The Buccaneer - A Tale

Weep no more, nor sigh nor groan,

Sorrow calls no time that's gone.

Violets pluck'd, the sweetest rain

Makes not fresh nor grow again.

Trim thy locks, look cheerfully;

Fate's hidden ends eyes cannot see.

Joys, as winged dreams, fly fast:

Why should sadness longer last?

Grief is but a wound to wo:

Gentlest fair! mourn, mourn no mo.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER

It was with feelings of considerable anxiety that the Protector waited

the return of Colonel Jones from the second task assigned him in the

Isle of Shepey.

The routing out of a band of lawless smugglers, although commanded by so

daring a skipper as Hugh Dalton, was to him a matter of little

consideration, compared to the restoration of Zillah Ben Israel, and the

positive saving of Constantia Cecil from worse than death: these two

motives weighed deeply upon Cromwell's mind, and he would have made any

sacrifice to have been assured that his purpose, with regard to both,

might be effected before the morning's dawn. When the explosion of the

Fire-fly disturbed his solitude in the purple chamber at Cecil Place, he

directed immediate inquiry to be instituted as to its origin, and

quickly ascertained that it was caused by the destruction of some ship

at sea; his suspicions were at once directed to the vessel of the

Buccaneer.

There was no time to lose; Colonel Jones, whose courage and coolness

were proverbial amongst soldiers more celebrated for these qualities

than even British soldiers have ever been before or since, was instantly

dispatched to the Gull's Nest. At first the command of the Protector was

to "mount silently;" but his pledge to Robin Hays was remembered, and,

at the very moment when the glare of the burning ship was illumining the

island, he could not bring himself to determine that the little deformed

being, with whom he had held commune, had betrayed the confidence

reposed in him.

"Let him know who are coming and prepare for it," thought Cromwell,

whose caution was really subservient to his enthusiasm, powerful as was

at all times this latter quality; and then he gave, in a low, but

earnest and energetic tone, the order, "Sound a brief 'to horse!' trust

in the Lord, and see that your swords be loose in their scabbards."

The troop, on its return, was met by Cromwell himself at the gate to

which we have so frequently alluded. His anxiety had not been often

greater than on that occasion, and it was manifested by an impatience of

manner that almost terrified the attendants who waited in his presence.

He was accompanied by only two officers, and his first question was if

"Colonel Jones had secured Dalton and the Jewess?" A reply in the

affirmative evidently afforded him great relief and satisfaction; but

the feeling was quickly succeeded by one of extreme anger when informed

of the total destruction of the Fire-fly, which he had desired to

preserve for his own special purpose. Yet, until the prisoners had been

conducted into Cecil Place by the private entrance, as he had previously

arranged, his displeasure only found vent in occasional exclamations.

The house was alive with alarm and curiosity, but its inmates received

little information to quiet or to satisfy their eager thirst for

intelligence. As the soldiers passed the gates, lights floated through

the dwelling, and the windows were crowded with inquisitive

countenances; great, therefore, was the disappointment when they

observed the party separate, and one portion of it take a private path,

leading to the Protector's apartments, while the other proceeded round

an angle of the building to the stables. Many of the domestics met them

at the stable gates, but could learn nothing from those trusty soldiers,

who perfectly understood, and invariably acted upon, their master's

favourite motto, "safety in silence;"--still they could not rest, no one

went to bed, for all were in expectation of--they knew not what.