The Buccaneer - A Tale

"Mother," said the Ranger, as he held the cup which her skinny fingers

were extended to grasp, while her parched lips clanked against each

other impatient of moisture--"Mother, take but little for you have need

of prayer; that will stifle the cry far better than this."

"And I will pray," returned the woman, "when my tale is finished. There

was but that one loud, loud scream, and a heavy splash in the ocean, and

with it the darkness again passed: but, Robin Hays, Robin Hays, the men

had passed too, and one of them returned no more! And why did he not? He

had broad and fair lands, such as make people cling to their own

country, but he came not back. Soon after, I heard the noise of oars,

and--mind your mother now, Robin,--another man came to the cliff--to the

brow of the same cliff--I saw him look down, and along the waves, and,

all of a sudden, a pistol flash from the boat sprang through the

darkness, and he who came last stood while you could count ten, and

passed away. But mind again, Robin, he came with a weak step, and he

went as a strong man."

Robin shuddered; his mother after a brief pause continued.

"Now, who think you, Robin--my child, Robin, who think you was the

murdered man--and who think you was he who came last, and saw the

murderers departing in peace--who? I will tell it, before my breath is

for ever stopped: the one was Robert Cecil, and the other his father's

son, the first-born of his own mother!"

"Oh God!" exclaimed Robin, adding in a muttering tone, "I see through it

all, the hold that Dalton has over the wretched, wicked man! But could

Dalton do this?"

"Did you say any thing of Dalton?" inquired Mother Hays, whose quickness

of hearing appeared increased; "it was his ship that was off the coast,

though I could not swear he was himself there. Such things, I have

heard, were often done in those wild times, and it made a noise then,

and Sir Robert seemed like one mad about his brother; though people did

whisper, for they were set against one another to the knowledge of all,

and of different parties. And in time the lands all fell to him; and the

Parliament since, I heard, made out, that Sir Herbert, being a friend to

the king, even if he were alive, shouldn't have his own, which was all

made over to the present man. But, as sure as there is a God, so sure He

is just! Is it not plain? Of all the fine boys his lady bore him, not

one is left! And, as to the daughter, look, if she knew as much of Sir

Willmott Burrell as I do, she'd make her night-posset with the mermaids

before she'd wed him. Well, Robin, Sir Herbert had once a son--an only

son, and, as his lady died in childbed, Sir Robert's wife had taken

great delight in the boy, and brought him up with her own children; and

a pretty boy it was, so fond of the sea! He would sit for an hour

together on my knee, and always called me nurse, and used to play with

you as if you were his equal, and call Mistress Cecil, that now is, his

wife! Sweet lamb that he was! Robin, Robin, he went too; how, I never

knew, but I guess: the murderer of the father thought he should be more

safe if the boy was away, and he pretended grief, and his poor lady felt

it. Now it is of that boy I would have spoken to Mistress Cecil, for my

heart misgives me--"