TALES OF THE SEA: 12 Maritime Adventure Novels in One Volume (Illustrated)
surely, surely, through the hard usages of war may justify so dreadful a revenge on an enemy, it was unkind to forget the condition of his own friends!”
“Mr. Barnstable has done neither, Miss Howard,” said Katherine, checking her uneasy footsteps, her light form swelling with pride; “Mr. Barnstable is equally incapable of murdering an enemy or of deserting a friend!”
“But retaliation is neither deemed nor called murder, by men in arms.”
“Think it what you will, call it what you will, Cecilia Howard, I will pledge my life, that Richard Barnstable has to answer for the blood of none but the open enemies of his country.”
“The miserable man may have fallen a sacrifice to the anger of that terrific seaman, who led him hence as a captive!”
“That terrific seaman, Miss Howard, has a heart as tender as your own. He is——”
“Nay, Katherine,” interrupted Cecilia, “you chide me unkindly; let us not add to our unavoidable misery, by such harsh contention.”
“I do not contend with you, Cecilia; I merely defend the absent and the innocent from your unkind suspicions, my cousin.”
“Say, rather, your sister,” returned Miss Howard, their hands involuntarily closing upon each other, “for we are surely sisters! But let us strive to think of something less horrible. Poor, poor Dillon! now that he has met a fate so terrible, I can even fancy him less artful and more upright than we had thought him! You agree with me, Katherine, I see by your countenance, and we will dwell no longer on the subject.—Katherine! my cousin Kate, what see you?”
Miss Plowden, as she relinquished her pressure of the hand of Cecilia, had renewed her walk with a more regulated step; but she was yet making her first turn across the room, when her eyes became keenly set on the opposite window, and her whole frame was held in an attitude of absorbed attention. The rays of the setting sun fell bright upon her dark glances, which seemed fastened on some distant object, and gave an additional glow to the mantling color that was slowly stealing, across her cheeks, to her temples. Such a sudden alteration in the manner and appearance of her companion had not failed to catch the attention of Cecilia, who, in consequence, interrupted herself by the agitated question we have related. Katherine slowly beckoned her companion to her side, and, pointing in the direction of the wood that lay in view, she said:
“See yon tower, in the ruin! Do you observe those small spots of pink and yellow that are fluttering above its walls?”
“I do. They are the lingering remnants of the foliage of some tree; but they want the vivid tints which grace the autumn of our own dear America!”
“One is the work of God, and the other has been produced by the art of man. Cecilia, those are no leaves, but they are my own childish signals, and without doubt Barnstable himself is on that ruined tower. Merry cannot, will not, betray him!”
“My life should be a pledge for the honor of our little cousin,” said Cecilia. “But you have the telescope of my uncle at hand, ready for such an event! one look through it will ascertain the truth—”
Katherine sprang to the spot where the instrument stood, and with eager hands she prepared it for the necessary observation.
“It is he!” she cried, the instant her eye was put to the glass. “I even see his head above the stones. How unthinking to expose himself so unnecessarily!”
“But what says he, Katherine?” exclaimed Cecilia; “you alone can interpret his meaning.”
The little book which contained the explanations of Miss Plowden’s signals was now hastily produced, and its leaves rapidly run over in quest of the necessary number.
“Tis only a question to gain my attention. I must let him know he is observed.”
When Katherine, as much to indulge her secret propensities as with any hope of its usefulness, had devised this plan for communicating with Barnstable, she had, luckily, not forgotten to arrange the necessary means to reply to his interrogatories. A very simple arrangement of some of the ornamental cords of the window-curtains enabled her to effect this purpose; and her nimble fingers soon fastened the pieces of silk to the lines, which were now thrown into the air, when these signals in miniature were instantly displayed in the breeze.
“He sees them!” cried Cecilia, “and is preparing to change his flags.”
“Keep then your eye on him, my cousin, and tell me the colors that he shows, with their order, and I will endeavor to read his meaning.”
“He is as expert as yourself! There are two more of them fluttering above the stones again: the upper is white, and the lower black.”
“White over black,” repeated Katherine, rapidly, to herself, as she turned the leaves of her book.—”’My messenger: has he been seen?‘—To that we must answer the unhappy truth. Here it is—yellow, white, and red—’He is a prisoner.‘ How fortunate that I should have prepared such a question and answer. What says he, Cecilia, to this news?”
“He is busy making his changes, dear. Nay, Katherine, you shake so violently as to move the glass! Now he is done; ‘tis yellow over black, this time.”
”’Griffith, or who?‘ He does not understand us; but I had thought of the poor boy, in making out the numbers—ah! here it is; yellow, green, and red—’My cousin Merry‘—he cannot fail to understand us now.”
“He has already taken in his flags. The news seems to alarm him, for he is less expert than before. He shows them now—they are green, red, and yellow.”
“The question is, ‘Am I safe?‘ ‘Tis that which made him tardy, Miss Howard,” continued Katherine. “Barnstable is ever slow to consult his safety. But how shall I answer him? should we mislead him now, how could we ever forgive ourselves!”
“Of Andrew Merry there is no fear,” returned Cecilia; “and I think if Captain Borroughcliffe had any intimation of the proximity of his enemies, he would not continue at the table.”
“He will stay there while wine will sparkle, and man can swallow,” said Katherine; “but we know, by sad experience, that he is a soldier on an emergency; and yet, I’ll trust to his ignorance this time—here, I have an answer: ‘You are yet safe, but be wary.’”
“He reads your meaning with a quick eye, Katherine; and he is ready with his answer too: he shows green over white, this time. Well! do you not hear me? ‘tis green over white. Why, you are dumb—what says he, dear?”
Still Katherine answered not, and her cousin raised her eyes from the glass, and beheld her companion gazing earnestly at the open page, while the glow which excitement had before brought to her cheek was increased to a still deeper bloom.
“I hope your blushes and his signals are not ominous, Kate,” added Cecilia; “can green imply his jealousy, as white does your purity? what says he, coz?”
“He talks, like yourself, much nonsense,” said Katherine, turning to her flags, with a pettish air, that was singularly contradicted by her gratified countenance; “but the situation of things requires that I should talk to Barnstable more freely.”
“I can retire,” said Cecilia, rising from her chair with a grave manner.
“Nay, Cecilia, I do not deserve these looks—‘tis you who exhibit levity now! But you can perceive for yourself that evening is closing in, and that some other medium for conversation, besides the eyes, may be adopted.—Here is a signal, which will answer: ‘When the abbey clock strikes nine, come with care to the wicket, which opens, at the east side of the paddock, on the road: until then, keep secret.’ I had prepared this very signal, in case an interview should be necessary.”
“Well, he sees it,” returned Cecilia, who had resumed her place by the telescope, “and seems disposed to obey you, for I no longer discern his