Books: A Modern Telemachus
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> A Modern Telemachus
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'No, indeed, Tam. Only let it be in the right Name.'
And Arthur knelt down beside him and said the Lord's Prayer--then,
under a spell of bashfulness, muttered special entreaty for protection
and safety.
They were to embark again now that darkness would veil their movements,
but the wind blew so much from the north that they could not raise the
sail. The oars were taken by Tam and Fareek at first, but when they
came into difficult currents Arthur changed places with the former.
And thus the hours passed. The Mediterranean may be in our eyes a
European lake, but it was quite large enough to be a desert of sea and
sky to the little crew of an open boat, even though they were favoured
by the weather. Otherwise, indeed, they must have perished in the
first storm. They durst not sail except by night, and then only with
northerly winds, nor could there be much rest, since they could not lay
to, and drift with the currents, lest they should be carried back to
the African coast. Only one of the three men could sleep at a time,
and that by one of the others taking both oars, and in time this could
not but become very exhausting. It was true that all the coasts to the
north were of Christian lands; but in their Moorish garments and in
perfect ignorance of Italian, strangers might fare no better in
Sardinia or Sicily than in Africa, and Spain might be no better; but
Tam endeavoured to keep a north-westerly course, thinking from what
Arthur had said that in this direction there was more chance of being
picked up by a French vessel. Would their strength and provisions hold
out? Of this there was serious doubt. Late in the year as it was, the
heat and glare were as distressing by day as was the cold by night, and
the continued exertion of rowing produced thirst, which made it very
difficult to husband the water in the skins. Tam and Fareek were both
tough, and inured to heat and privation; but Arthur, scarce yet come to
his full height, and far from having attained proportionate robustness
and muscular strength, could not help flagging, though, whenever
steering was of minor importance, Tam gave him the rudder, moved by his
wan looks, for he never complained, even when fragments of dry goat's
flesh almost choked his parched mouth. The boy was never allowed to
want for anything save water; but it was very hard to hear him fretting
for it. Tam took the goatskin into his own keeping, and more than once
uttered a rough reproof, and yet Arthur saw him give the child half his
own precious ration when it must have involved grievous suffering. The
promise about giving the cup of cold water to a little one could not
but rise to his lips.
'Cauld! and I wish it were cauld!' was all the response Tam made; but
his face showed some gratification.
This was no season for traffic, and they had barely seen a sail or two
in the distance, and these only such as the experienced eyes of the ex-
sponge merchant held to be dangerous. Deadly lassitude began to seize
the young Scot; he began scarcely to heed what was to become of them,
and had not energy to try to console Ulysse, who, having in an
unwatched moment managed to swallow some sea water, was crying and
wailing under the additional misery he had inflicted on himself. The
sun beat down with noontide force, when on that fourth day, turning
from its scorching, his languid eye espied a sail on the northern
horizon.
'See,' he cried; 'that is not the way of the Moors.'
'Bismillah! I beg your pardon, sir,' cried Tam, but said no more, only
looked intently.
Gradually, gradually the spectacle rose on their view fuller and
fuller, not the ruddy wings of the Algerine or Italian, but the square
white castle-like tiers of sails rising one above another, bearing
along in a south-easterly direction.
'English or French,' said Tam, with a long breath, for her colours and
build were not yet discernible. 'Mashallah! I beg pardon. I mean,
God grant she pass us not by!'
The mast was hastily raised, with Tam's turban unrolled, floating at
the top of it; and while he and Fareek plied their oars with might and
main, he bade Arthur fire off at intervals the blunderbuss, which had
hitherto lain idle at the bottom of the boat.
How long the intense suspense lasted they knew not ere Arthur cried,
'They are slackening sail! Thank God. Tam, you have saved us!
English!'
'Not so fast!' Tam uttered an Arabic and then a Scottish interjection.
Their signal had been seen by other eyes. An unmistakable Algerine,
with the crescent flag, was bearing down on them from the opposite
direction.
'Rascals. Do they not dread the British flag?' cried Arthur. 'Surely
that will protect us?'
'They are smaller and lighter, and with their galley slaves can defy
the wind, and loup off like a flea in a blanket,' returned Tam, grimly.
'Mair by token, they guess what we are, and will hold on to hae my
life's bluid if naething mair! Here! Gie us a soup of the water, and
the last bite of flesh. 'Twill serve us the noo, find we shall need it
nae mair any way.'
Arthur fed him, for he durst not slacken rowing for a moment. Then
seeing Fareek, who had borne the brunt of the fatigue, looking spent,
the youth, after swallowing a few morsels and a little foul-smelling
drink, took the second oar, while double force seemed given to the long
arms lately so weary, and both pulled on in silent, grim desperation.
Ulysse had given one scream at seeing the last of the water swallowed,
but he too, understood the situation, and obeyed Arthur's brief words,
'Kneel down and pray for us, my boy.'
The Abyssinian was evidently doing the same, after having loaded the
blunderbuss; but it was no longer necessary to use this as a signal,
since the frigate had lowered her boat, which was rapidly coming
towards them.
But, alas! still more swiftly, as it seemed to those terrified eyes,
came the Moorish boat--longer, narrower, more favoured by currents and
winds, flying like a falcon towards its prey. It was a fearful race.
Arthur's head began to swim, his breath to labour, his arms to move
stiffly as a thresher's flail; but, just as power was failing him, an
English cheer came over the waters, and restored strength for a few
more resolute strokes.
Then came some puffs of smoke from the pirate's boat, a report, a jerk
to their own, a fresh dash forward, even as Fareek fired, giving a
moment's check to the enemy. There was a louder cheer, several shots
from the English boat, a cloud from the ship's side. Then Arthur was
sensible of a relaxation of effort, and that the chase was over, then
that the British boat was alongside, friendly voices ringing in his
ears, 'How now, mates? Runaways, eh? Where d'ye hail from?'
'Scottish! British!' panted out Arthur, unable to utter more, faint,
giddy, and astounded by the cheers around him, and the hands stretched
out in welcome. He scarcely saw or understood.
'Queer customers here! What! a child! Who are you, my little man?
And what's this? A Moor! He's hit--pretty hard too.'
This brought back Arthur's reeling senses in one flash of horror, at
the sight of Tam, bleeding fast in the bottom of the boat.
'O Tam! Tam! He saved me! He is Scottish too,' cried Arthur. 'Sir,
is he alive?'
'I think so,' said the officer, who had bent over Tam. 'We'll have him
aboard in a minute, and see what the doctor can do with him. You seem
to have had a narrow escape.'
Arthur was too busy endeavouring to staunch the blood which flowed fast
from poor Tam's side to make much reply, but Ulysse, perched on the
officer's knee, was answering for him in mixed English and French.
'Moi, je suis le Chevalier de Bourke! My papa is ambassador to Sweden.
This gentleman is his secretary. We were shipwrecked--and M. Arture
and I swam away together. The Moors were good to us, and wanted to
make us Moors; but M. Arture said it would be wicked. And Yusuf bought
him for a slave; but that was only from faire la comedie. He is bon
Chretien after all, and so is poor Fareek, only he is dumb. Yusuf--
that is, Tam--made me all black, and changed me for his little negro
boy; and we got into the boat, and it was very hot, and oh! I am so
thirsty. And now M. Arture will take me to Monsieur mon Pere, and get
me some nice clothes again,' concluded the young gentleman, who, in
this moment of return to civilised society, had become perfectly aware
of his own rank and importance.
Arthur only looked up to verify the child's statements, which had much
struck the lieutenant. Their boat had by this time been towed
alongside of the frigate, and poor Tam was hoisted on board, and the
surgeon was instantly at hand; but he said at once that the poor fellow
was fast dying, and that it would be useless torture to carry him below
for examination.
A few words passed with the captain, and then the little Chevalier was
led away to tell his own tale, which he was doing with a full sense of
his own importance; but presently the captain returned, and beckoned to
Arthur, who had been kneeling beside poor Tam, moistening his lips, and
bathing his face, as he lay gasping and apparently unconscious, except
that he had gripped hold of his broad sash or girdle when it was taken
off.
'The child tells me he is Comte de Bourke's son,' said the captain, in
a tentative manner, as if doubtful whether he should be understood, and
certainly Arthur looked more Moorish than European.
'Yes, sir! He was on his way with his mother to join his father when
we were taken by a Moorish corsair.'
'But you are not French?' said the captain, recognising the tones.
'No, sir; Scottish--Arthur Maxwell Hope. I was to have gone as the
Count's secretary.'
'You have escaped from the Moors? I could not understand what the boy
said. Where are the lady and the rest?'
Arthur as briefly as he could, for he was very anxious to return to
poor Tam, explained the wreck and the subsequent adventures, saying
that he feared the poor Countess was lost, but that he had seen her
daughter and some of her suite on a rock. Captain Beresford was
horrified at the idea of a Christian child among the wild Arabs. His
station was Minorca, but he had just been at the Bay of Rosas, where
poor Comte de Bourke's anxiety and distress about his wife and children
were known, and he had received a request amounting to orders to try to
obtain intelligence about them, so that he held it to be within his
duty to make at once for Djigheli Bay.
For further conversation was cut short by sounds of articulate speech
from poor Tam. Arthur turned hastily, and the captain proceeded to
give his orders.
'Is Maister Hope here?'
'Here! Yes. O Tam, dear Tam, if I could do anything!' cried Arthur.
'I canna see that well,' said Tam, with a sound of anxiety. 'Where's
my sash?'
'This is it, in your own hand,' said Arthur, thinking he was wandering,
but the other hand sought one of the ample folds, which was sewn over,
and weighty.
'Tak' it; tak' tent of it; ye'll need the siller. Four hunder piastres
of Tunis, not countin' zeechins, and other sma' coin.'
'Shall I send them to any one at Eyemouth?'
Tam almost laughed. 'Na, na; keep them and use them yersell, sir.
There's nane at hame that wad own puir Tam. The leddy, your mither,
an' you hae been mair to me than a' beside that's above ground, and
what wad ye do wi'out the siller?'
'O Tam! I owe all and everything to you. And now --'
Tam looked up, as Arthur's utterance was choked, and a great tear fell
on his face. 'Wha wad hae said,' murmured he, 'that a son of Burnside
wad be greetin' for Partan Jeannie's son?'
'For my best friend. What have you not saved me from! and I can do
nothing!'
'Nay, sir. Say but thae words again.'
'Oh for a clergyman! Or if I had a Bible to read you the promises.'
'You shall have one,' said the captain, who had returned to his side.
The surgeon muttered that the lad seemed as good as a parson; but
Arthur heard him not, and was saying what prayers came to his mind in
this stress, when, even as the captain returned, the last struggle came
on. Once more Tam looked up, saying, 'Ye'll be good to puir Fareek;'
and with a word more, 'Oh, Christ: will He save such as I?' all was
over.
'Come away, you can do nothing more,' said the doctor. 'You want
looking to yourself.'
For Arthur tottered as he tried to rise, and needed the captain's kind
hand as he gained his feet. 'Sir,' he said, as the tears gushed to his
eyes, 'he DOES deserve all honour--my only friend and deliverer.'
'I see,' said Captain Beresford, much moved; 'whatever he has been, he
died a Christian. He shall have Christian burial. And this fellow?'
pointing to poor Fareek, whose grief was taking vent in moans and sobs.
'Christian--Abyssinian, but dumb,' Arthur explained; and having his
promise that all respect should be paid to poor Tam's corpse, he let
the doctor lead him away, for he had now time to feel how sun-scorched
and exhausted he was, with giddy, aching head, and legs cramped and
stiff, arms strained and shoulders painful after his three days and
nights of the boat. His thirst, too, seemed unquenchable, in spite of
drinks almost unconsciously taken, and though hungry he had little will
to eat.
The surgeon made him take a warm bath, and then fed him with soup,
after which, on a promise of being called in due time, he consented to
deposit himself in a hammock, and presently fell asleep.
When he awoke he found that clothes had been provided for him--naval
uniforms; but that could not be helped, and the comfort was great. He
was refreshed, but still very stiff. However, he dressed and was just
ready, when the surgeon came to see whether he were in condition to be
summoned, for it was near sundown, and all hands were piped up to
attend poor Tam's funeral rites. His generous and faithful deed had
eclipsed the memory that he was a renegade, and, indeed, it had been in
such ignorance that he had had little to deny.
All the sailors stood as respectfully as if he had been one of
themselves while the captain read a portion of the Burial Office. Such
honours would never have been his in his native land, where at that
time even Episcopalians themselves could not have ventured on any out-
door rites; and Arthur was thus doubly struck and impressed, when, as
the corpse, sewn in sail-cloth and heavily weighted, was launched into
the blue waves, he heard the words committing the body to the deep,
till the sea should give up her dead. He longed to be able to
translate them to poor Fareek, who was weeping and howling so
inconsolably as to attest how good a master he had lost.
Perhaps Tam's newly-found or recovered Christianity might have been put
to hard shocks as to the virtues he had learnt among the Moslems. At
any rate Arthur often had reason to declare in after life that the poor
renegade might have put many a better-trained Christian to shame.
CHAPTER X--ON BOARD THE 'CALYPSO'
'From when this youth?
His country, name, and birth declare!'
SCOTT.
'You had forgotten this legacy, Mr. Hope,' said Captain Beresford,
taking Arthur into his cabin, 'and, judging by its weight, it is hardly
to be neglected. I put it into my locker for security.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Arthur. 'The question is whether I ought to
take it. I wished for your advice.'
'I heard what passed,' said the captain. 'I should call your right as
complete as if you had a will made by a half a dozen lawyers. When we
get into port, a few crowns to the ship's company to drink your health,
and all will be right. Will you count it?'
The folds were undone, and little piles made of the gold, but neither
the captain nor Arthur were much the wiser. The purser might have
computed it, but Captain Beresford did not propose this, thinking
perhaps that it was safer that no report of a treasure should get
abroad in the ship.
He made a good many inquiries, which he had deferred till Arthur should
be in a fitter condition for answering, first about the capture and
wreck, and what the young man had been able to gather about the
Cabeleyzes. Then, as the replies showed that he had a gentleman before
him, Captain Beresford added that he could not help asking, 'Que diable
allait il faire dans cette galere?'
'Sir,' said Arthur, 'I do not know whether you will think it your duty
to make me a prisoner, but I had better tell you the whole truth.'
'Oho!' said the captain; 'but you are too young! You could never have
been out with--with--we'll call him the Chevalier.'
'I ran away from school,' replied Arthur, colouring. 'I was a mere
boy, and I never was attainted,' explained Arthur, blushing. 'I have
been with my Lord Nithsdale, and my mother thought I could safely come
home, and that if I came from Sweden my brother could not think I
compromised him.'
'Your brother?'
'Lord Burnside. He is at Court, in favour, they say, with King George.
He is my half-brother; my mother is a Maxwell.'
'There is a Hope in garrison at Port Mahon--a captain,' said the
captain. 'Perhaps he will advise you what to do if you are sick of
Jacobite intrigue and mystery, and ready to serve King George.'
Arthur's face lighted up. 'Will it be James Hope of Ryelands, or
Dickie Hope of the Lynn, or--?'
Captain Beresford held up his hands.
'Time must show that, my young friend,' he said, smiling. 'And now I
think the officers expect you to join their mess in the gunroom.'
There Arthur found the little Chevalier strutting about in an
adaptation of the smallest midshipman's uniform, and the centre of an
admiring party, who were equally diverted by his consequential airs and
by his accounts of his sports among the Moors. Happy fellow, he could
adapt himself to any society, and was ready to be the pet and plaything
of the ship's company, believing himself, when he thought of anything
beyond the present, to be full on the road to his friends again.
Fareek was a much more difficult charge, for Arthur had hardly a word
that he could understand. He found the poor fellow coiled up in a
corner, just where he had seen his former master's remains disappear,
still moaning and weeping bitterly. As Arthur called to him he looked
up for a moment, then crawled forward, striking his forehead at
intervals against the deck. He was about to kiss the feet of his
former fellow-slave, the glittering gold, blue, and white of whose
borrowed dress no doubt impressed him. Arthur hastily started back, to
the amazement of the spectators, and called out a negative--one of the
words sure to be first learnt. He tried to take Fareek's hand and
raise him from his abject attitude; but the poor fellow continued
kneeling, and not only were no words available to tell him that he was
free, but it was extremely doubtful whether freedom was any boon to
him. One thing, however, he did evidently understand--he pointed to
the St. George's pennant with the red cross, made the sign, looked an
interrogation, and on Arthur's reply, 'Christians,' and reiteration of
the word 'Salem,' PEACE, he folded his arms and looked reassured.
'Ay, ay, my hearty,' said the big boatswain, 'ye've got under the old
flag, and we'll soon make you see the difference. Cut out your poor
tongue, have they, the rascals, and made a dummy of you? I wish my cat
was about their ears! Come along with you, and you shall find what
British grog is made of.'
And a remarkable friendship arose between the two, the boatswain
patronising Fareek on every occasion, and roaring at him as if he were
deaf as well as dumb, and Fareek appearing quite confident under his
protection, and establishing a system of signs, which were fortunately
a universal language. The Abyssinian evidently viewed himself as young
Hope's servant or slave, probably thinking himself part of his late
master's bequest, and there was no common language between them in
which to explain the difference or ascertain the poor fellow's wishes.
He was a slightly-made, dexterous man, probably about five and twenty
years of age, and he caught up very quickly, by imitation, the care he
could take of Arthur's clothes, and the habit of waiting on him at
meals.
Meantime the Calypso held her course to the south-east, till the chart
declared the coast to be that of Djigheli Bay, and Arthur recognised
the headlands whither the unfortunate tartane had drifted to her
destruction. Anchoring outside the hay, Captain Beresford sent the
first lieutenant, Mr. Bullock, in the long-boat, with Arthur and a
well-armed force, with instructions to offer no violence, but to
reconnoitre; and if they found Mademoiselle de Bourke, or any others of
the party, to do their best for their release by promises of ransom or
representations of the consequences of detaining them. Arthur was
prepared to offer his own piastres at once in case of need of immediate
payment. He was by this time tolerably versed in the vernacular of the
Mediterranean, and a cook's boy, shipped at Gibraltar, was also
supposed to be capable of interpreting.
The beautiful bay, almost realising the description of AEneas' landing-
place, lay before them, the still green waters within reflecting the
fantastic rocks and the wreaths of verdure which crowned them, while
the white mountain-tops rose like clouds in the far distance against
the azure sky. Arthur could only, however, think of all this fair
scene as a cruel prison, and those sharp rocks as the jaws of a trap,
when he saw the ribs of the tartane still jammed into the rock where
she had struck, and where he had saved the two children as they were
washed up the hatchway. He saw the rock where the other three had
clung, and where he had left the little girl. He remembered the crowd
of howling, yelling savages, leaping and gesticulating on the beach,
and his heart trembled as he wondered how it had ended.
Where were the Cabeleyzes who had thus greeted them? The bay seemed
perfectly lonely. Not a sound was to be heard but the regular dip of
the oars, the cry of a startled bird, and the splash of a flock of
seals, which had been sunning themselves on the shore, and which
floundered into the sea like Proteus' flock of yore before Ulysses.
Would that Proteus himself had still been there to be captured and
interrogated! For the place was so entirely deserted that, saving for
the remains of the wreck, he must have believed himself mistaken in the
locality, and the lieutenant began to question him whether it had been
daylight when he came ashore.
Could the natives have hidden themselves at sight of an armed vessel?
Mr. Bullock resolved on landing, very cautiously, and with a sufficient
guard. On the shore some fragments of broken boxes and packing cases
appeared; and a sailor pointed out the European lettering painted on
one--sse de B-. It plainly was part of the address to the Comtesse de
Bourke. This encouraged the party in their search. They ascended the
path which poor Hebert and Lanty Callaghan had so often painfully
climbed, and found themselves before the square of reed hovels, also
deserted, but with black marks where fires had been lighted, and with
traces of recent habitation.
Arthur picked up a rag of the Bourke livery, and another of a brocade
which he had seen the poor Countess wearing. Was this all the relic
that he should ever be able to take to her husband?
He peered about anxiously in hopes of discovering further tokens, and
Mr. Bullock was becoming impatient of his lingering, when suddenly his
eye was struck by a score on the bark of a chestnut tree like a cross,
cut with a feeble hand. Beneath, close to the trunk, was a stone,
beyond the corner of which appeared a bit of paper. He pounced upon
it. It was the title-page of Estelle's precious Telemaque, and on the
back was written in French, If any good Christian ever finds this, I
pray him to carry it to M. the French Consul at Algiers. We are five
poor prisoners, the Abbe de St. Eudoce, Estelle, daughter of the Comte
de Bourke, and our servants, Jacques Hebert, Laurent Callaghan,
Victorine Renouf. The Cabeleyzes are taking us away to their
mountains. We are in slavery, in hunger, filth, and deprivation of all
things. We pray day and night that the good God will send some one to
rescue us, for we are in great misery, and they persecute us to make us
deny our faith. O, whoever you may be, come and deliver us while we
are yet alive.'
Arthur was almost choked with tears as he translated this piteous
letter to the lieutenant, and recollected the engaging, enthusiastic
little maiden, as he had seen her on the Rhone, but now brought to such
a state. He implored Mr. Bullock to pursue the track up the mountain,
and was grieved at this being treated as absurdly impossible, but then
recollecting himself, 'You could not, sir, but I might follow her and
make them understand that she must be saved--'
'And give them another captive,' said Bullock; 'I thought you had had
enough of that. You will do more good to this flame of yours--'
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