First Love. Mrs. Loudon
the hills that rose around it, and to every opaque object laying or moving on its peaceful surface. Perpetual, though imperceptibly wrought changes were each moment taking place in every thing around. The clouds near the horizon breaking, the still illumined western sky shed awhile a brilliant ray: the clouds closed again, and left all darker than before. The trees on the western hill stood for a few seconds strongly defined by the parting beam; then faded with the fading light. Some of the larger vessels, more lately arrived than the rest of the fleet, with majestic progress passed slowly to their places of anchorage. Single-masted boats, (warned by the approach of evening,) one by one drew smoothly towards the shore, changing, as they did so, at each moment, the disposition of their sails; and, finally, taking all down as they came to for the night under shelter of a projecting point. Alongside the same point, numerous row-boats, having shipped their oars as they drew near, fell silently; while the single figure that had guided each, might shortly after be traced wandering homeward along the extended beach.
When the boat in which our hero sat had gone about twenty yards, they were hailed from their own ship, and desired by the officer of the watch to lay on their oars till further orders. Some time of anxious suspense followed, during which the approaches of night were as rapid as they were silent, and all objects were visibly shrouding themselves in that mysterious gloom which imagination loves to people with shadowy forms, when the flash of the evening gun was seen from the admiral’s ship, followed by a report which, with startling effect, broke upon the universal stillness, then rolled along like distant thunder up the harbour. As the last sound died away, they were hailed again, ordered to come alongside, and Mr. Montgomery to come on board. Our hero obeyed the order, and was not a little surprised, on reaching the deck, to find all the ship’s company assembled there. In a few minutes, the captain and officers, preceded by lights, and accompanied by the strange midshipman who had passed the boat on its first quitting the ship, ascended the hatchway, and arranged themselves on the quarter-deck. Edmund was ordered to draw near. He did so; when the captain, addressing the stranger, in a tone which showed he wished to be heard by all present, said, “Lord Ormond, will you have the goodness to repeat, in the hearing of my officers and the whole ship’s company, the deposition you have made to me respecting Mr. Montgomery.”
The stranger, a mild-looking lad, about Edmund’s own age, came forward and said, that he had been in the tiers of the stranded vessel, calling off his own men, when Mr. Montgomery came in to collect his; that his attention had been fixed by that gentleman’s very proper conduct, which he here explained minutely, dwelling on our hero’s effort to rescue Henry; and his declaration, that were the beverage but water, he would not, for example sake, suffer a glass to be seen approach his lips, &c., till he came to where Edmund was pulled to the ground by the fall of Henry. He then proceeded to say, that he himself was about to go to his assistance, when, seeing the officer who came in search of both young men enter, he had hurried to his own boat, it being late.
Here the captain again spoke, saying, that as all had had reason to believe Mr. Montgomery’s conduct disgraceful, he had deemed it necessary that all should be thus publicly informed of his innocence, as well as made sensible of his, the captain’s, sufficient reasons for so sudden a change of measures towards him. He then turned to our hero, and expressed himself as highly gratified, to find the favourable opinion he had formed of his character thus justified. Captain B. here renewed the order to have Mr. St. Aubin immediately sent a-shore.
The stranger, Lord Ormond, who was the son of Admiral Lord Fitz-Ullin, got himself presented to Mr. Montgomery; and Edmund, anxious to express his gratitude, requested his new acquaintance to tell him by what fortunate circumstance he had become his deliverer.
“If any one deserves that title,” answered Ormond, “it is my father. I fear I was rather negligent in not remaining to assist you; but I had been already detained much too late. In my own justification, I described the scene I had just witnessed, and the consequent interest I could not avoid taking in what was passing; when, happening to say that the other gentleman called you Montgomery, my father repeated the name, and, after considering for a moment, exclaimed, ‘Why, that is the name of Lord L.’s young friend! If it be the same, he must be in the Glorious, Captain B., which came in this morning with the Cadiz fleet.’ I mentioned about what age you appeared to be; upon which my father started up, saying, ‘I could almost venture to affirm, that that young man has got into a serious scrape! You had better, Ormond,’ he continued, ‘go instantly on board the Glorious, present my compliments to Captain B., and recount all you witnessed of the business.’ ”
Before the young men parted, Ormond gave a message, of which he was the bearer, inviting Mr. Montgomery to dine with Lord Fitz-Ullin on the following day.
CHAPTER XXIII.
“A vision came in on the moon-beam.”
Henry, left on the beach, with his chest beside him, slept heavily for some hours. When he awoke it was night. He lay on the shingles. He felt the fresh breath of the breeze, as, from time to time, it lifted the hair on his fevered temples. He heard the dash of each billow as it struck the shore, and the rattle of the loose stones, as each wave retired again, down the extended sloping bank of smooth pebbles, on which his head was pillowed. Thinking it all a dream, he remained for some moments motionless; when, becoming more clearly awake, he sat up, and passed his hand across his eyes, as it were to rectify their vision.
The moon had risen over the expanse of waters before him. He gazed on the sparkling of her myriad beams, mingling in fairy dance o’er all the solitary waste, for not a sail or mast appeared. He looked on his right hand, and on his left; here too all was loneliness!
His ideas still bewildered, he rested his eyes on the pillar of light, which the bright orb exactly opposite to him, and still near the horizon, had flung across the whole ocean, planting its base at his very feet. On a sudden this dazzling object became obscured, and he beheld, standing over him, and intercepting its refulgence, the same remarkable figure which, it may be remembered, Mr. Jackson had seen walking with him, about eight years since, in the shrubbery at Lodore House.
CHAPTER XXIV.
“The darts of death,
Are but hail to me, so oft they’ve bounded
From my shield!”
“No boy’s staff his spear!”
“No harmless beam
Of light, his sword.”
The next day, according to appointment, Edmund went to dine on board the Erina. Arriving rather early, he found Lord Fitz-Ullin alone in his cabin, reading a newspaper.
His lordship received our hero with the greatest cordiality, saying, he was happy to have it in his power to show any mark of attention, however trifling, to the young friend of Lord L.; “particularly,” he added, smiling, “as my office of patron is, I understand, to be quite a sinecure, I am the more called upon to discover minor modes of proving my friendship. You have already, I am informed, Mr. Montgomery,” he continued, “by your gallant conduct, so far cut your own way, that you are to receive your commission immediately, without any interference on my part. But, remember, my interest is only laid up for the first occasion on which it may be required, when you shall command it in a double proportion.”
Edmund was commencing a speech of thanks, but was prevented by Lord Fitz-Ullin, who said, “By the bye, Ormond is going up to the next examination, which will take place in a day or two. Had you not better go with him? You can then pass, and be made, without any unnecessary delays; and, if you have no objection to sail with me, we can have you appointed to the Erina on your promotion.”
Edmund was delighted with this arrangement; and, as he smiled, and made his grateful acknowledgments, and even when he had concluded, he observed Lord Fitz-Ullin’s eyes resting