Sylvia's Lovers

'It is God's providence,' he murmured. 'It is God's providence.' He crouched down where he had been standing and covered his face

with his hands. He tried to deafen as well as to blind himself, that

he might neither hear nor see anything of the coming event of which

he, an inhabitant of Monkshaven at that day, well understood the

betokening signs.

Kinraid had taken the larger angle of the sands before turning up

towards the bridge. He came along now nearing the rocks. By this

time he was sufficiently buoyant to whistle to himself. It steeled

Philip's heart to what was coming to hear his rival whistling, 'Weel

may the keel row,' so soon after parting with Sylvia.

The instant Kinraid turned the corner of the cliff, the ambush was

upon him. Four man-of-war's men sprang on him and strove to pinion

him.

'In the King's name!' cried they, with rough, triumphant jeers.

Their boat was moored not a dozen yards above; they were sent by the

tender of a frigate lying off Hartlepool for fresh water. The tender

was at anchor just beyond the jutting rocks in face.

They knew that fishermen were in the habit of going to and from

their nets by the side of the creek; but such a prize as this

active, strong, and evidently superior sailor, was what they had not

hoped for, and their endeavours to secure him were in proportion to

the value of the prize.

Although taken by surprise, and attacked by so many, Kinraid did not

lose his wits. He wrenched himself free, crying out loud: 'Avast, I'm a protected whaler. I claim my protection. I've my

papers to show, I'm bonded specksioneer to the Urania whaler,

Donkin captain, North Shields port.' As a protected whaler, the press-gang had, by the 17th section of

Act 26 Geo. III. no legal right to seize him, unless he had failed

to return to his ship by the 10th March following the date of his

bond. But of what use were the papers he hastily dragged out of his

breast; of what use were laws in those days of slow intercourse with

such as were powerful enough to protect, and in the time of popular

panic against a French invasion?

'D--n your protection,' cried the leader of the press-gang; 'come

and serve his Majesty, that's better than catching whales.' 'Is it though?' said the specksioneer, with a motion of his hand,

which the swift-eyed sailor opposed to him saw and interpreted

rightly.

'Thou wilt, wilt thou? Close with him, Jack; and ware the cutlass.' In a minute his cutlass was forced from him, and it became a

hand-to-hand struggle, of which, from the difference in numbers, it

was not difficult to foretell the result. Yet Kinraid made desperate

efforts to free himself; he wasted no breath in words, but fought,

as the men said, 'like a very devil.' Hepburn heard loud pants of breath, great thuds, the dull struggle

of limbs on the sand, the growling curses of those who thought to

have managed their affair more easily; the sudden cry of some one

wounded, not Kinraid he knew, Kinraid would have borne any pain in

silence at such a moment; another wrestling, swearing, infuriated

strife, and then a strange silence. Hepburn sickened at the heart;

was then his rival dead? had he left this bright world? lost his

life--his love? For an instant Hepburn felt guilty of his death; he

said to himself he had never wished him dead, and yet in the

struggle he had kept aloof, and now it might be too late for ever.

Philip could not bear the suspense; he looked stealthily round the

corner of the rock behind which he had been hidden, and saw that

they had overpowered Kinraid, and, too exhausted to speak, were

binding him hand and foot to carry him to their boat.