The Two Admirals Read online

  CHAPTER II.

  ----"How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles! Half-way down Hangs one that gathers samphire! dreadful trade!"

  KING LEAR.

  This digression on the family of Wychecombe has led us far from thesignal-station, the head-land, and the fog, with which the tale opened.The little dwelling connected with the station stood at a short distancefrom the staff, sheltered, by the formation of the ground, from thebleak winds of the channel, and fairly embowered in shrubs and flowers.It was a humble cottage, that had been ornamented with more taste thanwas usual in England at that day. Its whitened walls, thatched roof,picketed garden, and trellised porch, bespoke care, and a mentalimprovement in the inmates, that were scarcely to be expected in personsso humbly employed as the keeper of the signal-staff, and his family.All near the house, too, was in the same excellent condition; for whilethe head-land itself lay in common, this portion of it was enclosed intwo or three pretty little fields, that were grazed by a single horse,and a couple of cows. There were no hedges, however, the thorn notgrowing willingly in a situation so exposed; but the fields were dividedby fences, neatly enough made of wood, that declared its own origin,having in fact been part of the timbers and planks of a wreck. As thewhole was whitewashed, it had a rustic, and in a climate where the sunis seldom oppressive, by no means a disagreeable appearance.

  The scene with which we desire to commence the tale, opens about seveno'clock on a July morning. On a bench at the foot of the signal-staff,was seated one of a frame that was naturally large and robust, but whichwas sensibly beginning to give way, either by age or disease. A glanceat the red, bloated face, would suffice to tell a medical man, that thehabits had more to do with the growing failure of the system, than anynatural derangement of the physical organs. The face, too, wassingularly manly, and had once been handsome, even; nay, it was notaltogether without claims to be so considered still; though intemperancewas making sad inroads on its comeliness. This person was about fiftyyears old, and his air, as well as his attire, denoted a mariner; not acommon seaman, nor yet altogether an officer; but one of those of amiddle station, who in navies used to form a class by themselves; beingof a rank that entitled them to the honours of the quarter-deck, thoughout of the regular line of promotion. In a word, he wore theunpretending uniform of a master. A century ago, the dress of theEnglish naval officer was exceedingly simple, though more appropriate tothe profession perhaps, than the more showy attire that has since beenintroduced. Epaulettes were not used by any, and the anchor button, withthe tint that is called navy blue, and which is meant to represent thedeep hue of the ocean, with white facings, composed the principalpeculiarities of the dress. The person introduced to the reader, whosename was Dutton, and who was simply the officer in charge of thesignal-station, had a certain neatness about his well-worn uniform, hislinen, and all of his attire, which showed that some person moreinterested in such matters than one of his habits was likely to be, hadthe care of his wardrobe. In this respect, indeed, his appearance wasunexceptionable; and there was an air about the whole man which showedthat nature, if not education, had intended him for something far betterthan the being he actually was.

  Dutton was waiting, at that early hour, to ascertain, as the veil ofmist was raised from the face of the sea, whether a sail might be insight, that required of him the execution of any of his simplefunctions. That some one was near by, on the head-land, too, was quiteevident, by the occasional interchange of speech; though no person buthimself was visible. The direction of the sounds would seem to indicatethat a man was actually over the brow of the cliff, perhaps a hundredfeet removed from the seat occupied by the master.

  "Recollect the sailor's maxim, Mr. Wychecombe," called out Dutton, in awarning voice; "one hand for the king, and the other for self! Thosecliffs are ticklish places; and really it does seem a little unnaturalthat a sea-faring person like yourself, should have so great a passionfor flowers, as to risk his neck in order to make a posy!"

  "Never fear for me, Mr. Dutton," answered a full, manly voice, that onecould have sworn issued from the chest of youth; "never fear for me; wesailors are used to hanging in the air."

  "Ay, with good three-stranded ropes to hold on by, young gentleman. NowHis Majesty's government has just made you an officer, there is a sortof obligation to take care of your life, in order that it may be used,and, at need, given away, in his service."

  "Quite true--quite true, Mr. Dutton--so true, I wonder you think itnecessary to remind me of it. I am very grateful to His Majesty'sgovernment, and--"

  While speaking, the voice seemed to descend, getting at each instantless and less distinct, until, in the end, it became quite inaudible.Dutton looked uneasy, for at that instant a noise was heard, and then itwas quite clear some heavy object was falling down the face of thecliff. Now it was that the mariner felt the want of good nerves, andexperienced the sense of humiliation which accompanied the consciousnessof having destroyed them by his excesses. He trembled in every limb,and, for the moment, was actually unable to rise. A light step at hisside, however, drew a glance in that direction, and his eye fell on theform of a lovely girl of nineteen, his own daughter, Mildred.

  "I heard you calling to some one, father," said the latter, lookingwistfully, but distrustfully at her parent, as if wondering at hisyielding to his infirmity so early in the day; "can I be of service toyou?"

  "Poor Wychecombe!" exclaimed Dutton. "He went over the cliff in searchof a nosegay to offer to yourself, and--and--I fear--greatly fear--"

  "What, father?" demanded Mildred, in a voice of horror, the rich colordisappearing from a face which it left of the hue of death."No--no--no--he _cannot_ have fallen."

  Dutton bent his head down, drew a long breath, and then seemed to gainmore command of his nerves. He was about to rise, when the sound of ahorse's feet was heard, and then Sir Wycherly Wychecombe, mounted on aquiet pony, rode slowly up to the signal-staff. It was a common thingfor the baronet to appear on the cliffs early in the morning, but it wasnot usual for him to come unattended. The instant her eyes fell on thefine form of the venerable old man, Mildred, who seemed to know himwell, and to use the familiarity of one confident of being a favourite,exclaimed--

  "Oh! Sir Wycherly, how fortunate--where is Richard?"

  "Good morrow, my pretty Milly," answered the baronet, cheerfully;"fortunate or not, here I am, and not a bit flattered that your firstquestion should be after the groom, instead of his master. I have sentDick on a message to the vicar's. Now my poor brother, the judge, isdead and gone, I find Mr. Rotherham more and more necessary to me."

  "Oh! dear Sir Wycherly--Mr. Wychecombe--Lieutenant Wychecombe, Imean--the young officer from Virginia--he who was so desperatelywounded--in whose recovery we all took so deep an interest--"

  "Well--what of him, child?--you surely do not mean to put him on a levelwith Mr. Rotherham, in the way of religious consolation--and, as foranything else, there is no consanguinity between the Wychecombes ofVirginia and my family. He may be a _filius nullius_ of the Wychecombesof Wychecombe-Regis, Herts, but has no connection with those ofWychecombe-Hall, Devonshire."

  "There--there--the cliff!--the cliff!" added Mildred, unable, for themoment, to be more explicit.

  As the girl pointed towards the precipice, and looked the very image ofhorror, the good-hearted old baronet began to get some glimpses of thetruth; and, by means of a few words with Dutton, soon knew quite as muchas his two companions. Descending from his pony with surprising activityfor one of his years, Sir Wycherly was soon on his feet, and a sort ofconfused consultation between the three succeeded. Neither liked toapproach the cliff, which was nearly perpendicular at the extremity ofthe head-land, and was always a trial to the nerves of those who shrunkfrom standing on the verge of precipices. They stood like personsparalyzed, until Dutton, ashamed of his weakness, and recalling thethousand l
essons in coolness and courage he had received in his ownmanly profession, made a movement towards advancing to the edge of thecliff, in order to ascertain the real state of the case. The bloodreturned to the cheeks of Mildred, too, and she again found a portion ofher natural spirit raising her courage.

  "Stop, father," she said, hastily; "you are infirm, and are in a tremourat this moment. My head is steadier--let me go to the verge of the hill,and learn what has happened."

  This was uttered with a forced calmness that deceived her auditors, bothof whom, the one from age, and the other from shattered nerves, werecertainly in no condition to assume the same office. It required theall-seeing eye, which alone can scan the heart, to read all the agonizedsuspense with which that young and beautiful creature approached thespot, where she might command a view of the whole of the side of thefearful declivity, from its giddy summit to the base, where it waswashed by the sea. The latter, indeed, could not literally be seen fromabove, the waves having so far undermined the cliff, as to leave aprojection that concealed the point where the rocks and the water cameabsolutely in contact; the upper portion of the weather-worn rocksfalling a little inwards, so as to leave a ragged surface that wassufficiently broken to contain patches of earth, and verdure, sprinkledwith the flowers peculiar to such an exposure. The fog, also,intercepted the sight, giving to the descent the appearance of afathomless abyss. Had the life of the most indifferent person been injeopardy, under the circumstances named, Mildred would have been filledwith deep awe; but a gush of tender sensations, which had hitherto beenpent up in the sacred privacy of her virgin affections, struggled withnatural horror, as she trod lightly on the very verge of the declivity,and cast a timid but eager glance beneath. Then she recoiled a step,raised her hands in alarm, and hid her face, as if to shut out somefrightful spectacle.

  By this time, Dutton's practical knowledge and recollection hadreturned. As is common with seamen, whose minds contain vivid picturesof the intricate tracery of their vessel's rigging in the darkestnights, his thoughts had flashed athwart all the probable circumstances,and presented a just image of the facts.

  "The boy could not be seen had he absolutely fallen, and were there nofog; for the cliff tumbles home, Sir Wycherly," he said, eagerly,unconsciously using a familiar nautical phrase to express his meaning."He must be clinging to the side of the precipice, and that, too, abovethe swell of the rocks."

  Stimulated by a common feeling, the two men now advanced hastily to thebrow of the hill, and there, indeed, as with Mildred herself, a singlelook sufficed to tell them the whole truth. Young Wychecombe, in leaningforward to pluck a flower, had pressed so hard upon the bit of rock onwhich a foot rested, as to cause it to break, thereby losing hisbalance. A presence of mind that amounted almost to inspiration, and ahigh resolution, alone saved him from being dashed to pieces. Perceivingthe rock to give way, he threw himself forward, and alighted on a narrowshelf, a few feet beneath the place where he had just stood, and atleast ten feet removed from it, laterally. The shelf on which healighted was ragged, and but two or three feet wide. It would haveafforded only a check to his fall, had there not fortunately been someshrubs among the rocks above it. By these shrubs the young man caught,actually swinging off in the air, under the impetus of his leap.Happily, the shrubs were too well rooted to give way; and, swinginghimself round, with the address of a sailor, the youthful lieutenant wasimmediately on his feet, in comparative safety. The silence thatsucceeded was the consequence of the shock he felt, in finding him sosuddenly thrown into this perilous situation. The summit of the cliffwas now about six fathoms above his head, and the shelf on which hestood, impended over a portion of the cliff that was absolutelyperpendicular, and which might be said to be out of the line of thoseprojections along which he had so lately been idly gathering flowers. Itwas physically impossible for any human being to extricate himself fromsuch a situation, without assistance. This Wychecombe understood at aglance, and he had passed the few minutes that intervened between hisfall and the appearance of the party above him, in devising the meansnecessary to his liberation. As it was, few men, unaccustomed to thegiddy elevations of the mast, could have mustered a sufficient commandof nerve to maintain a position on the ledge where he stood. Even hecould not have continued there, without steadying his form by the aid ofthe bushes.

  As soon as the baronet and Dutton got a glimpse of the perilous positionof young Wychecombe, each recoiled in horror from the sight, as iffearful of being precipitated on top of him. Both, then, actually laydown on the grass, and approached the edge of the cliff again, in thathumble attitude, even trembling as they lay at length, with their chinsprojecting over the rocks, staring downwards at the victim. The youngman could see nothing of all this; for, as he stood with his backagainst the cliff, he had not room to turn, with safety, or even to lookupwards. Mildred, however, seemed to lose all sense of self and ofdanger, in view of the extremity in which the youth beneath was placed.She stood on the very verge of the precipice, and looked down withsteadiness and impunity that would have been utterly impossible for herto attain under less exciting circumstances; even allowing the young manto catch a glimpse of her rich locks, as they hung about her beautifulface.

  "For God's sake, Mildred," called out the youth, "keep further from thecliff--I see you, and we can now hear each other without so much risk."

  "What can we do to rescue you, Wychecombe?" eagerly asked the girl."Tell me, I entreat you; for Sir Wycherly and my father are bothunnerved!"

  "Blessed creature! and _you_ are mindful of my danger! But, be notuneasy, Mildred; do as I tell you, and all will yet be well. I hope youhear and understand what I say, dearest girl?"

  "Perfectly," returned Mildred, nearly choked by the effort to be calm."I hear every syllable--speak on."

  "Go you then to the signal-halyards--let one end fly loose, and pullupon the other, until the whole line has come down--when that is done,return here, and I will tell you more--but, for heaven's sake, keepfarther from the cliff."

  The thought that the rope, small and frail as it seemed, might be ofuse, flashed on the brain of the girl; and in a moment she was at thestaff. Time and again, when liquor incapacitated her father to performhis duty, had Mildred bent-on, and hoisted the signals for him; andthus, happily, she was expert in the use of the halyards. In a minuteshe had unrove them, and the long line lay in a little pile at her feet.

  "'Tis done, Wycherly," she said, again looking over the cliff; "shall Ithrow you down one end of the rope?--but, alas! I have not strength toraise you; and Sir Wycherly and father seem unable to assist me!"

  "Do not hurry yourself, Mildred, and all will be well. Go, and put oneend of the line around the signal-staff, then put the two ends together,tie them in a knot, and drop them down over my head. Be careful not tocome too near the cliff, for--"

  The last injunction was useless, Mildred having flown to execute hercommission. Her quick mind readily comprehended what was expected ofher, and her nimble fingers soon performed their task. Tying a knot inthe ends of the line, she did as desired, and the small rope was soondangling within reach of Wychecombe's arm. It is not easy to make alandsman understand the confidence which a sailor feels in a rope. Placebut a frail and rotten piece of twisted hemp in his hand, and he willrisk his person in situations from which he would otherwise recoil indread. Accustomed to hang suspended in the air, with ropes only for hisfoothold, or with ropes to grasp with his hand, his eye gets anintuitive knowledge of what will sustain him, and he unhesitatinglytrusts his person to a few seemingly slight strands, that, to oneunpractised, appear wholly unworthy of his confidence. Signal-halyardsare ropes smaller than the little finger of a man of any size; but theyare usually made with care, and every rope-yarn tells. Wychecombe, too,was aware that these particular halyards were new, for he had assistedin reeving them himself, only the week before. It was owing to thiscircumstance that they were long enough to reach him; a large allowancefor wear and tear having been made in cutting them from the coil. As itw
as, the ends dropped some twenty feet below the ledge on which hestood.

  "All safe, now, Mildred!" cried the young man, in a voice of exultationthe moment his hand caught the two ends of the line, which heimmediately passed around his body, beneath the arms, as a precautionagainst accidents. "All safe, now, dearest girl; have no further concernabout me."

  Mildred drew back, for worlds could not have tempted her to witness thedesperate effort that she knew must follow. By this time, Sir Wycherly,who had been an interested witness of all that passed, found his voice,and assumed the office of director.

  "Stop, my young namesake," he eagerly cried, when he found that thesailor was about to make an effort to drag his own body up the cliff;"stop; that will never do; let Dutton and me do that much for you, atleast. We have seen all that has passed, and are now able to dosomething."

  "No--no, Sir Wycherly--on no account touch the halyards. By hauling themover the top of the rocks you will probably cut them, or part them, andthen I'm lost, without hope!"

  "Oh! Sir Wycherly," said Mildred, earnestly, clasping her handstogether, as if to enforce the request with prayer; "do not--do nottouch the line."

  "We had better let the lad manage the matter in his own way," put inDutton; "he is active, resolute, and a seaman, and will do better forhimself than I fear we can do for him. He has got a turn round his body,and is tolerably safe against any slip, or mishap."

  As the words were uttered, the whole three drew back a short distanceand watched the result, in intense anxiety. Dutton, however, so farrecollected himself, as to take an end of the old halyards, which werekept in a chest at the foot of the staff, and to make, an attempt tostopper together the two parts of the little rope on which the youthdepended, for should one of the parts of it break, without thisprecaution, there was nothing to prevent the halyards from running roundthe staff, and destroying the hold. The size of the halyards renderedthis expedient very difficult of attainment, but enough was done to givethe arrangement a little more of the air of security. All this timeyoung Wychecombe was making his own preparations on the ledge, and quiteout of view; but the tension on the halyards soon announced that hisweight was now pendent from them. Mildred's heart seemed ready to leapfrom her mouth, as she noted each jerk on the lines; and her fatherwatched every new pull, as if he expected the next moment would producethe final catastrophe. It required a prodigious effort in the young manto raise his own weight for such a distance, by lines so small. Had therope been of any size, the achievement would have been trifling for oneof the frame and habits of the sailor, more especially as he couldslightly avail himself of his feet, by pressing them against the rocks;but, as it was, he felt as if he were dragging the mountain up afterhim. At length, his head appeared a few inches above the rocks, but withhis feet pressed against the cliff, and his body inclining outward, atan angle of forty-five degrees.

  "Help him--help him, father!" exclaimed Mildred, covering her face withher hands, to exclude the sight of Wychecombe's desperate struggles. "Ifhe fall now, he will be destroyed. Oh! save him, save him, SirWycherly!"

  But neither of those to whom she appealed, could be of any use. Thenervous trembling again came over the father; and as for the baronet,age and inexperience rendered him helpless.

  "Have you no rope, Mr. Dutton, to throw over my shoulders," criedWychecombe, suspending his exertions in pure exhaustion, still keepingall he had gained, with his head projecting outward, over the abyssbeneath, and his face turned towards heaven. "Throw a rope over myshoulders, and drag my body in to the cliff."

  Dutton showed an eager desire to comply, but his nerves had not yet beenexcited by the usual potations, and his hands shook in a way to renderit questionable whether he could perform even this simple service. Butfor his daughter, indeed, he would hardly have set about itintelligently. Mildred, accustomed to using the signal-halyards,procured the old line, and handed it to her father, who discovered someof his professional knowledge in his manner of using it. Doubling thehalyards twice, he threw the bight over Wychecombe's shoulders, andaided by Mildred, endeavoured to draw the body of the young man upwardsand towards the cliff. But their united strength was unequal to thetask, and wearied with holding on, and, indeed, unable to support hisown weight any longer by so small a rope, Wychecombe felt compelled tosuffer his feet to drop beneath him, and slid down again upon the ledge.Here, even his vigorous frame shook with its prodigious exertions; andhe was compelled to seat himself on the shelf, and rest with his backagainst the cliff, to recover his self-command and strength. Mildreduttered a faint shriek as he disappeared, but was too muchhorror-stricken to approach the verge of the precipice to ascertain hisfate.

  "Be composed, Milly," said her father, "he is safe, as you may see bythe halyards; and to say the truth, the stuff holds on well. So long asthe line proves true, the boy can't fall; he has taken a double turnwith the end of it round his body. Make your mind easy, girl, for I feelbetter now, and see my way clear. Don't be uneasy, Sir Wycherly; we'llhave the lad safe on _terra firma_ again, in ten minutes. I scarce knowwhat has come over me, this morning; but I've not had the command of mylimbs as in common. It cannot be fright, for I've seen too many men indanger to be disabled by _that_; and I think, Milly, it must be therheumatism, of which I've so often spoken, and which I've inherited frommy poor mother, dear old soul. Do you know, Sir Wycherly, thatrheumatism can be inherited like gout?"

  "I dare say it may--I dare say it may, Dutton--but never mind thedisease, now; get my young namesake back here on the grass, and I willhear all about it. I would give the world that I had not sent Dick toMr. Rotherham's this morning. Can't we contrive to make the pony pullthe boy up?"

  "The traces are hardly strong enough for such work, Sir Wycherly. Have alittle patience, and I will manage the whole thing, 'ship-shape, andBrister fashion,' as we say at sea. Halloo there, MasterWychecombe--answer my hail, and I will soon get you into deep water."

  "I'm safe on the ledge," returned the voice of Wychecombe, from below;"I wish you would look to the signal-halyards, and see they do not chafeagainst the rocks, Mr. Dutton."

  "All right, sir; all right. Slack up, if you please, and let me have allthe line you can, without casting off from your body. Keep fast the endfor fear of accidents."

  In an instant the halyards slackened, and Dutton, who by this time hadgained his self-command, though still weak and unnerved by the habits ofthe last fifteen years, forced the bight along the edge of the cliff,until he had brought it over a projection of the rocks, where itfastened itself. This arrangement caused the line to lead down to thepart of the cliffs from which the young man had fallen, and where it wasby no means difficult for a steady head and active limbs to move aboutand pluck flowers. It consequently remained for Wychecombe merely toregain a footing on that part of the hill-side, to ascend to the summitwithout difficulty. It is true he was now below the point from which hehad fallen, but by swinging himself off laterally, or even by springing,aided by the line, it was not a difficult achievement to reach it, andhe no sooner understood the nature of the change that had been made,than he set about attempting it. The confident manner of Duttonencouraged both the baronet and Mildred, and they drew to the cliff,again; standing near the verge, though on the part where the rocks mightbe descended, with less apprehension of consequences.

  As soon as Wychecombe had made all his preparations, he stood on the endof the ledge, tightened the line, looked carefully for a foothold on theother side of the chasm, and made his leap. As a matter of course, thebody of the young man swung readily across the space, until the linebecame perpendicular, and then he found a surface so broken, as torender his ascent by no means difficult, aided as he was by thehalyards. Scrambling upwards, he soon rejected the aid of the line, andsprang upon the head-land. At the same instant, Mildred fell senselesson the grass.