Foxholme Hall, and Other Tales
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humane Mouravieff. Terms most honourable to the bravegarrison were speedily arranged; private property was to be respected;the troops were to march out with colours and music, and surrenderthemselves prisoners; "and write," said the Russian General to hissecretary, "that in admiration of the noble and devoted couragedisplayed by the army of Kars, the officers shall be allowed to retaintheir swords, as a mark of honour and respect."
Thus was Kars defended chiefly by the wisdom, courage, and perseveranceof a few Englishmen, gallantly supported by the Turkish troops; and thusit fell, not before the arms of Russia, but in consequence of themismanagement, roguery, and pusillanimity of Turkish generals andofficials. It would be difficult to point out to young soldiers anexample more worthy of imitation than that set by the gallant officerswho have been mentioned in these pages.
Story 13--CHAPTER ONE.
STORY THIRTEEN--THE DOOMED SHIP.
"You see me now an old and careworn man, with my few scanty locks whiteas the driven snow; my eyes dim, my cheeks hollow, my shrunk andtottering limbs scarce able to support my bent and emaciated body; myblood languid, and flowing slowly round my heart; my voice weak andtremulous as a child's; all my faculties deranged but memory, and thatalone survives to tell me who I am. Memory, mysterious, inscrutablepower,--gladly would I have escaped its painful influence! Alas! itcannot be. Thought alone, while every other faculty has departed, willpursue me to the grave.
"I was not always thus, young man. Ah! once my blood coursed freelythrough my veins as yours, my limbs were stout and strongly knit, mymuscles were firmly strung, my figure was tall and graceful, and with myarm few dared to compete. No one ever cared a second time to tempt myanger; my eye was bright and piercing as an eagle's, and my voice wasclear and powerful, so that it might be heard amid the raging of thefiercest storm. My heart never beat with fear; aloft, no one was moreactive, or would so readily spring to the weather earing, when, in thestrongest tempest, the last reef was to be taken in the topsails. Ah!young man, you look incredulous. I have stood securely on the maintruck when landsmen could scarcely keep their feet on deck. I have hungby one hand suspended to a single rope, tossing to and fro in mid air.I have swum for miles on the foaming bosom of the ocean. I havecontended with the wild beast of the desert. I have stood amid showersof bell and grape when my shipmates have been falling thickly around. Ihave with a few daring comrades fought hand to hand against overpoweringnumbers on an enemy's deck. I have faced death in a hundred shapes, andI never trembled; yet now I bend even before the summer's breeze.Worthless and miserable as I am, I have loved, truly and devotedly, ay,and have been loved too in return. The eye of beauty has sparkled, herlip has smiled sweetly on me, her heart has beat with tender emotions;when I drew near, those lips have uttered words of tenderest endearmentfor my ear alone. I have been young, strong, handsome, and bold;--I amnow old and broken, loathsome and nerveless. Learn a moral, young man.To this all must come whose span of life is lengthened out like mine;then do the work to which you have been called while you have strength.Remember that this life, whether passed in sunshine and in calm, or amidcloud and storm, is like a voyage, speedily over, and that while itlasts every man on board is bound to do his duty, nor like a cowardskulk idly below. Vain and bitter are the regrets of age, and if allmen did but feel the importance of acting their parts faithfully towardstheir Maker and their fellow-men, what an amount of misery and anguishwould be saved them in their latter days! how different would he theworld they are sent to inhabit!
"But I asked you to sit down on this stone by my side, while we watchthe shipping in the harbour below, and the deep blue sea sparkling inthe rays of the setting sun, to listen to a tale of my younger days, andinstead of that, I have been moralising, prating, you will say perhaps,of things which do not interest you. Well, well, follow my counsel; itis all I ask; and so to my tale.
"It is now more than half a century ago that I got the berth of secondmate on board a fine ship belonging to the port of Liverpool. Liverpoolwas a very different town in those days from what it is now. There wereno fine docks and spacious quays, no broad streets and magnificentbuildings, but yet it was a place of much bustle and trade; and trade isthe true mother of all the improvements. Our ship was called the_Chameleon_. She was bran new, and had never yet made a voyage; shemeasured four hundred and fifty tons burthen, was ship-rigged, and waswell found and fitted in every respect. Her master was as thorough asailor as ever stepped, and, take them all in all, I suppose a stoutership, a better crew, or a more able master, never sailed from the portof Liverpool. But I have now more particularly to speak of the master.His name was Derick--Captain Ashby Derick. He was a young man, aboutseven or eight-and-twenty, I suppose, and was very well connected andeducated. He was very good-looking--the women called him remarkablyhandsome--he was tall, with a firm, well-made figure and broad chest;his complexion was naturally fair, though now bronzed by the sun, withan abundance of light curly hair, and full whiskers; his eyes were largeand grey; his lips firm, and his nose fine, though somewhat hooked,which prevented his face from having any approach to effeminacy. He hadfrom boyhood been rather wild; indeed, his principles were none of thebest, and it was for that reason that his father, who was a very strictman, had sent him to sea, that he might not set a bad example to hisbrothers. The world looked on him as a rollicking, careless blade, withmore animal spirits than wisdom to guide him; but his employers knew himto be a first-rate seaman, and one liked by his crew, and that was allthey had to inquire about. Now for my part, I believe that had he beenwell guided at first, and properly instructed in his duty to God andman, he would not have turned out a bad man; but he had not his fairplay; he was cast like a waif on the waters, without rudder or compass,to find his way as he best could over the troubled sea of life, and howcould those who sent him expect him to escape shipwreck? His fate hasbeen the fate of many. He grew up with numerous fine manly qualities.He was brave and bold as man can be; he was generous to his friends,kind-hearted to any in distress, and full of life and animation, but histemper was hot and hasty. He had no religion, though he did not scoffat it in others; but he did not know what it meant; and he had nomorality; indeed, no one could trust to his principles. With women hehad very winning ways, and was a great favourite with them.
"After his return from his last voyage he went to stay with some friendsliving in Lancashire, not many miles from Liverpool. At the distance ofa mile or two from the house where he was staying, there lived on theborders of a wild heath or common, in an almost ruined cottage, an oldwoman. The old woman's name was Kirby--Mother Kirby she was called--andshe was reported to be a witch by the common people, who told all sortsof stories about her. It is certain that she was of a sour bad temper,that she was very old and very ugly, and could use her tongue mostfluently. But it is not about her I am going to speak at present. Shehad a granddaughter who lived in the hut with her, but was as unlike herin every respect as light from darkness. Amy Kirby was one of the mostbeautiful girls you ever saw--she was slight and graceful, with awell-rounded form, and tall rather than short; her hair was black asjet; her eyes large, dark, and lustrous; and her cheeks bore all thebloom of health and youth; her complexion was clear, but it just showedthat there was a slight touch of gipsy blood in her veins; her step, asshe walked along, was as elastic as a young fawn's; and her voice waslike the skylark's as it mounts into the blue sky at early dawn.
"It was surprising to see how the old woman loved a being so unlikeherself, how carefully she tended her, how well she had brought her up.She had taught her many things which girls in her rank of life neverlearn; she even got all sorts of books for her to read. Amy was alwaysneatly dressed, and while the rest of the cottage was almost in ruins,her room was as good as any in a well-to-do house. No one knew how theold woman got the money for these purposes, but whenever any was wantedfor Amy it was always forthcoming. One thing, alas! she had not taughther--that was religion; and neither the old woman nor her grandchild waseve
r seen to enter a church.
"Amy was about seventeen when Ashby Derick first saw her. He met her onthe common near her grandmother's cottage, and as he was a strangerthere he stopped to ask his way, and from one question another wasasked, and a few words led to many. His heart in a moment was struck byher beauty, and he felt that he had never seen any one he admired somuch. She, too, was pleased with his look and fine manly bearing, butshe would not tell him who she was, nor where she came from. Shelaughingly said that she was the spirit of the heath, that she dwelt inthe air, and that her carriage was the storm, and that whenever he wouldseek her he must come there to find her. This excited his curiosity,and if she had told him that she lived in the ruined cottage hard by,from her dress and language he would not have believed her. Every dayhe visited the heath, and each time he found her there on the same spot,and hour after