The colonel stood as if snuffing up the smoke of battle, and coolly criticising the manoeuvres of the combatants.

The interests of Pedro Alvarez seemed now to side with the flag of France, under which he had so long fought, now with the "Scorpion,"

commanded by his friend. Lawrence kept moving about the platform rubbing his hands and cheering loudly every time a broadside was delivered.

"Well done, 'Scorpion'!"

"Bravo, my boy!" shouted Lord Claymore and Rolf, in concert, as the Frenchman's foretop-mast went over the side.

This caused him to luff up, and the "Scorpion," shooting ahead, poured a raking broadside into his bows. On this, the Frenchman's helm was put to starboard, by which he was able to fire his. .h.i.therto disengaged starboard broadside. It had, however, the effect of bringing his head round, and now once more he stood towards the land, while the "Scorpion"

ran on in an opposite direction. It was but for a minute, she also quickly came about and ranged up on the enemy's weather beam, pouring in the whole of her larboard broadside.

As the smoke cleared away, the Frenchman was seen with her foremast and main-top-mast gone, while the "Scorpion" did not appear to have lost a spar.

"Hurrah, my brave Ronald! the day is yours," shouted Rolf. "It is but a matter of time."

Still the Frenchman fired on, but the wreck of his masts seemed to impede the working of his foremost guns. It appeared as if the "Scorpion" was about again to pa.s.s ahead, when the two ships met, and lay locked together in a deadly embrace. The guns continued to roar as before, and clouds of smoke enveloped the combatants. It was a period of awful suspense--no one on the platform spoke. The firing ceased; the canopy of smoke disappeared. The two flags of England and France flew out as before from the peaks of the two ships.

"Morton has boarded the Frenchman," cried Lord Claymore at length. "No doubt now as to the result. The Frenchmen fight bravely though. At them again, my boys! Hurrah!--hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" shouted Rolf.

"Down comes the Frenchmen's flag."

The fight was over, the "Scorpion" was the victor.

The two ships rapidly approached, steering for the west end of Eastling Island, and when at the entrance of the sound, and not far from the castle, they both came to an anchor. A boat was seen to be lowered from the "Scorpion," and with rapid strokes to approach the castle. With what eagerness did Edda watch her till she could distinguish the people on board. She uttered a cry of joy as she saw Ronald himself steering the boat. At the same time she perceived a person stretched at his length in the stern sheets. Poor Donna Julia almost fainted with alarm lest Glover should be the wounded man. Together they hurried down to the landing-place, where the rest of the party had already gone.

Where all this time was Hilda? She, too, had witnessed the fight. She had seen the desperate struggle, the flag of France hauled down, the ships brought to an anchor, and a wounded officer lowered into the boat.

A vague, yet overpowering dread had seized her. She attempted to go down that she might meet the boat at the landing-place, but her strength failed, and she sunk back in her chair near the window, whence she could watch the boat as it glided rapidly by.

Her sister found her thus.

"Hilda, nerve yourself for a great trial," she said, as she took her hand to lead her to the door, where Rolf Morton stood ready to conduct her down the steps.

A group was collected round a couch in the great hall. As Hilda entered, they opened out, and a young man in the naval uniform of France was seen extended upon it. Pedro Alvarez stood by him, holding one hand, while the surgeon of the "Scorpion" was feeling the wrist of the other, and administering a restorative. Hilda tottered forward.

"Who is that?" she asked in a hollow voice, as she gazed eagerly at the countenance of the wounded man.

"Madam," said Pedro Alvarez, looking up, "that is Hernan Escalante, your son."

"Mother!" whispered the young officer, and the light returned to his eyes, which had appeared so l.u.s.treless.

"My son, my son, have I indeed found you, and thus sorely wounded!"

cried Hilda, kneeling down to impress a kiss on his brow, while she cast her arms around him.

"I shall soon recover now that I know I have you to live for," he answered, in a faint voice.

"Oh, will he live! Can you cure him?" she exclaimed, turning to the surgeon. "Gold, any amount you can name, shall be your reward if he recovers."

"I will do my best, madam," said the surgeon, bowing; "he is young and strong, and I have seen those who have received worse hurts survive."

Young Hernan was by Hilda's directions carried to her room. Day and night she watched over him, jealous of the interference of all others.

Though he long hung between life and death, her constant care was rewarded, and the surgeon p.r.o.nounced him at length out of danger. He remained, however, too weak to be moved.

The only person besides the surgeon whom Hilda would allow to come near him was the faithful pastor of Lunnasting. He knew well how to minister to a soul diseased; and Hilda herself, while listening to the words of Truth which were addressed to her son, had her own mind enlightened, and was brought to trust to the loving mercy of Him who had restored to her her long-lost child. Hernan, too, awakened to a sense of the sinfulness of the designs which his own evil pa.s.sions had induced him to entertain, sought for pardon through the only means by which pardon can be obtained.

When at length he rose from his sick bed he was truly an altered man, and Pedro Alvarez acknowledged that he loved him better than ever, although a Protestant minister had been the means of his reformation.

Sir Marcus Wardhill died shortly after, in a state of utter imbecility, without recognising his grandson.

On her father's death Hilda accompanied her son to Spain, where Hernan succeeded in establishing his rights to his paternal estates. He had, however, never entirely recovered from his wounds, and in two years Hilda had to endure the grief of seeing him die in her arms; but she bore it with fort.i.tude, and, invited by her loving relatives at Lunnasting, returned to spend the evening of her days in Shetland.

Glover having married Donna Julia, inherited Hernan's estates in Spain.

Their children, brought up partly in the Protestant faith, became the ancestors of those who have since fought the battle for the truth in that long-benighted land.

Pedro Alvarez not being perfectly satisfied that the officers of the Inquisition, though itself abolished, might not by some means get hold of him, continued a welcome inmate to the end of his days at Lunnasting Castle, the constant companion of Lawrence Brindister, who, on the death of Sir Marcus recovered his intellect so far that he was looked upon by Ronald's large family of young cousins as a most agreeable and amusing old gentleman, the chief promoter of every sort of pastime and amus.e.m.e.nt in which they were indulged.

For several years a gaunt old beggar might be seen at the corner of one of the streets of Cadiz, surpa.s.sing his mendicant brethren in the loudness of his complaints and the squalor of the rags which covered him; and one day Glover, pa.s.sing by, recognised in him his quondam acquaintance, the ex-pirate, Tacon.

Father Mendez was never again heard of, nor was any surmise offered as to what had become of him.

As Admiral Sir Ronald Brindister might object to have more of his private history brought to light, we must bring, our tale to a conclusion.

THE END.