"I never before heard you speak of your father," observed the youth.

"I do not like to speak of him; I ran off to sea when I was about ten years old, and when I came back he was dead. There was war enough in England at that time to occupy my active nature: I first joined the King's party, and had my share of wounds and glory at Gainsborough, where I fought with and saw poor Cavendish killed by that devil Cromwell. It was at that same battle his successes began: he had a brave horse-regiment there of his countrymen, most of them freeholders and freeholders' sons, who upon matter of conscience engaged in this quarrel under him. It was there he ousted us with his canting. Gadsooks! they went as regularly to their psalm-singing as they had been in a conventicle; and thus, d'ye see, being armed after their own fanatical fashion within, and without by the best iron armour, they stood as one man, firmly, and charged as one man, desperately.--But we have other things to talk of than him or me; so sit down, young gentleman, and let's hear the news;--or, stay, Robin must first bring us some wine--my warehouse is full of it; I must wash down the poison that fellow has crammed into my throat. Ah! ah! ah! what chafes me is, that, from my cursed reputation, greater villains than myself thrust me forward to do their work, and think they have a right to storm and stare if I have conscience in any thing. But I'll be even with them all yet--with one in particular. That villain!--shall that far greater villain have peace?

'There is no peace, saith my G.o.d, to the wicked.'"

He summoned Robin, who placed on the table some meat and wine, and other matters that supplied a pretty substantial supper: a ceremony, the rendering justice to which affords us sufficient leisure to examine the form and features of the young Cavalier, who, having laid aside his enormous cloak, reclined on some piles of foreign cloths with an ease and grace that belongs only to those of gentle blood. Amid the bustle and occupation of life, it is a simple matter for people of ordinary rank to a.s.sume the bearing of the well-bred; but repose is the true criterion of a gentleman or lady, inasmuch as there is then no motion to take off from an ungraceful att.i.tude or an awkward mien. The features of the Cavalier were almost too high for beauty; and had it not been for a playful smile that frequently flitted across his countenance, elongating his moustache, softening and blending the hard lines that even at four-and-twenty had deepened into furrows, he would have been p.r.o.nounced of severe aspect. Bright golden hair cl.u.s.tered in rich curls over his forehead, and fell a little on either cheek, giving a picturesque character to the form of the head. His eyes appeared of a dark grey; but they were so much sunk, so overshadowed by his forehead, as to leave one in doubt as to their exact colour. His figure was unusually tall and well-formed, and his whole bearing was more that of an accomplished gentleman than of a cut-and-slash cavalier: his manner was neither reckless nor daring, but it was firm and collected. His dress was composed of the finest black cloth, with a black velvet doublet; and his sword-hilt glittered with diamonds.

Robin did not attempt to place himself at the same table, but sat back on a lower seat and at a little distance, sharing his repast with Crisp, who had scrambled down the stairs after his master, and looked ugly enough to be, what he certainly was, an extraordinary canine genius.

Dalton and Walter laboured under no restraint because of the presence of Robin; on the contrary, he occasionally shared in the conversation, and his opinion upon various topics was frequently asked; indeed, he was fond of bestowing it gratuitously, and seemed highly pleased when called upon to express it.

"Didst hear, Robin, when Blake was expected off Sheerness with the Spanish prizes?"

"In a few days, it is said, he will either bring or send them; but my own thought is, that it will be about a week, neither more nor less, before any ship arrives."

"I must get off for the French coast in a day or two," said Dalton; "and I do not care to return until Blake with his train go up the river a bit; for it's foul sailing athwart the brave old boy: he's the only man living I'd strike flag to."

"And who has the care of the Firefly now you're ash.o.r.e?" inquired the Cavalier.

"Why, Jeromio."

"I don't like him," said Robin bluntly: "foreigners are good slaves, but bad masters to us English: I'd rather trust the ship to little Spring."

"He is a mere boy, and too bad a sailor; besides, he is grown so superst.i.tious, swears the devil came to him one night I placed him a watch on yon cliff. I must leave him ash.o.r.e with you, Robin, and tell you what to do with the scapegrace, if I am not back by a particular day. I must also give you a letter to take to Sir Robert Cecil, postponing an appointment I had made with him."

"You had better give the letter to that gentleman," exclaimed Robin, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder to where the Cavalier sat; "he would do an errand to Cecil Place, especially if it were to the Lady Constance, right gladly."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Dalton, fixing his quick eye on the youth's countenance, that betrayed uneasiness but not displeasure. "Sits the wind in that quarter? But tell us, Robin, how was it?"

"There is nothing to tell, Captain," interrupted Walter, "except that Robin accompanied me to the Place, as it is called, to show me some alterations, and point out the excellent order in which the trees are kept; and in the grounds we encountered Mistress Cecil, and, as I am informed, the Lady Cromwell."

"I wish you would keep close here though," muttered Dalton; "you'll be meeting the villain Burrell before----"

"I would fain encounter Sir Willmott Burrell once again, and make him pay the traitor's forfeit."

"Peace--peace! give Burrell rope enough to hang himself. He'll swing as high as Haman ere long. Robin told me of the coward's treachery."

"I wish Robin had not accompanied him to London," exclaimed Walter; "I hate people to carry two faces. But my wonder is that Burrell would trust him."

"Just because he could not help himself," retorted Robin. "He wanted a clever lad who had understanding. His own valet was in France on some business or another mighty mysterious; and a gentleman like him, who has a good character and a foul conscience, a good head and a bad heart, has need of a man of talent, not a loon, about his person. To do full justice, however, to his discretion, he treated me to as few of his secrets as he could, and I endeavoured to save him trouble by finding them all out."

The Buccaneer laughed aloud, but the high-souled Cavalier looked serious.

"Ah! ah!" said Dalton, "you never did relish machinations, and it is well you are not left to yourself in this plan of mine: honour is not the coin to take to a villain's market."

"'Tis the only coin I will ever deal in, Captain; and I told you before I left Cologne, that on no other condition would I accompany you to England, except that of being held clear of every act unbefitting a gentleman or a soldier."

"Young sir," replied Dalton, "when you were indeed young, and long before you took your degree in morality at the rambling court of the second Charles, did I ever counsel you to do aught that your--that, in short, you might not do with perfect honour? I know too well what it is to sacrifice honour to interest ever to wish you to make the trial. As for me, I am low enough in character----"

"My kind preserver! my brave friend!" interrupted Walter, touched at his change of manner. "Forgive such unworthy, such unmerited suspicion. This is not the first time I have had to learn your kindly care for me. But for you----"

"Well, there, there boy--I love to call you boy still; I can bear my own shame, but I could never bear yours."

Dalton paused, apparently with a view to change the subject: the Cavalier observed--

"You quarrel with our young king's morality?"

"I'faith, I do!--though you will say it's ill coming from me to fault any man's conduct; but I hate your little vices as much as your little virtues: sickly, puny goods and evils, that are too weak for sun to ripen, too low for blast to break, but which endure, the same withered, sapless things, to the death-day--Augh! a bold villain, or a real downright good man, for my money. How the devil can Charles Stuart do any thing great, or think of any thing great, with his mistresses and his dogs, his gaming and---- Why, it is hardly a year since I took off from Dover that poor Lucy Barton and her brat, after the poor thing suffering imprisonment in the Tower for his sake!"

"The child's a n.o.ble child," said Walter; "but the mother's a sad reprobate, swears and drinks like a trooper."

"My mother is a woman," exclaimed little Robin, with great gravity, poising a mutton-bone between his fingers, to arrive at which Crisp was making extraordinary efforts,--"and I can't deny that I've a sort of love, though it be a love without hope, for a very pretty girl, a woman also: now this being the case, I'm not fond of hearing women reflected on; for when they're young, they're the delight of our eyes; and when they're old, they're useful, though a trifle crabbed, but still useful; and a house without a woman would be like--like----"

"Robin at fault!" said Dalton: "you've given me many a comparison, and now I'll lend you one--a bell without a clapper; won't that do, Robin?"

Robin shook his head.--"Ay, Robin! Robin! you're right, after all. If it were not for a woman, I'd never set foot on sh.o.r.e again: but I'm proud of my little Barbara; and all the fine things you tell me of her, Robin, make me still prouder;--her mother all over. I often think how happy I shall be to call her daughter, when she won't be ashamed to own me: G.o.d help me!"--and be it noted that Dalton crossed himself as he spoke--"G.o.d help me! I often think that if ever I gain salvation, it will be through the prayers of that girl. Would that she had been brought up in her mother's way!"

"What would old Noll say to that papistical sign, master?" inquired Robin.

"A plague on you and old Noll too! I never get a bit up towards heaven, that something doesn't pull me back again."

"I'll send you up in a moment," said Robin, in a kind voice. "Your daughter, Barbara----"

"Ay, that it is, that it is," muttered the Buccaneer; "my own, own child!--the child of one who, I bless G.o.d, never lived to know that she wedded (for I wedded her in holy church, at Dominica) a wild and wicked rover. Our love was sudden and hot, as the sun under which we lived; and I never left her but once from the time we became one. I had arranged all, given up my ship and cargo,--and it was indeed a cargo of crimes--at least, I thought so then. It was before the civil wars; or I had again returned to England, or traded, no matter how. I flew to her dwelling, with a light heart and a light step. What there? My wife,--she who had hung so fondly round my neck and implored me not to leave her,--was stretched on a low bamboo bed--dead, sir--dead! I might have known it before I entered, had I but remembered that she knew my step on the smooth walk, fell it ever so lightly, and would have met me--but for death! And there too sat a black she-devil, stuffing my infant's mouth with their vile food. I believe the hag thought I was mad; for I caught the child in my arms, held it to my heart while I bent over my wife's body, and kissed her cold, unreturning--for the first time unreturning--lips; then flung myself out of the accursed place,--ran with my burden to the shipowners, who had parted with me most grudgingly,--and was scudding before the wind in less than twelve hours, more at war with my own species than ever, and panting for something to wreak my hatred on. At first I wished the infant dead, for I saw her pining away; but at last, when she came to know me, and lift up her innocent hands to my face--I may confess it here--many and many a night have I sat in my cabin looking on that sleeping child, till my eyes swam in a more bitter brine than was ever brewed in the Atlantic.

Particular circ.u.mstances obliged me to part with her, and I have never regretted her being with poor Lady Cecil--only I should have liked her to pray as her mother did. Not that I suppose it will make any difference at the wind-up,--if," he added, doubtingly, "there be indeed any wind-up. Hugh Dalton will never be really himself till he can look that angel girl straight in the face, and ask her to pray for him, as her mother used." Dalton was too much affected to continue, and both his auditors respected his feelings too much to speak. At length he said, "But this gloom will never do. Come, Robin, give us a song, and let it not be one of your sad ones."

Robin sung,--

"Now, while the night-wind loud and chill Unheeded raves around the door, Let us the wine-cup drain and fill, And welcome social joys once more-- The joys that still remain to cheer The gloomiest month of all the year, By our own fire side.

"What need we care for frost and snow?

Thus meeting--what have we to fear From frost and snow, or winds that blow?

Such guests can find no entrance here.

No coldness of the heart or air-- Our little world of twelve feet square, And our own fire-side.

"I drink this pledge to thee and thine-- I fill this cup to thine and thee-- How long the summer sun might shine, Nor fill our souls with half the glee A merry winter's night can bring, To warm our hearts, while thus we sing By our own fire-side."

The song, however, produced a contrary effect to that the Ranger had intended. It pictured a fancied scene--one to which both Walter and the Buccaneer had long been strangers; and a lengthened and painful pause succeeded to the brief moment of forced merriment. It was broken by the Cavalier, who inquired--

"How long will it be before you return from this new trip? for remember, my good friend, that suspense is a----"

"h.e.l.l!" interrupted Dalton, in his usual intemperate manner: "but I cannot help it. It is not wise to pluck unripe fruit--do you understand me?"

"Perfectly--and I dare say you are right; but tell me, Dalton, how is it that, till lately, you so completely abandoned this island, and kept to the Devon and Cornwall coasts? I should have thought this the most convenient; your storehouse here is so well arranged."

"Ay, ay, sir; but this is over-near London, though it used to be a safe place enough; but now that Sir Michael Livesey--regicide that he is!--abides so continually at Little Shurland, what chance is there for any good to such as I? I tell ye, Cromwell's nose is ever on the scent."

"A great advantage to him, and a disadvantage to his foes," said Robin: "he has only to put the said nose to the touch-hole of the biggest cannon, and off it goes; it never costs the army a farthing for matches when he's with it."

"Pshaw, Robin! but is he indeed so red-nosed? You have often seen him, Captain."