 49 
 
 yet they both became exiled in the New World, forced from 
 their several homes by persecution. When I began to trace 
 their respective narratives, this was to me an unforeseen 
 coincidence. I had no intention of dwelling upon the 
 scenes of horror that were then enacting in Spain and Scot 
 land ; for I feel that the exploits of my buccaneers will seem 
 devoid of ferocious energy when compared with the deeds 
 of the minions of His Most Catholic Majesty Ferdinand, 
 and of James II., Defender of the Faith. 
 
 They are all passed away now from European experiences ; 
 buccaneers, and man-burning priests, and proselytizing 
 dragoons ; only their accursed memory lives on, immortal 
 as that of their triumphant victims : their atrocities mark 
 an age of ignorance and moral darkness, to which, by God's 
 blessing, the mind of man can never stoop again. It was 
 by a sure and cunning instinct that those who aimed at 
 despotism, whether spiritual or political, condemned all 
 Education for the People, and its exhalation, public opinion, 
 holding a perpetual tribunal over public men. The village 
 schoolmaster is the true regenerator of' nations, as far as 
 temporal influences can extend. 
 
 And now to our story. We turn from the sunny banks 
 of the Guadalquivir to the shores of the sombre Solway. 
 The former is hurrying the ashes of heretics to the ocean ; 
 the latter is reflecting the watch-fires of Drummond's 
 dragoons. James II., in the plentitude of his power, has 
 let loose his fiercest soldiery upon his Scottish people ; or 
 rather he has hounded them on to a persecution more un 
 sparing than even his brother had enforced. His avowed 
 hope is that the fertile counties on the Border may " become 
 desolate." In solitude alone, like the Roman tyrant, he 
 can hope to find peace. War is in every heart ; wherever 
 he has a subject, there he has an enemy. 
 
 The noblest, the best, and the wisest of his Scottish 
 subjects are exiled, or sleeping in bloody graves. The 
 gentry are ruined by fines, a perverted law, and extortions 
 of a licentious soldiery. Every house is filled with mourn 
 ing for what is past, or fear for what is to come. Gibbets 
 are erected in the villages as memorials of the sovereign's 
 power. 
 
 While death and ruin are thus hovering over Scotland's 
 children, the fields look blithesome, and full of fertile pro- 
 
 9 
 
50 DARIEtf. 
 
 mise as in happier times. The irrepressible energies of the 
 farmer have tilled his fields, though he scarcely knows who 
 shall make harvest there. And heaven's gifts are always 
 the same ; and the rivers flow, and the sun shines, and the 
 wild flowers bloom in Eskdale and JSTithsdale, as if there 
 was no sorrow, or humiliation, or despair, in the eyes that 
 looked upon them. 
 
 The traveller who now explores the happy Border land, 
 and surveys its peaceful fields, and manful, independent 
 peasantry, can scarcely believe in this episode of their past 
 history. No memorials of it now remain but in the tradi 
 tions of the people, perhaps in some of the least amiable 
 qualities of their character ; and in names that convey but 
 little intimation of their ancient application. The title of 
 Cameronian, then signifying the most uncompromising 
 enemy of the throne, is now borne by as loyal and gallant a 
 regiment as ever belted on a bayonet. The Presbyterian, 
 who then vainly sought permission to pray with his people 
 
 ri the mountain side, now honourably enjoys the JfapMMi 
 urn in his manse. Many a broad acre that was then 
 wild moss or heathery brae, is now the wheat-field or the 
 green park. There is almost as much improvement in the 
 country as in the sovereign; as great a difference as between 
 James the Second, and Victoria the First, whom God 
 defend ! 
 
 On the shore of the Solway there stands one brave old 
 ruin, the castle of Caerlaverock, that has known but little 
 change in all those changing times. Beneath its walls there 
 stood, in 1685, a village that has long since disappeared ; 
 and the stones of which it was composed lie around, as if 
 they had been applied to no human purpose since they fell 
 from tower and battlement long, long ago. Only one 
 remnant of a habitation survives, and in that the antiquary 
 can trace all that belonged to the best class of farmers 1 
 houses in the time of the Border wars. On the ground- 
 floor there was one large apartment, which served for 
 kitchen and parlour, and, indeed, all the daily purposes of 
 life, in a mansion not pretending to the dignity of a spence. 
 Adjoining this apartment, and only separated from it by the 
 liuge fire-place, was a sort of dungeon with a vaulted roof, 
 one small window (or rather air-hole), and a door, barely 
 high enough to permit a horse or cow to pass into what was 
 
DAEIEN. 51 
 
 at once their stable, byre, and place of refuge from the 
 weather or the "reiver." Above this rose a square tower, 
 of two stories high ; each story containing one small sleep 
 ing apartment, to which you mounted by a narrow winding 
 stair. On the top of the tower were rude battlements, in 
 keeping with which, all the walls were pierced with narrow 
 loopholes, generally stuffed with hay. The only remaining 
 accommodation that the house afforded was alow "cock-loft" 
 over the kitchen, which the maid of all-work shared with the 
 poultry. 
 
 The last personage who inhabited this house, as our 
 legends tell, was an old man, named Tarn Graeme, or 
 Graham. He had been originally a native of the adjoining 
 village, having in early life joined the Covenanters in their 
 invasion of England, under Lesley. It was rumoured, 
 after some time, that he had gone to sea ; but as he had 
 left the puritanical village of Sandilee in disgrace, few in 
 quiries were made about him. When, at last, with a Scot's 
 true instinct, he returned to his native shore, all his kith 
 and kin had long passed away into their graves. He was 
 soon recognised, however, by some of the elders of the 
 village, though his deeply-bronzed vissage, seamed with a 
 deep scar, presented few traces of the red-haired boy who 
 had been the bully of the village green. 
 
 There was something suspicious about Tarn Graeme's 
 appearance altogether. His dress was rich and foreign- 
 looking. His manner was reserved, even for a Scotchman, 
 and he maintained a perfect silence as to his past life. But 
 what most excited the curiosity of the villagers, was the 
 beautiful little schooner in which he had arrived, and of 
 which he was evidently owner. Her crew had been only 
 taken in at Bristol, whither they soon returned, without 
 giving any information about their vessel, except that she 
 was the fastest craft that ever swam in British waters. 
 That she was of a strange, outlandish build, was very cer 
 tain; "no althegither canny," as some averred. There 
 were marks upon her deck, as if it had once mounted a 
 swivel gun ; and some dark and ineffaceable stains, such as 
 the vulgar imagine that, human blood alone can leave. 
 
 Tarn Graeme, however, cared little then about his 
 neighbours' civilities, and less about their surmises. He 
 .only remained long enough at his native village to lav up 
 
 D 2 
 
52 DAEIEN. 
 
 the Bonito, as his schooner was. called, in security, and then, 
 the cedar wood, of which she was principally built, im 
 parted a strange fragrance among the fishy odours that 
 reeked from the herring-boats around her. 
 
 Tarn betook himself straightway to Edinburgh, where, as 
 Master Graeme, he attracted considerable attention by his 
 display of wealth, and his daring play. Gambling was 
 then a passion among the people of pleasure, even in the 
 austere metropolis of Scotland ; and through its introduc 
 tion, the adventurer obtained easy admission into what 
 were called the best circles. By some means, while his 
 popularity lasted. Tarn contrived to marry a lady who was 
 connected with the ancient and honourable family of 
 Torwoodlee. Almost at the same time, however, he lost 
 nearly the whole of his fortune by an unsuccessful specula 
 tion, and he was fain to retire to his native village of 
 Sandilee. There he endeavoured to retrieve his fortune by 
 smuggling, and his character by field-preaching: he soon 
 succeeded in acquiring a fair share both of money and re 
 putation. Nevertheless his wife, though good and gentle, 
 and loved by all who knew her, did not seem happy. She 
 soon died, and left behind her an infant daughter, named 
 Alice. 
 
 The rugged old smuggler felt far deeper grief than he 
 appeared to do, for the loss of his meek wife. He became 
 more daring in his contraband enterprises on the sea, con 
 sumed more whisky at home, and considerably intermitted 
 in his self-imposed duty of "holding forth upon the hills." 
 But a better result of his sorrow was his increased affection 
 for his lonely child. His patience, though by no means 
 proverbial, was to her inexhaustible, his indulgence un 
 bounded. As she grew up he fondly taught her all the 
 little he knew ; and she learned quickly, for she chose her 
 own time to study. Before she was ten years old, she knew 
 the Old Testament almost by heart, and not a little of the 
 ]N"ew. She was well versed in tales of shipwrecks, the wars 
 of the Jews, and John Knox's opinions on Church and 
 State. Moreover, she could hold the tiller of the Bonito 
 when under easy sail, mix toddy, mend nets, make pretty 
 ornaments out of sea-shells, and sing like a little mermaid. 
 
 In the exercise of such accomplishments, Alice Graeme 
 was growing up into womanhood without suspecting that 
 
, DAEIEtf. 53 
 
 there was any higher sphere of grace or learning than her 
 own, when her father was summoned away to Bristol. The 
 summons was made by an old friend with whom he had 
 been somehow connected beyond seas; the friend lay in 
 prison on suspicion of piracy, and it seemed that Tarn's evi 
 dence might prove so serviceable that his friendship was 
 invoked by the offer of one hundred pounds sterling. Whe 
 ther it was friendship or profit, or that other matters 
 induced him to leave Scotland at that time, it would be 
 difficult to say ; but he determined to accept his friend's 
 offer, and in the meantime sent his daughter to the care 
 of a maiden sister of her mother's who was living at 
 Annan. 
 
 That good lady had been vehemently opposed to the 
 marriage of her young and blooming sister with old Tarn ; 
 but the dead easily obtain the pardon that concerns them 
 not, and the orphan found in her mother's sister a warm 
 welcome. The child's beauty and winning ways, and her 
 very wildness, soon obtained for her own little person all 
 the interest with which her mother's memory at first in 
 vested her. She became to her aunt " as the apple of her 
 eye," as a subject, moreover, for many educational experi 
 ments which Aunt Maggie had hitherto longed in vain to 
 try on human nature in order to its perfection. The good 
 lady's system, if such it could be called, vibrated between 
 the sternest discipline and unbounded indulgence. No 
 punishment could be too severe for errors, no solace too 
 great to atone for their punishment. 
 
 Alice Graeme became in consequence more wayward and 
 capricious than ever, and it was a fortunate incorrigibility 
 that induced her aunt at last to send her to a neighbouring 
 school. 
 
 Meanwhile Tarn had returned from Bristol, accompanied 
 by his friend, abroken-dowii and weary man ; w 7 hose, shaking 
 hand and glassy eye betrayed that he had suffered more 
 from excess than from all the hardship and trial to which 
 his life had been long exposed. During the Cromwellian 
 persecution, while yet a mere boy, he had been transported 
 to Barbadoes as an apprentice. Unable to endure the 
 cruelties to which he was there subjected, he had escaped to 
 -one of the neighbouring islands, 'and after many strange 
 .adventures among the Indians, he had at length joined 
 
54t DAEIEN. 
 
 himself to the buccaneers In St. Domingo. Finally, either 
 struck with remorse, or believing that his end was approach 
 ing, he withdrew himself from his wild comrades, and 
 repaired to England with some small savings. But at 
 Bristol, where he landed, he had been recognised as a pirate 
 by some English sailors, and thrown into prison. On his 
 trial, Tarn, with a high character for piety and respectabi 
 lity, had appeared in his favour, sworn to an alibi, and 
 brought him off triumphantly in the Bonito, whose skipper 
 he thenceforth became. 
 
 Sandie Partan, as this unhappy man was named, was 
 possessed of some qualities that might have made for him a 
 respectable name under more favourable circumstances. 
 He was fearless and truthful; though a pirate, he had a 
 sensitive conscience, and though his manner was rough, he 
 had a kind heart beneath it. The fatal habit of intemper 
 ance, in which he had at first sought refuge from accusing 
 thoughts, had now overmastered him; and he had no friend 
 to encourage him to strive against his temper. Tarn, 
 indeed, prevailed on him to place in his respectable hands 
 all the money that remained to him ; but that venerable 
 smuggler never withheld the means of getting drunk ; 
 these were given for reasons of his own, as well as from a 
 sympathy in the indulgence one of the few that Tarn 
 possessed with anybody. 
 
 Strengthened by the acquisition of this new ally, who 
 was a first-rate seaman, Tarn extended the sphere of the 
 Bonito's operations. Her speed caused her to be in great 
 request in those times of political intrigue ; and more than 
 once Tain received large sums for transporting great per 
 sonages from the country in which their lives were held in 
 forfeit. 
 
 This was an anxious line of business, however ; and while 
 it lasted, the old smuggler was well contented to have the 
 care of his daughter off his hands. By degrees, years 
 began to tell upon him ; various infirmities of his youth, as 
 if watching their opportunity, assumed strength as he 
 grew weak. When they first "lodged a detainer on him," 
 as he expressed it, other diseases poured in their claims. 
 Tarn held out as long as he could, but at last was obliged 
 to confess himself their prisoner, and saw no prospect of 
 release except one, which he was in no hurry to invoke. 
 
DAKIEtf. 55 
 
 Then it was that the old man felt what a blessing he 
 possessed in his daughter. Desolate indeed are those who, 
 in old age, have neither children, nor those recollections of 
 worthy acts which are the worthiest posterity. 
 
 Alice Graeme was summoned to her uncouth home upon 
 the Solway's shore, just as she was dawning into woman 
 hood. She had to part from many hopes, many sources of 
 enjoyment, and many youthful friends, to say nothing of 
 her benefactress, auld Aunt Maggie. 
 
 When the hour of her departure arrived, two mules, 
 under the care of Partan, drew up at the wicket that led 
 into Aunt Maggie's small trim garden. Partan was very 
 sober, and proportionably gloomy ; the mule he bestrode, 
 and that which he led, looked desperately hopeless ; they 
 belonged to an English carrier, and their ordinary solace, 
 a collar of bells, had, as idle gewgaws, been stripped from 
 their necks for the Puritan's service ; whilst a gaunt gray 
 mare that bore two fish-panniers for Alice's luggage, looked 
 almost spectral in the dark misty morning. 
 
 When the parting with Aunt Maggie, and the solemn 
 lecture that accompanied it, were over, Partan saw the 
 house-door open and two girls approaching slowly, locked 
 arm-in-arm, and lingering in their farewell. Alice had hair 
 as black as midnight, with starry eyes beneath it, of un 
 certain lustre, that shone or flashed as her changeful temper 
 was stormy or serene. Her friend was golden-haired and 
 blue-eyed, with a soft dreamy air, and grandly arched eye 
 brows, that spoke of sentiment and romance. These two 
 girls had been zealous friends at school, and the contrast 
 between them lent to their intercourse almost all the mental 
 charm of a different sex. 
 
 As these two fair girls approached, Partan felt himself 
 bewildered with admiration. Such a vision took by storm, 
 as it were, an imagination that had never been prepared 
 for such assault : there is no one like a sailor to feel the 
 force of beauty. The old pirate perceived some undefined 
 sense of blessedness come over him, and a suddenly awaken 
 ing faith in heretofore incredible things. The sunshine that 
 shone upon his heart dispelled that traveller's cloak which 
 many a storm had only folded round him more closely. 
 He thrust an extra quid into his mouth, and received 
 his charge with a look of welcome that was almost aifec- 
 
56 DAKIE^. 
 
 tionate. But Alice was too much absorbed in her own emo 
 tions to regard those of the rugged sailor or the woe-begone 
 mule. It seemed to her that such a parting with her 
 Isobel must be a final one ; nothing less than such a pre 
 sentiment could account for its deep pain. Isobel was the 
 first to speak. 
 
 "Alice!" she sighed, rather than exclaimed; "here you 
 part at once frae girlhood and frae me ! You will, I fear, 
 see neither of us again, ever more. You will soon marry 
 some hero or bold adventurer, who can place a crown of 
 glory on your bright brows. I shall pass away into calm 
 seclusion, seeking to imitate, as nearly as may be without 
 sin, the convent life of the Romanists." 
 
 " Ah, Isobel!" sighed back Alice; "you ken weel that 
 it is not in such manner we shall be separated. I am just 
 sinking into the obscurity of a poor village lassie, and maun 
 soon be forgotten ; while for you, Edinburgh, and all the 
 admiration of this bright admirable world, wait wi' longing 
 eyes !" 
 
 O youth ! how enviable are your prophecies, compared 
 with their fulfilment! 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 And them great god of aqua vitse ! 
 Wha sways the empire o' this city, 
 (When fou we 're sometimes capernoity,) 
 
 Be thou prepared 
 To save us frae that black banditti, 
 
 The Royal Guard. 
 
 FERGUSON. 
 
 THE village* of Sandilee was composed chiefly of fisher 
 men's huts; Tarn Graeme's small "peel," and a public- 
 house, were the principal exceptions to the mud system of 
 architecture. A common, which was green in summer, 
 with a duck pond in the middle of it, formed the centre 
 round which the hamlet lay grouped. Two or three houses 
 in one spot, four or five in another, and so on, shared the 
 shelter of a few gaunt trees, and possessed a common 
 labyrinth of pigsty es and little kail-yards. 
 
DABIEtf. 57 
 
 The common was fringed by the Solway's pebbly shore, 
 which rose steep and high from the water's edge, and yet 
 when the fitful Frith was lashed into anger by the west 
 wind, it would send its foam and spray far and wide over 
 and among the fishermen's cottages. A rude sort of 
 harbour had been constructed where the Nith flows into 
 the Solway, and in its shelter were drawn up about a 
 dozen fishing-boats, with the hardy little Bonito, which in 
 her old age was as ready for work as ever. 
 
 Such was the scene that greeted the dark eager eyes of 
 young Alice Graeme, as she rode into her native village, 
 ,after an absence of many years. Her journey, though, 
 beguiled by Sandie Partan's dismalest stories, had seemed 
 very tedious. Her imagination had clung to the past, had 
 dwelt upon Isobel, and even upon the kind though stern 
 Aunt Maggie ; it rather shrank from the future. Her 
 recollections of Caerlaverock were not very brightly tinted; 
 -but now, as she found herself entering its weedy lane, she 
 found the reality still less attractive than she had pictured 
 it. The whole place looked smaller, the cottages more 
 mean, the paths more dirty, the Solway more sombre than 
 she had imagined them to be. 
 
 Her father was not at home when she arrived. He was 
 away about some business at Tinwald, the manor-house and 
 -small adjoining tract of land belonging to the laird of the 
 village. Wherefore, as soon as the young traveller had 
 changed her riding-dress, she set out to meet her parent, 
 still accompanied by Partaii, who felt too proud of his 
 charge to relinquish it prematurely. 
 
 When Alice had last looked upon the old manor-house of 
 Tinwald, its apparent grandeur had filled her childish heart 
 with astonishment. Its tall gables, its flanking towers and 
 connecting line of battlements, its wide hall-door approached 
 by several steps, the dark pine- wood that rose behind it and 
 stretched away up the hill all these things had impressed 
 the village child with an idea that very great and precious 
 things must be contained within walls so thick, and pre 
 cincts altogether so extensive. She now smiled at her early 
 fancies, as she recognised their origin in a formal old house 
 with half a dozen narrow windows, exclusive of the glazed 
 loop-holes in the towers. 
 
 A stone bench ran along the walls on either side of the 
 
58 DABIE^. 
 
 hall-door, and on one of these was seated the old laird him 
 self, a venerable-looking personage, with silver-white hair 
 falling from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. On one side 
 of him stood the burly figure of Tarn Graeme, in the act- of 
 returning a leathern purse into his capacious pocket ; op 
 posite to him was a comely young man, holding the reins of 
 a horse accoutred for the road, and, with hat in hand, 
 evidently taking respectful but affectionate leave of the old 
 laird. 
 
 Alice and her companion paused by an old hawthorn tree 
 to await her father, and it so happened that this tree was 
 close to the path that the young traveller must take in 
 departing from the manor-house. It stood only about two- 
 hundred yards off, and Alice could trace in the dumb show 
 of the neighbouring group all that passed between the 
 young laird and his sire. She saw her own father retire to 
 a respectful distance ; she saw old Tinwald lean forward, as 
 his son, with old-fashioned piety, knelt to receive his bless 
 ing; and then the young man mounted, and rode away 
 slowly, so far as he was followed by his father's eyes. As 
 soon as he reached the hawthorn tree he was about to start 
 forward at a more rapid pace, when his eyes caught those 
 of Partan. The old sailor advanced respectfully to meet 
 his greeting ; a few words were exchanged, and the traveller 
 passed onward, having made a slight bow of courtesy to 
 Alice, whom he did not recognise. 
 
 Neither could she trace in the tall, pensive man, the 
 features of that boy whom she had known long years 
 before ; who had found her on the shore playing with sea- 
 shells, and had helped her to make a grotto in the rock for 
 her doll ; who had often afterwards sought her out, and 
 given her little presents, and one wondrous book with 
 coloured plates. Since those days, her memory had often 
 reverted to the handsome melancholy boy, but she still 
 thought of him as he then appeared, with long curling hair, 
 a beardless lip, and eyes generally fixed upon a book. 
 
 Partan gazed after his retiring steps, observing, as in 
 soliloquy 
 
 " Ton's a braw chiel for a' that he's sae douce like. I 
 hae seen him abroad the Bonito, in a gale o' wind, when the 
 sea was curling in ' green' ower the deck, and the spars 
 bendin' like a whip, and the crags o' Bute unner our lee ; 
 
DAEIEN. 59 
 
 and he wad be as calm and more grave than ye're ain bonny 
 face wad look in kirk time. An' it's my opinion he lo'ed 
 the danger for its ain sake. But here comes your father, 
 and I doot he has been furnishing mair siller to the auld 
 laird to speed the young ane's travel." 
 
 Alice felt pleased and proud at the suggestion; the 
 natural heart of man, still less of woman, conceives not the 
 mystery of usury ; and the embrace with which she wel 
 comed her father was warmed by respect for his benevo 
 lence, and, perhaps, by gratitude for having assisted her 
 early friend. It was assistance dearly purchased, however ; 
 for the old laird, who kept the state of his affairs, through 
 mistaken kindness, a secret from his son, had already heavily 
 mortgaged his estate to the crafty smuggler. 
 
 That evening, Tarn's house shone with a look of joy and 
 festivity that it had not worn for many a year. The best of 
 his provision smoked upon the large oak table, the brightest 
 of fires roared heartily in the chimney, the most venerable 
 bottles of whisky, and mildewed jars of schiedam studded 
 the board. Tarn's tough old heart had been opened at its 
 only tender place, and gave forth its feelings to his weather- 
 beaten visage, which glowed with the novel joy. 
 
 Oh, woman! whose absence was felt to be a want even 
 in Paradise how far more necessary is your ministry to 
 fallen man ! He may scoff at you, betray you, trample on 
 your love; nevertheless, whatever be his treatment, you 
 rise his guardian angel still. Whether it be, indeed, your 
 nature that refines ours, and creates a standard of purity 
 and honour to which all but fools or villains aspire, though 
 they may never reach it, or whether it be a fortunate super 
 stition that invests you with such powers in either case 
 you preserve or deliver us from our coarser selves ; you 
 give us somewhat to hope for, something worthily to toil 
 for : be it honour or mere bread that we strive to win, the 
 daughter or the mother, the mistress or the wife, comes 
 between us and selfishness, and ennobles our labour. We 
 may be ungrateful for this, among other blessings, and dis 
 parage the gentle heart that is nearest ours ; but still, the 
 very worst of us believes in woman in the abstract, and her 
 ideal haunts us as the one earthly object that our souls ever 
 yearn after ! 
 
 It was curious to see poor Alice Graeme sitting at the 
 
60 DAEIEN. 
 
 father's table, agreeably surprised at a decorum and pro 
 priety that she knew not was of her own creating. Tain 
 spoke like an elder of the kirk, though such was not always 
 his habit amongst his confidential friends. Swilltap, the 
 publican, was either silent or content to echo the opinions 
 of his neighbour. Partan remained heroically sober ; and 
 even Blackbuckit, the captain of a wind-bound collier, did 
 not emit a single oath. And yet, notwithstanding the 
 absence of all the recognised elements of conviviality, never 
 had Tarn's table appeared so cheerful, or his smoky rafters 
 re-echoed such merry laughter. Alice was amused by the 
 novelty of the scene, and excited by her newly-assumed 
 importance as the manager of her father's house. She was 
 actually happy at finding herself under her own roof-tree, 
 and gratified by the kind, proud manner in which her father 
 received her sprightly sallies. Her high spirits were infec 
 tious ; every one brightened up, and even poor Partan half 
 forgot his gloom. 
 
 When Alice retired for the night to her chamber in the 
 tower, however, I do not mean to say that her memory was 
 sufficient to maintain her influence. On the contrary, I 
 fear that the potent spirit, like that in the "Arabian 
 JSTights," unimprisoned from bottle and jar, soon got the 
 better of their deliverers ; and that in toasting the health 
 of fair Alice, the topers made considerable inroads on their 
 own. 
 
 Those were times in which hard drinking was carried to 
 an extent incredible to us, though not perhaps to our grand 
 fathers. Imperfect as are the statistics of the seventeenth 
 century, they testify to a consumption of ardent spirits 
 .greater than what is now consumed by a tripled population. 
 Civilization and refinement are fatal to the Still; they 
 create an infinite variety of small interests, and dissipate 
 into a thousand channels those violent passions for which 
 savages can only find a vent in debauchery or war. Scot 
 land, however, is geographically a spirit-loving country, 
 notwithstanding the staid respectability of its inhabitants. 
 A little further north, and alcohol loses much of its effect 
 on the oleaginous organs of its devotees ; a little further 
 south, and the fiery spirit becomes unfitted to the climate, 
 and unacceptable. Ireland, like Scotland, is in a most trying 
 spirit-latitude, and the misery and the high mettle of its 
 
DARIEN". 61 
 
 people increase the temptation of the joyous Lethean dram. , 
 Some of us can remember when private stills were append 
 ages as natural to an upland farm as a wine-press to a vine 
 yard, and poor Ceres too often lost caste, and sunk into a 
 Bacchanalian drab. 
 
 The people of the "western counties," as they were 
 called, passed their lives in times of sore anxiety and cruel 
 excitement. All great national afflictions used, somehow,' 
 to produce great intemperance ; and the government of 
 Charles II. still more that of his bigoted and cruel 
 brother was afflictive enough to justify any amount of 
 whisky in the eyes of those who sought its dangerous 
 comfort or support. Drummond's " Dragonnade " was 
 then in full force in Galloway and the adjoining counties. 
 Hill-preaching was proscribed as one of the deadliest sins 
 against the State ; and not only the preacher, but any of 
 his hearers, were liable to military execution while they 
 fled, and to a drum-head court-martial when they were 
 arrested. Their sentence was decided by officers imbued 
 with the lenity of Lauderdale, and the decorum of the 
 Cossack, in whose school their Drummond. and Dalzell had 
 fitly prepared themselves for the service of King James. 
 Their troopers lived at free quarters on the peasantry ; and 
 the slightest resistance to their inordinate desires was 
 punished either with the destruction* of their humble cot 
 tages, or the infliction of the lash, the boot, or the thumbi- 
 kin upon their bodies. 
 
 Tarn and his guests, however, had just now forgotten, in 
 conviviality, this and all other sources of vexation, when 
 the tramp of horses was heard, and the hilt of a sabre 
 almost immediately afterwards thundered at the door. A 
 volley of fierce oaths followed, and Tarn was fain to rise and 
 open to those who thus came to demand entrance " in the 
 King's name." A non-commissioned officer, with half a 
 score of troopers at his heels, burst in, cast his eyes round 
 the room as if to examine the inmates, and then called to 
 " his scoundrels to begone and look to their horses ; he 
 would see to their quarters by the time they were done 
 stables." 
 
 The sergeant then, moved to suavity and good-humour 
 by the savoury smells that greeted his nostrils, gave Tarn a 
 friendly poke in the ribs that sent him spinning to the far 
 
62 DABIEtf. 
 
 corner of the room, damned all his guests for a set of 
 white-livered Puritans, and seizing a bowl of toddy, applied 
 it to the mass of moustache that concealed his mouth. 
 That orifice must have been capacious, or capillary attrac 
 tion very strong, for, after a brief application, the bowl was 
 laid down in a reversed position without wetting the table. 
 
 "That'll do well," exclaimed the trooper, approvingly ; 
 " it 's just what my fellows like. Tou may make a bucket- 
 full of it now, at once, to save time. For you," he added, 
 turning to the guests, " I would advise you to get home, for 
 you '11 find yourselves wanted there." So saying, he pointed 
 to the door, and the fugitive topers could observe there 
 were recent stains of blood upon his gauntlet. That dis 
 covery added to their haste, and they withdrew, each to 
 find his house occupied by guests similar to those they had 
 left with their friend Tarn. Partaii alone lingered about 
 the farmhouse ; he had no particular sleeping-place, except 
 the forecastle of the Bonito ; and now, half sobered by alarm 
 and indignation, he determined, as he said, to keep " a spell 
 of watch." 
 
 The rest of the sergeant's party were soon seated with 
 him at Tarn's table. They told truculent stories with high 
 glee addressed each other by the names of various fiends, 
 (in derision of the Puritans, who assumed sacred names,) 
 and quickly dispatched what was left of the interrupted 
 banquet. They then began a deep carouse ; pledging loudly 
 the health of King James, and confusion to all that their 
 host held in veneration. Meanwhile, that personage looked 
 ruefully on from his chimney-corner, thinking, in his (com 
 parative) innocence of heart, that such drinking must soon 
 bring itself to a conclusion. A sudden thought at length 
 seemed to strike Sergeant Blastus, as his comrades called 
 him, 
 
 " After business," he exclaimed, " we may think of 
 pleasure. "What base satisfaction it is (after the first bowl 
 or two) to be content with drink alone, when woman's 
 crowning company may be had by asking. Harkye, old 
 cadaverous, I saw a light in your window up there, and 
 could twig there was a pretty figure inside of it. Jump, 
 you old dogfish, and produce her, or, by the soul of the 
 king, I'll give you three inches of this carving-fork by 
 way of spur." 
 
DARIEtf. 63 
 
 Tarn was by no means what could be called a worthy 
 man. On the contrary, in his youth he had seldom lost a 
 chance of committing any pleasant crime, or in his age, of 
 overreaching ; but he had a stout Scottish heart for all 
 that, which was now sustained by generous whisky, and by 
 the novel sense of a father's responsibility. 
 
 "Young man," he said, firmly; "I will not. Te hae 
 devoured my substance, and set at nought a' the right of a 
 free-born Christian, which I wadna say ye be justified in. 
 But before ye affront my child's hearin' wi' your blasphem 
 ing immorality, ye'll hae to trample on her father's corpse." 
 And, so saying, he set his back against the door that led to 
 her apartment. 
 
 The sergeant laughed, contemptuously " That's a sim 
 pler matter than you think for, old surly," he said, grimly. 
 " But, come we've had enough of that sort of thing this 
 afternoon, and I want to forget it in pleasant company ; so 
 if you won't do the honours of your house, why, I must 
 help myself." Having thus said, he strove towards the 
 door ; when Tarn called out at the top of his weak voice, 
 
 " Ailie, child ! pit the double-bars anent your door, and 
 whatever ye hear, I charge ye, on your soul, stir not till 
 
 morning and " Here he was interrupted by the 
 
 grasp of the sergeant on his throat ; the next moment he 
 was flung under the table, with such force as to render him 
 insensible. The sergeant then ran up the stairs, and 
 attempted to force the upper door, but it was proof to his 
 strongest efforts. Alice, meantime, shrieked loudly for as 
 sistance through her narrow window : but, alas ! there were 
 similar cries from other houses, and the whole village, now 
 lighted up by the flames of a poor fisherman's thatched 
 cabin, presented the appearance of having been given up 
 to pillage. The baffled sergeant was met by the jeers of 
 his now drunken comrades. Swearing a tremendous oath 
 that he would not be baulked, he snatched a burning fagot 
 from the fire, and applying it to the stairs, called out to 
 Alice to come down quickly, or die the death of a witch, as 
 she was. Already the smoke had entered the poor girl's 
 chamber, and she thought that her last hour was come ; 
 when, suddenly, the window was dashed in, and Partan's 
 voice called eagerly to her to escape. She did not hesitate ; 
 and the sailor, carrying her in one arm as if she were a 
 
64 DAEIEN. 
 
 little child, let himself quickly down by an old bowsprit, 
 which he had found lying before a fisherman's hut, and had 
 hastily placed against the wall below her window. 
 
 Just then, as the sailor was hesitating which way to fly 
 with his charge, an officer, accompanied by a young man in 
 plain clothes, galloped into the village. A trumpet sounded 
 its loud call, and immediately troopers, in various states of 
 inebriety, were seen issuing from the houses round, hastily 
 arranging their dress and accoutrements as they fell into 
 their ranks beside the trumpeter. Great as was the licence 
 of that soldiery at times, their discipline was of the sternest 
 description, for every man well knew that Druramond's 
 provost-marshals did their work without appeal. Scorning 
 all other control, their own officers were generally most 
 promptly obeyed by these men. 
 
 The officer who thus summoned his wild followers was a 
 young man, scarcely turned of five-and-twenty. His dress- 
 displayed all the richness that the costume of the time per 
 mitted, and was of the peculiar fashion then worn at the 
 court. His countenance, though now flushed with anger 
 and the light of the burning houses, was naturally unused 
 to any display of passion, frank and kind ; but the sight 
 that he then witnessed, one evidently new to him, was 
 enough to rouse all that was stern in his nature, even if the 
 young man by his side, who was pale as death, had not elo 
 quently adjured him to restrain their course of ruffian vio 
 lence. There is something more sad in the wreck and ruin 
 of poor men's homesteads than in the sack of the stateliest 
 houses. The latter have something of the air of a fortress, 
 and in their violation may be something of power over 
 thrown ; but in the ruined village everything pleads for 
 pity, everything seems helpless, hopeless ; the beds, so bare 
 of furniture, flung out upon the road ; the naked children, 
 the piteous infirmity of the old, the poor little stock of pro 
 visions, the bit of firewood, all that in daily life lies hidden 
 in sad secrecy, now rudely exposed, wasted, jeered at by 
 pampered and bloated bandits, we dare not call them 
 soldiers. 
 
 The troopers from Tarn's house, as they were the most 
 drunken, were the latest to appear, the sergeant last of 
 all, and in a ferociously bad humour. 
 
 " I knew it," he muttered to his comrades, as he reluct- 
 
DARIEF. 65 
 
 antly buckled on his sword ; " I knew that wheyfaced 
 courtier was no more fit for us than a cow for a bull-fight. 
 Here's the second time he has spoiled our little amuse 
 ments, but by " He was interrupted by a voice of 
 
 thunder, commanding him to fall in ; but some evil spirit 
 seemed to have taken possession of him : he looked round 
 upon his comrades, and received a faint cheer for his resis 
 tance. 
 
 "Cornet Seignory!" he exclaimed, "I protest against 
 this interference against men being thus distur " 
 
 'Tallin!" was again shouted, in a voice which every 
 man but the sergeant felt was ominous. 
 
 " I tell you, sir," he exclaimed again, "by " He was 
 
 again interrupted. 
 
 " Seize that mutinous rascal," shouted the young officer ; 
 but his men hesitated to obey. 
 
 "Then his blood be on your heads!" said the cornet, 
 solemnly, as he fired his pistol, and instantly the tall, 
 powerful trooper fell from the stately attitude he had just 
 assumed into a mere heap upon the ground. His fate had 
 been deserved, even in a military point of view, for the 
 drunken troopers had already beg;un to waver and murmur; 
 and in such a case mutiny soon spreads. The effect of the 
 sergeant's punishment was instantaneous ; the troop in 
 stantly formed into as strict order as was possible in their 
 reeling state. They were struck, not appalled, by their 
 young officer's determination. They had not believed him 
 capable of it, and he rose immensely in their consideration 
 as, with his remaining pistol in his hand, he rode slowly 
 along the line, to mark if there were still any waverers. 
 
 Alice gazed on the whole scene with dread and admiration. 
 The young cornet appeared to her school-girl imagination 
 in the light of a hero ; yet the same hurried glance was 
 able to comprehend his companion, young Tinwald, in its 
 admiration; for his self-possession and his self-command 
 seemed to her almost supernatural. Her next impulse was 
 to look round for her father, but he was nowhere to be seen. 
 Tinwald anticipated her thoughts. He earnestly requested 
 that the troopers might be employed in extinguishing the 
 flames, and he himself rushed into the Peel-house to seek 
 for the old smuggler. He found him slowly coming to his 
 senses ; and by the time that the old man was able entirely 
 
 E 
 
66 DAEIEN. 
 
 to recollect himself, tlie village was restored to some sort of 
 order, and the flames extinguished. The troopers who had 
 refused to arrest their sergeant, first dug for him a hasty 
 grave ; and then all, except a strong patrol, headed by the 
 young cornet himself, were allowed to return to rest in the 
 least obtrusive manner they could assume. 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 Francesca, sweet, innocent maiden ! 'tis not that thy young cheek 
 
 is fair, 
 Or thy sun-lighted eyes glance like stars through the curls of thy 
 
 wind-woven hair; 
 
 'Tis not for thy rich lips of coral, or even thy white breast of snow, 
 That my song shall recall thee, Francesca ! but more for the good 
 
 heart below. 
 
 Goodness is beauty's best portion a dower that no time can reduce ! 
 A wand of enchantment and happiness, brightening and strengthening 
 
 with use ! 
 One the long-sighed-for nectar, that earthiness bitterly tinctures and 
 
 taints ; 
 
 One the fading mirage of the fancy, and one the Elysium it paints. 
 
 I). F. MCCARTHY. 
 
 THE next morning, long before the reveillee sounded, the 
 village was astir, but no one yet attempted to repair their 
 damages. Daylight dawned upon a lamentable scene, which 
 was then too common to excite much commiseration, though 
 Sir Standon Seignory, the young cornet, was new to such 
 spectacles. Deeply moved by the misery of the poor 
 villagers, he rode from house to house, dispensing out of his 
 purse such liberal comfort, that most of the fishermen would 
 have welcomed another assault but for the humiliation of it. 
 They regarded with astonishment an officer who, though 
 clad in the king's dread livery, appeared to feel pity and 
 sympathy for the people. His own soldiers, had they wit 
 nessed their officer's liberality, would have looked upon him 
 with contempt. 
 
 Before long, the troop was mustered and rode away; 
 their cornet being the last to leave the village, followed by 
 the reserved, but deeply-uttered blessings of the people. 
 
DAEIEtf. 67 
 
 Young Tinwald accompanied him for a short distance, and 
 expressed his admiration of his conduct very heartily. 
 
 "I have no doubt, however," replied the young officer, 
 " that old Drummond will look upon it in a very different 
 light. His favourite expression is, that the mettle of 
 soldiers should never be checked, as it cannot be restored. 
 It may be so. I was set upon this service against my will, 
 and I care not how soon I leave it, if I can do so without 
 dishonour." 
 
 "And may I ask," said Tinwald, "how you, with your 
 gentle, generous feelings, could ever have become engaged 
 in this bloody service, especially as you have a high position, 
 and a large fortune, that must make you independent of any 
 favours to be obtained from king or courtiers ?" 
 
 " You know," replied Sir Standon, " that my father was a 
 zealous courtier, and before he died, rejoiced to see me 
 settled, as he thought, in the late king's favour. Somehow, 
 one gets accustomed to like a life of courts, to think every 
 thing outside its sphere insipid. I found some favour with 
 King James, and might have held my appointment in peace ; 
 but one day I happened to express my surprise at the ex 
 treme measures pursued against this unhappy country. 
 My speech was reported to our king, (whom Heaven pre 
 serve !) and his majesty took umbrage at it. The next day 
 I received an order to repair to this my regiment, in which 
 I had long held a commission, though I had never seen it. 
 As it was on actual and somewhat dangerous service, I 
 could not hesitate to join. Last week was my first ex 
 perience of military life. The day before yesterday I was 
 sent on detached service, in order, I suspect, to try me ; 
 and that poor devil of a sergeant was employed as my bear 
 leader; so perhaps I was wrong in visiting his offence so 
 severely. But I felt that I had no help for it ; and besides, 
 he richly deserved such a fate for his unsparing cruelty to a 
 wretched set of Cameronians, whom we were called on 
 yesterday to disperse. I think he cut down half-a-dozen 
 with his own hand, after I had had the recall sounded." 
 
 "He was most righteously punished, in my opinion," 
 replied Tinwald ; " and if my humble testimony can avail 
 anything, I pray you command me." 
 
 "To say truth," said the officer, "it would do me no 
 service, though I thank you for your offer. Nay, though 
 
 E 2 
 
68 DAEIEN. 
 
 contrary, perhaps, to the strict letter of my duty, I will 
 confess to you that your name is on the list of the sus 
 pected. You have been ' delated' of harbouring rebels, and 
 abetting their obstinacy. For the sake of old acquaintance, 
 I must conjure you to be cautious about this matter in 
 future, for our rulers are as insatiable in fines as they are 
 ruthless in other respects. With this I must bid you God 
 speed, for I have to meet my commanding officer at Tra- 
 quair by noon, and I must press on my people to be in 
 time." 
 
 He joined his troop. They moved on rapidly over the 
 hill, across the Lochar Moss, their steel caps and brilliant 
 accoutrements glittering in the morning sun. Tinwald 
 gazed after them, and then, as he turned his horse's head 
 towards home, exclaimed, " Pity that such a brave pageant 
 should suggest nothing but deeds of oppression that sully 
 their cause, and cruelties that degrade their valour. And 
 yon poor youth, their leader, with his fine but unstable 
 character, how much he is to be pitied in being condemned 
 to such a service! " 
 
 Sir Standon Seignory, who was thus compassionated, was 
 a baronet of ancient family and large estates in Yorkshire. 
 He had visited Edinburgh as page to the Duke of York, 
 during that prince's brief but odious government of Scot 
 land. One evening, the page, with another of the duke's 
 attendants, was set upon in the streets of Edinburgh, and 
 had been rescued by Tinwald and some of his youug associates 
 at college. Thence sprung an acquaintance which, after a 
 long interruption, had been renewed on the previous day. 
 As Tinwald was journeying from his father's house, he had 
 met the advancing troop commanded by Sir Standon ; the 
 latter had courteously explained his commands to quarter 
 for the night at the old Manor-house, and Tinwald had con 
 sequently returned to do the honours of his home. The 
 uproar in the village had alarmed them just as they were 
 retiring to rest, and hence their sudden appearance in the 
 height of the disturbance. 
 
 On his return to Sandilee, the young laird found the 
 people busily engaged in repairing the disasters of the 
 night before. They wrought cheerfully at their work, 
 especially the fisherman, the flames of whose cottage had 
 lighted up the scene. He now boasted that he himself set 
 
DABIEtf. 69 
 
 fire to it rather than endure the insults and sinful language 
 of the troopers, which he feared would bring the rafters 
 down about his ears. " And two hundred pounds Scots " 
 (10), he added, gleefully, "that the man of sin paid me, 
 will make her a bonnier shieling than she ever was afore." 
 
 Old Tarn was sleeping off his terrors on a temporary bed 
 on his kitchen-table, and his daughter was sitting alone on 
 the sea-shore. There she meditated ruefully on what 
 seemed to her like a troubled dream, and wondered whether 
 every night in the country was like the last, and whether 
 people's rest was always broken by such demons, and the 
 disturbance atoned for by such heroes as the cornet and the 
 young laird. How grand they had looked, as the fierce fire 
 light glared on them, and all the angry faces of the soldiers! 
 What a story it would all be for Isobel ! 
 < While thus she was musing, the fatigue of the past night 
 gradually prevailed over her. The waves were murmuring 
 softly and monotonously at her feet ; the soft south wind 
 played upon her cheek, and stirred her tresses gently on 
 her breast. Sleep crept over her senses, and gradually re 
 laxed her attitude into that which harmonized best with 
 her fairy-like figure. Beautiful as a dream herself, she 
 softly entered into the land of dreams. 
 
 The way from the village to the Manor-house lay along 
 the shore ; the tramp of Tin wald's horse produced no sound 
 from the silent sand. The rider dismounted, and approached 
 Alice unperceived ; he was at first alarmed on finding her 
 there alone, so pale and still and unconscious. But as he 
 gazed breathlessly on the unexpected vision, he saw with 
 delight a faint colour flushing through the whiteness of her 
 cheek, whether it was the warmth of sleep, or a dim dreamy 
 sense of his presence that brought it there. He bethought 
 him that it was that it might be right to watch over her 
 for a little ; perhaps to offer his services, or at least to in 
 quire how it fared with her after her recent escape. While 
 these thoughts were passing through his mind, some strong 
 and subtle spell seemed to steal into his heart. He had 
 never before felt the existence of that organ, except in its 
 beating. He now recognised a sort of aching sense per 
 vading it ; something palpable seemed to press upon it. Ac 
 cording to the rigid mode of education that then prevailed 
 in the sect to which he belonged, he had been almost as 
 
70 DAEIEff. 
 
 much secluded from female society and presence as if he 
 had been a monk. All the vague intuitive thoughts con 
 cerning women that had from time to time visited his ima 
 gination, now assumed a visible and most lovely shape. 
 The fascination rushed in upon him at once, like the 
 Solway's tide, breast high. 
 
 Meanwhile the sleeper's rest became troubled ; her 
 spirit became conscious of the presence of the earnestly- 
 gazing eyes that were invisible to her corporeal conscious 
 ness. Tinwald, with a strong effort, retired softly, and at 
 last rode away, leaving a dream behind him with her, who 
 returned to deep sleep when she felt that nothing but earth 
 and sea and sky were round her. 
 
 The old man was overjoyed to find his son returned ; still 
 more so when he professed himself contented to remain at 
 home, and take care of the household gods. Eor the lad 
 had been ever prone to rambling, and at times had even 
 betrayed longings to visit distant regions of the earth, that 
 in those days appeared to be surrounded by unspeakable 
 dangers. This erratic tendency was " the only ae thing he 
 ever faulted in douce Willie," in whom he vested all the 
 pride that his old heart could hold. 
 
 And well might he be proud of him ; for Scotland, in all 
 her brave array of worthies, boasts no peaceful name more 
 honourable than that of William Paterson. All vulgar 
 fame of him was soon lost in the misfortunes that clouded 
 over his bright star ; but the star itself shines on for all 
 eyes that will seek for it, in its own high region of pure and 
 benevolent speculations which float above the world's be 
 wildering and misty atmosphere. 
 
 But it was not for his genius or his grand conceptions, 
 that the old laird honoured as well as loved his son. It 
 was for the spotless purity of his life, for his high sense of 
 honour, his disinterestedness, his self-control. His learning 
 was extensive, but unostentatious and unpretending, as 
 becomes the true dignity of a scholar. His sobriety was 
 such that he was never known to taste any beverage but 
 water,* and yet his energies were indomitable as they were 
 concentrated and calm. The absence of all selfishness 
 seems to have been a positive defect in his character ; it in 
 volved the want of that ever-earnest, striving, combative 
 , * See Dalrymple's " Memoirs." 
 
DAKIEN. 71 
 
 spirit, that " o'ermastering will " so generally essential to 
 the advancement of all worldly interests. 
 
 The personal appearance of this singular man was, as it 
 were, an index of his moral qualities ; tall and upright in 
 figure, with clear blue eyes, a forehead high rather than 
 broad, an energetic nostril, and a grave benevolent-looking 
 mouth. Such was the man who revealed to the poorest and 
 most persecuted nation in Europe the most brilliant colonial 
 speculation that ever engaged the human mind. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 Nature never made 
 
 A heart all marble ; but, in its fissures, sows 
 The wild flower Love ; from whose rich seeds spring forth 
 A world of mercies and sweet charities. 
 
 BAKKT CORNWALL. 
 
 TIME passed on, and all traces of the trooper's visit to 
 Sandilee had disappeared. Rumours of dark atrocities, such 
 as the execution of the " Christian Carrier" * and the " Two 
 
 * John Brown, of Lanarkshire, received this appellation from his 
 religious life and irreproachable character. His only crime was non- 
 attendance at the public worship of the Episcopalians. Claverhouse 
 himself found him, as he was at work upon the moor that surrounded 
 his lonely cottage. When examined, he confessed the fact of his non 
 conformity, and Claverhouse ordered his instant execution. The poor 
 fellow knelt down upon the ground before his own door, and prayed 
 earnestly ; his wife and little child shrieking for mercy at his side. 
 For once, even that soldiery shrank from the office of executioners. 
 Claverhouse in a fury drew out his own pistol and shot the " Christian 
 Carrier " dead before his prayer was done. 
 
 The " Two Margarets " were aged, one eighty years, the other only 
 eighteen ; but they had the same constancy. They refused to con 
 form, and were hurried away to the Solway shore, where the tide rises 
 very rapidly. There the older woman was fastened to a stake near 
 low-water mark, and the maiden to one higher up, so that she saw 
 her old companion first slowly and painfully drown : but she would 
 not recant. As the water rose to her own knees, and on to her bosom 
 and her throat, she still sang psalms and refused to listen to the voice 
 of those who conjured her to yield. At length her voice was hushed 
 by the waters. Then, half-drowned, she was dragged on shore and 
 once more offered life, but in vain ; she was still firm, and was flung 
 into the Solway to perish. 
 
72 DAEIEN. 
 
 Margarets," from time to time reached the village ; but its 
 own remoteness and insignificant population saved it from 
 similar visitations. 
 
 Tarn Graeme had never wholly recovered from the 
 sergeant's rough handling, and now seldom left his house. 
 He withdrew from all active business, and it is believed that 
 his professions of piety were no longer hypocritical. Whe 
 ther it was the presence of his daughter, or the serious con 
 siderations engendered by the nearer view of death, that 
 produced this change, might be uncertain even to himself. 
 
 But though his outward life became decorous, and his 
 habits of intemperance reformed, the Tempter still re 
 tained one strong hold in his heart. The passion of co- 
 vetousness increased as others lost their strength, and the 
 poor sinner's meditations were shared between future gain 
 and past guilt. Partan had unintentionally increased his 
 craving after gold into a passion. In one of his drunken 
 fits of confidence, he had revealed to the old smuggler that 
 he knew of a certain rich treasure buried by the Spanish 
 Main ; and visions of that treasure haunted Tarn's imagina 
 tion perpetually. Indeed, but for this, he would probably 
 have separated himself from Partan altogether, as disrepu 
 table, and a bar to his progress in well-doing ; for Tarn was 
 selfish even in the most unselfish of all things his Christian 
 creed. 
 
 Partan, therefore, not only maintained his seat in Tarn's 
 chimney-corner, (though he never darkened the kirk door,) 
 but, unfortunately, was still supplied with an unlimited 
 allowance of his fatal beverage, in the hope of eliciting 
 some further revelation of his important secret. However, 
 he preserved the most profound silence, saying, when 
 pressed upon the subject, " that it was the deil's treasure 
 laid up by the deil's men, and wae wad he be that howkit 
 at it now." Moreover, he had made a solemn vow never to 
 cross the seas again, " and sae, there was an end on't." Tarn 
 was of another opinion. 
 
 Meanwhile, young Tinwald had adapted himself to the 
 habits of country life, and divided his time between his 
 favourite studies and the care of his father's farm. The old 
 laird observed this with infinite satisfaction, only che 
 quered by fear that his son would become acquainted with 
 the embarrassment of his estate, and lose heart under such 
 
DABIEtf. 73 
 
 a discovery. His hope had once been that his son would 
 enter into holy orders, and thus secure for himself an inde 
 pendence, as his grandfather, who died Bishop of Glasgow, 
 had done before him. Episcopacy was still the law in 
 Scotland, and promised preferment for one so rarely quali 
 fied to support it as William Paterson. But the young 
 laird was not thus minded, though some of his meagre 
 biographies have represented him as a preacher. He had 
 too much sympathy with his suffering fellow-countrymen, 
 to join himself to such a body as then disgraced - their 
 sacred calling by. persecution ; and so, though a true son of 
 the Church, and, moreover, grandson of a bishop, he pre 
 ferred retaining his layman's independence. 
 
 Besides all this, the love of travel, the most unquench 
 able of loves, had taken possession of his heart. He pined 
 in the narrow limits of his native parish ; and desired to 
 enter on a wider sphere of observation, with a longing that 
 nothing but filial piety could overcome. As he saw more 
 of Alice, however, another feeling began to weave round him 
 an almost imperceptible coil, and rendered the air that she 
 breathed, the soil that she trod, more endurable nay, more 
 precious in his eyes. He often found himself strolling by 
 the sea-shore with Partan, though he ceased to make long 
 voyages in the Bonito. He had always listened with 
 avidity to the buccaneer's stories of the distant lands which 
 he so desired to visit, and now he took a greater interest in 
 the old man, because he was almost domiciled with Tarn 
 Graeme's fair daughter. 
 
 In short, the young student was more than half in love, 
 and more dangerously so, because he was unconscious of it. 
 
 Partan, at this time, enjoyed a double share of popula 
 rity, for Mistress Alice was also fond of listening to his 
 wild stories of the Spanish Main. That romantic region 
 was then a fertile source of dread interest, for few Britons 
 engaged in lawful pursuits had ever approached it with im 
 punity. But the village girl knew nothing of the crimes 
 associated with its very name, and she was keenly alive to its 
 romance. 
 
 The Bonito was now laid up upon the shore, and Partan's 
 chief occupation consisted in watching affectionately over 
 his favourite " boatie," and occasionally repairing her deli 
 cate frame. Often in summer, while thus employed, Alice 
 
74 DAEIEN. 
 
 would carry her spindle to the shore, and as she spun, 
 would listen to the old sailor's stories until she had wormed 
 out of him many an adventure that was never intended to 
 be known beyond the bright blue sea or palmy shore on 
 which it had occurred. By degrees the names of Morgan 
 and the fierce Olonois, and the exterminating Montbara, 
 and other buccaneers, became familiar to her imagination as 
 undoubted heroes. Of course their atrocities were passed 
 over, or closely veiled by their reformed follower, and only 
 their supernatural bravery and occasional fits of generosity 
 dwelt upon. At times the garrulous old sailor (for he was 
 garrulous to Alice, though silent and surly to most others) 
 introduced young Tinwald into the category of his heroes, 
 and described how he united, in his own nature, all the 
 glorious qualities of a buccaneer and the excellences of a 
 "gude Christian." 
 
 The frequent introduction of this personage into Partan's 
 stories, by no means detracted from their interest to Alice. 
 Every young heart is as a shrine which feels a painful sense of 
 vacancy until some image, real or imaginary, is enthroned 
 there. Partan's hero was at once raised to that sweet pe 
 rilous position by the village beauty; and having so 
 adopted him, she was never weary of hearing his praises 
 sung by the old seaman " Sae wise was he, and sae gra 
 cious ; as bauld as a gamecock and as gentle as a doo." 
 
 It was thus that Partan himself soon became an object 
 of interest to the lively and imaginative Alice. He had 
 the reputation of being misanthropic, a character of all 
 others least intelligible to a young and kindly heart over 
 flowing with love to all created nature. He was an object 
 of mystery, too, for no one knew from whence he came, 
 and his accent alone betrayed his Scottish origin. In his 
 youth he must have been a man of large and comely pro 
 portions, though premature decay and dissipation had bent 
 his frame, and a Avound or some other accident had almost 
 disabled his left leg, and given him an ungainly gait. He 
 was never known to converse willingly with any of the 
 villagers ; when not employed, he would sit for hours on 
 some solitary rock, gazing at the sea : those who at such 
 times caught glimpses of his countenance, declared that it 
 wore an aspect of ferocity they might have said more 
 truly, of despair. In outward observance, the old seaman's 
 
DAEIEtf. 75 
 
 life seem blameless, but for the one old fault, which in 
 those days was scarcely deemed a vice. He could not re 
 sist the temptation of strong liquors, whenever, or by whom 
 soever offered; and this was scarcely to be wondered at, 
 for, under their false support, he would rise out of his usual 
 despondency into the bold and manly bearing that once 
 must have been natural to him. To the thoughtful eye, 
 such lucid intervals were sadder than his darker state. 
 
 Tinwald, who exercised a sort of missionary vocation 
 amongst his people, had often tried to rescue his humble 
 friend from this besetting sin, but of course in vain. Such 
 a reformation can only be effected by the sinner himself, 
 and requires energies on his part that he can command no 
 longer ; hence its hopelessness. Nor was our young phi 
 losopher's mind altogether at ease on its own account. A 
 vague sense of remorse haunted all his thoughts connected 
 with Alice, and he had few that were not so connected. It 
 appeared to him just possible that she might come to care 
 for him ; and if so, what might be the consequences ? His 
 father's pride would never listen to his son's marriage with 
 the child of a disreputable and obscure old sailor ; and his 
 own irrepressible yearning to travel imposed another ob 
 stacle, though not so strong a one. 
 
 Many swift-footed months had gone by, and notwith 
 standing all these considerations, the young laird found 
 himself growing daily more intimate with Alice Graeme, 
 and gradually became a frequent inmate of her father's 
 house. Unrestrained by any of the prudential considera 
 tions that disturbed his mind, the village girl gave herself 
 up without reserve to the pleasure of his society. 
 
 A lovely, loving child of nature was this Alice Graeme : 
 agonised by trifles, heroic under trials ; scornful of the 
 restraint of others, timid and diffident where her own sense 
 of delicacy was concerned. Longing to love and to be be 
 loved, yet severe towards herself and wayward with her 
 lover, when an object worthy of her aspirations was dis 
 covered : yet she only saw him through the colouring 
 prism of imagination that has beguiled so many, from Eve 
 downwards. She saw Tinwald moving upon the earth as 
 one superior to all mankind ; his figure appeared to her too 
 noble to be disguised in the common garb of mere hu 
 manity; his far-ranging thoughts, his grand conceptions, 
 
76 DARIEK. 
 
 were the standard by which she measured his soul, and its 
 dimensions seemed to her, though graceful, yet gigantic. 
 Had his manner towards her been lofty and condescending, 
 she would have bowed before him in deferential love. But 
 her woman's pride and sense of privilege was awakened and 
 cherished by Tinwald' s humility towards her. Why should 
 she not accept the crown that a heart like his would place 
 upon her brow ? Why not ascend a throne which such a 
 sovereign spirit had offered her ? In short, she felt in 
 clined to play the queen the tyrant if only for the power 
 of descending hereafter from her high estate graciously to 
 bless her subject. 
 
 And strange to say, this treatment suited Tinwald. It 
 gratified even his chastened pride to feel that his allegiance 
 was accepted by one who bore herself as if she had a right 
 to receive it ; whilst it absolved him from the painful sense 
 of having won affections that he might never be able law 
 fully to claim. " Let what may betide," thought he, " it is 
 I alone who can suffer; she looks on me with condescension, 
 or at most with compassionate sympathy. I am free to act 
 as my destiny seems to dictate, without incurring any pe 
 nalty but that which my own heart may suffer from aban 
 doning what is loveliest to it of all earthly things." 
 
 This sad security of her lover was the price that Alice 
 paid for the gratification of her vanity and waywardness ; 
 and such will be the case oft recurring whilst the world 
 endures. These two young spirits were each awed and de 
 ceived by the fancied superiority of the other; and therefore 
 Tinwald, the young philosopher, thought he might freely 
 enjoy all that he could obtain of the society he loved, and 
 do no wrong. Header ! did you never labour under a 
 similar delusion? 
 
 One summer Sabbath evening, Alice had wandered forth 
 upon the shore, to watch the sunset and enjoy the contem 
 plative silence of an hour when all earth and sea seems 
 settling to repose. On passing a projecting rock, she came 
 suddenly and unperceived on Partan. He was leaning 
 moodily against an old anchor that had almost crumbled 
 away in its own rust. The sunset was shining softly on 
 his weather-beaten visage, and threw the shadow of his 
 gaunt figure in strong outline on the sands. 
 
 Alice was struck by the picture that he presented. But 
 
DAHIEN. 77 
 
 she soon ceased to enjoy its picturesqueness when she ob 
 served the pained and sullen expression of the features on 
 which heaven's loveliest light was shining so serenely. 
 That worn old face, however, lighted into a welcoming 
 smile when Alice approached him : making a rude sort of 
 reverence, he said "that he had just been thinking to seek 
 out Mistress Alice and to ask her advice." Then without 
 further preamble he proceeded to say, that he was getting 
 old, and sometimes very infirm, and he did not know the 
 hour when he might be released from earth. 
 
 "Noo, leddie," he continued, " amang mony a darker 
 secret, I hae ane that might belike turn to good, ant 
 came frae other lips than mine. Your father, leddie, wad 
 gie his ears to hear tell o' a treasure which I ken lies buried 
 in a certain spot in the West Indies ; but it might be bet 
 ter for him, seeing he is sae auld, not to larn what wad 
 fash his avaricious saul, and unsettle ony bit o' peace he 
 may hae found." Here he was interrupted by Alice, who 
 exclaimed indignantly, " You may mean well, but you 
 strangely forget yourself." 
 
 "Would God I could! would God I could!" exclaimed 
 the old man, with passionate bitterness. " Weel, I mun 
 crave yer pardon, leddie. I'm little wont to gie or tak' 
 salt words ; and if yer pure heart see nae harm in't, I'll 
 e'en tell yer father, the nicht, and let him do as he wull wi' 
 it. 'Twad harm him less, may be, to trade awa' the bit 
 boatie to the West at ance, than to be smuggling on these 
 coasts and not mak' as muckle in a hunder year as I sail 
 pit him in way o' winning in ae hour. An' he kens some 
 thing o't already." 
 
 " Speak not of it this night, at all events," answered 
 Alice; "it is the Sabbath, when all earthly thoughts should 
 rest." 
 
 " Aweel, aweel, leddie, be it sae ; gude is it for sic as can 
 rest ; I'll just bide a bit, and consult the young laird about 
 the matter first." 
 
 Soon after this interview, Partan and Tinwald met at the 
 old smuggler's house. The latter was ostensibly detained 
 there by the weather, which, until lately, he had been accus 
 tomed utterly to disregard. The tempest howled without, 
 and the Solway roared ; but within, the cheerful blaze rose 
 high, and the old seafarers, one in each ingle nook, smoked 
 
78 DARIEN. 
 
 their pipes, and sipped their toddy, and spun old yarns of 
 such storms long ago upon the high seas. In front of the 
 fire sat Alice, spinning at the humble yet graceful wheel, 
 which paused from time to time in its pleasant whirr when 
 ever the laird joined in the old men's talk. Gradually, 
 however, the young people became absorbed in their own 
 conversation, and the old seafarers fell into more con 
 fidential chat. 
 
 "And sae," muttered Tarn to his comrade, "ye wull 
 no tak' the bit boatie ayont the seas to the Lugies and 
 seek for the buried gowd ? You're aith, hech ! I hae heard 
 eneugh o' that aith agen crossing the line. Ye wad no be 
 sae strict 'gin it were agen whisky ye war pledgit." 
 
 "I'm no an elder o' the kirk," retorted Partan, "or 
 aiblins I might counsel ye to hae mair respec' to a sworn 
 aith. But an ye maun hae the grave-gold howkit up, ye 
 maun e'en do it yersel'. I will specify the spot till ye, and 
 a small pairt will aye content me for my share. I get auld, 
 and hae few wants the now, forbye what the aits and barley 
 can supply at a sma' rate." 
 
 Tarn filled the old sailor's beaker to the brim with the 
 fiery spirit that had made a wreck of as stalwart a form 
 as ever trod a plank. Partan looked round a little bash 
 fully, but seeing Alice and Tinwald's attention engaged 
 with one another, he extended his trembling hand to 
 receive the delusive poison. As he gulped it down, his 
 dimmed eyes recovered their lustre, his hand ceased to 
 shake, his voice sounded no longer hollow from his sunken 
 chest ; he looked, spoke, and perhaps felt like a man. His 
 destroyer had given him a lucid interval, as usurers from 
 time to time feed the extravagance of their destined 
 victims. 
 
DAEIEN. 79 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The pang, the curse, with which they died, 
 
 Hath never passed away ; 
 I could not draw my eyes from theirs, 
 
 Nor turn them up to pray. 
 
 COLERIDGE. 
 
 THE wind now blew a gale, and the Solway roared more 
 fiercely beneath its fury, but the fire only burned the 
 brighter, and Alice's sweet voice was carolling an old ditty 
 to Tinwald, whose ear was deaf to every other sound. Tarn 
 was too intent on the topic of the buccaneer's buried 
 treasure to heed either song or storin, and Partan, already 
 in the seventh heaven of intoxication, was carried back in 
 imagination to the scenes of his youth upon the Spanish 
 Main. So busy was he with these crowding memories, that 
 Tarn found it necessary to recall him to the subject of the 
 treasure. 
 
 " How was it, comrade," said he, in a low confidential 
 tone, " that you never spoke clearly to me o' this matter 
 until last nicht?" 
 
 " I never thought to have telled it till ony ane," replied 
 Partan ; " but somehow, when I was in my drink, I got 
 thinking on yon bonnie lassie, and how that that evil 
 treasure might turn to glide in sic hands as hers ; an' if I 
 died this nicht (and I'm but a puir broken down carle, God 
 help me !) the knowledge of it wad be lost a'thegither ; and 
 now that my heart's open, I'll tell you, Tarn, what cost me 
 a fearful exper'ence to larn ; an' when I'm gane, or when 
 ye find an able and willin' callant to do your wark, he'll 
 just find the treasure as easy as he'd find the North Star 
 on a frosty nicht. 
 
 "Ye'll mind that the French buccaneers were aye a 
 shuperstitious set o' deils. I wot na weel which were 
 waur, their profanity or their papistry. Now, ye yersel' 
 took but a short turn amang us, and did na learn half their 
 ways. One trick they had, that if a man got hold o' ony 
 considerable treasure he wad hide it on some lanely spot 
 until he was free of the Brotherhood ; and could seek it in 
 safety to gang awa' till Europe, and spend it like a 
 Christian amang wine and women. Now, ye'll see it wasna 
 
80 DAEIEN. 
 
 easy to have this treasure watched by the living, sae they 
 were desirous to hae it in safe keeping o' the dead ; and I 
 often heard tell that they made their Ingian slaves, or some 
 Spanish pris'ner, dig the hole and bury the gold, and then 
 they cut his throat upon the spot, and his wraith was be 
 lieved to haunt it for aye after. Ah, Tarn ! I ken some 
 spots that, far frae papish as I be, I wadna come near by 
 nicht for a' the gowd aneath the sun, spots that by day 
 look all green and lovely like ; but by nicht, ah ! they be 
 peopled wi' ghaists, moving to and fro, shadowy-like, and 
 sounds unearthly and faint to the ear, as the shadows to 
 the een. Many a man has laid down treasure there, but 
 few have ever howkit it up again. 
 
 " But to my ain story. I dinna muckle like to think, 
 far less to speak on't. But ye're a bauld chield, Tarn ; 
 and gin ye hae it aince, ye'll keep it safe eneugh, I reckon. 
 Te ken where the G-ulf Stream rins weltering amang the 
 string o' islands and rocks by Gracias p Weel ; east by 
 nor' o' the Cape, there lies a wheen sma' rocks, called 
 Caxones, or Kakonies by the Ingians. There's five o' 'em 
 stand thegither, like the pops on a die ; and the sea rins 
 in whirlpools a' round the inner island ; and the jagged 
 coral gies it a bluidy look ; and the deadly blue sharks, and 
 the cruel cat-fishes, and the slimy tangle, are a' shimmering 
 in the welterin' waters. The centremost island isn't aboon 
 half a mile ower ; it's shaped amaist like a coffin, and 
 covered o'er wi' a ghastly gray sand, and a few stinted 
 trees twisted all shapes, in agony like, by the hurricanes. 
 One of them is a cedar-tree ; and just a dozen yards east of 
 it there lies sic a skeleton as man never saw afore." 
 
 Here the old buccaneer bent forward towards his friend, 
 who shuddered in mere sympathy, as the former dropped 
 his voice, and continued : 
 
 " That skeleton has neither leg-banes nor arm-banes, yet 
 it lies jist sic as life left it; an' its gruesome teeth are 
 clenched on the neck o' another skeleton lying crosswise by 
 its side. Eh ! that I should tell o' what has been haunting 
 me this mony a year !" 
 
 " But the treasure, Sandy," interrupted Tain, who was 
 by no means a slave to imagination ; " what the de'il hae 
 the uncanny banes to do wi' the treasure ?" 
 
 " The accursed gowd lies buried aboon thretty paces off, 
 
DABIEff. 81 
 
 bearing south by west fra' the skeleton. Him that hid it 
 could gang nae farther wi' that deadly grip upon him. 
 
 " In those days I sailed as boatswain's mate in the Black 
 Bess ; we was about half English and half French aboord ; 
 and if hell's a waur place than that same ship, the deii 
 maun hae a sair berth o't. Our surgeon was a Frenchman, 
 I believe ; if he was ever born naturally at all, for never a 
 man had less o' woman in him. He was an awfu' bein', 
 and the men were mair afear'd o' his curings than o' a' the 
 enemy's wounds. He wad examine a puir fellow's banes 
 and quivering flesh as if it was a pretty pictur', and no 
 leevin' nature ; and yet nae man dare question him. One 
 day we took a Spaniard, and as we thought, a' her men 
 had walked the plank. The medicine kist, wi' ither 
 spulzie, fell to the surgeon's share ; but when it was 
 opened, he found nought withinside save a miserable 
 mulatto that had hidden himself there. Well, he was 
 dootless sair vexed, but he only laughed a horrid laugh, 
 and said to the tremblin' creetur, * Ye needna fear, friend; 
 ye're fa' en into gude hands. I'll na kill ye, I'll only operate 
 on ye.' The puir soul thought o' naething but the saved 
 life, and fell at his knees, thanking him with tears o' 
 gratitude. That day the surgeon let him alane, for he had 
 wark eneugh wi' our ain wounded ; and sae it was the next 
 day. But at last, he wanted amusement, and sae he just 
 cut off the mulatto's right leg, to try some new experiment. 
 "Weel, he war a cleever chiel, wi' a' his devilry ; and he 
 soon made his patient sound agin. But the voyage was a 
 lang and weary ane ; so, to try some ither experiment, he 
 cut off the ither leg o' the creetur. I winna tell ye how the 
 mulatto looked, nor what he said ; but we aboord the ship 
 war nae chickens, I promise ye, and yet we were terrified 
 at what used to pass atween them twa ; ane wi' the tongue, 
 and the ither wi' the knife. I dinna rightly ken a' the 
 ways that the surgeon had o' takin' his diversion at in 
 tervals, for we a' got as far out o' the way as we could 
 whenever he went nigh the mulatto's berth. But, when 
 we were near Tortuga, on our return frae a long cruise, the 
 mulatto was naething but a mere trunk only ; arms and 
 legs a' gane, and yet wi' devilish art and cruel skill he was 
 still keepit alive. 
 
82 DAEIEN. 
 
 " At last it happened, as we were cruising off the Cax- 
 ones, that the captain had a tulzie wi' the surgeon; the 
 haill crew was lang sick o' him, and when the captain pro 
 posed that he sud be marooned on yon islan', every man in 
 the ship shouted for joy ; a score o' hands hasted to hoist 
 out the boat. Even the mulatto body tried to cheer, and 
 the surgeon heard it, and smiled on him ance mair. 
 
 " ' We won't part, at all events. By the laws of our 
 Brotherhood, I have a right to my own property, Captain 
 Morgan,' he said ; ' and I claim this my prisoner and 
 patient, with my chest.' 
 
 " Sandy, that surgeon was a bauld man ! He was quite 
 willin' to go to that lanely islan' laded wi' the curses o' the 
 crew, and only that puir ruined body to keep him company. 
 This deil incarnate then went below, and pretended to pack 
 up instruments and papers, and things in his kist, but I 
 watched him closely, and know that there was a sight o' 
 gowd and precious stanes there ; besides biscuits, and 
 brandy, and fish-hooks, with ammunition and pistols ; and 
 for all they gi'ed him but five minnits for the job, he packed 
 his kist as cannily as though he had ta'en a month to do it. 
 Weel, we landed him and his kist, and though we tried 
 hard agen it, we were forced to land his mulatto creetur' 
 too ; for, you see, if we broke one part o' the Brotherhood's 
 rules, there wad be nae hope for the rest. So we lifted the 
 kist up against the lonely cedar on the island, and set the 
 mulatto doon hard by. 
 
 " I dinna like, to this day, to think o' the last look he 
 lookit at us, as we gaed awa'. Wad ye think it ? I kissed 
 the puir pale laddie (as I couldna shake him by the hand), 
 and I was tempted to put my knife intil him for mercy, but 
 I daured na ; I feared that surgeon deil, sitting there on 
 his kist, looking round that lanely isle, independent o' us a', 
 and, as we thought, of doom itself. We hurried to get 
 away. I was the last man leaving the land. I dtnna ken 
 how it was, but, just as tho' the deivlish surgeon had the 
 ordering o't for all he could not see us where we sat the 
 whilst I was casting off the painter, the boat capsized in 
 the surf; the water was all whiskit into foam; the sharks 
 were thick as herrins ; my three shipmates went down, 
 and I never saw them mair. Oh ! it was terrible to be left, 
 
DARIEST. 83 
 
 coming on nicht, upon that island, with the fearfu' surgeon 
 and his prey. But I was fascinated to keep them in sight. 
 I crept along the sand, and under the shade of the man 
 groves, inch by inch, until I got a better view o' him. 
 There he was, fancying we were a' awa' ; for he was think 
 ing o' himsel' alane, and never lookit after the boat. He 
 had emptied the chest, and was sorting its contents : bis 
 cuits, powder, gold pieces, doctor's tools, jewels and pearls 
 by handfuls, pistols and books sic a confusion ! He had, 
 afore this, digged a hole, well nigh as deep as himsel', in 
 the saft sand, and into this he tossed all the gold and 
 precious stanes, leaving just room eneugh for a body, and a 
 wee bit sand to lay o'er it. He then sat him down to 
 enjoy himsel' wi' a biscuit and a drap o' brandy ; then, 
 lighting his pipe, he turned his uncanny een on the mu 
 latto. 'I've nearly done wi' ye,' that look seemed to say; 
 ' but ye maun serve me ae gude turn mair. I'll finish you 
 here, and you'll jist haunt this spot till I can come back for 
 what's in it, at my leisure.' The mulatto did not look 
 daunted as those terrible een keeked into his face; the 
 bitterness of death was passed wi' him, nae doot ; nor yet 
 when the surgeon lifted him (he was light eneugh !) upon 
 the sand near to the treasure. The creetur weel ken't for 
 why he was put there. 'Deevil!' he moaned out, faintly 
 and defiantly, ' you've but a short time longer to torment 
 me ; I hear the death-rattle coming now.' 
 
 " The surgeon bent down his ear close by the dying man. 
 I saw the fire o' vengeance flash into his glazing een ; his 
 dismembered body bent for a moment, like a fish springing 
 fra the ground ; I heard a husky noise. The surgeon strove 
 to loup an' get himsel' on his feet, but the mulatto was fast 
 to him, and lifted wi' him. He had seized him by the 
 thrapple wi' his teeth, and when the surgeon tried to pu' 
 him awa', he only tore his ain flesh. I couldna hae gaed 
 up to them if I would. I buried my face in my hands and 
 ran away. But a dreadful sound was in my ears, lang lang 
 after those who made it were still eneugh. It was then a' 
 but dark. I dinna ken how that terrible nicht was past. 
 I believe I was daft ; I kept pacing the shore, till the boat 
 frae the ship took me oft' the next day. When I came to 
 mysel', I told it to the captain, and wanted him to go back, 
 but he said we were unco far awa', and bade me speak o't 
 
 F2 
 
84 DAE1EK. 
 
 to naebody. I believe lie thoclit to seek after the treasure 
 himseF. I was landed, soon after, at Tortuga, sick o' brain 
 fever, or sommut, and the Black Bess foundered in a hur 
 ricane with all hands. Years passed by afore I could ma 
 nage to get back to Deadman's Isle, as we ca'ed it, wi' a 
 canoe and a couple of Indians. I found the maimed ske 
 leton lying alongside o' the perfect one, whose banes war 
 stretched in a' directions, as if still in agony. The guinless 
 teeth of the ane were still clinched whar' the throat o' the 
 ither was ance ; but the red ants had picked a' the lave o' 
 them quite clean. I left the Indians in the boat, and 
 worked sair at the treasure, but a sun-straik fell on me, and 
 I was carried awa' by the Indians, half dead ; and, before I 
 recovered, I made a vow never to approach that island ony 
 mair, but to leave to the deil the deil's spulzie." 
 
 " Hoot, toot, man," exclaimed Tarn, as he refilled his 
 pipe, " ye war wrang there ; if it war a righteous deed to 
 make spulzie o' the Egyptians, because they were enemies 
 o' Israel, muckle mair blessed wad it be to make spulzie o' 
 the deil, whilk is the enemy o' all mankind, and o' gospel- 
 ling Scots in particular." 
 
 Parian made no reply ; his spirits were exhausted, and 
 his chin fell upon his breast. Alice, with horror in her 
 looks, gazed on the old buccaneer, and with almost equal 
 fear on young Tinwald, who seemed fascinated by a story 
 which transported him to scenes that he had long dreamed 
 of. Tarn, too, felt influenced by the tale in his own way. 
 Nudging his drowsy comrade, he whispered, " Ken ye about, 
 man, what might be the amount o' the surgeon's treasure, or 
 an average on it ?" But Partan was asleep ; in a few mi 
 nutes he sank down at full length upon the settle; and, 
 from the restless state of his slumbers, the lookers-on might 
 well guess that his dreams were haunted by no good angels. 
 
 Tarn, seeing that nothing more could be got out of his 
 comrade at present, lighted his little lamp, and limped off 
 to bed; wishing the young laird a " Gude nicht," and 
 enjoining Alice to put the fire out, and see that the door 
 was fast. Still Tinwald lingered, though he had risen to 
 take his departure. Alice looked at him timidly, and then 
 said, as she turned away towards the fire 
 
 " I see I see, that your mind is still fixed on those 
 dreadful countries beyond sea. Yet they seem accursed of 
 
85 
 
 God and man ; and what can be their attraction for you, 
 who care not for gold, and abhor violence ? As well might 
 the red deer seek to harbour with the mountain wolves, as 
 you with such men as poor Partan seems to have risked his 
 soul and ruined his body by consorting with." 
 
 " It is pleasant to me to think that you can care what 
 becomes of me," replied Tinwald; "but I feel that sooner 
 or later my destiny lies among those people. Prom my 
 very boyhood I have longed to visit them, and, if it may be, 
 leave some token for good behind me when I am gone. I 
 know not whether it be what is called a missionary zeal 
 that impels me ; but sure I am that it is no selfish or 
 avaricious spirit that has thus prompted me to forego my 
 country, and all that is dear to me. Yet the Western 
 World is not the purgatory that you believe. Each of its 
 islands is a paradise of beauty, and of all other things that 
 Heaven indulgently bestows, and man seems destined to 
 pollute. It must be by some hideous mistake that Chris 
 tian men first plunged those once happy islands into misery ; 
 and, going on from crime to crime, have themselves arrived 
 at a pitch of wickedness which staggers credulity. But 
 fierce and cruel as those buccaneers may be, they are still 
 human. There must be some virtue left where there is 
 such heroism ; and what an innocent glory it would be to 
 recall even one of them from ruin, and by degrees to rege 
 nerate the beautiful and wretched countries they oppress !" 
 
 In this manner the enthusiast continued to dilate upon 
 his hopes and plans ; rather for the sake of continuing his 
 conversation with Alice on a safe subject, perhaps, than 
 from any hope of converting her to his views. 
 
 It was almost daylight when he reached his home. His 
 father had taken it into his head to be uneasy about his 
 absence, and had sat up for him. As soon as he presented 
 himself the old man's fear changed itself into wrath ; nor 
 was his indignation allayed when he discovered the cause of 
 his son's dissipation. "He might," he said, "have long 
 suspected it : but he never could bring himself to believe 
 that a son of his could stoop to the prospect of a low and 
 sordid alliance ; or, to what was so much worse, that he 
 would not name it." All this and much more did the old 
 laird utter and anathematise. 
 
 The next day, his son gravely and respectfully renewed 
 
86 DARIEN. 
 
 the subject ; confessed his desire to make Alice his wife, 
 and endeavoured to argue his claim to have some voice in 
 such a matter. 
 
 If the old laird was silent during this long address, it was 
 only because he was half choked by indignation. "When at 
 length he found words, they approached too nearly to a 
 ban upon his son, and his son's choice, to be unnecessarily 
 repeated. Suffice it to say, that Tinwald went forth from 
 his presence, discomposed for almost the first time in his 
 life; yet, with "auld warld " filial piety, resolved to 
 sacrifice his happiness to his father's will. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 To thy noble heart 
 The harder would appear the truer duiy. 
 
 SCHILLEB. 
 
 Ix man's labyrinthine relations with woman, there is no 
 path but one, which does not, sooner or later, lead to the 
 Minotaur of self-reproach. And of all these, there is none 
 more perplexing than the means of inoffensively withdraw 
 ing from affections of which you have no right to presume 
 yourself possessed. In this, as in other cases, the most 
 sensitive and honourable minds, are, unconsciously, the 
 most cruel : they will not act so ungenerously as to elicit 
 proofs that they are loved ; they will not run the risk of 
 placing themselves in a false position by assuming it. And 
 therefore they betake themselves to a more cruel course 
 than either ; they try to starve out the garrison, which not 
 having openly revolted from, they may not storm. They 
 withhold all the nutriments that the old love lived upon 
 kind words and kinder looks, and watchful attentions ; they 
 stop up all the many channels by which one heart pours 
 itself into another. Thus, it is presumed, it was with 
 Tinwald. He would not humble Alice by repudiating her 
 love, which only in the most secret recess of his own honest 
 heart he allowed himself to suspect. He tried by distance 
 and cold demeanour to turn it into indifference towards 
 him, or even into indignation. He arrived at this re- 
 
DAEIEN. 87 
 
 solution with no slight effort ; but having once convinced 
 himself on which side his duty lay, he allowed no feeling to 
 parley on the other. He felt in the depths of his soul the 
 value of this love that first, purest, and truest, that either 
 might ever know ; but he would not, for all that love's sake, 
 sacrifice to it what be considered to be the welfare of its 
 object ; his only remedy was estrangement. 
 
 He therefore withdrew himself from the village and its 
 little interests. He devoted all his time and energies to 
 improving a tract of land called the " Lang Farm," by 
 newly-invented modes of draining and embankment ; and 
 he once more began to mingle in the private meetings 
 which frequently took place in Dumfries, to concert 
 measures for resisting the intolerable persecutions that then 
 prevailed. On one of these visits to the county town, he 
 encountered Sir Standon Seignory, no longer wearing the 
 king's uniform. 
 
 " Yes," said the ci-devant officer, in answer to his look of 
 inquiry, "the cockade is dismounted. Claverhouse has 
 given me my conge as I expected ; and I only await here 
 the issue of a court-martial which I have demanded, before 
 I retire into private life. Now let me warn you once 
 more that you are observed and tracked by the bloodhound 
 spies of Government ; if you are once arrested, Barbadoes 
 or the thumbikins, to say nothing worse, is your inevitable 
 fate." 
 
 Tinwald thanked his friend, but, in the spirit of the 
 time, felt only nerved to bolder measures by the warning. 
 Sir Standon then went his way, and many years elapsed 
 before the young laird again beheld him. 
 
 That night Tinwald returned through one of the autum 
 nal tempests that sometimes visit the vale of the Solway 
 with peculiar fury. His course was considerably impeded 
 by the violence of the wind, and the night had far advanced 
 when he reached his father's house. Having stabled his 
 good steed, he looked out upon the storm before retiring to 
 rest, and became conscious of an unusual stir in the village. 
 Eearing lest it might prove to be another inroad of Drum- 
 mond's troopers, he hastened towards Sandilee. 
 
 Almost instinctively, he made his way first to the Peel- 
 house, where he heard the well-known voice of a fisherman, 
 named Madden Bay, calling to Tarn and Partan to " come 
 
88 DAEIEtf. 
 
 out and hearken ; for there was gruesome sounds from the 
 sea, and minute guns that were stilly now." Tarn was 
 neither disposed nor quite able to move from his warm bed 
 at such a summons ; but Partan, who now habitually slept 
 in his chimney-corner, staggered out into the storm, and 
 down to the shore through showers of salt spray. Tinwald 
 and Madden accompanied him, and beheld a sight that was 
 terrible even to their practised eyes. The sea, thrown 
 mountains high, and tortured into strange awful shapes by 
 the force of the whirling wind, was lighted up at intervals 
 by a wan moon, as the black rushing clouds for a moment 
 revealed her pallid face within its shroud. Most of the 
 villagers were assembled on the green ; some driven from 
 their fragile homes by fear of the falling rafters ; and others, 
 attracted by sympathy for the ship perishing in their wild 
 and fatal waters. About a mile from shore, there was a 
 sandbank, heading a long range of quicksands, to this day 
 well known by mariners. On this bank some asserted that 
 a ship had struck ; others, that she had passed it by, and 
 that they had heard her guns far to leeward. The mountain 
 ous seas, blinding spray, and uncertain light rendered it 
 almost impossible to distinguish any object. All that could 
 be seen, even close at hand, was but by glimpses ; all that 
 was heard were but ejaculations. Partan, after a few 
 minutes, seemed thoroughly recalled from the effect of his 
 potations. One excitement counteracted the other, and he 
 was now roused into a seaman's interest in the scene before 
 him. He lay down upon the shore and kept his eyes 
 steadily fixed in the direction of the sandbank. The first 
 gleam of light that passed over the sea revealed to him that 
 the black hull of a large ship was stationary in the midst of 
 the tossed billows. 
 
 " To the boat ! there's a brave ship struck !" he cried, as 
 he started to his feet with wonderful alacrity, and limped 
 away towards the little harbour. But none followed him. 
 The fisherman continued to gaze in awed silence on the 
 stormy sea, which every moment appeared to grow more 
 furious, and to shake the very shore with its mighty 
 waves. 
 
 " Is there nae Christian man amang ye that will run a 
 risk to save a sailor's life ?" exclaimed Partan, reproach 
 fully. 
 
DAEIEN. 89 
 
 " Here's I for one !" shouted Madden Bay, the fisherman 
 who had first summoned him, and whose children were 
 crawling about, trying to steady their tottering little feet in 
 the storm. 
 
 " Hoot awa, man !" screamed his wife ; " the chiel's daft, 
 an' sae are ye, to face the wrath o' Heaven in sic a nicht ! " 
 and a pair of stout arms were folded round the volunteer's 
 neck, while two or three smaller pairs encircled his legs. 
 
 " Is there nae ne'er-do-weel amang ye ? " shouted Partan 
 again, "that will take chance wi' me to save yon puir 
 perishing folk ; and maybe women and bairns amang 'em, 
 in the waves?" 
 
 Swilltap, the publican's son, stepped forward at this 
 appeal, but was instantly knocked down by his indignant 
 sire. Tinwald then raised his voice and conjured all for the 
 love they bore him, for the honour of old Scotland, for the 
 sake of Heaven, not to leave strangers to perish on their 
 shore without one brave effort to save them. " We want 
 but one," he continued, "but one who can hold a helm or 
 pull an oar." 
 
 " It's nae use ; it's nae use," sternly exclaimed the 
 oldest fisherman ; " nae boatie in Scotland could live in sic 
 a sea. It's God's wull sent the creatures into yon extre 
 mity ; Grod's wull be done ! " 
 
 " His will be our speed then ! " exclaimed Alice, who had 
 only waited to muffle her delicate form in the plaidie, and 
 had joined the group. " ' His will be done !' as master 
 Bay says, let us do it. Partan, ' the battle is not always to 
 the strong ; ' you ken weel that I can hold a tiller, and if 
 you and the young laird row, we may yet be in time to 
 save ! " 
 
 The villagers had remained impassive to the adjuration 
 of mercy and of Heaven, but one electric impulse seemed to 
 stimulate them all as Alice spoke. The old fatalist was 
 the first to fling off his doublet, and thurst it in his wife's 
 face ; all down to young Swilltap followed his example and 
 moved towards the boat. 
 
 " Not sae, not sae, bonnie leddie ! " was the cry ; "there 
 be hands, though not hearts here, better fitted for sic 
 work." They seized upon the largest of the fishing-boats, 
 and were about to launch her from the blocks when 
 Partan interfered: 
 
90 DARIEN. 
 
 " Not her," he shouted ; " as master Bay says, she 
 wadna live ; but the Bonito boatie will swim as long as twa 
 planks haud thegither. Come ! wi' a will, lads ; heave all ! " 
 and the gallant little craft was hurried from her rest into the 
 water, that leaped and foamed even in this sheltered cove. 
 Tinwald jumped on board, and others would have crowded 
 after him, but Partan stopped them, and chose only three 
 of the youngest and stoutest. 
 
 After a little preparation, they were off, followed by a 
 cheer that stuck in the throats of friends, parents, and 
 lovers who tried to utter it. In a few minutes, a bit of a 
 spritsail was run up, and the Bonito, after some impatient 
 curvets in the calmer water, bounded like a gallant courser 
 into the raging sea. As she rose over the first few waves, 
 her tiny sail was visible above the foam, but then became 
 lost in the dark confusion of the elements. 
 
 The minister of Sandilee had by this time reached the 
 scene of action, and readily availed himself of the occasion 
 to summon his little flock to prayer. Only snatches of his 
 words were heard through the storm, but the full hearts 
 around him could well supply the rest. 
 
 He was yet speaking when the first streak of dawn ap 
 peared. The face of the preacher became distinct; then 
 the shore, and at length the tossed sea, opened to the view. 
 Every eye was turned towards the sandbank, and the hull 
 espied by Partan's practised eyes at night was now visible 
 to all. The Bonito was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 But soon the shouts of her brave crew were heard. She 
 had performed her daring task, and returned to the little 
 cove just before daybreak. The result of her adventure had 
 been a single man rescued from the wreck ; and as he was 
 found with handcuffs on his wrist, the old superstition 
 against the rescue of drowning men revived in full force. 
 None of the fishermen, hospitable as they naturally were, 
 showed themselves desirous of receiving so suspicious a 
 guest ; so with one accord they bore off the exhausted and 
 half-drowned man to Tarn's house. There Alice procured 
 for him all the assistance in her power ; for her father was 
 snug in bed, and was determined not to be disturbed. 
 Tinwald attempted to force some spoonfuls of brandy down 
 the stranger's throat ; when suddenly coming to himself, he 
 rose and cast a keen, quick, fearless glance around him. 
 
DAEIEN. 91 
 
 Then seizing the bottle of brandy, he poured out a beaker- 
 full, and tossed it off, to Partan's great admiration, if not 
 envy. The draught seemed to restore him almost instantly. 
 He first made a graceful acknowledgment to Alice, and 
 then thanked his deliverers in a few well-chosen, manly 
 sentences, though uttered with a slightly foreign accent. 
 He glanced as he was speaking, down upon his wrist, where 
 the mark of the irons was still visible, and added, as if in 
 explanation : 
 
 " You have saved not only my life, but my liberty. The 
 ship that I commanded was wrecked near the Azores 
 about a month ago. I escaped, with some of my crew, in 
 a small boat, and after some days we were taken up by one 
 of our enemies. We were ill-used ; one night we tried to 
 retake her. We failed : my comrades were hanged, and I 
 was only reserved to grace the yard-arm of the Spaniard, 
 when she entered Cadiz. A gale of wind came on ; we lost 
 our rudder ; scudded before the wind for a week. It grew 
 calm ; we got an observation ; found ourselves at the back 
 of Ireland ; steered with a spar, to give it a wide berth, 
 hoping to fetch the Texel, and refit. Another gale ; this 
 time from the nor'ard. Ean before it : luffed up for shelter 
 into this river, or whatever you call it ; found it worse than 
 the open sea. "We struck ; all hands took to the boats ; I 
 only left; boats swamped; crew lost; I, thanks to your 
 gallantry and kindness, only saved." 
 
 This explanation was given with such apparent frankness 
 as to impress all present with its truth. Partan alone 
 seemed to have some misgivings, but said nothing. "Weari 
 ness soon put an end to further conversation. Alice 
 retired to her room ; Partan to his berth in the Bonito ; the 
 fishermen to their several homes ; and the stranger accom 
 panied Tinwald to the Manor-house as his guest. 
 
DAEIE2S-. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Nothing he does or seems, 
 But smacks of something greater than himself. 
 
 SHAKSPERE. 
 
 scarcely affords a wider range for development in his 
 intellectual, than in his physical nature. There is hardly a 
 wider moral difference between the mature philosopher and 
 the schoolboy, than exists physically between the town-bred, 
 lounging dandy, and the seaman, inured to effort, hardship, 
 and danger from his childhood : the former suffers acutely 
 from a scratch or bruise, the latter seems almost insensible 
 to any external injury short of that which maims him : he 
 has become, as it were, annealed in the fire of adversity, and 
 is indifferent to sufferings that would be agonizing to 
 untried nerves. In the history of the buccaneers, we find 
 curious proofs of the invulnerability to which the human 
 body may be brought. The great majority of these men no 
 doubt perished in the ordeal of their probation, but those 
 who survived it almost realized the fable of Achilles. Im 
 passive to climate, disease, and hardship, indifferent to 
 wounds, capable of enduring incredible abstinence from 
 food, they faced the wild bull in the forest, the shark in the 
 seas, and made sport even with the deadly alligator. As 
 for their exploits among their fellow-men, they seem to 
 transcend all fiction. Huge galleons captured, and their 
 crews destroyed by the demoniac strength and resolution of 
 half a score of them in an open boat ; wealthy, well-fortified 
 cities sacked by a ship's crew ; whole provinces laid waste 
 and plundered by a mere handful of these desperadoes. 
 Such facts abound in the naval histories of the time, and 
 would be incredible if they were not borne witness to, as 
 well by their enemies as their friends. 
 
 There is a striking anecdote of them which is told by 
 Oexmelin in his peculiar manner, and which Partan de 
 scribed with the veracity of an eye-witness. In illustration 
 of the foregoing remarks, it may as well be mentioned here, 
 as it was the rescued stranger who succeeded in eliciting it 
 from the old sailor. Partan held aloof from this man as 
 much as possible, and took no pains to conceal his dislike ; 
 but this was so much a habit of his, that it was scarcely 
 
DAEIEtf. 93 
 
 observed. The stranger seemed resolved to ingratiate him 
 self, however; and though Partan was unapproachable either 
 when fairly drunk or quite sober, there was an interval be 
 tween these states, during which he was so much disposed 
 to communicativeness, that he was often induced to con 
 verse with those most whom he disliked. The stranger, 
 whether from real interest in such things, or because they 
 made Partan amusing to him, delighted in " drawing out" 
 his reminiscences of the West Indies and the Spanish 
 Main. 
 
 One day the stranger inquired if it was true " that the 
 Caribs were cannibals, and whether they really did use to 
 cook the brain in the skull, and the rest of the victim in 
 joints from day to day ; throwing what your butchers call 
 4 trimmings' to the children." 
 
 " Hech, sirs, it's ower true," rejoined Partan ; " and it's 
 often I heard that some o' their Christian captives was glad 
 to git a bit o' the same trimmings, screeds o' flesh and 
 banes that's wastrie frae the flesh in makin' the meal tidy. 
 I hae heard that when Edward, the Bruce' s brither, was 
 invadin' Ireland, his foragers were sae sair famished, that 
 they, too, cookit the flesh o' the slain Irish kerns in 
 skulls." 
 
 " I have no doubt," rejoined the stranger, " that those 
 Scotch savages were barbarous enough for that or aught 
 else ; but thou must know, O cunning antiquarian ! that 
 skull was a word then used for a steel cap, or helmet, and 
 often was applied to such auxiliary purposes, without dis 
 paragement of its nobler use. Your ' skillet' and * scullion' 
 are derived from that." 
 
 " Like eneugh ; but I heard the cannibals ate the great 
 buccaneer, L'Olonois, alive: tyin' him till a tree, and 
 cutting off his flesh and cookin' it before his eyes ; an' if 
 e'er man deserved such entertainment it was that incarnate 
 deil. But I mind a Portingale flibuster that was partly 
 devoured, and saved after a' ; but then it was only by a 
 crocodile, or alligator, as some ca's them ; sae he was saved 
 the idea of bein' consumed by cannibals." 
 
 "What's that cock and bull story?" inquired the 
 stranger; "let's have it, by all means." 
 
 " Hear till him," replied Partan, " wi' his cock and bull ! 
 It war na sic thing, sir; but a crocodile and an honest 
 
94 DAEIEN. 
 
 Christian that was in it. It was lang ago, in the year 
 seventy-nine, when Ironhand was making a raid into His- 
 paniola ; we had some unco dour kintra to cross, and mony 
 dark, suspicious braes, wi' uncanny-looking streams below. 
 Weel, for the maist pairt we marchit well thegither, for we 
 ken't that all creation, man and beast, war as well keepit 
 at a distance ; but now and then a daredevil would rin out 
 of line to pu' a banany, or speer after the Indian lassies, or 
 some siccan refreshment ; and one Bacalho, a Portingale, 
 strayed away a bit, and thoght to make a short cut to join 
 on to us. When we campit for the nicht he was missing, 
 however, and some of us went to look for him. ; and after a 
 long time searching about, we heard him swearing, as usual 
 wi' him, but only in a faintish voice. At last we fand him, 
 by the aid of moonlicht, on the bank of a deep stream. He 
 had dragged himsel' by his arms (for his legs were spoilt) 
 to the foot of a tree, and pullin' a dice-box out o' his 
 pocket, he was playin' one hand again' the other to amuse 
 himsel'. A great crocodile was lying near, quite dead ; and 
 eh, sirs ! but the Portingale was vera proud of having killed 
 him. Afore he said aught of himsel', he just began to 
 glorify in the death of the beastie. It ran after him, he 
 said, and caught him by the legs, and tried to carry him to 
 the water, munching his legs as he went along for refresh 
 ment ; and the Portingale stabbed out baith the beast's 
 e'en; but it wadna let go, and sae it dragged himsel' almost 
 to the water edge ; when the Portingale, getting really 
 vexed, driv' the point of his dirk, by a great effort, into the 
 creetur's brain, and so he killed him. ' But,' he added, ' I 
 doot me I have paid sair for the fun.' So when we carried 
 him to the camp, the surgeon found the legs chawed away, 
 sae that he could na tell the bit banes from the flesh, nor 
 the marrow frae the fat. Puir fellow ! naething could be 
 done for him but to make his end pleasing, and it took twa 
 quarts of rum to effect that, for he was aye hard to liquor ; 
 but fortunately he had a strang thirst upon him by reason 
 of the fever of his wound." 
 
 Partan had many such stories, which seemed to prove 
 that the buccaneers were very unlike the rest of the 
 human race in power of passive endurance, as well as in 
 more active bravery. 
 
 The stranger who had been rescued from the Solway 
 
DAEIEN. 95 
 
 would have been qualified to belong to such a band, if one 
 might judge from the appearance of hardihood exhibited in 
 his countenance, and of hardness (as that term is used in 
 hunting phraseology) in his frame. There was mingled 
 with all this, an air of grace and courtliness that contrasted 
 curiously with the sterner characteristics of the man. He 
 evidently was not wanting in that refinement which is only 
 acquired by intercourse with polished society. His usually 
 reckless confident manner he could change in a moment 
 into one of winning softness ; and his scornful and sarcastic 
 tone into those of sentiment or tender passion. He had 
 evidently seen much of the best and worst of life, and was 
 qualified to play his part in either. 
 
 Such was the character of a man, very celebrated in his 
 day : his portrait represents him with a profusion of light 
 brown hair and moustaches, dark piercing eyes, and a figure 
 of the most exact proportions consistent with great strength. 
 
 Tinwald, like most generous, unselfish people, was prone 
 to what is now called hero-worship. He was easily blinded, 
 by what seemed noble and magnanimous, to the specious 
 vices that often lie hidden under those magnificent masks. 
 The gallant bearing of this stranger, his courtesy to the old 
 laird, his active and energetic mind, and above all, his 
 familiarity with foreign lands, gave him at once a deep 
 interest in the young student's eyes. 
 
 " L'esprit leger impose toujours sur 1'esprit meditatif," 
 says a cunning observer of human nature ; and the truth of 
 the aphorism was manifested in the case of these two men. 
 The stranger soon perceived his advantage and endeavoured 
 to turn it to good account. His practised observation 
 assured him that Tinwald, though young and inexperienced, 
 possessed a mind of no common order ; and, though with 
 far different aspirations, it was as active and ambitious as 
 his own. For some days he appeared to be quite con 
 tented with his new friend's companionship, while at inter 
 vals he would give himself up with characteristic ardour to 
 field sports. He was an unerring shot, and soon was able 
 to kill a salmon with any angler in the stewartry. His ex 
 cursions became longer each day ; and at the end of a fort 
 night, Tinwald was not quite well pleased to hear from 
 Partan that he had become a frequent visitor at the Peel- 
 house. 
 
96 DAE1EN. 
 
 " In truth," said the sailor, " I wad we had left yon chiel 
 upon the wreck. He's na gude company for auld Tarn, and 
 waur for the young leddie. But the interlouper has got 
 hold on Tarn's weak point, and says he'll gang ow r er sea and 
 fetch for him the buried treasure, and what not." 
 
 " And who or what do you suppose this singular man to 
 be ? " Tinwald inquired anxiously. 
 
 " I suppose just nothing," replied Partan ; " I'm weel 
 sure it '11 be ane o' the Brethren o' the Coast, as they ca' 
 themselves ; he kens the Spanish Main and the Indian 
 islan's as weel as mysel' amaist ; and there's other tokens 
 that I'm no free to spak' on." 
 
 " Then the sooner he goes after this treasure the better," 
 observed Paterson. " What can he find to delay him in this 
 stricken country ? It must seem dull enough to a man who 
 has seen so much of the world and lived so stirring a life 
 as he has done." 
 
 " Aiblins he thought of some ither treasure, " groaned 
 Partan. " It's no aften in gay places that gay gowd lays 
 hid." 
 
 It occurred now to Tinwald that somehow or other it was 
 his duty to see how his guest was going on at the village. 
 He had been instrumental in any danger that might accrue 
 from the presence of the stranger there, and misgivings as 
 to his true character began to suggest themselves. In short 
 he loved Alice as well or better than ever he did; and 
 though he had resolved to sacrifice that love, and even took 
 a certain stern pleasure in trampling down all insurgent 
 happy thoughts of her, he still persuaded himself it was his 
 duty to watch over her ! 
 
 ft was quite time that her father should have some assist 
 ance in that office. The stranger had been heartily wel 
 comed to Tarn's chimney-corner ; for, fond of money as he 
 was, the old man had never been able to rid himself of his 
 native Scottish disposition to hospitality. The stranger 
 availed himself of this with frankness and heartiness, and 
 appeared to feel as perfectly at home in Tarn's house as 
 he made himself everywhere else. An air of superiority, 
 however, manifested itself in everything he did ; and 
 if Tarn, notwithstanding all his own shrewdness, stood 
 in awe of the unassuming and courteous Tinwald, still 
 more was he impressed by the off-hand commanding 
 
DAEIEN. 97 
 
 manner of his new guest. This was laid aside whenever he 
 addressed Alice ; then his observations were more pointed, 
 his voice subdued ; and all his bearing towards her evi 
 denced an appreciation of her sex in general and of her own 
 peculiar excellence. 
 
 Shortly after their first acquaintance, Tarn, anxious to 
 fathom his guest by the soundings he was best acquainted 
 with, challenged him to a potent bowl of Glasgow punch. 
 The stranger willingly accepted the invitation, and Tarn soon 
 found himself beaten at his own weapon. Unconsciously won 
 upon by the stranger's conversational powers, he forgot his 
 usual caution ; he first grew garrulous, then very drunk, 
 and his guest obtained from him all the information he de 
 sired. Partan had still sooner succumbed to his evil genius, 
 and before an hour, the stranger left both the old seamen 
 in a state of unconsciousness ; gazing at one another across 
 the table with an air of stupid reproach, as their conqueror 
 walked off without the slightest apparent result of the deep 
 potations he had quaffed. He then sat down by Alice, who 
 was spinning in the porch, and soon engrossed her attention 
 by stirring narratives of many a wild adventure, related as 
 if they had been matters of every-day life, which indeed they 
 were to him. 
 
 After that evening, Tarn tried to resume his caution and 
 reserve, but it was too late ; his guest spoke with unre 
 served freedom of Tarn's affairs, and even of the Deadman's 
 Isle. He offered to take the Bonito and to pick up the 
 buried treasure, in the most frank and easy manner ima 
 ginable ; declaring there was no more difficulty in the ex 
 pedition, than in a cruise across the Solway, and that it 
 would afford but a slight return for his preservation and 
 kind reception. 
 
 The stranger thenceforth had become a favoured guest at 
 the Peel-house ; and it soon appeared that in his confident 
 attempt at conquest, he had himself been conquered, not 
 withstanding all his experience and knowledge of the 
 Avorld, by the simple village girl. He devoted himself to 
 her whenever he obtained an opportunity. He addressed 
 her in his most earnest and impressive voice ; he sought to 
 invest his very ambiguous profession with a chivalrous and 
 romantic interest in her eyes ; and he sang to her wild but 
 
98 DABIEtf. 
 
 melodious sea-songs, that had already won many a heart 
 for him in far other scenes. 
 
 Alice, however, was amused and interested, but nothing 
 more. The brilliant stranger won her attention and inno 
 cent admiration ; but her inner thoughts were still with the 
 gentle and melancholy student ; all the more, perhaps, be 
 cause he had now withdrawn himself almost wholly from 
 her society. Formerly he had been used to visit the old 
 castle of Caerlaverock every evening at sunset, but he was 
 now no longer seen there. And Alice, pained and surprised, 
 but helpless, grew gradually pale and pensive ; whilst the 
 stranger claimed in his heart her pallor as the white flag of 
 surrender to his suit. 
 
 .Thus matters stood, when Partan communicated his sus 
 picions to Tinwald in the manner we have described. The 
 old sailor considered the matter of so much importance, 
 that he made it the occasion of his first visit to the Manor- 
 house. As he was returning to the village, rather the 
 worse for whisky, he met the subject of his suspicion, who 
 at once turned with him and joined his walk. 
 
 "Master Partan," began the stranger, "you and I have 
 met before, in a very different place. Is it not so ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," was the laconic reply. 
 
 " And you know me ? " resumed the stranger. " Come, 
 speak up, man, and don't be afraid." 
 
 Partan looked at his questioner with a glance, for a mo 
 ment as haughty as his own. " Afeerd ! and why for ? 
 I would I had sae little to do wi' my fear, as to throw it 
 awa' upon sic as you or any mortal man. I do ken ye, 
 CAPTAIS" LAWBENCE ; and I ken ye for as bauld and bluidy- 
 handed a chiel as ever sailed 'neath the Eed Flag." 
 
 The stranger answered with a light-hearted laugh ; and 
 giving Partan a familiar slap upon the shoulder, turned 
 along the cliffs which there overhang the Frith. The old 
 sailor limped rather unsteadily along the narrow and dan 
 gerous path, forgetful of all " things but that which now 
 filled his mind. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " he resumed ; " I mind ye ower weel. I mind 
 ye when first ye joined us, a pretty lad, wi' a saft singing 
 voice ; and years after, when ye joined us at Tortuga, aa 
 captain of the Tiger ; and at the plunder o' Yera Cruz, 
 
DAEIEN. 99 
 
 whare ye carried aff tliat puir bonny Spanish lassie, and 
 hid her awa' in the woods there. An' I mind muckle mair, 
 too, that I wad hae tell't lang syne to ithers but for the 
 aith of the Brotherhood, whilk I'm fule eneuch to be bound 
 by but no too far ; and I tell ye the now, Captain Law 
 rence, that if ye darken this pair village langer than ye 
 need to provision and gang away in the Bonito, I'll pitch 
 the aith back to the deil wha deveesed it." 
 
 " Nay, nay ! old friend," rejoined the Captain, "you had 
 better go and deliver back your oath in person !" And so 
 saying, he flung the old seaman from the cliff into the sea. 
 As he fell through the air he uttered no cry ; but his look 
 of despair struck even Lawrence, who crossed himself whilst 
 he followed the body with his eyes. 
 
 " It's strange," he muttered to himself, as he strode 
 away, " how living ashore corrupts men. I remember that 
 old caitiff as bold a flibustier as ever handled a cutlass. He 
 can't have been above half-a-dozen years here, and yet he 
 has learned to preach like a Puritan, and die with a look 
 that sickens me. 'Drunken dog! he tumbled over the 
 cliff in his liquor,' the honest bumpkins here will say. JSTo 
 one saw us meet, and I shall resume my ckasse." 
 
 The stranger turned inland over the hills, and pursued 
 his sport. Partan had truly recognised him as Lawrence, 
 the most youthful, daring, and successful of the buccaneering 
 captains of his day. Born in Paris, of good family, he was 
 endowed with great talents, and had acquired all the ac 
 complishments of the time ; he had fallen into bad society, 
 committed murder, been condemned to die ; reprieved on 
 account of his high birth, he was transported, and sold as an 
 engage* He had soon acquired sufficient consideration to 
 
 * The engages were a sort of apprentices. They were generally 
 criminals whose punishment had been commuted to transportation 
 to the French colonies in the West Indies. If they happened to be 
 sold to the planters, their fate was generally cruel enough ; and the 
 mortality, caused by their forced labour under a tropical sun, was very 
 great. But those sold to the buccaneers led a life of incredible hard 
 ship and suffering. Slaves of the most reckless irresponsible tyrants, 
 sharers in all their desperate encounters, and only permitted to feed 
 on the offal left after their banquets, their lot was far worse than that of 
 the dogs whose condition and estimation they shared. Nevertheless, 
 having served their term of apprenticeship (generally three years), 
 their masters were bound to furnish them with a dress, a knife, a 
 
 Or 2 
 
100 DARIEtf. 
 
 become a buccaneer, and his career thenceforth was one of 
 uninterrupted success. His daring was conspicuous even 
 among the desperadoes of the coast, and an approach to 
 chivalrous feeling and conduct which he had occasionally 
 displayed, gave romance to his character. He loved music 
 and poetry, and had always a band of trumpets and other 
 instruments on board his ship. After a brilliant career, he 
 had been decoyed to Holland by his rival freebooter, the 
 celebrated Van Home, who made his wife write s to invite 
 him thither. He had been forced to fight the injured 
 husband, had killed him, and was being transported to 
 slavery in one of the Dutch settlements, when he was 
 wrecked in the Solway. He is now pursuing some wild 
 fowl on the JN~ith, while his victim is lying on the Solway 
 shore ; and so we leave them. 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 * * * How hard it seem'd to me 
 When eyes, love-languid, through half tears, would dwell 
 One earnest, earnest moment upon mine ; 
 Then not to dare to see ! When thy low voice 
 Faltering, would break its syllables to keep 
 My own full-toned hold passion in a leash 
 And not leap forth and fall upon thy neck ! 
 
 ALFKED TENNYSON. 
 
 IT was fortunate, perhaps, for the supremacy that Tin- 
 wald still possessed in the affections of Alice, that he had 
 entirely withdrawn himself from her society. He did not, 
 therefore, enter into personal rivalry with the accomplished 
 stranger ; and the being of her own imagination was natu 
 rally superior to any actual individual, in the esteem of the 
 young village beauty. If she ever appeared to lend a willing 
 ear to the stranger, or too willingly permitted his compa 
 nionship, it was in the dangerous hope of re-awakening in 
 
 musket, and ammunition. They generally then became buccaneers 
 on their own account, and as they must have had extraordinary 
 stamina to survive their probation, they often became renowned 
 ruffians. 
 
101 
 
 the young laird the interest with which he had, until lately, 
 regarded all that related to her. Still he held aloof from 
 her. She was never absent from the old castle at sunset, 
 but he was never there ; and it was strange how lonelv the 
 absence of one person could make it feel ! Then she found 
 out that he was often there at other times, and she thought 
 it was not, perhaps, altogether for the ruin's sake that he 
 still haunted the old try sting-place. She thought if she 
 could only once see him, that all would be right again. She 
 could not account for his estrangement ; but with her faith 
 in the nobleness of his nature, she would not attribute it 
 to any reason that she ought to resent. Therefore she, too, 
 began to frequent the old castle at unusual hours. In the 
 innocence and singleness of her own heart, she saw no 
 wrong in seeking the presence of one who possessed it 
 wholly. Wayward and wilful she was, and perhaps not 
 without a spice of native coquetry ; but in her love she was 
 simple and truthful as a child. 
 
 Pa/tan had left Tinwald in an uncomfortable mood. He 
 then felt more keenly than ever the sacrifice he had made 
 in resigning Alice. It was one thing to give her up ro 
 mantically ; and to fancy, in spite of himself, that she was 
 sharing his regrets ; but it was quite another matter to give 
 her up practically, and to see her become perhaps the bride 
 of an unworthy rival. Yet he had no right to interfere 
 with, or even to advise her. He resolved to see her once 
 more, and to judge for himself before he decided on what 
 course to take. While thus musing, he found himself at 
 the old castle, which lay between his home and the Peel- 
 house. There he sat down in a window-niche, and tried to 
 think dispassionately; but the associations of the place 
 were too much for him, and instead of meditating on the 
 affairs of Alice, he thought of herself alone. How strange 
 it is that a real presence can rudely displace an imaginative 
 one. An ideal Alice was at one moment cherished by 
 Tinwald, and seated by his side. Alice herself, tangible, 
 beautiful, and warm-hearted, stood before him, and in 
 stantly the lover was displaced by the philosopher. The 
 grass-grown courts and ivy-muffled walls of the old castle 
 yielded no echo to her light footsteps as she glided in, 
 doubtfully and diffidently, now that she knew the young 
 laird was there. The setting sunlight threw his shadow on 
 
102 DAEIEN. 
 
 the sward, though he himself remained unseen. She could 
 distinguish his shadowy arm supporting his shadowy head, 
 and both were as motionless as the broken arch above him. 
 She too stood still, hesitating, and doubtful how to ap 
 proach him. At length she tried to sing a note or two of 
 one of her old songs, as if she thought herself alone ; but 
 her voice failed her. Her heart beat painfully ; she clasped 
 her hands upon her breast to hush it, and the rustling of 
 her plaidie, in the stillness of all around, roused Tinwald's 
 attention. He looked up, and saw struggling in her lovely 
 countenance love, disappointment, fear. Her pale silent 
 lips, and tearful downcast eyes, told more than voice could 
 have done, had it been in her power to speak : her whole 
 cause, such as it was, was pleaded in a moment. The 
 young philosopher, from his childhood, had practised the 
 sternest self-control, and even now his heart did not betray 
 its life-long discipline. He stifled its strong passion, all the 
 stronger because so repressed ; and the hand that was 
 placed on that of Alice had no tremor in it. A meaner 
 mind would have indulged in the luxury of a lover's sorrow, 
 would have professed its passion, its sacrifice, its despair. 
 He could not doubt that her love was his, but he seemed as 
 if he knew it not. 
 
 " Alice," he said, " you and I have long been friends, 
 very kind friends together ; but you are no longer the 
 pretty child that might wander without observation 
 wherever and with whomsoever she chose. You are now 
 a comely maiden ; the eyes of all our people look up to you 
 and admire you: their tongues, too, may be busy about 
 you if you be not circumspect, and more too ; as becomes 
 a young and lovely woman who, having no mother, must 
 be her own guardian. All this means, Alice, that we ought 
 not to meet alone, pleasant as it is to me ; and kindly as it 
 is on your part to be content to share your society with 
 one who only waits for an opportunity to leave his own 
 country, perhaps for ever." 
 
 By the time that the young stoic had ceased to speak, 
 Alice had recovered herself. Pride came to her assistance ; 
 the thought of the wide difference in degree between her 
 and the laird for the first time flashed across her mind, and 
 she answered proudly, 
 
 " Your words sound like reproof, but wherefore, I dinna. 
 
DABIEK. 103 
 
 ken. I am here to-day ; I was here yesterday. This auld 
 ruin has always been as free to me, or any other village 
 lassie, as to any laird or scholar in the land ; but if ye 
 think I am trespassing, not on this spot, but on yourself, 
 dinna fash yourself, for mony will be the day before I come 
 again into your cauld shadow. As to your ganging awa', 
 if you suppose that every lassie that comes to Caerlaverock 
 Castle is rinning after you, you are quite right to escape 
 from them ower sea." 
 
 Having thus expressed herself, as she thought, very 
 heroically, Alice, with a proud toss of her comely head, fled 
 from the presence she had so earnestly sought. But 
 quickly as she went, Tinwald could hear the sobs in which 
 her feelings soon found relief : yet he remained motionless. 
 
 While this scene was enacting, Lawrence was sitting in 
 Tarn's chimney-corner. He thought he might as well 
 hasten his departure, for fear of any possible discovery of 
 Partan's violent death. He now formally proposed to Tarn 
 to sail in search of the buried treasure, as soon as the 
 Bonito could be made ready for sea. She had only to run 
 down to Bristol in the first instance, and there she could 
 easily procure a crew and whatever her longer voyage might 
 require. To this proposal Tarn assented with a readiness 
 that surprised the buccaneer. But in fact he was impatient 
 to see his guest under weigh : there was no use in refusing 
 him, for Lawrence already knew where the treasure lay, 
 and he was not a man to be baulked of his purpose. And 
 then, as his infirmities increased, Tarn's caution gave way to 
 his covetousness. Besides all this, the levity of the stranger, 
 and the unwonted festivities of which he was the occasion 
 at the Peel-house, began to disparage Tarn's reputation in 
 the eyes of the serious villagers. Therefore his assent to 
 Lawrence's proposal was given; the latter offering to 
 pledge himself "on the dagger," the buccaneer's most 
 binding oath, for his fidelity and quick return. 
 
 " And you know, old friend," he added ; " that whatever 
 our pretended faults may be, WE never deceive. But there 
 is one important part of the bargain. I love your daughter 
 to distraction. If I bring back this treasure, I must have 
 your leave to marry her I know what you would say 
 provided that she's willing, of course. I like her, as I've 
 said ; I like her : I like your country here, your grouse 
 and salmon, and everything in short, except your sermons. 
 
104 DABIEtf. 
 
 That article, however, won't prevent me from settling down 
 her, and buying a few lairdships ; and by keeping clear of 
 that cursed Covenant (I beg your pardon), and taking the 
 sermons in a mild proportion, I think I may prove a very 
 edifying character after all." 
 
 Tarn was not taken aback by this bold proposal. He de 
 sired greatly that his daughter should be a " leddie," and 
 able to hold up her head amongst her mother's haughty 
 kinsfolk. He thought that Lawrence was the most perfect 
 gentleman in the world ; and if he had only the possession 
 of the treasure which lay buried in Deadman's Isle, to back 
 his dashing manner and appearance, Tarn did not see why 
 he should not hold up his own and his wife's head, with 
 those of any in the land. 
 
 " To be sure," he thought, " the man drinks a hantle 
 spirits, but he never confuses his head ; and then he swears 
 in an awfu' way, but it's only the habit of the seas ; and he 
 lo'es na the kirk, but then that's for lack o' knowledge, and 
 nae doot he'll take to it weel gin he is mair sib wi' it. 
 After a', if the lassie dinna like him, no harm's done ; and 
 he may as weel gang to sea in a good humour wi' us a', to 
 bring him back agin." 
 
 Hereupon the bargain was ratified as usual with a deep 
 carouse. Lawrence sallied out of the smuggler's house in 
 high spirits, flushed though not flustered with the potations 
 which had scarcely left his host sense enough to guide him 
 to bed. As the sanguine sailor strode along the lane, 
 shadowed by sweetbriars, that still leads to Caerlaverock 
 Castle, he beheld Alice, sorrow-stricken and dejected, re 
 turning home. In such a state, woman's mind becomes 
 plastic, her wounded pride is grateful to the first healing 
 words of kindness, and flattery cannot spread her meshes 
 at a more dangerous moment. The sailor approached her 
 with ardour, tempered by sympathy for her distress, to 
 which, however, except by his manner, he made no allu 
 sion. He little guessed or cared for the cause, but 
 his knowledge of human nature told him it was favourable 
 to his views. He instantly subdued his own nature to 
 Alice's mood; his daring eyes were downcast, his manly 
 and sonorous voice was sunk to a low deep tone, his usually 
 reckless bearing was exchanged for one of diffidence. For 
 some time he walked by his intended victim in silence; 
 then he apologised almost timidly for having intruded on 
 
DARIEtf. 105 
 
 her privacy, but added that he was about to leave Scotland 
 immediately, and sought for this opportunity to take leave. 
 Then, seeming to gain courage as he proceeded, he hurried 
 into an eloquent rhapsody of love, declared that he had her 
 father's permission for doing so, spoke of himself as a lost, 
 wild, hopeless wanderer, who might yet be saved if one 
 pure and noble spirit would take pity on him, feel for him, 
 and and pray for him ! Alice was so completely taken by 
 surprise that she did not venture to speak, or even to look 
 up ; if she had, she would have detected an ironical curl on 
 her lover's lip, as he wound up his appeal to her mercy and 
 her love with that last word. 
 
 But poor Alice in her simplicity believed it all : it was 
 too much in accordance with w r hat was in her own truthful 
 heart to be doubted. It was the sort of appeal which 
 most surely comes home to a woman, for she delights in 
 conversion, the darker the criminal, the greater of course 
 the triumph. Moreover Lawrence was handsome, daring, 
 brilliant in conversation, and full of that fire which is 
 catching as the real element. To sum up in a few words 
 the result of a long dialogue, Alice consented to his suit, 
 she scarcely knew how or why. Poor child ! such revenge 
 was her one weapon against him she loved, and she madly 
 used it ; though, like the bee, its power of inflicting pain 
 was purchased by its own destruction. If Lawrence's keen 
 observation had ever detected any kindly feeling on the 
 part of Alice towards a rival, he now forgot it, or appeared 
 to do so. He went straight to Tinwald. He told him joy 
 ously, and in the same breath, of his betrothal, and of his 
 intended expedition ; at the same time he urged his friend 
 warmly to accompany him to the Spanish Main; to visit 
 that new world of which he had often spoken with such en 
 thusiastic desire to behold. 
 
 There is a wide difference between voluntarily abandon 
 ing an object, and having it wrested from us without hope 
 of recall. This Tinwald now keenly felt ; though he might 
 have expected that Alice at some future period would be 
 come another's wife, he was not prepared for such a sudden 
 transfer of her affections. In his ignorance of woman, he 
 could not imagine that Alice's acceptance of Lawrence, 
 only proved, however paradoxically, the strong recoil of her 
 affection when flung back from himself: a great passion 
 is far more unmanageable than a petty one. 
 
106 EASIEST. 
 
 Tinwald paused before lie replied ; and when lie spoke, 
 it was of the expedition only. In the bitterness of his 
 heart, he grasped eagerly at the remote and romantic danger 
 and excitement of scenes he would formerly have sought in 
 a philosophic spirit. The political efforts in which he had 
 taken part, for the renovation of his country, seemed now 
 unavailing : Fletcher of Saltoun, and the other leaders, had 
 expatriated themselves. For all these reasons he assented 
 to the buccaneer's proposal, provided that he could obtain 
 his father's permission to do so ; and he thus completed 
 Lawrence's triumph. The sailor not only appreciated the 
 assistance and the society of his new friend, but he secretly 
 did not quite relish the idea of leaving him behind with 
 Alice. 
 
 A day of anxious thought and painful presentiment 
 followed for Tinwald. A wide gulf seemed suddenly to 
 have yawned between his past and future life. He shrank 
 from the thought of leaving his father, but his destiny 
 appeared to him to demand that sacrifice ; he might return 
 ere long; he might have it in his power to repair the 
 fortunes of his house, which he had recently learned were 
 utterly broken. At length evening was come : it was the 
 rich, mellow evening of a Scotch autumnal day. The 
 sunset illuminated with its glory every spot on which it fell 
 firth, glade, woodland, and promontory. All that lay in 
 light was golden ; all that lay in shadow was purple or deep 
 violet. Even the formal old manor-house grew picturesque, 
 as the last rays of sunlight ruddily flushed its narrow 
 windows, and threw its high gables into fantastic shadows. 
 Behind this mansion rose a lofty hill, purpled towards its 
 summit with heather, and flecked lower down with corn 
 fields and patches of oak and birch copse. Below, lay the 
 Solway, now stilled into sympathy with the calm sky above 
 it and gleaming like silver, except towards its southern 
 margin, where the undulations of the English coast were 
 mapped upon its surface. 
 
 The old laird was, according to custom, sitting on the 
 stone bench in front of the manor-house, his frame bent 
 forward, his hands resting on his cane ; he seemed gazing 
 on the, vast and magnificent view that lay spread before 
 him, but he saw nothing ; his whole soul was turned in 
 ward to its own sad visions, as he hearkened to his son's 
 earnest pleading for permission to enter upon the life of 
 
DAEIEN. 107 
 
 adventure towards which his inclination drew him. This 
 was a sudden change for the old laird's prospects to un 
 dergo. He had persuaded himself that his son had become 
 reconciled of late to the country life he led : he even hoped 
 that he might still enter the ministry : when suddenly that 
 son reveals to him that his heart is as strongly as ever set 
 upon the pursuit of a vague and distant career, full of 
 danger and obscurity, and that the opportunity of com 
 mencing it is even now impending. In a few short 
 moments the father was called upon to cancel the schemes 
 of many years, and strive to rebuild them upon a widely- 
 different foundation. He reflected, however, that the 
 youth's heart was in his words ; that it still smarted from 
 his contradictions of its dearest wish ; that he had himself 
 exhausted his patrimony, and left to his heir the necessity 
 of making his own way in life. And the poor lad's prayer 
 was modest ; it was only " to be allowed to seek his fortune; 
 to go forth upon the world unfettered, and free to follow 
 whatever path destiny might open to him : he trusted that 
 a short absence might suffice, and that he might then 
 return to his father's home, happy with the glory of having 
 done some good to those distant nations who had long 
 possessed his sympathies ; and perchance be blessed, more 
 over, with such worldly wealth as w r as needed to restore 
 his family to its ancient condition. This plan, which the 
 young man's ardour already thought was consummated, his 
 father received with such sorrowful misgivings as years and 
 disappointment had instilled. The more glorious the 
 visions of the sanguine youth, the more gifts and capa 
 bilities he displayed, the more did the old man mourn for 
 the waste to which he believed them doomed. 
 
 To be brief. The force of youth and of paternal love 
 prevailed over the father's weakness and the father's fear. 
 The consent was obtained. The youth hastened away to 
 make his preparations ; his thoughts, in their tumultuous 
 career, trampling down the memory of Alice, and unmind 
 ful, because ignorant, of the broken hopes and well-nigh 
 broken heart of him whom he was about to abandon. Thus 
 it has always been, and thus it must ever be ; otherwise 
 there would be little progression in our race, and- youth's 
 active energies would be bounded by the narrow orbit and 
 cautious slowness of old age. 
 
108 DAEIEN. 
 
 The old laird watched with mournful eyes his son as he 
 strode forth, endeavouring in some measure to disguise the 
 buoyancy which gratified desire imparted to his steps. 
 Suddenly some kindred feelings of hopefulness gleamed 
 across the old man's care-worn countenance, and his son 
 was called back. 
 
 "Willie, lad !" he exclaimed, laying his thin hand upon 
 the strong arm, that he hoped would have been as the staff 
 of his age ; " "Willie, I hae been thinking that aiblins I was 
 wrang in crossing your luve for Alice Graeme. She's a 
 bonnie lassie, and douce and gude ; and tho' by her father's 
 side she has nae gentle bluid, she may hae as muckle 
 gentleness in her heart as wad make her husband happy ; 
 for it's a' gentleness that does it. "What need we mair, 
 Willie ? Tak' her now, wi' my blessing, and ye needna 
 fash yoursel' anent the kirk, but bide till Heaven, in its ain 
 gude time, gie ye a ca'. And ye sal just hae the Lang 
 Earm to begin wi', and try your new-fangled practices wi' 
 the iron pleugh and a'. On siccan land it maun do na less 
 than keep ye the untill your ain gude brains sal make ye 
 better means. What need o' mair? Stay wi' us, my 
 laddie, in our auld house, and be happy. And gie up yon 
 fearfu.' sea to sic as be ca'd of Providence to its fearfu' 
 venture. There, now, gie us your hand, Willie ! We'll 
 hae your kind and winsom lassie amangst us yet ; and ye'll 
 be true till her, as ye hae been to me, and your comely face 
 will shine on me thro' the gloamin o' life, and it will licht 
 the dark passage o' death for your puir auld foolish father." 
 
 The laird paused, and bent his face over the hand he 
 clasped, as though afraid to lose it. Some gray hairs, 
 moved by the evening breeze, swept over it, and more than 
 one small tear oozed out from the dim old eyes. The son 
 could not dared not resist this kindly-meant entreaty. 
 The pang of disappointment that for a moment wrung his 
 heart was manfully stifled. His scheme suddenly appeared 
 to him to be selfish and unjustifiable ; and when he retired 
 for the night with his father's blessing and gratitude, he 
 felt almost reconciled to live and die on his mortgaged 
 patrimony, and in sight of Sandilee, with the lost treasure 
 it contained. 
 
 The next morning he set out for Dumfries, and gladly 
 exchanged, during a few days, the councils of the dis- 
 
DABIEtf. 109 
 
 comforted patriots, for the scenes that he had left behind 
 him in his peaceful-looking home. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Yes, give me but my choice, I'd be a bird ; 
 
 But it must be an Osprey a sea-king ! 
 "Wherever gale awoke, or billow stirr'd, 
 
 Breasting the tempest ; ever on the wing ! 
 Steering, when winter frown'd, to seek the spring, 
 
 By " vext Bermoothes," or some Indian shore. 
 
 Modern Orlando. 
 
 LAWRENCE meanwhile had been exerting his extraordinary 
 energies in getting the Bonito ready for sea. In this 
 Partan's skill was greatly missed ; but the absence of the 
 poor fellow himself was of little interest to any one in the 
 village except Alice, between whom and Tinwald he formed 
 a curious link. She, however, knew nothing of the mystery 
 that attached to his fate. Since the hour that she parted 
 from Lawrence, she had shut herself up in her room in 
 sadness and sickness of heart. Tarn made some few in 
 quiries about his old comrade when he missed the key of 
 the locker in the little craft that had so long served poor 
 Partan as a home. And Madden Eay and young Swilltap, 
 from curiosity, explored the adjacent shore, where it was 
 supposed he had fallen in one of his drunken fits. Tinwald, 
 no doubt, would have made a more energetic and wider 
 search had he not been absent from home and ignorant of 
 the sailor's disappearance. But no trace was discovered of 
 the lost sailor; and, after a day or two, his melancholy 
 existence was forgotten. 
 
 The buccaneer had hitherto failed in procuring any sea 
 men for such an ambiguous voyage as that to which the 
 Bonito was destined. Young Swilltap, for various reasons, 
 would fain have enrolled himself under his command, but 
 his father would not hear of such a sacrifice. At last, Law 
 rence succeeded in discovering a couple of " run " sailors 
 who were skulking about the coast, and with these men he 
 declared himself ready to proceed immediately to the south 
 ward. His only avowed destination, as we before stated, 
 
110 DAEIEN. 
 
 was Bristol ; but he was not the sort of man to lay down 
 for himself any law beyond the hour. Tarn endeavoured to 
 expedite his departure by supplying all his needs with un 
 wonted liberality. His regard for what was left of his 
 reputation concurred with his greed of gold in wishing his 
 guest well away. The good people of Sandilee tolerated 
 freely their own smuggling seamen ; but the irregularities 
 of this " interlouping captain," as they called him, brought 
 not a little scandal on his entertainer. For though the 
 stranger himself seemed to be beyond the reach of the in 
 fluence of any liquors, however potent, he took a strange 
 pleasure in promoting intoxication in every one else. He 
 was a prime boon companion ; and under his spell the most 
 simple act of good fellowship soon expanded into downright 
 orgies. Night after night, songs of by no means a serious 
 cast, were heard issuing from Tarn's domicile ; and as often 
 as the manly melodious strains with which Lawrence enter 
 tained his new followers were heard, a considerable number 
 of villagers assembled to lament over them, and listen to 
 them. 
 
 One Friday night, Lawrence and his seamen, together 
 with Swilltap and Madden Hay (who had been latterly 
 seduced by the buccaneer into his revels), were assembled 
 in the Peel-house for the last time. On the morrow they 
 were to sail. 
 
 Tarn's old parlour was once more lighted up by the fire 
 blazing to the widest extent of the arched chimney; the 
 oak table once more was furnished with all that mountain 
 stills could produce of potent and fragrant beverages. At 
 one end of the festive board sate Tarn, grim and senten 
 tious; opposite was Lawrence, with his eyes of fire, and 
 his ever-ready and impetuous flow of words words that 
 might have kindled dangerous resolves in better-regulated 
 minds than those which there bowed before him. He was 
 excited at the prospect of enterprise that once more opened 
 before him. He intended, for his wild sense of honour's 
 sake, to be true in the matter of the treasure ; but before 
 and after it was reached, there was a wide margin of pos 
 sibilities. Even the thoughts of Alice grew dim before the 
 ambition that revived in his ardent heart. He had not 
 seen her since his declaration ; he had been informed that 
 he was not to see her, and he scarcely cared. But he flung 
 
DAEIEN. Ill 
 
 open the window to let in the sea-breezes that he loved, not 
 perhaps without a hope that some words of his parting song 
 might reach her ear. Then, in order to inspire his com 
 rades with his own spirit of expectation, he raised his voice, 
 and sang nearly as follows : 
 
 " Come, comrades of right metal, with hearts and hands of steel ; 
 Come swell one chorus merrily, though it be a parting peal : 
 For the voices troll'd together now, must never blend again 
 Till we've won red gold and glory on the distant Spanish Main. 
 
 " Oh, pleasant are the islands that stud those glorious seas ! 
 Where spicy groves and honey'd flowers shed perfume on each 
 
 breeze ; 
 
 Where luscious fruits to meet us bend ; and woman's fondest wiles 
 Woo us, in vain, to linger in those soft luxurious isles. 
 
 " There the wild bull bides our bullet, and the turtle waits our spear ; 
 And the richest wines of plunder'd Spain inflame our jovial cheer. 
 But these are not the joys we seek beneath the tropic sky ; 
 Or, when we've quaffed them for an hour, to fiercer sports we fly. 
 
 " For hoarded in those islands, and floating on those seas, 
 Is boundless wealth in fortress towers and well-mann'd argosies. 
 And the gold that has been garner'd thro' lives of slavish toil 
 Is the guerdon of one gallant hour, the rover's rightful spoil. 
 
 " Let the Spaniard man his fortress, and arm his brave galleon,* 
 The f oeman's struggle to keep his gold enhances the bright boon : 
 For the prize that's undefended, be it girl or golden gear, 
 Is like carrion to the eagle and repels the Buccaneer. 
 
 " But we lack nor strife, nor guerdon, for whereso'er we go 
 We've the Spaniard for a booty and the world for a foe. 
 Then where's the life afloat, ashore the calling, the career, 
 To suit brave hearts like the roving life of the gallant Buccaneer ? " 
 
 The applause that followed this wild ditty was very sub 
 dued among those to whom it was addressed; whilst the 
 listeners gathered round the window were as vehement in 
 its condemnation as if it had been delivered for their ap 
 proval. Young Swilltap alone ventured to uphold its merits, 
 on the strength of his father being engaged in the Peel- 
 house, and declared that it stirred up his " buzzom like a 
 sow-wester did the Solway." But notwithstanding the 
 reprehension of the villagers, the festivity continued until 
 they were fain to retire ; and through sheer weariness, to 
 
 * Pronounced "galloon." 
 
112 DAEIEtf. 
 
 leave uncriticised the further proceedings of Tarn and his 
 guests. Just as they were about to withdraw from the 
 post of observation, however, they saw their young laird 
 enter the Peel-house ; and great was the astonishment ex 
 pressed at "a decent man like him joining sic campsteery 
 doing." But when he entered, the orgies ceased. Soon 
 afterwards, Tinwald and the captain were seen strolling 
 together along the moonlit shore ; and the ire of the vil 
 lagers was once more roused by the sailors, as they stag 
 gered towards their boat, roaring out a well-known song of 
 the day : 
 
 *' Each port and each town 
 
 We still make our own, 
 Cape Breton, Crown Point, Niagau ; 
 
 Guadalonpe, Senegal, 
 
 Quebec's mighty fall, 
 Shall prove we've no equal in man. 
 
 Once more Lawrence endeavoured to shake Tinwald's 
 resolution. He tried in vain, for it was founded on duty ; 
 and besides the young laird no longer felt himself attracted 
 by the stranger. Whether it was that the true character 
 of the man and of his profession had discovered itself, or 
 that a sense of rivalry had inspired an unacknowledged 
 repugnance, Tinwald rejoiced when the hour of their sepa 
 ration approached. He had promised to see Lawrence 
 once more before his departure ; he had come at the last 
 hour to keep this appointment. 
 
 ""Well," said the buccaneer; "if you are determined to 
 stay behind, accept the deepest mark of confidence I can 
 bestow. Believe me, that with my knowledge of mankind, 
 there are few whom I could so trust under such circum 
 stances. To your guardianship, my friend, I bequeath my 
 Alice" (Tinwald shuddered at the expression, but was silent). 
 
 "I love her," resumed the sailor, "with a devouring un 
 accountable love. 'T is strange that I never felt a passion 
 before that deserved the name ! At this moment I would 
 willingly forego, for her sake, the life I have so long led, 
 the career I have so long gloried in. Nay, if I now leave 
 her, it is only in the hope to win for her a more honourable 
 name. Once restored to the Brethren of the Coast, and 
 upheld by such a motive, I can look forward to any prize 
 that valour ever won upon the seas. One or two dashing 
 
DAEIE^. 113 
 
 exploits may place me in a much higher position than that 
 lout Morgan, who received a government and a title from 
 the people whom he had forced to fear him. If the fates 
 befriend me, I shall soon have such a name to offer to Alice 
 as may make men wonder, not at my presumption, but at 
 my generosity." 
 
 All this grated sorely on Tinwald's ear; but he kept its 
 bitterness to himself, and contented himself with gravely 
 advising the rover to alter his habits and his character, (if 
 possible,) as the first step towards qualifying himself to be 
 come the husband of an honest girl. 
 
 " That's all very well in talk, but impossible in practice," 
 replied Lawrence. "Why, man, were I to join the Bre 
 thren with the cant and character of your long-winded 
 preachers here, I should be laughed at, deposed from com 
 mand, and have my throat cut before I was a week among 
 'em. No, no ; carnal weapons (as your friends here call 
 'em) are the only weapons for carnal men. When the 
 career is run, and the battle done, we may strike sail and 
 overhaul our conscience. Till then, the Red Flag must be 
 our banner, and nailed to the mast-head. But I had need 
 be gone ; the moon will soon set, and we must haul out to 
 get an offing before the tide turns. Tour Solway is not 
 to be trifled with, and it seems to have swallowed up that 
 sour old Partan, who could have piloted us out in any 
 weather." 
 
 "What has happened to him, poor fellow?" exclaimed 
 Tinwald. " I have not seen him since my return." 
 
 " Nor any one else," replied Lawrence, coolly. " He has 
 stowed himself away in Davy Jones's locker, I suspect. 
 But here's the boat. Farewell." 
 
 The buccaneer leaped on board, waved his cap theatrically 
 towards the Peel-house, where, in the highest window, his 
 keen eye could distinguish a female form, and the next 
 moment he was cleaving the water towards the schooner. 
 
 Tinwald was too much shocked on hearing of Partan's 
 fate,to think much about his parting guest; and he returned 
 hastily towards the Peel-house, where lights were still burn 
 ing, to make some inquiries about the old sailor. 
 
 Alice had been watching all that passed from her window 
 in the tower. The moon was then shining, bright and 
 clear, and she could perceive the two men standing by the 
 
 H 
 
DAEIEK. 
 
 shore. She still thought that Tinwald was about to take his 
 departure with the buccaneer, and that he was only return 
 ing to her father's house for something that had been for 
 gotten. She thought that it was even possible he might 
 wish to see her, the companion of other days, once more 
 before he went away : yielding to the happy delusion, and 
 obeying its impulse, she went to meet him in the porch. 
 Women, even the most timorous, are often more adven 
 turous in such exigencies than stout-hearted men: and 
 Alice seemed now to have lost all sense of timidity : poor 
 child ! she felt that it was the turning point of her destiny. 
 Tinwald would have passed her by with a formal salute, but 
 she laid her little hand upon his arm, and the touch arrested 
 him like a spell. Her dark eyes, full to the brim of unshed 
 tears, were fixed on his. 
 
 " And is it true ? " she exclaimed ; " and are you ganging 
 -awa' ower the far seas and among bluidy-minded men, and 
 a' without one parting look one little word ? " 
 
 The unsophisticated girl drew nearer to her lost lover as 
 she spoke ; her tears spread over her long lashes, and at last 
 dropped slowly and unconsciously, as she still gazed on 
 Tiuwald's pale, unmoved countenance. He did not trust 
 himself to speak, and she continued, as if she felt again 
 reproved. 
 
 " Why should I be shamed to speak I, who always told 
 you my heart's own truth ? I know they have told you 
 that I'm trothed to another. "Wae's me ! it's ower true. 
 But it was words words only Tinwald, and few of them 
 that gaed to the Southron sailor ; and sure there was some 
 spell upon me, or he'd never hae got sae muckle as that. 
 My first, last love, was ever where it was born, and must 
 die." 
 
 So saying, the ignorant girl in the abandonment of her 
 grief laid her head, heavy with all its glossy hair, upon his 
 breast, and sobbed to her foolish heart's content ; too happy, 
 she thought, if her grief, thus pillowed, could last for ever ! 
 
 Tinwald loved ; and the glow of unexhausted youth was 
 fervid in his veins ; but his chivalrous sense of honour had 
 been formed from old books, rather than from living men. 
 He came of the stern race which had furnished Puritans 
 and martyrs, accustomed to prize a victory over temptation 
 as dearly as ever did conqueror over a human foe. And 
 
DARIEtf. 115 
 
 then lie could not and would not forget that Alice was the 
 plighted bride of another. The very strength of the trial 
 roused his spirit to battle with and triumph over it; he 
 slowly very slowly, it must be owned disengaged himself 
 from the too trusting and dangerous embrace; and his 
 countenance maintained its unmoved though melancholy 
 expression, as Alice recoiled into an attitude of pride that 
 became her graceful girlish form well. 
 
 " Alice ! " he said, gently, " I am not going away. I 
 have just promised to stay and bide with my father, and 
 the hope of distant travel, with other hopes, is dead within 
 me. But, Alice, I might as well be away, as far as regards 
 all that has ever passed between you and me in the happy 
 days of your free childhood. I thank you for your love ; 
 but it must be a sister's love ; so that when the Southron 
 comes back, both you and I may meet him with honest 
 faces. Y~es, lassie ! I would not see a blush of shame upon 
 that cheek for all the joy that woman ever gave to man ; 
 and I would rather know thee the spotless, true-hearted wife 
 of another, than my own bride, if any wind of heaven could 
 whisper a reproach of you." 
 
 The young stoic pressed the hand of Alice kindly, and 
 turned to depart, forgetful of all his other purposes. Once 
 more, however, he was arrested, not by the touch, but by 
 the grasp of his lost love. Now no tear was in her eye 
 no supplication in her attitude no pleading in her voice. 
 She stood erect and proudly, and her eyes shone with 
 indignant fire as she flung back her dishevelled hair from her 
 brow, to set those glances free. 
 
 " Tinwald !" she exclaimed, "they always told me you 
 were proud and cold-hearted, but I would not believe it. < I 
 am punished, I am punished for my faith in you. I 
 thought your gentle blood must give you gentle feeling ; and 
 never, never thought that you could triumph over, and 
 trample on a poor, lone, motherless girl's feelings, and put 
 her to shame at her own door. Go your way, now, you'll 
 hardly be stopped again by love as true as mine." 
 
 And Tinwald, strange as it may seem to some of us, did 
 turn away ; and the sound of his firm tread along the 
 darkening shore was long audible. Then Alice sank upon 
 her knees, and wept and sobbed as if her heart would break ; 
 -and that poor forlorn heart loved Willie better than ever it 
 
 11 2 
 
116 DAEIE1S". 
 
 had done before. She felt that he was nobly sustaining the 
 heroic character with which her imagination delighted to 
 invest him ; and though the thought aggravated her humi 
 liation when contrasted with her own conduct, her conscious 
 ness scarcely amounted as yet to a sense of error. 
 
 Poor Alice now, indeed, felt the want of a mother's care. 
 Her teachers had acted conscientiously in storing her mind 
 with the usual amount of knowledge : they had trained her 
 in most of the external proprieties of life ; but from those 
 instructions, all that relates to the government of the 
 affections had been excluded as indecorous. In her father's 
 home she had much leisure for solitary musing, and no friend 
 to direct its tendency ; thus, that insidious guest " first 
 love," found easy entrance to her unguarded heart : and it is 
 no wonder that when a storm arose therein, instinctive 
 perceptions of right and wrong were for the time obscured. 
 
 The next morning there was no more trace of the schooner 
 than of the scene that had taken place in Tarn's porch. 
 The little vessel was sailing away, nevertheless, cheerily 
 dashing aside the waves that opposed her course ; and 
 Tinwald, equally invisible to Alice, was holding his course- 
 steadily onward, dashing aside every caitiff thought that 
 interfered with its rectitude. 
 
 A month passed on, and the recollection of the Bonito 
 seemed only to live in the avaricious hopes of Tarn, the fears 
 of Tinwald, and the remorse of Alice, who wished a thousand 
 times a day that she had never seen the pirate's face. 
 Tinwald appeared to devote all his strong energies to agri 
 cultural pursuits and country interests. He cast aside the 
 reserve and seclusion that had distinguished his youth, and 
 now mingled freely among men, at a time when most people 
 were withdrawing as much as possible into privacy, owing 
 to the persecution that still raged. Then it was, as tradi 
 tion represents, that he received a requisition from the Whig 
 party to serve in the Scottish Parliament ; but he refused, on 
 account of the still declining health of the old laird, who 
 continued to feel as cheered by his presence every morning 
 that he rose, as on the day when his son first abandoned his 
 desires for his duty. 
 
 One evening, as Tinwald was returning home, he heard 
 the sound of a strange voice in his father's house. On 
 entering, he found a youth, who had evidently just dis- 
 
DABIE^. 117 
 
 mounted from his horse, and had been riding hard, standing 
 by his father's side. The old man had covered his face with 
 his hands, and was so absorbed in some sudden grief, that 
 he did not perceive his son's entrance ; but the stranger 
 turned quickly round and embraced him affectionately. 
 
 " Te'll scarcely remember me, kinsman," he said ; " it's 
 so lang since we met, and they tell me I'm something grown. 
 Wae's me that I bring bad news ; but a friend of yours, 
 umquhile a cornet in Claverse's dragoons, bade me ride for 
 my life and tell you to fly ; they've found some corre 
 spondence of yours with Fletcher of Saltoun, and they swear 
 they'll make sure of you, though he has escaped them." 
 
 The laird raised his eyes to his son : full they were of 
 undying love, that shone with melancholy light on his 
 son's memory in many an after year, in many a trying 
 scene. Tears were trickling down the old man's wan and 
 wasted features, but he spoke in a firm voice, for the agony 
 of grief was over : 
 
 " God's will be done ! My son, we maun now part 
 indeed; but I thank Him that He has prepared me for 
 the blow, and that yer heart stays wi' me still. Tak' my 
 blessin', Willie, and bide not a minute langer." 
 
 This sudden revulsion of all his prospects might well 
 have shaken even young Tinwald's self-control ; but he had 
 been long prepared for danger, and had made all his 
 arrangements with Scotch foresight, having even laid aside 
 a travelling fund out of his scanty resources. He did not 
 hesitate to obey his father ; for he well knew, by recent 
 tragical examples, that if he was taken he was lost to him. 
 for ever. He was on his road towards the Border, there 
 fore, in an incredibly short time. The sound of his father's 
 blessing lingered still in his ear and on his heart, as he 
 pressed rapidly along the dark but well-known path. His 
 young kinsman rode by his side, but respected his silence, 
 and it was long before he found himself addressed. 
 
 "Pardon me, good lad," said the fugitive at last, "that 
 I have given you such scanty thanks for the good service 
 you have rendered me. And now let me ask you how you 
 chanced to be a messenger to me, and whither you are 
 bound?" 
 
 " You know," said the youth, " that my father has many 
 money transactions with all parties in these queer times; 
 
118 DAKIEN. 
 
 and latterly these Church-dragoons have had all their pay 
 through him. I brought certain moneys this morning to- 
 Dumfries, to Drummond himself, and I had some business 
 of the same sort to transact with Sir Standon, the young 
 cornet, who is now a close prisoner waiting the king's 
 decision on a court-martial lately held upon him. As soon 
 as he saw me, he called to mind having met you and me 
 together in Edinburgh, and he said to me, ' John Law, 
 your friend Paterson's life and liberty both are in danger. 
 Hire a trusty messenger at any price for me, despatch him 
 on my horse, and tell him to spare it not.' I said if the 
 beastie were a good one, I would like the ride mysel' ; 
 whereupon he smiled, and bid me take his Yorkshire mare, 
 and keep her for my trouble. So having settled before 
 hand what business I had, and sent my servant with notice 
 of it to my father, I spurred off, and ye may be sure, by 
 the puir mare's looks that I thought more of you than of 
 her. Now, for your second question ; the reason I am with 
 you still, is partly to keep you company, and partly to 
 learn of you, whether your intention is to gae beyond 
 seas to the Indies. If so, I am determined to join you and 
 take my chance; so long as I can see strange countries, 
 and especially those lands of gold, I care nothing for 
 danger or discomfort." 
 
 " Good lad," replied Tinwald, "you little know what you 
 propose to encounter. And if your fourteen years were 
 doubled, I would still refuse to let you follow me. Your 
 father, John, is well to do and well respected in the world ; 
 you have quick talents with good promise before you in 
 your own country. I solemnly adjure you to return to 
 your home and duty. Remember that with your time 
 before you, and your talent, you may be ANYTHING you 
 choose to aspire to." 
 
 Much more of the same import Tinwald added ; but of 
 all his wise words the last quoted were those that alone 
 sank into the boy's heart, and took root there, and after 
 wards bore wondrous fruit. After an hour's rapid riding, 
 John Law yielded to his cousin's desire, and returned by 
 bye-pathg to his father's house at Lauriston. 
 
 Meanwhile Tinwald pursued his lonely way towards the 
 Border. But fearing to be detected there, he stopped at a 
 small village called Dornoch, to disguise himself. Its inha- 
 
DAEIEN. 119 
 
 bitants were fishermen, who, preparing to go to sea, soon 
 began to assemble on the shore. The persecution which 
 then prevailed, involved almost all the Border Scots in a 
 common cause, and a fugitive was always sure of a kindly 
 welcome, when there were no spies or troopers near. 
 Tinwald in a few words explained his position, and his. 
 desire to change clothes with some of the poorly-clad men 
 whom he addressed. To this they readily assented ; but as 
 some question arose as to any of their coats fitting him, 
 one of them proposed to take a doublet belonging to the 
 " sick man, who was never likely to want it again." 
 
 " Puir fellow !" continued the speaker ; " he's lain sense 
 less this month, and ever syne we fand him on the stanes, 
 there's scarce a glimmering o' life in him, but just eneugh 
 to keep body and soul thegither, and that no for lang, I'm 
 thinking." 
 
 This speech excited Tinwald's curiosity ; for he had long 
 and vainly sought for some tidings of poor Partan, and the 
 time and circumstance now mentioned seemed to agree 
 with those under which he had disappeared. He begged 
 to be taken to the sufferer's presence, and at once recog 
 nised in the spectral-looking figure before him, the wofully- 
 changed form of his humble friend. The worthy fishermen 
 had found him lying on the rocks at high-water mark as 
 they were coasting home against the tide. He scarcely 
 seemed to breathe, but they took him carefully to their 
 village ; laid him in the best cottage's best room, and had 
 since ministered to him as far as their small means and 
 skill enabled them. He had never spoken, and they sup 
 posed him to be some foreign sailor, whose ship had been 
 lost among the quicksands. 
 
 Tinwald tried to make him speak, but he gave no 
 symptom of intelligence ; an occasional long-drawn breath, 
 and a quiver of the closed eyelids, alone showed that he was 
 not the mere corpse he seemed to be. Tinwald's own 
 necessity w r as too urgent to admit of his remaining long to 
 watch over him. With some difficulty he prevailed on the 
 fisherman to accept remuneration for his care ; he desired 
 him to get the best medical assistance he could procure 
 (which was no nearer than Carlisle), and as soon as he was 
 able to be moved, to convey him to the manor-house. At 
 
120 DABIEtf. 
 
 the same time lie wrote a note to his father, bequeathing 
 the old sailor to his care. 
 
 That was the last action that the fugitive performed for 
 many a day on Scottish ground. In a few hours he had 
 passed the border by a footpath, in disguise ; a fisherman's 
 lad riding his horse forward to meet him in Carlisle. 
 
 Of his adventures thence to Bristol we possess no ac 
 count. We only know, from an old pamphlet in the Bodleian, 
 that he there lodged in the house of a widow, his mother's 
 distant kinswoman. With her he remained for some 
 months, no doubt exercising himself in good offices. It 
 appears that soon afterwards his hostess died, and be 
 queathed to him her small possessions. The next glimpse 
 that we obtain of him is in a far-away land, under very 
 different circumstances. 
 
 Here ends Book the First of this veracious history; 
 still more veracious, let me add, as the plot proceeds ; for 
 now we are about to leave the transactions of private life, 
 and enter upon scenes of which the world was once 
 cognizant. 
 
 Having extracted the foregoing matters from the hetero 
 geneous mass of dates, diaries, letters, and pamphlets that 
 had fallen into my hands ; and having, as I thought, dis 
 played much edifying industry in their arrangement, I met 
 my old highland friend at Tibbie Sheils's with some confi 
 dence. The attention with which he listened was very 
 earnest, and made me begin to feel that my hastily- 
 assumed responsibilities had been very inefficiently dis 
 charged. He heard me to the end, however, and then, 
 with provoking benignancy, observed : 
 
 " I hae nae doubt ye hae written yer best, sir. But, 
 besides minor faults which I will no stap to specify, ye hae 
 twa major faults : ye hae ta'en up half the buik wi' the 
 youth o' Tinwald (or Paterson, as ye suld ca' him.) And, 
 again, yer Scottish dialect is vera imparfect." 
 
 " With respect to the first objection," I replied, boldly, 
 " I have but done my duty to the nature of the case. Man's 
 real history is comprised in that part of his life of which 
 we take least notice. What is manhood and age but a series 
 of denouemens of the romance begun in youth, a con- 
 
DAEIEN. 121 
 
 tinned extrication of ourselves from more or less false 
 impressions that bewildered and led us astray? As men 
 emerge into manhood, their actions and experiences become 
 their history, and their feelings show less and less upon the 
 surface. The practical grows predominant over the ideal, 
 and they become fitter materials for grave biographers 
 than for us rhapsodists. For the future, you shall find facts 
 enough; but let the fancies (if they deserve the name) 
 stand as they are. 
 
 " As to your criticism of my Scotch, I have less to say. 
 No candid critic (except yourself) would expect from a 
 mere Southron perfect command of an undefined and 
 ever- varying dialect, a semi-barbarous language, which the 
 magic of Scott's genius alone had power to render clas 
 sical, and winch even Burns could not render musical." 
 
 "Weel, weel," rejoined the highlander, "let it stand. 
 But dinna ca' barb'rous that true Doric whilk has been 
 the medium to the intellectual warld o' Burns' mind, o' 
 Allan Cunningham's, o' Hogg's, o' the Border Ballads, 
 not to say o' the ' Noctes Ambrosiance.'' Ye ought to be 
 more 'shamed o' imperfection in that dialec', as ye ca't, 
 than o' imperfection in the tongue of the French, or ony 
 ither o' our nat'ral enemies. But, to speak o' mair 
 pressin', tho' not mair serious things, here are ye, after 
 near three hundred pages, and ye hae not yet extracted 
 Paterson from his ain hame frae the cradle o' his real life, 
 as I may ca' it." 
 
 "That objection," said I, in a very subdued manner, 
 "will be soon removed. It is seldom that one of your 
 countrymen can be accused of remaining too long in his 
 own country. You know the old distich: 
 
 " ' Had Cain been a Scot, Heaven would have altered his doom ; 
 Not forced him to wander, but confined him at home.' " 
 
 Again my highlander returned to the attack : 
 "Ye'll be makin' that Spaniard the chief man of the 
 story," he objected, " whilk, after a', is no his, but "Willie 
 Paterson's. An' it seems to me there's mair true romance 
 in that great man's simple story than in all the fictions that 
 ye can gather out o' Marchants and Morescoes, (as ye misca' 
 them,) to boot." 
 
 " My good friend," I replied ; " I attempt to give you 
 
122 DAEIEX. 
 
 not only the history of your countryman, but as much as 
 my poor memory and skill can furnish of his accessories 
 of the men with whom he worked out his destiny, and the 
 scenes wherein his work was performed; something, in 
 short, of all that makes up the complement of a man, in 
 stead of the few naked personal facts that may be found 
 in any biographical dictionary. Allow me, in passing, to 
 observe, that Moresco is the term applied to the Moors of 
 Spain, in contradistinction to those of Barbary." 
 
 " Weel, weel!" exclaimed the old man, "gang yer ain 
 gait. The puir man that has patience to mak' a buik, has 
 some claim to the patience o' him wha only reads it. But, 
 for ony sake, when neist we meet, let's hear something o* 
 auld Scotland, insted o' your pagans and papishes, and a* 
 their ungospel doings." 
 
 I was obliged to postpone complying with this request- 
 in the few following chapters ; which at our next meeting I 
 proceeded with to my highlander, as follows. 
 
 EIS T D OP BOOK THE FIEST. 
 
DAE1EN. 123 
 
 BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
 THE NEW WOKLD. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 Swiftly, through the foaming sea, 
 Shoots our vessel gallantly ; 
 Still approaching, as she flies, 
 Warmer suns and brighter skies. 
 
 METKICK. 
 
 turn once more to Spain. 
 
 "We left Alvarez in the house of Hamet, at Seville, for 
 getting his sorrows in sleep. His friend Reduan's corpse 
 still hangs suspended over his funeral pyre, warped and 
 blackened with the blaze from which it was yet scarcely 
 cold. The officiating priests have returned to their spi 
 ritual functions or carnal refection in the city ; and their 
 edified flocks are dancing the fandango, and making love 
 under the noble trees that line the Guadalquivir. Hamet 
 has hastened away to fulfil his dying fellow-countryman's 
 injunctions. He has learned from Edrisi of the Omarad 
 the story that Alvarez will shudder to hear. Its import is 
 as follows : 
 
 Heduan had still retained command of immense trea 
 sure, notwithstanding the seisure of his patron's castle. 
 He had bribed his way to the widowed lady ; but beyond 
 one interview, even gold could not avail him. He learned 
 from her that she had been treated with respect, though 
 daily threatened with the torture, being accused of 
 Judaism, of unholy practices, and of defrauding the Spanish 
 crown. All was to be forgiven, and her freedom restored, 
 if she would send for her son : she had refused, and hourly 
 expected to be put to the " Question," as it was called. 
 Eeduan knew, from dread experience, that to offer himself 
 as witness, or as substitute for the poor lady, would only 
 ensure his own destruction without benefit to her. He 
 lost some precious days in vainly devising means for her 
 escape ; and the month, during which Alvarez had sworn 
 
124 DAEIEN. 
 
 to wait for him in the mountains, was nearly expired : the 
 Moresco resolved to make one desperate effort to release 
 the Senora before it ended. He had discovered, in a 
 modest, inoffensive-looking brigantine at Cadiz, a daring 
 captain, and a few resolute men who were ready to follow 
 him " to the jaws of hell," as they expressed it, for the 
 gold which he was equally ready to lavish on them if the 
 enterprise succeeded. Their vessel lay ready to sail ; they 
 conveyed themselves to Seville: they followed Eeduan to 
 the walls of the Inquisition. Well mounted and armed, 
 they were ready and willing to fight their way to San 
 Lucar ; once there, to reach their brigantine seemed to them 
 an easy task. Eeduan, disguised as a familiar of the Holy 
 Office, conducted them at midnight to its great, gloomy 
 gate. He was admitted on giving a certain signal and they 
 waited for him for one hour. 
 
 They had then fulfilled their contract ; they rode away to 
 their boats, and dropped quietly down the river to their ship. 
 Eeduan had been betrayed : but the official, whose services 
 he had purchased at an enormous rate, had kept his word ; 
 he had introduced him into the cell where the Senora was 
 confined. Her spirit had already been released by a 
 mightier hand. Nothing but her mortal form was left, 
 and that had already resumed, in the repose of death, the 
 exquisite harmony which the fatal rack could no longer 
 distort. Her faithful friend felt almost relieved to see her 
 thus ; at last secure from all suffering, beyond the reach of 
 all persecution. Wax tapers stood at the head and feet of 
 the wan unconscious form, and Eeduan gazed upon those 
 changed but still lovely lineaments long and earnestly. At 
 length he roused himself from his sad reverie, and turned 
 to depart ; but the familiar was gone ; the door had closed 
 silently behind him, and he, too, was in the grasp of the 
 Holy Office ! 
 
 After two days' imprisonment, one of his jailers gave him 
 to understand that his days were numbered, but that if he 
 could ensure him a proportionate reward, he would take a 
 last message to his friends. A scrap of paper, in peculiar 
 cabalistic signs, was thus conveyed at a certain hour to the 
 corner of a certain street, and dropped there in the dust. 
 Crowds of people were passing to and fro ; several picked 
 up the bit of paper and flung it down again as worthless. 
 
DAEIEtf. 125 
 
 Edrisi, by previous arrangement, was among the crowd; 
 lie, also, picked up the bit of paper, and after a glance at its 
 contents, he, too, flung it down, and it was soon trampled 
 into fragments. But its purpose was fulfilled. Before 
 entering on his desperate undertaking, Eeduan had con 
 fided to his friend Edrisi all his arrangements, and a packet 
 for Alvarez, containing advice for his future conduct and 
 statements of all the resources that yet remained to his 
 once wealthy house. The brigantine was to wait for Alvarez 
 up to a certain day ; but should he come on board, she was 
 immediately to put to sea, and convey him to the New 
 World, whither she was bound. He was further to change 
 his name as a measure of safety. 
 
 Such were the revelations of Edrisi : we need not follow 
 Hamet to his home, or observe their effect on young 
 Alvaro as we shall henceforth call him ; his despair, his 
 vows of vengeance. No one, least of all he himself, could 
 describe his maddening sense of helpless misery, of impo 
 tent wrath. 
 
 Hamet waited calmly until the first burst of his pas 
 sionate feeling had exploded ; and then, in the temporary 
 prostration that followed, he endeavoured to soothe and to 
 direct his thoughts to safety. 
 
 The day after the Auto-da-fe was over, and midnight had 
 come. The brigantine, a large slovenly-looking craft, 
 with yards ill squared and sails half furled, lay in the 
 tideway, off the town of San Lucar. Her captain trod the 
 deck with measured steps, now and then casting a searching 
 look all round, and then with muttered curses resuming his 
 walk. The clocks in the city chimed, and he called to a 
 man who seemed to be the mate. 
 
 "Nick, turn up the hands," he said, eagerly; "and see 
 all clear to slip moorings as soon as she swings with the 
 tide. Our time's up, and we've been here long enough and 
 to spare. Daylight would bring us trouble, unless my eyes 
 deceive me." 
 
 The fore-topsail fell slowly from the brails, and was 
 sheeted home without a sound. The mainsail gently ex 
 panded, scarcely shaking in the gentle night wind. In a 
 few minutes more the vessel swung lazily round as the tide 
 turned. The mate reported, in a low voice, that all was 
 
126 DABIEtf. 
 
 clear ; when the captain exclaimed, in the same suppressed 
 tone, 
 
 "Hold on! there's the green light at last. "We shall 
 have earned our money, after all," he muttered to himself; 
 " and we might fall in with many a booty worth less than 
 ten thousand crowns." 
 
 A small boat, with only two figures in it, now grated 
 against the ship's side : some countersign was given by one 
 of the men, and then his companion stepped on board. 
 "Without another word, the boat shot away into the dark 
 ness. The words " Let go " passed in a whisper along the 
 deck; and the brigantirie glided away thro ugh the dark 
 ness, apparently the only moving thing in all that crowded 
 port. 
 
 "When morning dawned, Alvaro found himself fairly at 
 sea ; and though still stunned by sorrow, he was conscious 
 of the strange sights and sounds about him. The captain 
 and his crew no longer preserved any disguise, and the 
 young man found himself among professed buccaneers, 
 notable members of the far-famed and dreaded Brethren of 
 the Coast. Deadly and immitigable foes to Spain, they had 
 dared to place themselves within her grasp. They had easily 
 baffled her indolent and ill-paid guarda-costas, and bribed the 
 corrupt officials of the port to allow them to refit and dis 
 pose of their cargo under the very guns of their most formi 
 dable fortress. There they had sold to Spanish merchants the 
 contents of their own ships, whose delay upon the seas they 
 never thought of attributing to the quiet-looking brigantine, 
 ill-managed even in harbour by four or five slovenly-looking 
 seamen. Scarcely, however, had the brigantine cleared 
 the harbour, when a large chassemaree started out from the 
 Santo Petri Eocks. It was crowded with men, who had 
 lain perdu on the coast of Barbary, while their comrades 
 were disposing of the booty at Cadiz. They " tumbled in," 
 as sailors say, on board their ship ; and each of them, as he 
 gained his footing on the deck, made a sort of obeisance to 
 the captain, who surveyed them with an eager searching 
 glance that appeared to see all that could be seen, and to 
 inquire for something more. Fifty fierce seamen, all armed 
 to the teeth, now swarmed on thte pirate's deck, with a 
 hum of many voices and many languages. Their captain 
 
DAEIEST. 127 
 
 had, before their arrival, descended into his cabin, in the un 
 pretending habit assumed by him at Cadiz. "When he reap 
 peared from below, not only in dress, but in aspect, he seemed 
 to be a new man. Haughty and commanding in his looks, 
 well appointed in his apparel, his very voice was changed. 
 He gave orders, brief, loud, and rapid, for casting the 
 vlmssemare'e adrift, for hoisting up the guns from the hold, 
 where they had been secretly stowed away, for bending 
 larger sails, and, in short, for transforming the whole con 
 dition and character of his ship. The crew obeyed with a 
 promptness and skill that proved their strict discipline and 
 long practice : not an unnecessary word was uttered, every 
 nerve was strained to duty, and Alvaro, the stranger, 
 remained utterly unnoticed until the merchantman was 
 changed into a dashing pirate. Then the captain gazed 
 round him, below and aloft, with complacency ; every sail 
 was trimmed to a nicety, every spar was in its place, every 
 thing superfluous was stowed away, the machine was per 
 fect in its kind, and admirably fitted for its deadly purpose. 
 
 And now the brave ship rushed away towards the far 
 west, with wonderful rapidity ; the watch was set ; the 
 business of the hour was concentrated on the helmsman, 
 who with anxious eye ancf steady hand guided his great 
 change along towards the invisible New World. The 
 sailors wiped the sweat from their swarthy brows, and 
 resumed their leathern doublets, thrown off in the heat of 
 work ; those who were not on duty then formed themselves 
 into groups upon the decks, smoking, or sleeping, or drink 
 ing ; dice began to rattle, songs and oaths were heard by 
 snatches, and a general relaxation was apparent, contrasting 
 curiously with the previous stern discipline. 
 
 Meanwhile, Alvaro lay reclined on the lofty poop, ob- 
 .serving with grave and watchful eye his new companions. 
 Bitter as was the sorrow that lay at his heart, he was 
 diverted from it almost in his own despite by the new scenes 
 in which he found himself, by the glorious element over 
 which he was bounding, and, above all, by the warm young 
 blood which ever beats responsively to nature's grand 
 emotions. 
 
 At this period, the extraordinary " Brotherhood of the 
 Sea," as they dubbed themselves the BTJCCANEEES as they 
 were called by trembling mariners were in the height of 
 
128 DABIEtf. 
 
 their evil fame and power. They had virtually possessed 
 themselves of all the waters and the beautiful islands that 
 bordered on the Spanish Main. They had even carried their 
 ravages into the Spanish territories on the continent of 
 America, and laid the wealthy cities of the isthmus under 
 contribution. Their exploits formed the whole history of 
 the region where they carried on their daring trade, and 
 were the frequent theme of romance in all the seaports of 
 the Old Continent. 
 
 Alvaro had heard something of these terrible rovers from 
 the contrabandists sailors of the Mesquinez ; their deeds of 
 valour and ferocity could scarcely be exaggerated even by 
 Spanish imagination, and the young wanderer now regarded 
 them with intense though fearless curiosity. 
 
 He was almost surprised to find them much like other 
 men in outward seeming. Instinct, indeed, told him that 
 the stern looks, which for the most part they wore, must 
 have been acquired in scenes that steel the heart and 
 banish smiles ; but many an honoured patriot looked as 
 grim. Almost every face was either pale with dissipation 
 or bloated with excess ; but the imagination of the inna- 
 cent youth referred such signs to the vigils and hardship 
 of those who strive with stormy seas. Their dress (for it 
 was Sunday, and fine weather) was strange, gay, and in 
 congruous ; silken and velvet doublets were worn over 
 coarsest shirts ; and gorgeous Indian shawls wrapped round 
 the waistbands of tarry trousers. Many wore massive golden 
 earrings, and large pearls, cornelians, or agates as buttons. 
 Every man was dressed according to his own fancy ; and 
 some of the buccaneers were as coarse and foul in garb as 
 the others were magnificent, while their long hair, matted 
 instead of being carefully curled, gave to them a wilder and 
 more desperate appearance. 
 
 Their captain seemed to be one of the youngest of the 
 company, but fierce passions and wild orgies had antici 
 pated the work of years ; his bright eyes were sunken and 
 his cheek was hollow ; and toil or exposure to weather had 
 dashed in some gray among his rich brown hair, and had 
 bronzed all his face except the high pale forehead, which 
 was marked with a fearful scar. His glance was piercing, 
 rapid, restless, and uncertain, except when now and then 
 his eyes were fixed on vacancy, and seemed to stare on some 
 
DAEIEtf. 129 
 
 abstraction until an approaching step startled him, or the 
 napping of a sail aroused his ready attention. He walked 
 the deck with a firm but unequal tread, apparently uncon 
 scious of the presence of his crew. His dress was perfectly 
 simple, and showed off to advantage his spare but powerful 
 form ; the only ornament he wore was a rich Indian scarf 
 tied round his waist, and in this were a brace of pistols 
 with which his fingers often dallied. 
 
 The attention of Alvaro became gradually concentrated 
 upon the young adventurer whose genius had been able to 
 assert supremacy over the desperate crew, lately his mates, 
 and now by their own act his slaves. Those who were not 
 on duty, indeed, paid him little attention except by keeping 
 carefully out of his beat ; but the men on watch, whenever 
 they approached to ask or to receive an order, did so with the 
 most profound respect. The man at the wheel performed his 
 monotonous duty as anxiously as if the ship was among 
 breakers ; and well he might, for the man whose place he 
 supplied was under the surgeon's hands ; his attention being 
 distracted for a moment, the ship had fallen off a point or 
 two, and in a moment the captain was by his side, when a 
 blow from his iron hand laid the helmsman quivering on 
 the deck with mouth and nostrils streaming blood : another 
 hand supplied his place instantly, and the captain resumed 
 his walk. 
 
 For some time, Alvaro had continued to follow the despotic 
 rover with his eyes, as if he was fascinated. The latter, 
 however, affected to be indifferent to his presence, though he 
 betrayed some involuntary sense of uneasiness at being so 
 closely watched. The young Moresco still kept his eye 
 fixed upon him, whilst his thoughts began to wander back 
 to the scenes he had so lately left : darker and darker they 
 became ; sorrow gave way to indignation, and indignation 
 to a fierce thirst for vengeance on those who had left him 
 lonely hi the world. His passion for revenge, long repressed, 
 now broke out with redoubled strength ; it became a very 
 madness, absorbing all other thought, and fear, and hope. 
 He saw around him the sworn foes of Spain, and he felt as 
 if destiny had repaid him for many sufferings by casting 
 him among such associates. He pictured to himself these 
 men, whose very repose reminded him of the crouching -of 
 a tiger. What terrible instruments they must be when let 
 
 I 
 
130 DABIEtf. 
 
 loose upon an enemy ! "What delight to see them bursting 
 in upon a Spaniard's deck ! 
 
 As these angry reflections passed over his expressive 
 countenance, the captain fixed his eyes upon him, and read 
 its meaning, but misapplied it to himself. Suddenly he 
 strode up to him, and with the fierce voice and aspect be 
 fore which the stoutest of his crew were wont to quail, he 
 demanded to know the stranger's thoughts. Alvaro, sus 
 tained by the intensity of his own excitement, rose slowly 
 from his recumbent posture, and fixed upon the buccaneer 
 a gaze as firm and almost us defiant as his own. 
 
 " By what right," said he, calmly, " do you presume to 
 interrogate me thus ? I am your passenger, and not your 
 prisoner." 
 
 "Sacre cochon de St. Antoine ! " exclaimed the captain, 
 " you will find but little difference if you choose to wear 
 that hang-dog, mutinous look before me. What if yon 
 infidel dog paid your passage handsomely, which I don't 
 deny, he did not bargain that you were to cast the evil 
 eye upon my ship's company, or comport yourself as if you 
 were in the presence of the black devil himself. Let me 
 tell you that you are the first Spaniard who ever trod this 
 deck and lived. If you wish for other treatment, you must 
 put off your countrymen's ill-omened scowl, and try to look 
 like an honest man." 
 
 Alvaro indignantly denied the countrymen imputed to 
 him, and the captain's brow cleared at once with a look of 
 inquiry. 
 
 " I was thinking of my debt to Spain at the moment you 
 spoke," continued the young Moresco ; " they have be 
 trayed and tortured and slain my father, my mother, and 
 my only friend. They have persecuted to the death, and 
 almost exterminated, the Moorish race whose blood I own. 
 Give me but a chance of vengeance on these Spaniards, and 
 if any man amongst you robs me of it, then spurn me as a 
 tame and soulless slave ! " 
 
 As he spoke, his eyes flashed and his form dilated ; the 
 captain's dislike, suddenly converted into admiration, ex 
 pressed itself in the kindest greeting ; his coarse and dis 
 dainful manner changed into one of frank courtesy ; and lie 
 expressed hearty pleasure in having such an acquisition to 
 his ship's company. He then drew Alvaro into conversa- 
 
DABIEtf. 131 
 
 tion, displaying on his own part a tact and wit that charmed 
 the inexperienced youth. He first allowed the Moresco to 
 pour out his wrongs and sorrows, and then gradually turned 
 his thoughts into a new channel ; described himself as a 
 sort of naval knight-errant, devoted to redressing all wrongs 
 that the Spanish people had inflicted, and descanted elo 
 quently on the glories of his profession. 
 
 " Ours is a life," he continued, " in which all the old 
 laws of the world are falsified, and in which romance he- 
 comes true. Ours are all the joys that earth can give, in 
 tensified by having won not bought or begged them. The 
 fairest regions of the globe are the scene of our adventures. 
 "We roam from isle to isle as the chase of our game invites 
 us ; and, like Nimrod, our game is man the Spanish man, 
 who has made a hell of the Indian paradise." 
 
 The captain paused, having gone thus far, and left his 
 words and the attractions of a sea life to work their own 
 impressions. He desired anxiously to make a recruit of 
 the fiery young Moresco, but he thought it better not to 
 propose it to him as yet. After making his guest welcome 
 to his cabin he retired, and left him to his own reflections. 
 
 The reader will probably have recognised in this eccen 
 tric buccaneer the Captain Lawrence of Sandilee. 
 
 Lawrence had run the Bonito directly from the Solway to 
 Dunkirk, where he had sold her without scruple, and his 
 reputation had easily procured for him the command of a 
 more powerful vessel and a numerous crew. With this 
 equipment he had sailed for the Spanish Main ; but hav 
 ing fallen in with a prize near Cadiz, he had been tempted 
 to send her, with the greater part of his crew, to Barbary, 
 to be sold or broken up ; whilst he, disguising his own bri- 
 gantine, boldly entered the port of Cadiz, and there traded 
 with the merchants for their own goods. 
 
 The first night at sea, when the weather was fine, was 
 always celebrated by the buccaneers as a festival. At sun 
 set, one of their number came aft to invite Alvaro to join 
 them, but he received a refusal without offence. The wild 
 crew respected the stranger whom their captain chose to 
 honour, and they left him to such retirement as such a ship 
 could afford. To his surprise and pleasure he soon heard 
 the sounds of skilful music, and as the ship lay tranquilly 
 on the quiet sea, it was delightful to hear the sonorous 
 
 I 2 
 
132 DAKIEtf. 
 
 sounds of trumpets and violins spreading softly over the 
 water. It was one of the fierce captain's singularities to 
 which we have before alluded, that love of music ; and it 
 was not the only taste he carried with him from a former 
 life of refinement to his present outlawed condition. But 
 the music did not last long ; it soon gave way to less har 
 monious sounds, jovial songs, loud laughter, and wild jests. 
 
 How strange to Alvaro ! how strange to him in his soli 
 tude and his sorrow, appeared the bacchanalian revelry that 
 began to rage below ! The sea in all its solemnity was 
 spread around, heaving slowly, as if its great heart were 
 palpitating with the deep and quiet pleasure of that glorious 
 summer night. Above, the sky in sublime serenity was 
 flooded with angelic light, like a visible heaven arching over 
 this poor harassed world, a final and blessed asylum for 
 those who have finished their life's long task. The ship 
 herself, in her calm and swift progress over the lonely and 
 fathomless floods, was in harmony with the scene. Her 
 pure white sails, and tall tapering masts, and the whole 
 contour of her graceful form, made her look like a beautiful 
 and meet inhabitant of the element that was her home. 
 
 And yet, from the very heart of her arose through the 
 blessed evening air, such sounds of oaths and ribald songs, 
 and angry altercation, and still more hideous mirth, as 
 might have belonged to hell. So passed the first evening 
 that Alvaro spent among his fellow men at sea. 
 
 The ship steered south to fall in with the trade winds that 
 tend to cool the tropics ; and day by day she seemed to 
 enter into a more delicious climate. Even the sorrow of 
 Alvaro became softer under the powerful influence of a 
 pure and constant summer air, and the soothing monotony 
 of a life at sea. He had youth, too, on the side of his re 
 signation, and the consciousness, ever strong in the Oriental 
 mind, that the past was irremediable. The world, and it 
 alone, was before him. He had the proud conviction of 
 all-mastering talent to cope single-handed with every difii- 
 culty, and to wrest from it its prizes such prizes as it had 
 to bestow. Above all, he had for his nearest object revenge 
 upon the Spaniards. He had never dreamt of its crimina 
 lity ; he knew not the god-like pleasure of forgiveness ; he 
 perceived in vengeance only a high duty, too much in ac 
 cordance with the instinct of his burning heart. 
 
DABIEtf. 133 
 
 As time sped on, he became more alive to the multifari 
 ous, though evanescent interests of the ship. He set him 
 self diligently to learn the duties and discipline, and some 
 what of the art, of naval life. He was conscious, too, that 
 he had much to learn in that most puzzling book of human 
 nature, from which he had been so long secluded ; and 
 every man on board became a subject for him to study. 
 Naturally, and by habit, reserved, he was obliged to exert 
 some force of will in order to expand himself, and to find 
 objects of common interest \vith such associates . He tried, 
 however, and succeeded. The inner citadel of his feelings 
 was always well guarded and unapproachable ; but on all 
 outlying topics he soon became open and communicative, 
 giving and receiving such knowledge as he might. His 
 first questions naturally related to the order to which his 
 new comrades belonged, and one sultry forenoon, as they 
 lay beneath the awning with their pipes, he learned all 
 that was to be said in favour of the wild BBOTHEEHOOD oy 
 THE SEAS. Their story is now fading fast from men's me 
 mories, yet they performed important functions in their 
 time. They were the rude pioneers of independent com 
 merce in the remote "Western seas. They made the world 
 acquainted with the intricate navigation of their rich and 
 beautiful but most dangerous islands, and they vindicated 
 for the world at large a right to those regions which the 
 Spaniards, having first reduced to unheard-of misery, after 
 wards attempted to monopolise. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 Oh, they are wild and wanton men, such as the best will be, 
 Who know no other gifts of God, but to be bold and free; 
 Who never saw how States are bound in golden bonds of law ; 
 Who never knew how strongest hearts are bent by holy awe. 
 
 MILNES. 
 
 THE greatest genius combined with the greatest daring that 
 ever centred in the mind of man was exhibited in the mag 
 nificent enterprise of Columbus ; it was crowned with such 
 success as none before or after him can rival, and rewarded 
 
DAEIEtf. 
 
 by the revelation of a new world : a world of such beauty 
 and rare endowments as might now appear a tradition of 
 paradise, if the first discovery had not been so fatally fol 
 lowed up. The far-famed visionary " Islands of the Blest " 
 seemed to have lain there, among the crystal waters of those 
 unknown seas, happy from all eternity. The gentle, loving, 
 reverential islanders, whose wants were all abundantly, yet 
 without labour, supplied by their waters and their woods, 
 were fit inhabitants for such a region. If, among their 
 many people, were found some fierce and cruel Caribs, the 
 contrast formed but a necessary shade to render the too- 
 bright picture human, and to qualify the serene existence of 
 the western islanders with a salutary dread. They seem to 
 have known no other. Cold, and hunger, and nakedness, 
 had for them no more terrors than in paradise ; glowing 
 sunshine or mellow night were always theirs : the richest 
 fruits hung around them, fishes of all shape and hue 
 swarmed in their waters ; and for raiment, to use an eastern 
 expression, "they were clothed with sunbeams." 
 
 The weather-beaten mariners of Spain, one and all, were 
 astonished and fascinated by these islanders and their deli 
 cious country. Instead of the rewards and unprecedented 
 glory that awaited them in Europe, they implored, as their 
 best reward, to be left in the new-found land. It seemed 
 to them as if they had attained to the Blessed Island, so 
 long sought after; where Roderick and Sebastian, nay, 
 Enoch, Elijah, and Melchisedec had long been secluded in 
 blessedness from mortal gaze. 
 
 If the triumph allotted to Columbus was beyond what 
 any other man has known, so was the sorrow and disap 
 pointment. Perhaps it was necessary that his noble soul 
 should be purified by trial before it could attain to, or 
 return to the humility essential to its health. Every aspi 
 ration in which the great discoverer indulged, was defeated 
 and trampled on. Thrice he returned in disgrace, and once 
 in chains, from the New World that he had rescued from 
 its obscurity among the distant seas. The island that he 
 loved with especial fondness, its people whom he had so 
 cherished, alike were defaced and destroyed by ruffian vio 
 lence. The exquisite beauty of Hispauiola, on which he 
 had gazed with such delight, was converted into a scene of 
 ruin and desolation; the generous and gentle caciques, 
 
DAEIEN. 135 
 
 whom lie had made his friends, were robbed and butchered ; 
 the women who had welcomed him as a supernatural being, 
 were outraged and degraded by the refuse of Spanish pri 
 sons. He himself died in poverty, humiliation, and neg 
 lect a vain suitor for the government of the glorious 
 regions that he had won. 
 
 All history abounds with records of cruelty and wrong ; 
 but that of Spanish America is terribly conspicuous above 
 all other in barbarity and crime. The most damning testi 
 mony against them is furnished by their own writers ; in 
 the complaints of the virtuous Las Casas, the confessions of 
 Cortes, the apologies of Herrera, and the summing up of 
 Prescott, we have a list of the deepest atrocities that were 
 ever perpetrated under the sanction of a king. 
 
 Nevertheless, there was something chivalrous too, in the 
 ferocity of the conquerors of the Indians. Though, in some 
 cases, their victims succumbed beneath their destiny with 
 out a struggle, in others they fought with a desperation 
 worthy of their cause. Their numbers, too, appeared over 
 whelming : their climate was a formidable ally ; the white 
 men were enervated by licentiousness and reduced by 
 famine, yet still the white men triumphed. Mere handfuls 
 of daring Spaniards overthrew ancient dynasties, put mon- 
 archs to the sword, and enslaved whole nations. They 
 subdued the very soil itself, forced it to bear a foreign vege 
 tation, to feed strange animals, and to produce perforce 
 the crops prescribed to it, instead of the wild fruits that 
 were wont to grow at their own pleasure, as nature planted 
 them. By the same strong wills, the seas were rifled to 
 yield up their pearls, the mountains their gold, and the 
 forests their proudest trees. 
 
 But the price that the Spaniards paid for all these 
 triumphs was a fearful one. Hundreds of them perished 
 miserably by pestilence, or poisoned arrows, or the most 
 loathsome of diseases for one who prospered; if an un 
 bridled range and power of sensual indulgence could be 
 deemed prosperity. By such means and such men, the 
 maritime cities of Central America were built and peopled. 
 It was long before the increase of their white population 
 exceeded its mortality; but at length the Spaniards tri- 
 timphed in this matter likewise; and as the red man 
 withered away, the invader spread wide his borders. Ma- 
 
136 DABIEN. 
 
 racaibo, Cartagena, Vera Cruz, and other towns arose. 
 Commerce obtained a firm footing, and the gold countries 
 beyond the Isthmus were brought into close relationship 
 with Europe. Wealth accumulated rapidly, and the gal 
 leons and flotas, in their annual visit, found still increasing 
 abundance of all luxuries to exchange for European neces 
 sities of life. Precious woods and gums and balsams, with 
 great pearls and massive silver, and the arch-treasure, gold, 
 were poured in upon the Spanish decks. 
 
 The eyes of all speculators were soon turned towards 
 those wondrous shores. All ranks and classes of men, from 
 the pompous hidalgo to the meek missionary, turned long 
 ing eyes towards the new land of promise. In vain they 
 were told of its dangers, its fatality, its Indians, its pesti 
 lences, and its buccaneers, the deadliest scourge of all. 
 Danger and difficulty are only stimulants to the classes of 
 which such emigrants are composed. Spain was full of 
 ardent and restless spirits whom the Moorish wars had 
 evoked, trained to the use of arms, and by their cessation 
 rendered idle and desperate. What the Californian enthu 
 siasm is now, all Central America, through it's traditions, 
 was then. The New World became stocked with adven 
 turers, who soon became wealthy, or else they perished. 
 
 As wealth began to accumulate, desperadoes came to 
 prey upon its possessors. The buccaneers were seen buz 
 zing like wasps around the hives of the Spanish merchants. 
 The chances against the fair trader became fearful. Scarcely 
 so many chartered ships escaped to discharge their cargoes, 
 as smugglers now get through the cordon of our cruisers. 
 The gains, however, when successful, were so enormous as 
 to induce seamen to run these risks, and such seamen 
 became proportionably adventurous and reckless. The 
 change to buccaneering was simple and frequent, and 
 those highwaymen of the seas grew into a formidable 
 power. 
 
 Eomantic stories of all these things were constantly 
 brought to Europe, and soon excited a spirit of adventure 
 in Prance and the British Islands, as well as throughout 
 Spain. There was a strong jealousy on the part of the 
 English, the Dutch, and the Prench, against the great 
 power which had arrogated to itself the monopoly of the 
 golden regions of the west. This jeajousy plausibly ex- 
 
DAEIEN. 137 
 
 pressed itself in indignation against Spanish cruelty, 
 [Spanish bigotry, and Spanish ambition. Thus chivalry, 
 religion, and patriotism were all evoked against the haughty 
 nation that had converted the paradise of its new dis 
 coveries into a hell of crime, cruelty, and oppression. 
 
 Hence, whatever the condition, whether peaceable or 
 hostile, of Spain with respect to European nations, they all 
 considered her American possessions as a fair field for pre 
 datory warfare. But the buccaneers were by far the most 
 formidable enemies ; they were always on the spot, they 
 were amphibious in martial exploits ; enterprising on the 
 land, skilful on the sea, and desperately daring everywhere. 
 They combined all the cunning of the Indian with the 
 strength and hardihood of the most manful European races. 
 They were insatiably avaricious and utterly remorseless. 
 
 It is curious to trace the origin of these men, or rather 
 of this people, in whom human nature seems to have run 
 wild. 
 
 Spanish cruelty and lust of gold had rendered the lovely 
 islands of Hispaniola almost a waste. Out of a happy popu 
 lation of 80,000 or 100,000 Indians whom Columbus found 
 there, not above 400 remained at the end of the first cen 
 tury of Spanish rule to curse their name. As man faded 
 from the land, wild animals increased. The early dis 
 coverers and first settlers had introduced cattle and swine, 
 and these creatures now multiplied rapidly, covering the 
 green savannahs with herds, and filling the forests with wild 
 boars. Towards the end of the sixteenth century, His 
 paniola and the adjacent islands became yet further neg 
 lected, as the Spaniards turned their attention and their 
 strength towards the Continent. Then ships of various 
 nations began to touch at the Western Islands for wood 
 and water. Sometimes their men deserted into the interior, 
 sometimes mutineers were abandoned as a punishment. 
 They soon found little reason to regret their fate. Their 
 predecessors had learned from the Indians how to hunt 
 down and dress the game in which the isles abounded. 
 Prom time to time a European ship would appear and ex 
 change the two grand necessaries of their isolated lives 
 brandy and gunpowder for salted meat, wild honey, and 
 cassava bread. At length the islanders became strong 
 enough to attract the attention of the Spaniards, who 
 
138 DAEIE2T. 
 
 attempted to dislodge them. The buccaneers came off tt$ 
 conquerors, and soon attempted reprisals, which likewise 
 were successful. Finally, the Spaniards, wearied with the 
 ceaseless and deadly strife, retired altogether from the 
 western and north-western portions of Hispaniola, and 
 formed new settlements or increased their old ones on the 
 continent. Even thither, however, the buccaneers, grown 
 bolder by impunity, pursued them. Every nation that 
 entered into hostilities with European Spain, encouraged 
 the indomitable enemy of her colonies, and thus gave a sort 
 of dignity to their warfare. From Drake to Prince Eupert, 
 the English especially emulated and imitated the "Brethren 
 of the Sea," in plundering expeditions against the American 
 Spaniards. Nevertheless, such was the vast wealth ex 
 tracted by the Spaniards from their possessions on Tierra 
 Firma, that they still flourished; and were able to offer 
 every year fresh and stronger temptations to their spoilers. 
 About the middle of the seventeenth century, the latter 
 made another step in advance, by taking possession of the 
 little island of Tortuga ; and then for the first time begun 
 to be called Buccaneers by the English, and Flibustiers (a 
 corruption of freebooter) by the French. The origin of 
 these names will appear in the course of our tale. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 The soul oppress'd puts off its robe of Fear, 
 And warlike stands, in warlike armour (lighted ; 
 And whensoe'er the Wrong'd would be the Righted, 
 There always have been, always must be minds 
 In whom the Power and Will are found united. 
 
 Child of the Islands. 
 
 SUCH was the condition of the Spanish Main when Alvaro 
 was approaching it. Gradually his mind had assumed some 
 thing of the character of his associates, or rather his passion 
 for revenge had been led into the same channel. The more 
 he brooded on his wrongs, the more he became convinced 
 that fate had placed him among the enemies of Spain in 
 order to indulge his passion. His imagination was wrought 
 
DAEIEK. 139 
 
 upon by the stories of the great buccaneers, who had be 
 come famous on those seas. Of the terrible Montbara, who, 
 nerved to vengeance by the Indians' wrongs alone, had 
 acquired the epithet of the " Exterminator," before he 
 reached the age of twenty ; of Pierre le Grand, who, with 
 a mere fishing-boat, had fought and captured one of the 
 wealthiest galleons of Spain, and returned to Europe 
 enriched for life ; of Alexander of the Iron Arm ; of the 
 subtle Bock ; of the ferocious L'Olonois; and many other 
 heroes of the Spanish Main, of whom the hardy buccaneers 
 spoke with respect and admiration. 
 
 Alvaro was at that age when the passions most easily 
 take fire from the enthusiasm of others, and has least sense 
 of what lies beyond the present hour, ambushed in the fu 
 ture. Secluded as he had hitherto been from all sources of 
 excitement, his whole suppressed youth and boyhood seemed 
 to burst forth at once. A thirst for action, intensified by 
 vengeance, became hourly more stimulating to his fiery 
 Moorish blood. In his eagerness to meet an enemy, he 
 could scarcely rest. He would watch the horizon for hours, 
 with straining eyes, and then resume his hurried walk along 
 the deck, with downcast looks, and firm-set teeth, as if 
 endeavouring to repress the passion which devoured him. 
 At length one morning, just after dawn, a cry of joy broke 
 from him. He beheld a sail, and it was such a one as a 
 thousand questions had taught him to expect and long for. 
 She approached rapidly, and her lofty spars and taut rig 
 ging soon announced her as a man-of-war. The excitement 
 amongst the crew of the buccaneer became intense, as a 
 black ball was run up to her mast-head, and the next 
 moment a broad bunting, of crimson and yellow, spread 
 widely on the breeze. A cheer of triumphant defiance 
 welcomed the well-known signal of a Spanish galleon. 
 Instant preparations were made for action on board the 
 buccaneer ; the guns were loaded and double shotted, with 
 a celerity which proved long-practised skill in the business 
 of death. The lofty and lighter sails were taken in, every 
 impediment along the decks was carefully removed; and all 
 this was done with a zeal and despatch which showed that 
 every man's heart was in his work. Alvaro, otherwise 
 unoccupied, patrolled the deck with rapid and impatient 
 steps ; but when the enemy opened her fire, and her shot 
 
140 DARIEtf. 
 
 began to tell, the captain ordered every man but the helms 
 man to go below. Alvaro complied, however, reluctantly, 
 for the buccaneer's discipline was too stern to allow a 
 moment's hesitation. He diverted his own suspense by 
 observing how that of his comrades acted on their several 
 natures : some drank brandy, though, for once, in modera 
 tion; some chewed gunpowder, and some even betook them 
 selves to prayer ; but none made any comment upon their 
 neighbour's conduct, nor had they much time to do so. A 
 blast of the captain's bugle made them rush on deck, and 
 in an instant every man was at his gun. The captain 
 sprang to the tiUer, unexpectedly put his helm down, and 
 ran athwart the bows of his enemy : by the same manoeuvre 
 the ship's topsails were taken aback, and she lost way. 
 The Spaniard had also taken in sail, and came on but 
 slowly, but still had way enough to run foul of his op 
 ponent; his bowsprit crashed in between the buccaneer's 
 masts, and remained fixed there; just before the ships 
 joined, Lawrence poured in his broadside, raking the galleon 
 lore and aft, and causing dismal confusion. The next mo 
 ment the buccaneers rushed in by the bows of the galleon, 
 which in those days were low and unprotected. When the 
 word to board was given, Alvaro was the first to spring into 
 the Spaniard's ship, frantic with excitement and deadly 
 wrath : such leading never lacks willing followers ; as fast 
 as they could trample over the dead and dying, the invaders 
 swept the Spaniard's deck. The captain of the buccaneer 
 quickly led on a reinforcement, battened down the hatches, 
 -and almost in less time than it takes to tell, the Spanish 
 ship was won! But the carnage did not cease, for the buc 
 caneers gave no quarter, and the Spaniards asked it not : 
 each man fighting with desperation until he died. 
 
 By slow degrees, at last the infernal clamour ceased ; 
 shrieks of agony and shouts of triumph, and parting 
 prayers, and angry oaths were hushed. Out of ninety 
 stalwart men who, but an hour before, had moved in life, 
 and strength, and hope, nothing now remained except their 
 blood upon the deck, which they had defended to the last. 
 Their mangled corses were flung into the sea, and their 
 ship was as thoroughly clear of them as if they never had 
 existed. 
 
 Then the buccaneers fell to pillage with wonderful in- 
 
DAEIEN. 141 
 
 genuity and despatch ; shouts of exultation from time to 
 time announcing that some rich and rare discovery was 
 made. The spoil proved to be magnificent : not only was 
 the hold of the galleon filled with the richest silks of India, 
 and velvets of Italy, and barrels of rare incense, but many 
 iron chests were found, secured with bars and bolts, and 
 filled with gold ingots and diamonds of immense value. 
 
 The prize was a very treasury of wealth and luxury ; her 
 arrival would have been welcomed with sensation in the 
 richest city of the world. But now, all belonged to a set 
 of homeless desperadoes, who rioted with fierce glee on the 
 produce of laborious art and honest industry. 
 
 Alvaro alone stood aloof from the pillage. Not only 
 did his vengeance seem as if it would be tainted by 
 touching blood-money, but a reaction was already at work 
 within his nobler nature. As long as the maddening ex 
 citement of the strife had lasted, he was as unsparing as 
 any buccaneer. Not only the memory of his desolated 
 home and his murdered parents filled his brain and steeled 
 his heart, bat visions of hospitable caciques roasted alive 
 by the Spaniard for cursed gold ; women impaled on the 
 same spears with their nursling infants, whole villages of 
 generous and trusting Indians treacherously destroyed,- 
 all these thoughts swarmed in his mind, and seemed to 
 him to render vengeance righteous. But when resistance 
 ceased, he could no longer strike : battle became suddenly 
 changed to murder, and he had eagerly striven to arrest its 
 course. In vain ; he became himself an object of attack, and 
 had enough to do to defend his own life. One Indian alone he 
 had rescued from death; and, with this poor creature 
 cowering at his feet, he now stood aloof, with folded arms, 
 scornfully contemplating the work of pillage. It was ac 
 complished in a wondrously short time, and all the treasure 
 was piled up along the deck in rich confusion. The divi 
 sion of the booty, according to custom, took place upon 
 the spot, for the captor and her prize were about to sepa 
 rate. A hundred lots were ingeniously made by the cap 
 tain and the ship's clerk : they were as evenly adjusted as 
 possible, since the rejected shares fell to the lot of those 
 who had arranged them. The captain had ten shares 
 the officers five, four, and two, according to their rank ; the 
 common seamen had only one share each, but the wounded 
 
142 DABIEST. 
 
 had additional shares according to the severity of their 
 wounds : a lost leg was repaid with ten shares, an arm with 
 six, a hand with two, and so on. In an hour all was done, 
 and the different properties disappeared in detail as rapidly 
 as they had been procured collectively. 
 
 Then arose a stormy discussion as to whether they 
 should continue their cruise or proceed at once to the ge 
 neral rendezvous at Tortuga. The argument waxed warm ; 
 and at length it was decided that the captain, who, for 
 reasons of his own, desired to reach Tortuga, should pro 
 ceed thither with the prize. The brigantine, under the 
 chief mate, was to continue her cruise, and Alvaro decided 
 to continue on board of her. All this discussion had been 
 carried on with the most democratic freedom of debate ; 
 but the moment it was ended, the captain resumed despotic 
 and unquestioned authority. With the same rapidity and 
 energy that characterized all their movements, the ships 
 were cast off and towed apart, the weather being still 
 quite calm. The damages on board of each vessel were 
 repaired ; the decks were cleansed from all stains of gore ; 
 the wounded were carefully tended ; and, before the sun 
 went down, the ships separated, and slowly stood away in 
 different directions. 
 
 The sails being trimmed, and the watch set, the buc 
 caneers on board the brigantine began a fierce carouse. But 
 first, to the astonishment of Alvaro, they knelt upon the 
 deck with uncovered heads, and offered up what seemed a 
 fervent prayer of thanksgiving, and ended by entreating the 
 blessing of Heaven on their future cruise ! 
 
 Once more Alvaro resumed his accustomed isolated posi 
 tion on the poop, gazing on the star-spangled sea, which 
 he was never weary of beholding, so deeply did it har 
 monize with the vague, unbounded aspirations that filled 
 his yearning soul. But now a change had come over him. 
 He had drunk deeply of revenge, and he sickened of its 
 fearful satiety. The lofty pursuits to which his young 
 mind had been accustomed ; the noble study of the sciences 
 which are inseparably connected with philanthropy ; the 
 dreams of a happier, holier world, and his hope to be in 
 strumental in the welfare of humanity ; all these thoughts 
 came back upon him with redoubled force in the silence 
 and beauty of that glorious night. In the fervour of the 
 
BABIED. 143 
 
 new resolutions that followed on Ms meditation, he seized 
 his sword to lling it in the sea ; but it stuck in the scabbard 
 glued there by the Spaniards' blood. The Indian whose 
 life he had preserved, alarmed at the movement, attempted 
 to creep away ; and that trifling circumstance recalled to 
 him other considerations. 
 
 " Best there, then," he exclaimed, as he unhanded the 
 hilt ; " this poor creature and I may yet require thee for 
 self-defence ; but if ever thou art drawn again for a baser 
 cause, may the arm that wields thee wither!" 
 
 Having partly satisfied his conscience with this vow, he 
 called to the Indian with a voice of gentleness that as 
 tonished the poor slave : he gave him some of his own re 
 freshment, which had lain by him almost untasted; and 
 having assured him of protection, he resigned himself to 
 sleep in a quieter mood than he had known since the 
 fatal evening on which he sailed from the old palace of 
 the Ketiro. 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 High o'er their heads the rolling billows sweep, 
 And down they sink in everlasting sleep ! 
 
 FALCONEK. 
 
 PKOFOUND silence now settled over the Bonne Esperance 
 and all her desperate crew. The stern vigilance of Law 
 rence had given place to the licence claimed at first from 
 a new-made captain. The watch having drunk almost as 
 deeply as their comrades, were all asleep at their various 
 posts. Even the helmsman nodded at the wheel, only 
 startled now and then into wakefulness as the neglected 
 ship came up to the wind and her sails were shaken. But 
 the wind soon died away : the very heavens seemed to be 
 asleep and the stars to twinkle drowsily. A vast dark 
 curtain of clouds rose slowly up the northern sky, and 
 soon, but imperceptibly, wrapped the ocean in a double 
 night. Still, the drunken freebooters slept on; it might 
 have seemed a ship of death, with a black and universal 
 pall spread over it. The white sails towered up into the 
 darkness like gigantic ghosts, and ever and anon small 
 
144 DAEIEN. 
 
 tongues of lambent flame would hover, spirit-like, over the 
 mast-head. The sea began to heave and swell portentously, 
 with a long and measured motion, that lulled the sleepers 
 into a yet deeper slumber, and all the while a strong cur 
 rent bore the ship swiftly and helplessly along, as in a dream. 
 
 Suddenly, the wild storm of the tropics awoke and burst 
 upon the world of waters with terrific uproar. Thunder 
 shook the heavens with prolonged roar, and sheets of light 
 ning wrapped the gleaming sea in one wide flame : the waves 
 were roused instantly to fury ; but, ever as they rose, their 
 crests were whirled away by the tornado, and scattered into 
 clouds of spray. 
 
 The best-prepared ship could scarcely have endured that 
 fierce and sudden storm : but the brigantine had every sail 
 set to the previous gentle breeze, and every hand that should 
 have helped her was relaxed in sleep, As the hurricane 
 assailed her, she was struck down on her beam-ends : the 
 sea rolled over her in all its force : the decks had been strewn 
 with the drunken revellers, who were now helplessly drowned 
 as they lay ; even the watch were only wakened by the wave 
 that carried them away into the raging waters. Almost 
 instantly all was over ; and but two living creatures inter 
 rupted the sublime loneliness of the stormy sea. 
 
 Alvaro, like the rest of the ship's crew, had been asleep ; 
 his dreams haunted by the loud brutal songs and impious jests 
 of the pirates. Suddenly, in his dream, it seemed to him as if 
 those shouts of revelry were changed to shrieks, and at the 
 same moment that he had become, he knew not how, 
 involved in their orgies. He seemed to reel and stagger, and 
 the bowl of wine that they had been sitting round, seemed to 
 gush up like a great fountain, and pour down upon him and 
 all the revellers, washing them away in its red torrents: 
 startled by the sudden sense of drowning, he awoke to find 
 himself in the angry sea, with wreck and ruin and destruc 
 tion all around. Too paralysed to swim, he almost aban 
 doned himself to death ; but at the same moment he felt 
 himself seized by a vigorous grasp, and dragged through the 
 seething waters, within reach of a floating spar. There, 
 clinging desperately, but still blinded and half-smothered by 
 the waves, he felt gradually propelled onwards, until a com 
 parative lull allowed him to look round. He was under the 
 lee of the wrecked ship, whose masts had been snapped 
 asunder like twigs, and were floating alongside her in a con- 
 
DAEIEN. ' 145 
 
 fused and tangled mass. "With incredible vigour and address, 
 the Indian steered the spar between the ship's hull and her 
 floating masts, and then, having made it fast to the former, 
 he relaxed his efforts and looked round him with an air of 
 triumph. To him the water was as natural an element as 
 the land; to him, those who had perished were so many 
 enemies destroyed : his preserver alone remained alive, but 
 the order of obligation was reversed; he was now the 
 patron the deliverer of his deliverer; and that proud 
 consciousness swelled his broad breast with manly triumph. 
 And yet all this time he and Alvaro were holding on for 
 their lives under the lee of the wreck, while the storm still 
 shrieked over and around them. The waves, risen to moun 
 tain height, now threaten to roll the sheltering hull right 
 over, and now to jam them against the mass of tangled 
 masts and rigging which floated only a few spars to leeward. 
 Suddenly, some shrouds from above parted, and the ship 
 righted so violently, as to snap the line that held their spar, 
 and the next moment they were drifted to the timbers that 
 formed a sort of rude and struggling raft. But now Alvaro 
 had recovered his strength and presence of mind, and having 
 divested himself of his cumbrous clothes, he made almost as 
 good use of his opportunities as the Indian. They soon 
 struggled along the shrouds that still attached the floating 
 spars to the ship's lee-chains, and then they found them 
 selves on board and sole masters of the ship. Dismembered 
 of her spars, and buoyant as a cork, she rode the waves 
 gallantly, and the sea-beaten survivors felt themselves in 
 comparative safety. 
 
 Daylight soon burst forth from the stormy east with 
 tropical suddenness, and Alvaro could not, in all his misery, 
 but admire the splendour of the scene. The tornado was 
 already subsiding, and the waves assumed a purple hue, here 
 and there dashed in with gold colour from the dawning sun 
 shine, and flecked with the silvery foam that still sparkled on 
 each creaking wave. Ten thousand scattered clouds, like 
 spirits of the storm, bespread the blue field of sky with their 
 broken battalions in tumultuous but gorgeous confusion, as 
 they fled away before the dawn. 
 
 But the exigency of the moment soon diverted the 
 attention of Alvaro to other objects. The ship's deck had 
 been washed clear of every moveable. Nothing but stumps 
 
 K 
 
146 DAKIEtf. 
 
 of the masts remained : even the wheel was gone overboard, 
 although held on to the ship by one of the tiller-ropes, in 
 which the drowned helmsman was tangled and still seemed 
 to struggle jn the vexed waters. No other remnant of the 
 crew was to be seen : the wounded in the late action had all 
 gone to the rendezvous in the prize, and every man who 
 could rattle a dice-box, or raise a goblet to his lips, had been 
 on deck where he had fallen asleep when the revel ended. 
 
 Alvaro was, therefore, the sole owner of that wealthy ship, 
 which he would then gladly have exchanged for the meanest 
 galley out of Spain. But he soon roused himself, to make 
 the best of his situation. With great labour he and the 
 Indian contrived to get a top-gallant mast and sail on board, 
 with such cordage as they thought might be most necessary. 
 They then cut away the masts and rigging which encum 
 bered and endangered the ship's side. Their top-gallant 
 sail was soon rigged on its jury-mast ; a long tiller was fitted 
 to the rudder ; the breeze came fresh and strong from the 
 eastward, and Alvaro had soon the happiness of finding him 
 self once more borne steadily along the waters. 
 
 The delight of the Indian knew no bounds ; and when 
 Alvaro called him his preserver, and declared him free, he 
 danced wildly about the deck, shouting and singing, and mak 
 ing such extravagant demonstrations of delight, that Alvaro 
 was obliged to reassume all his authority, in order to re 
 strain him. 
 
 The day passed swiftly by each hour becoming brighter, 
 and the air more redolent of the delicious climate they had 
 run into. The wind blew steadily. Provisions of all sorts 
 abounded in profusion, and Andreas (as the Indian called 
 himself) declared that he only wished his present life to 
 last for ever. By the time night came, he had learned to 
 steer with intuitive quickness, and he and his patron relieved 
 each other henceforth every two hours. 
 
 The next morning they saw land under their lee ; but it 
 was only the little island of Anegada ; and Alvaro deter 
 mined to hold on for the Island of Haiti, if not for Hispa- 
 niola. Many of the lesser islands were reported to be 
 inhabited by Caribs ; and the appearance of a lonely Spa 
 niard, or indeed of any white man, would have been the 
 signal for his slaughter. 
 
 Three days were thus passed, when Alvaro saw with 
 
DARIEtf. 147 
 
 delight the blue peaks of mountains rising above the watery 
 horizon. He steered for them as directly as he could with 
 a single sail, and bythe following morning he found himself 
 only a few miles from one of the loveliest islands in the world. 
 
 A balmly breeze wafted him over waters of the most 
 crystal clearness. Many a fathom down he could perceive 
 the rich landscape of the sea, enlivened with myriads of 
 strange fishes glancing to and fro among the coral cliffs, and 
 feathery foliage, and broad waving leaves of gigantic sea 
 weed. Here and there, breadths of golden sand intervened, 
 with huge shells of all lovely colours gleaming in the watery 
 light. But this paradise of fishes seemed like all others, to 
 have its demons too ; for now and then the huge shadowy 
 form of a shark would glide athwart the subaqueous scenery, 
 and the hideous cat-fish, with its great quivering spiky fins, 
 would steal from a coral cave, and disperse some glittering 
 shoal in all directions, or a mantle-fish spread its white, 
 black, bat-like fins, and clasp a captive to its stomach-mouth. 
 But all these events only increased the interest with which 
 the young stranger gazed on the watery world, for the first 
 time laid open to his view. 
 
 Nor could he long allow his tranced attention to rest 
 upon the scenes below. He had to choose his home in the 
 magnificent island before him, and where he first touched 
 he must remain : but so great was the beauty and the rich 
 ness of all the country that he saw, that he scarcely cared 
 where his lot might be cast. He left his ship to take her 
 chance, and she drove on gently towards the land, while 
 her careless pilot drank in with greedy eyes the beauty of 
 the land before him. The sea shone on either hand, from 
 far, like molten silver, gleaming out in many a tiny bay 
 from the dark bases of the purpled promontories. Emerald 
 valleys spread away from the water's edge, and suddenly 
 curved up steeply into palm-covered hills, overtopped again 
 by piny mountains, reaching far away until their blue sum 
 mits almost melted in the bluer sky. Groves of lofty 
 cocoa-trees were grouped among the meadows, each thick 
 with creepers, from whose tangled verdure hung clusters of 
 purple blossoms. Among the tufted steeps of the hills, 
 sparkling cascades were bursting through the verdant 
 gloom, and hidden again by foliage or gray rocks, until 
 they shone revealed in quiet rivers stealing to the sea. As the 
 
 K 2 
 
148 . DABIEN. 
 
 ship approached yet nearer to the shore, the mariners could 
 see flocks of parrots and blue doves fluttering from grove to 
 grove, and the air was musical with the songs of innumerable 
 hidden birds, and laden with the fragrance of myriads of 
 flowers. Trees grew to the very water's edge, over which 
 hung tempting fruits, making beautiful shadows in the sea. 
 
 Still Alvaro held on his course, as close as possible by 
 this enchanting shore. At one time rocks, at another too 
 thickly matted woods, induced him to keep away. At 
 length a well-sheltered nook with deep water and silver 
 sands, and high overshadowing rocks, determined his ca 
 pricious choice ; and there he ran his storm-beaten vessel 
 in, fortunately when the tide was at the full. 
 
 Days of anxious labour followed. The coast thereabouts 
 appeared to be quite uninhabited, and Alvaro expected that 
 the first gale of wind would dash his ship to pieces. He 
 believed himself (as indeed he was) in the island of San 
 Domingo, and he knew that there must be some buccaneers 
 in the neighbourhood, or not very far off. Though he 
 looked to them for future assistance, he was not quite sure 
 that they would respect his newly-acquired property, and 
 he determined to hide away the cargo of the brigantine, so 
 that he might hereafter have recourse to it, if necessary. 
 The Indian, always grateful as at the moment when he was 
 rescued from the pirates' swords, exerted himself, however 
 reluctantly, to the utmost of his power ; and in a few days 
 a limestone cave had been cleared out and rudely fortified, 
 hung round with silk and velvets, and its recesses filled 
 with the more precious articles. All the provisions that 
 would keep were carefully stowed away ; and then the cavern 
 was closed up, and the ship made fast to the shore. 
 
 CHAPTEE Y. 
 
 Have Carbonaro cooks not carbonadoed 
 The flesh enough 1 
 
 Age of Bronze. 
 
 ALYABO at length felt himself free to sally forth from his 
 
 fortress and his labours, and to explore the wondrously 
 
 beautiful world upon which his destiny had thrown him. 
 
 His heart bounded as he moved along. Almost a man in 
 
DAEIEN. 149 
 
 years, lie was still a child in feeling and experience. Every 
 thing was new to him ; above all, the rapturous sense of 
 perfect freedom, which he then, for the first time in his 
 life, experienced. His humble friend, the Indian, felt 
 almost equal though graver pleasure in being restored to 
 liberty, and to wilds which reminded him of his ancient 
 home. He was one of the Bravos, as the Spaniards called 
 the natives of Darien ; a gallant race, which had alone suc 
 cessfully resisted the conquerors of Mexico and Peru. He 
 was the chief man of his tribe, and had been treated by the 
 Spaniards as an independent prince as long as he remained 
 in his native fortresses, surrounded by his unconquerable 
 people. But in an evil hour he had trusted to Spanish 
 faith, which, though chivalrous towards Christians, was 
 never held binding towards Pagans, the anathematized of 
 the Pope. On visiting the Spaniards at Portobello, he had 
 been arrested for some imaginary crime committed against 
 the Catholic king. The Spaniards, desirous of securing so 
 formidable an enemy, had demanded a ransom far beyond 
 his power to pay, and had ultimately condemned him as a 
 slave. This man is a historical personage in that time, and 
 must have possessed character and talents beyond what are 
 usually conceded to savages. He was respected, even 
 among the buccaneers, for his probity and courage ; and he 
 could speak Spanish, French, and a little English, besides 
 his own language. He now devoted himself to Alvaro, with 
 the most faithful but not servile friendship; and long after 
 wards, in his native mountains, he proved that he did not 
 even then forget what he owed to his preserver. 
 
 With this companion, Alvaro set forward to the west 
 ward ; his pathless way led through scenes of exquisite 
 beauty. Steep ravines, with rushing streams, sometimes 
 impeded his progress ; but everywhere he was surrounded 
 by richly-flowering shrubs, and often shaded by majestic 
 trees. Verdant valleys were intersected by tall rugged 
 rocks, rendered more picturesque by thickly-clustering 
 parasites, round the pensile blossoms of which myriads of 
 beautiful insects hovered; the woods and the very air above 
 him were populous and vocal with sweet-voiced birds of 
 brilliant plumage. All this was as delightful to the un- 
 vitiated taste of the young recluse, as it was new. His 
 love for Nature was virgin and unsophisticated ; her myste- 
 
150 DAEIEX. 
 
 rious loveliness was to him as a revelation, and he enjoyed 
 it with passionate delight. Nor did his expedition fail in 
 many an adventure that gave life and animation to every 
 step he took. But these we must omit for more practical 
 details. 
 
 On the morning of their third day's march, the explorers 
 were descending a thickly-wooded hill, when Andreas sud 
 denly stopped, laid his finger upon his lip, and listened 
 attentively : 
 
 "It is the horn of the flibustier!" at length he ex 
 claimed ; and moved on as if quite satisfied. As they 
 emerged upon the plain, they beheld the buccaneer in his 
 primitive and most innocent character that of a hunter. 
 
 There were half-a-dozen of these people gathered round 
 a huge wild boar, which lay still gasping in the agonies of 
 death. "Wild, fierce men they seemed, with beards un 
 shaven and faces bronzed almost to a negro's hue. A 
 leathern cap, with a long peak in front, a blood-stained 
 leathern tunic, worn loosely over cotton drawers, which 
 reached only to the knee, with buskins made of undressed 
 leather, composed their whole attire. A long musket, and 
 a formidable hunting-knife, with a powder-horn and bullet- 
 bag, and a small bugle suspended from the neck, constituted 
 the remainder of their equipments. Three huge blood 
 hounds, such as used to chase the Indians, even through 
 running water, by the scent, lay upon the grass, with out 
 stretched tongues, and eyes glaring on the dying boar. 
 
 Alvaro paused for some time to contemplate these strange 
 beings, whose story was so rife in European ears. He 
 then advanced fearlessly from the shadow of the trees. As 
 soon as he showed himself the hounds started up, and 
 rushed towards him ; the hunters, too, sprang to their feet, 
 and instinctively looked to the priming of their muskets ; 
 then, observing that the strangers were but two, they called 
 off their hounds, in a voice like the roaring of a buffalo ; 
 and when the brutes reluctantly desisted from their me 
 ditated onslaught, the men flung themselves once more 
 upon the ground, and resumed the appearance of careless 
 ease Alvaro addressed them in Trench ; explained in a 
 few words his relationship to their comrades ; described the 
 battle, the separation of the two ships, and the wreck of 
 the brigantine. He did not, however, think it necessary 
 
DARIEtf. 151 
 
 to speak of the safety of the ship's cargo, but declared that 
 he was able and willing to pay liberally for their services 
 and assistance in procuring him a passage to Carthagena. 
 
 The buccaneers welcomed him cordially. Every man on 
 board the brigantine had been well known by them, and 
 they briefly and emphatically regretted their loss : but they 
 spoke of the catastrophe with a characteristic apathy or 
 stoicism which they seemed to have derived, with other 
 habits, from the aborigines of the island. They proposed to 
 Alvaro to conduct him to their boucan ; and leaving four of 
 their number, with their engages, or slaves, to convey the 
 carcase of the boar, the other two proceeded towards the 
 sea, at a pace which tasked the utmost powers of Alvaro to 
 maintain. At length they reached their village, consisting 
 of a few rude huts and light tents ; these, however, in that 
 genial climate, were sufficient to furnish them with all the 
 shelter they required. One of the largest of these sheds 
 was a storehouse, where they kept provisions ready to 
 exchange with passing ships for brandy and gunpowder, 
 their only foreign necessities. Wild honey, and cassava, 
 and cocoa-nuts, were collected there in considerable quan 
 tities ; but their chief articles of sale, as well as of diet, 
 consisted in long strips of wild bull and boar flesh of a 
 vermilion colour. 
 
 A tent was immediately allotted to Alvaro ; the Indian 
 was sent into the woods to pull fresh fern for his bed ; and 
 meanwhile the buccaneers proceeded to prepare their 
 dinner. The wild boar had now arrived ; it was flayed with 
 wonderful despatch ; its flesh was then separated from the 
 bones, cut into long strips, and laid upon the boucan. 
 
 This Indian grate, from which the formidable freebooters 
 derived their name, was very simple. It consisted of four 
 upright stakes, about six feet apart, and four or five feet 
 high. Upon these a number of green poles were fixed 
 crosswise, and thereon the meat was placed. Then a fire 
 was kindled beneath, and, when it w r as well lighted, the 
 bones and offal, and sometimes the skin, of the animal, were 
 gradually added to the fire, so as to keep it low and steady, 
 and to fill the smoke with ammonia, the meat being turned 
 from time to time, to insure its thorough saturation with 
 the effluvia. The flesh thus roasted shrunk slowly, and 
 assumed the desired vermilion hue. when, after some hours, 
 
152 DAEIEtf. 
 
 the fire was allowed gradually to expire, the meat was fit 
 for use.* It was about the thickness, and twice the breadth 
 of a harness-trace ; the savour was admirable ; it remained 
 good for almost any length of time. 
 
 This meat, with wild fruits, and some Indian corn, was 
 the only diet of the buccaneers. 
 
 The life of these men was spent in the open air ; they 
 were free from care and the anxious thoughts that bend the 
 frame far more than toil can do. Their life was one con 
 tinued enterprise : they were incredibly strong, hardy as 
 the wild bulls they hunted, and desperately daring. When 
 compelled by wrong or want, or induced by the spirit of 
 adventure, to take up arms and scour the seas, they became 
 the scourge of the Spaniards, the avengers of the Indian. 
 
 In the evening, when half a hundred of these strange 
 islanders were collected round their watch-fire, blazing up 
 among the lofty cedars, their groups were fearfully pictu 
 resque. Their leathern frocks were deeply stained with the 
 gore of animals slaughtered in the chase ; their visages, half 
 covered with untrimmed beards and grim moustaches, were 
 browned and hard as leather; their hands, still begrimed 
 with blood and gunpowder, were busy portioning out the 
 meat, or arranging beakers and bottles for the supper. 
 Their fierce eyes glimmered in the flame, as they passed 
 and repassed before it. "Wild jests and oaths were bandied 
 about, and angry orders to the engages, who were pitching 
 the small light tents of newly-arrived Brethren in the back 
 ground, or cleaning muskets, or feeding the hungry hounds. 
 As the sun sank redly in the sea, they all rose gravely, and 
 the next moment they were on their knees, praying fer 
 vently to the Virgin, and chanting the vesper hymn ! Some 
 lew, who were English and Protestants among them, turned 
 away, perhaps contemptuously ; but they respected, by 
 silence at least, their comrades' piety. 
 
 No sooner were the vespers ended, than the meal began. 
 Pew of tho hunters were absent, although two of them had 
 
 * In the same manner, it is said, the Caribs used to roast their 
 prisoners, binding them alive upon the grille, and tempering the fire 
 with such devilish care that the torture was prolonged for hours. The 
 cookery was then considered perfect, and a " jeune femme, bien bou- 
 cannee," as the French translated it, was the most recherche of cannibal 
 luxuries. 
 
DAHIEN. 153 
 
 received wounds that would have been thought severe by 
 other men. A wild boar had ripped up the thigh of one ; 
 but he had closed the seam, and bound it up with withes 
 tied lightly over palmetto leaves. Another had had his leg 
 crushed by the horns of a bull ; but having bathed it in the 
 brute's warm blood, he had been carried to the feast, and 
 now lay upon the ground as contentedly and with as good 
 an appetite as the rest. These were trifling things, but 
 they showed Alvaro what sort of stuff his companions were 
 made of. They now fed fast and furiously, drinking brandy 
 plentifully at the same time ; and at the end of an hour 
 they were all prostrated in drunken sleep. Alvaro gazed 
 upon them with astonishment and interest, not altogether 
 unmingled with respect. He could not sleep. The pro 
 spect of his future life rose up before him. Sometimes 
 he was almost tempted to join these wild men, to en 
 deavour to humanize them, and to found an empire by 
 their prowess. Soon after midnight, however, his medi 
 tations were interrupted. A grisly hunter (the oldest of 
 the party) began to stir, and at length, with a muttered 
 imprecation on himself and all mankind, staggered to his 
 feet. He kicked the dying embers of the watch-fire, which 
 suddenly blazed up, and fiercely lighted his ghastly face and 
 bloodshot eyes. He threw a hurried glance around him, - 
 and seeing Alvaro awake and watchful, he nodded kindly to 
 him, pointing contemptuously to his comrades lying round, 
 whose drunken sleep he had so lately shared. He then 
 moved to a little spring that gushed up through the rocks 
 and mosses beneath the cliff; and having drunk amply from 
 a calabash, he bathed his face in the water, which dropped 
 crimson from his bloody hands. Having completed his 
 scanty ablutions, he shouted to his comrades that it was 
 time to be upon the move, in order to reach the hunting- 
 grounds by daybreak. Alvaro now learned that a great 
 hunting-match 'had been determined on by the buccaneers, 
 in order to provide meat for one of their ships, which was 
 almost daily expected to arrive for provision and recruits. 
 The man who had addressed him was held in respect by the 
 freebooters, on account of his experience and audacity ; but 
 they acknowledged no authority on shore unless, indeed, 
 they were attacked by the Spaniards, or on a freebooting 
 
154 , DAKIEtf. 
 
 expedition, when they patiently submitted to the sternest 
 exercise of discipline, which experience had taught them 
 was alike essential to safety or success. 
 
 Their captains were then elected by vote; and, once 
 chosen, their authority was unbounded. Always the most 
 daring and subtle of a daring and subtle crew, these 
 captains performed wonders with their scanty forces. The 
 wealthiest and most populous cities of the continent were 
 laid under contribution or plundered by them. For thou 
 sands of miles, over land and water, around their strong 
 hold, their flag was held in terror. 
 
 The old buccaneer now sounded a loud blast of his bugle, 
 and his wild comrades started to their feet with wonderful 
 celerity, looked to their muskets, kicked up their unfor 
 tunate engages, and unshackled the bloodhounds; then, 
 after a short conference, they broke up into parties of five 
 or six men each, and disappeared into the forest in different 
 directions. Alvaro, wearied and footsore with unaccustomed 
 travel, determined to remain where he was for the present. 
 Before long he heard shots, shouts, and bugle calls, and 
 the deep voices of the bloodhounds among the hills. He 
 could even hear the thundering rush of the wild cattle, as 
 they were driven through the narrow passes, where the 
 bullets of the buccaneers fell fast and true among them. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Then look'd they to the hills, where fire o'erhung 
 
 The bandit groups, in one Vesuvian glare ; 
 
 There came of every race the mingled swarm j 
 
 Far rung the groves, and gleam'd the midnight grass ; 
 
 With flambeau, javelin, and naked arm, 
 
 Sprang from the woods a bold athletic mass, 
 
 Whom freedom leads and brotherhood combines. 
 
 CAMPBELL. 
 
 FOR the next few days the hunters and their boucans were 
 kept busy. Alvaro tried the sport. The chase of the wild 
 cattle proved only too exciting ; he almost feared to become 
 a buccaneer in spite of himself. There was, indeed, a 
 
DAEIEN. 155 
 
 strange charm about the life they led. The perfect absence 
 of all care and responsibility, the labour just sufficient to 
 make repose welcome, the high health that again stimu 
 lated to labour, the stormy and frequent excitement 
 alternating with periods of unbroken calm to which the 
 delicious climate lent a double enjoyment ; all this seemed 
 delightful to the young Alvaro, new to him as were all such 
 pleasures. As time passed on he made wider excursions, 
 and visited the Indian Tillages, where the few remnants of 
 that ill-fated race still preserved all their attractions, 
 though they had lost, alas ! most of the virtues that their 
 first discoverers had found amongst them. Their glowing 
 sun, (no wonder they worshipped it as a god a god of 
 tremendous power as well as of beneficence,) which infused 
 into all lower nature such luxuriance and brilliancy, had so 
 perfected the human form that Apollo might be proud to 
 own them as his children. An untaught grace and natural 
 dignity resulted from their symmetrical proportions. The 
 light that shone within their large dark eyes was an effluence 
 of the exuberant life within. Even to this hour those 
 Indian islanders have transmitted to some of their posterity 
 a type of the most perfect beauty known. 
 
 On one of the hunting excursions into which Alvaro 
 was drawn, he received a severe wound from a wild boar. 
 A buccaneer might have laughed at it, and dragged his 
 maimed limb back to the boucan fireside and the evening's 
 carouse ; but the untried nature of Alvaro could not bear 
 up against his agony. He caused himself to be carried to 
 the nearest village, and there he was received with all the 
 generous hospitality that characterized the gentle savages 
 of Haiti. They hastily built for him a hut of canes, covered 
 with palmetto leaves, apart from the noise of the village ; 
 and when the terrible fever of that climate came upon him, 
 he was supplied with every luxury and anodyne that simple 
 Indian skill afforded. The freshest, juiciest fruits were 
 ever ready for his parched lips ; calabashes of spring water 
 were constantly poured on the broad leaves that formed his 
 shelter, and on the grass around, in order to cool the air ; 
 and when at length consciousness returned, he observed a 
 youthful female form ever moving softly round him, and 
 ministering to his slightest necessities with a soothing gen- 
 
156 DAEIEtf, 
 
 tleness, to which only woman, whether saint or savage, 
 can attain. 
 
 Avooa was the daughter of the village chief; she was con 
 spicuously beautiful, even among her beautiful race, and 
 her loveliness took the warm unguarded heart of the young 
 Moresco by surprise. Woman was as yet an unknown 
 danger to him, and he braved it until it was too late. He 
 recovered from his fever, but he still lingered around Avooa' s 
 home ; and the young Indian was ever watching for him, 
 having given up her whole heart her very soul to him ; 
 for the poor savage knew no other heaven but that which 
 the presence of the white stranger revealed to her. 
 
 At length the Rubicon was passed : Alvaro married her, 
 after the fashion of her people, and took her away to his 
 tent by the sea-side, leaving her father such a dowry for 
 her that the Indians talked of it in other islands, and all 
 the people looked up with respect to a girl who had brought 
 so high a price. 
 
 The same spell that the artful queen of Egypt exercised 
 on Antony, this simple savage wrought upon her accom 
 plished lover: Alvaro gradually found his magnanimous 
 visions fading from his mind. Time fled by unnoticed as he 
 hunted in the primeval forests, or rested under the shadow 
 of a vast banyan-tree, where he and Avooa had made their 
 home. The sea was close by, swarming with fish for food, 
 and gorgeous shells and fantastic seaweeds to make gay 
 their verdant bower. The light labour that was to be done 
 was performed by the faithful Andreas, who thought no 
 office beneath him. The buccaneers, though some distance 
 off, afforded from their stores the few European necessaries 
 of life. 
 
 Alvaro would have been but too happy in this dreamy 
 life, if he could have forgotten altogether his early aspira 
 tions, if the training of his mind had not imbued him with 
 a longing for enterprise, a grasping appetite for action. 
 
 During the illness of Alvaro, the expected ship had 
 touched at the island and departed, leaving her sick and 
 wounded to recruit their strength. She was now expected 
 to return, after a long cruise among the bays of the isthmus, 
 and her arrival was anxiously watched for. At length she 
 was signalled ; and, instigated by curiosity, Alvaro and his 
 
DAEIEN. 157 
 
 young Indian found themselves among the crowd upon the 
 shore. The proud Moresco, however, could not tolerate the 
 bold admiration that the assembled buccaneers bestowed on 
 Avooa, and he soon withdrew her from their gaze ; but it 
 was too late. 
 
 When the first boat landed from the ship, Alvaro was 
 again upon the shore, and shared in the general interest 
 with which the islanders regarded the unusual appearance 
 of a prisoner, for quarter was rarely given by the bucca 
 neers. The captain stepped ashore, and motioned to this 
 prisoner to follow. He then announced that he had spared 
 him on board a Spanish prize, because he was an English 
 man ; but that, as he refused to join the Brotherhood, any 
 buccaneer who chose might buy him as an engage for a 
 hundred dollars. The prisoner looked upon the buyers who 
 crowded round to examine him with a calm unconscious air 
 of superiority that struck Alvaro forcibly. He was of a 
 commanding presence, though his blue eyes beamed with 
 philanthropy, and the strength of character impressed on 
 his countenance bespoke great power of endurance rather 
 than any more active passion. He was young, but he wore an 
 appearance of resignation and deep thought and anxious care, 
 as with folded arms he endured the scrutiny of the bucca 
 neers : they examined and discussed his capabilities as they 
 would have done those of a horse or hound. Alvaro, who 
 felt irresistibly attracted to the stranger, and proportionably 
 annoyed at these insults, at once stepped up to the captain, 
 paid him the hundred dollars he demanded, then extended to 
 the prisoner his hand, and told him he was free. The buc 
 caneers looked upon this bargain at first with curiosity, and 
 finally with indignation. Innovation of any kind was very 
 unpopular amongst them ; but an assumption of generosity 
 and condemnation of slavery, above all in a mere interloper, 
 was not to be endured. Moreover, this reformer had evi 
 dently great wealth, which had not, they thought, been 
 shared according to buccaneering principles. Wherefore 
 then should he enjoy buccaneering privileges ? 
 
 While they were thus angrily debating, Alvaro led the 
 stranger to his home beneath the banyan tree, gave him 
 such refreshments as he could procure, and then requested 
 from him an account of his adventures. 
 
 An Oriental, whether he be Moor or Spaniard born, 
 
158 DAEIEN. 
 
 dearly loves a tale ; it suits his imaginative but dreamily- 
 indolent mind, to set it flowing along the current of another's 
 thought, and find it wafted into new ideal regions without 
 an effort. The evening hour, too, was come ; the glorious 
 evening of the tropics, when a meditative tone steals over 
 the spirits, as the " starry influences" spread along the sky. 
 The two Europeans lay upon a bank sloping towards the 
 glittering sea ; the blue smoke from their pipes rose straight 
 upward in the motionless air, fire-flies gleamed and flashed 
 round about them and above them, and the waves broke 
 softly in phosphorescent foam upon the sand below. 
 
 Avooa, gracefully crouched beneath the columned foliage 
 of their roof-tree, watched every movement of Alvaro with 
 her intense and loving eyes ; and a brace of blood-hounds 
 prowled, or rather patrolled, about their master's sylvan 
 home, in a grave and conscientious sort of manner. 
 
 Thus the stranger began his story under the most favour 
 able auspices. Would that the reader's interest could be 
 increased or conciliated by some such pleasant influence ! 
 
 As with national caution, the narrator of the following 
 particulars surpressed much that afterwards transpired, and 
 as the French in which he spoke was far from perfect, it 
 seems better to relate what is now matter of history, histo 
 rically, than to do so, as Alvaro might have heard it. 
 
 The stranger was one in whom I must hope that the 
 reader already takes some interest. He was the Willie 
 Paterson, locally called Tinwald, of Sandilee: he is now 
 three years older in point of time, but " very much his own 
 senior," (as an Irishman once observed of himself,) in point 
 of experience. We took leave of him at Bristol, where he 
 remained for some time, finding abundance of occupation 
 for his active mind. On hearing of his father's increasing 
 illness, he had returned in disguise to Sandilee. He was 
 in time to fulfil the old man's prayer, that he might see his 
 son's face once more, and that it should be the last earthly 
 object visible through the gathering mist of death. 
 
 He found that Partan had almost recovered from the 
 injury he had received. There had been pressure on the 
 brain, which, when removed, left few dangerous symptoms, 
 except those which weakness and former intemperance 
 superinduced. He had been carried, according to Tinwald's 
 directions, to the old manor-house, and, as Tinwald learned 
 
DAEIEK. 159 
 
 from the house-keeper, Janet, the laird had found great 
 interest at first in nursing him, as his lost son's legacy; 
 and, ultimately, in his society. Of his fall from the cliff, 
 Partan could give but a very confused account. Being at 
 the time flustered with strong drink, and so suddenly 
 rendered insensible, he could not swear that Lawrence had 
 thrown him down, and he would not even assert it on 
 suspicion. Nor did Tinwald seek to remove the doubt; 
 though it struck him as remarkable that the captain affected 
 ignorance of any accident having befallen the old sailor. 
 There being no assignable motive for such an outrage, 
 however, and no clue to its commission, he thought it better 
 to search no further into the case. Perhaps, after all, it 
 was a hallucination of Partan' s, caused by the wandering 
 of his brain, and his enmity to the buccaneer. 
 
 Old Tarn was still smoking in his chimney corner, grown 
 very old, and perpetually gloating on the gold which he 
 expected by every tide. Alice was away with her aunt at 
 Annan. Her friend Isobel had been left an orphan, and 
 was to return with her to the Peel-house in a few days : 
 for that arrival, Tinwald had no desire to wait. He did 
 not wish to trust himself with another interview, as he 
 considered that her troth was binding as a marriage vow. 
 Therefore, as soon as he had performed the last duties to 
 his father, he longed to leave the manor-house. 
 
 No living departure ever leaves such a sense of loneliness 
 behind it as the departure of the unconscious form of our 
 still cherished dead ; and sadness and sorrow always revive 
 an innate desire for change of scene. Paterson had now 
 no tie to home ; for that sacred word applies to hearts not 
 hearths. -He turned his thoughts once more to the western 
 islands, of which he had heard so much ; he felt as if called 
 to exercise a sort of missionary profession there, as he had 
 already done among the smugglers of his own coast. He 
 thought his efforts might, perhaps, avail something even 
 among the buccaneers, whose romantic history interested 
 him ; and among the Indians, whom the touching story of 
 Las Casas had taught him to compassionate. Dwelling on 
 these and such like thoughts, he brought himself to believe 
 that it was no longer his vocation, even if permitted by the 
 government, to remain in his own home to speed his 
 plough, or haggle about sheep at lowland fairs. 
 
160 DAEIEtf. 
 
 Accordingly, having, after his own fashion, held a solemn 
 fast and vigil with much prayer, he commended himself to a 
 new career. He sold all that he possessed, except the 
 old manor-house and garden ; for a Scotsman always loves 
 to have a "bit ingle he can ca' his own" in the land he is 
 always prompt to abandon and to which he longs to return. 
 Having, therefore, confided his household goods to the care 
 of his foster-mother and house-keeper, Janet, he bade adieu 
 to his home for long, long years. 
 
 He proceeded first to 'Hamburgh, then the greatest 
 mercantile city in the north of Europe. There he applied 
 himself to acquire the most recent geographical informa 
 tion, and to study the French and Spanish languages ; 
 neither did he omit researches into the principles of trade, 
 notwithstanding his higher object. 
 
 Here he again met with his kinsman, John Law, of 
 Lauriston, who was already employed in a place of trust. 
 This young man's keen, intelligent, inquiring nature, found 
 in that of Paterson something kindred in spirit, though 
 very different in sentiment. The ambition of the youth was 
 soaring but selfish, that of Paterson was magnanimous and 
 disinterested, founded on the character of the old worthies 
 and ancient sages, with whose writings and histories he had 
 been familiar since his childhood. Nevertheless, the boy's 
 enthusiasm unconsciously ministered to his kinsman's ; and 
 while giving it, perhaps, a more worldly turn, kept it con 
 tinually awake. 
 
 After about a year's residence, he passed on to Brussels, 
 in hopes of obtaining there some introduction to Spain, 
 which country he next proposed to visit, as initiatory to its 
 Indian colonies. 
 
 Passing on to Paris, whence the fame of Colbert had 
 filled his ears, he made a considerable stay in that volup 
 tuous city, the splendour and misery, extravagance and 
 poverty of which were then unequalled. Here his cherished 
 plans were kept alive and enlightened; for Louis XIV. 
 patronised the buccaneers, whom, notwithstanding his own 
 connection with Spain, he was pleased to see in the heart 
 of his great brother's colonies. At this period the flibustiers 
 were in almost tranquil possession of great part of Hispa- 
 niola, St. Domingo, and the whole of the little island of La 
 Tortue. Erom Paris, Paterson proceeded across the Pyrenees 
 
DAEIEF. 161 
 
 to Bilboa and Seville. He found the Spanish nation 
 already in a state of such decline, as appeared to him 
 could only have fallen on a lately great and prosperous 
 people by a special judgment of Providence. The Indians' 
 wrongs seemed also, to his ardent imagination, to be visibly 
 avenged by the terrific storms, floods, and famine that were 
 then desolating the fairest provinces of Andalusia. 
 
 Full of eager expectation, he set sail in a galleon for 
 Carthagena, but encountered so many adverse winds, that 
 the crew were prostrated by fatigue and illness, when they 
 were encountered by the buccaneers. To them the galleon 
 fell an easy prey ; all on board of her, except Paterson, 
 were put to the sword, or forced to " walk the plank." He 
 was, we have seen, spared, being an Englishman, and be 
 longing to a people with whom the buccaneers affected to 
 be on good terms. But when he refused to enter " The 
 Brotherhood," and to take the oaths required by them, he 
 was condemned to slavery, and as such, had formed part of 
 the captain's booty, and been sold accordingly. 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 Hush'd "were his Gertrude's lips, but still their bland 
 And beautiful expression seem'd to melt 
 With love that could not die ! and still his hand 
 She presses to the heart no more that felt ; 
 A heart, where once each fond affection dwelt, 
 And features yet that spoke a soul more fair ! 
 Mute, gazing, agonizing as he knelt, 
 Of them that stood encircling his despair, 
 He heard some friendly words ; but knew not what they were. 
 
 CAMPBELL. 
 
 THE story was ended; very different in its details, and 
 doubtless far more graphic than ours. The narrator sup 
 pressed, as unimportant to his hearer, many of the facts 
 here set down ; but he impressed upon what he did relate 
 much of his own character and peculiar sentiments. Alvaro 
 was struck with observations which, though new, seemed 
 familiar to him ; and with many high-hearted thoughts to 
 which he proudly found an echo in his own breast. He 
 
 L 
 
162 DAEIEtf. 
 
 listened to Paterson as to some eloquent lecturer on hu 
 manity, rather than as to a mere narrator of some of the 
 humblest events of life. 
 
 "When the speaker ceased, the ripple of the waves and the 
 rustle of leaves began once more to be heard in the deep 
 silence that ensued. 
 
 Alvaro at length found words, and expressing, at the 
 same time, admiration and sympathy for the stranger's 
 sentiments, concluded by saying, 
 
 " It would seem that we are the only two Europeans hi 
 all this beautiful island-world, who are not leagued as rob 
 bers. Let us be friends : let us look upon our meeting as 
 decreed by some favourable fate ; and henceforth accept me 
 as a fellow-labourer with you, willing to strive for good 
 against the great evil that is everywhere manifest around 
 us." 
 
 " It is bravely said," replied Paterson ; " and brave, kind 
 thoughts were never meant to expire on the words that 
 uttered them. It may be, that my captivity, like that of 
 Joseph, has been sent in unsuspected furtherance of my 
 prayers. But, hark! Hear you not something like the 
 stealthy motion of a canoe through the water ? Did I not 
 know that yonder fierce buccaneers were well able to keep 
 their own coast clear, I should feel inclined to fear a surprise 
 from hostile Indians." 
 
 Alvaro, also, had caught, as he fancied, the sound of a 
 paddle, but he knew that all the natives were his friends ; 
 and the bending foliage of the mangrove trees, drooping 
 over the water, prevented anything beneath them, or in 
 their shadow, from being seen. He resumed the easy at 
 titude from which he had been roused, on finding that the 
 silence was undisturbed. 
 
 But the Indian girl's attention was not so quickly lulled. 
 'She had been long listening with rapt attention to the 
 unknown words of the stranger, which appeared so deeply 
 to interest him who was all in all to her. Her heart was 
 very sad, with the foreboding that a summons had now 
 come to bear him far away from the happy island that had 
 always been her home, and had lately been her heaven. 
 She watched with deep, womanly instinct the upturned 
 future-seeking glance, the resolved look, which Alvaro gra 
 dually assumed, as he listened to the dreams and plans 
 
DAEIEJT. 163 
 
 that had brought the northern stranger from afar: she 
 read, in his unusual aspect, changed thoughts rising in his 
 mind. Vague feelings of fear rose, at the same time, in her 
 heart. She had heard of wondrous worlds beyond the blue 
 seas that surrounded her, but they were as the land of 
 spirits to her imagination ; she trembled when she saw that 
 a thought wondered from her and her island home. 
 
 And all this time, as she looked and listened, another 
 undefined sensation was stealing upon her. Her ear, at 
 tuned in her wild solitudes to the faintest sounds, now de 
 tected something unexpected on the evening breeze. We 
 can see the group in imagination, though so long since past 
 away. The sea, all glittering in the full abounding moon 
 light, which likewise tinged with its silveriness the plumy 
 palm-trees and the forests far away ; and the blue moun 
 tains, that shut out whole regions of the starry sky. On 
 the verdant, grass-grown shore, fringed, except on one 
 sandy spot, by mangroves, reclines the sun-browned Mo- 
 resco, his countenance radiant with awakened thought, 
 his eyes upturned to the stars, listening in rapt attention 
 to the fair-haired stranger, who put into words the ideas 
 that so long had haunted his heart. The Indian girl, with 
 eyes sometimes fixed upon the speaker, and sometimes with 
 far deeper watchfulness upon the listener, and sometimes 
 glancing nervously all round into the darkness of the 
 surrounding forest. The bloodhounds, half subdued by the 
 soft, enervating languor of the breathless air, yet disturbed 
 by some restless instinct. Hark ! again that stealthy ripple 
 in the water. A boat emerges from the shadow, touches 
 the sands, and an Indian draws it upon the beach, and ap 
 proaches them swiftly and cautiously. It is Andreas, who 
 whispers in his master's ear. He has been listening, from a 
 place of concealment, to the buccaneers. Inflamed with 
 drink, they have spoken aloud their hatred of Alvaro their 
 foul-mouthed admiration of Avooa. Alvaro heard the In 
 dian's story unmovedly : he had already experienced enough 
 of the buccaneers' wild life to have acquired something of 
 their recklessness. He knew that they hated him : it was 
 well ; he hated them in return, and was even then ^ medi 
 tating how to free himself for ever from their association. 
 He listened with impassive features to the Indian's infor 
 mation ; and then, repeating it to his new friend in an un- 
 
 L 2 
 
J64 DAEIEK. 
 
 moved voice, waited for his counsel. Whilst he spoke, the 
 waves still rippled on the gravel, with a soothing, quiet 
 sound, the night-birds sang cheerily in the woods far off, 
 and the lights of heaven shone softly down, as if they would 
 permeate the earth with their divine influence. But he had 
 scarcely ceased, when the hounds, with a wild, fierce yell, 
 spring from their lair. A shriek a woman's shriek is 
 heard, and, before Alvaro could snatch up his weapon, 
 Avooa is clasped in the arms of a buccaneer, and borne 
 away. Half-a-dozen muskets are levelled at Alvaro, and 
 the hounds' gallant challenge subsides into a sullen moan of 
 agony. 
 
 Paterson would fain have reasoned and expostulated ; but 
 Alvaro was already gone. The musket-shots, uncertainly 
 fired by startled and drunken men, plashed through the 
 trees, and far off into the sea ; two of those who fired them 
 lay prostrate struck to the ground by the tiger spring of 
 the young Moor. The shrieks of Avooa led him on, up by 
 a steep path, where the precipice hung beetling above the 
 sea. The ravisher is reached, his throat is in the spasmetf 
 grasp of the Moor, he reels upon the narrow path, and 
 totters over the precipice, but still he clings to the Indian's 
 lovely form. In the recklessness of rage, Alvaro spurns 
 him from the cliff, as he attempts to snatch Avooa from his 
 grasp, steadying himself by holding to a young tree. The 
 bough gives, it breaks. A moment, and they are all gone 
 together hurled down, over crag, and bank, and crushed 
 trees, until they reach the shore, and lie huddled, a mere 
 human heap, upon the sands below. 
 
 Meanwhile Paterson and the Indian, concealed by th& 
 smoke of the muskets, had rushed to the boat, and reached 
 the shelter of the mangroves. The drunken buccaneers 
 lost sight of them, fired a few shots through the trees, and 
 then returned to their tents and boucan. They had not 
 intended to destroy Alvaro and his protege, but to take them 
 prisoners, and sell them as engages to the "Brethren" in 
 Cuba. Paterson and the negro pulled swiftly round to 
 where they heard the boughs crashing underneath the cliff. 
 They found those whom they sought still motionless ; the 
 buccaneer had fallen undermost, a rock had laid his skull 
 open ; they left the caitiff's corpse to the mercy of the 
 rising tide, and carefully removed the inanimate forms of 
 
DARIEN. 165 
 
 Alvaro and the poor Indian girl to the canoe. Then they 
 pulled silently along the shore to the eastward. As soon 
 as they had reached a safe distance from the buccaneers, 
 they laid down their oars and attempted to revive the 
 sufferers. Both still breathed : Avooa only gave a few deep 
 sighs arid turned towards Alvaro, as if seeking refuge ; her 
 head rested on his neck, almost covering his pallid face 
 with the masses of her rich black hair. When Alvaro re 
 covered consciousness he laid his hand upon her heart it 
 was still for ever. The Moresco bent over her prostrate 
 form ; he shed no tear he covered his face with his hands 
 and sank down beside her. 
 
 Andreas motioned to Paterson to take up his oar, and 
 they pulled away rapidly, still to the eastward. Before 
 morning, they reached the rock where the ship had been 
 stranded the year before. Scarcely a fragment of her re 
 mained, but her boat had fortunately been laid high and 
 dry upon the beach. Alvaro in silence carried the corpse 
 of Avooa towards the cavern, where they had left their 
 stores. There he fondly and tenderly laid her on piles of 
 the softest silks, and his comrades left him kneeling by her 
 side. In about an hour they returned ; they had made a 
 grave beneath a tall palm-tree which served for a landmark 
 many a mile at sea. And there they laid the poor Indian 
 girl in her silken shroud, to take her last long rest. 
 
 For some days, they remained near the cavern, fitting the 
 boat for a long sea voyage as well as they were able. Alvaro 
 slowly recovered from his wounds, and, after his deep pro 
 stration, gave such symptoms of revival that his companions 
 thought it would be a relief to him to return to acti 
 vity. After some council, it was determined to sail to the 
 eastward, weather the island, and bear away for Jamaica, 
 where they were sure of shelter from the English who were 
 settled there. The dangers of so long a voyage in an open 
 boat were considerable, but nothing compared with the 
 chances of falling into the hands of the buccaneers. 
 
 Having taken from the spoils in the cavern such jewels 
 and other matters as could most easily be concealed about 
 their persons, and having victualled their boat from the 
 ship's stores, they launched her at sunset so as to be unob 
 served by any chance stragglers, and rowed till morning, 
 relieving one another by turns at the oars. Their little 
 
166 DAEIEN. 
 
 vessel was curiously fitted up. In herself a mere fishing- 
 boat, and rudely built, within she was furnished as gor 
 geously as Cleopatra's barge. In the absence of iron, they 
 had been obliged to use silver and golden plates, and fasten 
 ings, hammered rudely out at night, with rocks for an anvil 
 and cedar fires for a forge. In the absence of canvas and 
 thread they were compelled to make their sails of satin and 
 their cordage of silk. Their mouldy biscuits were secured in 
 a chest of sandal wood, their junk w r as laid up in ivory 
 cabinets. Crystal vases held their brandy and fresh water, 
 and velvet cushions formed the seats of the anxious sea 
 farers. So they sailed away through darkness and danger, 
 surrounded by signs of wealth and luxury, and lay the rag 
 ing indomitable sea ! 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 But 'tis not mine to tell their tale of grief, 
 Their constant peril, and their scant relief; 
 Their days of danger and their nights of pain, 
 Their manly courage e'en when deem'd in vain : 
 The incessant fever of that arid thirst 
 Which welcomes as a well the clouds that burst 
 Above their naked bones, and feels delight 
 In the cold drenching of the stormy night. 
 
 The Island. 
 
 AFTEB many hardships and dangers, our adventurous mari 
 ners weathered Cape Engano, and ran ashore at the little 
 island of Saoua to replenish their precious water-casks at 
 its fountain. They then stood boldly out to sea, and after 
 a run of one hundred and fifty miles, touched again at the 
 islet of Alta Vela, giving the coast of Haiti still a wide 
 berth. Another long stretch brought them to Point Gra- 
 vois, whence, though in want of water, they were deterred 
 from landing, by observing the w ell-known fires of a boucan. 
 A strong wind drove them out of their course to the north 
 ward, where the currents of the windward passage tried 
 their little craft sorely, and the sun of the tropics burned 
 down upon them, inflaming the thirst that already was con 
 suming their parched throats. They began to look eagerly 
 
DABIEN. 167 
 
 for land, but in vain. Just as the moon rose above the ho 
 rizon, they observed what seemed a speck in her bright orb 
 she rose and it was gone. It must be land they thought, 
 and stretching towards it with sail and oar, they found 
 themselves close to the little island of Navasa before sun 
 rise. But it mocked their hopes ; it was a mere mass of 
 rocks ; there was neither stream nor fountain there ; nor, 
 as far as eye could reach, was there any other land. The 
 sun shone in all his terrible might, and nothing but the 
 most dreadful death appeared to await them. They re 
 turned to their boat, and looked on one another in despair 
 ing silence. At length the Indian chief murmured in ac 
 cents almost inaudible from his swollen tongue and parched 
 lips. 
 
 " Senor ! you saved my life, it is yours. Indian veins 
 have much blood, the heart it flows from is yours ; drink 
 from your own fountain." 
 
 So saying, he plunged his knife in his arm, and held the 
 crimson welling stream to the mouth of his master.* Who 
 can tell how great was the horrid temptation to the dying 
 Moor how heroic his abstinence from that unnatural 
 draught ! He seized the brave arm and bathed it in tears, 
 as he hastily bound up the wound with a strip of his own 
 sleeve. Then silently he took up his oar, and without a 
 word being spoken, he and Paterson pulled out to sea once 
 more. But the sun still shone with terrible power upon 
 the waters ; the very breeze seemed scorched to death ; the 
 arms of the feverish men became more languid at each 
 stroke of the oar, and at length they ceased their appa 
 rently unavailing labour. Thus they floated for some time 
 in the silence of despair ; when suddenly the boat was 
 stirred, though there was no breath of air. Strong bubbles 
 danced about on the surface of the sea, and the water that 
 came welling up from some great depth was of a different 
 colour from that which surrounded it. Alvaro dipped his 
 hand into it, it felt cold. In almost delirious, doubtful 
 joy he plunged overboard, and his companions with surprise 
 beheld him swallowing copious draughts of the water, 
 They quickly filled a goblet and drank too. "Was it a mira 
 cle or was there indeed a well-spring of sweet water in 
 the salt wilderness of ocean ? Pure, fresh, and sparkling 
 * A fact. 
 
168 DAEIEN. 
 
 as the diamond fountain that rises on the Dead Sea's 
 shore, that fountain shone and sparkled, and such it is to 
 this day. The mariners were saved. They filled their 
 water vessels once more, but still they lingered by that 
 wondrous fountain. At length a breeze springing up, 
 they set their silken sails and bore away to the westward. 
 
 The next morning the summit of a lofty ridge of hills 
 was visible. They were the Blue Mountains of Jamaica, 
 and the boat was steered for the nearest point of land. The 
 beauty of this " Land of Streams "* is exquisite, as you ap 
 proach it from the northward. Even now, when its very 
 name is associated with ruin, disappointment, and decay, 
 you are impressed with a sense of its smiling prosperity, 
 which nothing but the universal voice of its inhabitants 
 contradicts. It was then in its youth of promise; just 
 rising into consideration. Its exceeding fertility, as well 
 as beauty and fortunate position for commerce, had already 
 procured for it many enterprising settlers. Plantations and 
 fair gardens bespread the beautiful and well-watered plains 
 that lay between the mountains and the sea. The Anglo- 
 Saxon language gave voice to Anglo-Saxon feelings there, 
 and inspired that energy of which the world has felt the 
 effects even to its utmost bounds. There English homes 
 began to smile, and English chapels rose, and the noble 
 Liturgy of England's Church gave to her prayers an in 
 spired form. 
 
 One of the first of these settlements was the little town 
 of Manoa, long since deserted and crumbled into ruins. 
 Its relics, which now alone greet the seafarer's eyes, and 
 harbour only dangerous and loathsome reptiles, once formed 
 the abodes of striving, industrious men, and sheltered all 
 that made their now-forgotten lives then dear to them. 
 
 The weary mariners gazed with delight upon that favoured 
 land. They had ample time to observe its beauties, for the 
 breeze that had wafted them so far began to fail as they 
 approached the shore, within twelve miles of w r hich the air 
 at noon is almost always still. All around is calm. JN"o 
 tide is felt upon that coast ; the heat is tempered by the 
 lofty mountains, and the exhalations of its many streams. 
 Those exhalations, hovering in the quiet atmosphere, catch 
 
 ; * Xoymaca, or " stream land," is the Indian name of this island, 
 from which our appellation is derived. 
 
DAEIEK. 169 
 
 the sunshine, and seem to retain it, tinging the light with 
 lovely hues of violet and orange-colour as the sun declines. 
 And from the depths of those coloured mists and emerald 
 lawns, stands out in strong relief dark masses of wide- 
 spreading cedars and cocoa-trees, as if planted with most 
 artistic skill to make the lovely landscape altogether 
 perfect. 
 
 At length the sandy shore was visible, and its very shells; 
 and thereon were groups of the settlers watching eagerly 
 the strange-looking craft, with sails of purple silk, and 
 velvet awnings over its sea-washed, weather-beaten crew. 
 They landed, and Paterson knelt reverently down upon the 
 shore in prayer. Alvaro and the Indian stood by in silence, 
 perhaps respecting the feelings of their Christian comrade, 
 but betraying no outward sign of sympathy, whatever vague 
 feelings of devoutness may have swelled within their 
 breasts. 
 
 They were soon surrounded by eager inquirers, who 
 straightway gave them warm welcome, and the chief 
 magistrate claimed them for his guests, ordering his slaves 
 to transport the contents of their little bark to his cottage. 
 A banquet was given in their honour, and in the evening, 
 when the cool land-breeze began to fan the lofty trees, they 
 sat under the broad verandah that screened them from the 
 dangerous dews, and all the English inhabitants assembled 
 round them to listen to Paterson' s relation of their escape 
 and perilous voyage. He of course suppressed all that 
 related to the immediate cause of their quarrel with the 
 buccaneers ; nor would it have been pruident in that as 
 sembly to denounce the Brethren of the Coast, who were 
 looked upon in rather an honourable light. Their dealings 
 at Jamaica were always transacted in a fair commercial 
 spirit ; they were the scourge of the Spanish enemy, and, 
 by the sale of their spoil, the chief promoters of the island's 
 prosperity. Paterson took care, therefore, to dwell upon 
 the fact, that it was with the mere hunters or matadores 
 they had disagreed ; and that the only ship, frequenting the 
 coast they came from, was manned by nibustiers, and not 
 by buccaneers.* 
 
 * FLIBUSTIER was a corruption of the English word Freebooter, 
 unpronounceable by Frenchmen ; BUCCANEER was a corruption of the 
 French word Boucanier ; and, by a singular perversity, the English 
 
170 DAEIEtf. 
 
 His narrative was very favourably received, therefore^ 
 and some days were passed at Manoa pleasantly enough by 
 the adventurers ; at least by Paterson and the Indian ; for 
 Alvaro wandered away into the woods from sunshine until 
 dark, nursing his deep uncomplaining sorrow in solitude. 
 They next resolved to proceed to St. Jago, then the chief 
 city of the island. There they expected to obtain informa 
 tion as to the state of Terra Firma and the Isthmus of 
 Panama : Paterson agreeing with his friend that they could 
 no longer remain in countries frequented by the buccaneers. 
 He thought it was necessary for Alvaro to adopt some pur 
 suit that would occupy his mind and give employment to 
 his energies. Commerce then offered the best and wor 
 thiest, if not the only honest career that was possible to an 
 adventurer and a stranger ; besides the constant excitement 
 and boundless prospect that it opened. He had lately 
 devoted much attention to the principle of trade, and Al 
 varo, by his early education, his generous nature, and the 
 large capital at his command, appeared well adapted to 
 develope its resources in a useful and brilliant manner. 
 
 The friends finally resolved to repair in the first instance 
 to Carthagena, where a merchant, named Don Felipo Mar 
 tinez, held large sums in trust for the house of Medina. 
 While waiting for a passage thither, they were informed 
 that the Governor, Sir Henry Morgan, desired to see them, 
 and to hear from their own lips a narrative of their adven 
 tures. This singular man had himself been a buccaneer of 
 the highest renown to which ferocity, ruthlessness, and 
 daring could attain. He was originally a Welshman, of a 
 humble family that claimed very long descent. He had run 
 away to Bristol, embarked for Barbadoes as a common sea 
 man, was sold at Jamaica as an engage, became a buccaneer 
 in the natural course of events, was soon chosen captain, 
 and finally appointed " Vice- Admiral " by Mansvelt. He 
 was more feared than any rover of the seas, except L'Olo- 
 nois. The whole isthmus stood in awe of him ; and after 
 his successful sack of Panama, he might, with common 
 honesty, have banded the entire Brotherhood of the Coast 
 
 adopted the French appellation, and the French assumed the English 
 one, calling themselves flibusticrs. Therefore, Paterson cannily 
 availed himself of the old national prejudice by pointing out that his 
 enemies had belonged to this latter denomination. 
 
DAEIEK. 171 
 
 under his standard, and reduced all Spanish America. But 
 his avarice prevailed over his ambition. He cheated his 
 followers, and sailed away from the fleet with by far the 
 greater part of the plunder he had acquired. And yet - 
 the infamy of dishonesty being superadded to the atrocities 
 of his former life he was made a knight, and appointed 
 Governor of Jamaica by the ministers of Charles II., the 
 basest G-overnment that ever disgraced England. But their 
 policy seemed justified by the result. Charles at that time 
 desired to be on good terms with Spain, and in order to 
 conciliate that kingdom, he resolved to disown and dis 
 countenance the buccaneers. Morgan, as Governor of 
 Jamaica, was in a capacity to annoy this Brotherhood 
 severely. He felt for his former comrades all the hatred 
 of an apostate, and the malice of an informer. He was 
 as inexorable to their appeals as he had formerly been to 
 those of honest men ; he never spared those who fell into 
 his hands ; and though in all other parts of the island they 
 were welcomed, a brief examination and a halter was the 
 sure fate of those who were detected at St. Jago. 
 
 The ex-buccaneer, however, had now assumed a serious 
 character ; and who can venture to say that his conversion 
 was not, in its way, sincere ? After the fashion of several 
 ancient and illustrious evil-doers, he moreover built a 
 church and endowed it. 
 
 It naturally takes some time to undo the ruffian habits 
 acquired in a life-long apprenticeship to crime, but Morgan 
 appeared to have begun the task when he was recalled to 
 England. There he soon afterwards died of consumption, 
 and the worry attendant upon constant accusations against 
 him for acts sanctioned by the Government. Thus, having 
 been rewarded for his crimes, he was persecuted to the 
 death for his honest conduct. 
 
 Paterson was summoned to the presence of the Lieu 
 tenant- Govern or of Jamaica, at the period when his autho 
 rity was highest. He found the ex-buccaneer seated in 
 great state, surrounded by his officers. He was a portly 
 person, with a broad face, especially in its lower parts : he 
 had a projecting under lip, a mouth and chin expressive of 
 great determination, a small straight nose, moustaches 
 short and bristly, eyes very wide apart, shaded by lowering 
 eyebrows and very 'fat lids a countenance, on the whole, 
 
172 DARIEN. 
 
 devoid of ruth, or fear, or grace ; the possessor of which 
 must have found it a harder matter to reform himself than 
 most men would have done.* 
 
 This redoubtable Governor received Paterson very gra 
 ciously, and listened with interest to the brief detail which 
 the prudent Scot alone considered necessary. He inquired 
 with greater curiosity about the buccaneers than his in 
 formant found it quite convenient to satisfy. He then 
 asked Paterson abruptly what opinion he had formed of his 
 government. 
 
 " Tour Excellency," replied the Scot, " will perhaps ex 
 cuse my frankness in questioning one of its acts, while, with 
 equal frankness, I express my admiration of it in others ? " 
 
 The Governor nodded assent. 
 
 "It excites my curiosity," continued Paterson, "to ob 
 serve that England, the most powerful of colonizing States, 
 appears to keep her negroes in a darker state of oppression 
 and ignorance than any other. If I am not misinformed, 
 the slaves here are forbidden on pain of death to attend any 
 divine worship or listen to any instruction." f 
 
 The church-founding buccaneer smiled grimly as he re 
 plied, " Good fellow, do not meddle with matters above your 
 comprehension. Those scoundrels are dark without, and 
 let 'em remain dark within. If once they become Christians 
 how could we treat 'em like brutes, as they are, and as they 
 must remain for the prosperity of the colony ? Tour con 
 gregations for low people are mere excuses for plots and 
 insurrections." 
 
 " Well then," persisted Paterson, " the buccaneers are 
 already Christians. Perhaps if some lenity and encourage 
 ment were shown to them, they might improve and become 
 honest subjects. At the island of Cayenne they have set 
 tled down and become good colonists." 
 
 The Governor upon hearing this, grew earnest. He said 
 that Paterson must be a bold man to talk thus to him who 
 
 * I subjoin an account of his dress, for the sake of those who may 
 be curious in such matters : " He wore a doublet of rich orange bro 
 cade, slashed at the sleeves to show the purple lining. A broad 
 embroidered sword-belt, with broad fringes across the shoulder, a laced 
 cravat round his short neck, and a huge wig curling down his 
 shoulders." 
 
 t A tact. 
 
DARIEtf. 173 
 
 knew them so well. He maintained that they were worse 
 than hopeless, as was any prospect of turning them from 
 their evil ways ; that to go amongst them to preach to them 
 would be an immediate step to martyrdom, without any 
 other result. " It is true," he said, " that many of them are 
 much kiven to brayer : put it would pe less awful to hear 
 their natural curses. They will bray to all their saints 
 pefore they pegin to trink ; and when they are trunk they 
 will call one another py names of tevils, and imitate hell 
 for bastime. I was opliged to but a stop to it on poard my 
 ship at last, for I lost some of my pest hands by shutting 
 themselves up in the hold, and purning sulphur and trink- 
 ing purning prandy, to make themselves, as they said, merry 
 after the fashion of tevils." 
 
 Paterson observed that perhaps if some better course of 
 life were open to them, they would take refuge in it ; 
 instead of having recourse to such demoniacal orgies as 
 could only be suggested by despair. 
 
 " Ach yes," rejoined the Governor; " if there was an 
 English city, like Carthagena, on the isthmus, that would 
 puild, and puy, and sell, and make ships, and man them, and 
 make a constant healthy stir of pusiness, instead of stag 
 nating, like those pestilent Spaniards ; then the puccaneering 
 pusiness would soon cease. Pad times make pad men. A 
 large and honest open trade would do up the piracy fery 
 soon. Put, till that is made, breaching is no use to them." 
 
 Paterson saw much force in the Governor's observations, 
 and they increased a desire on which his mind had long 
 brooded, which was, to establish a great colonial city on the 
 isthmus, which should communicate with a similar one on 
 the Pacific side, and thus join the commerce of the two worlds 
 in that one spot. Alvaro caught at the scheme, and the two 
 friends resolved, in the first instance, to establish themselves 
 at Carthagena. Thither they soon proceeded in a smuggling' 
 vessel; by means of which, both Spaniards and English 
 obtained all that was obtainable of their respective neigh 
 bours' forbidden produce. 
 
 This smuggling vessel was a fast sailer, as was very need 
 ful for her safety. Sometimes, in her voyage from the 
 English settlements, she was pursued by the Spaniards; 
 sometimes, on returning from the Terra Firma, she was 
 chased by the buccaneers. Like the Flying-fish, whose 
 
174 DAEIEF. 
 
 name she bore, everything that moved upon the waters was 
 her enemy. But her speed had hitherto defied all pursuit, 
 and she now transported Alvaro and his friend to their des 
 tination. Andreas, of course, accompanied them. He had, 
 in former times, guided Sir Henry Morgan to the sack of 
 Panama ; and he now carefully kept out of his sight, fearing 
 that this reformed Governor would hang him for his former 
 services. 
 
 The ambition of Alvaro was to put into execution the plans 
 he had long dreamed of, and which Paterson had matured, 
 concerning a vast system of commerce ; a system which 
 was to embrace all countries and their produce ; to acquire 
 a knowledge (without reference to distance) of where any 
 article was to be most cheaply procured, and in what part of 
 the world it could find the highest price. These points 
 ascertained, the intermediate questions of the cost and risk 
 of transport was of minor interest. The system was to have 
 its centre at Carthagena, and gradually to launch out into 
 the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, and along the sea-board of 
 both countries, until it comprised the world. 
 
 In furtherance of this great design, Alvaro had consi 
 derable wealth at his command ; Paterson great knowledge 
 and experience. The former was too generous and too just 
 not to acknowledge in his friend's qualifications an equivalent 
 to his own capital ; and the latter was too conscious of his 
 own disinterestedness and high object to feel the obligation 
 as a burden. Indeed, but for him, their commercial career 
 would probably have been very brief. Alvaro would fain 
 have bounded forward, and attempted to grapple with all 
 difficulties at once : the more cautious Scot insisted on care 
 fully pioneering, by deep thought, before action was allowed 
 to follow. Even among the generous and frank mercantile 
 community of Carthagena, Paterson would feel his way, 
 step by step, until he found each path that they were to 
 tread was secure ; and then he would freely allow Alvaro to 
 rush forward in it with an energy that astonished the languid 
 natives, and carried all before it. In stirring and incessant 
 action, the Moresco sought oblivion of the many sorrows 
 that preyed on his young heart. In intense thought and 
 speculation, the Paterson of Carthagena endeavoured to 
 forget the "Willie of the Lowlands, the temptation that had 
 almost shaken his plighted faith, and the manful absorption 
 
DABIEtf. 175 
 
 of his deeply-seated love. He always thought that he saw a 
 truer impulse of the heart of Alice in her acceptance of the 
 brilliant stranger, than in the effort she had made to win 
 back her first love, when he had been forced to renounce her. 
 He knew little of the sex; indeed, he knew but one; and 
 from such slight experience, how could he divine the truth 
 in the contradictory workings of a woman's fitful emotions ! 
 He could not understand, or even suspect, under what 
 various disguises love will hide, or how pride will induce it 
 to deny itself. 
 
 Perhaps it was well, in a business point of view, for the 
 two young partners, that their affections were thus anchored 
 on distant objects ; for otherwise the luxurious society of 
 Carthagena, and its proverbially beautiful and genial women, 
 might have unnerved them for devotion to the great task 
 they had set themselves, and which was now fully entered 
 upon. 
 
 Alternately, Alvaro and Paterson made long excursions 
 into the interior, and along the shores of the Pacific ; no 
 dangers daunted them ; no hardships could subdue their 
 energy. The jealousy of the Spanish king had hitherto 
 restrained all foreign enterprise, and preserved for Central 
 America all the mysteries that shroud an undiscovered 
 land. The old Indian roads were falling into ruin, and be 
 coming choked up with the rank vegetation that the alter 
 nate heavy rains and powerful sun engendered. Mighty 
 forests had already buried the magnificent old cities of the 
 Aztecs. The cacajou and the balsam-tree now harboured 
 brilliant flocks of the harat and the tulcan, in the court 
 yards of Palenque and Copan. The cedar-tree grew up 
 through the cedar roofs; the wild balsam, the tamarind, 
 and the cassia-tree, filled the ancient gardens, and restored 
 the reign of the forest, where it had long been overthrown. 
 The scorpion, the lizard, and the serpent alone inhabited the 
 palaces. 
 
 Eut neither forests, nor rivers, nor untamed savages could 
 bar the progress of Alvaro and his friend. "Wherever they 
 went, they left a link behind them, a connecting interest, 
 that ramified for thousands of miles, and found its centre in 
 Carthagena. The wealth which Alvaro had brought with 
 him into America, was laid out with liberal and wise 
 
176 PABIEtf. 
 
 lavishment. Not in mere mercantile articles for immediate 
 profit, but in subsidizing all the jealous but corrupt autho 
 rities, and rendering them unconsciously liberal in turn. 
 Naturalization was easily obtained, with all the privileges of 
 Spanish citizenship. Other advantages, which the true- 
 born Spaniard was too indolent to seek for or turn to 
 account, were still more easily conceded. Armed and well- 
 disciplined bands already waited the commands of Alvaro ; 
 and escorted his emissaries and their merchandize in safety 
 through savage tribes and savage wildernesses. 
 
 The intelligent and active mind of the young merchant 
 did not confine itself to the accustomed route of Cartha- 
 gena affairs. The gold of Mexico, the silver of Peru, the 
 pearls of the Grulf, indeed, found their way into his trea 
 suries, as well as into those of other merchants, who prepared 
 such costly stores for the great fair of Panama and the gal 
 leons of Spain. But the most remote and incongruous trea 
 sures were as easily sought and brought together by one 
 who acknowledged precedents only as finger-posts for bolder 
 enterprises. 
 
 Cinnamon from the Caraccas ; ambergris from the Baltic ; 
 fish from Newfoundland ; spices from the Moluccas ; ivory 
 from Ceylon ; diamonds from G-olconda ; nothing was too 
 remote, or too mean, or too costly, to be transferred to the 
 great merchant's stores. Gradually he extended his spheres 
 of action, and made all the great commercial capitals in the 
 world arenas for his enterprise. In some he failed to pro 
 cure the mere profit calculated on ; but his very failures 
 were sure to suggest some greater scheme, and, ultimately, 
 some grand success. In other instances, a new fountain of 
 wealth at once was opened, and began to pour its streams 
 into the ever-expanding reservoir of Carthagena. 
 
 The prosperity of Alvaro became proverbial ; his slightest 
 words were treasured as affording some clue to wealth ; his 
 movements were imitated, his ships were sought for. Many 
 a bold hand, however, was paralysed in attempting to wield 
 the smallest of his gigantic enterprises ; he stood alone, 
 unrivalled and unapproachable in his power of combination, 
 and in the enormous wealth which resulted from it. 
 
 Meanwhile Patersou, with a mind as active but of yet 
 wider speculation, was restlessly exploring the cities, soli- 
 
DAEIEtf. 177 
 
 tudes, seas, savannahs, shores, and mountains of the Tierra 
 Firma. He had built a summer-house on the spot whence 
 Balboa, 
 
 " Silent on a peak of Darien," 
 
 first beheld the Pacific Ocean. There he gazed on it rolling 
 beneath him in unbounded grandeur in sublime signifi 
 cance ; opening a wider sphere of action and enterprise 
 than yet had been conceived by mortal man. Beyond its 
 waters lay a great continent, and scattered richly amongst 
 them were innumerable islands, pregnant with all that can 
 render earthly life prosperous and resplendent. There, 
 sleeping beneath the waters, couched beneath the earth, 
 waving upon the trees, roaming through plains, or forests, 
 or snowy wildernesses, were all the richest and most 
 luxurious spoils of earth the means of diffusing wealth to 
 many, comfort to all. 
 
 One rocky ridge there is, which has not in recent times 
 been rediscovered, which commands a view of the shores on 
 either side of the isthmus. There the entranced speculator 
 stood and gazed. Primaeval forests, it is true, with impene 
 trable brakes and pestilential swamps, swarming with 
 terrible reptiles, barred the one ocean from the other. But 
 the barrier was not insuperable. "What is insuperable to 
 the mortal brain and hand that raised the wall of China, 
 that built the Pyramids, nay, that summoned up among the 
 abysses of those very forests on which Paterson then gazed 
 the magnificent lost cities of the Aztecs ? His .eagerly 
 dreaming eyes could already see two kindred ports on the 
 two great shores, with a broad causeway between them, 
 over which the commerce of two worlds rolled along in 
 stupendous ebb and flow. That lone and dreamy stranger 
 saw also in his vision, lines of quays extending along the 
 crystal waters of the tropics ; forests of masts reflected in 
 the waves, clouds of rich argosies, making populous the 
 horizons of both oceans. What was the Alexandria of arid 
 Africa compared to what the new emporium of two worlds 
 might become? 
 
 The mind of the dreamer expanded over such thoughts ; 
 it moulded and remodelled them until they became plans ; 
 those plans became a purpose; and, finally, the object of a 
 life. 
 
 X 
 
178 DAEIEN. 
 
 Nor let us think that in the midst of a worldly success, 
 which far exceeded the most golden dreams of his early 
 youth, Paterson neglected the philanthropic mission that 
 had first induced him to cross the seas. But in a bigoted 
 country, where his own presence was barely tolerated, he 
 found it impossible to attempt any of the reforms that he 
 aspired to. These he was obliged to refer to the period 
 when his schemes upon the isthmus were carried into effect, 
 and that thought lent a new stimulus to the project. Even 
 at Carthagena, he endeavoured, with national caution and 
 courage, to ameliorate the condition of the slaves; and 
 there came a day when even that abject people had an op 
 portunity of proving that they could be grateful. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 I know a lady fair to see, 
 
 Take care ! 
 She can both false and friendly be, 
 
 Beware ! Beware ! 
 
 Trust her not, 
 She is fooling thee I 
 
 She has two eyes, so soft and brown, 
 
 Take care ! 
 She gives a side glance and looks down, 
 
 Beware ! beware ! 
 
 Trust her not, 
 She is fooling thee ! 
 
 She has a bosom white as snow, 
 
 Take care ! 
 She knows how much it is best to show, 
 
 Beware ! beware ! 
 
 Hyperion. 
 
 THEKE are few scenes more interesting to an obseryant 
 mind than those which occur daily at the great wharfs 
 where foreign ships are laden ; and we can imagine its pic 
 turesque effect at a tropical port, such as Carthagena, where 
 several ships belonging to Alvaro are now lying. No longer 
 those great dark floating fabrics beat back the ocean's con 
 tinual assault ; no longer those tapering masts bend and 
 
DARIEtf. 179 
 
 creak under the weight of the storm. But internal commo 
 tion succeeds ; the hold is thrown open to the warm air ; 
 blocks creak and cranes groan beneath the weight of great 
 bales dislodged from their long resting-place. Half-naked 
 sailors heave at the wheel or windlass; swarthy porters 
 swagger to and fro with bended backs ; yellow-faced clerks, 
 with broad-brimmed hats and nankeen jackets, note down 
 the goods as they emerge from the ship, and are borne 
 away. Scents of all kinds, with all their associations, fill 
 the air ; musky odours and briny smells even iron, and 
 silk, and leather, are thus invisibly announced, and insen 
 sibly excite attention. Within the narrow-windowed store 
 houses, also, there are sounds of life ; tramping feet, strain 
 ing arms, commanding voices, scratching of pens ; there, 
 though unseen, is also life, and life's lot work, taskmaster- 
 ship, and slavery. 
 
 In the most remote part of the storehouse sat a tall, pale, 
 noble-looking man the master THE MERCHANT PRINCE. 
 There was the living centre, the moving spirit of all the 
 busy crowd without : of many a ship still far away, strug 
 gling with distant seas ; of earnest bargains, at that moment 
 being made, and grave arrangements, in many languages, 
 and in many a remote city of the earth. The sun never 
 set upon the business of his agents. In every hour of the 
 twenty-four, in some part or other of the world, men were 
 writing or speaking the name of Alvaro, the princely mer 
 chant of Carthagena. 
 
 His house was always open to travellers. In the times 
 we speak of, their visits were but few and far between. We 
 do not often meet with accounts of amateur wanderers in 
 the west in those days of danger. Among those whom 
 accident first sent adrift there, and whom a natural love of 
 travel instigated to persevere in its pursuit, the names of 
 Wafer and Dampier occupy a conspicuous place. The 
 "voyage" of the former seems now more like a romance 
 than most fictions that assume the title. 
 
 This enterprising man was welcomed heartily by Alvaro, 
 and Paterson seems to have formed a lasting friendship and 
 esteem for him. In after years, when the publication of 
 his travels had given him a name and fame, Wafer was con 
 sulted with respect to the details of the great Darien 
 .scheme, and he then bore out, to the letter, all the state 
 let 2 
 
180 DAEIEK. 
 
 inents made by Paterson. His arrival with Dampier was a 
 great incident'm Carthagena. "Wafer had lived for a long 
 time among the native Indians ; Dampier had lately inves 
 tigated the isthmus, and declared it could even then he 
 traversed in three days by way of Chiapo and Santa Maria. 
 
 The intelligence thus communicated gave a fresh impulse 
 to the schemes of the partners. The great fair of Panama, 
 held at the end of every eighteen months, at Portobello, 
 was approaching, and Paterson resolved to take that oppor 
 tunity of exploring the country between the Pacific and the 
 Atlantic sea-ports. He inquired of "Wafer if he knew in 
 what condition the buccaneers stood there, and whether 
 they were likely to attack the Spanish galleons then on 
 their voyage to Portobello. Wafer replied, 
 
 " I think they are in low condition at present ; they have 
 been denounced both by Trance and England, and many of 
 them have given up the trade. One of their most daring and 
 skilful leaders, too, was lately caught by the Indians and fly 
 blown, in revenge for some acts of violence he had committed 
 on their coasts. We saw him after that terrible execution ; a 
 miserable sight. They had bound him and a companion of 
 his to two cedar trees, and anointed them with honey ; 
 myriads of flies soon settled upon them, blackening them 
 from head to foot ; these flies and other insects slowly ate 
 their skins away, and, depositing their eggs within, these 
 were soon vivified, and the poor fellows died in fearfully- 
 prolonged suffering. The one was said to be the celebrated 
 Lawrence, or Laurent, as the French call him, and the 
 other was a Scotch sailor, who had only lately joined the 
 Brotherhood." 
 
 Paterson was deeply moved with this intelligence, and 
 inquired how it happened, that a man so powerful and 
 subtle could have fallen into the Indians' hands. 
 
 "I heard the story very indistinctly," Wafer replied; "but, 
 I understood that Lawrence had gone in a canoe to one of 
 the Caxones, it was supposed in search of buried treasure : 
 they were caught by a tornado, and driven upon the coast, 
 where they were too well known. They say, however, that 
 there were three of them, and as only two were put to 
 death, one must have escaped." 
 
 Paterson was shocked and ashamed to find that a strange 
 sense of pleasure mingled with, and, as it were, shone 
 
DARIEN. 181 
 
 through the dark horror that this story inspired. But 
 death is a sure shelter for the faults of those whom it has 
 deprived of erring sense and senses ; and Paterson only 
 thought of the murdered buccaneer as he appeared at 
 Sandilee, brave, brilliant, generous, and full of life. He 
 seemed to him, too, to have fallen in the attempt to dis 
 charge a trust ; for he well guessed that it was in search 
 of the fatal treasure that the pirate lost his life. 
 
 It was not till after a long debate with himself, that he 
 resolved to write to Alice. He informed her, as gently as 
 he could, that her betrothed was dead, and that he had 
 died in endeavouring to discharge (he did not say how 
 tardily) his promise to her father. He then added some 
 few lines regarding himself and his own position. He did 
 not venture to make any suit to her, but he gave her to 
 understand, as well as his timidity would permit, that his 
 affection for her had never altered ; but that, without pre 
 suming on any occurrences of the auld lang syne, he should 
 always consider it as a first duty, no less than the highest 
 privilege, to render any service to her that his utmost 
 efforts could perform. And so he ended; and committed 
 his letter to Wafer, who was waiting for the first oppor 
 tunity to return to Europe. 
 
 Meanwhile, the house of Alvaro prospered, and advanced 
 daily in wealth, consideration, and power. The superior 
 education and youthful energies of the two partners more 
 than atoned for their want of experience. They could 
 afford to commit some errors, and their talents often 
 turned even mistakes ultimately to good account. The 
 great scheme concerning the isthmus was never allowed 
 to slumber, but it was necessary first thoroughly to ex 
 plore the destined scene of its operation, and hence it was, 
 that Paterson had resolved to visit Portobello, and was 
 now making preparations for his voyage. His even and 
 regular mode of life presented a considerable contrast to 
 that of his equally energetic but more mercurial friend. 
 
 Sometimes Alvaro would entirely seclude himself from 
 society, and devote all the great powers of his mind to 
 private study ; at other times he applied himself solely to 
 the advancement of his business, which he looked on rather 
 as a curious problem than as a means to greater wealth. 
 Sometimes, however, his restlessness would take a social 
 
182 DAEIE^T. 
 
 turn, and vent itself in festivals, whose magnificence was 
 long remembered by the pale ladies of Carthagena with 
 wonder and delight. In all his moods, his staid friend and 
 partner could so far sympathize as to prevent estrange 
 ment ; though, at the same time, he acted as a sort of pen 
 dulum to prevent excess on one hand or the other. 
 
 It was on the occasion of a marriage between a young 
 Peruvian merchant and the daughter of his brother mer 
 chant, Don Felipo, that Alvaro gave an entertainment 
 which involved the young Scot in a romance that he little 
 contemplated. The bride was rich and fair, but a mere 
 child ; her kinswoman, who for some time had supplied the 
 place of her lost mother, was also young, but she enjoyed 
 the great privileges of a widow ; combining the indepen 
 dence of a matron with the attractions of a maid. Marina 
 Gronzaga was her virgin name, which she had resumed after 
 her very brief and not very happy wedlock. This last, 
 however, was only presumed, for nothing was with cer 
 tainty known of her earlier days, except that she then lived 
 with an old uncle at Campeachy ; on the sack of that city 
 by the buccaneers, she had escaped, after long wanderings, 
 by great courage and ingenuity to Carthagena. 
 
 Her admirable beauty, together with her romantic re 
 putation, her wit, and her inaccessibility, had gained her 
 numerous admirers. The ladies of Carthagena were seldom 
 accused of coldness, but Marina had hitherto kept at a dis 
 tance every individual of the sex which her experience had 
 perhaps warned her to eschew. Alvaro himself, as well as 
 most of those who beheld her, had at first been attracted 
 by this superb and haughty beauty, but his very superiority 
 of mind and person seemed the more to pique her disdain. 
 The Moresco, proud as herself and a good deal pre-occupied, 
 resigned her service with a careless smile. During his first 
 acquaintance with the widow, he had offered to arrange 
 some affairs for her at Portobello, and he now recommended 
 his grave friend as his substitute in her confidence. The 
 beautiful widow accepted the change with apparent plea 
 sure, and Paterson was introduced to her dangerous pre 
 sence. 
 
 The young Scot had, perhaps maliciously, been left unin 
 formed by his friend of the sort of person whom he was to 
 serve. His secluded habits had kept him a stranger to- 
 
DAEIEN. 183 
 
 society, and, except the puzzling page of Alice Graeme, 
 he was utterly unread and inexperienced in the mystic book 
 of woman's nature. He had simply understood from Don 
 Alvaro that he might be useful to a widow lady, in whom 
 his friend had taken much interest, and it was with a mind 
 full of philanthropy and attuned to sympathy with an 
 elderly widow's woe, that he ascended the white marble 
 steps which led to Marina's apartments. 
 
 Even the languid and dangerous climate of Carthagena 
 had been rendered luxurious by the sensuous Spaniards of 
 that time. Wide-spread verandahs, with gay-coloured 
 awnings, shaded the windows, and left a space where the 
 sea-breeze might cool and become fragrant, tangled in the 
 petals of a thousand flowers. In the court-yard a lofty 
 fountain flung its spray into the sunshine, and the evapo 
 ration caused a gentle current of air to flow through the 
 surrounding apartments. The palmetto spread its branches 
 over the roof, and rustled with every breath of wind created 
 by the musical fall of waters below. 
 
 Into this deliciously cool retreat the young Scot passed 
 from the scorching atmosphere without. A slave-girl, black 
 and beautiful as an ebony statue, received his name and 
 message; and in a few minutes more, a wide curtain of 
 curiously-woven cotton was drawn aside, and the man of 
 business passed through a screen of myrtle and orange 
 trees into the presence of his client. 
 
 Her apartment resembled a pavilion rather than a room ; 
 being on three sides supported only by pillars of polished 
 cedar. Facing that by which one entered from the vesti 
 bule, rose the fountain before described, which shed its 
 moisture on the white porcelain with which this parquet 
 was paved. At each corner stood a crystal vase, containing 
 gold and silver fish, and in the centre played a jet of per 
 fumed water. It was open towards the sea on one side and 
 the court-yard on the other. The upper end of the room 
 was furnished with a small marble table, and a very low 
 and wide couch, after the eastern fashion, placed against 
 the only solid wall, and this was lined with a great mirror ; 
 so that the occupant of the divan could behold the sea and 
 all its shipping reflected without any glare, through the 
 jalousies opposite. In that land of the sun, to overcome 
 
184 DAEIEN. 
 
 his tyranny and enjoy all the products of his power, seemed 
 the greatest exercise of taste and skill. 
 
 Far different from his old haunts by the Solway's stormy 
 shore were these scenes, and all the sensations they 
 awakened in the young Scot. Even in Carthagena, his 
 own dwelling was of the simplest and least luxurious con 
 struction, and it was now, for the first time, that he felt 
 the enervating influences of such appeals to the sense as 
 surrounded him in Marina's fanciful abode. Every air he 
 breathed was laden with odours, every sound was musical, 
 every sight was beautiful. 
 
 As he gazed around him, a female figure glided in. It 
 was enveloped in a cloud of white and almost transparent 
 gauze, but the gracefulness of the form within was revealed 
 by its ease and majesty of movement the true Andalusian 
 gait. It was Marina herself. As soon as she had sat down, 
 or rather sunk into the cushions of the wide divan, she 
 unveiled, and fixed her brilliant eyes in astonishment on 
 the Scot. She had expected to see an English merchant of 
 the usual sort, with a bald head, wrinkled and sallow cheeks, 
 and huge spectacles. She found in her new adviser a figure 
 tall and upright, crowned by a comely head, that had never 
 been bowed even in thought by one unworthy conscious 
 ness. Abundant but fine hair fell away from a white ex 
 pansive forehead, and finely-arched brows shaded eyes of 
 the clearest blue. Energy was legible in the nostril, but 
 the almost feminine sweetness of the mouth showed that it 
 was energy rather of a passive than of an active kind. 
 
 Such was the aspect of the young Scot, who stood for 
 some moments gazing on the beautiful Spaniard with a 
 simple and unaffected look of surprise and admiration, 
 which was far more flattering to her than the most courtly 
 compliments. But soon her visitor's prepared expression 
 of countenance changed to something like anxiety and 
 trouble. That woman's glowing beauty fell on him like a 
 sun-stroke ; a vague idea of delightful danger, of painful 
 pleasure, seized him. He averted his eyes, and, with the 
 blood mounting to his pale forehead, he expressed some 
 faltering suspicion that he had made a mistake that it 
 was with a widow lady he sought the honour of an inter 
 view on business connected with her bereaved situation. 
 
DABIEtf. 185 
 
 Marina smiled half scornfully, but seeing her guest still 
 standing in embarrassed silence, she burst into a peal of 
 laughter, that rang like merry music in the young mer 
 chant's anxious ears. 
 
 " Senor Escocez!" she exclaimed, at length; " you ex 
 pected to find in me an old woman in black weeds ; I 
 expected to behold in you an elderly cavalier, with bent 
 back and horrible bald head, or still more horrible peruke. 
 I suspect that your magnificent friend, Don Alvaro, has 
 prepared us for this mutual mistake ; let us revenge our 
 selves on him by acting on our original belief, instead of 
 our present discoveries. Draw near, then, kind old friend, 
 and repose upon this sofa ; my sense of hearing is not what 
 it used to be, and your venerable limbs no doubt require 
 rest." 
 
 The Scot, for the first time in his life, felt bewildered, 
 but passively and in silence obeyed. After a short pause, 
 the Senora tapped his arm with her folded fan, and de 
 manded abruptly 
 
 " When do you sail for that horrid Campeachy ?" 
 
 " As soon as soon as possible," faltered the merchant. 
 
 "Nay, nonsense," rejoined Marina; "Don Alvaro's 
 grand banquet, and my cousin's marriage, are not to take 
 place for two days. You can't go until after that." 
 
 " Lady," replied the Scot, solemnly, " I have little to do 
 with such things. I am but a humble man of business, not 
 of pleasure ; and I set myself certain tasks which it is my 
 only and undivided object to accomplish." 
 
 " And is it possible, Senor Escocez, that you, so young, 
 have a heart so entirely devoted to the acquisition of mere 
 wealth?" 
 
 The Scot now looked up boldly into the Senora's face. 
 "I do not care for wealth, lady," said he; "else I were 
 indeed unhappy. Even as that fountain is cold amidst the 
 burning sunbeams, lam poor, though the medium of golden 
 millions." 
 
 " Nay, now I know you jest, for Don Alvaro told me that 
 you were his dearest friend and only partner." 
 
 " I will not force my confidence upon you, lady ; but 
 what I say is true, whatever may be the generous and mis 
 taken belief of Don Alvaro. I came to this Western World 
 with far different views than those of avarice. I brought 
 
3 86 DAEIEtf. 
 
 hither many hopes and many resolutions ; but the strongest 
 of all these last was to touch no farthing of this damning 
 gold, save such as had been purified by honest earning, and 
 purchased by my own exertions." 
 
 " Very strange !" exclaimed Marina, almost in soliloquy. 
 " He talks more like one of the old romances than like a 
 rational creature; and yet it pleases me. Senor," she 
 added, with a short pause, and with some feeling, " have 
 you left no one in your own country for whom, if not for 
 yourself, you desire to win wealth ?" 
 
 " None, lady!" replied the Scot, with a sigh. "But 1 
 have left there thousands of my countrymen for whom I 
 hope to obtain a nobler benefit an honourable path from 
 penury and care to prosperity and ease. But, pardon me, 
 I have no right and no desire to intrude my private con 
 cerns upon your ear. I wait to learn your commands for 
 Portobello, whither I must soon depart." 
 
 The lady sighed and was silent ; she was not thinking of 
 Portobello or of dollars just then. She had heard, for the 
 first time in her life, a man speak nobly, loftily, and earn 
 estly of others' welfare. In the depths of her heart she 
 found some echo to that strange language ; but still she 
 felt more interested in the thinker than in his thoughts. 
 
 " This climate is really too oppressive," she said, " for 
 prolonged visits of ceremony. Excuse me if I try to obtain 
 a little repose for my frame, w r hile my mind attempts to 
 grapple with business." 
 
 So saying, as she rose, one of the living ebony statues 
 presented her polished shoulder for her to lean upon, as she 
 moved towards a sort of hammock, such as sailors use, but 
 very different in texture, and richly fringed with silken 
 tassels to divert the flies. Reclined at full length on that 
 moving couch, and rocked by her slaves to and fro with an 
 almost imperceptible motion, the Senora seemed to find the 
 repose she sought ; her large lustrous eyes alone betrayed 
 restlessness, as they sometimes pensively gazed upon the 
 sea, but on the slightest pretext beamed full on her embar 
 rassed visitor. He stood with folded arms, leaning against 
 an adjoining pillar, endeavouring to look upon the floor, 
 though occasionally thinking himself obliged to turn his 
 eyes towards the undulating hammock, when its fair occu 
 pant addressed him. 
 
DABlEtf. 187 
 
 " I think I can now give some account of my affairs," 
 slie said, languidly and carelessly. " At the time that those 
 terrible buccaneers plundered Campeachy, about three 
 years ago, I was living there with a dear old uncle, who fell 
 a victim to their barbarity. When the assault first took 
 place, and our troops were beaten back, we saw from our 
 terrace the pirates pursuing them. An attempt to parley 
 was made, but it was too late. The wild sailors, begrimed 
 with dust and blood, were already clambering over the walls 
 with their swords between their teeth. My poor uncle 
 exclaimed, ' Santa Maria ! it is all over we are lost ! My 
 child, I have only life to lose, and not much of that. 
 You are in yet greater danger, and I charge you to fly by 
 the Vega gate, lowards the logwood stores ; they will leave 
 them to the last.* If you ever escape to Carthagena, you 
 will find some property of mine in Don Felipo's hands ; it 
 is yours. But my chief wealth lies buried at Portobello, in 
 the spot indicated by these tablets ; it also is yours. Now 
 fly. and leave me to my prayers.' 
 
 " I tried to stay with him, but he sternly drove me forth, 
 and I soon found myself borne along by a crowd of fugi 
 tives through the streets, and away into the country. Be 
 fore we had got fa,r, I could see the smoke and flames 
 rising from the ruins that lately were our homes. I need 
 not tell you through what trials and disasters I passed ; 
 having been captured at last by the leader of the buc 
 caneers. After a long detention, however, I escaped, and 
 found the refuge I now enjoy with my good kinsman 
 Eelipo." 
 
 Here the Senora paused, as if she hesitated how to ex 
 plain something. But she soon went on, and thus con 
 cluded : " I cared little for the buried treasure at Porto 
 bello as long as my property here lasted ; but it is now 
 almost gone. Eelipo recommended me to consult the all- 
 powerful Don Alvaro as to the recovery of my poor uncle's 
 treasure, and he, it seems, has referred me to you. Now, 
 therefore, my fortunes are in your hands: my kinsman 
 would not, if he dared, go to that fatal place, where the 
 demon of pestilence seems to guard its treasures. Not 
 
 * This, in effect, the buccaneers did., and afterwards made a bonfire 
 of the logwood in their drunken orgies, in honour of Louis XIV, / 
 This fuel was worth half a million of money. 
 
188 DAEIEF. 
 
 for worlds would I revisit those scenes of horror. There 
 are few whom I could trust with unknown treasure ; but if 
 you will generously undertake my cause, I need only to 
 look in your countenance to be assured that it is safe." 
 
 The Scot only bowed to the compliment, and saying that 
 he must then retire, begged to know when the Seiiora would 
 favour him with further information on the subject of his 
 intended search. 
 
 "At Don Alvaro's fete," replied the lady, with a languid 
 voice but earnest eye ; and the merchant no longer objected 
 to that arrangement. 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 There, where your argosies with portly sail, 
 Like signers, and rich burghers of the flood, 
 Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, 
 Do overpeer the petty traffickers 
 That curtsey to them, do them reverence 
 As they fly by them on their woven wings. 
 
 SHAKSPEEE. 
 
 Soft eyes look'd love to eyes that spake again, 
 And all went merry as a marriage bell. 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 THE day of the fiesta was come. Many a fair bosom 
 beat high as its owner thought of the coming pleasure ; to 
 some, perhaps, not pleasure only, but the fate of a life 
 seemed involved in that event. " There would he surely be ; 
 and in s wide a space, and so great a crowd, and with so 
 many attractions round, surely there would be opportunity" 
 for what ? Ah ! such questions are only to be answered 
 by the future. That future is now impending, now close 
 at hand. Ruby lips are murmuring, " How can we lull our 
 senses into indifference, and subside into the soft siesta ? 
 Impossible ! We shall look pale, very pale to-night ; but 
 then our eyes will light up the brighter ; and who cares for 
 aught but the passionate thoughts that they reveal?" 
 
 So thought many a Senora and Senorita on the day that 
 ushered in Alvaro's fiesta. 
 
DAEIEN. 189 
 
 The palacio of the Merchant Prince was arrayed with all 
 the brilliance that a cultivated Oriental imagination could 
 dictate to unbounded and unstinted wealth. The sun was 
 not to look upon the festival, for who could dare to en 
 counter aught but labour under his tyrant reign within the 
 tropics ? But evening came, with all the magnificence of 
 the starry sky which is only displayed in that glowing cli-. 
 mate. Then care and business go to rest, and pleasure 
 wakes. 
 
 The palacio was but one story high, but it was propor- 
 tionably widely spread. From the garden entrance an 
 alameda, or avenue of stately trees, led to a wide circular 
 space, in the centre of which a fountain scattered its van 
 ishing diamonds over a border of fragrant flowers. A 
 coloured awning, extended from tree to tree, made one vast 
 aisle of the whole avenue ; and coloured lamps, not con 
 fusedly scattered, but each assembled in masses of kindred 
 colour, gave every variety of changing hues, while millions 
 of fire-flies glanced to and fro, as if ministering to the 
 more stationary lights. From the alameda ran quiet pas 
 sages, scarcely lighted, or left altogether to the moon: 
 some of these led out upon the open garden, some into 
 small kiosks, paved with porcelain. Gigantic slaves, mag 
 nificently dressed, carried about vases of iced sherbet and 
 snow, sweetened with every delicate flavour, from the pe 
 rishable mangosteen to the familiar vanilla. "Wines from 
 every precious grape in Europe presented themselves on 
 rustic tables. Music, in subdued tones, was heard, now 
 here, now there ; but never in the more shadowy places, 
 where many guests reclined on Persian carpets, reposing 
 their senses to enable them to take fresh draughts of de 
 light. "Within the palacio, no one could recognise its 
 former state. Some of the spacious apartments were con 
 verted into bowers of beautiful flowering plants, woven 
 together with Indian art. Some rooms were hung with 
 ricli crimson draperies, and lighted with warm coloured 
 lamps, whose glow made the palest cheek look lovelier than 
 the roses that festooned the marble pillars. Other apart 
 ments, pervaded with a greenish lustre, suited those whose 
 thoughts were pensively inclined. Beyond these, a vast 
 saloon was draperied with shadowy silks of uncertain hue, 
 set off with the plumage of the flamingo and the tulcan, 
 
190 DAHIEN. 
 
 which seemed to nestle in its folds. Tet farther on, in a 
 perfect blaze of light, was the banqueting hall, open all 
 round to the evening breeze, and supported only on cedar 
 pillars, and domed with invisible gauze. Beneath it, gold 
 and silver gleamed and glowed in every conceivable form 
 over a great circular table, covered with snow-white porce 
 lain instead of damask ; and in the midst of it, among fruits 
 and flowers, a fountain of iced and perfumed water flashed 
 and sparkled in the gold-reflected light. Meats, the most 
 delicate, set off by the most refined art, and wines of all 
 sorts, from the rich vines of Shiraz to the native " pulque," 
 were abundantly spread and constantly renewed. All 
 round, outside the banqueting hall, the full moon shone 
 down through tall cedar and palmetto trees, affording a 
 deeply-striking contrast to the splendid glare and glow 
 within. All along, through the suite of various apartments, 
 music from no visible lip or instrument floated on the fra 
 grant air, and afforded, as it might be, an accompaniment 
 to the thought that each scene inspired, from soft senti 
 mental flute breathings, to the loud fanfaronnade of shawms 
 and kettle-drums and trumpets. Yet so vast was the 
 palace, that neither sight nor sound of one description 
 interfered with the harmony of all. 
 
 But words are wasted on such scenes, and only display 
 their own poverty in attempting the most feeble sketch 
 of that, which, seen blended in one magnificent mass, might 
 have won admiration from Simeon Stylites. 
 
 No Simeons or ascetics, however, were the Carthagenians 
 who thronged the palacio of Alvaro. "Warm-hearted ima 
 ginative Epicureans rather, whose alternately ardent and 
 languid natures now lent themselves freely and unreservedly 
 to the pleasure of the passing hour ; plunging into enjoy 
 ment like a sea-bird among the waves, and revelling there 
 with a serene sort of abandon such as no northern host has 
 ever been able to inspire in his guests. 
 
 Some were masked, some undisguised, some were mag 
 nificently arrayed, some dressed in the most perfect 
 simplicity ; some danced the majestic but expressive dances 
 of old Spain ; others, roused by excitement into activity, 
 performed the more lively dances introduced from other 
 countries. Many sat round the gaming-tables, forgetful of 
 all but the fleeting chances developed by cards or dice. 
 
DABIEtf. 191 
 
 Some lounged slowly away towards the quiet gardens in 
 couples; and often might be seen the wide-cloaked Spaniard, 
 like a great vampire bat, hovering near his Inez, and no 
 doubt, like that subtle phlebotomist, lulling all apprehension 
 by soothings that converted any vague sense of pain, into 
 pleasure. Some guests were formed into parties, asking for 
 news, and congratulating themselves that there was none. 
 The lord of the feast moved about from group to group with 
 graceful courtesy and kindly greetings ; making each guest 
 feel more at ease, and as' if he himself were the most 
 honoured, or she the most admired. All were occupied, all 
 social, except one. Tinwald wandered with folded arms 
 alone through the fairylike scenes ; he felt that he had no 
 more in common with them, than had the disturbed birds 
 in the gilded aviary which bounded one of the broad garden 
 walks. As the dying gladiator from his pain, so he was 
 from his pleasure, wiled away to thoughts of his humble 
 home by the sad Solway's distant waves. His sombre 
 thoughts led him insensibly towards the arcades of trees 
 which, though silvered by the moonlight, seemed dark con 
 trasted with the brilliant glare that lighted up the dancing 
 groups and the gaming-tables close to the palacio. 
 
 " Truly," he muttered to himself, " we rather convey our 
 impressions to the things around us than receive from them 
 a colouring. In yonder soft music I hear the voice of 
 Alice ; in those fountains I hear the wash of the Solway on 
 the shingles ; nay, in those shrieking shawms and stern 
 trumpets, I find recalled the fate of poor Lawrence rest 
 his soul ! " As the Scot thus communed with his own 
 thoughts he sauntered slowly on, gazing at the stars ; the 
 quick rustle of a fan aroused him from his meditations ; it 
 touched his arm the Senora Marina stood before him. 
 
 Beauty is never so beautiful as by moonlight ; the voice 
 is never so sweet and subtly penetrating as in such softly- 
 stilly nights; especially if there be the vague hum of 
 crowds and confused faint music afar off to contrast with it. 
 Marina knew well her power, and knew it to be most 
 powerful at such a time. She felt attracted towards the 
 melancholy Scot, cold or diffident as he seemed to be. She 
 had resolved to make him feel for her, if he had never felt 
 before, and she was not displeased to see him start when he 
 beheld her. 
 
192 DAEIEK. 
 
 " Senor Escocez," she said: "I seel do not interrupt 
 you in any hospitable duty. You remember you promised 
 to take some instructions from me ; your excellent kindness 
 cannot have forgotten it. And they tell me you sail to 
 morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes, lady, as soon as the morning land-breeze will fill 
 our sails." 
 
 "So soon!" exclaimed Marina, in a tone that lingered 
 longer in the Scot's ear than he conscientiously approved. 
 " Well ! let us rest on this mass of carpet. Yonder mag 
 nificence, and all such pageants, weary, if they do not in 
 toxicate one. I have gone through it all, too, with the 
 bride and bridegroom of to-morrow. I have eaten and 
 drunk and danced and played faro (how recklessly that tall 
 black mask does fling about his gold, and how coolly he 
 piles it up all around him !) I am tired, and for sympathy 
 sake I want to tire you. Sit down, I tell you. You call 
 yourself a man of business, yet you hesitate to receive your 
 instructions. There ; you need not sit quite so stiffly, or 
 you might as well be standing. Now; here, in the first 
 place, is the tablet containing the clue by which you are to 
 find this poor treasure. And if you lose it, remember there 
 is a path leading behind the church of San Lorenzo, up the 
 hill, by a fuchsia hedge, to a ruined fountain. North of 
 
 the fountain Ah ! did you hear some one near ? No ! 
 
 Well, never mind ; you have the tablet, and we will talk 
 of something better than this sordid treasure. Ah me ! it 
 is to be so sought. Do tell me, dear Escocez, have you 
 ever sought for anything more precious still ? Nay, don't 
 be frightened. I did not mean to be inquisitive ; it was 
 only to give you an opportunity of talking." 
 
 "Lady," replied Tinwald, timidly, but with awakened 
 interest, "I know not how to talk in words suitable to you. 
 I am but a plain man " 
 
 " So much the better ; then speak plainly. Do people 
 ever love in the cold country that you come from?" 
 
 " They do, lady ! " rejoined the Scot, with an earnestness 
 that, alas ! was not all for Alice, though he thought it was ; 
 " they love in that cold distant land, lady, with a fervour 
 and truth and faith, that it would be well if they felt for 
 things on high." 
 
 " I don't believe it. I don't believe it ! " said the Senora. 
 
DAEIEN. 193 
 
 " At least, I don't believe it of the men. Man ever seeks 
 to economize his passion, and keep it within due bounds, 
 and all that. But woman, in the warmth of her noontide 
 love, scorns such cold calculating reserve, and delights to 
 lavish upon him she loves all, all that she possesses far 
 more than man could ever, even if he would, bestow! 
 With woman, love is indeed a passion ; with you it is but 
 an art. Is it not so ? Do not wait to make phrases about 
 it, but tell me. Is it not is it not so ? " 
 
 "There never was any art in mine!" replied Tinwald, 
 with truthful simplicity. 
 
 " Then you have loved ! " exclaimed the Senora, fixing 
 her large dark lustrous eyes on his, with a power of ex 
 pression that made him turn away, as if he could not bear 
 their intense brightness. 
 
 " I dare not answer such a question here," he replied, 
 with an instinctive attempt at gallantry that surprised 
 himself. At the same time he rose and declared that he 
 must take his leave : the stars were already fading in the 
 sky, and he had much to do. Marina, too, rose languidly, 
 and accompanied him towards the gaming-tables, then an 
 indispensable accompaniment of every merrymaking. It 
 seemed as if the tall black mask, of whom Marina had 
 spoken, had only just resumed his seat as they drew near 
 the table ; for immediately there was a renewed stir among 
 the players, and pocketed gold was once more dragged into 
 action to renew its dangerous vicissitudes. The mask 
 played as before, almost recklessly he lost largely, but he 
 won still more. At last, rising from the table suddenly, he 
 bowed courteously to his late companions and withdrew, 
 without having uttered a word in Paterson's hearing. 
 Soon afterwards, most of the other guests took their leave. 
 
 Tinwald and Alvaro were walking apart in deep and 
 earnest conversation. Two or three groups still held 
 together and strove to persuade themselves that it was yet 
 too early to depart ; and Marina, who had joined the pale 
 and weary bride-elect, endeavoured to convince her that 
 she ought to remain to the latest ; especially as her intended 
 bridegroom was still just finishing a "last game," which 
 had apparently been renewed a dozen times. But the fes 
 tival was over; over, with all its triumphs, bitterness, 
 
194 DAEIEN. 
 
 joys, and sorrow. Every such fete, however carelessly 
 spoken of, may be considered a pitched battle in the cam 
 paign of life. To the veterans it makes little difference ; 
 but to the young recruits of the social army it is a great 
 event ushered in with heart-beatings, and high hopes and 
 latent fears ; encountered with an excitement that renders 
 deaf to danger ; everything unregarded until everything is 
 gone by ; the sound of music deadening every sense of 
 qpain ; bright eyes flashing, words dealt out recklessly all 
 is over now ! 
 
 Marina, who thought that she had triumphed, felt like a 
 conqueror on that bloodless field of battle. She moved 
 among the decaying flowers, the sunk and glimmering 
 lights, with slow steps and thoughtful brow. On the con 
 fusedly-chalked floors, an hour before, bright bounding life 
 had swarmed the beautiful, the plain, the high-born and 
 the plebeian had gathered there. There, the long-desired 
 silk had gleamed beneath its precious but unnoticed lace : 
 there, the gauze had spread its finely-woven nets, and not 
 in vain ; their eyes had gleamed with an expression that 
 words did not dare to utter, and hands been daringly 
 clasped that did not know whether to shrink from, or re 
 turn the magnetic pressure. There, in that familiar room 
 in the morning to be trodden as usual by the feet of 
 slaves had hearts been given, and hearts been betrayed, 
 all the most eventful incidents of woman's life had there 
 found an arena. But the struggle was now over. Even she, 
 the conqueror, must withdraw : and the palacio of Alvaro 
 was left in all its picturesque confusion to its usual occupants. 
 
 As the day dawned, Alvaro and his friend were still 
 pacing up and down a broad walk that looked out upon the 
 sea. A slight rustle of the awnings told that the land 
 breeze had awakened, and warned Tinwald to depart. His 
 ship, the Buenaventura, lay with loosened sails near the 
 palace walls, like one of Claude's exquisite creations, half 
 light, half shadow in the dawn : and already, through " the 
 Bocca," a small 'Mudian* vessel was seen steering for the 
 
 * A name applied by sailors to very fast-sailing boats of the Ber 
 muda rig, viz. one tall raking mast, stepped in the bows : the sail sets 
 almost in the form of a pyramid ; it is admirably adapted for naviga 
 tion in those seas. 
 
DAEIEtf. 195 
 
 sea, while the sounds of awakening life were heard along 
 the shore. 
 
 Tinwald hastened on board ; Andreas accompanying him, 
 to be restored to his native hills. The ship moved slowly 
 from her station, and gradually as she felt the breeze, 
 assumed a livelier motion and passed out into the sea ; the 
 little 'Mudian looking already like a mere speck on the 
 horizon. Tinwald's first impulse was to examine the tablet 
 that Marina had committed to his care. Enclosed with it 
 was a beautiful miniature of its giver, set with diamonds, 
 on which the Scot gazed long and steadfastly, only, as he 
 thought, to see if it was really like. It wanted nothing but 
 life and size and fragrance, and a warm breath and sweet 
 words, to be herself. He at length turned to the tablet. 
 The directions were given with great care ; in those days, 
 when there were no banks and scarcely any security, vast 
 quantities of treasure were thus buried. As the life of its 
 owner was also so uncertain, and the clues to the burial- 
 places were kept profoundly secret, the greater part was 
 probably lost. There are few islands, or remote places on 
 the shores of the isthmus, that have not legends of wealth 
 lying hidden in the earth. The directions ran thus : 
 
 " Behind the church of San Lorenzo, path towards the 
 north, fuchsia hedge ; broken fountain ; carved lion in a 
 line with two palmettos ; one hundred paces on, triangular 
 stone ; from sharp angle, through the jungle, three hundred 
 paces ; a fallen tree ; a copper ring." 
 
 CHAPTEB XI. 
 
 Full oft I trode the magic scene, and marked the wondrous hoard 
 Of works of arts and industry from every region pour'd ; 
 I saw from earth's remotest bounds the way-worn traveller come, 
 To scan the treasured stores, and bear the news to distant home. 
 
 The Exhibition. A. SlODART. 
 
 PUEETE-BELLO, or the Beautiful Harbour, was also, by a 
 dismal antithesis, called the " Spaniard's Grave," from the 
 deadly influences that lurked beneath its loveliness. Never- 
 
 TS 2 
 
196 DAEIEN. 
 
 tlieless this whited sepulchre was once stately and proud in 
 its prosperity, as it is now picturesque in its ruin and 
 
 Columbus himself selected the site of the future city 
 a natural amphitheatre on the declivity of a mountain, em 
 bracing in its bold sweep a magnificent harbour which is 
 almost calm in the wildest tornado. It is so clear that, 
 when leaning over its waters, you can discern sea-monsters 
 roaming through their subaqueous groves, and among the 
 coral cliffs that project from the silvery sands far down be 
 low; while on the surface are reflected every feature of 
 the varied landscape around, the remains of the old city, 
 and the scattered dwellings that compose the present 
 village. 
 
 Portobello has now, as ever, an evil name. ]STo Euro 
 pean lingers there an hour longer than his necessities com 
 pel him. No child born beneath its fatal sky survives: 
 domestic animals perish under the same influences, and 
 even flowers transplanted hither soon fade and die ; the 
 native reptiles alone voluntarily inhabit these shattered 
 haunts of men, the ruins in which Yernon's artillery have 
 long since laid the city. 
 
 At the time when Paterson visited Portobello, it had 
 already lost much of its original importance and strength. 
 Morgan's sack of the city in 1670 had proved fatal to its 
 prosperity ; and it was now only repeopled once in the 
 year, for the great fair that received its title from the 
 isthmus. 
 
 The fair of Panama was very singular in its origin, orga 
 nization, and the appearance it presented. It was the great 
 mart of the " Spanish Indies ; " and into its brief space was 
 compressed all the commercial transactions of the year be 
 tween Spain and her flourishing colony. By great foresight 
 and careful a rangement the produce of Peru and the Pa 
 cific shores was conveyed to Panama, so as to be transferred 
 by mules and the river Chagres to Portobello, about the 
 period of the arrival of the Spanish galleons from Europe. 
 These ships, strongly armed and richly laden with the pro 
 duce of the Old World, arrived with wonderful regularity 
 at Portobello. In a long sequence of years, there appears 
 to have been no failure, and but few delays in their passage 
 westward. Not so, however, on their return homeward, 
 
DABIEN. 197 
 
 when they were the favourite game of the buccaneers, and 
 the many other enemies of Spain. The course of the 
 galleons was bound down by the strictest orders ; and that 
 course was better known to those who waited for them, in 
 such ambush as the seas afford, than to their own pilots. 
 Therefore every precaution was taken to render these great 
 merchantmen formidable ; and they frequently not only de 
 fended themselves successfully, but took prizes on their 
 homeward way. 
 
 Paterson's object in visiting Portobello was, as we have 
 seen, twofold ; the exploring of the route thence to Panama, 
 in furtherance of his great isthmian scheme ; and the 
 secondary purpose of securing such articles brought by the 
 galleons from Europe, as the Panama merchants were not 
 prepared to buy, according to the law provided in such 
 cases. To these two objects was now added the Senora 
 Marina's delicate commission. For this reason he did not 
 share in the disappointment of his crew, when, entering the 
 noble harbour of Portobello, they found its surface un 
 broken by a single ship. Everything, however, betokened 
 expectation of their arrival. The shore was covered with 
 temporary buildings. New awnings were stretched over 
 mouldering houses. The ruined castles that commanded 
 the narrow entrance to the harbour were manned for the 
 occasion, and guns peered through their broken embrazures. 
 The gaudy banner of Spain flaunted its scarlet aid gold 
 over the dilapidated castle ; and a suddenly-created village 
 of tents and huts, roofed with broad palmetto leaves, almost 
 filled up the circuit of the old city. 
 
 It was the hour of siesta when Tinwald landed. The sun 
 was fiercely blazing on the varied scene, where there was 
 no sign or sound of any living thing. Even the banners 
 hung motionless, for the very air was asleep. But the 
 hardy Scot strode on through the echoing streets ; on by the 
 church of San Lorenzo, beneath the motionless foliage of 
 the trees ; on through the scorched unrustling grass, and 
 up the mountain's steepy side, with a still quickened step. 
 "What could instigate him to such unnatural exertion ? 
 Earnest he always was in every action, but he was calm 
 withal. Now there was passionate energy in his gait and 
 bearing. 
 
 Oh, subtle power of beauty! hadst thou, lightning-like, 
 
198 DABIEN. 
 
 struck that heart whose very steeledness had attracted the 
 fatal fire ? Was it thine electric spirit that thrilled through 
 every fibre of that strong man's frame, and every organ of 
 his imagination ? If so he was unconscious of the spell that 
 was upon him. In his own belief there was but one woman 
 upon earth who could influence his soul, and -she was far 
 away; distant but distinct; pure, and bright, and cold. 
 How was it then, that those dark eyes, full of gleaming, 
 dreamy light, were so often before him ? Why did those 
 crimson lips, yea, and the very warmth of their breathing, 
 intrude themselves on his memory, when he only tried to 
 remember the commission that they gave ? Why, when 
 he looked round for the broken fountain, did he almost 
 expect to see beside it that softly-rounded and majestic 
 form? 
 
 Answer thou, whose fidelity has never been tested ; thou 
 who knowest not whether it be weak or strong. Such a 
 one as thou mayest say that the young Scot had found a 
 new love. If so, it was such love as the sailor bears to the 
 storm that speeds him forward, it may be to his doom. If 
 a suspicion ever crossed his mind, that Marina's dark spell 
 was upon him, he shuddered, and prepared himself to 
 wrestle with the danger. 
 
 Whatever was his motive, he still pressed up against the 
 mountain's side ; zealous to accomplish his task in this, the 
 stillest hour, perhaps, that might elapse, before the world 
 beneath him awoke to pleasure, or business, or curiosity. 
 He now found himself by the fuchsia hedge ; its perishable 
 blossoms were still hanging there, as noted by the dead 
 merchant long years before. Beyond it lay the designated 
 path, and then the slow trickle of water soon met the tra 
 veller's ear. The fountain was still living ; still shaded by 
 tall palmetto trees. The lion, carved in stone, still lay in a 
 line with two of those trees. Measuring a hundred paces 
 by that line,, the seeker found a triangularly-shaped stone, 
 quite overgrown with rank vegetation. Thick jungle 
 surrounded the spot, and it was with difficulty that the 
 searcher pressed on in the direction assigned by the acute 
 angle of the stone. At length he reached the withered 
 stem, and close beside it was the prostrate tree, beneath 
 which he discovered the copper ring. 
 
 Beyond this there was no attempt at concealment. The 
 
DAEIEX. 199 
 
 ring was attached to a circular lid of the same metal, about 
 a foot and a half in diameter. It appeared to cover a 
 cylinder of the same dimensions ; which proved, on further 
 inspection, to be constructed in sliding pieces, like a tele 
 scope, doubtless to facilitate its carriage. It extended to the 
 depth of several feet, and was filled to the very brim with 
 packages of cotton, each sealed, and inscribed with certain 
 cyphers. Having carefully replaced the lid, and rolled over 
 it the withered trunk, Tinwald rose to depart, congratu 
 lating himself that he had Andreas to rely upon to assist 
 in the transport of the treasure. As he turned, however, 
 from his task, he heard a rustle in the jungle ; instinctively 
 he grasped his pistol, but perceiving that it was a human 
 figure, he returned the weapon to his belt. It did not 
 require a moment's hesitation to decide him whether wealth 
 was worth a human life. The stranger now stepped for 
 ward, masked as he was at Don Alvaro's fiesta (for it was 
 the same). 
 
 " Yours," he said, quietly, and in Spanish, " is true cou 
 rage ; and like true courage it has proved your safety. Had 
 you presented that pistol you had died. We must have 
 another look at your treasure, however, and if only for your 
 satisfaction, we will count it." 
 
 So saying, the stranger kicked away the fallen tree, 
 plucked off the lid, and soon tossed out thirteen of the 
 cotton packages. 
 
 "Look you," said he, "there are no more. Now, I 
 shall take one as my commission, and I want it urgently 
 for the present, the rest is entirely at your excellency's 
 disposition." 
 
 Paterson, though backward to shed blood, was not with 
 out some Scottish ire, after all ; and he now boldly con 
 fronted his unwelcome visitor. 
 
 " That property," he exclaimed, " is not mine to dispose 
 of, nor shall you touch it whilst I live!" 
 
 He stepped towards the stranger, to lay hands upon him, 
 but the latter retiring more quickly, snatched a lasso from 
 beneath his cloak, and cast it with a sudden jerk. Its in 
 evitable coil circled for one moment round the Scot, and 
 quickly was drawn together with strangling tightness. The 
 stranger then easily flung him to the ground, secured his 
 arms with half a dozen knots, and politely assisted him to 
 
200 DAE1E2T. 
 
 rise. Red with shame and anger, the Scot was thus forced 
 to remain passive, whilst the stranger leisurely replaced 
 the twelve packages, the lid, and the fallen tree. Tinwald 
 was then conducted out of the jungle, down the mountain, 
 and close to the city suburbs. There his persecutor un 
 bound him, warned him, in a mocking manner, not to give 
 notice of his adventure to the governor of Panama, or his 
 officers, and then disappeared in a crowd that was passing 
 by with a procession of some saint. 
 
 The Scot stood still for a moment ; he had self-command 
 enough to reflect whether the advice he had just received 
 might not be good, and he decided in the affirmative. The 
 police of those times was seldom resorted to, and was cor 
 rupt in the extreme. Even by law, however, the governor 
 could claim for the Spanish crown one-fifth of the amount 
 as " treasure trove," and doubtless would deem it his duty 
 to involve the whole in the meshes of the law ; and the law, 
 as then administered in Spanish America, was almost as 
 much dreaded as the Court of Chancery is in England. 
 
 On the whole, therefore, and to his great disgust, the 
 Scot decided that the best thing he could do was to take 
 the robber's advice ; and meanwhile to watch over the 
 treasure that remained, until an opportunity should occur 
 for him to remove it to his ship. 
 
 As he was thus considering, he was arrested by a guard 
 of soldiers, his name was demanded, and he was removed to 
 prison, without being able to ascertain the nature of the 
 accusation against him. Spanish justice is notoriously 
 dilatory, and he might have lingered in jail for months, but 
 for the exertions of Andreas, who was now, by Alvaro's 
 means, furnished with a "letter of protection." That faith 
 ful friend bestirred himself among the merchants, who were 
 all-influential just then. One of them, for the sake of 
 Alvaro, offered himself as security for the Scot ; and the 
 next morning he was set free. It appeared that he had 
 been denounced as a spy of the buccaneers ; but the name 
 of his accuser was kept secret. He had little doubt as to 
 the identity of that personage, however, with the masked 
 stranger ; and he returned to his ship, oppressed by the 
 saddest misgivings as to the safety of the treasure entrusted 
 to his care. 
 
 On ascending the ship's side, the skipper communicated 
 
DASIEtf. 201 
 
 to him that " an unpleasant, or at least a suspicious circum 
 stance happened this morning at daybreak. A perigua," 
 he continued, " was rowed alongside us by two Indians. In 
 the stern was a man, closely muffled in his cloak, who put 
 yonder cask aboard us, said it was for your excellency, and 
 pulled off again. I did not like to reject it ; but I fear it 
 may bring us into trouble with the authorities on shore ; as 
 all ladings, without the governor's authority, are so strictly 
 forbidden." 
 
 The cask was taken down into the cabin ; and within it 
 Paterson found, to his great surprise, the casket containing 
 the twelve cotton packages, with their seals unbroken. He 
 carefully replaced them in their receptacle, marvelling 
 greatly at the sort of robber whom he had encountered. 
 The cask was by Paterson secured, directed to Don Alvaro's 
 private care, and without placing any suspicious value upon 
 it, was stowed away in the hold, where the expected cargo 
 was to follow. 
 
 This interlude having concluded satisfactorily, the Scot 
 proceeded to the chief business that had called him to Por- 
 tobello. The sun was now set, and was succeeded by a 
 brilliant moonlight, notwithstandiog the vapours that at 
 the same time began to rise from the fatal shore, and floated 
 in thin clouds just above the temporary but picturesque 
 village. 
 
 The sounds from the land now told that the hour of 
 business and enjoyment was arrived. The Scot betook him 
 self to his boat, and on presenting the governor with the 
 customary presents (not then called bribes), was honour 
 ably received. Apologies for his arrest were at the same 
 time made, and an assurance that his false accuser should 
 be sought for. Then the Scot strolled forth upon the 
 shore, dreaming the reveries that his soul most lived in, 
 and finding harmony to his thoughts in the gentle music of 
 the sea, which scarcely murmured against that sheltered 
 shore. The hum of men sounded pleasantly in his ears, too 
 distant to distinguish the many evil words of which it was 
 composed : it spoke to the philanthropist only of energies 
 honestly employed, and the communication between man 
 and man which was essential to the welfare of all. Those 
 men were strangely lodged ; striped tents, log huts, booths 
 of palmetto branches, bent down and covered with their own 
 
202 DAEIEN. 
 
 wide-spreading leaves : these were the dwellings of the 
 great merchants of the west, and these the storehouses of 
 their enormous wealth. To them it was necessary for the 
 dreamer soon to return ; but still he lingered by the shore, 
 for the sound of a guitar and the notes of a woman's voice 
 accompanying it, had fallen upon his ear. Swiftly gliding 
 among his dreams came that beautiful image that he had 
 dismissed so often from his fancy, but in vain. Why should 
 he fear her ? What was there to complain of in her confi 
 dence, her marked preference, her matchless form, her elo 
 quent words ? Was he not alone, utterly alone in the wide 
 world ? Was not his heart made to love ? Was not this 
 woman altogether lovely ? 
 
 She was not. Radiant as were her eyes, regular her fea 
 tures, satin-soft her skin, august her form the tempter had 
 endowed her with all that he could bestow. But the aspect 
 of purity was beyond his power ; and that the young Scot 
 felt to be wanting, slight as haci been his intercourse with 
 woman-kind. Strange it is, how manifest in woman's look 
 is woman's sin, however secret, however unsuspected ! It is 
 apparent to the simplest instinct, provided that instinct itself 
 be pure, and sufficiently unclouded by prejudice to be im 
 partial. 
 
 Therefore it was that the Scot feared Marina, and the very 
 thoughts of her that were daily making for themselves a 
 place within his mind. 
 
 He turned away from the solitude whose Egeria she had 
 become, and dived among the haunts of men. There, in 
 their various and fantastic dwellings, he saw the pale 
 Spaniards, lounging on carpets beneath coloured lamps, 
 playing at dice, or sipping chocolate, or comparing books ; 
 every mouth was furnished with a cigar, which was smoked 
 almost vehemently, not only as a luxury, but as a protection 
 from miasma. Few emotions were visible on their grave 
 bearded faces, even when sudden ruin rolled out from the 
 dice-box, and lay written on the ivory in those black little 
 spots that have cyphered despair to thousands. Not seldom, 
 too, was their apathy tested by some scorpion or gleaming 
 snake crawling into the folds of their long robes, attracted 
 by the warmth. But the influence of national character and 
 climate (and perhaps of tobacco) made those multitudes 
 wonderfully calm, and languid as the lotos-eaters. 
 
DAEIE^. 203 
 
 Suddenly, however, there arose a great commotion in the 
 camp. A gun from one of the castles was fired, and a vast 
 beacon shot up at the same time, tinging the sea far and 
 wide, with its ruddy glare. The galleons were in sight, and 
 every one was roused to the greatest excitement that the year 
 afforded. 
 
 A fair and steady north wind was blowing, and by the 
 time the shore was fringed with eager expectants, the light 
 of whose cigars glimmered like countless fire-flies, the leading 
 Spanish ship entered the harbour ; her wide sails looking 
 blood-red as they glided by the beacon. Salvos of artillery 
 then rent the heated air ; bonfires blazed up through the 
 smoke as it slowly rolled away ; boats and canoes shot out 
 from shore, and the water glowed with the phosphorescent 
 light that flashed around their bows, and oars, and paddles. 
 
 That night there was no sleep in Portobello. The news 
 from Europe, the old home of many ; the amount of cargo, 
 of momentous interest to all ; the landing of old friends and 
 new adventurers all these sources of excitement roused 
 even Spanish languor, and created almost a European stir, 
 busy and tumultuous. 
 
 But this state of things soon settled down into the 
 peace of regularity. The excitement w r as rather caused by 
 imagination than by any real uncertainty. Owing to the 
 admirable arrangements then usually made, the European 
 ships brought exactly what the merchants wanted and ex 
 pected to receive. The Scottish merchant was struck by 
 the calm decorous manner in which the great traffic was 
 carried on ; and still more by the high spirit of honour and 
 corresponding confidence that prevailed between the mer 
 chants of Eastern and Western Spain. Sacks of dollars 
 were accepted without counting their contents, and ingots of 
 gold were received at their stated weight. Demands made 
 from Spain by mere word of mouth were as duly honoured 
 as if demanded by all the authority of law ; and consign 
 ments were made to men four thousand miles distant, whom 
 the consigner had never seen. 
 
 All these details may appear dry and uninteresting to 
 those w r ho only glance over these pages for amusement ; but 
 they are not without importance and deep meaning to those 
 who disdain not to have trains of reflection awakened even 
 by the novelist. The sentiments of honour that prevailed 
 
204 DABIEN. 
 
 in these transactions was the life-spring of Spanish com 
 merce in those times ; it was the chivalry of the merchant 
 ennobling his search for gold, as the chivalry of the warrior 
 redeemed the bloody trade of arms. 
 
 How the concerns of our Carthagena partners fared in 
 this remarkable mart is now of little moment. Wherever 
 great foresight and activity have great capital and credit to 
 work upon, they seldom fail to achieve great triumphs. In 
 Paterson's mind, however, all things, save his duty to his 
 partner, were subservient to the isthmian scheme ; and in 
 the conjunction of the trade between two worlds, he naturally 
 found inexhaustible matter for inquiry and examination. The 
 world is wonderfully ready to assist any man who wants to 
 borrow nothing of it but advice and information. No one, 
 comparing the value set on these two gifts with the value of 
 two dollars, could guess at their relative importance. Thus 
 Paterson, who would have starved rather than have begged 
 a peseta from the merchants of Panama, was neither ashamed 
 nor refused when he begged for information relative to the 
 coast, the rivers, the produce, and the inhabitants of the 
 country in which his hopes were garnered. The one subject 
 of gold mines he did not dare to inquire about ; nor, ID deed, 
 did he consider it of importance, compared with the esta 
 blishment of a colony, and that colony's facilities of trading 
 with its mother country. Nevertheless, even of those 
 mysterious mines he obtained most of what scanty infor 
 mation was to be had. This was accomplished by leading 
 the native merchants to debate upon the subject; they 
 naturally betrayed that, in support of their opinion, which 
 they w r ould not have revealed under any torture less than 
 that of having their argument undervalued. 
 
 At length the fair was nearly ended. Some of the mer 
 chants were" gone ; others were dead of the marsh-fever and 
 the vomito ; many sailors had died of the same, intensified 
 by debauch. The merchants who survived were packing up ; 
 and the sailors who were sober were preparing for sea. The 
 Scot prepared to return to his partner, intending to examine 
 the coast carefully as he sailed along. The cargo that he 
 had calculated upon had been supplied, and he now only 
 waited until the departure of one of the galleons, with which 
 he purposed to sail for some distance in company. 
 
 As he was waiting for his boat one evening, a figure 
 
DAEIEN. 205 
 
 muffled in a cloak approached him. He soon recognised 
 the stranger who had robbed him, yet rendered him such 
 good service. 
 
 "Good evening, amigo mio!" said the stranger, "if to 
 couple such a blasted evening with good does not sound 
 ironical : one might as well breathe the air of a slave-ship's 
 hold ; infernal climate, that it is ! " 
 
 " Senor," replied the Scot, " though I have to thank you 
 for one good deed, there is enough of offence over and above 
 the balance of your service to render our future acquaint 
 ance as scant as may be convenient." 
 
 The stranger knocked the ashes off his cigar, and was 
 silent for a minute before he thus rejoined 
 
 " We have a proverb at Cadiz, Senor Mercante, that the 
 sailor who wants to caulk his boat mustn't turn up his nose 
 at pitch. Now, you are afloat in a craft that won't hold 
 water, and I come to offer you a caulk that may be worth all 
 the cargo in yon ship of yours which is, let me see, as 
 per invoice, ' Genoa velvet, double pile, forty bales ; item, 
 fine Malaga w r ine, (true Ealernian, eh ?) fifty hogsheads ; 
 item, two caskets of Arabian emeralds, one hundred in each, 
 Ac., Ac.' " 
 
 The Scot was by no means so much pleased, as he was 
 surprised, to hear the contents of his ship thus accurately 
 specified ; but he felt that he had no right to quarrel with a 
 person professing friendly motives, and evidently so well- 
 informed. He muttered, half in soliloquy, 
 
 " Timeo Danaos" when he was interrupted by the 
 stranger, who carried on the quotation, 
 
 " Et dona ferentes ? " and then paused for a reply. 
 
 The Scot was modified, in spite of himself, by this unex 
 pected display on the stranger's countenance with his 
 favourite " humanities." 
 
 " I must know what the donation is," he said, " before I 
 either promise to accept it or to feel grateful for it." 
 
 " As you please," replied the stranger : " I am summoned 
 hence, and can only give you one word of advice : make sail 
 as soon as you can get your anchor a trip, and steer as 
 straight as the winds will carry you for Carthagena. I give 
 you this advice not from any romantic regard for you, but 
 because it is my wish, for a certain lady's sake, that you 
 
206 
 
 should arrive there safely. And, hark ye, hoist your colours 
 at your main-top instead of the mizen-peak." 
 
 So saying, the stranger withdrew, and left the Scot to 
 exercise all the habitual debativeness of his nation upon the 
 suggestion he had so singularly received. 
 
 It was a period of great danger ; and the wildest ad 
 ventures, especially at sea, were then credible. The Scot 
 was as devoid of personal fear as any adventurer that 
 ever left his gallant country, but he felt that lie had 
 no right to jeopardise his friend's property. Moreover, 
 his isthmian scheme might be delayed, if not defeated, by 
 any accident that befell its contriver. He had himself 
 determined to land at Chagres, in order to explore the 
 isthmus; but he determined to adopt the stranger's advice, 
 by despatching the Buenaventura straightway to Cartha- 
 gena.. He, therefore, sent orders to his ship to prepare for 
 sea ; and in the mean time he sought the captain of the 
 galleon, to give him an account of his immediate departure, 
 and his reasons for doing so. 
 
 The skipper was a brave old Spaniard, of great experi 
 ence on those seas ; and, somewhat to the Scot's surprise, 
 he received his communication with great gravity. 
 
 " You are quite right, Senor," he exclaimed, after some 
 thought. " I would to San Joachim that I were ready to 
 sail with the midnight's tide, and I would be away also. 
 But 'tis impossible ; and, besides, might be useless. I do 
 not like your accomplished stranger: I am afraid I have 
 heard of him before. However, I must sail to the hour 
 my orders specify that is a point of honour: and you 
 know, Caballero, that honour is the breath of a Spaniard's 
 nostrils." 
 
 The skipper having thus spoken, took snuff, shook his head, 
 and made a profound salutation of farewell to his companion. 
 That night the Buenaventura sailed, and sped safely to her 
 destination. Twenty-four hours afterwards, the galleon 
 also put to sea. She was attacked by buccaneers, after 
 she left the harbour; she fought stoutly, but was taken, 
 and every soul on board of her was put to death. 
 
DABIEF. 207 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 Something the heart must have to cherish, 
 Must love and joy, and sorrow learn ; 
 
 Something with passion clasp, or perish, 
 And in itself to ashes burn. 
 
 Hyperion. 
 
 WHILE the Buenaventura was returning to Carthagena, 
 Paterson pursued his way, with Andreas, by land towards 
 Chagres. Alvaro, on forwarding the casket to the Senora 
 Marina, was not surprised to receive, in return, a request 
 that he would see her. 
 
 On repairing to Don Felipe's hacienda, he found the 
 beautiful widow in the apartment where Tinwald had seen 
 her. Its luxury was to him familiar, and constitutionally 
 a matter of indifference. But perhaps he was scarcely 
 equally philosophical as regarded the superb specimen of 
 woman that reclined in the silken hammock, rocking to 
 and fro, in a paradoxical sort of restless repose. The 
 casket lay unopened by her side ; and the first inquiries 
 made by Marina were concerning the young Scot, who had 
 sent it. Alvaro, with an unconcealed smile of satisfaction, 
 saw what was uppermost in her mind. He pronounced a 
 high eulogy on the calm enthusiasm and unostentatious 
 courage of his friend ; and he pleased himself with watching 
 the widow's eyes beaming brighter, and her pale cheek 
 glowing as he spoke. He told her that the young Scot 
 was gone to Panama, in prosecution of a great enterprise ; 
 and that the length of his journey was very uncertain, as 
 he might visit Chili and Peru before his return. 
 
 This intelligence seemed to make a great impression on 
 the widow, who did not hesitate to confess the interest that 
 she took in the matter. Alvaro at length suggested that 
 she should examine the casket : and that it might be well 
 to take measures for the safety of its contents, which were 
 probably of great value. It was opened. As soon as the 
 first package was uncovered, the pensive Senora displayed 
 as much eagerness in its examination as any of her slaves, 
 who crowded round with a familiarity which, to European 
 eyes, would seem very incompatible with their servile 
 
208 DABIEN. 
 
 state. The most privileged among them poured out from 
 the first package a mass of precious stones that surprised 
 even Alvaro. Glimmering diamonds, glowing rubies, eme 
 ralds, amethysts, and sapphires, flashed sparkling in brilliant 
 confusion on the white and almost transparent drapery in 
 which Marina was enveloped. She was surprised into a laugh 
 of pleasure at the sight, and stirred up the precious baubles 
 with her fan, to watch the gleam and lustre of their various 
 hues. But curiosity to know more soon prevailed over 
 that enjoyment, and the gems were returned to their 
 receptacle. Another package was filled entirely with 
 pearls, whose large size and soft moonlight-lustre rendered 
 them as valuable as their rival gems. The next case con 
 tained fine ornaments of Genoese workmanship ; the next, 
 curiously carved antique seals and rings. Here the chief 
 interest of the women ended : all the remaining packages, 
 contained only matter-of-fact doubloons, or hieroglyphic bills, 
 or bonds for debt. 
 
 The entire treasure was of immense value ; but the ex 
 citement attendant on it had passed away, and Marina was 
 once more pale, pensive, and abstracted. Her kinsman, 
 Don Eelipo, was summoned to take charge of her new-found 
 wealth, which he regarded with as much astonishment as a 
 Spaniard could permit himself to exhibit. Alvaro then 
 took his leave, persuaded in his own mind that his friend 
 had only to present himself, in order to obtain possession 
 of the beautiful widow and her wealth. 
 
 Perhaps it was so. Quien sabe ; who knows ? But, 
 meanwhile, the favoured Scot, unconscious of the bright 
 form that his destiny had assumed, was wandering far away 
 among valleys and mountains unknown except to Indian 
 eyes. We will not anticipate his future adventures there. 
 After some weeks passed in exploring the isthmus, Pater- 
 son returned to Carthagena, more confident than ever in 
 the practicability of founding, on the isthmus, a great 
 emporium, with a rapid communication between the two 
 great oceans. 
 
 Alvaro, too, dwelt with pleasure, and loved to dilate 
 upon a scheme that suited well with his grasping and 
 insatiable spirit of enterprise. Night after night, as the 
 tropical stars shone down upon their terrace, did the two 
 trieuds ponder over the mighty object of their ambitioz?. 
 
DARIEtf. 209 
 
 Alvaro was quite willing to stake the whole of his vast and 
 rapidly-accumulating wealth upon the noble venture. In 
 another year he could realize all his present speculations ; 
 and concentrate millions, now widely dispersed, upon this 
 one transcendant scheme. If it failed, (but it could not 
 fail !) he felt that he had resources within his own broad 
 forehead to open out a new career, and energy enough to 
 begin the world again; yea, and to conquer greater 
 difficulties than he had already done. 
 
 "With him, to decide and to act were simultaneous. He 
 despatched letters and emissaries over the globe to wind up 
 his aifairs, and to collect all his capital in London, as, even 
 then, the safest depot. His eager spirit chafed at the un 
 avoidable delay; but he resolved, meanwhile, to make a 
 voyage into Spain, where he would plead and bribe, flatter 
 and excite the court, in order to obtain the permission and 
 authority necessary to enable him to lay the first founda 
 tions of his plan. He began to dream of founding a new 
 empire in the West, and thus gratify his still surviving 
 spirit of revenge, and his ambition. At that time, so fallen 
 and corrupt was Spain, that half a million of money might 
 have almost purchased the kingdom, much more a disputed 
 and bravely-resisted claim to the dangerous and almost un 
 trodden shores of Darien. There would have been danger 
 to Alvaro in returning to a land where his life was forfeited 
 to the relentless Inquisition, had he not changed his name 
 to that by which we have lately known him. The ship he 
 had sailed in was known to have been lost, with, as was 
 supposed, all on board, and who could recognise, in the far- 
 iamed merchant, Don Alvaro, of Carthagena, the obscure 
 Moresco boy, Alvarez of the Mesquinez ? 
 
 In his sanguine dreams, the two seaport cities were 
 already built ; the causeway connecting them with the At 
 lantic and Great South Sea was already cut, built up, and 
 travelled upon. Time only intervened to prevent the impe 
 rial house of Alvaro on the one coast, and that of Pater- 
 son on the other, from giving law, facility, and unbounded 
 scope to the commerce of the world. 
 
 But time is pregnant with a thousand chances to mar or 
 make the most triumphant or most fallen fortunes. 
 
 Alvaro sailed from Carthagena in a brave ship, manned 
 and equipped in the most perfect manner known to those 
 
 o 
 
210 DAEIEtf. 
 
 early times. Her skilful seamen, and elaborate preparation, 
 seemed to bid defiance to the seas, and her powerful arma 
 ment to all the buccaneering power on the Spanish Main ; 
 yet Alvaro was not fated to reach his destination. Never 
 theless, on the day appointed, he set sail for Europe, full of 
 his new hope. 
 
 After his friend's departure, Paterson found abundant oc 
 cupation in the sole superintendence of their great house, 
 and its manifold concerns. He also filled a high position in 
 the mercantile community, and busied himself in a scheme 
 which, afterwards expanded in the more genial commercial 
 atmosphere of London, was destined to immortalize his 
 name. 
 
 Carthagena abounded in bullion, and almost all other re 
 presentatives of wealth, but its coin was quite inadequate 
 to the required circulation. Paterson represented to the 
 merchants that only ignorance of its powers prevented that 
 torpid wealth from assuming an active and vivifying form. 
 He said, 
 
 " Your word, Don Sancho, is worth ten thousand ducats ; 
 yours, Don Felipo, is worth as much; but you cannot 
 transfer its value to another. Now, if you could render it 
 palpable, your credit would virtually add twenty thousand 
 ducats to the wealth of the community. Why not render 
 it palpable, visible, and available for all purposes of com 
 merce?" 
 
 Such was the simple foundation of the great banking 
 svstem which now overspreads the civilized world, with 
 some inconveniences, but innumerable advantages. The 
 leading merchants associated together, and gave their united 
 credit to certain papers, stamped in a form agreed upon, and 
 signed in their names by an accredited agent. All their 
 feasible property, their fish yet uncaught at Newfound 
 land, their silk yet unwoven in India, their velvets at 
 Genoa, were all suddenly converted into moving and 
 creative capital ; circulating through every house in the 
 fiat-roofed streets of Carthagena, and rendering more easy 
 the lot of its inhabitants. Paterson, for a matter now so 
 familiar, suddenly acquired a great reputation; he was 
 looked up to as a discoverer and a public benefactor. 
 
 Thus Paterson had attained to one of the greatest objects 
 of his ambition ; and his mind was occupied in the highest 
 
DAEIEN. 211 
 
 of all earthly pleasures, that of developing itself to the 
 advantage of mankind. But the public life of a man, how 
 ever engrossing it may be, leaves ample margin for the 
 sense of enjoyment or privation in his retirement. He is 
 far more keenly alive, perhaps, to the latter than the idler, 
 upon whom recreation palls, or assumes the aspect of the 
 weariest of labours, that which profits not. In his few 
 intervals of solitude and leisure, the heart of Paterson 
 3^earned for a home. The memory of Alice was still dear 
 to him, dearer than the presence and the attractions of all 
 others. Many a pale beauty of Carthagena now sought to 
 win his attention by every wile and witchery that woman's 
 subtlety could invent. It was, indeed, whispered that he 
 was not a Catholic ; but then he was handsome, wealthy, 
 and famous. The bigotry of Spain was considerably re 
 laxed in her luxurious colonies, and heretic and husband 
 were by no means incompatible. From all these vulgar 
 waylayers of passion Marina stood proudly aloof. The Scot, 
 on his return from his travels, had excused himself from her 
 invitation to visit her and receive her thanks, and she 
 haughtily abstained from making any further advances. 
 She "devoured her grief" in solitude, and it turned into 
 anger. She devised schemes of vengeance against the recu 
 sant Scot ; and then, when she imagined them executed, 
 remorse brought back her love with aggravation. The ob 
 ject of her affection, meanwhile, thought that he had effec 
 tually estranged himself from her and all her dangerous 
 countrywomen. His sentiment was undividedly fixed upon 
 Alice, the uncertainty of whose fate now gave her a more 
 romantic interest in his eyes. Wafer, according to his 
 promise, had sent the letter to her on his arrival in England. 
 By subsequent inquiries he had ascertained, and communi 
 cated to Paterson, that Tarn was dead; and that his daugh 
 ter and her friend Isobel, accompanied by old Partan, had 
 left Sandilee, and had not since been heard of. 
 
 When this intelligence reached Carthagena, the news 
 was already old ; and Paterson could only feel that Alice 
 was to him lost for ever. Nevertheless, instead of endea 
 vouring to estrange himself from thoughts of her, he 
 estranged himself still further from the world which might 
 have interfered with her ever-living memory. He was 
 faithful even to her shade. 
 
 o 2 
 
212 DAEIEK. 
 
 One evening, at a time when the well-known fever was 
 raging in Carthagena, he was reposing after his day's 
 labour in his unostentatious home. It stood apart from 
 the city on a lonely spot facing the narrow channel and the 
 hill of San Lazaro. He was alone, as usual, and the single 
 servant who attended to his few wants had betaken himself 
 to the town to learn the latest news of the fever's ravages. 
 The fire-flies that fluttered in a brilliant maze under his 
 verandah, were the only signs of life within his monastic 
 dwelling. As he lay there, gazing on the star-reflecting 
 water, a dark figure glided between him and the faint light. 
 It paused, as if hesitatingly, for a moment ; and then, fling 
 ing off a large cloak, a woman discovered herself, and stepped 
 hastily into the apartment. The Scot, more alarmed than 
 if he had seen the fiercest freebooter, started up ; his visitor 
 threw herself at his feet, and, clasping his reluctant hand, 
 bathed it with passionate tears. 
 
 " Forgive me, forgive me !" cried the voice of Marina, in 
 its softest tones. " I heard that you had not been seen 
 since the fever grew so fatal. I knew that you did not fear 
 it as our coward Spaniards do, and I thought you must be 
 ill. I strove and strove to restrain my anxiety, but, but, 
 I should have died if I had not come to see you. And now 
 I am overpowered at the same time by my joy and shame. 
 Pardon me, gentle stranger, and do not add to my self- 
 reproach by contempt, which I could not bear from you and 
 live!" 
 
 It seemed impossible, even to the stoic Scot, to resist 
 such an appeal. He thanked his visitor with grave ceremo- 
 niousness for her interest in him, and at the same time 
 asked permission to escort her back to the city, before her 
 absence could create alarm. She rose slowly, and assented ; 
 and they both walked back along the secluded path that 
 led from Paterson's abode. Marina was the first to break 
 the awkward silence. She suddenly stood still, and laid her 
 hand on her companion's arm and pressed it. 
 
 " He is flesh and blood !" she exclaimed, as if in soliloquy 
 and wonder ; " he is flesh and blood, and yet he has no feel 
 ing ! "What have I not dared and done to obtain one kind 
 word ! Am I old, or cold, or repulsive ? Even if I were, 
 that heart which is so gentle and generous to all others 
 might surely feel one throb for mine. Englishman ! man of 
 
DAEIEtf. 213 
 
 insult ! heretic ! hear me for once say boldly, that I love 
 you ! I cast myself, my wealth, the devotion of my soul, 
 at your feet. You offer coldly to attend me to my home. 
 I tell you, I will rather fling myself from this precipice into 
 yonder dark waters, less merciless than you ! " 
 
 And so saying, as if stung to madness by rage and dis 
 appointment, she rushed towards the edge of the beetling 
 cliff. The Scot caught her in his powerful arms, and drew 
 her back ; she yielded unresistingly, and fainted, or seemed 
 to faint, upon his breast ; bewildered, he carried her to 
 a neighbouring rock, and gently laid her down. He was 
 about to run to the city for assistance, but she revived 
 sufficiently to recall him. 
 
 " I am better now," she said, faintly ; " do not leave me, 
 
 or " The Scot sat down beside her, and supported 
 
 her drooping head upon his shoulder. He began to relent. 
 He was flesh and blood, and he felt it so strongly, that his 
 mere spirit and his spiritual love seemed to become sepa 
 rated from himself and retire afar off. She whom he had so 
 long loved was not forgotten, even then ; yet she seemed a 
 mere abstraction, fading away dimly, but divinely, into the 
 invisible world. 
 
 He took Marina's cold hand in his, and it grew warm. 
 She seemed restored to new life, and poured out an inco 
 herently eloquent declaration of all that she had long hoped 
 and feared. She conjured him to break the mystery that 
 surrounded him, and to tell her all that he had experienced, 
 all that he had felt. It was an unwise request, for he 
 frankly began his confessions with details of his early 
 youth. As he proceeded, old scenes, old associations, and 
 high pure thoughts rose up before his memory : Alice, too, 
 in all her budding loveliness, her innocent and ever-trusting 
 love. He dwelt upon that first charm of his life until the 
 impetuous Marina grasped his hand convulsively ; and, 
 looking up, he saw that her whole countenance was 
 changed ; jealousy and anger were burning there, and 
 rendered her surpassing beauty demoniacal in its lurid 
 brightness : the moment before the seraphic vision of the 
 pensive Alice had filled his mind. He let go the hand 
 he held ; he would almost have shaken it off. Marina in a 
 moment perceived her error, and said, gently and upbraid- 
 ingly 
 
214 DAEIEN. 
 
 " All ! you never can have loved, or you could not wound 
 the ears of one whose very life hangs upon you, by such 
 eloquent praises of another. I will ask you to tell me no 
 more of your story now. But I will tell you mine, while 
 the soft and sympathising darkness gives me courage to 
 speak of what none but you and one other shall ever know. 
 I do not ask you to look at me now ; but when I have 
 passed over my deepest sorrow, look then down upon me 
 gently if you can, and let your eyes tell me you forgive me. 
 
 " I was an orphan long, long ago. I was brought up by 
 a too-indulgent brother of my poor mother's. He was 
 proud of my beauty for I am beautiful. He loved me, 
 too, as if he held both my father and mother's love for me 
 in his own heart. He gratified my wildest caprices ; every 
 luxury that wealth could command was lavished on me. 
 My life was too happy to have many incidents worth notice. 
 In one awful hour all was changed : our city was sacked by 
 the buccaneers. Prom our terrace roof I saw their leader 
 mount the walls. Though the bullets whistled everywhere 
 round me, I stood fascinated by the danger. By the unin- 
 termitting blaze of musketry I could see that daring leader 
 distinctly, bursting through pikes and swords as if they had 
 been garden boughs. My kinsman just then found me, and 
 carried me to the door. There he took leave of me, as I 
 before told you, and bade me hasten from the town. I was 
 borne away by the crowd, whose shrieks and prayers filled 
 the air. We impeded one another in our flight, and the 
 terrible plunders soon followed on our track. As they 
 came nearer, I could hear their swords crashing into the 
 brains of those nearest to me, and, overcome by terror, 
 I fainted. "When I came to myself, I was lying on a heap 
 of rich shawls, close to the sea-shore. Two of the pirates, 
 disabled, I believe, from moving by their wounds, lay on the 
 ground near me. I could not understand their language, 
 but I soon discovered that I was their prisoner, for they 
 threatened to shoot me if I stirred. In about an hour 
 their leader, whom I had seen before, approached me. He 
 was all black and red with smoke and blood ; but he ad 
 dressed me so gently and courteously, that I could scarcely 
 believe the voice was his. He apologised for my alarm, as 
 if only some trifling accident had occurred, and assured me 
 of the most respectful treatment that he could command. 
 
DAEIEN. 215 
 
 He begged that I would accompany him towards the town, 
 but I could not move. He called to his two followers to 
 carry me. One pointed to his broken leg ; the other tried 
 to rise, but fell back fainting or dead with the* effort. He 
 then blew a bugle that hung at his neck, and soon three or 
 four of his men came running towards him, almost as blood 
 stained and begrimed as he was. He said some words to 
 them, and touched his pistol as he spoke. They lifted me 
 up on the shawls, and a carpet which I then perceived was 
 also under me. They bore me hastily away to a house in 
 the suburbs, and left me, one of .them remaining at the 
 door to keep guard. Some hours after their captain came ; 
 he was now cleansed from every trace of battle, and magni- 
 ficentty dressed. He tried to soothe my alarm and despair ; 
 he declared to me his admiration, which he called his love. 
 He asked me if I would be a rover's bride, and he would 
 make me mistress of the seas. I recoiled from him in 
 terror. I thought I could still smell the horrible odour of 
 warm blood upon the hand that tried to imprison mine. 
 He then changed his tone. He said that minutes were to 
 him as days to others. He told me plainly the alternative, 
 if I would not be his bride. "Without waiting for my 
 answer, he left the room, and returned in a few minutes 
 with a half-dead priest. I scarcely knew what followed. I 
 heard sacred words feebly murmured, and I suppose that I 
 was wed. I have then a faint recollection of distant shots, 
 and bugles sounding, and angry voices. My bridegroom 
 gave me one embrace, and then rushed out. Soon after 
 wards the sounds of strife redoubled then again receded. 
 I seized that moment to escape. I tried to take the priest 
 with me, but his strength failed and he sank. I fled to the 
 woods, where I found some of my poor countrymen. We 
 lived as we could, I scarcely know how, till the buccaneers 
 left the coast. We then returned to the smoking ruins of 
 the town. I found the priest who had married me must 
 I say it ? there. He addressed me as Donna Lorenzo ! 
 (why do you start ? he is dead since then), and gave me 
 a letter from the pirate captain, whom he lauded to the 
 skies for his clemency and liberality. ' Clemency ! ' I re 
 peated, with indignation, looking round on the ruins ; 
 * begone from me, unworthy padre, and tell your employer 
 how I treat his letter and pretended rights.' I threw the 
 
216 DAEIEN. 
 
 paper on the ground and stamped upon it. Now my long 
 story is told. I know what you will think of it, what you 
 will doubt in it ; but it is, alas ! too true." 
 
 Poor Marina ! her story had completely broken the brief 
 spell that she had cast on him whom she sought to fasci 
 nate. Lorenzo ! Lawrence ! was a name that struck 
 upon old memories. And the queenly Marina had been a 
 pirate's bride perhaps only hoped that she was now a 
 widow? It was enough for the Scot ; his only thought was 
 how to conclude the scene in which he had been so un 
 expectedly involved. But such crises have fortunately only 
 two alternatives; if they do not at once explode into 
 something decisive, they soon lose their intensity. Marina 
 was subdued by the excess of her own emotions, and began 
 to think that enough had been done for one occasion. She 
 felt as if a great advance was gained in the mutual confi 
 dence that had been given, and in short, she at length 
 permitted herself to be ceremoniously escorted to her 
 home. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 The first was darkly pale, with eyes 
 Deeper than are the midnight skies, 
 Yet lovely as the seraphim, 
 When pitying tears their splendour dim ; 
 Her voice was musical and low ; 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The second was a brighter maiden, 
 Her brow with curls of gold was laden ; 
 Upon her cheek there laid a blush 
 Warm as the sunset's tender flush ; 
 A merry glance like the smile of spring, 
 Which made each pulse a living thing. 
 
 SIR F. DOYLE. 
 
 THE most trying part of the celebrated temptation of St. 
 Antony, probably, remained after the struggle appeared to 
 be ended; as it is said, that during our army's advance in 
 the Peninsula, hundreds of sentries deserte'd their posts, 
 through fear of the spirits of those whom they had con- 
 
DABEEtf. 217 
 
 quered in the flesh. Even so, when the beautiful devil had 
 vanished from the saint's eyes, no doubt he found his 
 thoughts haunted by the beautiful, even though the dia 
 bolical had afterwards supervened. 
 
 At least, thus it was with our Scotch friend, who, though 
 no saint by profession, had probably more claim to that 
 appellation than St. Napoleon, and many other canonized 
 personages in the very mixed company of the Eoman 
 calendar. The lonely house by the Bocca Chica seemed to 
 grow more lonely still; and each evening, as the hour of 
 Marina's unexpected visit arrived, every shadow that crossed 
 the wide windows made the poor Scot's heart beat quickly, 
 in the hope (which he mistook for fear) that the substance 
 of that shadow might ensue. In frequent mental exercises 
 of avoiding her, her image became familiar with all the 
 avenues of his imagination ; and while invisible, she ap 
 peared not unlikely to prevail in what her presence failed 
 in accomplishing. And yet he was not in love with the 
 beautiful Spaniard, and the sense of apprehension which 
 accompanied his thoughts of her proved it ; for love has no 
 personal or mental reservations, though, in relation to its 
 object, it is said to partake of such emotions : but as we 
 have two lives the mortal and the immortal life so we 
 have two sorts of affections, one corporeal and the other 
 spiritual; it is the mistaking the one for the other, that 
 leads to so many scrapes and false positions in the world. 
 But Marina was possessed by .both these feelings, so far as 
 the impetuous nature of the one allowed the other to exist. 
 She had held all such passions at bay until now ; and they 
 carried her heart by no gentle capitulation, but by storm. 
 It appeared to her as if she was under a spell. Wealthy, 
 witty, beautiful, and proud, how had her haughty heart 
 succumbed to a poor unpretending adventurer, the first man 
 who had never sought her smiles ? The blind god only 
 knows! he is bringing about such paradoxes every day. 
 
 The morning after her interview with the Scot, Marina 
 awoke from troubled dreams and found no calm. The air 
 had never seemed so sultry ; her almost gauze-like covering 
 felt heavy on her limbs ; the magnificence round her ap 
 peared importunate ; the glitter of gold and glass, the faint 
 scent of distant flowers, the very sparkle of the fountain 
 oppressed her. JShe rose, and tried to walk with naked feet 
 
218 DAELEN. 
 
 across the porcelain floor, but an icy sensation shot through 
 all her frame, and seemed to settle on her heart. She fell 
 back upon her couch ; she felt that the pestilence had 
 seized her. 
 
 Thousands were sick and dying everywhere; in palaces 
 and garrets, and on the bed of Lazarus the stony street. 
 But she had felt so confident in the consciousness of power, 
 and youth, and strength, that she never contemplated being 
 subjected to such a vulgar calamity. Suddenly the world 
 grew dark around her; shapes of horror, instead of her 
 beautiful slaves, seemed to move about her, holding up 
 shrouds instead of costly robes for her to choose from. At 
 the door, where her palanquin was used to wait, there was 
 a ghastly bier, which seemed to be swung backwards and 
 forwards by its bearers, as if in mockery of her luxurious 
 hammock : and beyond, at the end of her favourite walk, 
 the arbour had sunk down into an ominous pit, deep and 
 narrow, but wide enough for her. 
 
 Then, what to her was the world, wealth, wit, beauty, 
 conquest, love itself? She was, in truth, in a delirious 
 dream, but it seemed to her as if she then awoke to the 
 only reality she had ever known. She tried to call on 
 Tinwald, but her words had no sound. She saw him, she 
 thought, standing coldly and aloof from her, but he ap 
 peared, on that account, to be the more able to save her, if 
 he only would. And thus, in pain of body and horror of 
 mind, the poor lady lay for many days, unconscious of any 
 world beyond that which wandering fancy supplied to her 
 despair. Priests, and friends, and physicians, and slaves 
 came and went without her knowledge ; she had only eyes 
 for the impalpable and dreary forms that haunted her 
 imagination. 
 
 And so we must leave her, and turn back to the little 
 village by the Solway, which we left mourning for the old 
 laird of Tinwald long ago 
 
 Sandilee remained for a considerable time without change. 
 In a small community, the changes that keep a city in a 
 perpetual state of transition and unconscious excitement 
 are very few ; and, consequently, when, in a pause of busy 
 life, we return to a quiet country neighbourhood, it gene 
 rally seems to have stood still, with an Egyptian sort of 
 immobility, while the rest of the world has gone whirling 
 
DABIEN. 219 
 
 on. How pure and simple seem the kind hearts we rejoin 
 there ; how serene their lives ; what repose in the " happy 
 vallejr " they inhabit ! 
 
 Looking back thus to Sandilee, we fine Alice almost as we 
 left her, 
 
 " Still is she all that she was when a child, 
 Only more lovely, only less wild." 
 
 A more pensive shade has stolen over her bright coun 
 tenance ; or rather, of the joy and thoughtfulness that used 
 to chase each other there, the latter has begun to prevail. 
 She is now a frequent guest with the old laird (for we have 
 gone back five years) ; he loves to talk of his lost son, and 
 she loves to listen. At last she has told him, what he never 
 knew before, that it was not for her, but for his father, that 
 he gave up his prospect of travelling. And the old man 
 wonders why he ever refused him Alice, and Alice wonders 
 how any madness could have rendered her unfaithful, even 
 for an hour that fatal hour, in which her heart's hope was 
 broken. If we could all bring ourselves to be as considerate 
 and fond to those who are always with us, as to those who 
 are far away, the latter would be fewer in number. 
 
 At length Alice was summoned away to see the dying 
 kinswoman, whose guest she had been so long. As often 
 happens, death, long delayed, seemed to make up for arrears, 
 and performed all his dark work at once. It was during 
 this absence that the old laird sickened and died, and his son 
 came and departed. Soon afterwards, Alice returned to her 
 father's house, but no longer alone ; for Partan again had 
 taken two mules to Annan, and cousin Isobel rode the second. 
 She is now an orphan and homeless, and Alice proudly and 
 affectionately plays the hostess. Not long, however, for 
 Isobel is soon as much at home in the Peel-house as her 
 cousin ; and old Tarn, somewhat softened by age, regards her 
 as another daughter. Partan is now part of the household ; 
 he seems to have taken a new lease of life from his sick bed, 
 and he more seldom yields to his old enemy. He and Tarn 
 still often talk of the Deadman's Isle, and the latter still 
 hopes, some day or other, to receive its buried treasure ; 
 Partan believes*that Lawrence either had found that it had 
 been removed, or perished in one of the many accidents 
 attendant on his wild career. But time moves on, and 
 Tarn seldom leaves his "ingle neuk," except at intervals of 
 
220 DAHIE3T. 
 
 months, when he contrives to hobble out to hi? garden, as 
 if to enjoy the prospect of the sea once more. At length 
 his last departure is taken, and he lies low in Caerlaverock 
 churchyard. Few outside of his own house missed him 
 much; but every one sympathised with the two young 
 orphans, especially when it was reported that they were 
 left unprovided for. Except the Peel-house, and a few 
 hundred acres of unproductive land, Tarn, after all his 
 savings, had left no property. All the village marvelled at 
 this ; some quoted ill-natured proverbs about ill-gotten 
 wealth; others remarked that certain people appeared to 
 have the art of absolutely annihilating money, an art in 
 which most of our grandfathers must have been well skilled. 
 Almost all believed in their hearts that the devil had run 
 away with Tarn's assets. "What else could have become of 
 the savings of thirty years ? Who else could have disposed 
 of the price of the Tinwald property (most of which went to 
 Tarn as mortgagee), without leaving a trace of it behind ? 
 
 Partan appeared to be as much puzzled as any of the 
 neighbours as to this enigma, but he was not equally so 
 licitous about the orphans. He had, in fact, a consider 
 able store of gold of his own, though he had lived in the 
 same self-denying manner as the poor fishermen of the 
 village. He had, in fact, no pleasant associations connected 
 with the earning of his wealth ; and, by way of penance, he 
 had always denied himself the use of it, except for the 
 merest necessaries of life. He now proudly felt that he 
 could befriend Alice, whom he loved as if she were his own 
 daughter, though he treated her with as much respect as if 
 she were a queen, and more so than ever now. The girls 
 were the only inhabitants of the village who were not aware 
 of their poverty ; and as they knew nothing of business, 
 and were too busied with their grief to think of it, Partan 
 was in hopes they would never know, during his lifetime, 
 that they were his debtors. 
 
 One evening, as he was sitting in his accustomed chimney- 
 corner, opposite to the vacant chair of his old friend, he 
 mused upon these things ; and once more, for the thou 
 sandth time, he cast his eyes round the room in search of 
 some cranny in which Tarn might have concealed his 
 wealth. He looked in vain, and at last stretched out his 
 hand and took up his old friend's mull, to revive his brain 
 
DAEIEN. 221 
 
 with a pinch of snuff. He observed with a melancholy 
 smile, for it recalled certain peculiarities of Tarn to his mind, 
 that it was false in its construction, and contained a very 
 small quantity of snuff, although it was of very large di 
 mensions. It was not an uncommon trick in those times 
 to have three parts of the mull so arranged as to contain 
 the coin that might have been unsafe in a more evident 
 receptacle. Partan, on opening this concealed portion, 
 however, was disappointed to find only a dirty piece of 
 paper. It proved, on further examination, to be Tarn's 
 will ; and ran thus : " I give and bequeath to young Tin- 
 wald, of the manor-house (being the only honest man I 
 ever knew), what he knows, and that in trust for my lassie." 
 This simple document had evidently been written several 
 years before, though it bore no date. It proved, as every 
 one suspected, that Tarn had left money somewhere ; but 
 where now seemed as uncertain as ever. No news had been 
 heard of the young laird since he wrote two years before, 
 by a trader from Cadiz to Bourdeaux, requesting Partan to 
 write to him at the former port, or to get some one to do 
 so. Partan's reply, composed with great labour by the 
 joint skill of the village, had probably never reached its 
 destination. 
 
 The only use, therefore, of the will, was to enable Partan 
 to hint that it had empowered him, by private knowledge, 
 to render part of Tarn's property available; and the old 
 Peel-house looked as well as ever, while the cheer to be 
 found there was considerably improved. Partan himself 
 began to exhibit a change for the better. He considered 
 himself as undoubted guardian to the orphan cousins ; and 
 while he deferred to them in a manner more respectful 
 than ever, he displayed an increasing appearance of self- 
 respect that surprised the simple villagers into suspicions 
 of his sanity. He was no longer seen sitting listlessly by 
 the sea-shore, or half-drunk in the chimney-corner. He 
 had found an object ; he felt himself of use, and he became 
 a changed man. He attended fairs and markets; he re 
 claimed and stocked Tarn's unprofitable acres ; he shoo" 
 his head at whisky, and declared that water was a " far 
 mair improvin' drink." But still his former gloom would 
 return whenever he was unemployed ; and as he no longer 
 
222 DAEIEN. 
 
 fought it off by strong potations, no doubt it was harder to 
 bear. But no victory was ever won without a struggle; 
 and in the humble field of battle of the old sailor's heart 
 many a gallant deed was performed, known only to his 
 guardian angel. 
 
 News! news! news came one day that there was a 
 letter for Partan, in somebody's hands at Dumfries ; is 
 had been lying there for many a day, and been much 
 talked about. A letter in those days was a more important 
 incident than the appearance of many a new book is now. 
 Of course, it would not be entrusted to any hands but those 
 of him to whom it was dedicated. It proved to be one of 
 those which Tinwald had written from Carthagena, on 
 hearing of the death of Lawrence ; the other, addressed to 
 Alice, had been either lost or had strayed to some town, 
 where it may be lying to this day. 
 
 Alice and Isobel were sitting in the old Castle of Caer- 
 laverock, whose eastern window was still a favourite re 
 sort of Tarn's daughter. 
 
 " Bella," said Alice, " I fear that this lonely and unoccu 
 pied life of ours is beginning to pall upon your busy and 
 romantic fancy. You are grwoing listless and dispirited, 
 and your bonnie cheek has lost its bloom." 
 
 " Nay," replied her cousin, "but you might be speaking 
 of yourself, Alice ; for you are growing mair pale than I 
 like to see, even considering all the trouble that is weighing 
 on your little heart. Why should you stay in this sad, sad 
 place, where all we care for lies beneath the turf, and all 
 the haunts that you used to love ache with a sense of 
 vacancy? Lonely creatures are we not, why should we 
 stay in the place of all others that seems to us most 
 lonely?" 
 
 "Where should we turn to, unprotected as we are?" 
 rejoined Alice, to whom the thought was not new, though 
 unexpressed. " Once out of our little fold, all the world 
 appears to be a wilderness." 
 
 " Nay, not unprotected, Alice. Haven't we that dear, 
 honest old mastiff, Master Parfcan, to growl away any 
 wolfish assailants ; and who would have the heart to assail 
 poor little us ? Dear Alice, now we have broken the ice, 
 let us go, let us go to France, where we have still some 
 
3UBIE3T. 223 
 
 kin that may have gentler hearts than those in the Forest- 
 shire,* who look down on us sae unkindly." 
 
 " Well, lassie, we must think of it, and consult old Partan. 
 See, here he comes with his letter in his hand. Can it 
 concern us ? " 
 
 Partan had hurried at his best pace to find his young 
 mistress, as he called her ; but now he would fain have some 
 leisure to reflect dn the best method of breaking his intelli 
 gence to her. He believed, indeed, that she had never 
 cared for the buccaneer ; but still he knew that some sort 
 of troth had passed between them, and it was an awkward 
 business to explain at once that the man was dead. So he 
 tried to throw into his rugged face an expression of sym 
 pathy ; and he presented the letter to Alice, recommending 
 her to read it " by hirsel', whiles he had a crack wi' Mis 
 tress Is'bel about some ither matters." Alice sat down 
 tremblingly to open the letter, and Partan and her cousin 
 walked back towards the village. The letter ran thus : 
 
 " To SANDY PABTAN, 
 
 " Mariner, Sandilee, near Dumfries. 
 
 " MY GOOD FRIEND, News came to me that you have 
 recovered your health, for which I am very thankful ; the 
 more so because you can be of use to Mistress Alice, the 
 death of whose father must leave her much in want of a 
 true friend. This I know you to be ; and a trusty one, 
 with the only exception that we have talked so much about. 
 I have written to Mistress Alice by the same ship that 
 takes this letter, offering to her my poor services, if I can in 
 anywise be useful to her. You will have heard that the 
 privateer captain is dead among the Indians. I wish you 
 to write to me as soon as convenient, and to send the letter 
 to Master Law's house (the jeweller), in Edinbro'. He 
 will pay the bearer, and furnish him with the moneys 
 mentioned in the enclosed bill, one-half of which you will 
 pay to Janet Shillinglaw, at the manor-house; and the 
 
 * This is the old name for the beautiful and otherwise interesting 
 country west of Tweed and Ettrick. It comprised the Gala-house, 
 Torwoodlee, and, I believe, the Ashestiel and Philiphaugh estates ; 
 extending to the old ruin of Longshaw, James the Fourth's hunting- 
 seat, and the memorable Peel-tower that bears the name of Glendearg, 
 in the " Monastery." Peace be upon its homes and hills, and all thai 
 they centain (except the grouse in due season) ! 
 
224 DAEIEN. 
 
 other half you will distribute among tlie poor people at 
 Sandilee. Do not forget Madden Bay's old mother, at the 
 Lochar Mouth. And be very particular to tell all you can 
 about Mistress Alice. I am settled in a large mercantile 
 house at Carthagena, in New Spain ; where probably you 
 have been. Commending you to the best care that on 
 high I remain your true Friend, 
 
 "WILLIAM PATERSON." 
 
 This letter was read and re-read by Alice with a variety 
 of contending emotions. It was in Willie's own hand 
 writing, they were his own very words; that they were 
 visible, instead of being uttered, only rendered them more 
 precious, for they would not pass away. But that letter 
 to herself, how cruel it seemed that she was to be deprived 
 of it! Her whole destiny might be must have been 
 written there! Then came thoughts of the brave and 
 brilliant stranger, who never until that moment had in 
 terested her: but the gallant dead are always sure of a 
 requiem in generous hearts ; and Willie himself could not 
 have grudged the tears that she gave to his memory, the 
 libation of purity on the grave of crime. How it contrasted 
 with the joy of Marina on hearing the same intelligence ! 
 
 " It's my 'pinion, Mistress Is'bel," observed Partan, as 
 he stumped along the beach, after imparting to her the 
 purport of the letter ; " now we've fand out where young 
 Tinwald is, that we ought to send till him ; thae bit letters 
 tak' a lang time to get about, if ever they get there ; and 
 how they ever reach across the earth at a' passes my com 
 prehension. Now, ye ken, leddie, there's a ship sent once 
 a year by what they ca' the African Company, wi' the king 
 o' Spain's licence, to the Spanish Main. She sails frae 
 Bristo' at the back end o' next month ; and wi' any good 
 luck, she suld won ower in eight weeks. JN"ow, ae word o' 
 Tinwald' s wad put Mistress Alice in possession o' a' her 
 father's siller ; and if anything war to happen to the young 
 laird, it's a' as gude as lost for ever owin' to that auld 
 carle's perversity." 
 
 A bright thought struck Isobel. She well knew what 
 was in her cousin's heart. 
 
 " Why should we not go ourselves ? " she demanded. 
 
 " Hech ! Sirs ! It's no to be thought on. Te little ken, 
 
DAEIEN. 225 
 
 leddie, what it is to cross the seas, and what a sair land it 
 is ayont 'em. No, but it's pretty to look on ; wi' its heavens 
 o' blue, and its gran' fragrant forests, and bonnie birds, 
 and clear waters. But it's what auld Tarn wad hae call'd a 
 painted sepulchre, fair 'ithout, but 'ithin fu' o' corruption. 
 What wi' favers, and buccaneers, and serpents, and Spa 
 niards, and ither reptiles, it's nae place for Christian man ; 
 muckle mair, young leddies. For mysel', I'm sworn, on 
 my destruction, never to cross the seas agin; but that 
 vallys little, for now I hae dune a sma' -vera sma' bit o' 
 gude, and I cou'd die pleasant. As for ye, leddie ; dinna 
 speak on't ! ye cou'd na gang ower seas. But I sal no see 
 Mistress Alice the e'en ; and ye wull just tell her what I've 
 bin savin' about sendin' to Tinwald in theBristo' ship." 
 
 Before Alice rejoined her cousin, she had made a dis 
 covery, which not a little influenced her after determina 
 tion. The letter, she observed, was dated a year ago. She 
 had hoped that hers might have been only delayed, but it 
 was now evidently lost. It appeared that the John Law, 
 to whom it had been enclosed, was abroad in Italy, and 
 hence the delay. Isobel met her, with Partan's suggestion 
 and her own ; and she saw with pleasure that Alice's eyes 
 brightened at the thought. Poor eyes it was long since 
 they had so shone before. 
 
 " Why, indeed, should we not go ? " she exclaimed. " Tin 
 wald is my surest friend, and will best advise us as to our 
 future lives, to say nothing of our very means of existence, 
 which seem to depend upon his information. And America 
 cannot be so very much farther than France; and we both 
 love the sea. And old Janet will gang with us, and Par- 
 tan ; and we will take such care of him, that he shall see his 
 oath was only against crossing the seas for evil purposes, 
 not when he goes to befriend the orphan and her cause." 
 
 Partan was thunderstruck when he heard this determi 
 nation ; but what can a man's argument avail against two 
 female wills ? On learning the date of the letter, the 
 matter appeared to him of the greater urgency ; and then 
 the fear of appearing to yield to his own presentiment, 
 urged him also to consent. The little conclave sat upon 
 the matter ; and after such deliberation as such heads could 
 achieve, they decided to repair to Bristol, and to inform no 
 person at Sandilee of their destination. 
 
 P 
 
226 DAEIEN. 
 
 They were scarcely gone, when "Wafer, urged by Tinwald's 
 letters, sent to inquire for them, and returned to Cartha- 
 gena the vague answer that we have seen in a former 
 chapter. 
 
 At this time, by express treaty with the king of Spain, one 
 ship was permitted, as Partan said, to trade from Bristol to 
 Portobello, in New Spain, each year; and that privilege, 
 like most monopolies, was very much abused. Having 
 embarked our fair cousins on board this vessel, we leave 
 them to pursue their bold enterprise, and return to Alvaro. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The winds and the waves of ocean, 
 
 They rested quietly ; 
 But I heard on the gale a sound of wail, 
 
 There was danger on the sea. 
 
 UHLAND. 
 
 ALTAEO put to sea with a stout ship and a hundred chosen 
 seamen. Although magnificent in liberality and all out 
 ward appearances becoming his station, he was almost as 
 simple in his private habits as his Scotch friend. His sole 
 personal attendant was a faithful slave, named Grhorka, 
 whom he had purchased at Jamaica, and who was now 
 attached to him with almost canine devotedness. 
 
 The Buenaventura sailed prosperously away, pleasant 
 breezes speeding her along that delightful sea ; islands of 
 brilliant beauty now and then appearing and vanishing, as 
 they were approached and left behind in the rapid voyage. 
 [Flying-fish fluttered past them ; dolphins, of good omen, 
 played around their bows. Everything promised well, and 
 contrasted strongly with the manner in which Alvaro had 
 last sailed along those waters. 
 
 One morning, .as the ship was approaching the Mona 
 Passage, between Porto Rico and St. Domingo, the sound 
 of guns was heard. As yet a heavy mist obscured the dis 
 tant view, but the heavy ominous echoes of artillery con 
 tinued to boom along the sea ; and at length, as the breeze 
 rose and the fog disappeared, two vessels were descried 
 
DABIEN. 227 
 
 only a mile to leeward, A large ship, with rent sails and 
 disordered rigging, was yawing about, apparently un 
 manageable ; whilst another ship, with a low dark hull, was 
 almost alongside of her, and pouring in a constant stream of 
 fire, both from guns and small arms. Suddenly the firing 
 ceased, and though the wind was adverse, shrieks could be 
 heard, and the flashing steel that caused them gleamed 
 along the deck. 
 
 Instantly, Alvaro changed his course, and steered for the 
 scene of action ; every rag of canvas was crowded on the 
 masts that bent to the favouring breeze ; and by the time 
 the Buenaventura was cleared for action, she was* alongside 
 the disabled vessel. So intent were the buccaneers (for 
 such they were) upon their prize, that they never perceived 
 the approach of Alvaro, until too late to extricate their 
 crew from the captured vessel. They tried to work the 
 guns of the prize, however, and prepared for a fresh contest 
 with characteristic daring and rapidity. 
 
 The battle was brief, and desperate ; the captain of the 
 buccaneers fell, shot through the legs ; his crew were forced 
 overboard, or lay bleeding upon the deck of their half-con 
 quered prize ; their own ship, with the few hands remain 
 ing on board of her, made all sail to escape, and Alvaro 
 was left in undisputed possession of the stranger. 
 
 But she had suffered fearfully ; scarcely a dozen of her 
 seamen were left alive, and they were, for the most part, 
 wounded. The hatches had been battened down, however, 
 and most of the passengers remained below, as yet unin 
 jured. The sound of women's voices in prayer and lamen 
 tation now rose at intervals, through the loud orders and 
 shouts of the seamen, as they strove to put the ship in 
 order, and the groans or curses of the wounded, as they 
 were examined by the surgeon on the deck. The non- 
 fighting men below believed that they were still in the 
 power of the dreaded buccaneers, and, in the vague instinct 
 of escape, had hidden themselves in the hold; while the 
 poor women were huddled together in the captain's cabin, 
 the windows of which were nearest to the sea, and offered 
 them a last refuge from violence. 
 
 Alvaro hastened below, to dispel their fears. He called 
 gently to those within the cabin to open the door ; but the 
 terrified women were only driven to desperation, and 
 
 p 2 
 
228 DAHIEtf. 
 
 endeavoured to throw themselves into the sea. He burst 
 the door, therefore, and beheld a group of three or four 
 Spanish women, vainly struggling to make a way through 
 the eabin windows ; their dishevelled garments and half- 
 naked forms showing how rudely they had been roused from 
 their sleep. Beside them, were two fair girls exquisitely 
 fair they seemed not struggling and ungarmented like the 
 others, but decently clothed and kneeling together, with 
 hands clasped in prayer. 
 
 The first soft respectful tones of Alvaro's voice seemed 
 to reassure even the Spaniards, and broke their spell of 
 terror. Their companions rose calmly and self-possessed 
 from their knees, as if they had expected succour even when 
 it seemed beyond human possibility. The Spaniards fell 
 at Alvaro's feet, and with loud and vehement demonstrations 
 called him their deliverer. The others, still holding each 
 other by the hand, stood apart, and, with more reserve, ex 
 pressed their gratitude in English. Some sudden emotion 
 seemed to shake the usually calm and self-possessed Moresco, 
 and he broke away from the cabin almost abruptly assur 
 ing the women that their safety and comfort should be his 
 first care. He then walked forward on the deck to hear 
 the surgeon's report of the wounded. 
 
 Only one of the buccaneers, their captain, seemed likely 
 to survive ; a sabre cut upon his brow, besides a gun-shot 
 wound in his legs, rendered even his existence doubtful. 
 His countenance was scarcely visible, owing to wounds and 
 blood ; but his appearance and his white skin bespoke him 
 of some condition. He replied scornfully, in good Spanish, 
 to the surgeon's questions, and only asked to be allowed to 
 die in peace. Alvaro, however (who still felt that the 
 buccaneers had some claim, however qualified, of brother 
 hood upon him), ordered the wounded man to be well cared 
 for, and promised him security. On hearing these orders, 
 the maimed wretch turned, or rather writhed himself slowly 
 round, glared for a moment with his dim bloodshot eye upon 
 his conqueror, and then, with an effort that seemed super 
 human, threw himself overboard. The Spaniards looked 
 coolly after him, thinking he was well disposed of; but Al 
 varo plunged into the sea after him, seized him with a firm 
 grasp, though the buccaneer strove hard to drown his 
 rescuer and himself together, and soon was hoisted on 
 
DAEIEN. 229 
 
 deck, bearing his unwilling companion in his arms. He 
 then committed him once more to the surgeon's care, and 
 ordered the ship to be examined and refitted as soon as 
 possible, in order that she might proceed on her destined 
 course, to Carthagena, whilst he resumed his own towards 
 Europe. 
 
 By this time all the passengers of the rescued ship, ex 
 cept one English sailor, who lay dangerously sick below, 
 had assembled upon deck. Alvaro recognised in one of them 
 an old acquaintance, a merchant of some consideration in 
 Carthagena. From him he learned that the galleon had had 
 a prosperous voyage from Old Spain until that morning ; 
 when, just as day was dawning, they perceived the bucca 
 neers bearing down upon them. Knowing that they were 
 to expect no quarter, they had determined to fight to the 
 last. Their captain had been killed early in the action ; 
 many of the seamen had also fallen, and the ship had been 
 all but lost w r hen so unexpectedly relieved by Alvaro. He 
 added, that besides the ladies (one of whom was his wife), 
 and the merchants, there was an ecclesiastic of Seville and 
 a Spanish officer of high rank on board. Both these last 
 were supposed to be charged with some important commis 
 sion from the Spanish government. The ecclesiastic now 
 came foiward to tender his acknowledgment ; and Alvaro 
 'beheld to his horror a Dominican friar whom he had seen 
 heading the awful procession of the Auto-da-fe six years 
 before. He had seen him but for a moment, yet his aspect 
 had haunted him ever since, and was now as familiar to hi^ 
 imagination as if it had been only yesterday : he beheld in 
 him, as it were, an incarnation of the whole infernal power 
 of the Inquisition. The Moresco mastered his emotion, 
 however, and accepted, though coldly, the acknowledg 
 ments of the man whom on earth he held in greatest horror. 
 But he had pledged his word for his safety, and had it been 
 the devil himself who stood before him, he would have pro 
 tected him. 
 
 As the king's officer came forward in his turn, his speech 
 was interrupted by the cry of " fuego!" from the forecastle; 
 ii thick volume of smoke, at the same time, gushing up from 
 the hold, diffused a sulphurous stench. The ship had been 
 set on fire by one of the quenchless fire-balls that the buc 
 caneers were accustomed to make use of in extremity. It 
 
230 DARIEtf. 
 
 had fallen among bales of silk, which, for some time, smo 
 thered the fierceness of the flame ; bnt it had the more ex 
 tensively and subtly done its work, and the fire was propor 
 tionately destructive. The boats were immediately lowered, 
 and those on board had barely time to put off when the 
 galleon was in flames from stem to stern. However, even 
 the wounded buccaneer and the sick English sailor had been 
 saved. The boats rowed fast towards Alvaro's ship, and 
 almost immediately after they had reached her, the galleon 
 blew up, and no trace was left of the gallant vessel but a 
 few seething planks, and some bubbles on the calm water 
 in which she had gone down. 
 
 Alvaro now felt compelled to return to Carthagena, from 
 whence he was only two days' sail. He accommodated his 
 guests, as well as he was able, in his own ship, and ordered 
 her head to be cast towards the port from which she had so 
 lately sailed. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 thou art fairer than the evening air 
 Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars ! 
 
 MAKLOW'S Faust. 
 
 BEFORE the new passengers on board of Alvaro's ship were 
 settled in their berths, the sky had become dark with 
 masses of vague, billowy clouds, here and there torn 
 asunder, and giving glimpses of thin white vapours hurrying 
 rapidly along the bright blue sky above. Below, all was 
 as yet profoundly, solemnly still ; but the sea, with an in 
 stinct of the coming storm, became disturbed and strangely 
 agitated, changing colour, and tossing up apparently a 
 causeless spray. Faint white flashes of lightning gleamed 
 along the horizon towards the north-west, and every sign 
 of sea and sky preluded the approach of a tornado. The 
 ship was immediately set in order to meet the new enemy ; 
 her lofty spars were lowered upon deck and made fast; 
 every flowing sail, lately spread to the mild favouring 
 breezes, was secured, and two storm staysails were alone 
 set. The ship thus lay motionless upon the swelling sea,. 
 
DAKIEtf. 231 
 
 stripped almost to bare poles ; yet not a breath of air was 
 stirring. Suddenly a wild, whirring, tumultuous noise was 
 heard, as the invisible assailant came rushing over the 
 waters, which changed into one white sheet of foam beneath 
 its wings. It fell upon, the ship like an avalanche, and 
 almost buried her beneath the stroke, until, as if alarmed, 
 she sprang into motion, upraised herself by a violent effort 
 from the waters, and rushed away over the waves, while the 
 storm followed fiercely in pursuit. 
 
 To those who have witnessed the tornado in its wrath, 
 all description must seem tame. Others cannot even pic 
 ture to themselves the terrible change that instantaneously 
 comes over nature when suffering from its assault. The 
 clouds seem precipitated on the waters, the waters upheaved 
 into the clouds ; ominous darkness falls on the dire confu 
 sion, or is only broken by strange, unnatural glares and 
 flashings, whether from above or from below we cannot tell. 
 It seems as if nothing created could resist it, or retain shape 
 amid the distracted chaos, much less that a frail bark could 
 survive such shocks. But the stout human heart, with only 
 that fragile barrier between life and death, can boldly meet 
 the exigency, nerve the firm hand, and inspire the subtle 
 brain to do battle with the spirit of the storm. 
 
 Eor hours of darkness then, and on the succeeding day 
 and night again, Alvaro's ship flew on uninjured before her 
 elemental pursuers. Sometimes, in a momentary relaxation 
 of their power, she seemed to " turn to bay ;" coming up 
 to the wind and lying-to as if to rest herself. But when 
 the storm resumed its chase with renewed vigour, she was 
 once more fain to flee. The low bows and lofty poops of 
 the navies of that period were better adapted for scudding 
 before the wind than for bearing up against it ; hence the 
 numerous mischances which befell navigators of old, driving 
 them far from their intended courses, and not seldom, as in. 
 .Robert Macham's case, rendering them involuntary dis 
 coverers of new lands.* 
 
 It is a mistake to suppose that time passes slowly during 
 intense watchfulness and occupation; on the contrary, it 
 then outstrips calculation. For two days and nights the 
 crew were mustered at their posts, only snatching sleep at 
 
 * See "Washington Irving's interesting account of 'the discovery of 
 the island of Madeira. 
 
232 DAEIEN. 
 
 such intervals and under such circumstances as would seem 
 incredible to those who associate the idea of repose with 
 downy pillows. During all that time, there was scarcely 
 any communication between those above and below the 
 deck, except when a morsel of food or gulp of water was 
 handed up to the mariners. They lost all reckoning: 
 they could only guess that they were driving towards 
 the Caribbee Islands ; and if they struck upon one of 
 them during the night, the fate of such as might survive 
 the sea appeared more horrible than that of the drowned. 
 At length, as the third day was dawning, a shout 6f "land!" 
 broke from every mouth, and many a pale face appeared 
 from below, conjured up by the joyful sound. 
 
 The ship flew on, skirting the southern promontory of a 
 mountainous island : then the helm was put down, and the 
 storm-tossed vessel bounded into smooth water. Delightful 
 was the transition from the howling wilderness of waters 
 into the secure and quiet cove ; hills, gradually towering 
 up in the distance into mountains, surrounded a curved and 
 silver-sanded shore. The island smiled with the freshest 
 verdure ; a river of bright water was seen gleaming through 
 groves of palmetto and cocoa trees ; rocky precipices, seamed 
 with verdant chasms, in which flowers and fruits abounded, 
 were soon discovered. It seemed a perfect paradise to the 
 weary pilgrims of the deep. 
 
 The anchor plunged down, and bit deeply into the weed- 
 tufted sands distinctly visible far below ; the ship swung 
 slowly round; and like men awakening from a frightful dream, 
 the haggard crew gazed on the calm scene round them with 
 wonder, and almost held their breaths with pleased astonish 
 ment. The passengers and people from below soon has 
 tened upon deck to breath the genial fragrant air which by 
 fitful eddies rolled in from the storm that still raged be 
 yond the barriers of the mountain-island. 
 
 The poor Spanish women looked absolutely squalid after 
 their long and terrified imprisonment in a dark cabin. The 
 Spanish officer appeared to little more advantage ; but the 
 friar was one whose aspect or dress scarcely allowed of a 
 change. The English women were the last to appear, and 
 when they did so, there was little to denote that they suf 
 fered. Pale- they were, but the elder lady was always 
 pale, and the cheek of the younger soon flushed into a rosy 
 
DAEIEN. 233 
 
 tint, as delight sent her warm blood dancing through her 
 veins. Alvaro gazed upon her with surprise and admira 
 tion. Until now he had only known the dark-eyed women 
 of Spain, or the more languid beauties of his adopted land. 
 He had been accustomed to consider them, however other 
 wise attractive, only as appendages to the lords of creation, 
 dangerously fascinating, indeed, but merely animal. He 
 now beheld a countenance beaming with thought and bright 
 with purity ; fair ringlets flowed with natural grace over a 
 snow-white forehead, and the blue eyes that shone beneath, 
 appeared to the admiring Moor as something seraphic, yet 
 sweetly human too. 
 
 Her companion was several years older, and care had 
 faded or rather shadowed her beauty. The tones of her 
 voice were sad, and even as she looked with. delight upon 
 the lovely island which afforded so unexpected an asylum, 
 the deep pensiveness of her aspect remained unaltered. 
 Alvaro approached her with profound respect, offering his 
 congratulations in such English as he could command, re 
 gretting, for her sake, the casualty that had prolonged their 
 voyage. Whilst he was speaking, the captain of the ship 
 hastily approached Alvaro, and pointed out a swarm of 
 canoes coming round the neighbouring point. 
 
 " They come as enemies, sir," said the old sailor ; " no 
 thing else was ever found among these islands, and this surely 
 is one of the Caribbees, and the savages hereabouts are all 
 fierce and warlike men, fighting to the death, and devouring 
 those whom they make prisoners." 
 
 Once more the unhappy passengers were obliged to seek 
 safety under deck, while preparations were made to receive 
 the unexpected assailants. 
 
 Multifarious, indeed, were the dangers that beset the 
 mariners of those early times, and guarded the rich regions 
 of the west. Tornadoes, buccaneers, coral reefs, and, lastly, 
 savages, who w r aged war, and cherished but too well-founded 
 a, hatred against every white man. Hence, careful prepa 
 rations for offence and defence was necessary in the mer 
 chant-vessels of those seas. These were now promptly 
 renewed, and every seaman was ready at his gun before 
 their daring enemies approached. Alvaro was desirous, for 
 many reasons, not to be forced into an inglorious contest, 
 and watched the appearance of the Caribs with anxious 
 
234 DAEIEtf. 
 
 interest. They ceased paddling, and formed in one long 
 line abreast when they were within musket-shot. To the 
 surprise of all on board, three or four of the canoes were 
 filled with black men, who presented, with their coarse, 
 crisp heads, as strong a contrast to their red companions as 
 to the whites. Grhorka at once recognised his countrymen, 
 and after exchanging a few words with Alvaro, leaped over 
 board, and fearlessly swam out to meet them. He was 
 observed to enter one of the canoes, which almost imme 
 diately started out from amongst its comrades, and pulled 
 towards the ship. Grhorka sat in the stern in great triumph, 
 and soon announced to his master that the islanders were 
 his friends, and ready to afford him all the civilities in their 
 power.* Ghorka's companions were immediately invited 
 on board, treated with kindness, and despatched to their 
 companions with gifts very precious in their sight. Thence 
 forth the natives not only desisted from all hostilities, but 
 supplied the ship with the delicious wild fruits that 
 abounded in the island, speared turtle for them, presented 
 them with quantities of the excellent cat-fishf of the seas, 
 and the fine mullet that abounds in the rivers. 
 
 Not only during the storm, but some days afterwards, 
 while the sailors w^ere repairing damages, Alvaro and his 
 passengers passed most of their time ashore. The former 
 was never weary of exploring the strangely-beautiful fea 
 tures of the island. 
 
 Huts had been erected on a neighbouring hill, for the sick 
 and wounded ; but at the request of the English women, 
 their poor friend and follower was accommodated with a 
 tent to himself. There, in almost affectionate attendance 
 upon him, these ladies passed most of their time. Their 
 
 * Towards the end of the seventeenth century, a slaver from Guinea 
 was wrecked upon the island of St. Vincent, one of the Windward 
 group : the whites were all slain and devoured, but the negroes were 
 honourably treated, received into the Carib community, and obtained 
 settlements among them. In the course of time, the negroes obtained 
 the ascendant, and confined their former hosts to one corner of their 
 beautiful island. 
 
 f This fish is furnished with long sharp spines that seem poisonous : 
 he is besides so daring and ferocious as to attack men while swimming, 
 and is greatly feared by the pearl-divers, who consider the wounds 
 received from his spines as fatal ; he is excellent and nutritious food, 
 bowever. 
 
DAKIEtf. 235 
 
 patient was a rugged-looking, storm-beaten old man, who 
 had unaccountably sickened soon after leaving the Azores, 
 where they had transhipped themselves from an English 
 vessel bound for the slave-coast of Africa. He seemed to 
 suifer only from debility and nervous prostration, and 
 rallied, with apparently great effort, whenever he was 
 spoken to by either of his countrywomen. The ship's 
 surgeon, therefore, after the first day or two, desired that 
 they should but seldom visit him ; and so they were left 
 free to wander about that lovely island while they remained 
 there. And, in truth, Alvaro was in no hurry to be gone 
 from thence. The society of his English guests became 
 daily more agreeable more necessary to hirn ; and his was 
 not a nature to be reserved -or guarded in any enjoyment 
 on which he once entered. He so rarely allowed himself 
 an indulgence, that pleasure had the more power over his 
 impetuous soul, if once he yielded to its influence. He now 
 seemed spell-bound by the society in which he first found 
 any true communion of spirit. An aspiration of his long 
 lonely heart was fulfilled ; a new sphere of thought, feeling, 
 and imagination was laid open to him. His feelings towards 
 his young companion were of that chivalrous and almost 
 adoring kind that we read of in very old romances, and 
 sometimes witness in very young men. 
 
 Alvaro's demeanour was probably somewhat unintelli 
 gible to those whom he delighted to honour. They did 
 not understand the chivalrous esteem in which he held 
 them; nor could they calculate on the advantage which 
 they held in his eyes, by contrast with his own unculti 
 vated countrywomen. They saw in him a man of great 
 wealth and power, and, as it seemed to them, of super 
 human knowledge. With all these gifts, and youth, and 
 noble features and form to enhance them, they saw him, 
 the arbiter of their destiny, apparently their slave. He 
 deferred to their slightest wishes ; he addressed them with 
 timid respect, whilst he was haughty and distant to every 
 one else. This very mystery lent, perhaps, an additional 
 charm to the society of the fair strangers. Their hesi 
 tating manner and inquiring looks had, as well as their 
 natural dignity and reserve, a certain charm for him. 
 
 On one point, however, the English ladies were very 
 explicit: they detested the Dominican friar, who, in ad- 
 
236 DAEIEtf. 
 
 dition to other importunities, bad endeavoured to convert 
 them ; and that in a dogmatic and intrusive manner that 
 was unfavourable to his success. He had watched their 
 every movement. By night, upon the deck, at whatever 
 hour they ascended to breathe the air, he was before them, 
 and met 'them with his soft manner and feline eyes. By 
 day, and in storm and in calm, he tried never to lose sight 
 of them ; until at length they began to feel like the victims 
 of the rattlesnake, fascinated by a power at which they 
 shuddered. The elder of the Englishwomen made this 
 confession to Alvaro, one evening, as they returned from 
 a long excursion on the shore: 
 
 "And there!" she exclaimed; "there he is again, with 
 a new disciple!" 
 
 There, indeed, at the foot of a tall tree, sat the friar, 
 with Grhorka by his side : the former apparently exhorting 
 the negro in his most persuasive manner ; while the latter 
 listened with what was meant for a stolid look ; but his 
 quick, keen eyes betrayed his uneasiness and keen watch 
 fulness of his companion. 
 
 That night the ship left her anchorage, and sailed for 
 Carthagena. The elder of the English ladies appeared 
 glad to be once more upon her way; her sister frankly 
 lamented leaving the beautiful island, where they had 
 found such a safe asylum, and such a dangerous en 
 joyment. Alvaro was too full of happiness to think 
 of sorrow, past or present. He reclined upon the 
 deck, by the fair young stranger's side, while the stars 
 poured down their golden shower of rays, that seemed to 
 plash in the purple waves : the sky above it, and the sea 
 beneath, the present and the future world which they 
 symbolized, and the radiant face upturned to his, ail 
 appeared blended in one glorious scheme of happiness. 
 Storm or calm, land or sea, Europe or America were 
 all indifferent to him. The cup of delight sparkled at his 
 lip, and he drained it rapturously and recklessly. 
 
 At length the companions of his charmed vigil retired to 
 rest, and he once more lay down where they had been, to 
 ruminate the bygone hours, and in imagination to taste 
 them once again. The night was still calm, the waves 
 plashed, the sails undulated softly in the breeze, and the 
 various lulling noises of a ship in gentle motion fell un- 
 
DABIEtf. 237 
 
 noticed on his ear. But not so a low stealthy sound 
 approaching him through the shadow of the bulwarks : 
 within the little world of ohip-board every stir is notice 
 able, whatever be the weather without. Alvaro was turn 
 ing round, when a well-known voice whispered softly, 
 "Hush!" It was Grhorka, who, with his dusky form still 
 concealed in shadow, stole close to his master's ear, 
 
 "Massa!" he whispered, in English, which, though his 
 chief acquirement at Jamaica, he seldom used : " Massa, 
 there bery much danger in dis sip ; gib me little word, and 
 it go overboard. Dat black feller (not in skin, but in 
 toggry) mean mischief to massa. 
 
 " He is one pries," the negro continued, after a short 
 pause, in which he watched attentively for any sound that 
 might betoken a listener ; " he is one pries, or what dem 
 people at Haiti call Butio ; and he hab little Zeme,* what 
 we say fetish, in his cabin. Ver' bad fetish ; him tell him 
 much wicked ting. He pray to him, and call him Saint 
 Nick." [Dominic, probably.] 
 
 " My good Grhorka," replied Alvaro, " what has this 
 fetish or Butio to say to me ? or how comes it to terrify 
 your bold heart?" 
 
 "Ah, massa!" whispered the poor negro, "my heart 
 berry bold agin what I can stab or 'tick, or kick agin ; but 
 de dam little fetish, dat say nothing, yet tell pries ebery- 
 ting, fright me berry great deal. De pries tell me one, 
 two little ting, and make me seem to tell him mush ; and 
 after little talkee, him tell me all about massa, and said if 
 it not true ? and he bid me tell no one, or fetish Nick, who 
 tell him eberyting, will go down me troat, and 'tick very 
 much in gizzard till Ghorka die. Ah! Grhorka feel him 
 now ; but Grhorka must tell massa all, and den dam fetish 
 do him worst." 
 
 * The people of the New World, when first discovered, were sup 
 posed to have no religion ; but it was soon found that they had a 
 regular priesthood named butios: that they believed in a Supreme 
 Being, without father ; offspring of a mother only. They held this 
 Being in such awe, that they only worshipped him through certain 
 idols called Zemi. These Zeiiii had houses apart, one to each family. 
 Each individual, also, had a Zemi if he chose ; to this office he might 
 elect any favourite animal. Dogs, parrots, and other creatures were 
 the Zemig of Haitians, and regarded by them with veneration when 
 elected. 
 
238 DAEIEtf. 
 
 The negro proceeded at great length, to say that the friar 
 had been making many diligent inquiries about Alvaro ; that 
 he had made out from poor Grhorka that his master had been 
 wrecked from a French ship, and seemed thereby to have 
 caught a clue, by means of which he had told Ghorka 
 many things that he could not deny, believing them to be 
 an inspiration of the fetish. In short, by a sort of instinct, 
 he saw that the friar had designs not favourable to his 
 master, and the negro concluded by imploring permission 
 to throw him overboard the first opportunity. 
 
 Alvaro laughed at his servant's fears, and dismissed him 
 with injunctions to comport himself peaceably and respect 
 fully towards the proprietor of the obnoxious fetish, to 
 whose agency the negro did not scruple to attribute the 
 late storm. 
 
 When Grhorka had retired, however, Alvaro reflected 
 deeply on his information. It occurred to him that the 
 ever- watchful Inquisitors might have obtained the clue to 
 his identity, and he could not help suspecting that the 
 ecclesiastic's mission to Carthagena was connected in some 
 manner with his own fate. 
 
 The next morning he took occasion to address the Spa 
 nish officer, and to inquire from him what his business was 
 in Carthagena, and whether it was essential for him to 
 proceed thither, as he had some intention of making an 
 other port. The officer referred his questioner to the friar, 
 upon whom, he said, he had been appointed to attend, for 
 an affair of which he was in utter ignorance. Alvaro be 
 lieved that he spoke truth, and observing the friar just 
 ascending from his cabin, he announced to him a change 
 in his intentions, and that he feared he should be obliged 
 to land him at Jamaica, where he had some commercial 
 business to transact. The friar declared that he also had 
 changed his intentions, which now were to return to Spain ; 
 and that he hoped Alvaro, as a true Catholic and faithful 
 subject of his king, would give him a passage thither. 
 Alvaro replied, that he would think of it, and turned 
 away to greet the Englishwomen, in whose society he 
 soon forgot everything else, even to alter his course for 
 Jamaica. 
 
 Two more happy days passed by. There are no circum 
 stances more favourable to such conversations as he now 
 
DAEIEK. 239 
 
 hourly held with his fair charges, than the delightful 
 leisure and isolation we enjoy while sailing over smooth 
 seas in summer weather. Tbere are no distractions, there 
 is no dissonance; all is in harmony, and hearts lie dan 
 gerously open. 
 
 It was almost with dissatisfaction that at length Alvaro 
 heard the cry of "Land!" but it was only a momentary 
 feeling. His pilot pronounced the land to be the pro 
 montory of Osthook, the northernmost point of what is 
 now called the Island of Cura9oa. The ship was ordered 
 to stand for the shore, and as soon as she had come to an. 
 anchor, the boat was lowered, and Alvaro civilly invited the 
 friar to accompany him to land. At the same time, he 
 gave the Spanish officer the choice of accompanying his 
 reverence or not, as he confessed that he was not intended 
 to return. The friar argued angrily against such treat 
 ment to a commissioner from the Spanish crown. Alvaro 
 replied, that if he would favour him with a sight of his 
 commission, he would take him to his destination. The 
 friar hesitated, and finally, without further parley, entered 
 the boat with his officer. The wounded buccaneer asked 
 for permission to accompany them, and was likewise rowed 
 ashore. This transaction being over, the boat was taken 
 on board once more, and the ship's course was laid for 
 Carthagena. 
 
240 DAEIEX. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 There she sees a damsel bright, 
 Dress'd in a silken robe of white, 
 That shadowy in the moonlight shone : 
 The neck that made that white robe wan, 
 Her stately neck, and arms were bare ; 
 Her blue vein'd feet unsandal'd were, 
 And mildly glitter'd here and there 
 The gems entangled in her hair. 
 I guess, 't was frightful there to see 
 A lady so richly clad as she 
 Beautiful exceedingly ! 
 
 COLERIDGE. 
 
 WHILE the chief of the house was thus employed at sea, 
 the business at home went on in the usual routine. Ships- 
 arrived in the Bocca Chica, and poured their wealth into 
 the great merchant's stores. Swarthy half-naked porters 
 swarmed about the docks in busy gangs. Pulleys creaked 
 and chains rattled beneath the weight of costly bales. 
 
 "Within, the large counting-house was filled with clerks, 
 desks, and ledgers. A perfect nutter of pens fanned the 
 air that sighed in languidly through the large open win 
 dows ; bearing on its breath a faint geranium perfume, 
 mingled with that of cinnamon and vanilla, yea, and like 
 wise of hides, and tallow, and reeking negroes. Inside the 
 larger room was a smaller one, furnished in the simplest 
 manner with plain wooden chairs and two plain tables, at 
 which was seated the reputed second partner of the house. 
 Paterson was a man of grave and firm, yet mild aspect. He 
 w T as now scarcely thirty years of age, yet care and earnest 
 thought had hurried on the traces of maturer years. The 
 hair had already receded from his high smooth forehead, 
 but dark and plentiful eyebrows shadowed the sunken clear 
 blue eyes, which intemperance had never dimmed. 
 
 The thoughts of this lonely man never seemed to wander 
 from the papers before him, except to glance at some maps 
 and charts ranged along the walls, probably illustrating the 
 interests which he was there superintending. There he 
 had witnessed, and in no small degree contributed to, the 
 accumulation of enormous wealth j but he claimed no share 
 
DAEIEN. 241 
 
 in it. Alvaro always considered him and spoke of him as 
 his partner, but this his unselfish spirit would not acknow 
 ledge. In order to avoid dispute, he took care that the 
 question never should be raised, and meanwhile he con 
 tented himself with the modest income of a chief clerk. 
 He never regarded wealth but as an instrument for pro 
 moting the cammon good, the mere agency of which was to 
 him its own reward. The only strictly personal hope of 
 happiness he had ever known was long since dead within 
 him ; and there is no such promoter of the happiness of 
 others as one who has no more any of his own to occupy 
 his thoughts. 
 
 This singular man was sitting as we have described, 
 when a confused noise attracted his attention. Of all the 
 clerks in the adjoining room, he then observed that not one 
 was at his post : all were crowded round the windows, and 
 at length one of them announced the general belief that 
 Alvaro' s ship was just then returning into harbour. 
 
 Such was indeed the case : her boat had already landed, 
 and in a few moments more Alvaro grasped his hand. He 
 explained in a few words the reason of this return, and told 
 him of the guests he had entertained on board in such 
 terms as made the heart of Paterson beat quick. He 
 pointed out the ladies as they were advancing from the 
 quay, and inquired whether his friend would surrender for 
 their use his house upon the Bocca Chica: adding that 
 they would naturally be more at their ease there than in 
 his palacio. Paterson's eyes followed the direction of 
 A.lvaro's eager glance, and he suddenly became deadly pale. 
 He staggered backward to his chair and sank slowly on his 
 knees, burying his face in his hands. " And was it come 
 to this ?" he thought. " Were his prayers at length an 
 swered, and thus ? That he should again behold his long- 
 lost Alice, and find her again beloved, and by a friend ? " 
 for with a lover's quickness he perceived how much Alvaro' s 
 mind was occupied with his guests; and with a lover's 
 superstition he believed it impossible for any one to know 
 Alice and not to love her. 
 
 But this paroxysm of feeling, however acute, soon yielded 
 to his habitual self-command. He resumed his natural de 
 portment, and told Alvaro that he already knew the lady 
 whom he saw, and that all he had was at her disposal : that 
 
 Q 
 
242 
 
 he rejoiced to find Alvaro had offered the strangers the 
 house of their countryman, as they would not, he was sure, 
 have consented to occupy any other. It was now Alvaro' s 
 turn to feel jealousy, with him a very different passion. 
 He seized his partner's arm, and hurried out into the 
 verandah, which the object of Alvaro's admiration had 
 already reached, and was there sheltering hlrself beneath 
 its wide shadow from the burning sun. Her companion, 
 more anxious or hesitating, had paused outside to await 
 Alvaro's return. They had both preserved complete silence 
 as to Tinwald ; fearing misconstruction from a stranger in 
 what was, under any circumstances, a delicate position. 
 
 "When the two partners presented themselves in the 
 verandah, Alvaro observed with joy that Isobel's hasty 
 glance was withdrawn from Tinwald as from a stranger, 
 and met with a look of inquiry. When Tinwald' s name 
 was mentioned, she frankly presented her hand to him, 
 saying, 
 
 " Ah ! this is, then, the gentleman whom we wanted to 
 see so much, I mean, who was to transact our business ; 
 is it not, Alice ? " 
 
 Then Alice came forward, and she and Tinwald met, to 
 a stranger's eye, as if they had been old but formal friends. 
 The Moresco observed the staid meeting with wondering 
 eyes ; and then, with infinite satisfaction, proposed to ac 
 company them to his friend's house, which they consented 
 to occupy until a suitable one of their own could be pre 
 pared. They were with some difficulty prevailed upon to 
 enter the palanquins that waited for them, and old Nurse 
 Janet absolutely refused " siccon onchristian-like" accom 
 modation. At length the party reached a long covered 
 way that led to Tinwald's modest dwelling. None of the 
 prevalent Carthagenian magnificence was visible ; but there 
 was the usual fountain, and it cast its refreshing spray on 
 collections, made with infinite care, of heather and hare 
 bells, and even daisies and thistles, substituted by the Scot 
 for the glow of fragrant flowers. The humble exotics 
 looked faint and drooping, it is true ; but never, when 
 treading their luxuriance under foot on their native hills, 
 had the loveliest wild flowers so charmed the forlorn wan 
 derers as did these poor types of home in a far distant 
 land. They inspired at once a home-like feeling, and old 
 
DAKIEF. 243 
 
 Janet was in raptures. Their host, too much gratified, 
 and far too happy, to use many words, hastened to recruit 
 his small establishment with such servants as they might 
 require ; and the two cousins were left to repose after 
 their fatigues. Partan soon afterwards arrived with their 
 small possessions from the ship. He had been detained on 
 the way by Tinwald, who, with some sort of disappoint 
 ment, learned that business was indeed the main if not 
 the only inducement for the voyage that Alice had just 
 performed. 
 
 " 'Twad hae been o' sma' use my coming my lane," 
 added Partan, " far weel I ken, I shall never return to 
 Scottish land ; sae even if I cou'd hae left the puir bairns 
 at Sandilee, and come to you, it wadna hae availed. Nay, 
 nay, Tinwald, dinna seek to gainsay the doom that is on 
 me. I hae been sair sick, tho' I'm stranger the noo ; but 
 whether by steel or sickness or saut water, my race is run, 
 since I crossed the seas. But my duty is dune, too, and 
 sae I dinna care. The bit bairns 'ill now find a far better 
 friend in you, than a broken auld carle like mysel' cou'd 
 ever hae been to them." As he spoke, the old sailor an 
 grily drew his hand across his eyes to wipe away the trea 
 cherous tear that had started into them ; not for his own 
 doom, which lie felt was sealed; but for the "bairns," who 
 became hourly more dear to him. 
 
 "But what will this mean ? " he continued, after a few 
 minutes' pause, as soon as he could trust his voice to have 
 resumed its gruifness of tone. "Here is the screed o' 
 paper that has brought us sae far (besides the wish to see 
 you, Master Willie) : I'm na scholard mysel', and it's only 
 by Mistress Alice's larnin' I made it out, as far as it can 
 be made out." 
 
 Tinwald took the paper and considered it attentively. 
 At length he said, with a melancholy smile that he could 
 not entirely repress, 
 
 " This is quite in character with our poor old friend. 
 His mind, ever since that unlucky evening when you spoke 
 of the Deadman's Isle, had been running upon buried trea 
 sure, until at last he began to think that burial was a sort 
 of rite that was due to money. I remember now that he 
 told me he had not learned confidence in any one alive 
 .sufficient to entrust his savings to their hands ; and that he 
 
 Q 2 
 
244 DAEIEN. 
 
 had resolved to bury them, as the wise old buccaneers 
 were wont to do. I laughed at his notion, but he per 
 severed in it very solemnly, and said that, if anything hap 
 pened to him, I should find he had not been jesting on so 
 serious a matter. But that is all the light I can throw 
 upon the subject." 
 
 "And it's no sma' licht neither," rejoined Partan ; " the 
 puir auld man seldom stirred ayont his door after you went 
 away. But twa or three times after he had got siller, he 
 wad be very restless for a day or sae, like a hen that wants 
 to lay an egg ; and then he would hobble (as I heard) out 
 into the kail-yard in the groamin', and was well nigh killed 
 by each attempt to do't. An' at last, when he received the 
 mortgage money out o' the sales o' the manor-house, he 
 took one mair walk, and then he sickened on't for the last 
 time." 
 
 " You have, probably, solved this riddle," Tinwald re 
 plied ; " and I dare say we shall find some signs upon the 
 paper to mark the spot. But now you ought to go on your 
 way to Mistress Alice. Send after me for anything they 
 may require, to Don Alvaro's palace, you will easily find 
 the way : it lies yonder, with a tower and gardens." 
 
 " I ken the way unco weel, and sae does Lawrence," 
 muttered the old buccaneer, as he resumed his march to 
 wards Tinwald' s house, along the very cliff where Marina 
 had lingered but a fortnight before. A sudden recollection 
 struck the old sailor, and he called after Tinwald. 
 
 " I forgot to tell you," he resumed ; " that the captain's 
 no dead, as ye thought." 
 
 " Not dead, and you know it ? " exclaimed Tinwald. 
 
 " He's no dead," repeated the old sailor, " and I doubt if 
 ever he wul be ; I hae seen him in auld times gang through 
 wi'out injury what wad hae killed a dizzen ither folk ; and 
 within the last fortnight, I shot him mysel' wi' a siller 
 button, and saw him struck wi' an axe, besides, that ought 
 to have cloved his skull. It was he, I tell you, that com 
 manded the sma' pirate thing that attacked our ship. I 
 was laid up in my hammock wi' sair sickness, and knew 
 naught on't till the firing began, and I heard the battle 
 cry (well I knew it) of Lawrence as he boarded. Weel y 
 I crawled out o' my hammock, and took up a dead man's 
 pistol, and put a siller button in it (for I ken'd that lead 
 
DAEIEN. 245 
 
 wad do nothing to the like o' him), and fired ; and I shot 
 hinr through the legs, my aim bein' unsteady, and but for 
 that shot and the bullet being siller, he wad no hae lost his 
 prize, or yon gran' Span'erd's ship either ; though the Don 
 fought like a fury, it must be confessed, and was as kind 
 after as a child. Weel, when I had gi'en my shot, I fell 
 back in a swound, and found myself, when I woke up agin, 
 in your Span'erd's ship. Sae Lawrence is abroad agin, and 
 was landed at Osthook three days syne, and he pretty lively. 
 I'm glad on't for ray part ; for I wad na hae raised a hand 
 agin him but for the bairns' sake ; though he did think to 
 drown me in Solway, as I minded weel whan I was sick, 
 and a clear memory* came back to me in the lang wakefu' 
 nichts." 
 
 Tinwald was somewhat troubled at this intelligence, 
 though he had grieved for the bold buccaneer when he 
 thought of him as fairly dead. But Marina's story had 
 separated him conclusively from Alice ; and even if Tin 
 wald' s knowledge of a buccaneer's true character had not 
 influenced him, he no longer felt any scruple about sup 
 planting him. Accordingly, he proceeded in the evening to 
 meet her with as much confidence as his nature would 
 permit. 
 
 In their native country the fair wanderers would have 
 sought shelter from the breeze, and seated themselves in 
 the sunniest spot ; now they felt how far distant they were 
 from home, when they avoided the sunshine as an enemy, 
 and sought every cooling breath of air as a pleasant friend. 
 The sun was sinking into a glorious pile of clouds, and the 
 sea-breeze, awakening with the evening stars, began to 
 steal over the waters, and to soothe the earth after the 
 fiery trial it had so long endured. All nature revived at the 
 same time, like the household of the Sleeping Beauty at the 
 magic kiss. Trees rustled, birds sang, waves murmured, 
 flowers expanded and breathed out their long-imprisoned 
 odours. Man roused himself to exercise ; woman awoke to 
 the great business of her life;* fans fluttered, muslins 
 rustled, and sweet voices began the pleasant, objectless talk 
 
 * That is, in Spanish America. Of course the author does not allude 
 to England, or even to France. 
 
246 DAEIEtf. 
 
 which ripples and sparkles from their tongues, as the spray 
 does in a ship's wake, and leaves as little trace behind it. 
 
 Beneath the verandah of Tinwald's house sat Alice and 
 Isobel, who had revived, like the American world around 
 them, from the universal siesta. While they had been 
 resting, all the luxuries that Alvaro could imagine for them 
 had been provided by the efforts of a hundred slaves. They 
 had closed their eyes upon the plainest furniture, and the 
 simplest arrangements of a bachelor's menage ; they awoke 
 to a display of magnificence such as they had never even 
 dreamed of. Delicious flowers bloomed in the costliest 
 vases ; transparent draperies, embroidered exquisitely with 
 gold, now floated over the plain whitewashed walls ; mats 
 of rich texture and most delicate colours concealed the 
 rough stone floors ; perfumed water played in the fountain ; 
 and gold and enamel contrasted with ebony and mother-of- 
 pearl, shone in such gracefully-shaped furniture as fairies 
 might enjoy the use of, if they could become corporeal. 
 
 Isobel looked round her with pride, as well as with, 
 delight. She felt that all this bright magical change had 
 been effected for her sake ; and the splendour would have 
 appeared to her to fade at once, if the sentiment with 
 which it was associated had been removed. 
 
 Alice was very differently affected by all that she now 
 beheld. To her, the manly simplicity of the house, as they 
 had first found it, was far more attractive ; in that there 
 was character ; in this there was mere upholstery. The 
 unpretending Paterson assumed new interest in her eyes ; 
 the magnificent Alvaro sank in proportion. But the sin 
 gularly assorted friends were now approaching, as was 
 announced by a gigantic black slave, who came to know if 
 their visit would be acceptable. 
 
 Alice and her fair cousin reclined (it is impossible and 
 unnatural to sit bolt upright in the tropics) 011 a low and 
 long and wide divan, that looked out from beneath the 
 widely-eaved house upon the water. Finding that, for 
 once, their impressions did not harmonize, each sat in 
 silence, thinking her own thoughts, and awaiting with very 
 different anticipations the arrival of the two friends. 
 
 There was scarcely a greater contrast between the two- 
 partners the humble-minded Christian Scot, and th& 
 
DAEIEN. 247 
 
 proud, chivalrous Moresco than between the two cousins, 
 who were henceforth to be involved in their destiny. Alice 
 was black-haired and darkly-eyed, and her pale cheek looked 
 paler from the long lashes that were now generally down 
 cast, and seemed to throw a shadow over them. The wild 
 and wayward and arch beauty of Sandilee had been chastened 
 by sorrow, and sobered into pensive moods ; for the mind, 
 like the willow, once bent downward, continues to expatiate 
 in the same direction : once the natural happiness and high 
 spirit of the heart are gone, they are seldom recoverable. 
 But Isobel was buoyant with life, and rejoicing in all its 
 myriad hopes that dance like bright-winged insects in the 
 sunshine of the young and innocent mind. Romance and 
 enthusiasm still gave a glowing lustre to her eyes, and con 
 verted into innumerable pleasant allegories all the changing 
 scenes of life. Her cheeks' rosy colouring, and the fair hair 
 that massed itself " into clouds and sunshine over her angel 
 brow," appeared of supernatural beauty in the Moresco' s 
 eyes ; and through the brightest sallies of her conversation 
 there were glimpses of a deeper sentiment and a more 
 solemn fancy, which strongly impressed his imagination. 
 He had observed her sometimes in the midst of a merry 
 laugh, when by chance the mystery of another world was 
 alluded to, suddenly become grave and thoughtful, fix her 
 blue eyes upon their kindred sky, and appear for a few 
 moments tranced in unutterable thought. He felt op 
 pressed, he scarcely knew why, at such times ; and a vague 
 feeling of jealous fear that she loved something mightier 
 than him would then come over him like a darkness. He 
 knew, from long and anxious conversations with Pater- 
 son, how wide a difference there was between himself and 
 any Christian soul in one respect ; and he knew that all 
 sympathies between Isobel and himself must be bounded 
 by the narrow time and space of this mortal life. 
 
 All this was then unknown to her, however. She could 
 not, with all her vividness of imagination, conceive the 
 situation of an immortal soul ignorant of, or denying, its 
 immortality. And when, at last, the possibility of such 
 things forced itself on her mind, she shuddered and believed 
 it ; but still she found it unintelligible. 
 
 They met now, and for this time, at least, no such cloud 
 or fear obscured their mutual happiness. They retraced all 
 
2-18 DAHIEN. 
 
 the incidents of their voyage : they talked of the strange, 
 bright, dreamy new world in which they found themselves. 
 Isobel had very wonderful things to relate to Alvaro of her 
 native land, and Alvaro had still greater marvels to relate 
 of his tropical home. But the curious world of life that 
 peopled the air, and earth, and ocean round them, had little 
 real interest for Isobel. All life, all strength, all beauty, 
 all intelligence, appeared to her to be concentrated in that 
 one comely form that stood beside her, within that majes 
 tic brow, within those clear dark eyes. Every word he 
 spoke to her was eloquent : not only the vast continent, 
 with its immeasurable forests and ocean lakes, appeared 
 great in his description ; but the spectral shark, the vam 
 pire bat, and the howling baboon, assumed something of 
 romantic interest ; probably the insinuating jigger himself, 
 and the very land-crab, would have become invested with a 
 grace in the sonorous but sweet words of the eloquent Mo- 
 resco. Let us not wonder that they could speak of such 
 things at such a time. They had both an instinctive fear 
 of speaking their real thoughts ; and exclusive of them, 
 one subject w r as as agreeable a-s another, and equally a 
 medium of happiness to the ear. 
 
 Very different was the conversation that passed between 
 Alice and her long-sought and cherished friend. The nar 
 rative of her life was simply and truthfully given, except, 
 perhaps, that she laid more stress upon the worldly motive 
 of her long voyage than was altogether justifiable in the 
 eye of impartial truth. She carefully avoided allusion to 
 anything that had ever passed between them in their younger 
 days. She carefully repressed (as she had learned by hard 
 experience to do) all signs of feeling ; and Tinwald found 
 himself treated as a mere man of business as the merchant 
 of Carthagena, and in nowise as the Willie of Sandilee. 
 All the tender visions he had begun to cherish must again 
 be set aside ; he must now regard their object merely as 
 an unprotected orphan whom it was his duty to befriend ! 
 As his changed thoughts expressed themselves on his coun 
 tenance, which Alice was watching intensely, notwithstand 
 ing her downcast eyes, she; continued, in a more soothing 
 voice, 
 
 " You will not think me too forward (as once you did) if 
 I tell you that I passed much time with your father in his 
 
DABIEtf. 249 
 
 latter days ; and I much fear that the good laird was a 
 little hardly dealt with I mean in the matter of the money 
 that he had from my poor father who, if he had been 
 clearer in his mind, would not have left me your debtor, as 
 I know I am. Partan tells me that you will probably be 
 able to furnish me with means to repay my debt, and most 
 gladly will I do so." 
 
 Tinwald well knew that old Tarn had cheated his father 
 in no small degree, besides charging him the most usurious 
 interest ; but he would have allowed himself to be beggared, 
 before he had attempted to recover any of his patrimony from 
 the orphan, whose guardian he now felt that he was consti 
 tuted. It was very trying to a man of keen sensibilities to find 
 himself, after so long an absence, with the woman to whom 
 he had devoted his whole heart, and to discover that the 
 topic selected by her was one that would have better suited 
 a solicitor of another stamp. He endeavoured to turn the 
 thoughts, or rather the words, of Alice into a new channel, 
 observing, with some of the freedom of an old acquaintance, 
 that the only subject on which it was possible for her to 
 give offence was that to which she had thus alluded. " For 
 ward ! " he continued, " how could you, all delicacy and 
 refinement, apply such a word, even in jest, to yourself? " 
 
 A world of memories connected with the old castle of 
 Caerlaverock and the porch of the Peel-house, rushed back 
 upon her mind, as Alice replied, 
 
 "I am glad we now know each other more truly than we 
 did in former days." There was nothing in these words, 
 except an arch though timid reproach ; but in the look that 
 accompanied them full of the unuttered thoughts that had 
 filled each heart for many years there was a speech which 
 repaid Tinwald for many a sore and self-denying struggle. 
 Yielding to the impulse of the moment he seized her hand. 
 It was instantly withdrawn : the haughty and coquettish 
 spirit of other times for a moment repossessed Alice ; she 
 could not resist the temptation of making him feel what 
 once she felt ; and besides, she recolleted the delicacy of 
 her position as his self-invited guest. 
 
 "I fear you will again misunderstand me," she said, 
 coldly ; " and that I may be trespassing too long upon your 
 time with my small affairs. Perhaps in a day or two you 
 will find leisure to renew the subject ; and this being dis- 
 
250 BABIED. 
 
 posed of, that you will advise with us on the best means of 
 returning to poor Sandilee." Oh, Alice ! was this woman's 
 magnanimity ? Had the high-hearted man who stood before 
 you yielded to his own natural impulse long ago, you had 
 not had such power to taunt him now : no wrong that man 
 can commit towards woman is so unpardonable as that of 
 caring more for her best interests than she may have done 
 for her own. But it is only in woman's liuman nature, 
 after all, that such injustice lingers ; her heavenly nature 
 appreciates it the more ; and the latter might have made 
 itself heard in the softened, touching tones of her last words, 
 if he who listened had been less diffident than Paterson. 
 The taunt had told upon him deeply ; he recoiled from him 
 self with shame, and the ardent speaker of a few moments 
 before had collapsed, as it were, into the subdued and worn- 
 looking workman. 
 
 "It shall be so," he said; "I have been very wrong, I 
 have presumed, perhaps, on a kindness which another alto 
 gether claims. Your wishes, lady, shall be now obeyed." 
 A silence succeeded. Alice did not seem so grateful as she 
 should have been, for his acquiescence, and began to wonder 
 fearfully whether some new ties might not have obliterated 
 all remembrance of the love which she knew he had once 
 cherished for her alone. Tinwald felt the awkwardness of 
 the pause, and attempted timidly to withdraw. The eyes 
 of Alice were moistened with a reproachful tear as she 
 looked up to her too ceremonious companion. 
 
 " One word," she said, resuming something of her old loving 
 petulance, " one word more before you are so very thoughtful 
 as to leave me. I have seen Lawrence ! yes, I have seen him 
 within the last few days, more changed than I thought was 
 possible without the alteration of the grave. I saw him, 
 with a fearfully mutilated face, on the deck of your brave 
 friend's ship. He recognised me, too, and muttered in 
 English, which no one else understood, as he was carried 
 by, ' It was you who led me to this ; had you been kind 
 and true I had now been happy and prosperous look at 
 me and rejoice in your work ! ' He was then lifted over the 
 ship's side, with a dreadful friar, into a small boat, and 
 taken to the shore." 
 
 A new surprise seemed to fill Tinwald's mind. " Surely," 
 he said, " if any mortal was ever sent on earth to save, and 
 
DAEIEN. 251 
 
 heal, and comfort those they love, it is you ! What, then, 
 could he, who was so happy in your confidence, mean by 
 that accusation ?" 
 
 " He never had my confidence," said Alice, in a low voice. 
 " Once, it is too true, in an evil hour, when my heart was too 
 torn to care what was done with it, I said I would be his ; 
 but it was in bitterness and mockery, not in joy or truth 
 that I spoke." 
 
 As, in a dissolving view, the picture changes we know 
 not how clouds and battlements and pomps of war fade 
 away into sunny landscapes, where pastoral scenes are 
 smiling, so the aspect and attitude and words of the long- 
 parted lovers gradually changed. * * Before long, Tinwald 
 and Alice were walking along the cliffs, arm in arm, in per 
 fect confidence and happy calm. Thoughts long treasured 
 in the heart, and scarcely tolerated even there, now ebbed 
 and flowed from one to another, in low deep tones " too 
 happy to be glad," there was no light but that of the stars, 
 and the fireflies which seemed themselves like stars escaped, 
 and celebrating some jubilee of their own in merry dances. 
 
 Suddenly Alice started and gave a loud shriek. "What 
 seemed to her a wraith, rose up and stood before her, 
 shrouded all in white, with pale sunken features, and eyes 
 of unnatural brightness ; for a moment those eyes glared 
 upon her, and then the form passed away. Alice clung to 
 Tinwald in her terror, but he seemed to be as paralysed as 
 she was. His sensitive conscience was struck by the recol 
 lection of what had passed upon that very spot three weeks 
 ago. Incredible as it now seemed to him, he felt that he 
 had not repelled as sternly as he should have done, the 
 loving fascination that then sought to win upon his spirit. 
 He now saw Marina once more ; he had not known even of 
 her illness, so secluded was his life, and the fearful change 
 that had come over her lovely features appeared to him like 
 a ghostly vision. His dream of happiness was once more 
 dispelled; he returned quickly and almost in silence, to his 
 house with Alice, muttering something about maniacs which, 
 he half feared was true. 
 
252 DAEIEN. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 There, lull'd by careless soft security, 
 
 Of the impending mischief nought afraid, 
 
 Upon her purple couch was Psyche laid, 
 
 Her radiant eyes a downy slumber seal'd ; 
 
 In light transparent veil alone array 'd, 
 
 Her bosom's opening charms were half reveal'd, 
 
 And scarce the lucid folds her polish'd limbs conceal'd. 
 
 A placid smile plays o'er each roseate lip, 
 
 Sweet sever'd lips ! while thus your pearls disclose 
 
 That slumbering thus unconscious she may sip 
 
 The cruel presage of her future woes ! 
 
 Lightly, as fall the dews upon the rose, 
 
 Upon the coral lips of that sweet cell 
 
 The fatal drops she pours. Psyche. 
 
 ALICE and Isobel were left alone amid the fantastic magni 
 ficence with which proud affection had invested their tem 
 porary home. They had both much to tell, but the imagi 
 nation of Alice could dwell only on the fearfully beautiful 
 apparition she had seen, which she looked eagerly forward 
 to the morrow to have explained. 
 
 " It is too true ! " she said, in reply to her cousin's doubts ; 
 " I could not be mistaken. She could not have belonged 
 to this world, for a supernatural sorrow shone in her wild 
 eyes. I believe that this strange bright land must be 
 haunted by victims of the crimes that first won it from the 
 gentle Incas. I could not, even if I would, believe that 
 .any being in this world, or beyond it, could look at Tinwald 
 with reproachful eyes." 
 
 Isobel wondered at her tranquil confidence, for in her 
 own brief experience of love she had found it an intermit 
 tent fever of hope and doubt. 
 
 The morning came, and brought Alvaro ; but he was 
 .alone. He explained that Tinwald had taken some Indians 
 under his protection, and obtained for them permission to 
 trade in the else-forbidden precincts of Carthagena : that 
 on the preceding night the governor of the city had sent 
 for him, to say that some of these people had robbed a sort 
 of caravansary, where they slept the night previously ; and 
 had decamped to the forest, carrying off with their plunder, 
 
DAEIEN. 25& 
 
 two girls, daughters of the innkeeper. Troops had been 
 despatched after them ; but having found no trace of the 
 ravishers, had returned. The citizens were in a state of 
 high ferment and indignation, and called upon the governor 
 to make the English merchant responsible for their losses. 
 
 " This would easily have been done," continued Alvaro, 
 " and the price of the poor girls also paid, to the full satis 
 faction of the parents ; but Paterson, who I never before 
 saw really angry, did not look upon the women's fate so 
 coolly. He determined to pursue the Indians to their 
 forest haunts, with which he alone is acquainted ; and he 
 was on horseback in an hour, and on their track. It may 
 be some days before he returns. I need not make his apo 
 logy, for no one can feel more than I do the sacrifice that 
 he has made to his sense of honour and humanity." 
 
 So the day passed, very lengthily and lonely for Alice. 
 The Moresco was too chivalrous and delicately-minded not 
 to shrink from intruding on his guests ; who, in truth, re 
 quired some repose, now that the fatigues of the voyage 
 began to be more felt than during its continuance and ex 
 citement. Poor Partan, too, was again invalided ; and his 
 depressed belief in his own doom prevented him from rally 
 ing, as he might otherwise have done. The old Scotch 
 nurse devoted herself to him with gratitude ; and with that 
 pleasure in nursing which is fortunately implanted in most 
 women's natures, and increases with their age. At the 
 request of the fair travellers, all the slaves had been re 
 moved, 'except one, who acted as porter and guard at the 
 outer door ; and so the house was left to repose, almost as 
 complete as when Tinwald. had inhabited it. 
 
 Alice and Isobel had made very vigorous resolutions 
 against yielding to the indolence which the climate of New 
 Spain inspired ; and for the first day they succeeded in re 
 sisting the sleepy influences that call for the siesta in these 
 lands. But the second day, Isobel falling under the nurse's 
 regime, kept her bed, and Alice found her time pass very 
 heavily. She sat alone, with European uprightness, in a 
 saloon open on both sides to the air. She had possessed 
 herself of one of Paterson's few books, a volume of Scot 
 tish divinity, which she thought must be edifying enough 
 to assist her in keeping awake. She was determined to do 
 battle with the climate. 
 
254 DAEIEN. 
 
 Thus she strove valiantly against the sleepy influences 
 which all the natives of the South invite. But in vain she 
 sat uprightly on the cool white cushions, and tried to fix her 
 attention on the pages of the Scotch divine. Her soft, 
 bright eyes refused the dull office, and wandered unconsci 
 ously away to the variegated hangings of the room, the 
 lizards on the outer wall, the blue sea, or the mountains 
 afar off. Then her eyelids would droop for a moment, re 
 open with a start, and quiveringly close again over the dark 
 orbs within. 
 
 No wonder that the poor lady yielded to the influence 
 beneath which whole armies have ceased from deadly strife, 
 to return to it when the siesta had had its sway. ISTo won 
 der that she could not resist the mesmeric power of the 
 gentle airs that softly and silently passed across her bosom, 
 stirring, almost imperceptibly, the long wavy hair that 
 floated down her shoulders. And all around her was the 
 dead stillness and calmness of a tropic noon, far more 
 solemn and more silent than any hour of the night. The 
 great city itself was as stilly as its cemetery ; the very in 
 sects were at rest ; and the Scottish maiden gradually suc 
 cumbed to the siesta's universal law. 
 
 Yet not universal ; for within a few yards of the sleeping 
 girl, vengeance lay concealed in as beautiful and fierce a 
 form as the tiger near his prey. There, only hidden by 
 some myrtles, stood Marina, though wasted with sickness, 
 still superb in her beauty and despair. Her full bosom 
 heaving hurriedly ; her cheek now pale, now crimson ; her 
 lips white and quivering ; her large dark eyes alone were 
 motionless, though their glimmering lustre made them seem 
 to move. With a look of intense hatred, the Spaniard gazed 
 upon her destined victim. There was scorn, too, in that look, 
 which seemed to say, " And is it for that insipid child that 
 Marina is rejected ? " The pride of beauty, the sense of her own 
 luxurious majesty of form, at that moment thrilled through 
 her thoughts ; as the vision of her charms presented in a 
 mirror a standard of comparison with the artless girl before 
 her. But that triumphant sense passed instantly away. 
 Of what avail was all the beauty of earth against the sorcery 
 of yon delicate rival's loveliness ! 
 
 "And lovely, alas, she is!" muttered her enemy, as she 
 glided swiftly from her concealment, and stood beside Alice, 
 
255 
 
 now utterly resigned to deep, delicious slumber, " lovely 
 as the northern saint to whom I used to pray. But it is 
 the mere pure beauty of a child, after all! Can a great 
 passion find place within that slender form ? or love's 
 ethereal fire exist within that snow ? No ; it is but a 
 sentiment a superstition of love that the brave English 
 man is enslaved by. He cannot love that still, white thing 
 as he would love me. If I break the spell that binds him 
 to her I shall but set him free, and enable him to soar to 
 happiness of which now he does not dare to dream." 
 
 So saying, the Spaniard approached still nearer to the 
 sleeper, and drew from beneath her loose large robe a 
 green branch that seemed covered with dew. As if re 
 strained by some momentary compunction, she laid it 
 aside, however, and gazed, almost sadly, on poor Alice. 
 
 " It is a lovely face," she repeated, " so placid, so re 
 signed ! If I were a man, I should relent, and leave those 
 closed eyes to open on the face that is now before them in 
 her dreams." 
 
 Her aspect changed suddenly with that thought. She 
 seized the branch, and with the air and gesture of a sybil, 
 she waved it slowly over the sleeper, shedding its moisture 
 almost imperceptibly upon her face. The poor girl felt its 
 noxious influence, and tried uneasily to turn her face away. 
 But Marina sternly persevered until the expression of in 
 creasing pain in the countenance of her victim warned her 
 to retreat. Then she glided out into the open air, and Alice 
 awoke suddenly and found herself alone. 
 
 Her cheeks seemed on fire, her eyes felt scorched : she 
 clasped her hands upon her face, and withdrew them with 
 & shriek of pain that brought Isobel and the old nurse in 
 stantly to her assistance. They recoiled in dread : they 
 scarcely recognised the countenance so lately beaming with 
 intelligence and beauty. It was now fearfully swollen and 
 discoloured like a frightful mask. 
 
 Alice lay for hours in dreadful suffering. All the leech- 
 craft of the city tried in vain to guess even the cause of 
 her affliction.. No application to soothe it could be used, 
 for the slightest touch was agony to her. 
 
 At length Alvaro heard of her misfortune and flew to 
 her bedside. Never had he appeared to sueh advantage in 
 the eyes of Isobel ! All the tenderness of his nature was 
 
256 DAEIEff. 
 
 revealed ; tlie gentlest sympathy was united with the manly 
 self-possession that so dignifies the surgeon's noble art. 
 Then the knowledge that he had patiently and painfully 
 sought after long ago, rewarded all his labour by one of 
 liis least-regarded discoveries. After a few minutes' anxi 
 ous examination of the sufferer, he whispered a word of 
 comfort to Isobel and departed. Scarcely had his horse's 
 hoofs ceased to ring in the distance, when they were heard 
 again ; he was again at the sufferer's side. He held a vial 
 to her lips and nostrils, and her convulsive breathings 
 ceased; she grew gradually calm, and in a few minutes 
 the gentle heaving of her breast proved that she slept as 
 calmly under her disfigured and still festering features, as 
 when it was a joy to look upon them. 
 
 Then Alvaro gave himself to a different task, and looking 
 upon the attendants, demanded by what assassin this crime 
 had been committed. Composed in outward show, there was 
 a fierce trouble in his eyes, and an alteration in his tone 
 of voice that made those who heard him tremble. At first 
 no one answered him, but when one slave found utterance 
 a dozen tongues were loosed at once ; for several labourers 
 had been employed outside the house in making new 
 gardens. 
 
 " The senora was alone ; no one could have approached 
 her; some insect or some serpent must have stung her." 
 "There, in the saloon, she was reading," said the nurse, 
 "on those very cushions." 
 
 Alvaro strode over to the spot, examined it carefully, and 
 could detect no trace of any noxious thing. At length he 
 observed a small green leaf, which had fallen from the fatal 
 branch ; this he glanced at for a moment and then flung 
 into the fountain. 
 
 "Some mortal enemy has done this!" he exclaimed; 
 " yet what enemy could Alice have ? You know," he said 
 to Isobel, " that our country here abounds in poisons, as 
 well as in all healing balsams. This poor lady has been 
 poisoned with a branch of a tree called the mancinilla, 
 which, gathered with the dew upon it, blights everything 
 near it, like the fabled upas tree. We must try to heal 
 her, and then to revenge." 
 
 Isobel shuddered to perceive that the last was the more 
 active hope of the two. Nevertheless, for hours and days, 
 
DAEIEJT. 257 
 
 with sleepless ardour and the gentlest perseverance, Alvaro 
 watched over his patient. All that learned lore or the 
 traditional skill of the native Indians could impart, was 
 brought to bear upon Marina's victim, and finally with suc 
 cess. Her sufferings ceased, her features resumed their 
 form; but her delicate bloom, her lustrous beauty, was 
 gone for ever, 
 
 Alvaro's suspicions rested on Marina as the instigator 
 of the crime, and on the negro who kept his friend's door 
 as her agent. This slave had been spending money with 
 the recklessness characteristic of those people when they 
 are suddenly enriched. 
 
 The man was seized and scourged with wire-plaited 
 thongs. In vain, as the black strips of flesh flew from his 
 back, he swore that he knew nothing ; the vengeful lash 
 searched deeper and found the truth. He confessed that 
 Marina, and she only, had passed into the house, and that 
 she had enormously bribed him to deny it. Alvaro was 
 convinced, and in moody silence he walked away from the 
 scene of punishment to the house of Don Felipo. 
 
 He was told that Marina was indisposed ; but he did 
 not heed, perhaps he did not hear, the message. He ad 
 vanced swiftly to the apartment where he had last seen 
 her. Regardless of all ceremony, he raised the curtain and 
 entered the room unannounced. Marina, with nervous 
 quickness of hearing, had recognised his footsteps, and the 
 firm purpose they revealed. No longer languid or luxuri 
 ous, she stood before him pale but firm, drawing her noble 
 figure up to its full height. 
 
 "You come to denounce me!" she exclaimed, in a low, 
 plaintive voice, that almost startled her accuser by its un 
 expected tone. " I have only wondered at escaping you so 
 long. Is she dead, that you have time to look for me ?" 
 
 "If she were," replied Alvaro, sternly, "by all that's 
 above heaven or beneath it, that dainty head of yours 
 should roll upon the scaffold, before her true heart was 
 cold within its shroud!" 
 
 Marina only smiled disdainfully, as she exclaimed, " Why, 
 then, are you here ? If death is the worst that you can 
 threaten, think not that I fear you." 
 
 " I threaten not," replied Alvaro ; " but as a citizen, I 
 announce to you that your life is even now forfeited. 
 
258 DABIEN. 
 
 Nevertheless, I believe that you will expiate your cruel 
 crime more bitterly in life than death. As yet, your 
 having committed that crime is a secret to all but me. 
 Depart this night, swear never to behold this country 
 more, and you are safe. A ship of mine sails, or shall 
 sail, for Cuba, before sunrise. Decide." 
 
 " 0, send me not away ! " cried the Spaniard, at last un 
 nerved : " I implore you, do not banish me. Give me time. 
 Let me but see him once before I go : believe me even me 
 that I am less guilty than I seem. You know not my 
 provocation. Let me see him once more, and then dispose 
 of me as you will. All the earth is now the same to the 
 forlorn Marina ! ' ' 
 
 " I have given you your choice," repeated Alvaro, coldly. 
 " Public denunciation and the scaffold, or self-exile, is your 
 only alternative." 
 
 "Enough," exclaimed Marina, recovering all her self- 
 possession ; " I will stay. My punishment cannot be 
 immediate: I shall see him before I die!" 
 
 The Moresco had some difficulty in dissembling his ad 
 miration of a courage and devotion so lofty, though so 
 misplaced. 
 
 " Had this woman loved me thus before I knew Isobel," 
 thought he, " I would have worshipped her. Poisoner, 
 murderess as she is, she shall not die." 
 
 In his sympathy for her resoluteness, he did not suspect 
 that she displayed only obstinacy and selfishness, inflamed 
 to a sort of madness by her natural temperament. He 
 waited for some minutes to try if her resolution would 
 waver ; but he soon saw that her enthusiasm had settled 
 down, and petrified, as it were, into a despair that defied 
 all further sorrow. Thus they parted. 
 
 Soon afterwards, down in the harbour, there was a bustle 
 on board the Buenaventura's deck, and eager hands and 
 voices hurried on the manifold preparations that are neces 
 sary for a voyage. 
 
 A few hours later, just as the inhabitants of Carthagena 
 had sunk to rest, the household of Don Felipo was roused 
 by a cry of " Tire !" Through thick volumes of smoke the 
 alarmed inmates rushed into the street. Notwithstanding 
 the lateness of the hour, there were many men at hand ; 
 the fire was soon overcome, and the frightened and abashed 
 
DAEIEN. 259 
 
 women, gathering their night-robes about them, retired 
 once more to their chambers ; all but Marina, who was 
 missing. The wing of the house where her apartments 
 lay was utterly consumed, and it was supposed that she 
 had perished in the flames. 
 
 When day dawned, the Buenaventura might have been 
 seen standing out to sea; nor did that good ship ever 
 afterwards repass the Bocca Chica of Carthagena. 
 
 CHAPTEE XYIII. 
 
 But what binds us friend to friend, 
 But that soul with soul can blend] 
 Soul-like were those days of yore, 
 Let us walk in soul once more. 
 * * * * 
 
 Take, boatman, thrice thy fee ; 
 Take, I give it willingly, 
 For, invisibly to thee, 
 Spirits twain have crossed with me. 
 
 UHLAND. 
 
 IT is curious to consider the invisible threads of destiny by 
 which each human being is bound to some other, who walks 
 about, all unconscious of the influence which his spiritual 
 being, or a mere abstraction of him, is exercising upon his 
 fellow-beings. Let us look along a street, and contemplate 
 the crowds that are therein hastening to and fro, each with 
 his mind's eye fixed on some invisible object ; but all, as far 
 as the general effect is concerned, appearing as confused 
 and unconnected as the denizens of a disturbed ant-hill. 
 Each of the human forms there moving about, and vulgarized 
 into" vagueness by the monotonous dominoes of calico or 
 muslin or broadcloth, and the mask of smiles or frowns 
 each of these creatures is haunted by some phantom, whom 
 in turn his phantom haunts. He or she is never alone. 
 Always some imaginary presence, whether cheerful or de 
 pressing, is with them ; and that wonderful variety of 
 expression of countenance which we behold, is caused by 
 each wearer's unseen companions. Even when one man 
 stops to greet another, his attention is not fixed on him 
 
 B 2 
 
260 DAEIEN. 
 
 alone ; it is diverted by a host of invisible others, who are 
 with him now, because they were with him (either in the 
 flesh or out of the flesh) when he was last met. This is 
 the true source of the distraction that men experience in a 
 crowd. As at the old Roman feasts, each summoned guest 
 brought his "shadow," and ofttimes very many; so the 
 imaginary world is peopled to overflowing, and our own 
 phantom goes jostling on through a crowd of other phan 
 toms until it is well weary. 
 
 But to account for this digression, which those only who 
 can turn it to better account will pardon. We have just 
 seen one woman's beauty blighted, another's peace of mind 
 and life or liberty bereaved, and a stout ship sailing away 
 without a cargo ; and all this on account of the phantom 
 of a man : who, in the flesh, was in nowise connected with 
 such passionate transactions. On the contrary, our Scotch 
 friend was intimately occupied in tracking the ontology of 
 his Indian allies, and dividing that interest with plans and 
 figures of calculation. The phantoms that chiefly filled his 
 roomy mind, when Alice was not there, were crowds of 
 prosperous travellers passing to and fro along a phantom 
 road, between the Grulf of Mexico and the Great South Sea. 
 Darien was ever in his thoughts, not excluding, but bringing 
 with it the phantom of Alice, which haunted its imaginary 
 hills and harbours ; as well as accompanied him, like another 
 Diana, in his chase. 
 
 "Forest" has with us a noble sound, and one full of 
 interest, speaking of grandeur long sustained and uninvaded ; 
 lonely and solemn scenery ; a goodly company of shadowy 
 trees, that have looked down on our far ancestors. It is 
 the asylum, too, of the beautiful creatures " of fur and 
 feather," whose pursuit gave delight to our boyish days, 
 and pleasant exercise to our later lives ; not a glade of it 
 but has echoed to the beater's merry shout, and the 
 huntsman's cheering halloo. But the true magnificence of 
 the forest, though not its poetry, is to be found in America ; 
 especially in those countries that border on the equator. 
 There, under the influence of an eternal summer, Nature 
 runs riot; like a glorious and fantastic bacchanal, drunk 
 with the rich juices of a virgin soil, and the warm fellowship 
 of a meridian sun. There she makes for herself arborial 
 bowers, whose lofty colonnades and flower-roofed aisles 
 
DAEIEN. 261 
 
 mock the dimensions of our stateliest palaces. Sometimes, 
 in her graceful phantasy, she tapestries the tall trees so 
 richly with interwoven parasites (all a-bloom with purple 
 flowers), that the forest is impenetrable: sometimes in a 
 graver mood, she plants her towering trees at wide intervals, 
 yet not so wide but that their branches interlace and only 
 admit a faint, green, quivering light upon the verdant turf 
 below. Along those cool arcades the hunter can ride for 
 miles at a gallop, and the hounds pursue their noble game 
 breast high ; when suddenly they come upon a leafy barrier, 
 a thicket, perhaps, where the "pine-apple burns like a 
 topaz on its green calyx," and over it waves the arborescent 
 fern, tangled by flowering creepers among bamboos and 
 bananas, springing to a lofty height ; but looking like a 
 mere hedge, beneath the still more magnificent proportions 
 of the ceiba and the palm-tree. 
 
 In such a leafy labyrinth, the chase, whatever it may be, 
 is safe from human pursuit ; for the instinct of the hound 
 and the experience of man warns them of the deadliest 
 dangers that lurk there. 
 
 Through scenery like this, rode Tinwald the night and 
 day after he had left Carthagena. He travelled alone, for 
 all the tribes were in friendship with the benevolent and 
 courageous merchant who had often trusted himself and his 
 treasure to the safe keeping of their native honour. He 
 now felt deeply wounded at the breach of trust that had 
 been charged against his wild allies, and he was resolved to 
 bring back the stolen children, whatever it might cost him. 
 
 The subtlety of the Indians had made the approach to 
 their encampment as difficult as possible. Avoiding all 
 the known routes, it was necessary for our traveller to steer 
 himself by the pilot plant,* except when, at rare intervals, 
 he could see the stars through the umbrageous foliage that 
 overarches those primeval forests almost like a vegetable 
 sky. He rode along silently, and absorbed by a thousand 
 thoughts. Unseen by him, the fiery-hued flamingo flashed 
 
 * There is said to be a tropical plant, with one heart-shaped leaf 
 larger than the others on the same stalk, which always, as it grows, 
 points to the north, and is used by the natives as a compass. This is 
 the more useful in the tropical forests, as there the traveller loses his 
 usual director the thickened bark, which is invariably on the northern 
 aspect of the tree in higher latitudes. 
 
262 DAEIEN. 
 
 through the verdant gloom, and the gorgeous plumage of 
 the tulcan and macaw diversified the rich dark masses of 
 woods. Unseen by him, the beautiful but deadly serpents 
 glided from his path, or hung and hissed among the para 
 sites above him, hesitating to strike an unwonted prey. 
 The bearded baboons hushed the mimic children at their 
 hairy breasts, and pointed to that strange thing, man, to 
 still or to amuse them. The vexed moan of wild beasts, 
 the vivacious chatter of excitable monkeys, the sweet song 
 of the mocking-birds, were all alike unnoticed. The tra 
 veller pressed forward, without eyes for anything but the 
 few indexes of his route, without thought for anything 
 except his own reflections. But the mere animal sense of 
 the ear, so to speak, has often a quick sense of appre 
 hension, when the mind is too much absorbed to notice 
 ordinary sounds. As the sailor will sleep calmly through 
 the roar and tumult of the wildest storm, but the first 
 sound of the boatswain's whistle will at once arouse him ; 
 so Tinwald, who had long been moving on, regardless of the 
 thousand discordances or harmonies around him, was sud 
 denly aware of a light footfall on the grassy sward, and 
 before he could turn round, an Indian had leaped up behind 
 him on his horse, and wound his long arms about him. At 
 that moment a crowd of others started from the wood on 
 either side, and presenting their lances, formed an impass 
 able barrier in all directions. He was instantly taken from 
 his horse and marched away in silence through the woods, 
 the Indians following tunmltuously, with anger and revenge 
 lowering on every dusky brow. 
 
 At length they came to an open glade, surrounded by 
 thick underwood, so as to form a natural amphitheatre. 
 A long stake was already driven into the ground, dry brush 
 wood lay around, and the shrieks and screams of angry 
 squaws were heard from among a crowd of savages sur 
 rounding a stern-looking chief. A way was made through 
 the people for the prisoner, who advanced with a calm un 
 daunted aspect to the place appointed him. 
 
 The Indian chief was a man of noble stature, to which 
 a diadem of the golden plumage of the mocking-bird, 
 surmounted by two tall crimson feathers, added dignity. 
 Prom him, the prisoner for the first time learned his offence. 
 He was addressed in a calm sonorous voice by the chief, 
 
DAEIEK. 263 
 
 whose dialect lie very imperfectly understood : it appeared 
 that the troops sent out from Carthagena in pursuit of the 
 Indians had fallen in with this tribe, and had fired on them, 
 killing one and wounding several. The Indians had after 
 wards lain in ambush to seize the first Spaniard who should 
 issue from the walls, and they had tracked Tinwald to the 
 spot where he was arrested. He was now to die. 
 
 Tinwald attempted to show that it was his love for the 
 Indians that had led him into the forest ; that he was then, 
 alone and unarmed, in search of a tribe whose friend he had 
 long been, and that he was ready to pay whatever ransom 
 was required. The chief listened in scornful silence to all 
 he had to say ; then coldly observed, that " the white man 
 had a big tongue but a little heart ; and that all the wealth 
 of Carthagena could not give back the blood of the braves 
 that had been shed." Finally, as if he had performed his 
 part, he threw himself on the ground, and the other Indians 
 proceeded to their task with wonderful dispatch and savage 
 glee. Their victim was soon stripped and bound to the 
 stake. His tormentors, lighting each a brand, danced 
 round him in due religious form ; and as they became ex 
 cited with their exercise, gradually approached nearer and 
 more near him ; brandishing their torches in his face. 
 Then suddenly a loud cry was heard, and one of the In 
 dian women burst through the throng, flung the tormentors 
 aside, ran up to him, and threw her arms round his body. 
 Still clasping him, she turned her head to the chief; and 
 claimed the victim for her husband, instead of the brave 
 whom she had lost ; for she was the widow of the slain 
 Indian. The chief took his pipe from his lip and nodded ; 
 and Tinwald found his bonds immediately loosened and 
 himself dragged forward by his volunteering bride. The 
 crowd gave way respectfully to the affianced pair, and the 
 rescued victim was soon seated under a palm-tree and 
 formally presented with a pipe and a calabash of water. 
 
 All this scene had passed too rapidly to give the Scot 
 time to think. As soon as he had sufficiently collected 
 himself, he sturdily refused to be thus summarily wed ; and 
 was even ungallant enough to hint that it was better " to 
 burn than marry," thus reversing a very ancient alternative. 
 Perhaps at that moment, a recollection of the Border Scott 
 and " Muckle-mou'd Meg," may have flitted across his mind ; 
 
264 DARIEtf. 
 
 but if it did, he was resolved not to imitate the forayer'a 
 choice of doom.* 
 
 But his bride and her people only smiled scornfully at his 
 protest. The tribe was on the march, which was imme 
 diately resumed ; the prisoner was allowed to resume some 
 of his clothes, and his affianced made the rest up in a bundle 
 and carried them dutifully on her head. 
 
 In this manner, Tinwald was marched along, closely 
 watched, for three days ; and then he found himself, to his 
 great pleasure, by the sea. He knew that the tribe he had 
 left home to seek, harboured near the coast, and he looked 
 forward anxiously to his disenthralment from his bride, who 
 hourly became more fond, as his aversion for her increased. 
 He discovered, to his great contentment, that the tribe in 
 whose keeping he was held, was on its way to join a grand 
 "palaver," where many tribes were to meet, opposite the 
 island of Zamba. Throughout the night preceding the 
 savages' parliament, there was a considerable movement 
 in the camp. Stranger Indians came and went, and long 
 councils and much smoking was transacted. Tinwald was 
 kept close in his wife's wigwam; but towards morning, after 
 some dispute, his guards made way, and a stranger crept in 
 and squatted down beside him. There was scarcely any light, 
 but in the voice that addressed him in broken Spanish, he 
 recognised with great delight that of his old friend Andreas. 
 
 "I am come," said he, in a patronizing voice, "to visit 
 the white man. I have much friendship with white man ; 
 and if he is not guilty, I will try to send him home." 
 
 Tinwald declared himself, and the brave embraced him 
 with a joy that momentarily overcame his native gravity. 
 He called him by a hundred fond names, and reviled the 
 savages who could have ill-treated the " Indian's friend ;" a 
 title by which Paterson was long honourably known. He 
 told him, that being on a coasting voyage, he had landed in 
 
 * Scott of Harden, as most of my readers will recollect, was captured 
 in one of his raids by a Murray who had three ugly daughters. Murray 
 was about to hang up the bold invader at his doom-tree, when the wife 
 interposed, and suggested that their prisoner might be turned to much 
 better account. Scott, on seeing " muckle-mou'd Meg," preferred the 
 doom-tree, but on nearer acquaintance with it, revoked his choice. 
 He married the lady, an excellent wife she made him ; and a most 
 worthy descendant of theirs now dwells on his ancestral lands at 
 Philiphaugh. 
 
DABIEtf. 2G5 
 
 shelter of the island of Zamba, to endeavour to obtain an 
 interview with Alvaro, but that he feared falling into the 
 hands of the Spaniards. He had heard from the natives 
 that they had a white man in captivity, and, for his old 
 friendship's sake, he had come to see him. 
 
 As soon as morning dawned, Andreas hastened to inquire 
 about the friendly tribe, whom he soon found. They de 
 clared that they had been insulted, robbed, and outraged in 
 Carthagena; and that, therefore, they had set fire to the 
 caravanserai, and carried off the girls as hostages for one of 
 their w r omen, whom the Governor himself had taken from 
 them. They professed devoted regard for Tinwald ; and 
 offered that very night to convey him back to Carthagena, 
 if he would guarantee their safety there. All that Tinwald 
 asked, however, was a divorce from his wife, whom he 
 promised to " tocher " royally for a more deserving husband. 
 Even this was arranged satisfactorily, though the squaw 
 clamoured loudly for her unwilling spouse. 
 
 The two Spanish girls were next restored ; but they had 
 been so kindly treated, and enjoyed their Indian life so 
 much, that they seemed scarcely grateful for their freedom. 
 That night, however, Tinwald and they sailed for Cartha 
 gena, in the vessel which Alvaro' s liberality had enabled 
 Andreas to procure for himself. 
 
 As they sailed along down the coast, Tinwald looked 
 back with wonder on the last few days, as if they had been 
 a dream. Whenever he sunk into sleep, the cries of the 
 savages, and the whimperings of his importunate wife, 
 sounded in his ears. Dusky groups of savages seemed to 
 dance wildly about in the tall dark woods ; and Alice pre 
 sented herself to his eyes as bound to the fatal tree. He 
 little knew how changed, in the meantime, her beauty had 
 become : he saw her in his vision as lovely as ever ; and he 
 tried to free her from the stake, when his nauseous squaw 
 would suddenly interpose, and the horror of her touch 
 awakened him. 
 
 At last the bark of Andreas glided into the harbour of 
 Carthagena, and Tinwald was at once descried by one of the 
 many slaves whom Alvaro, become anxious for his friend's 
 safety, had set to watch by sea and shore. In a few minutes 
 more they had met, and all that related to Marina was 
 
266 DAEIEJ7. 
 
 made known to the weary Scot by his sympathising 
 friend. 
 
 With what mingled feelings did another, who was more 
 than friend, watch for his arrival ! Poor Alice, in her most 
 wayward and coquettish youthful days, had never been very 
 proud of her beauty ; but now that it was gone, now that 
 it had become like that of another being, she learned to 
 admire it, to sigh after its vanished sweetness. Her eyes 
 alone retained their beauty, that soft, thoughtful, soul- 
 revealing expression, which sorrow cannot change, nor age 
 dim. And sometimes she would look in the glass, poor 
 child! into those eyes of hers, in search of comfort ; but 
 they would always fill with tears, so as to make her whole 
 face illegible. And still the phantom of her absent lover 
 was by her side, and gazing on her. Oh, that he were 
 come in the flesh, for surely he would look less strangely on 
 her then ! 
 
 Isobel, too, was changed in her manner towards her 
 cousin. She was become a flatterer ; she, usually so plain- 
 spoken, so exacting, was now perpetually giving utterance 
 to honeyed phrases, and seemed to have no will but that of 
 Alice. 
 
 " You are looking quite like your old dear self to-day," 
 she said once ; and Alice burst into tears ; for she per 
 ceived that she was considered to require comfort. 
 
 And comfort came at last. (It is always on the road, 
 though ofttimes it travels wearily and slow.) Alice was 
 sitting alone in the early morning, trying to observe if the 
 dawning light would reveal any change in the harbour 
 any arrival of the night before. She longed to know the 
 worst ; she longed for the first glance to have scanned her 
 altered features ; and then after her suspense was broken 
 she thought that she could nerve her heart to anything 
 that might follow. 
 
 The mist rose slowly from the harbour. Surely another 
 ship is there ! There is no longer a watery space where the 
 Buenaventura used to moor, The pathway to the harbour 
 lay in a right line to that new ship ; but, on account of the 
 hill, it opened suddenly on the sight. It is occupied by 
 two figures : one is the form of Alvaro, and the other, still 
 wrapped in the seaman's mantle, is that of her lover. He 
 
DAEIEN. 267 
 
 scarcely listens to his friend's anxious communication. 
 His eyes are fixed still fondly and hopefully on the porch 
 where his Alice once greeted him. She is there, as hefore, 
 but she hides within its shadow. In another moment it is 
 all over. She is folded in his arms, and his brave, honest 
 eyes are gazing on her as fondly nay, as proudly as when 
 her loveliness made every heart its own. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 Then say how hope and fear, desire and hate, 
 O'erspread with fears the crowded maze of fate. 
 Wealth heaped on wealth nor truth nor safety buys, 
 The dangers gather as the treasures rise. 
 
 JOHNSON. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL is the influence that pure and cultivated women 
 exercise on those around them, developing unconsciously, 
 and therefore the more effectively, the higher and nobler 
 qualities that exist, however latently, in every man's nature. 
 Women the most gifted of them at least have a wonderful 
 faculty of detecting hidden springs of worth in those they 
 love, as it is said that the lapwing can discover suppressed 
 fountains in the desert. If lovers or lapwings could only 
 make better use of their discoveries, no doubt the moral 
 and physical world would become amazingly fructified, a 
 very " land of streams." 
 
 Alvaro was now happy, almost to his heart's desire ; 
 happy in Isobel, happy in himself, and in all around him. 
 He looked back with self- compassion on the narrow and 
 lonely intellectual life he seemed to have led before he 
 knew her. New sources of thought, and feeling, and 
 hope had gradually disclosed themselves. The world, as 
 he before knew it, had begun to pall upon him, with all its 
 repetitions and its want of object : like Columbus, he had 
 now discovered a new one, of apparently infinite capabilities, 
 as of virgin beauty. 
 
 " The true charm of true love," he observed to his as 
 senting friend, as they walked towards the house of the 
 latter on the evening after his return, " consists in its 
 
268 DABIEtf. 
 
 boundlessness. Mere passion, or wealth, or ambition, is 
 like a creature of tlie chase ; as soon as it is overtaken it 
 has lost its value: but when we love, the sentiment per 
 vades our whole being, as the atmosphere is imbued with 
 the flower that has infused the common air with fragrant 
 life." 
 
 " You say truly," rejoined Tinwald ; " but the true 
 reason of the superiority of love over passion is, that the 
 former is an exercise of our infinite and immortal nature ; 
 the latter is of the earth, earthy." 
 
 "Why will you force upon me," said Alvaro, "a senti 
 ment which you know I cannot follow ? Happy are you in 
 your philosophy, or religion, or whatever you please to call 
 it. You can expand your love into the invisible world, and 
 make the Deity alone your final point : mine does not go 
 beyond the grave ; the worms dissolve my spell. This is, 
 as you well know, no choice of mine. Like most men, I 
 would prefer to rise after death to infinite glory rather 
 than lie still and rot beside my dog; but the faculty of 
 faith is as unequally distributed as other gifts. I was not 
 born with it, nor nurtured into it ; neither have I been 
 able to attain to it by study, or even by such poor prayer 
 as a voiceless soul can utter. Even when the world was 
 my idol, I would have exchanged all that it could give for 
 one hope of what it cannot give. Much more would I 
 now; for great happiness, like great sorrow, weans one 
 from the world." 
 
 " And have you given Isobel any hint of this ?" inquired 
 Tinwald. 
 
 " Alas, no ! and I fear for the moment when she must 
 discover it," replied Alvaro. "I cannot deceive her; and 
 gentle as her look of sorrow and surprise will be, I would 
 rather meet all the arrows of your friends, the Indians, 
 than that look. One great source of sympathy will then 
 cease; and I would not, if I could, win her from a faith 
 that has made her what she is, to my own dark and dreary 
 negation of a belief." 
 
 Just then the friends arrived at Tinwald's house, and the 
 two cousins expressed a wish to stroll down to the sea to 
 look at the boat of Andreas in which Tinwald had returned 
 from the Indians. Andreas had obtained all that he de 
 sired from Alvaro, and was to sail in the morning; and 
 
DABIEN. 269 
 
 with him it was intended that the Indian woman should 
 be returned to her people. Her release had been easily 
 obtained ; the more so as she had exhibited during her con 
 finement more of the characteristics of a caged tiger, than 
 any of the gentler animal tendencies. They found the 
 Indian chief on board his little vessel, and in his company 
 Partan, who had many questions to ask about his old 
 friends upon the Spanish Main. From Andreas he learned 
 that Lawrence had escaped from the Poyais Indians, and 
 had reached the friendly natives of Cape Gracias a Dios. 
 There he had got a large canoe, and had again tried Dead- 
 man's Isle ; but he found the little island almost entirely 
 dug up, and the treasure gone. Soon afterwards, he had 
 made his way to Tortuga, and there procured a small but 
 well-manned schooner, in which he had gone again to sea. 
 
 Andreas made his home near what was called the Golden 
 Island, at the mouth of the G-ulf of Darien. The superb 
 harbour which opens within that island was the site which 
 Paterson had fixed upon for his great colonial city, and 
 thither he and Alvaro intended to proceed in a few days 
 to reconnoitre. For the present, Alvaro' s departure for 
 Spain was indefinitely postponed. He had now an object 
 nearer to his heart than even Darien; but for the first 
 time in his life he felt fear, and dared not to approach 
 its crisis. More than once on this eventful evening he 
 was about to ask the most important question in a man's 
 life; but old Janet appeared unusually fidgety, and was 
 continually conjuring her "bairns" to "gae hame out o' 
 the dews." Janet's authority was always submitted to ; 
 so Isobel and Alvaro returned, followed at a short distance 
 by Alice and Tinwald. Their romance seemed about to 
 close, for Tinwald had discovered at Carthagena the chap 
 lain of an English man-of-war, and he was even now solicit 
 ing Alice's consent to being married as soon as possible, in 
 order (amongst other reasons not so prominently put for 
 ward) to afford a more conventional home and protection 
 to Isobel. And in truth this girl was not among the least 
 of his cares ; for he was by no means anxious that she 
 should marry his friend, dear as he was, with the views he 
 held ; and he could scarcely bear to think of the pain that 
 would follow if their intercourse was broken off. 
 
 Whilst he and Alice were discussing these, and other 
 
270 DAEIEK. 
 
 momentous matters, Isobel appeared with a frightened and 
 anxious look. 
 
 " Alvaro," she said, "had been suddenly called away by 
 one of his clerks, and the expression of fear on the mes 
 senger's face had communicated itself, perhaps, to her ; for 
 she knew no reason to feel alarmed." 
 
 Tinwald, engrossed with the subject on which he had 
 been speaking, did not much regard this intelligence. He 
 told Isobel that such things often happened, and that pro 
 bably Alvaro would ere long return; and then he con 
 tinued his whispered conversation with her cousin, and she 
 retired. But he was soon again interrupted. The door 
 opening into the verandah where he stood was suddenly 
 flung open, and G-horka unceremoniously presented him 
 self. His bearing was no longer servile and timid, but 
 resolute and bold, like that of one who has a great cause 
 in hand. He looked almost angrily at Tinwald as he 
 exclaimed, 
 
 " Massa is a prisoner ! Him took by de tarn fetish- 
 man's friend. De whole city is in one great hoobboob. I 
 tell many friends of massa's: dey all say, ' Inkisition!' and 
 turn dere backs." 
 
 Tinwald at this terrible announcement forgot Alice her 
 self, and everything but his friend's danger, for the moment. 
 His first impulse w r as to fly to his assistance ; bub he re 
 strained himself, and waited to hear what Grhorka would 
 propose. He had already had experience of his fidelity 
 and subtlety ; he saw that the negro's whole soul was in 
 tent on his master's deliverance, and the working of every 
 man's soul, he knew, has more or less of inspiration in it. 
 The slave's broad chest was heaving with passion; his eyes 
 glowed like coals of fire : 
 
 "What wait you for?" he cried. "De people say dat 
 massa will be burn burn like one toast. Will you stay 
 will you stay till massa bery dear massa be destroy, and 
 den turn up de eye, and say ' Grod help ? ' You no worship 
 fetish 'Nick : you no turn white when I say ' Inkisition.' 
 De nigger man is like you he ready to face fetish or 
 priest, or black debil hissel, w T hen all right in his own 
 bus'm. Listen ! Get away to de boat of Andreas all you 
 hab, all you can get : buy plenty food, plenty sailor to pull 
 oar, buy eberyting and eberybody; and hab all ready to 
 
DARIEtf. 271 
 
 sail in tree hour. Me hab moche friend in city ; me prince 
 in my own countree ; de black man bery many will all do my 
 bid. Buckras will scold bery moche, but dey will not kill. 
 Black men hab strong bones, and we hab take moche iron 
 from a sip. We will take massa from de prison, and hab 
 him on board in tree hour all safe and free ! " and the ex 
 cited negro shouted with exultation as if his scheme was 
 already accomplished. 
 
 Tinwald saw the force of his suggestions. He knew that 
 well-planned insurrections of the slaves, for less laudable 
 purposes, were not uncommon: and as Alvaro was very 
 popular in the state, he thought that a revolt in his favour 
 would probably be connived at ; above all, he saw that this 
 was the only chance of freedom for his friend. There were 
 but a few moments for reflection, and the Scot did not hesi 
 tate. He accepted, not for himself alone, but for her who 
 was far dearer to him, the dangerous project. In doing so, 
 he abandoned not only his home of many years, at the 
 dawn of its happiest hour, but with it, as he thought for 
 ever, the most glorious scheme of colonization that had 
 yet been planned. 
 
 The moment Grhorka received his assent, he rushed out 
 of the house and flew to the city. There, from lane to lane 
 and garden to garden, he hastened with native subtleness 
 and stealth, summoning each slave upon whom experience 
 told him that he could depend. Dusky crowds were soon 
 assembled in Alvaro's spacious gardens, unseen in the 
 kindred darkness of the night. 
 
 Meanwhile, Tinwald had disclosed to Alice and her 
 cousin the crisis that was approaching; and they unhesi 
 tatingly prepared to face the danger. Old Janet alone 
 remonstrated at first, but she at once submitted to the 
 dictum of Partan, who was also called into the council. 
 
 " The Span'ard," he said, " saved our lives, and some 
 thing more, mayhap ; and my 'vice is that we gae wi' him 
 the now. No for the ginerosity o' the thing, but nae 
 Christian man or woman-kind will be safe amang these 
 papishes, ance their parsecuting bluid is up. Sae, Tin 
 wald, ye '11 just get your affairs in order, and I '11 step 
 doon wi' the leddies and the auld woman, and sort things 
 for 'em abit in the Indian's boatie, and see to purvisionin' 
 her the maist I can. The Indian's creetuf is aye canny, and 
 
272 DARIEN. 
 
 has a liantle canvas that we'll see fly through the bolfc- 
 ropes afore ever a Span'ard overha's us." 
 
 This being arranged, Tinwald hastened to the city to 
 secure whatever the officials of the Inquisition had left at 
 tainable; and he was also able to procure considerable 
 sums from friendly merchants, by way of loan. In the 
 warmth of their sympathy, and on the strength of his 
 honour, he might have possessed himself of half their 
 wealth. 
 
 As Alice and her cousin hurried down in the darkness 
 to the shore, a fearful presentiment hung on the mind of 
 Isobel. That very evening the conviction that she had 
 given her affections to an infidel had flashed upon her 
 mind. She at first trembled under the force of the temp 
 tation, and she had prayed to be delivered from the sore 
 trial. Now, that prayer seemed awfully answered, and he 
 whom she had loved might be about to perish by the 
 most cruel death. If he escaped, how should she receive 
 him? 
 
 "While the poor wanderers were hurrying on board the 
 felucca, Carthagena lay apparently in profound repose. 
 The stars shone brightly down, showing the towers and 
 the tufted palms among the gardens, and glistening on the 
 fountains. But few eyes, save those of women and chil 
 dren, were closed that night within the city walls. The 
 citizens knew that there was some wide-spread conspiracy 
 on foot, and lay trembling in their houses. The slaves 
 were assembled by thousands, and listened to brave words 
 that found an echo even in their poor hearts. The go 
 vernor, a proud, weak man, was bewildered between his 
 awe of the Inquisition, and the reports of insurrection, 
 which induced him to concentrate all his forces in the 
 citadel. 
 
 On board the felucca there were many eager hands 
 silently at work. Partan insisted on dropping down to 
 wards the offing with the first of the ebb, and leaving 
 only a light canoe for the expected fugitive. This was 
 reluctantly agreed to by Tinwald, who saw the necessity 
 for getting from under the guns of the fort of San Lazaro. 
 So with muffled oars the felucca glided down the channel. 
 
 Just as she got under weigh, some quick sharp shots 
 were heard from the city, then loud shouts, and heavily 
 
DAEIEK. 273 
 
 booming strokes, as of weighty bodies forcing massive 
 gates. And then the Law made itself heard, by bell and 
 trumpet, convoking the assistance of its satellites and the 
 citizens. Then the firing increases, and the bells peal 
 more wildly, but above all the din, shouts of exultation 
 and savage glee are heard ; and just as morning breaks, 
 a crowd of blacks rush towards the shore, and high above 
 them, borne on their shoulders, is Alvaro, rescued by 
 heathens from the clutches of the Church. He enters 
 the canoe, which, nevertheless, pauses for Grhorka, who, 
 with a grand air, is making a speech to his dusky country 
 men, and distributing among them all the savings of many 
 years. Then the boat shoves off, and the poor negroes, so 
 lately protected by darkness, and sustained by triumph 
 above all fear, suddenly find themselves in broad daylight, 
 and surrounded by some hundreds of their masters, armed 
 to the teeth with deadly weapons, and all the influence of 
 authority. The slaves quietly lay down their arms, and sub 
 missively sneak off to their various quarters, to be openly 
 flogged or secretly rewarded, according to the temper or 
 religious views of their various masters. 
 
 On board the felucca there was a brief but fervid greet 
 ing to the fugitive, and a welcome, "not loud, but deep." 
 His customary self-possession was unshaken, and his dark 
 eyes alone, by their more vivid expression, betrayed the 
 excitement of the scenes that he had passed through. In 
 the deep waist of the felucca Alice and Isobel were resting 
 upon a heap of silken cushions, thrown on board at ran 
 dom : the latter scarcely seemed to see Alvaro as he flung 
 himself down before them in an attitude of careless ease. 
 
 " Her eyes 
 
 Were with her thoughts, and they were far away ; " 
 
 seeking the Receiver of grateful thoughts for answered 
 prayer. 
 
 The Moresco gazed on her almost with idolatry, as she 
 remained there fixed in a kneeling attitude, with upturned 
 eyes, and wondered in himself if the creed that such an 
 angel held could possibly be a dream. 
 
 The felucca crept along over the smooth Seas, more 
 slowly as she receded from the land, where the breeze was 
 strongest. Tinwald, on the poop, kept anxious watch with 
 Partan and Andreas. The old buccaneer was at first 
 
274 DABIEtf. 
 
 restored to cheerfulness by finding himself once more in his 
 native elements of emergency and seamanship, but now his 
 accustomed gloom returned upon him. Tinwald tried to 
 rally him out of his despondency, saying, that with the 
 blessing of Providence, they would reach Jamaica in a few 
 days, and thence a safe voyage home might be calculated 
 on with confidence. Partan shook his head and said 
 solemnly, 
 
 " Na, na, I sail never see the bonnie hills of Scotland 
 mair. My time's comin'. It's no the thought of separa 
 tion frae this waefu' life that mak's my heart sair, but to 
 part frae yon bonnie bairns afore they're safe out of these 
 unsanctified seas, that's no for the like of they. I dinna 
 ken if it be the sharks aneath these blue waters, or the 
 Caribs, or the land crabs that will hae the dismemberin' o' 
 this puir body o' mine, but I ken weel it'll no haud lang 
 thegither. Now, Tinwald, I hae still some hundred pund 
 in yon little kist ; and when I'm gane, ye'll just dispose 
 o't as ye think best ; and as 'ill make maist reparation for 
 the ill deeds it was gotten by. It's that thoght above a' 
 that hangs heavy on the saul o' me. But look, look, An 
 dreas, yonder! By the Eternal, it's the black pirate 
 creepin' out frae yon headland, and she's shootin' alang 
 the water like a witch. It's the same, it's the same that 
 beset us afore." 
 
 It was too true. A low black hull, with a huge cloud 
 of canvas, was running along with the laud breeze, and 
 overhauling the felucca so fast that she appeared to be 
 already within gunshot. Partan kindled up into the stout 
 seaman once more. 
 
 " Out wi' the canoe ! " he shouted, " and pit the leddies 
 aboard her; and you, Tinwald, and the Span'ard must 
 gang wi' her. Andreas can make his ain terms, for the 
 buccaneers are aye friendly wi' these Indians." 
 
 There was no time to lose. The felucca was brought up 
 to the wind, and the terrified ladies and old Janet were 
 handed over into the canoe, with such water and provisions 
 as could be instantly got hold of: a couple of English sailors, 
 too, to pull; and so they shoved oif, in shelter of the 
 felucca, who had now her broadside to the approaching 
 buccaneer. There was room for no more in the canoe, and 
 Partan swore that he would throw himself into the sea, if 
 
DARlEtf. 275 
 
 they waited for him. Time pressed, and, without further 
 hesitation, they rowed away for life or liberty. There was 
 a fearful suspense now, for the breeze had also failed the 
 buccaneer, and she came on but slowly : but she was 
 rigging out her long sweeps, and would soon make way. 
 Suddenly a flash gleamed from her long swivel gun, as 
 Partan, with his face turned to the canoe, was waving his 
 old weather-beaten hand in farewell : the next moment he 
 disappeared: that shot had cut him in two, and at the 
 same time carried away the felucca's main-sheet. She fell 
 off before the wind, and as she glided by the poor sailor's 
 body, a broadside from the buccaneer rang his requiem 
 over the dark deep sea. Andreas then lowered his flag, 
 which he had only kept standing to divert attention from 
 the fugitives ; instantly the buccaneer ranged up alongside 
 of him. At the same time clouds began to darken over the 
 sky, so lately glowing with all the colours of a dying 
 dolphin. The experienced freebooters, having flung a grap 
 pling-iron on board the felucca, shortened sail with won 
 derful rapidity, as their vessel dragged their prize along 
 with them through the water. A few words of explanation 
 from Andreas seemed to satisfy their captain, who lay 
 motionless upon his deck all the while. He had by this 
 time detected the canoe, though now a mere speck upon the 
 water ; and he was about to give chase, when a new object 
 diverted his attention. Two Spanish galleons had been 
 lying in Carthagena, ready for sea. The enraged Inqui 
 sitor had compelled the governor to order them to pursue 
 his destined victim, and they now became visible, carrying 
 the refreshing wind with them from the land. The invalid 
 captain instantly threw his schooner up into the wind, and 
 beat back fearlessly to meet them. The felucca meanwhile 
 had rove a new main-sheet, and stood after the canoe. 
 Andreas knew that if the coming gale overtook that fragile . 
 skiff, it must instantly be swamped; aud he gallantly 
 crowded all sail, at the risk of being overtaken by the 
 squall, and carrying away his masts. But still as he flew 
 along to the north, he turned his admiring eyes from time to 
 time back upon the daring buccaneer, who was now stand 
 ing up towards the pursuers, though either of them could 
 command twice the number of his own guns and men : the 
 encounter that he was about to dare was long afterwards 
 
 s2 
 
276 DAKIEff. 
 
 remembered in those seas, and has been handed down by 
 history. The Spanish ships came on, closing with each 
 other, to cut off, as they conceived, all possibility of escape 
 from the pirate. But no thought of escape entered the 
 mind of Lawrence (for he it was, as the reader will have 
 guessed) . He had been lying in wait for one of these very 
 ships, and the expected presence of her consort could not 
 daunt him from his purpose. The men who served him 
 were of his own sort, and welcomed the alternative of death 
 or conquest with a wild cheer, as the blood-red flag ran up 
 aloft and streamed out upon the rising gale. A few shots 
 from his enemies whistled over him unanswered. He wore 
 his schooner, and letting his topsail go by the run, soon 
 found himself overtaken by, and between, his pursuers: 
 they ceased firing for fear of injuring each other ; their 
 grappling-irons were cast on board the pirate unresistingly, 
 and he was called upon to surrender, as the vessels lay all 
 three locked together, and moving like one body through 
 the water. Lawrence reclined (for he was still unable to 
 stand) by an open hatchway, beneath which lay the powder 
 magazine, now thrown open. His men, huddled into a close 
 mass, were clustered round the bows ; they seemed instinc 
 tively to shrink from the coming explosion, but they bristled 
 with tomahawks and cutlasses. Lawrence, in answer to the 
 summons to surrender, pointed down to the magazine. 
 
 " Twenty barrels of powder," he shouted, " only wait 
 for your first shot, to blow you all to hell ! " 
 
 The Spaniards, stout as they were, shrank from the 
 sudden and imminent destruction. The buccaneer was 
 well known to them : they did not doubt that he would 
 keep his word; and his face, now transformed into the 
 aspect of a fiend, seemed to assure it. A dreadful pause of 
 a moment ensued. Then one of the Spaniards cast off his 
 grappling-irons and stood away, but carried with him a 
 shower of unquenchable fireballs which the buccaneers had 
 flung upon his decks and into his hold : every man on board 
 only thought of extinguishing them, and the ship ran away 
 before the wiud. Then Lawrence, with his pistol still pre 
 sented to- his magazine, shouted to his men ; and they 
 leaped upon the deck of the other Spaniard, whose crew, 
 all unnerved by the still-threatened explosion, scarcely 
 offered any resistance. In a few minutes, they were con- 
 
DARIEK. 277 
 
 quered, slain, flung overboard ; and the bloody flag floated 
 over the broad banner of the yellow and scarlet that so 
 lately had flaunted proudly from their masthead. But the 
 bugle of their chief soon recalled the boarders. Some brief 
 orders were given : half-a-dozen hands were left on board 
 the prize to work her, and the rest made all sail on their 
 own little craft. The remaining Spaniard was now on fire 
 forward, and her dry sails burned up rapidly into three 
 pillars of flame. The despairing crew had retreated to the 
 lofty poop, and were trying to lower their boats, but Law 
 rence ranged up alongside and poured in a steady fire of 
 musketry, under which they fell fast. Among them was 
 seen a Dominican friar standing with folded arms, awaiting 
 his fate with stern composure. But as soon as the bucca 
 neer was near enough to be recognised, he addressed Law 
 rence as an old acquaintance, and commanded him to cease 
 firing, and to send his boat to take him on board. Law 
 rence crossed himself, and turned away. The firing was re 
 newed for a few minutes, but the flames had now eaten their 
 way aft, and were creeping up to the poop. The buccaneer 
 stood away to avoid the explosion which must soon take 
 place, and the miserable Spanish crew threw themselves 
 into the sea. There for a few minutes they remained 
 floundering about, but they were soon suddenly twitched 
 under water, and the quickly-ensanguined waves showed 
 that the sharks were busily at work. The friar's dark form 
 was still to be seen on the ship, relieved off the flames, that 
 towered up behind him : all at once they ceased, as if con 
 centrating all their efforts below, and then shot up into the 
 sky, scattering far and wide every remnant of the ship. 
 The little crew of the canoe, meanwhile, as soon as they 
 observed the felucca bearing down upon them, imagined 
 that the buccaneers had taken possession of her, and were 
 thus continuing the pursuit. Then all that fear could do 
 in brave hearts was tried : not only no quarter for the men, 
 but the respite awaiting the women was still worse. One 
 strange hope gleamed across the mind of Alice : it might be 
 Lawrence who thus pursued them, and he might still re 
 member enough of his love for her to spare her companions. 
 Tinwald watched the approaching vessel in silence, con 
 tented yes, that is the word contented to repose upon his 
 faith that all things work for good. Isobel, in her agony of 
 
278 DABIEff. 
 
 fear, clung to Alvaro, fearing a thousand times more for 
 him, because she thought that neither in this world nor the 
 next should she ever again behold him him, who stood so 
 nobly dauntless there, pressing her to his strong heart, and 
 defying fate to paralyse the joy that pressure gave him. 
 But his thoughts were darkened even then by one doubt. 
 Was it not better for Isobel to die with him than to survive 
 among those ruthless ruffians of the coast ? Aye, die the 
 terrible death that lay in wait beneath them, where the 
 sharks were gleaming to and fro, and even biting at the 
 oars which still, though hopelessly, swiftly swept the sea. 
 Tinwald read his thoughts, and shared their temptation, 
 but he did not yield. His eyes wandered from the resolute 
 form of Alvaro to the poor old woman who had followed 
 her young charges into such deadly hazards. He could 
 not help admiring the proud bearing of the Moor in that 
 moment of trial ; but he admired still more his aged coun 
 trywoman who, with hands clasped and eyes upturned, was 
 praying fervently, trustingly, and aloud. Another danger 
 was now approaching ; for the rising wind had begun to 
 break the hitherto calm surface of the sea into short angry 
 waves, and the canoe was labouring perilously. Tinwald 
 began to think that thus, perhaps, they might be rescued 
 from the buccaneers, and " win to death" without the guilt 
 of suicide. But the felucca was now nearing them rapidly, 
 and even shortening sail with the evident intention of 
 taking them up safely. Alvaro looked down to gaze once 
 more upon Isobel. Tinwald, who was steering, had his 
 back towards the pursuer ; and the two English sailors 
 were almost blinded by sweat and their exertions at the 
 oar, sustained to the last. Suddenly old Janet burst out 
 into a strain of exultation that made her companions sup 
 pose she had gone mad. She expressed her joy in the 
 words of Deborah to Barak ; and stretched out her arms 
 eagerly to Andreas, whose joyful face she perceived over 
 the bows of the felucca, as he made signs to the sailors to 
 rest their oars. * * * 
 
 "When the lately despairing friends found themselves 
 once more on board the felucca, what a very ark it seemed ! 
 The rapture of their conscious safety tried them far more 
 than the extremity of danger had done ; and the stout 
 sailors wiped away more than one te$r with the perspira- 
 
DAKIEtf. 27 
 
 tion that poured from their foreheads : Tinwald uttered a 
 solemn thanksgiving for their safety in the name of all ; 
 and as the women sobbed out their sympathy, an unwonted 
 moisture stood even in the eyes of Alvaro. Safe, however, 
 as they seemed to be, in comparison with their late condi 
 tion, there was still much to be done. The buccaneer and 
 her prize had disappeared below the horizon, but it was 
 necessary to alter their course in order to elude pursuit, 
 and the gale increased as night drew near. Jamaica was 
 the only safe refuge that Alvaro could hope for ; for there, 
 England's flag was flying; and even then that flag had 
 power to protect all who sought its shelter. 
 
 The felucca's course was, therefore, laid for that island, 
 and in a short time her crew and passengers resumed the 
 position from which they had been disturbed by the 
 buccaneer all, except the faithful old sailor, who was 
 mourned for with a depth of sorrow that many an admiral's 
 manes might have envied. 
 
 CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 O land first seen when life lay all unknown, 
 Like an unvisited country o'er the wave ! 
 
 Which now my travell'd heart looks back upon, 
 Marking each sunny path, each gloomy cave, 
 
 With here a memory, and there a grave : 
 I love you, I remember you, though years 
 
 Have fleeted o'er the hills my spirit knew. 
 
 HON. MRS. NORTON. 
 
 THE reader will have guessed that the friar had communi 
 cated his discovery of Alvaro's identity to his assistant 
 officer, and had directed him, on landing at Carthagena, to 
 summon the authorities to execute the decree of the Inqui 
 sition. The merchants of Carthagena were renowned 
 amongst all mercantile communities for their liberal spirit 
 and honourable dealing ; but they did not dare to oppose 
 the authority of the lioman Church, which then brooded 
 over the world with terrible and mysterious influence. The 
 penalties of disobedience were awful ; extending beyond 
 
280 DAEIEHT. 
 
 death and tortures, to eternal excommunication, and the 
 punishment of children yet unborn. The children of the 
 Church, at Carthagena, would have resisted, as they had 
 already done, the most powerful army of buccaneers, but 
 they shrank before the mandate of a single stranger, when 
 backed by the authority of the Church. 
 
 Accordingly Alvaro was banished, with all his wealth and 
 enterprise, and the many advantages that he would have 
 bestowed upon Spanish America. The same fell persecu 
 tion that had made Granada desolate, that had reduced 
 Italy to poverty and disgrace, and Spain to imbecility and 
 premature old age ; the power that had converted the fer 
 tile fields of Hispaniola into a wilderness the same power 
 now seized upon the wealth of Carthagena's most enter 
 prising merchant, and converted its beneficent commercial 
 circulation into instruments of future persecution. 
 
 The felucca flew along before the wind ; and the women, 
 worn out by excitement and the fatigue of the previous 
 night, retired to rest. Alvaro and his friend still watched, 
 together and in silence, the last blue speck that remained 
 of New Spain. Their great scheme was interrupted; the 
 isthmus must still remain a barrier (and perhaps for ages 
 yet to come) against all intercourse between the uttermost 
 ends of the Old "World through the heart of the New. The 
 past had crumbled into dust beneath the partners' feet; 
 they had to build up a new edifice upon the future a great 
 and wide foundation. 
 
 Alvaro, therefore, now found reason to congratulate him 
 self that he had been induced by this defeated purpose, 
 to concentrate his widely-scattered interests in London. 
 Though comparatively a small part of his property in Car 
 thagena had been saved, he might still account himself one 
 of the wealthiest merchants of his time. 
 
 The next day and the next, with fine weather and 
 smooth water, returned all that charmed life which only 
 such a voyage can inspire. The sea, in its lucid intervals, 
 and in summer latitudes, affords the most delightful, as well 
 as the sublimest, of all views to a meditative mind. And 
 to those circumstanced as our travellers were, the charm of 
 moving rapidly, yet without personal motion, over the mys 
 terious depths of ocean, was enhanced by their isolation. 
 Within that floating island, winged with its snowy canvas, 
 
DAEIEtf. 281 
 
 was concentrated all that the heart would range the world 
 eagerly in search of. There it lay, always within reach, 
 always available, without worldly or vulgar cares to inter 
 rupt the course of happily monotonous events ; or the un- 
 reproached selfishness with which those " other selves " 
 were watched over and caressed. 
 
 Alice and Paterson already enjoyed all the calm of a 
 haven, after the troubled ocean of cares that they had 
 passed. But Alvaro was still in a state of anxious uncer 
 tainty with respect to Isobel. 
 
 There was a near approach to a perfect understanding and 
 sympathy between that simple, unsophisticated Scottish girl, 
 and the wealthy, aspiring Moor, whose ambition (though 
 he confessed it not) was unbounded, and whose cultivated 
 genius looked down upon the world as it lay spread before 
 him at his feet. Yet there was one bar, and that a fatal one, 
 to the union, or perfect communion of these otherwise all- 
 happy lovers. Isobel cherished her national creed with 
 puritanic fervor ; and Alvaro was one of those who looked 
 to no future life ; but this discovery had not yet been de 
 clared, or their happiness would have been ended. For, 
 next to love, and sometimes before it, a sense of sacrifice is 
 most dear to a woman's heart ; and when she is devout and 
 has a chance of immolating her feelings to her faith, she 
 seldom loses that chance at least as long as it has the poig 
 nancy of novelty ; for such strength as hers is seldom adapted 
 to resist a sap, though all-powerful against open assault. 
 
 In a word, Alvaro was pleading his passion to one who 
 returned it with interest ; yet he was pleading it in vain. 
 
 The cousins had taken counsel together, and together 
 had strengthened poor Isobel's little heart to the relinquish 
 ing of its happiness. When a man is refused on such 
 grounds, however, he seldom fails to lean more upon the 
 tenderness that betrays itself, than the abnegation which is 
 ostentatiously put forward. 
 
 " The sad resolve which is a wise man's vow," 
 
 expresses itself in looks, and words, and tones, that reveal 
 no arriere pensee. But a woman's resolve, when it is a sad 
 one, is seldom so well guarded as to externals. Hers is the 
 glance half, and but half averted ; the faltering voice ; the 
 heart ready to burst beneath its trial ; almost seeming to 
 
282 DAEIEtf. 
 
 plead against its sacrifice. Above all, Isobel's was a beauty 
 which conflicting emotions serve only to enhance. 
 
 Alvaro still feared to precipitate a decision that might 
 conclusively destroy his hope, and gave himself up with 
 recklessness of the future, to such enjoyment as the present 
 hours afforded. His richly-stored mind enabled him to se 
 cure a deeply-interested listener whenever and howsoever 
 long he spoke ; and Isobel listened as she thought only with 
 her mind, but it was with her very heart. If her lover had 
 been dilating on the differential calculus, his words would 
 have appeared full of meaning and of light to her. 
 
 At length, with mingled feelings of joy and sorrow, the 
 voyagers made the land, and soon after came to anchor off 
 Biewfields, then a considerable seaport. There lay Alvaro's 
 ship, the Buenaventura, which had discharged her passenger 
 at St. Jago, and was now waiting for her owner's further 
 orders. Andreas was dismissed with bountiful remunera 
 tion for his services ; the friends took possession of the ship, 
 and the fair companions of their dangers rested gratefully 
 in a cottage on the shore. There, soon afterwards, Alice 
 became the wife of Paterson, whom thenceforth she cheered 
 and supported patiently in all his trials ; until at length 
 she sealed her love and truthfulness in his last great enter 
 prise. 
 
 As soon as the usual assembly of ships was ready to sail 
 for England, the wanderers resumed their home ward-bound 
 course. It was only too short for its chief passengers. 
 Paterson was entirely happy happier than it is safe to be 
 in his love and in his speculative dreams. If the winds 
 lifted up their voices and the ship was hurried along over 
 the tumultuous waves, it was well with him, for he was 
 brought nearer to the scenes of his future labour. If every 
 'breath was hushed, and the ship lay tranquil and unmoved 
 upon the star-strewn breast of ocean, it was also well 
 with him, for his bride was by his side with gentle, loving 
 looks, and sweet words and playful thoughts, by which he 
 suffered himself to be diverted from his most cherished 
 schemes. 
 
 At such times, too, Isobel would sing the heart-touching 
 songs of Scotland, spreading over the lonely waters the spell 
 of such melody as sailors love, such tones as might seem 
 echoes of mermaid minstrelsy. And at such times, Alvaro 
 
DARIEtf. 283 
 
 would listen with a softened heart, and wonder if there 
 must not be an immortality, at least for such as Isobel. 
 And when the song was ended, the Moor would draw near 
 the singer timidly, and endeavour by words full of loving 
 subtlety, to approach a sympathy which she mournfully 
 withheld. 
 
 With all such pleasures, and such pains as were equiva 
 lent to most other joys, the voyage was quickly made, and 
 Alvaro was soon lodged in one of the gloomy but spacious 
 palaces that now lie hidden among dark lanes in London, 
 and, as warehouses, groan beneath the weight of all nations' 
 produce. 
 
 Paterson and his bride, with her cousin and old Janet, 
 lived together in a house in Cheapside. The travelled Scot 
 had been honourably welcomed by the great mercantile 
 community, among whom his proposal to form a Bank of 
 England had early attracted great attention. Alvaro had 
 proposed to execute a deed of partnership, on their first 
 arrival : but to this Paterson firmly refused to consent. It 
 was his friend's capital alone, he maintained, that had 
 founded his fortunes ; it was also his high spirit of enter 
 prise and moral courage that had built them up. 
 
 "For myself," continued the disinterested Paterson, " I 
 claim the same remuneration that you would have given to 
 your chief clerk ; and more than that it will not comport with 
 my honour to accept, or with your delicacy to insist upon." 
 
 It appears that this difficult point was at length settled 
 by Paterson receiving ten thousand pounds, and Alvaro 
 proceeded in his mercantile career alone. His friend de 
 voted himself to the elucidation of his plan for founding the 
 Eank of England ; and having entrusted its details, as he 
 thought, to honourable hands, he set out on a visit to Scot 
 land. He desired earnestly to refresh his patriotic heart 
 with a sight of his native hills ; but this would not have in 
 duced him to part so soon from his new-found home, had it 
 not been that his affairs there required his presence. 
 
 In those days a journey to Scotland was a serious under 
 taking ; and Alice was obliged to content herself with her 
 lodging in Cheapside and her cousin's society during her 
 husband's absence. 
 
 The old manor-house of Tinwald looked very small, and 
 gloomy, and desolate, but it was not the less dear for that. 
 
284 DAEIEF. 
 
 The castle of Caerlaverock seemed unchanged by as much 
 as a fresh branch of ivy. The Peel-house had been alto 
 gether closed up ; and when the door and windows were 
 now opened, a peculiar odour, not altogether unlike that of 
 punch, brought back reminiscences of old Tarn's conviviali 
 ties, and poor Partan's weakness. The kail-yard was over 
 grown with weeds, and the few flowers that Alice had 
 cherished were looking as wild almost as the thistles and 
 nettles that had encroached upon their borders. But in 
 one corner of the little wilderness a gean-tree arrested Tin- 
 wald's attention. Unlike its kindred, the fruit upon its 
 boughs was withered and shrunken ; the ground beneath it 
 had evidently been disturbed. There, then, Tinwald sought 
 for the money which the doting/ old man had buried ; and 
 there he found it, in an old iron porridge-pot ; about two 
 thousand pounds in all, a considerable sum for those days, 
 yet far less than Tarn had probably been possessed of; but 
 Tarn's was not a singular case of hoarded wealth disappear 
 ing unaccountably. The infructuousness of a miser's money 
 has long since given birth to a standing proverb. 
 
 *The laird of Tinwald was kindly welcomed by tenants 
 who no longer called him master : and he rejoiced that he 
 had still a place among them. He duteously repaired the 
 old manor-house, and re-established more than one falling 
 cottage in the village. The little community was beginning 
 to droop under the influence of a grasping landlord, who 
 considered nothing but its rents. The gaps caused by time 
 were not filled up, and the people faded away. Madden 
 Itay had been drowned at sea ; young Swilltap had found 
 means to escape his stern father, and was supposed to have 
 joined Lawrence on the Spanish Main. It was with a sad 
 dened heart that Tinwald once more turned his face from 
 his mournful home to seek his destiny in new scenes. 
 
 " Here ends Book the Second," said I to the Highlander, 
 who replied, rather drowsily 
 
 " I'm glad on't ; for now we'll get to the pith of the 
 story, the great scheme itself; I hope ye winna mak it sae 
 dry as your merchant's affairs. I hope, too, you're not gae- 
 ing to drag us into a controversy between the heathen and 
 the lassie ; for siccan bulks as your's are nae seemly recep- 
 
DAHIEff. 2S5 
 
 tacles for solemn truths ; and the less that infidel arguments 
 are expounded the better. The unregenerate saul is aye 
 prone to find mair strength in them, than in siccan refuta 
 tion as you can gie, be'in nac divine." 
 
 To this observation I fully agreed, and assured my censor 
 that such matters should be passed over as lightly and yet 
 respectfully as possible. For the dryness that he appre 
 hended, I was more solicitous, inasmuch as it is impossible 
 to convert downright matters of business into anything like 
 amusement. 
 
 "When next we met, the MS. was resumed as follows : 
 
286 DAEIEN. 
 
 BOOK THE THIRD. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 Weep not for treasure lost, 
 Weep not for fair hopes cross'd ; 
 Weep not when limbs wax old, 
 Weep not when friends grow cold ; 
 Weep not that Death must part 
 Thine and the best-loved heart ; 
 
 Yet weep, weep all thou can 
 Weep, weep because thou art 
 
 A sin-defiled man. 
 
 R. C. TRENCH. 
 
 THE merchant prince had reached London about two 
 months since, in one of the finest ships then known. He 
 had taken a proud pleasure in rendering it as magnificent 
 for Isobel as if she were queen of the world as well as of 
 his heart. To Alvaro, wealth had lost its ordinary signifi 
 cance ; he measured all purchaseable things, not by their 
 cost, but by his desire, if for himself; or by his sympa 
 thy, if for others. He had with him only the wreck of 
 his fortune at Carthagena (all else had been instantly pos 
 sessed by the Holy Officials), but that was in itself of great 
 value: and even now his ships must be approaching the 
 Thames from Venice, Alexandria, Genoa, Peru, Mexico, 
 and the northern seas ; concentrating his widely-scattered 
 property in the one vast metropolis where such wealth 
 could remain secure. 
 
 His reception among the great merchants of London 
 was, as might be expected, frank, cordial, and honourable. 
 The story of his misfortunes was soon (too soon) noised 
 abroad, and made him doubly welcome among citizens who 
 had just escaped from a Borne-ridden monarch. 
 
 William the. Third, in pursuance of his life-long scheme 
 to abase the power of Prance, then cultivated friendly re 
 lations with Spain ; but the refugee from oppression was 
 as safe in the sanctuary of England as all England's power, 
 
DARIEtf. 287 
 
 and her yet mightier name, could render him. Alvaro had 
 been exiled from his native land, and pursued by the same 
 tyranny to the country of his adoption. He was thus 
 thoroughly undenizened, and his heart blessed the free 
 soil that extended to him its shelter and security. His 
 sanguine and energetic mind would formerly have ex 
 patiated into new enterprises in the genial atmosphere of 
 a city that has sent forth more mighty projects, perhaps, 
 than all the kingdoms of the earth put together. But that 
 spirit was dead within Alvaro for the time. He transacted 
 his affairs with a languor and indifference at variance 
 with his usual habits ; and his new friends wondered how 
 such a man could have ever achieved for himself a world 
 wide name and colossal fortune. 
 
 But the mightiest heart has only room for one passion 
 at a time to rule therein ; and when a passion is once de 
 throned, it becomes not only powerless but importunate. 
 The weight of his affairs, which Alvaro formerly rejoiced 
 in, now became a very burden. His searching eyes and 
 keen intelligence, no longer bent upon his various and 
 widely-scattered interests, were now turned inwards : in 
 the workings of his own soul he found a more anxious 
 field for inquiry and observation than in the commerce of 
 a world. And while the pilot's watchfulness was thus 
 diverted, faint symptoms of approaching but unnoticed 
 storms began to threaten his bark. Those dim reports, 
 ao untraceable in their origin, so rapid in transmission, 
 which affect the sensitive barometer of credit, began to be 
 whispered. Two or three of his richest ships were lost ; 
 but that scarcely inspired him with any regret, except for 
 their crews' sake. A lonely man in the world, and appa 
 rently destined to remain so, he was almost indifferent to 
 the loss or accumulation of money, or only regarded it as 
 gamblers do their counters. 
 
 One day, however, he required a large sum of money for 
 some sudden occasion in Paris, and he announced his re 
 quirement, expecting that it would be readily complied 
 with. But no ; the whole community of moneyed men, 
 like so many feelers of one great polypus, at once drew in. 
 This was not from distrust of the open-hearted stranger, 
 but from professional tactics. Had he gone to any one of 
 them, and frankly explained his wants and his power to 
 
288 DAEIEN. 
 
 meet them, the brave confidence of his brother merchants 
 would have readily been bestowed ; but this, he who a 
 short time before could have commanded millions, was too 
 proud to do. To ask comparative strangers to share their 
 hard-earned wealth with him as a favour, appeared to him 
 to be monstrous, and the practical Paterson was not near 
 to control his imaginative caprices. The demand of his 
 correspondent, therefore, was only answered by postpone 
 ment ; and this, coupled with the rumours of his extensive 
 losses at Carthagena and at sea, shook his credit to its 
 foundation at Paris. Amsterdam and Hamburgh imme 
 diately caught up the alarm. Demands came pouring in 
 upon the scarcely yet established house of Alvaro, and 
 surprised him as much as if he had never been in business, 
 to which, indeed, practically he was almost a stranger; 
 adverse winds delayed his expected ships, and speeded on 
 at the same time the news of his reported embarrassment. 
 Some of his most deeply indebted correspondents seized 
 the opportunity to become bankrupts. 
 
 In the course of a month, when Paterson returned to 
 London, he was encountered with a report that Alvaro 
 was a ruined man. He hastened to his friend, and found 
 him sitting composedly in the window of his house, looking 
 out upon the river. After the first greeting was over, the 
 Scot asked the whole question in three words : 
 
 "Is it true?" 
 
 " If you have heard anything to justify that anxious 
 look, it must be so," responded his friend, quietly. 
 
 "But cannot anything be done?" pursued Paterson. 
 " Surely a great house like yours is not to collapse at 
 once, and disappear, as if it were a mere huxter's ven 
 ture. I will go among the merchants and jewellers, and 
 will tell them all. It is not want of means, but want of 
 effort, that is prostrating you. Let me hasten to repair 
 the injuries which I perceive that your pride and your 
 fastidiousness have already caused you." 
 
 "Not if you love me," Alvaro replied, -almost sternly. 
 " I would not, if I could, resume my anxious eminence 
 among those suspicious, ungenerous countrymen of yours. 
 I have lost a game, which, in sooth, I cared little to win. 
 No one else will lose : of that be assured ; for the only 
 anxiety I have felt, and the only trouble I have taken, has 
 
DAEIEN. 289 
 
 been to ascertain that fact. Though deeply suffering (as is 
 is called) myself, no other shall suffer for me. I am as 
 least clear with the world; and I have a diamond here, 
 which will suffice for all my wants." 
 
 As may be supposed, Paterson eagerly placed all that 
 he possessed at the disposal of his friend; but he did so 
 very modestly ; and Alvaro, though he was touched, smiled 
 within himself, as he determinately rejected the poor pit 
 tance of a few thousand pounds. Just then, a stealthy 
 knock at the door announced a lean, little, anxious-looking 
 man, with whom, though he was eminent in the city, Al 
 varo was scarcely acquainted. He intimated that he had 
 private business with the Don ; and Paterson withdrew. 
 
 Master Wilson, as he was named, looked round him 
 cautiously, as if about to divulge some dangerous secret; 
 and then he addressed Alvaro very frankly, but with an air 
 of respect that conciliated the proud Spaniard more than 
 he was conscious of. 
 
 " I come," said the visitor, " on the part of the firm that 
 I represent, to offer you the use of any sum within our 
 power to dispose of. The singular coincidence of casual 
 ties that must have deranged your calculations for the pre 
 sent, is not unknown to us ; but your high name and un 
 impeachable honour are more than sufficient to set against 
 such uncontrollable accidents. Tour retirement would in 
 volve a great loss in every respect to our community ; and 
 it is, therefore, rather in the way of business than of ac 
 commodation, that we make this offer. I have only one 
 stipulation to make that if you honour us by accepting 
 this proposal, the transaction may remain a secret." 
 
 Alvaro had scarcely bowed out this gentleman, when 
 another presented himself on the same errand. Several 
 similar offers were made to him ; some couched in the 
 most delicate terms ; some, perhaps as kindly meant, in a 
 manner that made Alvaro feel more resentment than grati 
 tude. But, on the whole, the broken merchant, who would 
 have almost found a pleasure in experiencing Timon's bit 
 terness, was obliged to confess to himself that the conduct 
 of those whom he condemned collectively, was, individually, 
 chivalrously generous and confiding. As it is not the busi 
 ness, however, but the man whom we are describing, we shall 
 only say that Alvaro refused all assistance, and met his ruin 
 
 T 
 
290 DAEIEN. 
 
 with proud philosophy, and a sort of Oriental fatalism, 
 which to Paterson appeared suicidal. In many such trans 
 actions time is everything. Even for this, Alvaro refused 
 to ask, and his ruin was precipitated : his very house, and 
 the ship he had arrived in, were ordered by him to be sold 
 hastily; and he then, with a pleased sort of reluctance, 
 consented to become the guest of his well-tried friend, at 
 his lodgings in Cheapside. 
 
 Then came the true trial of Isobel's constancy. As long 
 as her lover was proudly prosperous, romantic disinterested 
 ness helped to strengthen her resolution. Now, what joy 
 it would have been to share his poverty, and walk with him 
 side by side in his narrow and obscure path, cheering and 
 brightening whatever toil he chose to submit to ! These 
 thoughts insensibly betrayed themselves in her look, and 
 voice, and manner, and made his adversity far more de 
 lightful than successful ambition ever could have been 
 to him. 
 
 But a new trial awaited the fallen merchant. One day, 
 Paterson returned with a melancholy in his countenance 
 that foreboded evil tidings. He had just received a claim 
 from Carthagena for all the outstanding engagements of 
 Alvaro there, which the confiscators of his property had 
 refused to acknowledge. Alvaro had already almost re 
 duced himself to destitution ; and this new claim, being 
 altogether one of honour, wounded him sorely. The next 
 morning, however, he appeared with his usual proud, melan 
 choly serenity ; and the same day, the uttermost demand 
 upon him was answered. His diamond ring, his mother's 
 gift, an heir-loom of enormous value, was gone ; but the 
 brighter jewel of his honour was retained. 
 
 Alvaro now walked through the streets of London, un 
 occupied and uninterested. He was become one of the 
 myriads who seem to haunt rather than to dwell among 
 the scenes of their vanished prosperity. But he did not 
 share in the broken-heartedness of his broken brethren. 
 He found a deep interest in analysing sensations which 
 had hitherto been unintelligible to him. He almost luxu 
 riated in the novelty of being a poor man: it gave an 
 earnestness to life, or seemed to be capable of doing so. 
 He began to feel that there might be a great pleasure in 
 struggling upward ; and that wealth, after all, might be a 
 
DARIEST. 291 
 
 real good, and well worth repossessing. He felt that he 
 had only to exert himself, in order to attain that object. 
 
 But ever, as such thoughts arose in his mind, Alvaro 
 found that Isobel was in some manner connected with 
 them all. As long as his relation with her remained in 
 suspense, he felt that he had no heart to enter upon a new 
 career. Either happiness or sorrow would nerve his mind ; 
 doubt alone could paralyse his energies. He knew that 
 Isobel loved him ; but he almost knew too, that she feared 
 his belief, or unbelief, to the exclusion of all thoughts of 
 uniting her fate to his. He was too generous himself, to 
 suppose for a moment that his fallen fortunes could alter 
 her sentiments with respect to him, and he at length 
 resolved to try how far those sentiments extended. 
 
 " You are looking very solemn this evening," he said to 
 Isobel ; " dare I interpret your sadness still to apply in 
 any wise to my case?" 
 
 " Have we not seen enough to make us all thoughtful, 
 both for ourselves and others, lately?" she replied. "I 
 often think of that dreadful crisis when your life appeared 
 to hang but on a thread ; if you had fallen then, I some 
 times ask myself, where would you be now ? " 
 
 Alvaro smiled : " Trying to look down on you from the 
 nearest of yonder stars, perhaps." 
 
 " Alas ! the things of this present unreal world of ours 
 are too grave to jest at ; do not mock at those of the awful 
 world of truth beyond our ken. Surely, after the many 
 escapes you have had, you must feel that you have been 
 spared for a better purpose than to scoff?" 
 
 " But suppose, dear lady, that I am spared, and spared, 
 and that unavailingly, after all: in what respect have I 
 then to be grateful for opportunities that only add to my 
 condemnation, according to your creed ? It seems a mere 
 evasion on the part of destiny, to appear to be very 
 charitable, and yet make more sure of its vengeance after 
 all." 
 
 Isobel had stored up many excellent arguments in her 
 own mind against this long-desired opportunity ; but now 
 that she was called upon to produce them, she mistrusted 
 their efficacy. She began to think that it might be well to 
 ascertain what she was arguing against. 
 
 "I will not ask you," she said, "have you any belief; 
 
 T 2 
 
292 DABIEtf. 
 
 for the veriest savages, as I hear, have never, in any part of 
 the world, been found without some faith." 
 
 " I believe that there is a beneficent Being," said Alvaro, 
 " else such as you could not exist ; I believe also that there 
 is a malevolent being, else I could not. But beyond this, 
 I will confess, at the risk of giving you pain, that I have 
 nothing that can be called a creed. I have sought in many 
 dogmas some that would suit my soul (if I have a soul) r 
 but I have found none. I believe in the historical part 
 (that is to say, the Pentateuch) of our Bible; but its 
 poetry (that is to say, its prophecies) has never affected 
 me in any other light. You will say that many wise men 
 believe it. True. I have tried the Veda, the JShaster, the 
 Zendavesta, the Koran, and other repositories of what is 
 also believed by many millions ; but they were not be 
 lievable to me and trust me, belief is no voluntary act to 
 a mind accustomed to reason. Your sacred book is very 
 wonderful ; but as for the new part of it, the priests who 
 murdered my father, my mother, and my friend, justified 
 themselves by its precepts ; so I will have none of it." 
 
 " But," remonstrated Isobel, who began to warm in the 
 controversy, " if a mere man who was virtuous, were 
 calumniated by evil men, and his very words miscon 
 strued, in order to serve their purposes would you at 
 tribute to him their evil deeds ? I know you would not. 
 Especially if he, foreseeing into how many unrighteous 
 arguments his words might be perverted, showed forth in 
 his own pure life an example of perfect charity and for 
 bearance. What false Christians, then, are they who 
 justify atrocities by teaching that 'we may do evil that 
 good may come !' " 
 
 " Truly," said Alvaro, " that is a strong point of yours, 
 and may partly refute my petulant objection. But as to 
 the question of creed it seems to me not to be a matter 
 of argument, which is an exercise of the intellectual 
 faculty; but of sentiment, which is an emotion of the 
 soul, such as any old bedridden beggar may enjoy as fully, 
 or perhaps more so, than the profoundest rabbi, or mollah, 
 or divine." 
 
 Isobel acknowledged this, and considered it to be in 
 accordance with what she held as most true. Alvaro dis 
 sented, and became impatient. At last he exclaimed, 
 
DARIEN. 283 
 
 " Let us abandon this inconclusive discourse. All that 
 can be said upon it argumentatively, has been advanced to 
 me long ago by my dear friend, and partner (as I may now 
 call him, I hope, without offence). Whatever can be said 
 upon it otherwise, would come most persuasively from your 
 lips ; but I should distrust any such feeling all the more, 
 as whatever it might be, it would be equally irresistible. 
 My ancestors required forty years, they say, to be extri 
 cated from their wanderings in the wilderness : do not 
 blame me if I cannot reach at one bound from my desert 
 unbelief into the asylum of faith that you would oifer me ; 
 if I enter therein, it must be with free purpose, not like a 
 wild duck into a decoy. And yet, methinks, in your com 
 pany I could be led anywhere. Isobel can you say as 
 much ? Isobel will you be my fellow-pilgrim in this 
 visible, and into the invisible world?" 
 
 Never comes temptation in so plausible a form as when 
 resistance to it may be imputed to selfishness. Why 
 should not Isobel join her fate to that of a man who 
 might be lost for ever without her ? If her death only 
 were required, would not her Iphigenia sacrifice have been 
 freely offered to speed him into the desired haven ? Yei 
 was she to shrink timidly from devoting her life to him, 
 lest her faith and her religious safety might suffer from, 
 contact with his sceptic soul ? She knew that hitherto, 
 in the absence of the true compass, she had been his 
 guiding star; should she withdraw that feeble light, and 
 leave such a gallant bark to all the dangerous chances of a 
 dark and deceitful world ? 
 
 A thousand such thoughts crowded into the poor girl's 
 mind, as her blue eyes gleamed tearfully through their 
 long dark lashes on the ground ; and her bosom heaved 
 with the strong struggles of her heart. How desolate 
 that bosom, that fair white throne would be, if she did 
 not yield to her own arguments ! She felt the deep, 
 searching, earnest gaze of Alvaro upon her ; she well re 
 membered what various expressions it had revealed to her 
 before now hope and lofty thought, and manly fortitude, 
 and indomitable resolution; but always, over all, tender 
 ness for and sympathy with her. What could make her 
 hesitate ? 
 
 There is sometimes, in the critical emergencies and 
 
294 DARIEtf. 
 
 doubts of our souls, a mysterious ringing in the ears of 
 some unwelcome sentence ; sounding there importunately 
 and uncalled for, like the tolling of a distant funeral bell 
 among merry marriage chimes. Even thus, her own words, 
 " Do not evil that good may come," kept echoing in the 
 mind of Isobel, and contradicting all her plausible con 
 victions to the contrary. At last, she spoke from that 
 unwilling text : 
 
 " I will not alas ! I fear I need not say what my human 
 heart would at once reply. But I dare not yield to any 
 earthly temptation the integrity of the faith I hold. I 
 know too well that I could not share your being, without 
 becoming imbued with your views. My soul would as 
 naturally assume the hue of yours, as the sea does that of 
 the skies above it. I would freely and joyfully give up my 
 life, my worldly happiness, and all the nothing that I have, 
 and that I am, to you ; but I have one higher, holier love 
 and purpose that must not be set aside. If you shared in 
 any way that love or purpose, however imperfectly or falter- 
 ingly, I would only too gladly and devotedly join my life 
 and my weak efforts to yours ; and we would try together 
 to work out of our darkness into brighter day. But as 
 long as you remain an open and confessed rebel to the 
 power that I hold supreme, to the hope that I cling to, 
 I dare not and cannot join with you." 
 
 "Then, Isobel, farewell!" said Alvaro, in a deep calm 
 voice. " You have broken the only tie that held me to< 
 the world and the world's conventionalities. I will not 
 ask you to think of me when I am gone, for that might 
 seem to you unduteous ; but I will even ask you to pray 
 for me, for then I know that I shall be remembered, with 
 out causing you any self-reproach. I will not upbraid you. 
 with your sternness: I have too much respect for even 
 such a sense of duty as I can feel. I will rather thank 
 you for the happy hours I have dreamed away under your 
 influence ; the remembrance of them will be my only cheer 
 through a life-long awaking from such dreams. Once more, 
 farewell ! there is no passion in my words, but they are 
 heartfelt ; a dreary calm .seems to settle on my soul as I 
 here solemnly bid adieu to my last, best hope." 
 
 That evening Alvaro informed Timvald that he was about 
 to abandon England, and had procured leave from the au- 
 
DAEIEtf. 295 
 
 thorities to do so. This "leave of absence" was then re 
 quired of all Englishmen, and Alvaro having been lately 
 denizened, came under its requirement. His friend learned 
 his determination without surprise. He knew that by visit 
 ing G-enoa and other places where he had had great invest 
 ments, Alvaro could easily recover large sums of money ; 
 and he was glad to observe in such a design a proof of 
 returning energy, which he feared had been prostrated. 
 But when the merchant added, that it was simply to travel 
 he intended, Tinwald felt inclined to reason and remon 
 strate against such a romantic purpose. He was deeply 
 attached to the noble-hearted Moresco ; and he thought 
 that it was lamentable to waste his great talents and ac 
 quirements in a mere pilgrim's tour, associated, as eastern 
 travel was, in his mind, only with Romish practices. But 
 Alvaro was fixed in his resolution, and Tinwald knew the 
 firmness of his character too well to attempt to shake his 
 purpose. 
 
 " It appears to be my destiny to wander," said Alvaro. 
 " Like my fabled ancestor, I have been driven from place 
 to place, across the world, finding no rest ; and, for the 
 future, seeking none. Now that I have proved to the 
 uttermost the emptiness of the life in which we live, I 
 would fain behold the scenes of that which is past, and, 
 if possible, glean from them some guide towards that 
 which is to corne. In the very cradle of my race, on the 
 banks of the Euphrates; in the land of their sojourn, 
 where the people that oppressed them seem to have lain 
 torpid ever since; by the waters of the Nile, and the 
 Jewish Rubicon, the Jordan, I shall wander for the years 
 to come. If I obtain no other benefit, the dangers and 
 the changing scenes and faces that will pass before me, 
 may at least divert the weary objectlessness in which my 
 spirit now, as it were, is drowned." 
 
 As he spoke thus, his friend began to think that it was 
 a true instinct which had led him to embrace his new reso 
 lution. He was profoundly unhappy, and evidently dis 
 turbed in his mind by other matters beside disappointed 
 love. His friend's orthodox reasonings had proved un 
 availing ; unless, indeed, that their seed was germinating 
 invisibly, and that this pilgrimage was the first tender 
 blade appearing. A mind like that of Alvaro could only 
 
296 DAEIEN. 
 
 by its own operation be successfully acted upon, as the 
 diamond can only be polished by its own dust. 
 
 Eor all these reasons, Tinwald sadly and in silence sub 
 mitted to the loss he was about to sustain in his gifted and 
 generous friend. Alvaro took his leave, but it was not 
 until the following day that Tinwald knew it had been a 
 final one. 
 
 Then, too, for the first time, Isobel learned that her 
 infidel yet faithful lover was lost to her and to all the 
 world beside. She grieved long and sadly, yet not bit 
 terly ; for bitterness is only to be found in self-accusation. 
 But as a widow, the poor maiden mourned for the loss of 
 him whom she might have rendered happy merely by con 
 sulting her own happiness. She did not regret the part 
 that she had chosen, but her cousin's household was thence 
 forth never cheered by her merry laugh, or soothed by her 
 pensive song. The silence and sadness of a desolate heart 
 had settled down upon her. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 For he, who in one unremitting chain 
 
 Of solemn purpose, solders link to link 
 
 Of active day and meditative night, 
 
 And with unquivering heart and hand can meet , 
 
 Ever distress, ever impediment, 
 
 And ring from out a world of checks and flaws 
 
 Some palpable and most perspicuous whole 
 
 Of realized design and change imprest, 
 
 Shall be enroll'd among heroic souls, 
 
 Though small the scope and slow the growth of deed. 
 
 MILNES, 
 
 YEAES have passed on, and Paterson has earnestly and 
 happily been employed in what were duties to him. He 
 laboured hard in his private vocation, and yet he still con 
 tinued to struggle with the wayward w r orld for power to 
 advance its interests, its civilization, and its glory. As, one 
 by one, his projects were unfolded in frank simplicity, 
 others, wiser in their generation, appropriated and narrowed 
 them to selfish purposes. In his hands, his schemes would 
 
DAEIEN. 297 
 
 have hourly enlarged and brought all men into communion 
 with them : in the hands of mere speculators not only the 
 object, but the very name of the originator was lost. The 
 Bank of England rose struggling through the obscurity in 
 which mean men and base imputations had enveloped it. 
 Paterson's had been the plan, but as the name of Amerigo 
 was preferred by envious mediocrity to Columbus, so Pater- 
 son's great idea was attributed to others, who traded upon 
 his thought, and whose agency only served to cramp its 
 development and depreciate its credit. 
 
 This worthy philosopher, however, bore patiently the 
 wrongs that were irremediable. He remonstrated, indeed, 
 firmly and manfully, against injustice ; but when he found 
 there was no law that could protect him, he turned away, 
 without one bitter word or angry thought, from 'Change 
 Alley to the bright western hemisphere, where he had 
 formed his first plans for converting the wilderness of 
 Darien into a highway for the world. 
 
 There was one man in London, a Scotchman, who had 
 been a faithful friend to him in all his adversities and dis 
 appointments. This was Andrew Fletcher, of Saltoun, a 
 man of a speculative and somewhat impracticable turn of 
 mind, but endued with the highest sense of honour and the 
 most inflexible integrity. It was well said of him, " that 
 he would die to serve his country, but he would not do a 
 base thing to save her." He was one of the representatives 
 of Scotland, and had offered a strenuous opposition to the 
 Romanizing views of James II. The tyranny of that most 
 unkingly sovereign had driven him to exile in Holland ; his 
 estate had been confiscated, and he had taken arms undei 
 the Duke of Lorraine in Hungary. When "William III. 
 restored the liberties of England, the exiled patriot returned 
 to London. There he found some favour at court, although 
 he was a zealous advocate for restraining the power of the 
 monarchy ; believing, as he said, that it is unsafe to trust 
 the best of princes with the power which an evil successor 
 may misuse. He repudiated all sectarian ties and service, 
 whether religious or political ; and presented in that age 
 the rare example of a nobly independent upright man. 
 
 Eletcher of Saltoun was, 'in 1694, about forty years of 
 age, small but symmetrical in stature, with a dark com 
 plexion and eyes full of the fire that burned steadily in his 
 
298 DAEIEtf. 
 
 visionary soul. His aspect was ordinarily severe, but when, 
 touched by softer feelings it presented an expression of 
 great sweetness and benignity. 
 
 One day when Paterson was sitting in his lodgings in 
 Cheapside, surrounded by maps and papers, covered with 
 abstruse calculations, Fletcher entered : with a solemn but 
 graceful reverence, he saluted his friend's wife and her pale 
 melancholy cousin, and then took his seat by the side of his 
 fellow-countryman, whose genius he alone then fully re 
 cognised. 
 
 "Paterson," he said, in his deep earnest tones, " I come 
 to you with advice of great moment. I understand from 
 you that you are about to propose the colonization of the 
 Isthmus of Darien to the English speculators, who are now 
 all madly running after any scheme that may enable them 
 to cheat and to be cheated. My friend, your project is 
 worthy of better instruments and of better success than 
 you are likely to find here. Have you forgotten that you. 
 owe a first filial duty to Scotland? Have you forgotten 
 that our countrymen are the most earnest, skilful, and 
 patient of all people, therefore the best and worthiest to 
 carry out your views ? Moreover, have you not already had 
 fatal experience of the jealousy that seeks to suppress every 
 honour due to a Scot ; and does not all this teach you 
 that in Edinburgh, and not in London, should be laid the 
 foundation stone of a plan that will give glory and pros 
 perity to its undertaker?" 
 
 The pale countenance of Paterson lighted up with plea 
 sure at this testimony from one who had at first coldly 
 received, and then taken a long time to consider of, his 
 plan. 
 
 "I waited only for such advice," he replied, "to act 
 upon it. But I would fain have had this scheme confined 
 to no narrow limits ; I would that all nations could share 
 in the honour and the interest of the undertaking. Ex 
 perience, however, has taught me that the world is not yet 
 sufficiently advanced in liberality and tolerance to permit 
 success to a mere company ; it must be sanctioned by the 
 king. Spain will oppose us to the utmost ; England must 
 defend us against that jealous power." 
 
 Fletcher's brow darkened as he replied, "And would 
 you trust your plan, born of Scottish brains, and only 
 
DAKIEX. 299 
 
 to be carried out by Scottish hands and hearts, to the 
 great enemy of our country the murderer of Grlencoe 
 the suppressor of our commerce the jealous foe of our 
 nationality ? " 
 
 " I would accept assistance, in a good cause, from the 
 devil himself," replied Paterson, " provided that by any 
 mistake he undertook it. I understand that the king is by 
 no means hostile to our project. I am surprised to hear 
 you speak so harshly of a sovereign for whom you have 
 clone and suffered so much." 
 
 " Hum ! yes ; I have done and suffered somewhat for 
 "William of Nassau. I have been exiled for the best years 
 of my life have been deserted by my friends and ruined 
 by my foes. But, my friend, even this king is only the 
 better of two kingly evils. Nothing will do, no authority, 
 but that of the people, will ever justly govern the people. 
 These kings govern not for the sake of the governed, but 
 for the sake of themselves, or some of their own family, or of 
 some crotchet in their own minds, to which everything else 
 must be sacrificed. Stuart or Dutchman there is but 
 little difference : the master-thought of the one was papacy ; 
 that of the other, was Holland and its accursed wars. 
 Quicquid delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi. Democracy 
 alone a simple, all-controlling, and all-controlled demo 
 cracy is the only form of government for free men to live 
 under." 
 
 " It is well enough," replied Paterson, " so far as decla 
 mation, to listen to, or in printed books to read : but the 
 actual, though subtle and mysterious, realities of life, are 
 not so easily to be dealt with ; especially in this greatest 
 and most important question. The old form of kingship, 
 best imitation of a patriarchal power, extended over patri 
 archs and their families in the infant stages of the social 
 world: it remains, after all experience, best adapted to 
 man, so long as his vices and consequent infirmities retain 
 him in an infant state. Look at your greatest and wisest 
 peoples, moved, like little children, by a fit of passion ; 
 breaking one moment the human toys that they delighted 
 in but yesterday. Look at the De Witts, torn in pieces by 
 the fat* Dutch hands that dully clapped applause of every 
 action of their statesman a few hours before. No, my friend ! 
 Your democracy, as some one said of it long ago, is as su- 
 
300 BABIED 
 
 perior to monarchy as a sundial is to a clock ; but the sun 
 must always sliine I Whenever the period shall arrive which 
 good men and wise have hoped to see; when popular impulse, 
 the character of youth, is merged in public opinion, the 
 character of age ; then welcome be democracy, universal 
 suffrage, vote by ballot all that the most unbounded 
 desire can claim from unrestrained indulgence ! It is not 
 the king, but the kingship, that I would stand by, and with 
 my last breath defend." 
 
 " Be it so," said Fletcher, waiving the subject, on which 
 he did not think Paterson well qualified to speak ; " we will 
 now only speak of politics as they effect your plans. Away 
 to Scotland with you, and there bring out your project. 
 Very jealousy will make these Southrons take an interest 
 in it then ; they will hasten to rival our poor countrymen 
 in their subscriptions ; and, having done so, will make an 
 interest at court (which a Scotchman never could effect) 
 for the protection of the scheme." 
 
 Paterson at once yielded to the force of these arguments, 
 even before he saw the eyes of his patient wife brighten at 
 the thoughts of revisiting her native land. After some 
 further discussion, Paterson left the room to keep an ap 
 pointment, and to prosecute arrangements consequent on 
 this new plan. Alice withdrew, as if by accident, at the 
 same time, and Fletcher was left alone with her cousin. 
 
 Isobel was still beautiful, but long and anxious thought 
 had given greater depth and some sadness to her eyes, and 
 her cheek had become pale, as of those who keep long vigils. 
 She had become almost ascetic in self- discipline. The 
 natural tendency of woman's heart is to love that to which 
 it makes the greatest sacrifices. Hence even in human 
 relationship, mothers love best the son, wives the husband, 
 who has given them most cause for anxiety : as if they were 
 unconsciously grateful for the causes of that self-abne 
 gation which so much and so often ennobles woman : 
 still more in the higher feelings in matters relating to the 
 soul. Isobel clung the more fondly and devoutly to the 
 faith for the sake of which she had flung away her earthly 
 happiness. Had she been more favourably situated, she 
 would probably (as so many have done before or since her 
 poor heart had its trial) have betaken herself to works of 
 mercy and charity, in order to occupy her excited mind. 
 
DABIEtf. 301 
 
 But, immured in the narrow precincts of her city home, she 
 was obliged to turn inward for an occupation ; and, like the 
 victims of convents, she strove, by physical privation, to 
 deaden or divert her mental misery. In vain her sister 
 affectionately sought to console her ; she hugged her grief 
 to her heart, and " would not be comforted." Alice, herself 
 happy in her union with Paterson, thought that marriage 
 would win her cousin from her romantic sorrow. She had 
 long considered Alvaro as lost to Isobel, and had of late 
 gladly observed the deep interest which Fletcher seemed to 
 take in her cousin's society. To Alice, Alvaro was merely 
 a handsome, generous, and accomplished man, the friend of 
 her husband. He was gone, and there was an end of him, as 
 she supposed. No one, not even our nearest and dearest 
 friend, ever exchanges his or her views of those we love for 
 ours. 
 
 The imaginative but stern nature of Fletcher felt a strong 
 sympathy with his fair countrywoman's character. The 
 nature of her trial was well known to him, and while he 
 almost deplored her constancy, he loved her the better for 
 it. He, too, was a lonely, sorrow-stricken man. Might 
 not two such negatives make an affirmative ? He had often 
 hinted this question to Isobel, but his purpose seemed so 
 incomprehensible to her, that hints were of no avail. He 
 now determined to speak boldly. Alice had probably di 
 vined his intention, and therefore she had afforded him the 
 opportunity he sought. He was alone with the maiden 
 widow. 
 
 After a long pause, he observed to her that she did not 
 seem pleased with the thought of leaving London. She re 
 plied, that " all places were the same to her, except for one 
 reason ; she heard more news in London, and that amused 
 her." In fact, she was like those who have lost dear relatives 
 at sea, and who love to soothe their sorrow by sitting on the 
 shore and watching the waves as they come and go ; in 
 some dreamy expectation that somehow they may bring 
 tidings of those who have gone down among their fellows. 
 Such was the news that Isobel watched for by the ebb and 
 flow of life's great stream in London. 
 
 " Why, then, should she not remain in London, and make 
 happy the home of a faithful, loving friend ? " asked 
 "Fletcher, with an almost faltering voice. Isobel looked up 
 
302 DAEIEN. 
 
 in surprise, and only read the meaning of the question in 
 his ardent eyes. She replied with a grave, sorrowful, 
 reproachful look, and left him alone to his own reflections. 
 That same evening, he set out for Edinburgh, where he 
 explained the Darien project to Lord Stair with such elo 
 quence and force, that Paterson was welcomed hy the 
 Scottish minister immediately on his arrival ; and the fame 
 of him was rapidly diffused over the fair city of Edinburgh. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 Grim reader ! did you ever see a ghost ? 
 
 No but you've heard ; I understand. Be dumb, 
 And don't regret the time you may have lost ; 
 
 For you have got that pleasure yet to come. 
 I say I do believe a haunted spot 
 
 Exists BYKON. 
 
 THE maternal kin of Alice Paterson began to relax in their 
 indignation towards her dead mother, as soon as her mar 
 riage to the Laird of Tinwald was made known. But when 
 her husband became famous, their forgiveness of the orphan 
 assumed the warm hues of affection. Isobel, too, became 
 an object of interest, and of several addresses from kinsfolk 
 whose names she scarcely knew. She felt more indifferent 
 on this subject, because she thought that she would soon 
 be beyond the reach of earthly ties, and she looked forward 
 to that time with almost unmingled pleasure. As soon, 
 however, as she found herself \vith Alice once more at sea, 
 on their way to Edinburgh, her health and strength revived, 
 and she began even to cherish some faint earthly hopes. 
 
 No sooner was Paterson landed in Scotland, than his 
 countrymen of all ranks began to crowd about him, eager 
 to offer (and accept) any service. Among them came the 
 Laird of Torwoodlee, to claim kinship with Dame Paterson 
 and her bonnie cousin. In one of the many vicissitudes 
 that befall ancient families, he had become involved in con 
 siderable difficulties ; and he hoped in the golden scheme of 
 Darien to profit by the relationship with Alice, which he 
 had formerly ignored. With him came his son, a frank, 
 
DAEIEN. 303 
 
 kind-hearted, manly lad, whose highest ambition was to join 
 the expedition that already filled the minds of all Scotland 
 with vague, unbounded hope. The father and son, on find 
 ing that nothing could be done in this matter immediately, 
 returned home, accompanied by Isobel, who longed once 
 more to see the hills of the " Forestshire," and to hear 
 Tweed's waters flow. 
 
 As she rode along the wild and picturesque banks of Grala 
 "Water, accompanied by young Torwoodlee, she listened with 
 delight to the legends that linger round that haunted stream. 
 As her blue eyes were fixed in deep interest on the narrator, 
 he soon began to feel their subtle though unconscious power. 
 The romantic adventures she had undergone ; the pensive 
 sorrow that seemed to have had its source in regions far 
 away ; her singular beauty and sweet, mellow voice, soon 
 penetrated the young Scot's warm heart. Gradually he 
 prevailed on her to speak of the distant lands that she had 
 seen ; and as they were brightly pictured to him in her 
 words, he longed still more for the hour that should find 
 him on his ocean way thither, in search of the wealth and 
 fame that might render him less diffident in such a presence 
 as that of Isobel. 
 
 "When at length the travellers crossed the winding Grala 
 for the last time, and turned into the fair woodlands of 
 Torwoodlee, Isobel, with a smile, hoped that all the spirit- 
 world was not left behind on the mountain ; and that she 
 should find some at the antique house that now appeared 
 in view. The old laird turned away his head, affecting not 
 to hear her ; and soon afterwards pushed on his horse, as 
 he said, to announce her coming. 
 
 " My father," said the young laird, " does na like to spak' 
 o' sic things ; the last he saw o' my puir brother was his 
 wraith, moving along just there, beneath the trees that 
 shade the bowlin' green." 
 
 Isobel shuddered, as if she had invoked a spirit which 
 had suddenly appeared ; but her companion continued his 
 story in a low sad voice. 
 
 " My puir brother, only a year older than me, went to sea 
 twa year ago ; and when he was expectit back, my father 
 filled the auld house wi' kinsfolk to gie him welcome. One 
 evening (it was as fine and calni as it is now), after supper, 
 my father was going to his ain room (the window is up 
 
304 DAEIEN. 
 
 there, overlooking us), when he thought he heard the 
 sound of a horse's feet. He looked out, and saw a tall, 
 white flame running alang where we are riding now, and it 
 crossed yon bowling green, and disappeared under my 
 father's window. He didna like to tell o't, and he went 
 down stairs, and out upon the green, and there he saw the 
 same apparition ; and it seemed to come frae the far end o' 
 the avenue, and run up to him all at once, and hover round 
 his feet, and then it disappeared. Again, when he was going 
 to bed, my father kneeled down as usual to pray for his 
 absent son ; and once mair he saw that white light rinnin' 
 alang, and it came hoverin' in through the window and dis 
 appeared on the hearthstane, and then my father ken'd that 
 his poor son was dead : soon afterwards came up upon the 
 night air the storm that had wrecked my brother far awa', 
 and its fury will be long remembered, both on land and 
 sea."* 
 
 The young laird repeated this tale with an air of perfect 
 reliance on its truth, and Isobel soon learned that she was 
 entering a house in which supernatural agencies were almost 
 too common to be remarked upon. But in the kind welcome 
 which she received at Torwoodlee, and in the deep but in 
 definable delight of returning health, she forgot all her 
 fears. She soon learned to occupy herself by taking a share 
 in the household concerns, which still further tended to 
 restore her natural cheerfulness. Young Torwoodlee was 
 daily more attracted towards her; but he felt like the 
 mariner in the fairy tale, as if he were always approaching 
 the island which he could never reach. 
 
 For time, as it stole on, obliterated no single recollection 
 of Alvaro from her mind. She followed him in imagination 
 not only on the sea, over the desert, through strange mina- 
 retted cities ; but in the arguments that she thought he held 
 with his own heart. And thus, being daily in his company, 
 as it were, she did not feel that he was so "very distant. She 
 
 * This legend may now be heard from the lips of a remarkable old 
 woman, who is a sort of hereditary fixture to the ruins of the old house 
 in which her father and grandfather (who heard this tale from the old 
 laird himself) lived before her. There are some picturesque remains 
 of this old house, once famed for hospitality, a character which suffers 
 no diminution in the new house, under the auspices of its present pos 
 sessor. 
 
DABIEtf. 
 
 would scarcely have been surprised to see him at any time; 
 though she sometimes shuddered as she looked along the 
 shadowy avenue, and thought of the pale flame that so 
 recently was seen to move along it, as if upon a solemn 
 mission from the other world. 
 
 Paterson had now been for some time settled in Edin 
 burgh ; and his project had been published and dilated upon, 
 with all the eloquence of an ardent imagination, inspired by 
 a lofty purpose. 
 
 It was an age of speculation and daring enterprise. A 
 commercial spirit was just then beginning to stir in Scot 
 land. Men's minds were groping about among dark theories 
 for something palpable ; and they seized upon the magnifi 
 cent scheme of Paterson with avidity. His modest lodging 
 became at once the centre of attraction. From the earliest 
 dawn till midnight, men of all creeds, politics, and ranks of 
 life besieged his room, where, surrounded by maps and plans, 
 the earnest speculator imparted and distributed his own 
 hopes to all ; and expatiated on their foundation until they 
 expanded into conviction in his hearers' hearts. The wil 
 derness of Darien became as familiar to the Scottish ima 
 gination as the Lothians. The produce, natural and pos 
 sible, of the far-off American soil, its trees, its hills, its 
 mines, its waters, were the common and constant theme 
 of discussion. Old puritanical ministers, young scape 
 graces of dissipation, sages, subtle politicians, and even 
 women, were alike possessed with the same subject. The 
 very gaberlunzie could tell that " Darien lies between the 
 golden regions of Mexico and Peru ; it is within six weeks' 
 sail of Europe, India, and China; it is in the heart of the 
 West Indies, close to the rising colonies of North America. 
 The expense and danger of navigation to Japan, the Spice 
 Islands, and all the Eastern world, will be lessened one-half, 
 the consumption of European commodities and manufac 
 tures will soon be doubled. Trade will increase trade; 
 money will beget money ; and the trading world will need 
 no more to want work for its hands, but hands for its 
 work." 
 
 Thus the whole mass of society became suddenly leavened 
 with the leaven of one active and imaginative mind. To 
 eager listeners, Paterson would describe what he himself 
 had heard and seen : and his words, repeated, grew into such 
 
 TT 
 
306 PAEIEtf. 
 
 shape as follows, most of which may still be read in the old 
 pamphlets of that day : 
 
 " Darien possesseth great tracts of country as yet un 
 claimed by any European. The Indians, original proprie 
 tors of the soil, will welcome to their fertile shores the 
 honest, honourable settler. Their soil is rich to a fault, pro 
 ducing spontaneously the most delicious fruits, and requir 
 ing the hand of labour to chasten rather than to stimulate 
 its capabilities. There, crystal rivers sparkle over sands of 
 gold ; there, the traveller may wander for days under a 
 natural canopy formed by the fruit-laden branches of trees, 
 whose wood is of inestimable value. The very waters 
 abound in wealth. Innumerable shoals of fish disport them 
 selves among coral rocks, and the bottom of the sea is strewn 
 with pearls. From the first dawn of creation, this enchanted 
 land had lain secluded from mortal eyes ; to the present 
 generation, to Scottish enterprise, it was now revealed. 
 Let us enter and take possession of the promised land. 
 There a new city, a new Edinburgh, shall arise ; the Alex 
 andria of old, which, seated on a barren isthmus, grew 
 suddenly into prodigious wealth and power by the mere 
 commerce of Arabia and Ind, shall soon yield in fame to 
 the new emporium of the world." 
 
 Such were the rumours that spread abroad rapidly among 
 the people of Scotland. Wafer, the great traveller, and a 
 disinterested authority, gave them his support. Nor was 
 the enthusiasm bounded by the Tweed the glories of the 
 future colonies were soon familiar in the mouths and ears 
 of England. London speedily caught up the infection. 
 Even the cold and cautious ear of "William the Third was 
 won by the great scheme, and in an evil hour for Scotland 
 he gave it his assent. 
 
 Paterson then passed on to Hamburgh, in which great 
 mart, and among the friendly citizens of which his first ideas 
 of commerce had expanded. Hamburgh caught the flame of 
 his enthusiasm. In a few days the projector was so over 
 whelmed with applications for shares that he was fain to re 
 turn to Edinburgh, lest his own country should be supplanted 
 by foreign capitalists. Eame and fortune rolled in upon him 
 with a sudden tide like that of his own Solway. He had 
 already conjured up by his own words sufficient wealth and 
 forces to carry out his schemes upon the grandest scale. 
 
DAKIEN. 307 
 
 His name was in every mouth ; his slightest expressions 
 were quoted as oracles. The Scottish Parliament was as 
 sembled to consider, and of course to approve, his scheme. 
 
 Then it was that he gave the noble instance of disinter 
 estedness which alone might immortalize his name. In the 
 original project he had claimed the modest remuneration of 
 two per cent, on such money as should be subscribed ; and 
 this was in consideration of the great outlay of capital as 
 well as devotion of his time, which maturing the project 
 had required. He now made a simple and unconditional 
 release of all his claims upon the fund.* 
 
 So far all went well. The subscription lists were full and 
 closed. Scotland had contributed 400,000, half of all the 
 circulating capital in the country ; England added 300,000, 
 Hamburgh and Holland made up 200,000 more. "With 
 this vast sum, considering the time, Paterson and his asso 
 ciates went to work with energy ; drawing freely on. their 
 supposed capital for the equipment of the first expedition 
 on a scale commensurate with its importance. Its proposed 
 magnitude surprised even the London merchants. A panic 
 suddenly seized the East India Company. f They remon 
 strated by petition to the king. The English parliament 
 then met, and the Darien scheme was too popular a subject 
 not to be made a matter of eager debate. The feeling of 
 the parliament was hostile. It even impeached some of its 
 members for joining in a scheme " so injurious to English 
 commerce." The king saw fit to yield to the altered tone 
 of public feeling ; he actually made a sort of apology for 
 the encouragement he had bestowed upon the scheme ; he 
 
 * " It was not suspicion," thus his renunciation runs, " of the justice 
 or gratitude of the company ; nor a consciousness that my services 
 could ever become useless to them, but the ingratitude of some indi 
 viduals, which made it common prudence on my part to ask a retribu 
 tion for six years' time and ten thousand pounds spent in establishing 
 the company. But now I see it standing on the authority of Parlia 
 ment, and supported by so many great and good men, I release all 
 claim to that retribution ; happy in the noble concession made to me, 
 but happier in the return I can now make for it." 
 
 t The East Indies (to be traded with from the opposite side of the 
 isthmus) had been unhappily inserted in the charter to Paterson's 
 company, as being within the limits of their power to trade ; and, in 
 order to give themselves as wide a scope as possible, "Africa" had 
 been also added. 
 
 u 2 
 
308 DAEIEN. 
 
 confessed " that he had been ill-advised in Scotland," and 
 he at once revoked all his favourable dispositions toward 
 the company. The English subscriptions were withdrawn, 
 and under a threat of England's displeasure, Hamburgh 
 and Holland, after some squabbling (and deprecating any 
 fear of England as their motive for doing so), likewise with 
 drew. 
 
 Scotland was then left to conduct her enterprise single- 
 handed, only guarded by such privileges to the company as 
 the king had not ventured to retract. Ear more merciful 
 would it have been to have suppressed it utterly, than first 
 have allowed the expedition to take place, and then cruelly 
 have consigned its volunteers to destruction ! 
 
 But in the same proportion that the English resources 
 and prospects With respect to the Darien scheme were fail 
 ing, the hopes and enthusiasm of the Scots grew strong. It 
 was evident that the jealousy and the fears of great England 
 were aroused : what more certain than that there was cause 
 for their envy ? The ministers, always a weighty and in 
 fluential body in the north, preached on the falling off, and 
 compared it to the recreancy of the Israelites, who lingered 
 and hung back to lap the stream, "while Joshua pressed for 
 ward with his true conquerors. 
 
 Among the first who were attracted by the glare of this 
 new project was John Law, of whom we have obtained a 
 glimpse in the earlier pages of this history. His name was 
 now well known in most of the capitals of Europe as a most 
 daring and successful gambler, a profession not then 
 branded with the infamy which in later days has consigned 
 to it the rank next to robbery. Graining was almost uni 
 versally practised by all classes of life ; monarchs set the 
 example ; and there was even a court-mourning game pic- 
 quet which might be played in the chambers of death 
 without breach of decorum, at least such decorum as was 
 practised in the court of Louis XV. Ombre, basset, and 
 faro were looked upon as so many drawing-room sciences, 
 in which it was necessary for every aspirant to society to 
 have taken his degree. Gaming was as full of adventure, 
 indirectly, as of pecuniary vicissitudes. Dangerous assist 
 ance rendered at a critical moment ; trust bestowed with a 
 liberal confidence; the bitterest sacrifices submitted to, in 
 order to save credit ; hasty words answered at the point of 
 
DAEIEN. 309 
 
 the sword ; imputed stains washed out in blood. The 
 " Board of Green Cloth " was an arena for all the passions 
 to expatiate in ; it conferred its own peculiar fame ; it had 
 its own Napoleons, Machiavellis, and Tlmrtells ; ail casual 
 ties, and all human results might be found there except 
 peace and honour. 
 
 John Law was the Napoleon of the gambling world. His 
 fortune never finally forsook him until it had culminated in the 
 Mississippi scheme, and brought princes and their minions 
 to his feet. He had had his temporary reverses in the early 
 part of his career, however, and had sold his patrimony of 
 Lauriston on his father's death ; but his mother had con 
 trived to purchase it, and kept it in the family ; even while, 
 with the proceeds of its sale, Law was amassing a consider 
 able fortune. 
 
 Paterson's scheme of the Bank of England had turned in. 
 that direction the attention of his enterprising young kins 
 man, who, amidst all his dissipations, had found time to 
 study deeply financial mysteries at Paris and Amsterdam. 
 The Darien scheme, too, riveted his attention, though he 
 happened to be at that time in exile for the death of a 
 "friend," named Wilson; whom he had unintentionally 
 killed in a duel in Lincoln's Inn Fields. 
 
 During Paterson's visit to Hamburgh, Law assisted in 
 spreading his doctrines, but when England withdrew from 
 the undertaking he seems also to have abandoned it. He 
 gave credit to the foresight of the cold, clear-headed monarch. 
 He saw that unless William was prepared to enter on a war 
 with Spain, he could not countenance a trespass on a 
 country to which she advanced a claim, however ridiculous 
 in its foundation. Therefore, while Law cursed for his 
 country's and his friend's sake the permission at first freely 
 
 fiven to the Darien scheme, and then cruelly withdrawn, 
 e thought he saw in that withdrawal a proof of the king's 
 future policy towards Spain ; and he contented himself with 
 speculating on the result of that policy. In Edinburgh, 
 his secession was contemptuously spoken of. " What did it 
 signify," they said, " on what side ' Jessamy John ' staked 
 his card?" But those who had observed John's depth of 
 penetration argued differently. 
 
 The hope and faith of the Scottish people soared all the 
 higher for the desertion of their allies. The preparations 
 
310 
 
 for the expedition were pressed forward. Diminished by 
 more than half as were their resources, the equipment lost 
 nothing of its pretensions. The consequence was, that five 
 ships sailed with a stinted and miserable provision, scarcely 
 sufficient to have carried them in comfort on a cruising 
 voyage among Christian lands ; much less across the wide 
 Atlantic, through hostile regions, along savage shores. 
 
 But the hopes of Paterson and the enthusiasm of his 
 followers were not to be depressed. The chivalry of Scot 
 land was aroused, and hundreds of men of high family ex 
 changed their prospects in their own country for the golden 
 hopes of America, with all its doubts and dangers. The 
 chief difficulty experienced by the company was the selec 
 tion from such a number of volunteers ; unfortunately, in 
 many instances interest prevailed, and obtained the promo 
 tion of some undisciplined scapegrace, to the exclusion of 
 the hard-working, earnest man, who might have done far 
 better service. The same fault pervaded other departments 
 of the expedition. The great mind of Paterson could not 
 inspire all the council to whom the affair was confided with 
 his own single-heartedness and integrity. Almost every 
 one of its members sought to make a profit out of his office. 
 The ships themselves, the provisions, the arms, everything 
 that was bought with a price, were all contracted for in a 
 manner which enriched the patrons, but was rued by many 
 a brave emigrant doomed to perish in their service. 
 
 In all immature and half-civilised communities there is a 
 strong tendency to job ; and at the prospect of this great 
 opportunity, the Scots rushed on its perquisites like vultures 
 on a prey, like them, to batten on corruption. Some 
 wanted to provide for themselves, others for" a relation, or 
 to^et him out of the way. Many a one on his own account 
 wished to leave Scotland, and sought only a free passage 
 from a dangerous home. Hence the members of the expe 
 dition were as ill-fitted for their purpose as the ships them 
 selves. 
 
 The difficulty of collecting the subscriptions was great, 
 notwithstanding the enthusiasm of the subscribers. It was- 
 a period of severe scarcity, moreover, and provisions were 
 enormously dear ; hence the temptation to adulterate them 
 was greater than usual, and it was extensively done. Scot 
 land was dishonoured by the promoters of her first and last 
 
BABIED. 311 
 
 attempt to found a colony ; "William III. did not do more 
 to cause the ruin of the expedition than these earnest yet 
 dishonourable men. 
 
 At length the expedition was pronounced ready to set 
 sail. The rotten ships, gaily painted and bedecked with 
 flaunting flags, were filled with rotten provisions, most care 
 fully made up in order to conceal the imposture. Certain 
 bales of goods and merchandise, also of a very inferior de 
 scription, were placed in the ships, in order to trafiic with 
 the natives of the Land of Promise as well as with the Chris 
 tian inhabitants of the West Indian Islands, for provisions. 
 With these goods invoices were sent, fixing exorbitant value 
 upon every article. 
 
 To crown all, these ill-fated ships were commanded by 
 coarse, brutal, and ignorant captains, jealous of and hostile 
 to one another. The " Council " which accompanied them, 
 had no superior, no decisive authority. There was no chief, 
 and every one aspired to command ; the ingenuity of man 
 could not have devised a plan more evidently anarchical. 
 Paterson had been allowed no voice in any of the proposed 
 arrangements ; through jealousy, he had not even been 
 named as one of the Council. He entered his ship as igno 
 rant of her equipment as any seaman on board. He pro 
 posed, indeed, even then, to hold an inspection of the stores 
 before the ships weighed anchor, but this was angrily for 
 bidden, for reasons which are not difficult to divine. 
 
 At Torwoodlee, as in many other houses throughout 
 Scotland, the preparations for the expedition were w r atched 
 with all-absorbing interest. At length young Pringle re 
 ceived notice that the ships were to sail in a few days, and 
 he prepared to join them. His father (so great was the 
 enthusiasm about the cause) did not remonstrate against 
 his purpose. Hope, amounting almost to certainty, filled 
 every heart in Scotland ; even patriotism lent its counten 
 ance to a scheme that was to bestow sudden greatness on 
 the country that gave it bir.th. The young laird would, 
 therefore, have left his home with a light heart if he could 
 have obtained any hope from Isobel of the dearest future 
 reward that he ever dreamed of. But for this he could not 
 even ask ; his fair kinswoman was too ill to see him. At 
 the very time when she was most anxious to repair to Edin 
 burgh to join Alice, she had been seized with sickness which 
 
312 DAEIEN. 
 
 threatened her very existence until long after the expedition 
 had set sail. 
 
 It was a satisfaction to young Torwoodlee, however, to 
 find himself destined to sail in the same ship with Alice, 
 and he attached himself to Paterson with a fidelity that re 
 mained unshaken to the last. 
 
 There was one other person in the whole expedition upon 
 whom Paterson could entirely rely. His faithful wife was 
 with him ; still hopeful, gentle, uncomplaining, fearless. 
 She entirely believed in her husband's mission ; and, with 
 many other enthusiasts, considered that it little signified 
 how imperfect were the preparations, so certain and so 
 speedy must be the success of the expedition. One only 
 sorrow or regret was weighing on her mind, that of sepa 
 rating, under such circumstances, from Isobel, who would 
 fain have been allowed to embark with the rest, even if she 
 was to breathe her last sighs among the emigrants. But the 
 chiefs were scrupulous in every matter out of which no 
 profit could be made, and they would not admit one sickly 
 person to the ships. 
 
 Young Torwoodlee was accompanied to the sea-shore by 
 his father, who almost envied the youth his honourable hope 
 of being able to win from the wildernesses of the west, suf 
 ficient wealth to redeem the acres of Torwoodlee from their 
 burdens of debt. 
 
 There were not a few such aspirants about to sail in 
 those fated ships ; no less than three hundred, it is said, of 
 the best blood in Scotland were among the emigrants. With 
 them, went many of their servants and husbandmen ; de 
 termined, with clansman loyalty, to follow the fortunes of 
 their young masters for good or ill, whithersoever they 
 they might lead. These poor fellows also left behind them 
 all their household ties, for the heart of Scotland, high 
 and low, went with the Darien Expedition. 
 
BABIES. 313 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The distant coronach I hear, 
 
 And a moan across the wave ; 
 When the bark sweeps forth, and song and cheer 
 
 Salute the parting brave. 
 
 LANDON. 
 
 THE 26th of July, 1698, was a memorable day for Scotland. 
 The morning dawned brightly ; the sea and sky smiled under 
 the sunshine ; soft breezes spread the banner of St. Andrew 
 wide ; and the various flags of the Darien ships fluttered 
 seaward, as if impatiently. 
 
 "Who can describe the conflict of solemn hopes and mys 
 terious fears that filled the hearts of the assembled multi 
 tude the parents, brothers, sisters, lovers, who darkened 
 the Scottish shore, who gathered round the gallant band 
 about to embark on an expedition as full of danger as of 
 glory ! 
 
 There is no departure so impressive as that by sea. Those 
 whose hands we have but now grasped fervently in our, 
 those whose last faltering words are still in our ear, are 
 now with us now fading away in distance ; gradually be 
 coming invisible absorbed into the sea and sky gone, like 
 those who die; except that even the very form we have 
 long loved for the sake of the spirit within, is likewise 
 .gone. 
 
 The hour of embarkation is now arrived. There is every 
 where a stir and restlessness throughout the Darien fleet, 
 their crews, their friends ; the very waves seem to sympa 
 thise in the agitation, tossing up their bitter spray against 
 those who crowd to the water's edge; the breezes sigh 
 through the shrouds of the ships like airy voices, summon 
 ing them away. 
 
 At length the last farewells are spoken. Paterson is the 
 first to enter the first boat ; then, as each name is called, his 
 comrades leap from their native shore on board, with a 
 brave air. The guards are busy in keeping off the crowds 
 who seek to share the fate of the expedition ; hundreds of 
 rejected soldiers and sailors cling to the hope that at last 
 they yet may be taken. Now the last boat shoves off with 
 
314 DABIEtf. 
 
 a hearty cheer, broken by sobs, and prayers uttered aloud, 
 which man as well as G-od may hoar. Then the separation 
 is complete. Though the ships are near the shore, and the 
 forms of those on board may be perceived, none can be 
 distinctly traced : if one waves a handkerchief, a thousand 
 tear-fraught eyes hail it as a parting signal from their own 
 Johnnie or their dear Sandy. The sailors now cluster on 
 the yards and rigging. The sails are spread. The wild but 
 solemn strains, with which seamen chime to the tramp 
 around the capstan as they heave the anchor, peals along 
 the waves. The ships turn slowly from the shore ; they 
 recede into the Erith. Slowly they pass away into the 
 open sea beyond ; and not until the last speck that be 
 tokened a ship full of friends and hopes and fears had 
 vanished, did the anxious crowd retire from the shore. 
 
 A sleepless night is said to have followed that trying day 
 in Edinburgh ; and it was only by degrees that the people 
 subsided from the excitement of the departing expedition 
 into their ordinary labours of head and hand. Still more 
 slowly did this wide gap the aching void left in so many 
 families begin to close. Mothers yearned for their sons, 
 maidens for their lovers ; fathers and brothers mourned, 
 too, after their fashion ; but the earnest business of life 
 brushed aside from them the sorrow that preyed upon her 
 who could only knit or spin or sew. Autumn was now 
 come, and harvest approached, with all its cares ; and the 
 foliage faded, or rather brightened into varied hues : many 
 a free step was missed that August upon the heather, where 
 the muir-fowl crowed in security, since the young laird or 
 chieftain was " over the hills and far awa'. " 
 
 The manor-house of Torwoodlee seemed lonely then. 
 Its young chieftain had been its pride, and hope, and very 
 life: the father knew not, until his son was fairly gone, 
 how much of his heart had gone away with him. Isobel, 
 as she slowly recovered from her illness, could 
 
 " See the white sorrow steal over his hair : " * 
 
 but the laird was always kind to his guest, for the love that 
 his beloved son had borne her, as well as for his own. 
 
 * This expression occurs in an Irish poem said to be a thousand 
 years old : it was translated in the able " Dublin University Maga 
 zine." 
 
DAEIEK. 315 
 
 Meanwhile the ships pursued their course towards Darien 
 with favouring gales. The spirits of the emigrants rose as 
 they advanced. Paterson continued to discourse with his 
 singular eloquence on the glorious .prospects that awaited 
 them. There were hopes for every one. The highlanders 
 listened with delight to the accounts of Spanish settle 
 ments which might prove hostile; and thus might afford 
 excuse for gallant raids in which golden booty might he 
 " lifted," instead of the lean cattle that formed the spoil of 
 Gaelic forays. Missionaries heard of docile Indians, who 
 hated Papistry because their Spanish oppressors held that 
 faith. Husbandmen dwelt with delight on the subject of the 
 soil ; the rich, deep virgin loam that gave double harvests in 
 each year, without manure ; of the prickly pine-apple hedges, 
 that were to yield delicious fruits, as well as form impass 
 able hedges. The young sportsmen longed for the forest, 
 where they could pursue the peccary and tapir under the 
 shade of wide-branching trees, beneath whose high arcades 
 horses could gallop for miles without an obstacle ; and of 
 the deep streams swarming with large fish, and of the turtle 
 and sea-cow, abounding in the estuaries. The more daring 
 and aspiring rejoiced in the stories of the buccaneers, 
 in the romantic accounts of banks of pearl-oysters, guarded 
 by the demoniac cat-fish and the cruel remora. The avari 
 cious dreamed of the bright rivers with golden sands of 
 the emeralds and sapphires ; and of the mysterious island 
 beyond the isthmus, where gold lay massed in lumps within 
 the rocks, and in flakes without ; and whose marvellous 
 wealth had been hitherto preserved by the fierce serpents 
 and other reptiles that abounded in its dense jungle. All 
 these trifling obstacles would soon give way before Scottish 
 ardour, and bill-hooks and flames ! 
 
 Time passed full swiftly in the indulgence of such vi 
 sions ; and when the ships entered into the latitude of the 
 trade winds, and sped along with unchanging sails for week 
 after week, the sailors became joyous and frolicsome in 
 their idleness. Thus, in high hope and spirits, the adven 
 turers traversed the Atlantic with favouring breezes ; and 
 on the 30th of October they came in sight of the New 
 World. A wide and vague extent of islands, and bold 
 cliffs, and swampy shores, was there ; along these the 
 mariners groped their way cautiously, until, on the 1st of 
 November, they came in sight of the long-desired Golden 
 
316 DAEIEN. 
 
 Island. Gloriously beautiful it seemed to the delighted 
 eyes of the emigrants, with its rich foliage and graceful 
 undulations of bright green sward, and lofty trees bending 
 over the calm crystalline sea, in which their abounding 
 fruit and plumy foliage was reflected. The isle was only 
 three miles in circumference, but it stood forth like a 
 beautiful specimen of the vast regions that lay beyond. 
 All that was visible seemed as fair the same wild lux 
 uriance of vegetation; the same promise of fertility; the 
 same loveliness of feature, to which the distant mountains 
 gave deeper interest in Scottish eyes. 
 
 "When "Land!" had first been announced, a trium 
 phant shout hailed the scenes of their future destiny. 
 Paterson heard in that cheering sound the voice of a far 
 different destiny from that which his companions pictured 
 to themselves. Before him, at the mouth of the harbour, 
 lay the Golden Island ; wdthin, among the forests, gleamed 
 the Golden Biver; high up, in the mountains, his eye 
 could trace where lay the Golden Mines of Cana. But 
 it was not of gold he then thought far nobler visions 
 occupied his mind. JN~o greater idea than his had been 
 formed since the time of Columbus: the connection of 
 the two great oceans; the abolition of distance and of 
 danger ; the saving of time so important to man, whose 
 schemes are so far extended and whose life is so short ! 
 
 On that lonely and neglected shore his imagination 
 pictured the cities of a great colony; founded, as never 
 colony before was founded, on principles of perfect freedom 
 of religion and of trade. " This union of the two great 
 oceans, this door of the seas and key of the universe," as 
 the projector described it, " was to form a nucleus for a 
 new system of beneficent wealth and benignant power." 
 
 At that moment, with twelve hundred well-armed and 
 able men, the empire of Spain in America might have been 
 overthrown. All the lands that she had devastated, from 
 the north of Mexico to the south of Chili, might have been 
 won for Scotland. But Paterson had no such views. His 
 great object was, by respecting all existing rights, to render 
 those of his own colony respected. He calculated, from 
 previous knowledge of the Indians, on finding them friendly 
 to his cause; and he believed that the weakness of the 
 Spaniards would at least insure their neutrality. 
 
DAEIEN. 317 
 
 And now behold the little fleet of Scottish ships entering 
 the fine harbour of Acta, slowly and cautiously. The 
 entrance is not only narrow, but guarded by diagonal 
 shelves of rocks, between which you can alone steer in 
 safety. Thus, vessels entering this harbour appear as if 
 they were sailing for the opposite shore ; or as if, even 
 with a leading wind, they were tacking to their destination. 
 Once within the harbour's mouth, however, the basin is 
 all that a seaman can desire : almost land-locked, and of 
 capacity to hold five hundred ships ; deep sand at bottom, 
 and the water so clear, that five fathom deep you can see the 
 shells and coral fragments as through the purest glass. A 
 wide bay, fringed with a yellow shore, which seemed to the 
 eager eyes of the emigrants like golden sands, spread round. 
 Mangroves drooped into the water in many places, and 
 were laden with oysters as with fruit. Above this leafy- 
 shore arose stately and graceful trees, opening at intervals 
 in pleasant glades ; then hills succeeded, bounded by moun 
 tains, whence flowed many streams, flashing in cascades 
 among the rocks, or gleaming in tranquil rivers along the 
 plain. 
 
 But the Golden Island, where the emigrants first dis 
 embarked, lies at the entrance of that bay. Landed 
 thereon, they clambered up to the highest point upon the 
 island, and followed with delighted eyes the finger of Pater- 
 son, as he pointed out the various beauties of the promised 
 land. Every spot visible on the wild horizon was full of 
 interest to them. Each bay might shelter friendly fleets ; 
 each tuft of palm-trees might shade an adventurer's future 
 home ; each bold promontory might support a fortress on 
 which their dear country's flag should wave! 
 
 Amid the distraction caused by so many objects and so 
 many thoughts presented at once to the imagination, it was 
 some time before they settled on the spot which Paterson 
 proudly pointed out, as if destined by nature for their future 
 city. About a cannon shot to the southward, a peninsula, 
 with a deep harbour at its extremity, stretched into the sea. 
 The outer arm of the harbour was lofty and commanding, 
 affording not only shelter but shade, to the water within. 
 The other arm of the harbour was low, and as well fitted for 
 artificial defence as the opposite part was formidable by 
 nature. But within these defences and their protected 
 
318 DABIEtf. 
 
 harbour, lay a wide, calm, sheltered bay, capable of con 
 taining all the fleets of Europe. From its western shore 
 two fine rivers discharged themselves into the bay ; and 
 rich savannahs and orange and palm-tree groves bordered 
 the seaboard round. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 City ! whose name should have adorn'd the world ! 
 Thou might'st have been all I ever dream'd, 
 In form, and feature, and material strength : 
 The ingenious boldness, the creative will, 
 Which from some weak uncertain plots of sand, 
 Cast up among the waters, could erect 
 Foundations firm as on the central ground, 
 The art which changed thy huts to palaces, 
 And bade the God of Ocean's temples rise 
 Conspicuous far above the crystal plain, 
 The ever-active nerve of Industry 
 That bound the Orient to the Occident. 
 
 (Altered from) MlLNES. 
 
 THE adventurers' ships had cast anchor, and now lay at 
 rest in the magnificent harbour which Paterson had long 
 destined to receive them, forerunners, as he hoped, of the 
 commercial navies of all nations. And had it not been for 
 England's fatal jealousy, and her king's unworthy prejudice, 
 there is little doubt that a city would there have been 
 founded, to which all the commercial capitals of the world 
 must finally have yielded precedence. 
 
 But it must be owned that there was one other obstacle 
 to success, the modesty of the great contriver of the 
 Bcheme. Though Paterson had intellect to devise the 
 gigantic plan of settlement, and benevolence to render it a 
 blessing, he wanted the bold nature and iron will which 
 enabled a Cortez and a Pizarro to control their own followers, 
 and to found an empire. There was no recognised leader 
 in the expedition. He who devised had not sufficient wise 
 
DARIEN. 319 
 
 injustice to claim it ; and in the absence of a lawful supreme 
 authority, an anarch hydra arose to destroy it. 
 
 At first, however, all promised well. The colonists, in 
 ignorance of their new homo, bowed in everything to the 
 authority of him who alone was at home there. By his 
 direction the ships took up their station opposite to the 
 little peninsula that was to sustain the fort of St. An 
 drew. It was evening when their anchors dropped, and 
 they rested after their long voyage ; yet few on board knew 
 sleep that night. Busy thoughts and glowing anticipations 
 kept every one awake ; and by the first dawn all the boats 
 were crowded and pulling swiftly towards the long-sought- 
 for shore. Paterson was the first to land. He knelt and 
 offered up a fervent thanksgiving for the safety and hope 
 that had been vouchsafed to him and his companions. 
 Each Scotsman, as he landed, likewise knelt, and the whole 
 expedition soon formed one great congregation on that un 
 sheltered shore. Their spontaneous prayer being ended, 
 they rose and embraced one another in the impulse of 
 mutual congratulation. They looked round on the magni 
 ficent country they had come to claim, and they could 
 scarcely believe their happiness. 
 
 It was in the very spring-time of that climate. A genial 
 sunshine poured its glory on the stately forests, the green 
 valleys, and the crystal waters that surrounded them. Sweet 
 balmy odours floated on the breeze, the woods resounded 
 with the melody of brilliant birds. 
 
 By universal consent the emigrants made holiday after 
 landing. They hunted the wild boar ; they fished in the 
 abounding streams and swarming seas : they explored the 
 woods, where almost every bough was bending with fruit ; 
 and in the soft calm evenings they would climb to the sum 
 mit of a lofty hill, that looked far out upon the sea, with all 
 its wooded islands ; there, they would gaze long and ear 
 nestly towards their far-distant home ; and with mute lips, 
 but sympathising eyes, communicate each to the other, 
 pleasant yet mournful thoughts of Scotland. 
 
 At length the holiday, as if by general consent, was ended, 
 and the emigrants set themselves resolutely to work. The 
 peninsula was first fortified, and sixty guns, brought from 
 the ships, were mounted on the infant battlements. They 
 then, with manful labour, cut a canal across the little isthmus, 
 
320 DAEIEN. 
 
 and rendered their peninsula an island. The heart and 
 thought of home were in all they did. The new fort was 
 called St. Andrew's, and the surrounding region that it was 
 to defend received the name of Caledonia. Huts were 
 hastily built of precious woods, that were there mere lum 
 ber ; woods, that by European skill, produce rich dyes, or 
 drugs, or shine, polished, as the chief ornament of palaces. 
 
 While thus employed, the settlers were, of course, unable 
 to attend to the cultivation of the land. But this gave 
 them little concern, for the ships were supposed to contain 
 provision for many months to come ; supplies were expected 
 soon to follow them from Edinburgh, and at all events the 
 West Indian Islands abounded in all that men could desire 
 for food. 
 
 While his companions were employed in fortifying the 
 island and erecting huts, Paterson undertook a journey into 
 the interior, in order to make treaties with the natives, and 
 to obtain from them a righteous title to the land upon which 
 the hope of Scotland hung. He considered himself an in 
 vader until he had obtained a sanction for his settlement 
 from those natives whom the Spaniards considered worthy 
 only of slavery or death.* 
 
 Even with those Spaniards he desired, if possible, to have 
 peace and a good understanding. Deputies from the little 
 colony were sent to the nearest Spanish settlements to ask 
 for welcome ; to declare that the Scots offered free liberty of 
 conscience and free liberty of traffic to all mankind within 
 their settlements ; that they would injure no man, and in 
 vade no nation's rights. 
 
 When these deputies had departed, Paterson, with two 
 others, set out to seek the savage king of Darien, who lived 
 among the hills, two days' journey from St. Andrew's. A 
 few Indians, already conciliated by the gentle Scot, served 
 
 * In 1509, Ferdinand gave to Ojeda all America, from Cape Vela to 
 the Gulf of Darien ; to Niguessa all the space thence to Cape Gracias 
 a Dios. These exclusive proprietors were to inform the natives of the 
 tenets of Christianity; and to explain to them that the Pope had 
 bestowed all Indians on the King of Spain : if they proved rebellious, 
 they were to be slain or enslaved. But the Indians of the Isthmus did 
 not consent to this arrangement. They showed fight, and their 
 poisoned arrows and climate soon drove the remnant of the Spa 
 niards (unable to return to San Domingo) to Santa Maria ; where they 
 fortified themselves. 
 
DABlEtf. 321 
 
 as guides, and carried the presents of beads and cutlery- 
 intended for the royal savage.* 
 
 Alice was left behind to the care of the colonists, and her 
 brave husband set out cheerfully on his mission. At first 
 he found the country devoid of inhabitants ; though it was 
 most pleasantly diversified with green savannahs and cool 
 forests, beneath whose shade he travelled for many miles. 
 The dread of the Spaniards, rather than of the buccaneers, 
 had induced the Indians to retire from all the seaboard into 
 the recesses of their hills. As the ambassadors proceeded, 
 they found the country cultivated in the simple manner of 
 the Indians. Maize, bananas, cocoa-nuts, and pine-apples, 
 were found in profusion. The dwellings of the native 
 people were very slight, and only roofed with palmetto 
 leaves ; but they appeared to want for nothing that con 
 duces to the simple luxuries of savage life. Among their 
 magnificent cedar forests they passed a joyous and com 
 paratively innocent existence, with merely enough of labour 
 to fulfil man's destiny of exertion. When the hour of 
 rest from their light labours came, they lay down in Jiamacs 
 made of cocoa fibre, and suspended from two boughs ; and 
 in these they rocked themselves, children of nature as they 
 were, into calm and careless slumber. 
 
 Paterson, who had made himself acquainted with their 
 language, was everywhere received with kindness and high 
 distinction. The priest of the people prophesied that he 
 was come on a mission of great prosperity to Darien, and 
 favourable report from every mouth heralded his approach 
 to the sovereign. Towards the evening of the second day's 
 journey from St. Andrew's he approached a forest which 
 resounded with wild but pleasant music. On entering one 
 of its many avenues, they beheld a numerous group of 
 musicians, playing on reeds, and attended by a large party 
 of people, who from time to time joined the music in " a 
 chorus of loud humming." As soon as the ambassadors 
 approached them the musicians turned towards the hills, 
 
 * All the biographical sketches of Paterson, and all the histories of 
 Darien, admit this remarkable expedition. 1 found a brief account of 
 it in a pamphlet in the British Museum. It is contained in a small 
 octavo volume entitled " History of Caledonia." The mark is C. 8. 
 The reader who is curious in such matters, will find much interest in 
 this little book, which I only quote from memory. 
 
 I ' 
 
322 DABIEtf. 
 
 and changed their march into a complicated dance, which 
 continued until they crossed a small savannah and ap 
 proached a lofty isolated grove, beneath which they learned 
 that the king was seated. Then the male musicians ceased 
 dancing and recommenced their melodies ; a group of beau 
 tiful women at the same time bounded forth from the covert 
 of the woods ; their graceful forms wore scarcely any con 
 cealment, but they glittered with golden ornaments, and 
 their heads were wreathed with garlands of flowers which 
 they cast at the feet of the white men, and then proceeded, 
 dancing before them, towards the king. 
 
 The swarthy potentate was at length discovered, seated 
 on a characteristic throne of mahogany logs, which were 
 covered partially with Spanish crimson cloth. He wore " a 
 diadem of gold, ten inches high," and a light cotton robe 
 alone enveloped his tall and manly person. Not only ear 
 rings, but a nose-ring, were added to his other ornaments ; 
 and when pleased, he twirled the latter about "as white 
 men sometimes twirl their moustaches." Courtiers were 
 not wanting to this rustic monarch's state : men of noble 
 figure, whose stature was increased by gleaming diadems of 
 the mocking-bird's gold plumage, above which waved two 
 long feathers of the scarlet macaw. As the ambassadors 
 approached the royal presence, the musicians and the female 
 dancers formed a semicircle behind them, and so the levee 
 began. 
 
 The King of Darien received the Scots very graciously, 
 and his eyes alone confessed any undignified pleasure as he 
 received their precious gifts. These having been presented 
 and accepted, Paterson made his speech. 
 
 " We are come," said he, " from the most distant quarter 
 of the globe to greet you, O king ! We are come to you as 
 friendly visitors, not as invaders. We offer to purchase 
 your good-will and welcome towards our nation, together 
 with such land as we require for our sustenance. In return, 
 we will advance your greatness, enrich your people with 
 honest traffic from our European islands, and defend you 
 from the fear of all your enemies." 
 
 The king received this address with a smile of welcome, 
 and twirled his nose-ring in a manner that made glad the 
 hearts of all his courtiers. The attendant priests also 
 looked graciously on the white heretics, who had not neg- 
 
DABIEtf. 323 
 
 lected to afford them tithes of glass beads and other precious 
 things. But that which completed the prosperity of the 
 reception in the eyes of the pawarees or priests, and afforded 
 the most favourable omen that Darien religion could receive, 
 was the approach of a troop of monkeys ! These extra 
 ordinary creatures seemed to sanction by their presence the 
 solemn treaty between the eastern and western people 
 The animals came in thousands, bounding from branch to 
 branch, from tree to tree, until they assembled right over 
 the heads of the assembly. There, they chattered, and 
 mowed, and screamed to the utter suppression of all other 
 business. Nor did they rest content with oral demon 
 stration. They performed all sorts of antics ; amongst 
 others, they caught each his neighbour by the tail, and then 
 forming living chains, they let themselves down from the 
 lofty branches, and swung like great pendulums to and fro, 
 scattering the human crowd from the scope of their gyration, 
 and screaming frantically at the fun. 
 
 It seemed to the Darien priests that there was no deny 
 ing such a sign. With solemn awe they watched each 
 evolution of the monkey mysteries ; and when the living 
 chains, doubling themselves up, and recovering their lofty 
 branches, broke into individual links and scampered off 
 among the tree tops, startling great flocks of roosting 
 parroquets, and scattering far and wide the wild sounds of 
 their aerial procession the priests with one accord inti 
 mated to their king that the gods were indeed well- 
 pleased ! 
 
 Accordingly, a treaty was forthwith made and ratified. 
 Pull freedom was given to the Scots to settle in the land 
 and enjoy it. Between them and the native Dariens there 
 was declared to be " Peace, as long as rivers ran, and gold 
 was found in Darien." 
 
 Then a banquet was held in honour of the strangers. 
 The flesh of the peccary, the fish from the mountain streams, 
 and the fruit from the trees that overarched them, found 
 favour with the Scots; but when a huge lizard, called 
 iguana in that country, was served up with tomata sauce, 
 the ambassadors found their appetites not sufficiently di 
 plomatic to enjoy it. The reptile, however, was soon con 
 sumed by the royal family, and a dessert of figs, peaches, 
 and bastard cinnamon replaced it. Then calabashes, filled 
 
 x 2 
 
324 DAEIEN. 
 
 with fruity drinks, cooled in the neighbouring springs, 
 were handed round. Minstrels all the while, seated on 
 boughs overhead, sang the glories of the savage king, and 
 women danced on the moonlit sward around the favoured 
 guests. 
 
 And when the banquet ended, the ambassadors were 
 conducted to their hamacs, with music by the graceful 
 dancers ; who even proposed to the rigid Presbyterians not 
 to desert them then. 
 
 There we must leave our Scots, swinging in their aerial 
 couches, and rejoicing in all the events of the day, and all 
 the royal proffers of service except the last. 
 
 The next morning the ambassadors set out on their 
 return homeward, attended by all the honours that had 
 greeted their arrival. The enthusiasm of the Indian nation 
 was awakened in their favour; a report spread far and 
 wide over the vales and mountains that the Scots were come 
 to protect them, and restore them to their former security . 
 Among the various parties that met their supposed deli 
 verers on their descent from the hills, was one headed by 
 Andreas, who welcomed Paterson with delight. He at 
 tended him to St. Andrew's, and encamped near there 
 "with his travelling wife" (for we must confess that our 
 old friend had four of these inestimable blessings to serve- 
 in different departments). Thenceforth the faithful In 
 dian never left him until compelled by want of food, in the 
 rainy season, to return to his distant home. 
 
 Besides Andreas, there were various native chiefs, Diego 
 of the Gulf, Ambrosio of the Sanballas, and others, who 
 rejoiced in the privilege of bearing a Christian name, 
 though they aspired to no other advantages from their 
 baptism. 
 
 All these native chiefs pledged themselves to the alliance 
 and support of the colony ; and if the colonists had not, 
 for the most part, been composed of the most unworthy 
 and rebellious spirits, their savage allies would doubtless 
 have remained faithful to them to the last. As it was, 
 though wronged and disgusted, they were more constant 
 in their friendship and services than most European nations 
 would have been. 
 
 When Paterson and his fellow -deputies returned to 
 St. Andrew's, after only six days' absence, they found an 
 
DABIEtf. 325 
 
 alarming change in the colony. A spirit of discontent and 
 mutiny had broken out. The men who worked hard at the 
 new city were dissatisfied that others should remain idle 
 and unpunished. There was as yet no law in the colony. 
 Many of the colonists were men who had escaped from 
 consequences of crime in their own country, and all their 
 evil passions now broke out ; ripened by the warm climate, 
 by long idleness, and by the absence of all settled or ac 
 knowledged government. Then it was found necessary to 
 make laws, but none would submit to a supreme chief. 
 Democracy has many a painful throe to suffer before it can 
 produce anything like safety, comfort, or protection : there 
 is no head and there are no subjects ; but the ear is pleased 
 at the expense of the understanding, and the vanity of 
 having no superiors the very vanity of vanities. 
 
 The colony at St. Andrew's presented a curious appear 
 ance. About twelve hundred persons were now lodged in 
 wooden huts, roofed with palmetto leaves. The external 
 appearance of this rustic village, shaded with magnificent 
 trees and surrounded by the sea, was very romantic. Within, 
 the rude dwellings of the emigrants were singularly fur 
 nished : chests and lockers served for seats and tables ; 
 tartan scarfs, of various patterns, were hung up for cur 
 tains and formed the only partitions ; spades, mattocks, and 
 hatchets, the settler's rough tools, were hung around, but 
 the driest place was allotted to the musket and claymore, 
 on which, under Heaven, their safety mainly depended. 
 One large building was set apart for public worship ; and 
 another for the stores, on which the emigrants calculated 
 as their last resource. Alice Paterson is the only woman 
 whom we hear of as having accompanied the expedition ; 
 but there were several Presbyterian ministers who exer 
 cised their vocation at such length preaching three hours 
 daily as to make doubtful the good old saying that 
 " prayer and provender never hindered work." The latter, 
 indeed, was little likely to hinder it, for provisions began to 
 fall short; and to their grievous disappointment, the emi 
 grants soon found that more than half the meat and biscuits 
 were so bad that they were obliged to be cast into the sea. 
 Even this produced a new calamity, for swarms of sharks 
 were attracted to the harbour by the putrid food. These 
 terrible creatures then made the waters dangerous, and still 
 
826 DAKIEtf. 
 
 infest them in great numbers, though unknown there be 
 fore that time. 
 
 Famine now threatened the infant colony: disappoint 
 ment, too, began to tell upon them. They had been for 
 four months in the promised land, and as yet they had seen 
 no gold, no prospect of the fulfilment of glorious promises 
 that were held out to them. In vain Paterson recalled the 
 memory of the Pilgrim Fathers, who, out of beginnings 
 far more discouraging, had attained to great prosperity, 
 and founded an immortal colony. The Darien settlers had 
 pitched their expectations far higher; they expected, like 
 the conquering Spaniards, at once to seize upon the 
 country's wealth. The wise, humane, and cautious policy 
 of Paterson in conciliating the natives whom the Spaniards 
 would have destroyed or tortured, was too refined for the 
 appreciation or approval of his followers. Murmurs and 
 mutiny began to break out : the works of the fort were in 
 terrupted. A council was at length appointed, and a little 
 parliament elected. By its order, one of the ships was 
 despatched to Jamaica, to endeavour to procure provisions, 
 by any means ; for the colonists had not yet heard of the 
 cruel edict that was soon to be enforced against them. 
 Discontent was for a time suppressed by this new hope. 
 
 Want, however, began to be severely felt. The labourers 
 were unable to work on their short allowance of food. 
 Starvation stared the colony in the face. They had ex 
 hausted all the neighbourhood of game, and it might be 
 long before their ship returned from Jamaica. Then it was 
 that the humane policy of Paterson was rewarded. The 
 King of Darien sent a large body of Indian hunters to the 
 assistance of the white men and the little company of An 
 dreas. Their knowledge of the country and experience 
 enabled them to procure game and fish, where the Scotch 
 men had long ceased to find it. The friendly natives 
 encamped in the neighbourhood of their proteges, and were 
 indefatigable in tlieir service. 
 
 Some few Scots, Torwoodlee among the number, were 
 allowed to join their hunting parties. This young laird 
 had devoted himself loyally to Paterson, and stood by him 
 in all his difficulties. Under the brow-beatings of the 
 ruffian captains (Pennicuik and Drummond), and the 
 more insidious malevolence of Veitch, Torwoodlee had sup- 
 
DAEIEF. 327 
 
 ported his friend's cause in a manner that for a time upheld 
 his influence. And Alice was equally an object of the 
 young laird's solicitude, not only for the sake of Isobel, 
 but for her own. Often he would climb with her to the sum 
 mit of the " Look-out Hill," as it was called ; and, as they 
 watched wistfully for the long-expected ships from Scot 
 land, would unburden himself of his own misgivings, and 
 share her yet deeper anxieties ; for the wife felt not only 
 for the colonists and their cause, but for her husband's fame. 
 She saw him beset with unexpected cares and difficulties ; 
 denied all authority in his own colony : yet visited with 
 reproach, as the author of all calamity. It is true that some 
 of the settlers were themselves honourable and true enough 
 to give due credit to their noble- hearted leader ; and their 
 testimony, ruined as they were by his misfortunes, remains 
 to this day. But the same self-seeking and unworthy 
 spirit, that so damnified the preparations for the expedition, 
 prevailed in a highly exaggerated form when all the wild 
 elements of which it was composed were left to their 
 own anarchical government on the distant shores of Darien. 
 To such an extent did this anarchy prevail, that the very 
 mutineers at length proposed to elect a president ; but their 
 jealousy limited his rule to one week's duration. It followed, 
 that as all those pretending to any influence hated their fel 
 lows, each president occupied his week in undoing the work of 
 his predecessor. Hence the work of defence advanced but 
 slowly ; cultivation of the exuberant soil was almost 
 neglected; the scanty supplies were unjustly doled out; 
 some of the sturdiest labourers were half-starved, because 
 unpopular with the sea-captains. And to sum up all, the 
 preachers, who considered themselves as the chiefs of a 
 theocracy, inflamed the minds of those who listened with 
 uncharitableness, and denounced in awful language all those 
 who turned a deaf ear to them. 
 
 These infatuated men insisted on the whole colony at 
 tending their service for six hours on every Sunday, mewed 
 up in a damp and narrow building called a chapel, the heat 
 of which sent many to their graves, and filled the hospital. 
 Even on week-days they required all those who called them 
 selves Christians, to listen to their " outpourings" for three 
 mortal hours mortal often in more senses than one. The 
 letters written home by these stern fanatics at that time 
 
328 
 
 are among the most melancholy records of the period ; 
 such a fierce and unpardoning spirit do they breathe, while 
 they rejoice with bitter joy in the very calamities that be 
 fell their fellow-sufferers. These they designate as " visible 
 judgments, very refreshing to the faith !" 
 
 Thus ambition, ignorance, and selfishness, with their con 
 comitants, mutiny and discontent, combined to destroy the 
 infant colony. Amongst all these combustible ingredients 
 was finally flung the torch of fanaticism, and thus the de 
 struction which neither English king nor parliament could 
 have effected, was rendered inevitable. 
 
 From all these harassing proceedings, Torwoodlee was 
 too happy to escape to the forests occasionally, and there 
 take his turn of providing food for the community. He 
 soon acquired almost the subtlety of the Indians in their 
 style of hunting, and excelled them in daring and perse 
 verance. The magnificent forests of the isthmus were to 
 him full of charms ; inexhaustible in their variety of scenery 
 and of game. From the iguana and the young monkey, up 
 to the wild boar and the jaguar, there was a wide range for 
 the sportsman. Among birds, the partridge, the scarlet 
 curry, the sweet-voiced corrosou, or wild turkey, the beau 
 tiful chicaly of the woodpecker tribe, parrots and macaws 
 of every colour, snow-white pelicans, and blue oloves, made 
 a brilliant "bag." The waters, too, abounded in fish, from 
 the mullet up to the gigantic manatee, or sea-cow, which 
 struggled under the harpoon like a whale of the fresh 
 water. Then, on the bay, the Indians used to glide along 
 in their canoe as softly as a wave, and transfix the sleep 
 ing turtle with their spears. They would also leister the 
 paracoods, as they fed on a crispy seaweed that grows like 
 a fungus at the root of the mangrove-trees.* Sometimes 
 they would shoot with poisoned arrows from the blowpipe, 
 the large cavally, and the gar-fish,f as they rose out of the 
 water at the manchineel apples that overhung the sea, 
 
 * The paracood is an excellent fish at some seasons of the year ; at 
 others it is poisonous, and its only antidote is said to be its backbone 
 burned, pulverized and drunk in mislaw. a liquor made of the plan 
 tain. 
 
 t The gar-fish has a long sharp bony snout : it swims so fast and 
 recklessly that it sometimes transpierces the native canoes with this 
 probe 
 
PARTED. 329 
 
 waiting for each wave to lift them towards the fruit-laden 
 bough, and then springing from its crest. 
 
 In such pursuits the young Scotchman gladly relieved 
 himself from the dreary and discordant controversies of 
 Fort St. Andrew. There was a mystery about the forest 
 haunts, and legendary renown of strange beings who dwelt 
 there, that strongly excited his curiosity. There was a 
 race of very white small people, the Indians said, who 
 lived in the remotest recesses of the hills. They had long 
 fair hair, as soft as silk, and eyes like the opal stone. They 
 were seldom seen by daylight ; but, as if they saw best by 
 night, they then roved about, leaping with such nimbleness 
 from tree to tree as to catch monkeys, and sometimes even 
 birds. But the natives knew little of this people, for their 
 pow-wows or priests told them that they were unholy, and 
 that their very sight had a sinister influence upon the red 
 man. 
 
 One day, Torwoodlee had pursued to the foot of the hills 
 an animcl called warree, a small but very fierce wild hog, 
 with long tusks. The creature at length stood at bay in a 
 cavern, whose natural gloom was deepened by woods of the 
 tamarind and locust-tree that concealed it. As Torwoodlee 
 was charging in upon the wild hog with his spear, some 
 strange apparition rushed past him. He started, his foot 
 slipped, and as he fell the warree ran at him, inflicting a 
 deep wound in his neck and shoulder, and then escaped. 
 Torwoodlee thought that he had seen his own wraith, and 
 as he felt himself becoming rapidly more faint from loss of 
 blood, he thought that his last hour was come. A vision of 
 his old house and its dark woods, of Isobel, of his father, 
 swam before his eyes, and he became insensible. 
 
 His trance must have lasted a long time, for the sun was 
 just rising as he awoke to consciousness. He found him 
 self on a couch of the softest moss, separated from the 
 damp ground by woven branches. The upper part of his 
 dress had been removed, his wound washed clear from 
 blood, and bound over with palmetto-leaves, secured with 
 fibres of the silk-grass ; a cocoa-nut shell filled with pure 
 water stood beside him, with a few bunches of bananas. 
 
 As he lay there, helpless from loss of blood, and wonder 
 ing who his good Samaritan could have been, he saw a 
 huge dark hairy face peering in at the end of the cave. 
 
330 DAEIEN. 
 
 Its expression was a "horrible mixture of cunning and fero 
 city, with a demoniac sort of fun in its often-winking eyes. 
 A huge club, torn freshly from a tree, was in its hands, and 
 a voice like a dismal howl added terror to the vision. Un 
 able to move as he was, Torwoodlee could not suppress a 
 groan ; and it was scarcely uttered when the same white 
 apparition that he had before seen seemed to flash across 
 the cave, and smote the dark-visaged fiend so rudely that it 
 disappeared with a yell of pain. Overcome by this new 
 terror and his great weakness, the sufferer again fainted ; 
 and when he recovered, he found everything around him 
 profoundly silent. Thus he lay in loneliness until sunset, 
 when the wild concert of the woods began ; the howling 
 of wild beasts, the screaming of macaws, the sweet music 
 of the mocking-bird, the plaintive cry of the whip-poor- 
 "Will. And then the bright moon threw awful shadows 
 from the trees, and ghastly gleams of light upon the 
 savannah that opened some distance from the cave. 
 
 As Torwoodlee looked in fear upon the strange scenes 
 that surrounded him, and listened to the awful sounds with 
 which the forest echoed, one of the gleams of moonlight 
 seemed to move ; it became perpendicular ; it glided to 
 wards him ; it stood beside him. and gazed with eyes full 
 of a mysterious light, yet of wondrous sadness, on the 
 prostrate hunter. Saints above ! was it the vision of a 
 disturbed brain, or did he there behold a seraph form, such 
 as the living cannot see ? 
 
 His prolonged stare only confirmed the impression; a 
 female form of exquisite grace was there ; white and soft 
 as the down on the swan's breast, and Evelike in inno 
 cence of look and attire. Her fair shining hair twined 
 and knotted with wild grace above her head, looked like a 
 diadem, and her eyes shone like stars. 
 
 As soon as this strange being saw the body she had been 
 watching now give some signs of life, she clapped her hands 
 above her head, with a sort of wild delight. She knelt 
 down beside the mossy couch, and examined the hunter's 
 wound ; the touch was warm and soft ; she must be human ! 
 She passes her long fingers over his wondering eyes and 
 closes them, then darts away, and he opens his eyes once 
 more in vacancy. 
 
 All night he slept soundly, though haunted by strange 
 
DAKIEF. 331 
 
 visions ; next morning just before the dawn he sees his 
 kind watcher once more, only for a moment, and he ob 
 serves that her form is far below the size that its exquisite 
 proportion would have argued. But she is gone again, and 
 in a manner unlike a creature of earth ; she sprang towards 
 a bough that overhung the cavern's mouth, and apparently 
 with perfect ease swung herself up into the air. 
 
 Towards evening, the hunter felt able to crawl out from 
 his cave, and was musing how he might escape from his 
 present helpless condition, when the hiss of a snake proved 
 to him his inability. He turned towards the thicket whence 
 the sound proceeded, and there he saw impending almost 
 over him, the widely distended mouth and in-turned teeth 
 of a huge bushmaster serpent, the deadliest of all his 
 species. He remained motionless, and almost resigned to 
 death, when suddenly a huge bough descended and struck 
 his enemy to the ground. The next moment the white 
 girl stood before him, and with entreating gestures mo 
 tioned him to return to the cave. Her appearance was 
 now familiar to him, and he no longer shrank from her, as 
 she offered him her downy white shoulder to lean upon. 
 Whatever else she might be, she was woman enough to 
 arrange his mossy couch comfortably, to raise up his rude 
 pillow ; and then to sit, or rather to crouch down, beside 
 him and watch by him almost tenderly. As the shades of 
 evening came on, her eyes began to shine again with the 
 same strange lustre that had astonished the hunter before ; 
 but now their lambent glance was so gentle and mild in its 
 expression, that he delighted to look upon it. 
 
 Thus for several evenings Torwoodlee was tended by his 
 mysterious friend, and supplied with fruits and fresh water, 
 and the softest couch that the wild woods afforded. He 
 tried in vain to communicate in speech with his preserver, 
 but a strange unintelligible mournful voice alone replied 
 to him. 
 
 One morning he was startled from his sleep by the 
 sound of heavy footsteps approaching; he was then suf 
 ficiently revived to rise and walk, and had only been de 
 tained by the evident fear of his protectress lest he should 
 injure himself. She rushed to the mouth of the cave as if 
 in terror, and tried to spring up by her accustomed bough, 
 but the gaunt figure of an Indian at the same moment 
 
332 DAEIEtf. 
 
 darkened the cave and smote her with a heavy cluh ; she 
 gave one wild, unearthly shriek, and fell, while streams of 
 blood gushed forth upon her snowy skin and now loosened 
 hair. Torwoodlee rushed at her murderer and struck him 
 to the ground ; but he was immediately seized by some 
 other Indians, whom he recognised as belonging to a 
 friendly tribe. 
 
 "What would you do?" they exclaimed, in their im 
 perfect English. " Would you kill the holy pawarree for 
 saving you from the witchcraft of the Downi ? We have 
 long sought for you in vain, and it was only by the magic 
 skill of the pawarree that we discovered your retreat." 
 
 But Torwoodlee would not be comforted for the loss of 
 his gentle preserver ; nor could he express any gratitude to 
 the pawarree. He carried the lifeless body of the Downi 
 into the cave, and gently placed it on the couch her care 
 had made for him. He bathed the beautiful little form 
 with tears of gratitude, and it was long before the Indians 
 could tear him from the indulgence of his grief. At length 
 he consented to accompany them towards home ; but first, 
 at his request, they piled up huge stones and sticks at the 
 mouth of the cave, and there they left the fair white body, 
 with its old home for its sepulchre. 
 
 In the evening they reached a spot where Andreas was 
 encamped. 
 
 " You have had a great escape," said he, very solemnly 
 to the Scot; "you fell into the hands of a people who 
 would soon have torn you to pieces and fed upon you. 
 We wage war to the death upon those white creatures, 
 whom we thought were now extinct. But thanks to the 
 great skill of our pawarree, we found you and rescued 
 you." 
 
 Torwoodlee, though he bore no good-will to the pawar- 
 rees, felt some curiosity to investigate their pretensions to 
 prophetic skill. Amongst all mankind, there exists an un 
 dying desire to penetrate into futurity, and in those earlier 
 times, men had more faith than is now generally disposable. 
 Wafer had lately asserted solemnly, that one of these In 
 dian priests or conjurors had exactly predicted his fate and 
 that of his companions ; Master Borland, a Scottish mi 
 nister, had himself confessed that they had diabolic assist 
 ance ; and whether the news came from below or above, in 
 
DAEIEIT. 333 
 
 the present anxious state of the colony Torwoodlee thought 
 that any revelation of its fortunes would be interesting, to 
 say nothing of private matters, at least as near his heart. 
 He therefore forgave, as far as he could, the murderous, 
 though well-meaning act that he still shuddered at ; and he 
 apologized to the conjuror for his rough treatment. The 
 seer nodded forgiveness, and said that he could not have 
 helped it ; it was so written in the stars. But he was very 
 near re-awakening all the Scot's anger by assuring him that 
 the beautiful Downi had only regarded him in the light of 
 live stock, to be consumed as food when occasion required 
 him. 
 
 At length all matters were arranged for the prophecy. 
 The night was dark, but a bright cedar fire threw a ruddy 
 glare all over the group that had assembled under a wide- 
 spreading tree. The pawarree retired to a short distance 
 and made a little fire of his own, whereon he burned some 
 strong-smelling herbs, which sent up a thick smoke. Then 
 the sorcerer arose, and danced wildly round the flame, hold 
 ing his head over the smoke arid inhaling it. As he whirled 
 about, he began a low whirring song, which gradually grew 
 louder, and at last became a series of shrieks, reminding 
 the Scot of the Highland fling, not only in ejaculations, 
 but in the jumping, frantic-looking dance which accom 
 panied them. At length the seer, exhausted, flung him 
 self on the ground, and holding his hands over his eyes, 
 beckoned Torwoodlee to approach, which he did, with 
 Andreas to interpret for him. He first inquired how 
 fared a beautiful lady in Scotland, who lived in a tall 
 stone house, amid dark woods on a hill side. The seer, 
 swaying backwards and forwards, took some minutes to 
 inquire of his spirit ; he then chaunted these words : 
 
 " The pale-face walks in dark woods, 
 Her thoughts are darker, 
 They are hunting out a man in the east; 
 And they follow a woman in the west ; 
 But they seek not the pale-face that the Downi desired." 
 
 The countenance of Torwoodlee fell ; and it was with a 
 faltering voice that he inquired how the colony would 
 speed. The pawarree again paused some minutes, and 
 again took up his dismal chant : 
 
334 DAEIEN. 
 
 " The pale- faces came across the seas ; 
 They wanted my people to worship their God. 
 We did not understand their words ; 
 But we saw their deeds, 
 And they were not good. 
 They came, and the red man loved them ; 
 For they said that they would eat the Spaniard up ; 
 But the rain comes and washes them away ; 
 They go to sleep in the red man's graves ; 
 Or they sail away to the land of streams ; 
 To Xaymaca, where they feed the crab. 
 The red man sorrows for the pale-faces, 
 And their name becomes only a legend in the land." * 
 
 Andreas repeated these sad presages in an accent of 
 despair, and thenceforth he gave up all faith in the 
 colony's success. Indeed, the country about New Cale 
 donia was so exhausted of game, that his people could 
 scarcely sustain themselves, much less support the vora 
 cious colonists, whose appetites astonished them. He still 
 loved the gentle and courteous Paterson ; but he felt that 
 the Scot was only vainly struggling against destiny ; and 
 in his own mind he now resolved to withdraw himself and 
 his followers from the vortex of destruction. 
 
 As he was musing thus, Torwoodlee requested him once 
 more to interrogate the seer. 
 
 " Shall I return to my own country ?" he demanded. 
 
 Again the seer set himself in motion, swinging to and 
 fro ; and again his dismal chant broke forth : 
 
 " The pale-face father in thy house, 
 Makes feast for thy success ; 
 She whom thou desirest as thy squaw, 
 Is glad of thy prosperity. 
 But neither old man nor young maid rejoices 
 With such true cause 
 
 As the sharks that dance round the retreating ships. 
 They wait to welcome thee : 
 
 Thou upon whom hast fallen the spell of the Downi ; 
 Thou who hast struck the pawarree." 
 
 * The Eev. Mr. Borland, one of the ministers who accompanied the 
 expedition, denounced these " Powwows," as he calls them. " And, 
 indeed," he adds, " the devil gives them responses, which fall out 
 accordingly : whereof we had an experiment, while we were in Darien 
 harbour ; for some of them told us that so many ships would come 
 into our harbour, and afterwards we should be gone for Jamaica, which 
 came to pass accordingly," Borland's Narrative is now very scarce : 
 I am indebted for the use of it, with many other favours, to Mr. Laing, 
 of the Signet Library. 
 
DAEIEN. 335 
 
 The young Scot asked to hear no more. He tried to 
 shake ofl' the dreary impression that the Indian sorcerer 
 had conveyed to him ; but it clung round every thought 
 by which he endeavoured to divert his mind. It haunted 
 him through the hours of that long night in the forest, and 
 accompanied him back to the fort of Sfc. Andrew, which he 
 reached on the following day. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 " Dearly," say they, " may we those visions rue 
 
 Which lured us from our native land, 
 
 A wretched, lost, devoted band ; 
 
 Led on by Hope's delusive gleam, 
 
 The victims of a fatal dream. 
 
 For us no requiem shall be sung, 
 
 Or knell in holy kirk be rung." 
 
 J. BAILLIE. 
 
 TOEWOODLEE returned to Port St. Andrew, weak in frame 
 and depressed in mind by the sorcerer's incantations, which, 
 in spite of him, hung heavily on his spirit. The dark pro 
 phecy regarding the colony appeared to his eyes to be 
 rapidly approaching fulfilment. Every day the little band 
 of adventurers was reduced ; the men who were still able to 
 work strove faintly to complete the fortifications, and to till 
 the ground for crops which they were destined not to reap. 
 Many of these pale and worn, but still resolute, labourers, 
 passed rapidly from the trenches to the crowded hospital, 
 and thence, still more hurriedly, to their graves. Already 
 the burial-ground was better tenanted than the fort. 
 
 And yet the gaunt survivors still maintained their dis 
 sensions, their petty ambitions, and their insubordination. 
 Still the ministers denounced, the sea-captains bullied, the 
 clerks peculated, the workmen pined, all murmured, but 
 all held on ! 
 
 At length the long-expected ship returned from Jamaica ; 
 she brought the astounding intelligence of King "William's 
 edict against the Scottish colony, already struggling with 
 every ill that could afiect brave men. That monarch, having 
 
336 DAEIEN. 
 
 first approved of and encouraged the expedition, had the 
 unparalleled cruelty to condemn it to destruction. On the 
 remonstrance of the meanly-jealous English parliament, the 
 king sent an order (dated on Sunday, which still more 
 shocked its victims) to all the English colonies in America 
 and the West Indian islands, forbidding them, on any pre 
 tence whatever, to supply either provisions or other stores to 
 the Scottish colony at Darien; yet he knew that there was 
 elsewhere no sustenance to be obtained by them at their side 
 of the Atlantic. These orders were acted upon to the very 
 letter ; and the necessaries of life, that were freely granted 
 to the buccaneers, the enemies of mankind, were withheld 
 from the gallant band of Scots now perishing at Darien. 
 
 The news of this edict filled the doomed colonists with 
 despair. The rainy season was just setting in, and not only 
 brought with it all diseases generated by damp, and heat, 
 and ill shelter, but drove away the Indian allies, who had 
 hitherto shamed the English monarch and his ministers by 
 their care and charity. In the isthmus the rains are 
 ushered in by a perfect deluge tumbling from the sky ; the 
 trickling streams swell suddenly into roaring and destructive 
 torrents ; the plains are quickly flooded, the whole country 
 is swamped. All the while a close and terrible heat per 
 vades the darkened atmosphere ; noisome insects fill the air, 
 and swarm upon the ground. To breathe is an effort, and 
 miasma creeps into the lungs at every laboured respiration. 
 When the rain ceases for some time in the night, the wan 
 moon gleams down upon a ghastly world of waters, whence, 
 among drowned groves, rises up pestilence in the visible 
 form of murky vapours. 
 
 No wonder that amid such scenes even the stout Scottish 
 hearts began to fail. Hitherto, notwithstanding all their 
 hardships, death had been confined to the hospital : now it 
 was an inmate in almost eveiy crowded hut. Misery is the 
 strongest ally of pestilence : when the soul sinks, the poor 
 clay that encloses it will soon also yield. The fort of St. 
 Andrew became one great infirmary. None could recognise, 
 in the pale gaunt forms that lay stretched on damp couches, 
 or in those who watched over them with wistful love, the 
 stalwart men who had left their native land in health, and 
 strength, and hope, a few months before. Paterson alone, 
 sustained by unquenchable hope, preserved a calm and 
 
DAEIEN. 337 
 
 serene dignity among these sorrows. He knew that a ship, 
 with stores and provisions, should soon arrive from Scotland. 
 He looked beyond the present appalling hours to brighter 
 days : he knew that the climate would be changed by culti 
 vation, that hardships would be obviated by better shelter. 
 He was cheered by his faithful, uncomplaining wife, who 
 loyally held to his own high faith and hope ; though she in 
 secret felt that a double debt of charity and watchfulness 
 to the sick was due from the wife of him who had led them 
 there. She and her husband were indefatigable in their 
 ministry to the dying, and in endeavouring to preach com 
 fort and patience to those who had not yet sunk under the 
 fatal climate. 
 
 The expected ship did not arrive ; she had foundered on 
 her way. Two of the Darien vessels had already been 
 despatched to England. There were not healthy men 
 enough to man the rest, even if they thought of escaping ; 
 but they did not. They had left their homes resolved to 
 conquer or to die, and the latter alternative was encountered 
 with characteristic courage. A sad and solemn sight it 
 must have been for Paterson, notwithstanding all their 
 errors and offences, to see his gallant band perishing slowly 
 round him. Now a father received his son's last sigh, and 
 knelt in resigned prayer beside the loved cold form before it 
 was carried out for hasty burial. Now a brother listened 
 earnestly for the last message to a distant home from a 
 brother's purple lips. Some tried with wasted arms to 
 control the strong struggles of the delirious. Some lay 
 languidly down, as if to facilitate the approach of death : 
 and all the time the rain still poured through the hot dark 
 air, blotting out all the fair scenes which the emigrant's 
 closing eyes had lately dwelt on with delight. And still 
 through the gloom was constantly seen the form of Alice, 
 moving from one sufferer to another, like an angel of hope, 
 soothing the body with cool drinks, and the soul with holy 
 words. Nor did she ever allow Paterson to discover the 
 grief and hopelessness that began to devour her own heart, 
 that heart so joyous and wayward when he first won its 
 faithf ully-endurin g love. At night her tears fell abundantly, 
 but she rose in the morning betimes to dry her pillow, that 
 no trace of her sorrow might be detected by him who un 
 consciously had brought it upon her. 
 
338 DAKIEtf. 
 
 At length a ray of hope broke in upon the colony. We 
 have already noticed the high hill near St. Andrew's, where 
 the exiles were accustomed, on the fine evenings of their 
 summer, to rest themselves and gaze towards Scotland. 
 The rain had now begun to abate, and was followed by a 
 violent tempest. In one of the first intervals of the gale, 
 Paterson climbed the hill once more, in instinctive but 
 almost despairing hope. He saw a brig struggling with the 
 storm that had cleared away the clouds.* 5 She was evidently 
 bound for the harbour, and steered by one who knew its 
 dangers well ; but she had carried away her fore-topmast, 
 .and was almost unmanageable. Paterson hurried to the 
 fort to summon assistance, and to communicate the prospect 
 of relief. Who can blame him if he entered his own poor 
 hut first with the joyful news ? He stood still, as if spell 
 bound, on the threshold. Alice had caught the fever, and 
 was lying prostrate, with death's pallor on her face, upon 
 the miserable pallet that served them for a bed. The relief, 
 the hope, Darien itself, were all forgotten, as the care-worn 
 Paterson knelt beside his faithful wife. ' The progress of 
 the fearful disease that consumed her was rapid. Her 
 beautiful mouth was purple and swollen, her cheeks were 
 sunken, her eyes alone retained that gentle seraphic light 
 which had shone over her husband in life, and could now 
 comfort him even in death. The very lighb of immortality 
 was now shining there, though all around was decaying 
 darkly. 
 
 The little village had been suddenly deserted when the 
 news was spread that a vessel was in sight ; but numbers 
 soon returned when they heard that Alice was dying, and 
 clustered round the door, fearing to intrude, yet longing to 
 oifer their rude sympathy and service. 
 
 A cry from those upon the shore was heard that the 
 strange vessel had struck ; and even the mourners hurried 
 away to catch the last glimpse of their expected relief as it 
 was dashed to pieces on the rocks. One or two of the crew 
 struggled ashore, and were gratefully welcomed ; the rest 
 were lost. One of the survivors was a man of fine athletic 
 form, but his face was deeply scarred, and its expression 
 was stern and forbidding. 
 
 * All these details are taken from the writings of the colonists 
 themselves. 
 
DAEIEK. 339 
 
 " Yonder ! " he said, pointing almost scornfully to where 
 the wrecked spars and tangled rigging of his brig still 
 floated : " yonder was a goodly craft last night, loaded with 
 a hundred tons of flour and good boucaned beef. It's all 
 gone now, and I shall have small thanks for it. Have you 
 no women among you?" he demanded hastily, having cast 
 his eyes over the group. 
 
 "We had one," was the reply; "but she's down with 
 the fever, yonder." 
 
 The shipwrecked sailor appeared to forget his recent mis 
 fortune, his half-drowned plight, and everything else, as he 
 stalked away towards the hut that had been pointed out to 
 him. He unceremoniously pushed aside the crowd that had 
 again collected at the door, and entering, he threw himself 
 on his knees by the bedside of Alice. He was silent for a 
 moment, as he gazed earnestly upon her altered face ; and 
 then he burst into such a wild passion of grief as to rouse 
 even her expiring attention. Her eyes moved slowly from 
 her husband's face to his, and he saw that he was recognised. 
 He repressed his emotion, and, in a low, husky voice, sobbed 
 out her name. 
 
 " Alice ! " he exclaimed ; " Alice ! I came to save you and 
 yours, for the sake of the old times and I have lost you 
 lost you for ever. Alice, forgive me all my crimes the 
 only forgiveness I have ever sought that I shall ever ask 
 for. You I never wronged. I loved you desperately ; and 
 it would have been heaven to me, here and hereafter, to 
 have called you wife. But I was what they called married, 
 though you knew it not. I did not dare to deceive you, 
 yet I could not tell you the truth. I sailed away from your 
 quiet home, met you once ; lost you ; heard among the 
 islands that you were starving here, and thought I might 
 do one good deed before I died. What had I to do with 
 goodness ? Heaven was against me, as it always was. 
 The sea has swallowed up all ; and would that it had not 
 spared me ! " 
 
 The wretched buccaneer was speaking to unconscious 
 ears ; Alice was no longer living : he suffered himself to be 
 led out of the hut ; and Paterson, almost unconscious of all 
 that he had just heard, was left alone with his dead. 
 
 A few days had passed, and the heavy rains and fiery 
 sunshine had already covered with green grass the grave of 
 
 T 2 
 
340 DARIEtf. 
 
 Alice Paterson. Many a gallant countryman lay around 
 her. The burying-ground was the only part of the settle 
 ment that throve. Even when the fine season set in and 
 a finer season is not seen on earth the heavens seemed 
 only to smile in mockery of all hope. The ghastly remnant 
 of the Scottish settlers were unable to work, and passed the 
 day in dreary languor ; or only roused themselves to exer 
 tion when their miserable pittance of bad food was doled 
 out amongst them. Such as could still summon any 
 strength, employed it in climbing the hill that looked out 
 upon the sea towards Scotland. There they would sit for 
 hours, a sad and silent company. That mountain was called 
 " Pisgah ; " but they looked with backward, not prophetic 
 feelings, on their pilgrimage. Yainly, day by day, diminish 
 ing numbers climbed that hill, and watche'd for the long- 
 expected succour. 
 
 Paterson, whose grief was too deep for show, whose 
 private feelings were crushed into insensibility, and hidden 
 away, as if indecorous, in the midst of the great public ca 
 lamity, appeared once more calm and self-possessed. He 
 endeavoured to sustain the drooping spirits of his comrades, 
 and still spoke to them in the language of undying hope. 
 
 Let justice be done to those brave men, erring and way 
 ward as they were. Not one was heard to reproach him as 
 the author of their calamity, though many an imprecation 
 was uttered on their cruel king, and many a reproach upon 
 those at home who seemed to have abandoned them. 
 
 At length they resolved to depart from the fatal soil. 
 
 "A few days more," they said, "and we shall not have 
 life enough le'ft in us to sail away." 
 
 In vain Paterson held out against the public will. In 
 vain he represented their abandonment of the colony as a 
 desertion as a dereliction of the trust reposed in them by 
 Scotland. Self-preservation, it was replied, was superior to 
 any other law. The emigrants prepared, though slowly and 
 sadly, to embark: Young Torwoodlee alone supported 
 Paterson: he shrank from returning in poverty to the home 
 that had been impoverished to speed him forth upon the 
 fatal enterprise. He aspired, too, to that good report, so 
 precious to a son and to a lover, that would reach his home. 
 Though Isobel had given him no hope, his honour in her 
 eyes was dear as ever perhaps more dear. 
 
DAHIE3T. 341 
 
 But neither lie nor Paterson could oppose that resolution 
 which now, in sullen silence, was being earnestly carried 
 into effect. The remnant of the stores, and the pitiable 
 relics of provisions, eked out with such fresh fruits as the 
 early season yielded, were put on board. The helpless emi 
 grants had not wherewithal to take them to Europe. The 
 West India Isles were closed against them, either by the 
 Spaniards or by William's barbarous decree. They fixed 
 their destination for New York. 
 
 Early, one fair spring morning, the Scots assembled in 
 their house of prayer. It was for the last time. When 
 first it was built out of the native trees, it could scarcely 
 contain the crowded hopeful congregation. Now, hopes 
 and crowd alike had vanished. By far the greater number 
 were at rest, hard by, in the lone burial-ground. The sur 
 vivors gathered round their sole surviving minister. When 
 the blessing was pronounced, with one accord the emigrants 
 went away to the cemetery each to seek the well-remem 
 bered hillock where his friend or kinsman sole inheritors of 
 the promised land now lay. Then, summoned by a gun 
 shot from the leading ship, they streamed in a sad proces 
 sion towards the shore. Paterson and Torwoodlee alone 
 hung back. The former was the last to leave the shore. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Ye ruins, I will return once more to attend your lessons ! I will 
 resume my place in the midst of your wide-spreading solitudes ! 1 
 will leave the tragic scene of human passions : I will love my species 
 rather from recollection than actual survey : I will occupy myself in 
 promoting their happiness, and will found my own on the remembrance 
 that I have conduced to theirs. 
 
 YOLNEY. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING the fatal edict of King William, high 
 hopes had continued to be held in Scotland of the Darien 
 expedition. The first report from the emigrants alone had 
 been received, and it was eloquent with hope and high pro 
 spects. Erom the leaders to the humblest follower, the 
 
342 DAEIE1ST. 
 
 settlers had written in the same strain, and throughout 
 Scotland the happy report spread rapidly. 
 
 In the old house of Torwoodlee, among others, there 
 was hearty rejoicing, though gravely expressed, in puritan 
 fashion. Not only the chieftain was happy for his own, his 
 country's, and his son's sake, but Isobel was full of joy for 
 the sake of Alice and her heroic husband. The old house 
 had long been closed to any approach to gaiety, but at the 
 receipt of the good news of his son, the Laird of Torwood 
 lee bade his friends welcome once more, and his hospitable 
 board was surrounded by kinsmen of all degrees and all 
 ranks in life. Thither came "Whytbank and Tonsonce ; 
 and even Blindlee and Raining, though hostile, had some 
 members there of their younger branches.* As the even 
 ing of a cold clear day in March was closing, three loud 
 strokes on the buttery door announced that supper was 
 served, and it was soon attacked by the large clan of Pringle, 
 with all the energy of a great celebration. 
 
 Among the guests at the lower table there was a slight 
 stir, as a stranger of foreign appearance, and with a long 
 flowing beard, appeared, and claimed hospitality. A place 
 was quickly made, and kindly welcome given; but the 
 stranger seemed dissatisfied. At last, after making some 
 inquiries about the household, he remained silent. He 
 was almost unnoticed, too, for many other strangers had 
 availed themselves of the open gates that welcomed every 
 comer on that night of thanksgiving. The feast proceeded ; 
 the bagpipes lent their maddening notes to swell the cheer 
 ful tumult. The stern and thoughtful brows of the Scots 
 relaxed: puritans as they were, for once they allowed 
 themselves to be glad. The bearded stranger alone re 
 mained silent, and when one of his neighbours asked him if 
 he bore a grudge to any of the Darien heroes, and if not, 
 
 * It is characteristic of those old times, that the kindred houses in 
 Haining and Blindlee were so opposed to Whytbank and Torwoodlee, 
 that they (binding themselves to James the Second's government) 
 persecuted their kinsmen even to death and confiscation (which may 
 afford some clue to their zeal). Torwoodlee stands on one side of a 
 deep valley : Blindlee stood on the opposite side, about a long 
 musket-shot across. The Pringles of Blindlee used to try to shoot at 
 their kinsmen from their windows, and no doubt the fire was wont to 
 be returned. 
 
DABIEtf. 343 
 
 why he refused to join in the general rejoicing, the 
 stranger only emphatically repeated the word " Rejoic 
 ing!" 
 
 At that very hour the ruined remnant of the expedition 
 was on the sea, having had scarcely strength enough to 
 weigh their anchors or to hoist their sails. And even the 
 wind, with all other aid, seemed to fail them, for they lay 
 in a waveless calm for days, close to the fatal shores of 
 Darien. The fatality pursued them still : men died daily, 
 and many a wan and wasted form lay gasping in the sultry 
 air which poisoned the lungs that drank it in. Among 
 these was young Torwoodlee, who was dying on the western 
 waters, while his home was celebrating his success. 
 
 There far away the celebration went on merrily till 
 late ; and then, after a long grace and thanksgiving, the 
 guests separated all at once, and took their various ways 
 across the heath. It is remembered among their descend 
 ants to this day, that when midnight sounded from the 
 belfry of Gralashiels, it seemed to be echoed back mys 
 teriously and mournfully from Torwoodlee: every bell in 
 the house, at the same moment, sounded slowly and so 
 lemnly ; and strange voices seemed to haunt the air, filling 
 the minds of all who heard them with ominous forebodings. 
 Just then young Torwoodlee had died.* 
 
 And enviable appeared his fate to those who stood 
 around him, and who at length reluctantly consigned his 
 body to the deep. A slow and cruel death seemed awaiting 
 all. Even the mind of Paterson at length yielded under 
 his sore trial. " He became like a little child," says one of 
 the survivors ; " docile and gentle as he always was, but 
 dreamy and apparently unconscious of a past or future." 
 
 At length a breeze sprang up, and the leaky, sun-scorched 
 ships, with tattered sails and spectral crews, moved on 
 away from Darien. As its last peak was about to dis 
 appear beneath the horizon, the feverish eyes of the broken 
 hearted leader of the expedition turned towards it for a 
 moment, instinctively then closed to shut out that last, 
 last vision. 
 
 A few words are sufficient to conclude the disastrous 
 story. The ships, with one exception, reached Charlestown, 
 
 * A well-known legend in the " Forest." 
 
344 DABIEtf. 
 
 in North America. Thence, after some delay, about thirty 
 of the emigrants returned to Scotland, the sole remnant of 
 twelve hundred lusty adventurers who, burning with high 
 hope, had left their country twelve months before. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 Faith is not built on disquisitions vain, 
 
 The things we must believe are few and plain : 
 
 But since men will believe more than they need, 
 
 And every man will make himself a creed ; 
 
 In doubtful questions 'tis the wisest way 
 
 To learn what unsuspected ancients say. 
 
 RELIGIO LAICT. 
 
 "Ws now return to the manor-house of Torwoodlee, whose 
 indwellers, notwithstanding the rejoicings we have lately 
 mentioned, passed a sleepless night, disturbed by anxieties 
 and vague fears. Among the causes for such misgivings, 
 an expression used by the stranger was not forgotten. It 
 was recorded by one of the servants, that when he had 
 inquired the reason of the banquet, he was told that it was 
 in commemoration of the happy tidings from Darien. 
 " Happy tidings !" the stranger repeated, and then, check 
 ing himself, relapsed into silence and soon afterwards took 
 his leave. 
 
 To the industrious the day brings its duties, whatever 
 joy or sorrow, or vigil or repose, the night may have 
 shrouded. The household of Torwoodlee was astir before 
 the dawn, and busied in its usual avocations. Isobel, who 
 now acted as one of the family, was, like the rest, busied 
 betimes, and it was not until late in the forenoon that she 
 could find leisure to repair to her favourite seat in the half- 
 wild garden. There she gave herself up to one of those 
 deep reveries in which the people of lost hopes are so prone 
 to indulge ; living over again and again a cherished past, 
 which never becomes trite ; which never yields its imagi 
 native interests to the real interests of waking life. Six 
 years had passed away since she had seen her Moresco 
 
DAHIEN. 345 
 
 lover, but her heart was still as true to him as if she had 
 passed all that time within a convent's wall. Not that she 
 did not feel and appreciate the love of her brave cousin, 
 and almost accused herself of his self-exile. But then 
 recollections of Alvaro would rise up rebelliously, to which 
 she began to think she must accustom herself in order to 
 overcome them a foolish thought ! 
 
 It was probably, however, that thought or it might be 
 the pleasant odours of spring and the breeze that played 
 through her rich dark hair that left a placid smile upon 
 her lip, as she yielded to weariness and sank into a light 
 slumber, that avenged itself for its banishment on the pre 
 ceding night. 
 
 While thus she slept, the dark stranger, emerging from 
 some pine-trees that sheltered the garden from the north 
 wind, drew near. He leaned upon his staff, and watched 
 her with a deep fixed gaze, full of tenderness and many 
 memories. His dark and deep-set eyes shone brightly 
 beneath black eyebrows, which, as well as his beard, were 
 tinged with gray. An ample cloak enveloped his form, but 
 could not hide its manly grace ; and the wide slouched hat, 
 then almost fallen into disuse, added to the foreign appear 
 ance of the watcher. 
 
 Every one must have observed the magnetic influence of 
 a long fixed look : in a crowded room it is so strongly felt, 
 that no eyes seek those of others long in vain : the most 
 indifferent will unconsciously feel the spell. Even in sleep 
 the same effect is frequently produced ; and poor Isobel, 
 waking slowly, seemed to find her dream continued when 
 Alvaro met her gaze. For him it was a favourable surprise, 
 for she allowed herself to be clasped in his arms before she 
 remembered that it was wrong. And when she did remem 
 ber it, it was with such confusion that her disengagement 
 was very slow. 
 
 The novelist might easily furnish words to the conver 
 sation of ejaculations that ensued ; but if his description 
 were true to nature, it would be very unintelligible. It 
 was some time before the long-parted lovers gathered from 
 one another the position in which each stood. In brief, 
 Alvaro had returned to claim his bride. He had heard in 
 Edinburgh that Isobel was betrothed to young Torwoodlee. 
 He had come to see her once more for the last time, and 
 
346 DAEIEtf. 
 
 now he learned that her engagement only existed in popular 
 rumour. 
 
 Isobel scarcely dared to ask the question by which her 
 resolution was still to be guided ; but her confidence in the 
 honour of Alvaro was so great that she was fain to believe 
 that what she wished was true. An indescribable change 
 in his manner, too, appeared to give her confidence ; and it 
 was rather to a look than to a question that Alvaro an 
 swered 
 
 " Yes ; I have learned your faith in its best school the 
 school of sorrow. When last I parted from you, I thought 
 it had been for ever. Like the fabled wanderer of my race, 
 I set forth on aimless travels ; urged onward over the world 
 by a mere impulse of unrest. Gradually my thoughts 
 assumed a settled form. I resolved to visit the great 
 cradles of all creeds, in the hope of obtaining some clue, if 
 only one of sentiment, which I might follow towards some 
 truth. I crossed the seas to Egypt : I explored with won 
 der the sublime monuments raised in honour of a con 
 temptible creed. With pride I beheld our ancient history 
 verified in the midst of their false imaginings. I followed 
 the track of our great Exodus even unto Horeb and Mount 
 Sinai, and thence, through the lands of Edom and of Moab, 
 I journeyed on to the Jordan and to holy, holy Jerusalem : 
 there is no nation like unto our nation in the possession of 
 one grand unquestioned centre of our history and our race : 
 fallen as it is, and defiled by the infidel, there is no sublimer 
 city raised with hands. Thence I journeyed on by Tiberias 
 and Samaria, by Mount Hermon and the Desert to Da 
 mascus, and on into Chaldsea and to the banks of the 
 Euphrates. There I was made prisoner by the Arab hordes, 
 and held in servitude for a year, until the faithful Ghorka 
 escaped and brought a countryman of mine from Aleppo to 
 ransom me. Among the companions of my captivity were 
 a venerable Nestorian priest, with a young granddaughter 
 who was passing fair. You need not start, Isobel; she 
 was not as fair as you, and if she were, she could not be so 
 lovely. But she was to me as a sister, and her grandsire 
 was as my father. At length, one day as she was drawing 
 water from a distant well to feed the flocks, she suffered 
 cruel wrong from a neighbouring sheikh. Our tribe arose, 
 and we avenged her well : we wiped out, in the blood of 
 
DAEIEN. 347 
 
 their last man, the wrong which even among Arabs is the 
 darkest of crimes ; but their victim drooped and pined 
 away, and at length she died. Her death was more beau 
 tiful and cheerful than the brightest life of others. I 
 listened by the hour to the comforting words and glorious 
 promises of the old priest. I then first began to know the 
 Christian's Grod the faith that finds its triumph at the 
 tomb, its fountain of rejoicing in sorrow's deepest source. 
 "We will talk more of this hereafter. 
 
 " I learned to bless my captivity, during which, with a 
 humbled heart, through many a livelong night, the Nesto- 
 rian and I sat beneath the stars which Abraham had 
 watched from the same spot. And when the rising sun 
 called us to our daily tasks, the old man would move away 
 as cheerfully to his slave-labour as if he had slept tranquilly, 
 with his living child beneath his tent. 
 
 " When Ghorka returned from Aleppo, having provided 
 means for my ransom and his own, I went thither with our 
 sheikh, and easily ransomed the old Nestorian with some 
 others of his tribe. With them, I returned to their moun 
 tains beyond Lake Van: and there I long dwelt, well 
 pleased with their pastoral life and beautiful country ; and 
 applying among them, to their great gratitude, such medical 
 skill as I long ago acquired for amusement. The old priest 
 was still my counsellor and my guide : he illustrated in his 
 own life the doctrines that he taught ; and, with profound 
 scholarship and philosophy, was able to prove as a mere 
 historical and argumentative fact, the truth which he held 
 by the stronger grasp of faith. 
 
 In the sublime scenery, and sublimer moral atmosphere, 
 that surrounded the old sage, I could have lived, I think, 
 contentedly for ever, had it not been for you, Isobel ! As 
 soon as the prescribed path to your heart was open to me, 
 I resolved to come and seek it. Have I come in vain ? " 
 
 It was some time after this momentous question had 
 been asked and replied to, that Isobel found an opportunity 
 to turn even to the next dearest object of her heart. 
 
 " Have you heard news from Darien ? " at length she 
 asked. 
 
 " Alas ! " replied Alvaro, sadly, " that brave enterprise is 
 all over now. It is known in London that the colony has been 
 starved inhumanly starved out, and before this has been 
 deserted. I did not tell you that, on my homeward way, I 
 
348 DABIEff. 
 
 visited Venice and Genoa. I there obtained some debts 
 from honest men, and forced some knaves to disgorge their 
 plunder. I am once more rich, and my first care on my 
 return to London was, to despatch a ship to my noble- 
 hearted friend's assistance ; but from what I have heard, I 
 have no hope that it will find him there." 
 
 "And my poor, poor Alice!" exclaimed Isobel, too 
 much stunned by the disastrous news to understand it all 
 at once. 
 
 "Be comforted," said Alvaro : "she was well when the 
 last intelligence of the colony was received." 
 
 " And young Torwoodlee ? " 
 
 " Of such a person I know nothing," replied Alvaro, 
 somewhat coldly ; " but his name was not among those of 
 the dead." 
 
 The fatal truth concerning Darien soon spread throughout 
 Scotland. The nation reeled under the blow. Every family 
 suffered in the great calamity. Their scanty wealth had 
 perished, as well as those for whom it had been first hoarded, 
 then expended. At Torwoodlee, the revelation of the dis 
 asters was gently broken by Isobel ; and she had yet a 
 more delicate task, in the 'same breath, to explain, that she 
 was about to become the stranger's bride. But it was 
 done ; and being once done, that sorrow took its place 
 amongst the rest. The old laird was comforted for the 
 Darien loss, as he hoped to greet his son all the sooner. 
 
 And somehow the world began to improve with him, even 
 while others suffered. The stock at Torwoodlee sold at the 
 spring fair for wonderful prices ; the timber on some dis 
 tant hills was purchased at an enormous rate by a southern 
 dealer, who was supposed to have been murdered afterwards ; 
 for though he paid his money, he never returned to cut 
 down his trees. Some faint indications of coal had been 
 discovered long before on part of the estate, and a bold 
 speculator appeared, who gave the outside value of what it 
 would have produced had it proved as rich as, in effect, it 
 was the reverse. In short, within a few months after the 
 visit of Alvaro, the ancient family of Torwoodlee was re 
 stored to all its ancestral wealth. No suspicion of the 
 Moor's agency in this change ever occurred to the old laird, 
 who now more impatiently awaited the return of his son to 
 share his prosperity. That son might now mate with the 
 proudest lady in Scotland; and though the father loved 
 
DAEIEN. 349 
 
 Isobel as a daughter, he was so far jealous of her constancy 
 to the stranger, that he gave her away to him in marriage 
 almost without a sigh. 
 
 The old manor-house by the Solway, where Paterson had 
 lived, soon assumed a cheerful aspect. Everything was done 
 to it that would not change its identity. Plantations, fences, 
 drains, and comfortable cottages were created as if by- magic. 
 Alvaro, with characteristic ardour, urged them on. The 
 old smuggler's house had fallen to decay ; it soon started 
 up in a castellated form, with strength fit for a border 
 baron, and appliances of comfort worthy of a modern 
 gentleman. 
 
 But the energies of Alvaro soon required some other 
 field of action than these benevolent toys. He satisfied 
 himself that he had done all for Paterson that he was likely 
 to tolerate, and he began to weary of the bleak and (to him) 
 lonely Solway. He was, it is true, become a Christian, but 
 still a very restless Christian. His blood was not changed, 
 and the wandering instinct of the Hebrew never yet was 
 satisfied with agricultural pursuits. In a word, Alvaro 
 repaired to London, plunged into the excitement that there 
 abounds for every one ; but especially for a man like him, 
 who had his new position to assert and to fortify. He there 
 forgot everything but Isobel and his friend Paterson, in quest 
 of whom he had despatched another ship to the nearest 
 American seaports. He soon had the melancholy satisfac 
 tion to behold him again, but as an almost broken-hearted 
 man ; lonely in the world ; his beloved wife, his comrades, 
 his cherished scheme, all gone ! 
 
 But his noble soul shone out in the midst of this desola 
 tion. JSTot a word of murmur against man, or repining 
 against destiny, escaped him. He still held his head high, 
 as beseemed one supported by elevated thought. His hair 
 was grown gray, almost white; but his eyes still shone 
 with the calm, clear light of philosophic resolution. 
 
 He had scarcely landed in Scotland, when he hastened to 
 the Council to account for the defeat of the expedition, 
 and to counsel them to new enterprises. Once more his 
 sanguine spirit communicated itself to the Company ; they 
 prepared a new expedition, and made a new appeal to the 
 justice of King William. 
 
 Paterson now proposed that the Company should assume 
 
350 DAEIEN. 
 
 an English character, two-thirds of its members to belong 
 to that nation, and one-third only to Scotland. He wrote 
 an eloquent letter in praise of the spot that had been so 
 fatal to his happiness ; and laid down plans for the conduct 
 of the future colony in the most lucid and statesmanlike 
 language. He based all his hopes on that freedom of trade 
 and freedom of conscience which was only destined to 
 obtain a consummation in far later times. 
 
 Lord Basil Hamilton was requested to lay this new pro 
 posal and petition before the king. That high-hearted 
 young nobleman accepted the unpopular mission, though 
 he had always held aloof from the Court since the Kevolu- 
 tion. He repaired at once to London. An audience was 
 refused to him, but his zeal was not to be extinguished by 
 the cold ceremony that surrounds a throne. He had the 
 wrongs of his country committed to his charge, and, at the 
 risk of the then easy prosecution for treason, he was deter 
 mined to acquit himself of the task. He watched the going 
 out and the coming in of the magnanimous but politic king. 
 At length he caught his eye : he pressed forward through 
 the crowd of courtiers as William was mounting his horse. 
 He laid the petition on his saddle-bow. The king's eagle 
 eyes flashed fire, and his stern brow was fiercely bent. 
 
 " JSTow, by heaven, this young man is too bold," he ex 
 claimed, wrathfully ; but at the same moment his nobler 
 nature reminded him how he himself had risked all things 
 for what he considered to be his country's cause, and his 
 royal brow relaxed: "That is to say, 5 ' he added, with 
 almost a gracious smile, "if a man can be too bold in the 
 cause of his country ! " 
 
 But with these words all magnanimity appeared to cease. 
 He rode on, and thenceforth his countenance towards the 
 Scottish scheme was as cold as ever. 
 
 Again the Scots sent forth a colony as ill-officered and 
 ill-ministered as before. Fanaticism assisted all other bale 
 ful agencies in counteracting the bold design. Again a 
 reinforcement was sent out under the conduct of the gallant 
 Campbell of Finab. He withstood the Spaniards, but he 
 was conquered at length by circumstances. Pestilence and 
 famine once more invaded the colony. Besieged by the 
 Spaniards, they were at length forced to capitulate, with 
 all the honours of war. So weak were they as they de- 
 
DAEIEff. 351 
 
 parted, that their brave enemies were obliged to heave up 
 their anchors for them, and to set their sails. 
 
 Thus Darien was abandoned, and with it the noblest 
 scheme of colonization that was ever planned. 
 
 CHAPTER, IX. 
 
 Acknowledge present good, or thou wilt need to learn, 
 And by its loss thy good, thy mercies to discern. 
 # # * # * 
 
 Whence is it, if the Lord, the mighty God, is high, 
 That, lifting up myself, I find Him not more nig h 1 
 
 Sabbation. 
 
 The lovely toy, so fiercely sought, 
 Hath lost its charm by being caught. 
 
 The Giaour. 
 
 OUR life is but a portion of our immortal existence, which 
 is covered over with the veil of mortality. The best and 
 brightest amongst us are those whose veils are most dia 
 phanous. 
 
 Isobel de Medina had as little of earth about her as was 
 consistent with mortal nature. Self-denial, boldly incurred 
 and long-continued, had refined and chastened her soul, as 
 the flame refines the silver until it has expelled all dross, 
 and enabled it to reflect the image of the refiner. No 
 selfishness remained to obscure the bright spirit of that 
 faithful woman ; but she may be pardoned, if, for a while, 
 she thought that her probation was ended; and that she 
 might now fearlessly trust herself to an enjoyment of the 
 love that she had so long and patiently forborne. 
 
 At first Alvaro returned, as entirely as he possessed, the 
 affection that had been so tried. His penetrating, yet 
 poetic mind, perceived and acknowledged the purity and 
 nobleness of the love that he had won. He sunned himself, 
 he basked in the light of the eyes that had been so long his 
 lode-stars. He was almost satisfied, a comprehensive 
 word, which never has wholly found its fulfilment on this 
 earth. 
 
 But Alvaro and his bride still breathed different spiritual 
 
352 DABIEtf. 
 
 atmospheres, if we may so speak. Alvaro was too truthful 
 not to have expressed to Isobel what he believed he felt. 
 But he was only historically a Christian. Deep study, and 
 admiration of the results of Christianity, had indeed led 
 him to abandon the mixture of Judaism and Atheism in 
 which he had been educated ; but he was as yet an alien, not 
 a denizen, in the new ground of faith that he had adopted : 
 he conformed to its institutions ; he submitted (as far as a 
 nature like his could submit) to its laws ; but he had not 
 acquired its spirit, its patriotism, or its self-abnegation. 
 He soon became impatient of the distinctions between him 
 self and Isobel in these matters ; and in seeking to fix that 
 difference upon her inferiority of mind to his, he gradually 
 acquired the habit of looking down, at once upon her and 
 her more spiritual creed, as if they depended on each 
 other. 
 
 The first points of the wedge of estrangement being in 
 troduced, the slightest pressure of every-day circumstances 
 conduced to drive it further. The adored in Carthagena 
 the ideal in his Eastern wanderings the all-absorbing in 
 Sandilee became the trite and at last must it be 
 confessed ? the wearisome wife in London ! 
 
 Once more Alvaro was established in his old mansion in 
 the City : once more he devoted his great energies and 
 genius to the grand schemes of commerce. And now his 
 name rose rapidly ; and he began to feel, even in a business 
 point of view, the glory of having sacrificed everything 
 formerly to the preservation of his irreproachable cha 
 racter. The European war afforded then a wide field for 
 speculation ; and Alvaro, in his dark and quiet counting- 
 house, influenced the great interests of armies as much 
 almost as the foreign minister. He would fain have in 
 duced the wise and steady Paterson to join him in his 
 new career; but when that speculative philosopher de 
 clined his offers, he was resolved to stand alone, with none 
 to share his toils or responsibilities. 
 
 Thus, at home and abroad, he was still isolated by his 
 pride, and by the dangerous confidence he maintained in 
 his own strength ; to the exclusion of confidence in aught 
 else, divine or human, except, perhaps, in his old partner. 
 To him he looked as to a preceptor: and, in truth, the 
 friend who has shared our trials in our youth, and who 
 
DARTED. 353 
 
 lias passed through them immaculate, claims an affectionate 
 fidelity, which few are base enough to betray. 
 
 Paterson had now returned to the old manor-house, 
 where he employed himself in works of beneficence, on a 
 small scale compared with the gigantic schemes of doing 
 good that he had formerly imagined. Still, however, he 
 wrought with earnestness and fidelity amongst his poor 
 neighbours, and obtained a harvest of humble love, though 
 his glorious laurels had been blighted. All the thinking 
 men of his time spoke of him with respect ; but the stigma 
 of failure was upon him, and he was no more invited to 
 take a lead in public enterprise. He would not have been 
 human if he had not felt this slight ; but it is one of the 
 graces of unselfish ambition, that its failures have no 
 bitterness. Paterson was serene and benevolent to the 
 last. 
 
 Tears rolled on, and the wrongs of Scotland at length 
 made themselves heard. A compensation for the sufferers 
 by England's policy in the Darien scheme, was decreed. 
 Paterson alone obtained no share of the tardy justice. He 
 felt that his fair fame, as well as his small means, suffered 
 by this neglect ; and he went to London to assert his 
 claims. 
 
 One evening he sat with Alvaro and Isobel in their 
 house looking out upon the Thames. It was then no 
 foul and reeking stream, but a fair river, in which the 
 swans delighted. Gay barges floated on its waters; and 
 watermen, with parti-coloured jackets, and broad badges 
 on their arms, exercised their craft in multitudes. 
 
 The merchant and his wife sat at an open window, in 
 the summer evening, and Paterson regarded them with 
 astonishment. The last time that he had seen them to 
 gether, Isobel was in the morning of her beauty, and 
 Alvaro watched her every glance with deep and eager 
 interest. Now, pale and attenuated, she sat silent and 
 unnoticed, though a beautiful child was on her knee, with 
 her own rich soft hair, and loving eyes, which glanced from 
 time to time awe-stricken towards its father. Paterson 
 laid his hand gently upon the little head, and looked at 
 its mother anxiously and wistfully ; he could not under 
 stand the problem of sorrow that was written on her 
 pale cheek. A sudden hectic flush betrayed how much 
 
354 DAKIEJT. 
 
 she felt that look, and the world of memories that it 
 awakened. Tears unbidden stood ready to fall, but re 
 strained by long habit. The evening air streamed in, and 
 aroused a hollow cough, at the sound of which Alvaro 
 turned round impatiently, and Isobel retired in haste; 
 but the sound of that cough was audible along the 
 passages, even through the closed door. 
 
 Alvaro seemed to be relieved by her absence ; and turn 
 ing cordially to Paterson, he began to speak of the business 
 that had drawn him from his solitude. 
 
 " There is another matter much nearer to my heart just 
 now," said Paterson, gravely ; for he had seen all the little 
 history of that house in one glance. " Your wife is very 
 ill." 
 
 " She's always so," rejoined Alvaro ; " always pining and 
 repining about some crotchet that has no existence except 
 in her own bigoted imagination. It's the nature of those 
 women to be miserable, I believe." 
 
 " It was not always hers," resumed Paterson ; " no living 
 creature was ever more joyous than Isobel Graeme when 
 first you knew her." 
 
 " Ah ! yes ; that was before I sacrificed myself to her, 
 body and mind, for years. But let us talk of your affairs. 
 She has everything that she can desire. I can do no 
 more." 
 
 " You had need to satisfy yourself well on that point," 
 persisted Paterson, in a solemn tone of voice. "Not as 
 you shall answer it to me, who have so little right to ad 
 vise you; but as you shall answer it to lier faithful and 
 departed spirit when nothing but that once beautiful 
 form is left to speak to you silently of bygone times." 
 
 Alvaro started as if a dagger stabbed him. "You do 
 not you dare not tell me she is dying!" he exclaimed. 
 All the dread meaning of that word burst upon his mind 
 at once. He had never suspected it. Isobel had been 
 as uncomplaining as ever. It could not, it must not be 
 true ! 
 
 He was soon by his wife's side. Now that his eyes 
 were opened, he could easily see that her life was ebbing 
 fast away. With a powerful effort he controlled, for the 
 moment, his distracting woe. He folded his vanishing 
 wife gently and timidly to his heart, and once more felt 
 
DAEIEtf. 355 
 
 the pressure of her arms. No word passed between them ; 
 they knew each other so well, and remembered so much at 
 that moment, that words were unutterable and unnecessary. 
 
 Thenceforth Alvaro never left her, except to give vent to 
 his despair in furious, hopeless paroxysms. Without such 
 outpourings, he felt as if his heart would burst. 
 
 A century and a half has passed away since poor Isobel 
 was laid, with queenly pomp, in the churchyard of Caer- 
 laveroek. For her husband it was a sad pleasure to linger 
 with the funeral in the pauses of its long journey thither. 
 
 His infant child grew up in grace and beauty, idolized 
 by her wayward but repentant father, and reaping the 
 arrears of the affection which had been withheld from her 
 mother. When next we hear of her, Eachel de Medina 
 was spoken of as the loveliest and wealthiest heiress in 
 London ; but it was only on woman's report, for no man 
 except her father had ever been in her society. 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 " Go tell my good lord," said this modest young man, 
 
 " If he will but invite me to dinner, 
 I'll be as diverting as ever I can : 
 I will, on the faith of a sinner." 
 
 As, when a ship founders at sea, the water forms a dis 
 tracted vortex for a few minutes, and the waves are tossed 
 about unnaturally; but they gradually subside, until the 
 surface of ocean is as calm over the buried wreck as over 
 the smoothest sand that ever formed a drowned seaman's 
 pillow ; so, when one of those with whom, in life's voyage, 
 we have been long familiar, disappears from our side, and 
 sinks down into the mysterious grave, we feel at first as if 
 our heart had gone down there too ; we are tossed with 
 vain imaginings and regrets, as though we never could find 
 peace again ; but those disturbances subside inevitably, 
 and no outward sign of them remains upon the surface of 
 our lives. Thus, after a few months, Alvaro was seen as 
 
 z 2 
 
356 DARIEN. 
 
 usual among the haunts of men ; his form unbent, his eyes 
 as keen as ever, his energies apparently yet greater and 
 more restless. Paterson, too, had returned to London, 
 once more to urge his claims, and to confute the calumnies 
 by which his opponents endeavoured to vindicate their in 
 justice. He was now the guest of his prosperous friend ; 
 when one day a visitor was announced to him under the 
 name of Captain Law. As he had never heard of his 
 kinsman in a military capacity, he was surprised at his 
 presence, and still more at his magnificent dress and equi 
 page. Fine gentleman as he was, however, Law had too 
 much mind of his own not to appreciate it in another ; and 
 though he looked upon Paterson as too visionary in his 
 speculations, he still respected him for their magnitude. 
 
 " That was a noble scheme of yours, kinsman! " he ex 
 claimed, with honest enthusiasm. " Is it quite dead ? " 
 
 " Aye, and buried," replied Paterson. "The land that 
 gave it birth is only haunted by its ghost, still unlaid and 
 troubling men's minds for its unrighteous death. But 
 believe me, it is only for a time. The day will come, when, 
 under a Sovereign who has conciliated the love of nations, as 
 well as that of ihe British people, the Isthmus of Panama 
 will again be peacefully invaded; and our scheme will tri 
 umph after all." 
 
 " I doubt it not," Law rejoined ; " but let later ages 
 perform what miracles they may in that respect, you will 
 have been their PIONEEE. But I am now come to talk to 
 you of another matter : you can do me a great favour by 
 making me known to Don Alvaro, with whom I have some 
 business of moment." 
 
 " Not to attempt to inveigle him into any of your schemes, 
 I hope ? " said Paterson. 
 
 " No. I am quite disinterested at present ; as far at 
 least as it is possible for any one, except yourself, to be so. 
 You remember Sir Standon Seignory, whose bonny York 
 shire mare I rode to death in your service some sixteen 
 years ago ? Well ; it is on his account that I want to pro 
 pose to Don Alvaro a not unpalatable business." 
 
 " There is no difficulty in what you desire," said Pater 
 son, " as far as relates to making Don Alvaro' s acquaintance. 
 His dinner-hour is two ; and if you there present yourself, 
 you will find yourself a welcome guest." 
 
DAEIEtf. 357 
 
 The dinner-hour came, and with it Law. He had a great 
 respect for Alvaro, as for one who achieved a great success, 
 with a reputation at the same time for wealth and liberality. 
 But he did not allow his respect to embarrass him in any 
 manner. On being presented to the great man, with a few 
 well-chosen words of indirect compliment, he took his seat 
 at his table ; and soon proceeded to unfold his unequalled 
 stores of conversation, which struck the other guests with 
 astonishment. They were, for the most part, silent men, of 
 one leading idea, which like the roc's egg, was too weighty 
 to be produced except at long intervals. But Law soon 
 extracted and then played with them as easily as if he 
 had been familiar with their particular topics all his life. 
 Alvaro at first took as little share in the conversational 
 as in the practical part of the dinner. He ate but sparingly 
 of the simplest food and drank only water, while his guests 
 indulged in the rarest luxuries then known to culinary art, 
 and in the richest wines. He only led to subjects for dis 
 cussion, or assented to the observations of others. But at 
 length, struck by some subtle paradox, which Law had started 
 as a lure, Alvaro entered warmly into its refutation ; and then 
 the object of his guest was answered : for he knew that no 
 conversational effort, in which the hearer does not take a 
 part, will ever really interest him. 
 
 At length the dinner was over ; and Alvaro, prepos 
 sessed in spite of himself by a talkative young man, retired 
 with Law to discuss the business that had brought him to his 
 house. Over their interview we must draw the curtain, 
 while we return some years in our story to account for Law's 
 intimacy with our old acquaintance, Sir Standon Seignory : 
 and to reproduce some others whose fate requires notice. 
 
 Sir Standon, as the courteous reader may recollect, was 
 a Yorkshire baronet, who, but for his Jacobinism and his 
 mortgages, would now have had as little to disturb his life 
 as any man in England. His was a brave old simple soul, 
 however, that never anticipated misfortune by anxiety, or 
 feared to meet it when it came. He had still sufficient 
 confidence in the cause of the Stuart to give him comfort 
 in his loyalty ; and he had still a sunicient command of 
 money to enable him to exercise the hospitality and the 
 charities that were associated with his very name. His 
 influence in his neighbourhood, only bounded by his own 
 
358 DAEIEN. 
 
 moderation, was felt to an extent that is seldom known 
 amongst us now ; and though, he, of course, eschewed and 
 was opposed to King William's court, he took his seat in 
 parliament as naturally as on the bench of magistrates. 
 
 Sir Standon, though himself a strict moralist, had, as we 
 have seen, been a page in the days of Charles II. ; and, 
 though a courtier, had stood up stoutly for the " unity of 
 Church and King," under his Romanizing brother, even 
 after the sentence that dismissed him from his service. At 
 length, wearied with the contradictions in which he per 
 petually found himself involved, he became disgusted with 
 the public life of the time, and retired to his fine old resi 
 dence of Hartly Chase. There, the minute but multifa 
 rious interests of a country life soon wrapped him up, and 
 estranged him from all the pursuits of his former career. 
 A brief period of wedlock, which had left him a widower 
 with an only son, still further concentrated his interests 
 on home. His large and generous sympathies found ample 
 room to expand amongst his tenants and neighbours, and 
 having once become concerned in the destinies of others, he 
 could not forsake his responsibilities. Therefore age had 
 crept over him in the seclusion of the country. Corre 
 spondence was scanty in those days, when a single post-boy 
 carried in his mail-bags all the letters for the North of 
 England ; and he gradually became forgotten by almost 
 all his former associates and friends. "When William of 
 Nassau had landed at Torbay, the news spread with that 
 mysterious and marvellous rapidity that often leaves behind 
 the fleetest post. Immediately Sir Standon prepared to 
 resist "the Dutchman," and the armory of his cavalier 
 grandfather was hastily ransacked and fitted on his tenants ; 
 hunters assumed the names of chargers, and many a stout 
 young ash was fitted as a pike-handle before the intelligence 
 of the king's dastardly abdication had reached his subjects 
 in the North. " The Dutchman" was soon firmly seated 
 on what the Whigs asserted was the vacant throne : and 
 Sir Standon, to console himself for this catastrophe, and 
 enliven a seclusion now deeper than ever, married again. 
 
 The lady of his second choice was a widow, and her cir 
 cumstances were so peculiar as to excite a good deal of 
 observation ; especially from Sir Standon' s maiden sister, 
 who had in vain endeavoured to warn him against the 
 
BABIED. 3-59 
 
 wiles of women in general, and against widow-women in 
 particular. The elderly widower had long listened to such 
 warnings with patient courtesy, if not with the respectful 
 attention that they deserved ; but a fit of the gout, super 
 induced by William the Third's triumphant entry into 
 London, had led Sir Standon to Scarborough, and beyond 
 the tutelary guardianship of his sister. The matrimonial 
 catastrophe she so much dreaded took place there in the 
 following manner. 
 
 The arrival of the wealthy baronet created great emotion 
 in the gay little town, which was even then a place of 
 fashion. Though verging upon half a century of years, 
 he wore them lightly, and every one has observed how 
 little chronology can be depended on as regards the real 
 age of man. Sir Standon was at once pronounced to be 
 young to all intents and purposes ; and he was by no means 
 displeased to find himself considered in that light. The 
 duties of a great country gentleman are very patriarchal ; 
 and they render proportionably refreshing any gentle in 
 sinuations that they have left no trace beyond the silvered 
 hair and the furrowed brow. But in truth, there seems to 
 be a perpetual spring of youthfulness in some hearts which 
 animates the whole frame. The cheerful voice, the merry 
 eye, the buoyant hope, are often found in advanced years, 
 as care and gravity are sometimes visible in early youth. 
 In short, Sir Standon Seignory was virtually younger than 
 many of his contemporaries ; and might have competed in 
 activity and strength with many who were still young, but 
 who had wasted their youthfulness in the excesses of that 
 gross and profligate age. 
 
 Sir Standon's sister was fortunately possessed of an old 
 friend and gossip, who resided at Scarborough. To this 
 lady, who eagerly responded to her friend's request of ob 
 serving and reporting upon the baronet's proceedings, I am 
 indebted, at the interval of a hundred and fifty years, for 
 an account of Sir Standon's matrimonial proceedings. It 
 must be premised that Mistress Minerva had for some time 
 devoted herself to the study of the dead languages, some 
 what to the neglect of their living rivals, the former were 
 so interestingly taught by her brother's chaplain. It is 
 true that the chaplain had married the housekeeper, and 
 
360 DAR1EN. 
 
 was removed to a distant living ; but " he must have been 
 taken in by the arts of that official," and his memory was 
 still cherished by the spinster. Miss Minerva's first letter 
 of instruction runs as follows : 
 
 " To MRS. TILLY TROYER, AT SCARBOROUGH, THESE : 
 
 " It is long, dear Tilly Trover, since we have met, but 
 between you and I, it is not my fault solely. Ever since 
 that vile parkesite made away with poor innocent Mr. Lexi- 
 cum, and made a husband and a fool of him, I have not 
 been in spirits to go anywhere ; and my brother, Sir Stan- 
 don, has been in such a taking lately about politics that our 
 proceedings have been quite cancerous, which means (for 
 you don't understand Latin) crab-like or backward. In 
 deed, I think this Penelope's web of a world is unweaving 
 every day, and all ravelling besides. Now, my brother, Sir 
 Standon, has been grievously contrarified by the late ter 
 rible doings at Whitehall, to our poor dear king and his 
 unnatural children. (How happy we must feel, dear Tilly, 
 in being free from such affiliations, though no doubt we 
 should have brought up ours better, if we had weakly run 
 the risk of being mother to Statholderesses, or any other 
 child of flesh.) I say my brother, Sir Standon, has been 
 in such a taking since the Dutch invasion of this poor 
 country that I did not like to leave him; especially as 
 young Harold, my nephew, is away to a foreign school. 
 Yet now, when he is going to visit Scarborough, I am 
 obliged to abide here, and see that his house is not entirely 
 ate up by the pampering varlets and queans that he thinks 
 it necessary to sustain ; and which I liken to a barrack-full 
 of liveried men and maids, militant against all peace and 
 proper economy. But, oh ! Tilly, I tremble to think of all 
 the dangers that my poor brother Sir Standon will be ex 
 posed to in your dissipated town, and me not there to pro 
 tect his susceptible heart from the infamous devices of the 
 man-catchers, who lie there in wait for such prey, and 
 whose iniquitous arts I know full well. On you alone, 
 Tilly, under Providence, I now rely ; not indeed to watch 
 over my poor unprotected brother, for that is the province 
 of a sister only ; but to inform me almost diurnaliy (re 
 gardless of postage expense) of his proceedings, and of the 
 
DAEIEN. 361 
 
 operations of the enemy. I hope the Eibston pippins and 
 the deer's kidneys reached you safely. Tour affectionate 
 and trusting friend, 
 
 " MINEEYA SEIGNOEY." 
 
 The reply to this epistle was carefully preserved with 
 it in the old lumber-room of Hartly Chase. It details 
 the catastrophe so prophetically dreaded by the anxious 
 sister : 
 
 " To MES. MINEEVA SEIGKNOEY, 
 
 "Had I not always had the highest opinion of your 
 mental as well as ornamental powers, my dearest and 
 honoured friend, I should have been quite astonished at 
 your foresight. Latin must surely open the female under 
 standing wonderfully, and an able tutor expand the capaci 
 ties ; and indeed the Rev. Master Lexicum was doubtless 
 a man of great parts, or he would not have acquired an 
 interest in your feelings." 
 
 [And here, be it observed parenthetically, that Minerva 
 Seignory had a kind heart, though her temper and her pride 
 prevented all, except her gossip and the poor, from giving 
 her credit for it.] 
 
 " And so, no doubt, learning is a great thing ; and as it 
 prepared you for what has happened, so I hope it will en 
 able you to bear it ; for surely enough Sir Standon is on 
 the very verge of unmitigated matrimony ! It is a widow, 
 too, and so horridly handsome, that she is sure to rule him 
 sovereignly with her large, dark, wild eyes. 
 
 "It is but a week, as you well know, since Sir Standon 
 arrived in our town, and filled everybody's attention (not 
 withstanding two shipwrecks, and a very mysterious birth 
 at No. 20, in the crescent : you know who I mean). About 
 a week before Sir Standon' s arrival, the fatal widow had 
 settled herself amongst us, with a Spanish maid and a 
 negro footman, two green monkeys, a macaw, and other 
 curiosities. The maid does not understand English, and 
 the lacquey does not, I believe, understand any human 
 tongue; so that all our endeavours to learn her particu 
 lars have hitherto been vain. Well, she spent the first 
 night at the inn, and the next day hired the lonesome 
 sort of house next the sea. There she sat in the balcony 
 
362 DAKIEtf. 
 
 in the fine evening, and sang in the most shameless man 
 ner, not that there was any harm in the song, but it was 
 wonderfully indiscreet to sing in a public watering-place ; 
 though, to be sure, she did not know there was any one 
 listening; but I did happen to be there, for I was natu 
 rally curious to know why she was not in the pump-room : 
 and as I was moving cautiously round the cliff, who should 
 I meet but Sir Standon, who was stealing towards the 
 house as fast as I was stealing away from it, and we ran 
 against one another ; and as I stumbled he caught me in 
 his arms, and I felt so strange that I ejaculated, and the 
 widow looked down from her balcony and laughed out 
 right, shameless as she was. Well, I naturally fainted, or 
 so nearly, that Sir Standon thundered at the widow's door 
 for help, and carried me in, without asking leave. Then 
 indeed the widow came down-stairs, and was quite over 
 civil with her scent-bottles, and canary wine, and peacock 
 fans. At last I recovered sufficiently to enter a sedan- 
 chair and be carried home ; but ah ! dear friend, I re 
 proached myself with my weakness as an infidelity to you, 
 for it ended by Sir Standon remaining behind in the siren's 
 very house. In half an hour after, it is true, he was at the 
 pump-room, sipping his rafcafia very composedly, and I must 
 say was very handsome in his manner, hoping I had come 
 by no harm. Soon after, enters the widow, with her foreign 
 sounding voice (though sweet it is, as must be owned), and 
 her grand gown of silk taffeta, and pearls on her neck as 
 big as white currants. She is rich, there can be no doubt 
 of that. It is not that her glass coach is of a new pattern, 
 or that her horses are from Eussia, her jennet from Spain, 
 her lap-dog from Pomerania, and nothing vulgar or English 
 about her, but there is that brightness and whiteness 
 about everything she wears, and a certain easy conscience 
 when she gives a shilling to a beggar, that gives me the 
 impression she's rich : why, I've counted her unfold three 
 clean pocket-handkerchiefs in one day, besides what she 
 might have done when I was not watching her ! "Well, the 
 minute she came into the room, Sir Standon walks up to 
 her with the highest compliments and the lowest bows. 
 He stayed by her all the time she remained, and then 
 asked leave to escort her home. So they went away, and 
 the town saw very little of either of them for two or three 
 
DAEIEN. 363 
 
 days more ; and then she was leaning upon his arm, and it 
 instantly transpired that they were to be married utterly 
 married next Sunday ! Now for the backwardness of this 
 communication to you : you must know that Sir Standon 
 made silence on the subject a particular request, saying 
 that he did not wish you to be agitated by the intelligence 
 until all was over, when he will write too ; but I thought 
 it my duty not to keep this great matter from you longer 
 than three days; and so you have it all now, and I will 
 pray that your mental capabilities may enable you to bear 
 it as it ought to be borne. 
 
 " Your affectionate friend and well-wisher, 
 
 " T. TROYER." 
 
 " P.S. I forgot to tell you about Sir Standon' s great 
 friend, Captain Law, who has been running away with 
 all the men's money and the ladies' hearts. He is to be 
 bridegroom's man, and is going away with the happy 
 couple to Hartly Chase." 
 
 "P.S. Sir Standon has just been here, in my humble 
 apartment, and bid me to the wedding, which is to be 
 very private. He asked my good wishes in such a hand 
 some manner that I could not refuse ; and indeed, with 
 so rich and beautiful a wife I think (if you approve the 
 match) there can't be much harm in it. Though none of 
 us here can tell who the lady is, she MTJST (we all now 
 think) be somebody." 
 
 Mistress Tilly Trover's letter comprises all that could be 
 said about this marriage of Sir Standon Seignory. By the 
 same post dispatch that carried Mistress Tilly Trover's 
 missive, the bridegroom sent an affectionate letter ac 
 quainting his sister with the step which he had taken, and 
 hoping that Hartly Chase would not be less, but rather 
 more, her home, henceforth, than it had always been. 
 
 The worthy simple-hearted old baronet was duly wedded 
 to the beautiful widow, and disappeared with his prize from 
 Scarborough, and all its inquisitions, accompanied by his 
 friend Law on horseback. 
 
 The newly-made Lady Seignory. was as much a mystery 
 to her bridegroom as she was to Mistress Trover, as far as 
 regarded her antecedents. Sir Standon only knew that 
 
364 DAEIEN. 
 
 she was the arbitress of his destiny; and she possessed 
 such a commanding air, that between his loving awe and 
 his punctilious courtesy, he did not dare to inquire more 
 than she was pleased to inform him. Sometimes, indeed, 
 he would seem rather wistful and curious, though more in 
 gesture than in words ; but he was always easily repressed, 
 and his bride seemed so grateful for his forbearance that 
 he almost congratulated himself in the ignorance that still 
 possessed him. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 We are Fortune's children. True, she's a fickle mother ; but she has 
 smiles in store, and her frowns are meant to brighten them. 
 
 The Gamester. 
 
 HABTLY CHASE received its master and his bride with all 
 due pomp and rejoicings. Her dark eyes brightened with 
 pride and pleasure as the noble parks and ancient woods 
 displayed themselves before her. Sir Standon had never 
 felt so proud of his possessions as when he saw them ad 
 mired by Lady Seignory. He felt proud, too, when the 
 yeoman-tenants gathered round the carriage with awkward 
 respectful eagerness to obtain a sight of her. Thousands 
 of hearty honest voices shouted her name; the sky was 
 darkened with the caps flung up ; the very ale that soon 
 flowed in rivers was neglected ; the hounds broke loose 
 from their neglected kennel, and bayed round the clamorous 
 crowds ; the deer gathered in frightened groups far off on 
 the hills among the trees ; the rooks soared high in air, 
 startled from their leafy cradles. 
 
 Mistress Minerva, arrayed in an enormous hoop, and a 
 cap like a maypole in height and profuse floweriness, awaited 
 her brother at his wide hall-door. She curtseyed in the most 
 stately manner as her new sister was presented to her, and 
 when she found herself unceremoniously caught in her em 
 brace, she almost screamed with surprise. Nor was her 
 equanimity restored when a tall dark-eyed young gentleman 
 dismounted from the horse on which he had attended Sir 
 
DAEIEN. 365 
 
 Standon's coach, and running up the hall-door steps slapped 
 the respectable spinster on the back to prevent what he be 
 lieved to be hysterics. Indeed in her embarrassment, the 
 poor lady thought it advisable to seem faint, and the young 
 gentleman in the next moment supported her to a large 
 wooden chair, thrust his plume in the hall fire, and held the 
 burnt feathers so close to her nose that she was fain to 
 come to herself quickly in order to escape the effluvia. 
 
 When the excitement consequent on these operations 
 had a little subsided, Sir Standon presented the officious 
 stranger as Captain "William Law, who, happening to be at 
 Scarborough, had officiated at the wedding, had escorted 
 the married couple, and was now come to spend some time 
 at Hartly Chase. The young stranger stood in a deferen 
 tial attitude, with hat in hand, placed upon his breast, and 
 looking down upon the ground while these particulars were 
 being narrated. Then, as it were recovering himself, he 
 bade the bride welcome in the name of all her people, called 
 for wine to drink her health, and shook hands heartily with 
 every one, and then vanished out of the door, as the newly- 
 married couple retired from the hall. His voice might soon 
 have been heard in the stable-yard, giving orders in all di 
 rections, blaming this, praising that, and finding somewhat 
 to remark upon and to alter in everything. The burly old 
 coachman attempted to make some stand against this inva 
 sion of his sovereignty, and the grooms gazed stupidly, first 
 at their accustomed officer, and then at the usurper. But 
 in the end, the young stranger's high spirits, good-humour, 
 and air of authority carried all before him. He made a 
 rapid survey of the stables, the kennels, and the falcon 
 mews ; before supper-time he had tried the paces of three 
 horses, caught a pike in one of the stews, struck down a 
 belated heron with a sleepy falcon, and drawn a badger 
 with Mistress Minerva's own pampered but still game ter 
 rier. He returned to the house crowned with all the glory 
 that the servants' hall could give. 
 
 In the evening the manor-house was thrown open to the 
 neighbours. They flocked from far and near to do honour 
 to the worthy baronet, and to gaze upon his bride. Sir 
 Standon's large heart opened freely to them all, and every 
 one found an individual welcome that brightened over them 
 long after they had passed by their host. His broad manly 
 
366 DAKIEtf. 
 
 brow was surrounded by a huge white periwig, whose ample 
 curls flowed down upon his shoulders; his ample vest, of richly 
 embroidered satin, was surmounted with a broadly-lapelled 
 ,coat, stiff with lace ; diamond buckles shone upon his high- 
 heeled shoes, and "lace that might make a cardinal jealous, 
 hung in profusion from his sleeves and low cravat. It 
 was a noble pompous style of costume that prevailed in 
 those days, with something antique in its appearance that 
 harmonized well with the ancestral pretensions of those 
 who were privileged to wear it. It required somewhat of 
 a stately presence, not to say a portly one the product of 
 generous cheer and self-satisfaction. 
 
 No one who saw Sir Standon that night, with hospitable 
 pleasure glowing in his face, and giving energy to the grasp 
 of his hand, could have supposed that care and anxiety were 
 lying in wait to seize their prey, when the pleasure of the 
 hour had ceased to render him superior to their influence. 
 
 He was superior to them for the time, at all events : and 
 as lumbering coach, and saddle-horse, and pillion poured in 
 the travellers into his halls, he was right glad and joyous, 
 and forgot his creditors and their oppression. Meanwhile 
 Captain Law (the Captain, as he was at once entitled) 
 having donned a suit of pink and silver, seemed to have 
 changed the inward with the outward man. He was now 
 ceremoniously polite to every guest, and gratuitously took 
 the task of vice-host upon himself. Amongst other arrange 
 ments, he organized, with wonderful celerity, several 
 tables for basset, ombre, and picquet ; and especially in 
 terested himself about a great table for a game of faro. 
 Having, collected elderly parties for each, he left them, 
 though with a wistful look, and devoted himself energeti 
 cally to the younger guests. " A hall " was soon made ; 
 and notwithstanding her causes for fatigue, Lady Seignory 
 was led off by her guest to dance a country-dance, which 
 she performed with extraordinary grace. She then retired 
 for the evening, and her partner returned to the ball. The 
 spirit of enjoyment is wonderfully contagious among simple- 
 hearted people ; and the young stranger himself, though 
 far from deserving that epithet, was soon absorbed in a sort 
 of revelry that he had been a stranger to since his child 
 hood. As he floated by with another partner in a minuet, he 
 was suddenly encountered by a foreign-looking man, whose 
 
367 
 
 wan face was deeply marked by weather or by temper ; and 
 presented the aspect of one who, engaged in strife, had 
 just paused to take breath. Law started for a moment 
 when he met his dark, calm gaze fixed upon him ; but soon 
 recovering himself, he observed that his panting partner 
 " must be fatigued," and led her to a seat. Then indirectly 
 approaching the person whose appearance had so struck 
 him, he exchanged a passing word, and drew carelessly near 
 to the faro-table. The players, who seemed puzzled about 
 the game, eagerly made way for him, and he at once offered 
 to keep the bank. The offer was accepted ; money was 
 poured out, and freely backed by the versatile individual, 
 who seemed more at home in his present occupation than 
 even in any of his former ones. Fortune frowned on him, 
 however ; his money was swept away, and yet his smile and 
 cheerful tone of voice was unaltered. Another bank was 
 made, and with the same result. Still smiling, the gambler 
 now turned to the dark stranger who stood behind his chair, 
 and held out his hand, in which a well-filled purse not the 
 puny purse of our days, but a portly leathern bag was 
 instantly placed. The players, now flushed with success, 
 poured out their coin more freely. The golden effigies of 
 James and William rolled together on the green field of 
 fight ; when lo ! a conquering card leaped from the bold 
 banker's hand, and transferred the spoil to him. Still Law 
 smiled, and playfully proposed revanche to all his antago 
 nists. Some rose from the table with rueful faces ; but at 
 that time, when play was so universal a passion, such places 
 \vere soon filled up. The attention of the room became 
 gradually concentred on the faro-table, where Law was 
 lavishing gold at one deal, and sweeping it up in piles 
 around him at another, with undisturbed serenity. His 
 lively conversation never flagged : he appeared to be play 
 ing solely for amusement, and never appeared to count the 
 money as he took it up : yet, when a recruiting-officer re 
 turned only nine instead of half-a-score of gold pieces, he 
 tapped the table impatiently, and cast upon his antagonist 
 a look which they who only saw his smiles would have be 
 lieved impossible; and which immediately brought the 
 offender to apologise for his "mistake." The game 
 gradually rose in excitement and intensity. The faces of 
 the players now flushed, now paled, as hope or fear pre- 
 
368 DARIEN. 
 
 vailed : aged men, with ponderous periwigs ; young beau 
 ties, with powdered locks ; swaggering captains ; rubicund 
 divines ; all lent themselves to the greatest and meanest 
 of all temporary excitements. Money rolled to and fro in 
 golden tides beneath the stirring influence : fortunes ebbed 
 and flowed ; ruin and wealth alternated in every deal. High 
 above all, sat the young accomplished gamester, still in 
 creasing in his eiforts and his power to please ; still appa 
 rently the only unconcerned person there ; still casting over 
 the whole group, and their dangerous employment, an air 
 and tone of joyous recklessness. 
 
 At length, the vehemence of the players attracted Sir 
 Standon to the scene of action. Sir Standon at once per 
 ceived, and w r ith acute regret, that the play had reached a 
 height far above the means of his worthy neighbours. To 
 him the circumstances of almost every one there were well 
 known ; and he listened with painful astonishment to the 
 hoarse, anxious voices that proffered half-a-y ear's income on 
 a single card : to such a pitch had the dealer's art stimu 
 lated their infatuation. The worthy host, too, was angry 
 at the use to which his hospitality had been perverted ; but 
 when he looked at his dangerous young friend, he could not 
 help admiring his tact, his boldness, his self-command, and 
 his vivid, yet almost imperceptible, vigilance. 
 
 The celebrated Law was then about thirty years of age, 
 very tall, slight in figure, sinewy, and active. Dark and 
 glowing eyes and black brows surmounted a bold aquiline 
 nose : his aspect would have been stern, but for the sweet 
 ness of his smile : his manner was irresistible ; it seemed at 
 the same time to command and to sue for the interest which 
 he never failed to excite. His volubility was marvellous, 
 not only in quantity, but in the quality of what he uttered. 
 His conversation, his air, the very tones of his voice, seemed 
 to inspire confidence, and to promote that sort of gaiety 
 which intoxicates. 
 
 Sir Standon, always a man of good purpose, but always 
 infirm in it, turned away, and the game went on rapidly as 
 before ; ruin and despair working darkly under the smiles 
 and sparkling sallies that made the gambling party seem 
 all-joyous to the thoughtless eyes of the lookers-on. Gold 
 still flowed towards the bold " banker," and more than once 
 the encumbering piles of the precious metal had been swept 
 
DAEIEN. 369 
 
 away, and transferred to the insatiable pockets of the dark 
 stranger who stood behind the young gambler's chair. 
 When money was exhausted, watches, rings, necklaces, ear 
 rings, were staked against the dangerous decoy of the 
 banker's solid rouleaus ; and almost always with the same 
 results. One mere boy, whose dress and style seemed to 
 bespeak a foreigner, and who had hitherto stood aloof, 
 watching the game with grave but eager eyes, stepped 
 forward as Sir Standon retired, and placed a pocket-book 
 on the board. The banker, good-humouredly shaking his 
 head, declined to play against an unknown stake ; the 
 player quietly withdrew his book, and was about to return 
 it to his pocket, when the banker consented, as if reluc 
 tantly, to accept his challenge. The book was again thrown 
 upon the table, and again the dealer gave out his cards. 
 The boy thrust his right hand inside his vest, and looked 
 calmly on. His card turned up a winner and he slowly 
 unclasped his stake. Two new bank-notes for five hundred 
 pounds were seen reposing in the leaves. As his fingers 
 unfolded the paper, Law's quick eyes observed that those 
 small fingers were tinged with blood : in the interval of 
 suspense, they had dug into their owner's flesh, as he stood 
 in apparent carelessness, with his hand seeming to repose 
 upon his heart. The captain, with a smile bright as ever, 
 and complimentary of the courage and coolness of his 
 young adversary, pushed over towards him ten piles of 
 gold, one hundred pieces in each. The winner then 
 entered systematically into the game, which acquired a new 
 impulse from the temporary check that the bank had re 
 ceived. 
 
 Sir Standon again approached the table in painful sus 
 pense and doubt. If he interrupted the game, the losers 
 would think themselves aggrieved : if he allowed it to con 
 tinue, he trembled for the consequences. 
 
 At length an incident decided him : the boy, who kept 
 his back carefully turned towards the baronet, speedily 
 lost all his winnings, and a considerable part of his own 
 capital besides. Impatiently he placed the whole remaining 
 sum on one card. He lost, and rose from the table, still 
 perfectly self-possessed ; but the paleness that all along had 
 pervaded his face, now extended to his lips. He slowly folded 
 up the empty pocket-book, and was moving away among 
 
 A A 
 
370 DAETEK. 
 
 the crowd, when the captain also rose from the table, 
 motioned to the dark man who had stood beside his chair, 
 to take his place, and followed the retreating steps of his 
 boyish opponent. He overtook him ere he left the room ; 
 and after a few words, took his arm, and walked out upon 
 the terrace with him. 
 
 When the new banker had begun to deal the cards, Sir 
 Standon interposed and requested that the game might 
 cease. The stranger haughtily refused ; alleging that his 
 friend's honour was concerned in giving the losers their 
 revenge, and that no gentleman would be justified in inter 
 fering at such a time. Sir Standon rejoined ; but the 
 banker proceeded to deal. Many of the guests, in com 
 pliance with their host's wish, now rose from the table ; 
 some, rendered desperate, sat still and called on the banker 
 to proceed. Sir Standon, pale with anger, but restraining 
 himself to the courtesy which was to him a perfect law, 
 advanced towards the audacious stranger and addressed him 
 very gravely : 
 
 " I am at a loss, sir," he said, " to understand your con 
 duct; I am still more at a loss to understand to what 
 circumstance I am indebted for the honour of seeing you 
 in my house ?" 
 
 The stranger for a moment fixed his eyes angrily on Sir 
 Standon, and replied : 
 
 " Tour friend .and mine, the captain, will explain all that. 
 He will tell you that I did not enter this house uninvited ; 
 and I can tell you that your future fate depends very much 
 upon my will." 
 
 Sir Standon' s ire was now effectually roused, not so much 
 "by the gambler's proceeding with his deal, as by the impu 
 tation on his want of courtesy, and the insinuation that he 
 was in the stranger's power. Just as he was about to 
 speak, however, the captain stood by his side, laid his 
 hand deprecatingly on his arm, and walked up to the 
 stranger. 
 
 "Have you not heard our worthy host?" he exclaimed. 
 " Sir Standon Seignory desires that the play should cease." 
 
 " And Count Monti desires that the play should go on, 
 and that these worthy gentlemen should not have reason 
 to consider themselves robbed," retorted the stranger, very 
 haughtily. 
 
DAEIEtf. 371 
 
 " Then the count will do me the honour of giving me the 
 first card," rejoined the captain, very blandly, as he sat 
 down to the table, and without opposition separated half 
 the winnings from the banker's side to his own. The count 
 hesitated for a moment, and then tried to telegraph his. in 
 subordinate friend by looks which were quite lost upon the 
 impassive, ever-smiling captain. 
 
 "Come, come, count," he exclaimed, "the game waits: 
 there's a thousand to invite you." 
 
 The other players eagerly backed the bold challenger, 
 and the sum was soon doubled. In order to arrest the 
 movement, the count declared that the game was made, 
 and dealt. For once the captain was silent and abstracted ; 
 he watched with vivid and unwinking eyes every movement 
 of the dealer, who evidently quailed beneath his scrutiny. 
 The cards flew forth. 
 
 The count lost ! 
 
 The captain doubled his stake ; the other players imi 
 tated him. The stake was now immense ; the excitement 
 became general, Crowds pressed round the table, and even 
 Sir Standon, notwithstanding his ire and discomposure, bent 
 all his attention to the game. Almost every eye was fixed 
 on the captain, whose hands seemed to manage his cards 
 without supervision ; his brilliant eyes actually glowed with 
 the earnestness of his watchfulness as the count dealt 
 again. It would have been impossible for any legerdemain 
 to baffle that keen scrutiny. 
 
 Again the cards flew forth ; the count lost, and with 
 clenched teeth distributed all his remaining gold among the 
 winners. He was obliged to begin with the captain, and 
 he had not enough to finish with the other players. An 
 angry and scornful murmur began to be heard. The cap 
 tain pushed over a pile of gold to his friend. The winners 
 were all paid. The game was over, and the captain, rising 
 from the table, apologised gaily and gracefully to his 
 host for having even for a little while transgressed his 
 commands. 
 
 But the worthy baronet was overjoyed he grasped the 
 captain's hand warmly, and declared his obligation to him 
 was immense. 
 
 " Not only," he added, " have you put a stop to that in 
 solent fellow's career, but my excellent, though very poor 
 
 A A 2 
 
372 DAEIEUT. 
 
 friend there, has been saved from ruin, I suspect, by the 
 two last deals." 
 
 " Excellent sir," replied the captain, " as I was the unfor 
 tunate occasion of the count's trespass on your hospitality, 
 I was at least bound to prevent his causing you annoy 
 ance. But, in truth, as he was the person of whom I spoke 
 a,s willing to advance you the money you required, I took 
 the liberty of writing to him at York to come hither on 
 this occasion. He is now chafed, and is one not easily 
 soothed. I must try however to appease him, with your 
 permission." 
 
 So saying, the chevalier bowed, and withdrew, followed 
 by the eyes of all. 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 Aye ! and hadst thou eyes behind thou miglit'st see detraction 
 following th.ee, as fortune before. Twelfth Night. SHAKSPERE. 
 
 THE party dispersed soon after midnight, and soon were 
 widely scattered over the surrounding roads and lanes, each 
 family or group on its homeward way, and each making the 
 captain, as well as Sir Standon, their chief subject of dis 
 cussion. 
 
 Meanwhile, the former followed the angry count along a 
 moonlit terrace towards a little inn in the village, where his 
 horses were awaiting him. The count heard his steps, but 
 proceeded in angry silence on his way. The captain grasped 
 him by the shoulder, and addressed him in a low deep 
 voice, very different from the joyous tones by which he had 
 fascinated the attention of Sir Standon's guests. 
 
 "Monti!" said he, "what mean you by this petulance, 
 this sulky humour so unworthy of the genius and the 
 mind that has subdued thousands, yet cannot control 
 itself?" 
 
 The count turned hastily round, shook off the hand that 
 pressed his arm, 'and flinging aside his cloak laid his hand 
 upon his sword. At the same moment that of the chevalier 
 glimmered in the moonlight ; he was evidently only on his 
 
DAEIEN. 373 
 
 guard, however, and he resumed his speech in the same calm 
 voice : 
 
 "You have already sufficiently outraged this hospi 
 table house; do not consummate your unseemly folly by 
 a brawl." 
 
 The captain spoke thus, for he knew that it would be 
 easier to soothe down a new asperity than arrange the old 
 one. He continued 
 
 " You need not talk defiance to me, Count Monti ; 
 we both know that there is little love between us, but 
 to-morrow morning you will be of my opinion, that it 
 is better to resume our former footing than to squabble 
 about a game of cards. I shall call on you early at the 
 village inn : if I find you have not waited for me, I shall 
 hold our partnership dissolved, and you know which of us 
 will be the greatest sufferer thereby. Meanwhile, as I 
 played to-night by your desire, the winnings shall be yours. 
 There is the contents of the bank ! " 
 
 So saying, the captain held out the purse, or rather a 
 bag of gold, to his hesitating confederate, who firmly put it 
 from him, and stalked away in silence. The captain flung 
 it contemptuously after him, and returned towards the 
 Jiouse. He well knew that the money would not be thrown 
 away. 
 
 As he drew near the house, where some lights still re 
 mained unextinguished, he encountered the boy who had 
 staked his pocket-book and lost it at the faro-table. 
 
 " I could not rest," said the boy, " without once more 
 expressing to you my warmest thanks for your unparalleled 
 generosity this evening ; at the same time I have to apolo 
 gise for unintentionally acting as a spy upon you ; but 
 as I watched for you, I observed you following yon 
 angry stranger, and thinking I might be useful in case 
 of a quarrel, I remained near enough to hear your con 
 versation." 
 
 " Humph ! and what did you think of it ? " was the 
 reply ; " but I need not ask ; I see that you deem it 
 strange that a man who could restore a thousand pounds to 
 a stranger should be in league with a scoundrel. Well! so 
 it is. I have known him for years, and I could laugh to see 
 him a beggar : I never saw you till to-night, but I could 
 .not make up my mind to ruin you. I read your character 
 
374 DAKIEtf. 
 
 in your countenance and in your bearing at the card-table. 
 I saw that you were made for better things than the despe 
 rado or the suicide that my work might at length have 
 caused you to become. Nay, do not frown or start ; I am 
 still young, though double your age ; but I have lived with 
 my eyes and ears open, and my thoughts intent on every 
 look, and word, and tone of my fellow-men. It is on this 
 that I have lived and made a fair fortune with fair repute. 
 Hereafter you may know me better, and understand my 
 relation with the sharper who has just left us. One favour 
 I have to ask of you for the present : and for the rest 
 whither are you going ? " 
 
 " I intend to remain here perhaps in this very house ; 
 and for the favour, anything not injurious to my honour 
 that I can ever do for you, you may swear is done." 
 
 " (rood ! Then swear to me on that honour you are so 
 chary of, that you will never again touch cards or dice ? I 
 see that you are as yet a stranger to their accursed ex 
 perience. I shudder to think what you would have to go 
 through before you could use them as safely as I do." 
 
 The young boy, with a wondering look, gave solemnly the 
 required promise, and then timidly implored his strange 
 companion at least to take back half the winnings he had so 
 generously refunded. 
 
 " Not a stiver of it," exclaimed the captain ; " nor need 
 you feel under any obligation to me. I did not observe, 
 when I dealt to you, that the cards had just been ' made ' 
 by that scoundrel behind my chair. I only knew it when 
 the ace turned up : it had no business to be there. If you 
 and your elder fellow-players had not been too excited, you 
 would have seen that it was already played. There 
 enough of this. "We may yet be friends." 
 
 So saying, the gambler shook hands with his convert, and 
 returned to the house. 
 
 The next morning, before the dew was off the grass, our 
 captain betook himself to the village ; he tracked his own 
 footsteps and those of the count along the dewy terrace, 
 and a contemptuous expression passed over his handsome 
 countenance when he observed that the steps of his con 
 federate had returned to where the rejected bag had lain. 
 
 " Mean-spirited villain! " he muttered ; "though rolling 
 in ill-gotten wealth, he could not resist the lure that ren- 
 
DAKIEtf. 375 
 
 dered his anger and his conduct alike contemptible." He 
 reached the inn : the count was just gone. He might be 
 easily overtaken. The captain's hand was on the stable- 
 bell as he reflected for a moment, with knitted brows. In 
 another moment he turned away, and walked back towards 
 Sir Standon's house, with his usual light and unconcerned 
 air. 
 
 Breakfast was late, so late as eight o'clock, to the great 
 distress of Mistress Minerva, who had been fidgeting 
 about the house long before. She assured the captain, 
 who was already in her good graces, that she had never 
 remembered such a late breaking of fast since she first 
 knew Hartly Chase ; but she checked herself as she was 
 about to state the length of that epoch, as it synchronised 
 with his own existence. " And Sir Standon not even yet 
 makes his appearance!" she continued; "I am not sur 
 prised at his fair lady wife giving herself lie-a-bed airs ; 
 but really, at his time of life, Sir Standon ought to know 
 better how to conduct himself." 
 
 At that moment her brother entered, holding in his hand 
 an open letter. He looked embarrassed ; and in his man 
 ner of saluting his guest there was more formality than he 
 had yet exhibited. But the captain was not easily discon 
 certed. He saw at a glance that the letter was in Monti's 
 handwriting, and he took that refuge in truth, which a 
 coward would have sought in falsehood. 
 
 "I see, Sir Standon," he exclaimed, cheerfully, "that 
 you are in correspondence with the sharper who last night 
 attempted to abuse your hospitality. I know him well, 
 and am glad to observe, by his writing to you, that he has 
 freed you from his presence." 
 
 " I thought I thought that you said he wc,3 a friend of 
 yours ?" hesitatingly observed Sir Standon. 
 
 " He has been, I regret to say, an associate of mine, in 
 some of those places which it would have been wiser to 
 avoid. But until last night I never believed him capable 
 of dishonourable practices. We have been lately holding 
 a bank of faro in partnership, and last night he placed in 
 my hand a pack of cards which might have compromised 
 my honour. I paid back what I had unfairly won, and 
 followed my partner to demand an account of the trans 
 action. "We quarrelled, of course." 
 
376 DARIEN. 
 
 "And there is the result!" exclaimed Sir Standon, 
 greatly relieved, as he tossed over the letter to his guest, 
 who read thus: 
 
 " SIE STAKDON SEIGNORY, 
 
 " This is to inform you that you are extending your 
 hospitality to one of the most dangerous and unworthy 
 of men. I endeavoured last night to arrest his career of 
 knavery; but your hastiness prevented me. I know the 
 man I speak of well, and warn you to beware of him. I 
 shall have the honour of seeing you again ere long. Keep 
 this letter secret, and watch him closely. 
 
 " Tour most humble Servant, 
 
 " MONTI." 
 
 The captain smiled scornfully as he read, and returned 
 the letter. " You will be spared the trouble of watchful 
 ness, Sir Standon," he observed, " for I must take my leave 
 of you to-day. This Monti, as he calls himself, has the 
 power to do me injury in London, and evidently does not 
 lack the will. I must, therefore, thank you heartily and 
 hastily for all your kindness and hospitality, and now take 
 my leave." 
 
 Law had become acquainted with Count Monti at Genoa 
 during one of his few reverses of fortune. Monti, who had 
 admired his skill, and, still more, his good fortune in play, 
 took an opportunity of offering him fifty thousand crowns, 
 on condition that the fortunate Scot should enter into a 
 partnership with him for a year. Law, sorely pressed for 
 money, accepted the proposal, and the partners had made 
 a successful faro campaign at Venice, Paris, and Amster 
 dam. Thence, crossing over to England, fortune had like 
 wise favoured them in London ; and they had been making 
 a tour of the provinces, when, from York, Law was tempted 
 to make an excursion to Scarborough. There he resumed 
 his old acquaintance with Sir Standon Seignory, who had 
 confessed to him his desire to obtain a loan of money. 
 Law, knowing that Monti possessed a large sum, proposed 
 to him to invest it in a mortgage on Sir Stand on's property. 
 Hence the meeting and subsequent events at Hartly Chase. 
 
 On his arrival in London, Law found, as he expected, 
 that Monti had revived the old prosecution against him, on 
 
DAHIEN. 377 
 
 account of his duel with "Wilson; and this once more 
 obliged him to leave England ; but he had learned enough 
 of Monti's former history to obtain his expulsion at the 
 same time ; and the adventurers met at Paris without any 
 mutual surprise, where they renewed a sort of offensive and 
 defensive league of neutrality, notwithstanding all that had 
 passed before. 
 
 We now return to the breakfast-table at Hartly Chase, 
 to which Lady Seignory at length descended, and was very 
 formally greeted by Miss Minerva, who intended that her 
 manner should imply a civil reproach for her ladyship's 
 late hours. 
 
 Soon afterwards Sir Standon withdrew to the terrace, 
 where he observed a youth asleep upon a bench within an 
 arbour. He drew gently near, but the boy rose suddenly, 
 and to his surprise he beheld his son Harold, whom he 
 believed at that moment to be pursuing his studies on the 
 banks of the Rhine. As soon as the first glad greetings 
 were over, Harold explained that, having been threatened 
 with punishment for refusing to betray one of his com 
 panions, he had run away from his preceptor. Sir Standon 
 was so pleased to see his son, that he forgave his offence 
 against discipline, and the boy himself, without opposition, 
 was installed in all his old possessions and amusements at 
 the Chase. 
 
 Lady Seignory soon becajne acquainted with the events 
 of the past night, and they led to a confession of Sir Stan- 
 don's pecuniary difficulties. She seemed pleased rather 
 than otherwise on hearing of them, and told her husband 
 that she had sixty thousand pounds at his disposal. This 
 agreeable intelligence placed the baronet at ease in one 
 respect ; but it deprived him, as he conceived, of all control 
 over a wife so richly endowed and so liberal. 
 
 Thenceforth the lady had everything her own way ; and, 
 indeed, she was one of those peculiar persons who would 
 have ruled as despotically in a fisherman's hut as in the 
 precincts of Hartly Chase. Mistress Minerva and she, of 
 course, soon came into collision, which terminated in the 
 defeat, and finally in the retreat, of the former. She fled 
 to her sympathising friend, Mistress Trover, at Scarbo 
 rough, and found some consolation in dwelling on the ful- 
 
378 DAEIEtf. 
 
 filment of her anticipations concerning marrying ladies, and 
 the still more fatal section marrying widows. 
 
 Lady Seignory at first tried to win her step-son's affec 
 tion, but in vain. The resolute boy always refused to give 
 her the epithet of mother, and gradually estranged himself 
 from her imperious society. Sir Standon bore with his 
 wife more patiently, and bowed his head to a temper which, 
 daily developing itself, took from the love he still bore her 
 most of its charms, and all its consolations. He had found 
 only a temporary relief even in her fortune ; but his having 
 spent it neutralised the faint attempt at resistance that he 
 might otherwise have made. When this was confessed, 
 there was a new reason for not contradicting the despot 
 of his household. His affairs were again become embar 
 rassed, and that additional trial (in which his wife was the 
 last person from whom he thought of receiving sympathy) 
 bore heavily upon him. But a climax was approaching. 
 
 It was the custom at Hartly Chase to afford refreshment 
 to every wayfarer who turned out of his road to seek it. A 
 bench, with a roof, was provided for such poor travellers 
 near the kitchen door, and there was ever a trencher of 
 meat and a mug of ale ready for them. One day a sailor 
 presented himself to the notice of the steward, and received 
 the usual hospitalities. He had a budget of news, which 
 he related in so amusing a manner that the steward, per 
 ceiving his respectable appearance, invited him into the 
 buttery to have a toast and a cup of mulled ale. 
 
 The sailor was a kind of philosopher, it appeared, and 
 withal a little curious. He inquired of the steward what 
 sort of character his mistress bore. The domestic opened 
 his stores of information freely, and did not draw a very 
 flattering portrait. 
 
 " Sometimes," he said, " she gets up at the wrong side o' 
 the bed, as they say ; and then the whole house soon knows 
 of it. She comes down-stairs in such a combustible state, 
 that she catches fire at the first word, which is generally 
 some mild observation of Sir Standon' s. On him falls the 
 first weight of the storm, spoiling his breakfast, souring his 
 cream, and sending him away to his sport or his business 
 half-fasting. Then she rushes up to the work-room ; house 
 keeper's sobs and sempstresses' wail immediately ensue. 
 
DAEIEN. 
 
 Then she sweeps along down the stairs, when the house 
 maid receives her portion of the ' anger wind,' as her nigger 
 calls scolding. The footmen shut themselves up in the 
 pantry, the butler rushes out of the house on some busi 
 ness ; poor cook, however, has 110 retreat, though her 
 kitchen-maids desert her for the darkest corner of the 
 scullery. But cook is equal to the trial ; her temper is as 
 sharp as her tongue sharper than that of her mistress. 
 She shows fight ; ' yhe won't be put upon ; ' and the missus 
 recoils from the attack, parleys, compromises, and retires 
 to her own apartment well breathed, and, upon the whole, 
 seeming well satisfied with her morning's work." 
 
 " Bad enough," replied the seaman; "a sort of purga 
 tory from which no saintly prayers can save. The sinner 
 is the man, depend on't, to stop that sort of thing. When 
 a woman's temper is squally, you must look out, and luiF 
 up into it, or you're down on your beam-ends to a cer 
 tainty. In man, anger is foolish enough, but in woman it's 
 downright insanity and indecency : it's far kinder to the 
 poor critters to bring them up at once with a round turn, 
 than let 'em run on to the ruin of our peace, and their own 
 souls, maybe." 
 
 The steward, who was himself a married man, responded 
 to this sentiment very heartily, and took leave of his way 
 faring friend with regret. The latter, heaving his bundle 
 on his back, and grasping a stout oaken stick, proceeded on 
 his journey. 
 
 Soon after this, Lady Seignory was sitting on the bench 
 where her step-son had been discovered asleep by his father. 
 The terrace was now her favourite haunt, and, in conse 
 quence, it was deserted by every living creature to whom 
 peace was dear. A clipped yew hedge supported the back 
 of the bench on which the lady sat. She remained for some 
 time musing, and, apparently, in far from a happy mood. 
 Yet she was mistress of all that her heart could desire, as 
 far as the world knew. But how little does that world 
 know! A desolate and embittered heart lay hid within 
 her still beautiful bosom ; and its reflection was now visible 
 on her countenance. 
 
 Suddenly she started. Her eyes shone with excitement/ 
 A trembling seized her. Again ! She had twice heard a 
 well-known voice. 
 
380 DAEIEN. 
 
 " Marina ! " she heard once more uttered, and the sailor 
 stood before her. She did not scream or faint, but she turned 
 deadly pale ; and her first impulse was to cast a searching 
 glance all round, to ascertain that no other eye beheld her 
 consternation and her shame. She then addressed the 
 stranger in Spanish. 
 
 " Evil genius as you have ever been to me, what brings 
 you here ? Do you still envy me my happiness ? Do 
 you desire my wealth ? Take what you can, and be gone, 
 for the love of heaven. 
 
 The stranger, instead of obeying her, threw himself 
 with careless ease beside her, and replied in the same 
 language : 
 
 " A truce, amiga mia, with your tears ! I come to talk to 
 you on business. I have lived a little too long to be senti 
 mental. Now, Marina, I have behaved very handsomely to 
 you, you must confess. I have left you almost all your 
 money, though by law justly mine. You have had your 
 amusement, your luxury, and your loves ; and I have been 
 living a hard life of it by sea and land. I have lately had 
 a confounded run of ill luck, and I want a few thousands to 
 set me up again. Nay, now I speak of it, you yourself, 
 with those eyes, and that voice of yours, would be of con 
 siderable use to me. Yes! yes! we will set up a faro 
 bank, and roam over Europe together ; and we'll have your 
 dowry besides. Get away, and put on your travelling 
 clothes. I have got a chaise at the end of the wood waiting 
 for you, and I can prosecute my claims on your soi-disant 
 husband as well at a distance." 
 
 Marina looked steadily in the face of her evil genius, as 
 she called him, and sought for some gleam of hope there ; 
 but there was none. Hard, and ruthless, and resolute he 
 was ; and an angry fire was kindling in his eyes as she 
 hesitated. 
 
 " Begone ! " he shouted, in a voice of thunder. " Death ! 
 do you think that I am to be trifled with and trampled 
 on, like the old dotard you've been living with ? " 
 
 The temper of the woman quailed before the ferocity of 
 the man; and she obeyed as meekly as Alice would have 
 done. Just then, the stranger perceived Sir Standon 
 alighting from his horse ; and he proceeded fearlessly to 
 meet him. The baronet returned his salute courteously, 
 
DAEIE2T. 381 
 
 and prepared himself to listen to some demand for assist 
 ance. The stranger abruptly addressed him : 
 
 "Do you know, Sir Standon, the history of that lady 
 who has just entered your house ? " 
 
 " Sirrah!" exclaimed Sir Standon, haughtily ; "I never 
 desire to know anything of that lady, except from her own 
 lips." 
 
 " Sir Standon," persisted the stranger, " I must be plain 
 with you. You may observe that I am not in a dress 
 suitable to my condition. I ask your pardon for pre 
 senting myself before you in disguise. I thought that I 
 might have done my business here unnoticedly, and not 
 have disturbed your peace ; but I have changed my mind. 
 That lady is my wife ; and I now claim her." 
 
 "O save me! save me from him!" shrieked the un 
 happy woman, running out upon the terrace, and throwing 
 herself on Sir Standon' s neck. 
 
 " Seize this villain ! " shouted Sir Standon, to half-a- 
 dozen servants, who now appeared at the hall-door. They 
 rushed upon the stranger; half-a-dozen dogs began to 
 bark; peacocks screamed; Sir Standon swore; the lady 
 shrieked ; but the stranger's voice was heard over all the 
 din, pitched in a tone that few had ever heard without 
 quailing. 
 
 " Stand off! " he shouted. " By heaven, the first man 
 who touches me dies ! " 
 
 As he spoke, he drew from his doublet a long, keen 
 knife, that glittered in the eyes of his assailants like a flash 
 of lightning. The menials recoiled. Sir Standon wrath- 
 fully drew his sword ; and throwing off" the arms that clung 
 to him, was about to rush upon the audacious stranger. 
 But just then a new actor appeared upon the stage. Young 
 Harold, returning from shooting, and seeing the tumult, 
 had hastened to the spot, with his gun still in his hand. 
 
 "Hold, father!" he exclaimed: "and let it not be said 
 that you refused justice at your own door. Surely this 
 man must have some right, or he would not put it forth 
 so boldly, and against such odds." 
 
 " Here is a mere boy," exclaimed the stranger, "who has 
 more sense than you all put together. Marina! answer 
 me before the eyes of heaven are you not my wife ? " 
 
382 DAEIEtf. 
 
 The unhappy woman, collecting all her energies for one 
 last venture, appealed to Sir Standon. : 
 
 "Whatever may be the result of this most cruel trial," 
 she said, in a low firm voice, " I have not wronged you, 
 Sir Standon. I may not have been I have not been to 
 you the wife that your gentleness and generosity might 
 well have made me; but I thought this wicked man was 
 dead long years ago. It is true too true, that he married 
 me ; but it was by force, and when his life was forfeited by 
 a great crime. Sir Standon, you see before you the blood 
 stained buccaneer Lawrence, whose crimes have filled the 
 ear of Europe. "Will you deliver me into his power ? " 
 
 "No! by mine honour!" interrupted Sir Standon: "he 
 shall first expiate his crimes on an English scaffold, if there 
 is force in our English law." 
 
 "Hold a moment!" said the buccaneer; "my wife has 
 acknowledged me as her lawful husband, yet you appeal 
 against me to your law. She has told you that I am a 
 buccaneer, and an outlaw. I am now a Chevalier of the 
 order of St. Louis, conferred by my gracious sovereign, and 
 G-overnor of the Island of Tortuga." (Here he uncovered 
 his breast, and showed a decoration.*) " I am also Count 
 Monti, by the decree and recognition of the Venetian 
 States, for services rendered by me on their seas. And 
 now Sir Standon Seignory, once more I demand my wife, 
 uoder my true name, and right, and title." 
 
 Sir Standon was staggered by this assertion, but he 
 replied, 
 
 " You must prove your words, sir ; and, in the first place, 
 answer me, why did you never make this bold claim 
 before?" 
 
 " That is my affair," replied Lawrence. " Nevertheless, 
 I will answer you. This lady ran away from me to Cartha- 
 gena, whither I could not openly follow her, as my life at 
 that time would have been forfeited. Besides, I had then 
 other views, in consequence of which I left her to pursue 
 her own devices : I even allowed to be transmitted to her, 
 by a Scotch adventurer, large sums which I might have 
 
 * A fact. Lawrence was promoted, like Morgan, to a command in 
 this French island, and decorated at the same time. 
 
BABIED. 383 
 
 kept. I then understood that she had been burned in Don 
 Felipe's house, and I only lately, and by accident, tracked 
 her to her present position. I have no time, nor inclina 
 tion, to say more. Marina ! once more I summon you to 
 accompany me, if you would not have this scene made 
 public, and be handed over to me by the power of that law 
 which your protector is so ready to evoke." 
 
 Marina saw that all was over. Such, too, was her 
 peculiar temperament, that she was partly won by the 
 bold determination and gallant bearing of the buccaneer. 
 At all events she made a merit of the necessity, and gave 
 her hand to her fierce claimant. 
 
 "I yield," she said; "and it may be that I am more 
 fitted to be the wife of one who knows how to win me, than 
 of one who, I see by his hesitation, is unequal to the effort 
 of protecting me." 
 
 Such was Sir Standon's guerdon for a patience and gene 
 rosity that have often since met with a similar reward ; and 
 have deserved it, too, by abandoning the natural and right 
 ful rule that belongs to them. 
 
 That evening, when Sir Standon and his son Harold 
 were sitting together in the old oak-panelled hall, the 
 events of the morning of the last two years seemed like 
 a dream. That beautiful, despotic woman, had come and 
 gone, and left no trace ; except, perhaps, in the more 
 silvered hair and more subdued bearing of the weak but 
 worthv man who had called her wife. 
 
 CHAPTEE, XIII. 
 
 What you can do, or think you can, begin it : 
 Boldness has genius, power, magic in it; 
 Only BEGIN, and once the mind grows heated, 
 The task speeds on, and soon will be completed. 
 
 Hyperion. 
 
 THE following morning, a dapper little man, dressed in 
 black, with a crisp wig, sought an audience of Sir Standon. 
 He represented himself as an attorney, and presented a 
 
384 DABlEtf. 
 
 claim on behalf of Lawrence Count Monti, for sixty thou 
 sand pounds ! 
 
 Harold was with his father when this claim was made. 
 He had long suspected his difficulties, but he saw them con 
 firmed in the look of blank despair that overspread the 
 naturally joyous countenance of the old baronet. The 
 attorney, having discharged his commission, retired, and the 
 father and son were left alone. 
 
 After a pause, the poor youth said timidly, " Father, I 
 do not wish to intrude upon your confidence, but I fear 
 that this is a very inconvenient demand upon you. I can 
 help you a very, very little ; but do not refuse that little. 
 When I was in Germany, you allowed me five hundred 
 pounds a year ; but I found that all my comrades lived upon 
 a mere trifle, and I thought it was not handsome to affect 
 a superior style of living. So I lived like them, and I have 
 a thousand pounds, which I had lost to that very count the 
 night that Master Law was here, but he generously restored 
 it to me, as he saw the play w r as unfair. Father, take this 
 trifle, such as it is, and let me help you in any more effi 
 cient way that I can." 
 
 "When the feelings are strongly excited, any plaintive ap 
 peal is strongly felt, and Sir Standon now burst into a flood 
 of tears. 
 
 " My boy, my darling, generous boy ! I would not for 
 all this money twice told, have lost this proof of your affec 
 tion. But there is nothing, nothing that I cannot settle 
 after a little time ; and I trust this old hall will yet see you 
 its master, unshorn of power, to follow the dictates of your 
 heart. But I must now ride to York, and settle with these 
 knaves." 
 
 So the old gentleman called for his boots and blood bay 
 mare, and rode off with a heavy heart to York. He had 
 been on the point of confessing all his difficulties to his son, 
 but a mistaken fear of giving pain, and a vague, but still 
 sanguine hope that "something would turn up," restrained 
 him ; and he once more drew back the gloomy secret to the 
 recesses of his burdened brain. 
 
 Meanwhile young Harold paced to fro upon the terrace, 
 revolving in his mind all that had passed. He instinctively 
 perceived that there was some deep and dangerous difficulty 
 in his father's affairs ; and, bounded in a narrow range as. 
 
DAEIEN. 385 
 
 his knowledge of mankind was, his thoughts reverted to 
 Law. The genius and practical character of that man had 
 strongly inpressed him, and his concluding words, " "We 
 may yet be friends," rang in his ears. He felt that his 
 father was unable to cope with his embarrassment, what 
 ever it was, and he thought that Law might be useful in 
 diverting, if not in removing, his anxieties. He therefore 
 resolved to write to him, to ask him to come and visit 
 Hartly Chase, as if by accident ; and he at once put his 
 resolve into execution, directing his letter to the Piazza 
 Coffee-house, Covent G-arden, as the well-remembered ad 
 dress that he had received. He did not think of the chances 
 against finding that erratic individual at the end of two 
 years. 
 
 Meanwhile, Sir Standon had procured the money for 
 Lawrence, at enormous interest, and returned home com 
 paratively relieved in mind. At first his house seemed 
 lonely to him, in spite of the sensation of repose that ap 
 peared to succeed the departure of its late mistress. But 
 he gradually resumed his spirits, and when, at the end of 
 ten days, Captain Law was announced, he received him 
 with all his former geniality and good-humour. During the 
 next few days Law and young Harold were much together ; 
 hunting and shooting apparently, but there appeared little 
 result from their sport ; and the old baronet would mock 
 them unsuspiciously for their inexpertness, wishing that 
 his younger days could return, that he might show them 
 the old style of woodcraft. But at length he left them to 
 themselves, and Law watched for his opportunity. 
 
 The difficulties that had so long beset Sir Standon were 
 now rapidly accumulating, as it is the nature of pecuniary 
 difficulties to do: they "grow with what they feed on;" 
 and each time the Antaeus is flung " upon the land," he 
 springs up with fresh forces derived from his overthrow. 
 The poor baronet regarded his danger courageously as long 
 as he believed himself to be the only sufferer, but he soon 
 found that a debtor cannot suffer alone. Humble depen 
 dents respectfully hinted rather than pleaded their sore 
 need; creditors, whose only security was the baronet's 
 word, as their sole dependence was upon his solvency; 
 tradespeople whose credit suffered with that of their great 
 patron, and whose daily privations were endured in painful 
 
386 DAEIEN. 
 
 secrecy, all these people and their melancholy claims be 
 came gradually known to Sir Standon, and his kindly gene 
 rous heart was well-nigh broken. Unaccustomed to con 
 cealment, his suppressed care soon began to tell upon his 
 frame the firm yet elastic step gave place to an irresolute 
 and uncertain gait. His form was no longer upright, and 
 his eyes sought the ground. Deep furrows began to sink 
 into his forehead, and his hair had rapidly grown gray and 
 grizzled and neglected. But still, with weak false pride, he 
 strove to maintain his old appearance in the world. Still 
 his stud was to be seen exercising in a long procession. Still 
 the six Flanders mares drew the family coach, surrounded 
 with footmen, to the church. Still the house was open to 
 all his acquaintances in all its ancient hospitality ; and none 
 could have guessed from what they saw around them in 
 profusion and splendour, that the lord of the mansion was 
 sinking under the weight of poverty. 
 
 Often would Sir Standon sit in front of his proud porch, 
 beneath the carved armorial bearings of his ancient race, 
 and muse with bitter anguish on his state. Nothing but 
 the sale of those fair lands that lay spread before him to 
 the distant hills could save him from debt's bitter bondage. 
 
 "To myself, as a mere man," he muttered, "the ex 
 change of a life of show to one of retirement and unre- 
 proachful economy would seem delightful ; but for those 
 who surround me, in memory and in hope my fathers 
 who won these goodly lands, and my poor child who 
 hopes to succeed to it these rise up against my selfish 
 ease. Are there no means, is there no personal sacrifice ? 
 Alas ! that question has been asking itself for many a 
 weary night and dismal day." 
 
 He smote his head with his hand, and tears actually 
 forced their way into his eyes. At that moment the 
 captain bounded up the steps, singing gaily the refrain 
 of an old French song. He started when he saw Sir 
 Standon. His first impulse was to apologize for an in 
 voluntary intrusion ; but he at once saw that he might 
 with as little presumption inquire the cause of his host's 
 sorrow, as apologize for having witnessed it. This he did 
 with warm and unfeigned solicitude ; the genial, generous 
 character of the baronet had won upon him greatly (his 
 own, if developed under more favourable circumstances, 
 
DAEIEtf. 387 
 
 had not perhaps been very different), and he regarded him 
 at once with the respect we feel for honoured elders, and 
 the half-compassionate tenderness we entertain for chil 
 dren. Sir Standon was in the very crisis of his mood, 
 when words of sympathy are not intrusive, and it was a 
 relief to him to pour his sorrow forth. He told his whole 
 story to the young adventurer, and not until he had finished 
 did he venture to steal a look at his hearer to see in what 
 manner his communication affected him. The captain 
 listened with the deepest interest, but with an aspect of 
 cheerful surprise that partly encouraged, yet partly of 
 fended him. 
 
 "My dear Sir Standon," exclaimed the captain, "if you 
 had sooner honoured me with your confidence, you would 
 have spared yourself great and needless anxiety. Young 
 and thoughtless as I may seem, and as perhaps I am, I 
 have some acquaintance with the practical workings of this 
 masking world. At different periods of my life I have 
 been engaged in matters of this nature; and though I 
 ain myself almost a mere penniless adventurer, like the 
 mouse in the fable, I may help to set the lion free. Sup 
 pose your debts are all that you state, and add one-third 
 more for those disagreeable surprises that always follow a 
 close investigation of such matters, why there's ample 
 margin left. Sell those grand old oaks, those hospitable 
 walls, yon wide-spread lands ? never ! If you can put 
 faith in one with whom you are so little acquainted as 
 with me, you shall be heart-free this day twelvemonth. 
 I shall have nothing to do with the moneys mark me 
 but I will keep my eye on those who have." 
 
 Sir Standon felt his heart bound as he listened to the 
 young adventurer's bold words of comfort and promise. 
 He did not hesitate to accept the captain's offer. He 
 read nothing but truth and honour in his deliverer's 
 countenance ; if that friend had been a villain, he would 
 probably have thought the same. 
 
 But Law was no villain ; he was as capable of good as of 
 great impulses. He loved the confiding old baronet in his 
 heart, he honoured his position, he saw him about to sink 
 through very ignorance, and he resolved to save him. 
 
 " I must ask you, Sir Standon," he said, " to give me 
 your assistance for a few days in examining the actual 
 
 B B 2 
 
state of your affairs, in order that I may be thoroughly 
 informed before I take any important steps." 
 
 "Ah!" replied the baronet, deprecatingly, "one hour 
 would more than tell you all I know." 
 
 And such was indeed the ease ; the old gentleman would 
 willingly have submitted to the loss of a limb nay, of life 
 itself to disengage his estate from its ruin ; but he could 
 not bring himself to the first and necessary task of looking 
 his affairs in the face. It was no uncommon case ; and 
 perhaps Law himself, had the matter been his own, would 
 have had the same reluctance. As it was, however, he set 
 zealously to work. He prevailed on Sir Standon to make 
 out a list of his liabilities, as far as he knew them ; about 
 two hundred thousand pounds. He then prevailed on him 
 to write to his steward, agent and bailiffs, to send in a 
 statement of their accounts for the last year. This pro 
 ceeding took them by surprise. Some had not kept any 
 accounts ; others had prepared a mere mass of words and 
 figures, of which they knew their easy and indulgent master 
 would never test the accuracy. 
 
 But their accounts were now subjected to a very different 
 scrutiny : the keenest eyes in Europe were upon them, and 
 the intuition by which the most recondite knaveries were 
 detected, seemed to them supernatural. As each agent 
 came under Law's investigation, he threw himself on his 
 mercy; 'in several instances their inquisitor turned their 
 own guns, as it were, upon the enemy, by allowing those 
 whose errors appeared venial to give testimony against 
 their more guilty brethren. By the end of three days, 
 the reformer had disposed of all but the stronghold of the 
 financial mysteries, the law-agent : into this, however, he 
 had obtained various glimpses, which proved to him that it 
 would not be long tenable. 
 
 The interview with the law-agent took place in Sir Stan- 
 don's presence. The few law-letters which Sir Standon had 
 preserved were produced. In them, there were constant 
 allusions to some heard-hearted usurer, " who would not be 
 satisfied with less than such-and-such conditions." 
 
 Law's questions, lucid and irresistible as lightning, shot 
 into this mystery, and soon revealed the identity of the 
 said usurer with the agent who had employed his imaginary 
 services. Thenceforth the inquisitorial task became easy 
 
DAEIEN. 389 
 
 "With a rapidity which the agent did not attempt to follow, 
 Law added up the sums that had been paid or demanded 
 beyond legal interest, and columns of alarming figures col 
 lapsed before the process with marvellous rapidity. At 
 length, when this point was settled and Law's questions 
 began to search into yet sorer places, Sir Standon, feeling 
 for the evident torture of his long-trusted agent, attempted 
 to induce Law to desist, saying that enough had been done, 
 and he was quite sure all would be satisfactorily explained 
 in time. But Law's blood was up, and he pursued his game 
 unflinchingly. He uttered no reproach: he did not even 
 express contempt in his looks ; but he persevered, as in the 
 elucidation of some curious problem in mathematics, until 
 he had laid bare every transaction between master and ser 
 vant, from the time that Sir Standon first raised the traitor 
 from obscurity to prosperity and independence. He then 
 coolly bowed him out, and turning to Sir Standon, ex 
 claimed : 
 
 " Well, Sir Standon, if you had not at last resolved to 
 look into your affairs, it would have been all up in six 
 months. That's an able villain who has just left us. Now 
 two courses are open to you. Will you be content to re 
 main here with a reduced establishment, or will you go into 
 retirement for a few years, which perhaps would better suit 
 your feelings ? In either of these cases, all your creditors 
 can be paid, and your son will probably have a tolerably 
 unencumbered property. If you like to live on, as at pre 
 sent, I think, with what we now know, you may do so for 
 three or four years. Tour rental cannot safely be esti 
 mated at above twelve thousand a-year, and you owe about 
 one hundred and fifty thousand. The former can undoubt 
 edly be raised a thousand or two per annum, and the latter 
 may still bear reduction. But, for round numbers, they 
 will serve you to base your calculations upon." 
 
 Sir Standon at once declared that comfort or happiness 
 appeared to him absolutely (at that moment) confined to 
 paying his debts ; and that a life of economy would be 
 almost an agreeable excitement and variety. 
 
 That night Law, accompanied by Harold, in whose care 
 he required should be placed title-deeds and other parch 
 ments, started for London. Three days afterwards he pre 
 sented himself, as we have seen, in Alvaro's house. 
 
390 DAEIE2S-. 
 
 It would have been curious to watch the trial of " tongue 
 fence " between those two subtle and worldly, but generous 
 minds. Law put forth all his ingenuity in drawing such a 
 picture of the old baronet as could not fail to win upon Al- 
 varo's sympathies. It did so, but only in a poetical point of 
 view ; in the practical matters of business, Alvaro did not 
 allow himself to be so influenced. He cross-examined Law 
 in turn, and soon acquired a tolerably just judgment of Sir 
 Standon and his affairs. At length he wound up by saying 
 
 " Tour friend is evidently a weak but an amiable man. 
 Nothing will teach him the value of money, except ex 
 periencing its privation. (I know that from experience.) 
 Let him retire to some quiet place, far removed from the 
 scenes of his thoughtless extravagance. Let him there 
 live for some years on say a thousand a-year. Why 
 should he not try Sandilee ? I once fitted up the Peel- 
 house in a condition fit for a person of quality ; and he 
 would there have the society of my friend Paterson, who 
 will inspire him with resignation and philosophy, if it is 
 possible. But I do not wish to dictate to Sir Standon. 
 If he accepts my terms, he may live where he pleases : he 
 shall have the money at four per cent., but the overplus 
 must go to reduce the debt. Obtain his assent, and there 
 need be no further delay. Meanwhile, I should like to see 
 the son, from what you say of him. Ask him to do me the 
 honour of dining here to-morrow." 
 
 Harold made his appearance at the time appointed. Al 
 varo was favourably impressed by his self-possession and 
 cheerful resignation to what he conceived to be the down 
 fall of his house ; for his friend had carefully forborne to 
 let him know of the final arrangements made in his favour. 
 He expressed to Alvaro his desire to enter at once into 
 active life and endeavour to make his own way : 
 
 " "What honour to be dropp'd on Fortune's hill ? 
 The honour is to mount it ! " 
 
 was the substance of his speech ; and it pleased his host. 
 Not so, however, the direction that his wishes took; for 
 Harold was smitten with a military ambition, that which, 
 of all others, had least attraction for Alvaro. But Marl- 
 borough had then begun his career of glory, and all the 
 young heart of England was on fire to emulate him. 
 
DAEIEN. 391 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 On the hill top, worn and gray, 
 Lieth age; a pleasant ray 
 From the setting sun doth grace 
 The deep furrows of his face. 
 God be blessed, he hath won 
 Life's great victory ; wending on 
 Through the dreamings proud and bold ; 
 Through the passions manifold ; 
 Through the subtle hopes and fears 
 -Of the stormy later years, 
 To the TRUTH, that in his soul 
 Holdeth now its high control. 
 
 WESTWOOD. 
 
 have lingered so long upon our road to our goal, that, 
 now it is in sight, we must hurry over the last stage. 
 
 Sir Standon embraced the conditions eccentric as they 
 seemed to him imposed by the Merchant Prince : indee'd 
 he was only too happy to be saved the trouble of making 
 his own decision. He also adopted Alvaro's suggestion as to 
 becoming tenant of the old Peel-house, now a picturesque, 
 though small, castellated building surrounded by gardens. 
 The cottages which he had long ago saved from the licence 
 of Drummond's troopers, were converted into clean and 
 comfortable dwellings ; and some of the old inhabitants 
 still gratefully remembered the young cornet's discipline 
 and munificence. The Solway shore w r as a pleasant place 
 to sit and muse over his past career ; and to recall all the 
 faithful and affectionate, though humble, sorrow that had 
 been testified at his departure from his grand old home. 
 Instead of a numerous stud, which he scarcely ever used, 
 he had now one trusty cob, which was seldom unemployed ; 
 instead of horizons of land, "he had now a hundred acres to 
 farm. But he had a mind free from care, and his spirits 
 rose hourly. Like some brave tree, almost smothered by 
 creepers and parasites, he had begun to droop and wither ; 
 now that a clean clearance was made, he seemed to expand 
 into new life, and unlive the last few cankering years. The 
 calm, wise, pious Paterson was ever near to advise with, 
 and to listen to ; and from time to time, news came of 
 
392 DAEIEK. 
 
 some gallant achievement of his son's ; these he would 
 read, first to his old friend, and then to all the villagers, 
 as well as his tears of pride would permit ; for Harold was 
 then fighting his way to distinction. He had shared in 
 Marlborough's great triumph at Blenheim ; and though he 
 little knew that his heroic chief, whom he regarded as a 
 demigod, was actually subsidized by Alvaro,* he felt the 
 beneficial influence of the Merchant Prince upon his own 
 fortunes. After Ramilies, he returned to England with a 
 colonel's rank, and presented himself to Alvaro with honest 
 pride. Him he found looking old and care-worn and gray, 
 but his dark eyes still glowed with all their former fire : he 
 was about to undertake a journey into Scotland, to visit his 
 old friend Paterson, who had made a resolution never to 
 leave his home again. 
 
 As Harold was proceeding thither to see his father, they 
 travelled in company, and visited Hartly Chase on their 
 way. There, to Harold's delighted surprise, he found his 
 father reinstated in his ancestral home. The worthy old 
 gentleman was divested, indeed, of much of the feudal, 
 encumbering pomp which he had once considered essential 
 to the due maintenance of his position ; but he lacked no 
 thing that could be required for comfort and unostentatious 
 hospitality. Sir Standon's mind appeared to have shared 
 in the same reform : no longer oppressed with the burden 
 of a hopeless debt, he was no longer dreamy and languid. 
 He looked into his affairs with energy and interest, com 
 bating every approach to fraud or laxity, as if it was a 
 deadly enemy. He rode constantly abroad among his 
 tenants ; learning from their own lips and from their 
 farms, the true condition of their affairs, the sorrows in 
 which he could sympathise, the necessities that he could 
 relieve, the happiness that he could share. 
 
 Thus, happy in the discharge of his duties, and in pos 
 session of a blameless conscience, he had lived at Hartly 
 Chase for above a twelvemonth ; and when his son was 
 restored to him, the measure of his happiness appeared 
 complete. One only drawback still existed, in his sepa 
 ration from his friend Paterson, who could not be pre 
 vailed upon to leave his home by the Solway. It was, 
 
 * Known in history by his surname of Medina. 
 
DARIEtf. 393 
 
 therefore, with, joy that he consented to accompany Alvaro 
 in his journey to Sandilee. 
 
 As they rode along (in the fashion now almost unknown 
 in Europe, but still preserved in all its pleasantness in the 
 East), Alvaro and Sir Standon had ample time for conver 
 sation. Then Sir Standon learned, for the first time, that 
 Lawrence had established himself in Paris, where he lived for 
 some months in great splendour : his wife's beauty, combined 
 with his own talents and love of play, drawing about him a 
 numerous society. (Sir Standon well remembered Marina's 
 beauty, and remembered it without a sigh.) The Chevalier 
 de St. Laurent, as he was then called, was at length dis 
 covered to play a little too finely ; the discovery led to a 
 challenge, in which the adventurer fell. Marina, after a 
 paroxysm of grief, retired to a convent. 
 
 Law was pursuing his own singular career, and main 
 taining his character in all the capitals of Europe, as the 
 most successful gambler and the profoundest financier 
 alive. He amassed a considerable fortune, and married 
 Lady Katherine, daughter of the Earl of Banbury.* 
 
 After several days' journey, our travellers approached 
 the manor-house of Sandilee. They descended towards 
 it from the fir-planted hill that bounded the little park 
 behind the house. 
 
 It was a secluded, silent spot ; silent, at least, but for 
 those sounds that are only associated in our minds with 
 repose and peace : a waterfall an umbrageous wood, 
 whose boughs rustled at every breeze, a mill, whose in 
 dustrious clack w T as seldom still a brawling brook : these 
 voices of secluded life sent pleasant sounds through the 
 latticed windows and honeysuckled porch of the hermit's 
 sombre dwelling. 
 
 The thoughts of the travellers had been gradually pre- 
 
 * Ultimately (long after the latest date of our story), he settled 
 himself in Paris, and became Minister of Finance to the Regent Duke 
 of Orleans. He reformed the taxes, and founded a bank, which gave 
 almost immediate prosperity to Paris ; but the avarice and recklessness 
 of the Regent drove him on into various devices which terminated in 
 the memorable Mississippi scheme. After the explosion of that stupen 
 dous bubble, he wandered about Europe in comparative poverty, 
 though still highly honoured, and at length died at Venice, in 1729. 
 His story was to have terminated this work, but for the length to 
 which it would have extended. 
 
394 DAKIEtf. 
 
 pared for, and brought into harmony with, the aspect of 
 tranquillity that pervaded this quiet asylum of the world- 
 weary philosopher. Their journey had terminated towards 
 the close of a genial autumn day ; the rude pathway some 
 times leading them through shadowy glens, memorable in 
 the old Scottish wars ; sometimes emerging upon the open 
 sunburnt heather, and sometimes subsiding along the 
 shingly shore. The only living things that presented them 
 selves, were once or twice a wild-looking herdsman, tending 
 his yet wilder cattle ; or watchful deer that moved away like 
 shadows on the distant hills. 
 
 But as they approached the manor-house, some signs of 
 civilised life became visible : neat fences ; teams of horses 
 returning from their labour; the village in the distance, 
 with the ruins of the old Castle of Caerlaverock standing 
 boldly in relief from a plantation of Scotch firs ; the Frith, 
 spreading widely beyond, calm and bright, except where it 
 was dotted with the dark red sails of the fisherman's boats. 
 
 On the old porch, where his father was wont to sit, 
 Paterson, the son, sate now, silent and serene as the nature 
 around him. 
 
 He was then deeply enjoying the pleasure of a calm 
 Scottish sunset ; a sensation of profound repose seemed to 
 have communicated itself from nature to his weary frame : 
 his broad breast was heaving with a pulsation as slow and 
 gradual as that of the sea on which his eyes were resting. 
 But his thoughts were not in Scotland ; they were far away 
 beyond all reach of mortal vision where the westernmost 
 Indian islands rise in all their beauty from the crystal seas. 
 There his youth was past in dangers and trials manifold ; 
 thither he returned in his manhood's prime, to execute his 
 
 florious scheme. There, whitening on those distant shores, 
 e had left the bones of his dearest friends, the disciples of 
 his faith, the sharers of his hopes, the followers of his star : 
 there, he had seen his loved wife pine away and die in 
 the disappointment that wrung, but could not break, her 
 husband's manful heart. 
 
 Paterson, upon whom the eyes of all western Europe 
 were once fixed in hope or enmity, is now at rest in the 
 scenes where his boyhood passed; and where his age, 
 crowned with all the consolations of faith, will sink quietly 
 to its last repose. 
 
DABIEtf. 395 
 
 But the unexpected sight of his friends now aroused him 
 from his trance. He joyfully welcomed them, and put his 
 modest establishment to the utmost stretch of its capa 
 bilities in order to entertain them. 
 
 They had all, except Harold, many associations to in 
 terest them in the surrounding scenery; and many days 
 passed by without any event beyond what each found in his 
 own mind. At length Sir Standon and his son happening 
 to be away upon the hills, the two partners of other times 
 were left alone together. 
 
 " Old friend," said Alvaro, as they strolled together along 
 the shore, " let us sit down beneath this cliff, where, years 
 ago, it seems almost an eternity! I used to sit with 
 Isobel in the first rapturous days that we were left toge 
 ther, all in all to one another. There, on that very tuft 
 of grass as it seems to me on those very flowers she used 
 to rest. And there she would speak to me of wondrous 
 things that appeared familiar to her ; things and thoughts 
 of another world, to which I could not follow her. And 
 here, on this spot, I would fain give you, my tried and most 
 true friend, charge of Isobel's child. I would have her live 
 where her mother lived, and breathe the pure air that she 
 breathed ; and, perhaps, under the same influences, she may 
 come to resemble that most perfect woman who is now at 
 rest ; at rest in yonder grave, to which I well know my 
 heartless and inconceivable neglect hurried her. 
 
 "My friend, I have struggled hard with the world to 
 wring from its distractions some solace for my cares : but I 
 have tried in vain : it is very hollow ! I cannot play my 
 part in it any more. I am about to proceed upon another 
 pilgrimage my last. You will or, at least, if you were 
 any other man, you would smile at my morbid fancy, but 
 I would fain lay my bones in Jerusalem ; and as I feel 
 the time is not far off when the wasted lamp of life will be 
 extinguished, I am resolved to hasten thither. To your 
 care I leave my child. She is a treasure too pure and good 
 for me. To your trust, too, I bequeath all the dross that 
 my life has appeared to be devoted in accumulating. But 
 bring up my little one as a village girl. Let her never 
 know of her dangerous possessions until her mind is ma 
 tured. The old servant, who alone will accompany her 
 hither, is sworn never to betray the secret of her future 
 
396 DABIEtf. 
 
 wealth ; and I know that she will keep her word. "Will 
 you execute this trust ? 
 
 " One word more. It may be a foolish fancy, and ten 
 thousand chances are against its fulfilment. But I like 
 this manly and gallant soldier boy (for he is no more), 
 whom we have here with us. If my child and he should 
 like one another, (and there is not any great disparity of 
 years between them,) I in short I would not have you 
 oppose their union. But I talk like an old dotard. It is 
 time to change the conversation ; for I would not have 
 your answer until to-morrow. Then I shall say to the 
 worthiest and most single-hearted man I ever knew 
 FAREWELL." 
 
 Here I concluded my MS., and looked round on my 
 Highlander with diffidence, and some faint hope ; but lo ! 
 that respectable individual had retired ; and left me alone 
 to meet the verdict of an awful " PUBLIC." 
 
NOTE. 
 
 I INTENDED to have thrown into an Appendix some of the 
 various curious matters connected with the buccaneers, 
 which I thought were least known, or which I, at least, 
 only discovered by accident in the course of the few re 
 searches I have made in the mines of the Bodleian and 
 British Museum libraries. I had also intended to have 
 confessed the few liberties I have taken with Paterson's 
 true history ; but I fear the reader may be already weary 
 of him, and I will not venture to discuss him further, lest 
 I should presume too far upon possible indulgence. I 
 would make one observation, however, for which I shall 
 perhaps be considered pedantic. Whenever I have spoken 
 of Paterson in substantiated facts, I have called him by 
 that name ; in all that is fictitious I have applied to him, in 
 Scottish fashion, the territorial name of Tinwald. And 
 here I must make one more confession; Tinwald, which 
 was indeed the name of his native place, is not on the sea 
 shore, but many miles inland. Pitmyre is the inharmonious 
 name of the house of his birth. This, I think, is the greatest 
 liberty that I have taken with my subject. 
 
NOW IK COURSE OF PUBLICATION 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
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 ILLUSTRATED BY MILLAIS, HOLMAN HUNT, LEECH, BIRKET POSTER] 
 
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 Each in a single volume, elegantly printed, bound, and illustrated, price 5s. 
 
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 forms a very good beginning to what will doubtless be a very successful undertaking. 
 'Nature arid Human Nature' is one of the best of Sam Slick's witty and humorous 
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 mendations of a clear, bold type, and good paper, the lesser, but attractive merits of 
 being well illustrated and elegantly bound." Post. 
 
 VOL. II. JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. 
 
 " This is a very good and a very interesting work. It is designed to trace the career 
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 this his history is no ordinary book. It is a full-length portrait of a true gentleman, 
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 BY ELIOT WARBURTON. 
 
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 her which are as individual as they are elegant." Athenceum. 
 
 VOL. V. A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF "JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
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 young lady may thank the author for means of doing so." Examiner. 
 
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HURST AND BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 (CONTINUED). 
 
 VOL. VII. SAM SLICK'S WISE SAWS 
 AND MODERN INSTANCES. 
 
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 VOL. VIII.CARDINAL WISEMAN'S RECOLLECTIONS 
 OF THE LAST FOUR POPES. 
 
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 VOL. IX. A LIFE FOR A LIFE. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF "JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
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 VOL, X. THE OLD COURT SUBURB. BY LEIGH HUNT. 
 
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 who have a love for the best kinds of reading." Examiner. 
 
 " A more agreeable and entertaining book- has not been published since Boswell pro 
 duced his reminiscences of Johnson." Observer. 
 
 VOL. XI. MARGARET AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 
 
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 themselves. They will find it well worth their while. There are a freshness and ori 
 ginality about it quite charming." Athenaeum. 
 
 VOL. XII. THE OLD JUDGE. BY SAM SLICK. 
 
 ct The publications included in this Library have all been of good quality ; many give 
 information while they entertain, and of that class the book before us is a specimen. 
 The manner in which the Cheap Editions forming the series is produced deserves 
 especial mention. The paper and print are unexceptionable ; there is a steel engraving 
 in each volume, and the outsides of them will satisfy the purchaser who likes to see 
 books in handsome uniform." Examiner. 
 
 VOL. XIII. DARIEN. BY ELIOT WARBURTON. 
 
 " This last production of the author of ' The Crescent and the Cross ' has the same 
 elements of a very wide popularity. It will please its thousands." Globe. 
 
 VOL. XIV. FAMILY ROMANCE ; OR, DOMESTIC 
 ANNALS OF THE ARISTOCRACY. 
 
 BY SIR BERNARD BURKE, ULSTER KING OF ARMS. 
 
 " It were impossible to praise too highly this most interesting book. It ought to be 
 found on every drawing-room table. Here you have nearly fifty captivating romances 
 with the pith of all their interest preserved in undiminished poignancy, and any one 
 may be read in half an hour." Standard. 
 
 VOL. XV. THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 BY MRS OLIPHANT. 
 " The Laird of Norlaw fully sustains the author's high reputation." Sunday Times, 
 
HURST AND BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 CONTINUED). 
 
 VOL.. XYL THE ENGLISHWOMAN IN ITALY. 
 
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 tune instruction." The Times. 
 
 VOL. XVII. NOTHING NEW. 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF "JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
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 one of the most popular works of the day." Post. 
 
 VOL. XVIII. FREEH'S LIFE OF JEANNE D'ALBRET. 
 
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 VOL. XIX. THE VALLEY OF A HUNDRED FIRES. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF "MARGARET AND HER BRIDESMAIDS." 
 
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 the popular authoress of 'Margaret and her Bridesmaids.' If asked to classify it, we 
 should give it a place between ' John Halifax ' and ' The Caxtons.' "Herald. 
 
 VOL. XX. THE ROMANCE OF THE FORUM. 
 
 BY PETER BURKE, SERGEANT AT LAW. 
 
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 VOL. XXL ADELE. BY JULIA KAVANAGH. 
 
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 full of delicate character-painting." Athenaeum. 
 
 VOL. XXII. STUDIES FROM LIFE. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF "JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
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 book will not dimmish the reputation of the accomplished author." Saturday Review. 
 
 VOL. XXIIL GRANDMOTHER'S MONEY. 
 
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 VOL. XXIV. A BOOK ABOUT DOCT3B.S. 
 
 BY J. C. JEAFFRESON, ESQ. 
 
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 as well as the drawing-room table and the circulating library." Lancet. 
 
 VOL. XXV. NO CHURCH. 
 
 "We advise all who have the opportunity to read this laooli."Athenceum. 
 
 VOL. XXVI. MISTRESS AND MAID. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF "JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 "A good wholesome book, gracefully written, and as pleasant to read as it is instruc 
 tive." Athenaeum. " A charming tale charmingly told." Herald. 
 
 VOL. XXVIL LOST AND SAVED. BY HON. MRS NORTON. 
 
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 " A novel of rare excellence. It is Mrs Norton's best orose work." Examiner. 
 
HURST AND BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 (CONTINUED). 
 
 VOL. XXYIIL LES MISEEABLES. BY VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 AUTHORISED COPYRIGHT ENGLISH TRANSLATION. 
 
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 YOL. XXIX. BAEBAEA'S HISTOEY. 
 
 BY AMELIA B. EDWARDS. 
 
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 very graceful and charming book, with a well-managed story, clearly-cut characters 
 and sentiments expressed with an exquisite elocution. It is a book which the world 
 will like. This is high praise of a work of art, and so we intend it." Times 
 
 YOL. XXX. LIFE OF THE EEV. EDWAED IEVIHG. 
 
 BY MRS OLIPHANT. 
 
 ".A good book on a most interesting theme." . 
 
 <: A truly interesting and most affecting memoir. Irving's Life ought to have a niche 
 in every gallery of religious biography. There are few lives that will be fuller of in 
 struction, interest, and consolation." Saturday Review, 
 
 " Mrs Oliphant's Life of Irving supplies a long-felt desideratum. It is copious, 
 earnest, and eloquent. Irving, as a man and as a pastor, is exhibited with many broad, 
 powerful, and life-like touches, which leave a strong impression." Edinburgh Review. 
 
 YOL. XXXI. ST OLAVE'S. 
 
 This charming novel is the work of one who possesses a great talent for writing, as 
 Athenceum. 
 
 well as experience and knowledge of the world. ' Sc Olave's* is the work of 
 Tha whole book is worth reading." Athenceum 
 
 VOL. XXXII. SAM SLICK'S TRAITS OF AMEEICAN 
 HUMOUE. 
 
 "Dip where you will into this lottery of fun, you are sure to draw out a prize." Post. 
 
 YOL. XXXIII. CHEISTIAN'S MISTAKE. 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
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 off a circle of varied characters all true to nature, and has entangled them in a story 
 which keeps us in suspense till its knot is happily and gracefully resolved. Even if 
 tried by the standard of the Archbishop of York, we should expect that even he would 
 pronounce ' Christian's Mistake' a novel without a fault." Times. 
 
 YOL. XXXIY. ALEC FOEBES OF HOWGLEN. 
 
 BY GEORGE MAC DONALD, M.A. 
 
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 the work from the first page to the last." dthenceum. 
 
 YOL. XXXY. AGNES. BY MES OLIPHANT. 
 
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 are always to be found high principle, good taste, sense, and refinement. ' Agues' is a 
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