The Buccaneer - A Tale

The bleak and unclothed landscape, from which the mist was slowly

rolling; the few giant trees, that dwelling by the sea-side, and grown

wise by experience, ventured not to put forth their leaves till the sun

had chased the north wind to his caves; but, above all, the booming of

the untranquillised ocean, might have chilled a heart within the warmest

bosom; "Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood,

With dauntless words and high," and looked as if he deemed the rolling clouds his listeners. It was by

no means unusual for the preachers in those days to exercise their

voices over the hills and heaths of their native land: valuing, as they

did, power and strength far more than melody and grace, they endeavoured

to acquire them by every possible means--nor were they without hope

that, (to use their own language,) "the Almighty might bless the seed

thus sown, seeing that it was hard to know who might not be within

hearing of the precious word."

Burrell soon gained the sea-shore, though he was still a considerable

distance from Gull's Nest Crag. On arriving at a point that commanded an

unbroken prospect of the far-spread sea, he shaded his eyes with his

hand, and looked long and earnestly along the waste of waters.

Apparently the scrutiny was unsuccessful, for he drew a telescope from

beneath his cloak and gazed through it for some minutes, directing it

towards several points. At length, with an impatience of manner in

which, when with his inferiors or alone, he frequently indulged, he

descended the cliff and pursued his way along the beach. As he drew near

the little public-house, his ears were greeted by the sound of one of

Waller's most popular songs, warbled in a voice so sweet, so pipe-like,

that he paused, and looked round to ascertain from whence it proceeded.

It ceased. Not even his keen eye could rest on aught resembling human

form. He hallooed, but received no answer: yet had he not continued

three steps on his way when the song was renewed, as he thought,

directly over his head; notwithstanding the roaring of the waves, he

even heard the words distinctly-"Small is the worth

Of beauty from the light retired."

Again he shouted, and a loud and elfin laugh, that danced with the

echoes from crag to crag and billow to billow, was sent forth in reply.

"Mermaid--Merman--or Demon! where be ye!" cried Burrell, loudly.

"Even here, master mine," answered Robin Hays, shaking his large head,

over a midway and partly detached portion of the cliff.