Roland Cashel, Volume I (of II)

“She belongs to that rich young fellow, Roland Cashel,” said one of these, “who, by the way, is getting through his fortune tolerably fast. The story goes, that he has spent two hundred thousand already, and is borrowing at immense interest.”

“Was n’t he a smuggler, or a privateer’s-man, or something of the kind?”

“No; he made all the money in the slave trade.”

“I always heard that he succeeded to a landed estate,” softly insinuated a modest-looking old gentleman.

“Not at all, sir. Such, I am aware, was the common belief; the fact, however, is, that he had invested large sums in land, and was then able to escape the scrutiny many would have instituted regarding the origin of his wealth.”

“Who is it he is always riding with about town – a handsome girl, on a brown horse?”

“On a gray, you mean.”

“No, a brown, with a bang tail.”

“No, no, it’s a gray. She’s a daughter of Tom Kennyfeck, the attorney.”

“The gentleman is right,” interposed a third. “I ‘ve seen him very often with a lady mounted on a brown thorough-bred.”

“Oh! that’s Lady Kilgoff, the handsomest woman in Ireland.”

“She was much better-looking two years ago,” simpered out an ensign, affectedly. “I used to dance with her and her sister at the race balls of Ashby.”

The group immediately fell back, in tacit acknowledgment of the claim of one so aristocratically associated.

“Didn’t you know her, Hipsley?” lisped out the ensign to a brother officer, who was admiring a very green baby on the arm of a very blooming nursery-maid. “You knew the Craycrofts, didn’t you?”

“Lady Kilgoff’s maiden name, sir, was Gardiner,” said the timid old gentleman who spoke before.

The ensign stuck his glass in one eye, and gazed at him for a second or two, with consummate effrontery, and then, in a voice intended for the most cutting drollery, said, —

“Are, you certain it was n’t ‘Snooks’?” – a rejoinder so infinitely amusing that the bystanders laughed immoderately, and the bashful man retired, overwhelmed in confusion.

“They ‘re off for a good long cruise,” said one, looking through his pocket telescope at the yacht, which now was steering to the southward, with a fresher breeze.

“I suspect so. They took on board five or six hampers from the hotel, just before they sailed.”

A very warm controversy now arose as to where the yacht was bound for, and who were the parties who went on board of her in the harbor; points which, in the absence of all real knowledge, admitted of a most animated debate. Meanwhile, an old weather-beaten sailor, in a pilot coat, continued to gaze alternately from the sky to the sea, and back again, and at last murmured to himself, —

“They ‘ll catch it before midnight, if they don’t haul their wind, and get into shelter.”

Some drifting clouds, dropping slight rain as they passed, soon after cleared the pier of its loiterers, and night fell, dark and starless, while the wind freshened, and the sea fretted and chafed upon the rocks, and even sent its spray high against the strong lighthouse.

Let us now quit the shore, and bear company with the party on board, who, having dined sumptuously, sat sipping their coffee on deck, while the swift craft skimmed the calm waters of the bay, and unfolded in her course the beautiful panorama of the shore – the bold steep bluff of Brayhead, the curved strand of Killiney, the two “Sugar Loaves” rising from the bosom of dark woods, and, in the distance, the higher chain of the Wicklow mountains, while on the opposite side Howth seemed like a blue island studding the clear surface of the bay. Lord Kilgoff and Mr. Sickleton paid but passing attention to the bright picture around. A learned discussion on naval matters, wherein my Lord took the opportunity of storing his mind with a goodly stock of technicals, to be used at some future occasion, occupied them altogether, leaving her Ladyship and Roland Cashel to the undisturbed enjoyment of the scene and its associations.

They paid the highest tribute the picturesque can exact – they sat in silence watching the changing tints, which from red faded to violet, then gray, and at last grew dark with closing night, while the wind freshening sent the sea rushing swiftly past, and made their light craft heave and pitch heavily.

“We are returning to Kingstown, I trust?” said my Lord to Sickleton, who had left him for a moment, to give orders about shortening sail. “It appears to me like a threatening night.”

“It looks dirty, my Lord,” said Sickleton, dryly, as he walked aft with the pilot, and conferred with him in a low tone.

“Are we making for Kingstown, Mr. Cashel?” said my Lord, in a voice he was not able to divest of anxiety.

“I believe not,” said Cashel, rising, and approaching the compass. “No, we are lying down channel straight as we can go.”

“Ay, and very well for us that we can do it,” growled out the pilot. “If we make the Hook Light before we tack, I shall say we ‘re lucky.”

“Does he mean there is any danger, Mr. Cashel?” said Lady Kilgoff, but in a voice devoid of tremor.

“None whatever; but I am sadly distressed at having carried you out so far, since I find that in the present state of the tide, and with the wind still driving more to the north, we cannot bear up for Kingstown, but must run along the shore.”

“Think nothing of that,” said she, gayly; “real peril I have no fancy for – a mere inconvenience is of no moment whatever; but” – here she dropped her voice very low – “say something to my Lord – give him some encouragement.”

“It blows fresh, my Lord, and if it were not for the trespass on your comfort, I should almost rejoice at the occasion of showing you my yacht’s qualities as a sailing-boat.”

“I should prefer taking your word for them, sir,” said Lord Kilgoff, tartly; “a pleasure-trip is one thing, a night in a small vessel exposed to a heavy gale is another.”

“You ‘re right, my Lord,” said the pilot, who heard but a part of the observation; “it will be a gale before morning.”

“Luff! luff, there!” shouted Sickleton; and at the same instant a heavy sea thundered against the bow and broke over the fore part of the vessel with a crashing sound.

“I think when we see the lighthouse of Kingstown so near us,” said Lord Kilgoff, “there ought to be no great difficulty in returning.”

“That’s not the harbor-light you see yonder – that’s the Kish, my Lord,” said the pilot “Keep her up, my man, keep her up, the wind is freshening.”

“Will you indeed forgive me for this disastrous turn of our cruise?” said Cashel, as he fastened his boat-cloak around Lady Kilgoff’s throat, after several vain efforts to induce her to go below.

“If you only prevent my Lord from scolding, I shall enjoy it immensely,” said she, in a half whisper.

“I trust, Lady Kilgoff,” said his Lordship, approaching, and steadying himself by the bulwarks, “that this night’a experience will induce you to distrust your own judgment when in opposition to mine. I foresaw the whole of it. It is now blowing a fierce gale – ”

“Not a bit of it, my Lord,” interposed the pilot, bluntly; “but it will blow great guns ‘fore daybreak, or I ‘m mistaken.”

“And where shall we be then?” asked my Lord, querulously.

“Rayther hard to tell,” said the pilot, laughing. “If she be as good a sea-boat as they say, and that we don’t carry away any of our spars, we may run for Cove. I take it – ”

“For Cove! Gracious mercy! and if she be not as good a vessel as it is said she is, sir, what then, pray?”

The pilot made no reply, but gave orders to set the jib, as she was laboring too much by the head.

The wind increased, and with it the sea, which, dividing at the bow, fell in great cataracts over the vessel, sweeping along the entire deck at every plunge she gave.

“I wish she were a little deeper in the water,” whispered Sickleton to Cashel. “We have n’t within fifteen tons of our ballast on board. But she ‘s a sweet craft, ain’t she? Keep her, there – steady, man.”

“We could n’t stand round in stays, and bear up for the harbor?” asked Cashel, on whom Lord Kilgoff’s face of misery had made a strong impression.

“Impossible! At least the pilot, who knows this coast well, says there is a shore current here runs eight knots.”