As We Sweep Through The Deep

by Oliver Optic

  CHAPTER VI.

  A BOLT FROM THE BLUE.

  "O Life! how pleasant in thy morning, Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning." BURNS.

  General Grant Mackenzie was a somewhat impulsive man. It is the natureof the Celt to be impulsive. His nervous system is far more finelystrung than that of the plethoric or adipose Saxon, and it vibrates tothe slightest breath of emotion. Mind, I talk of the ideal Celt--be heIrish or Scotch--and General Grant Mackenzie was an ideal Celt. Andsitting here with my good guitar on my knee, I cannot help comparing anature like his to just such a beautiful stringed instrument as this.What a world of fine feeling lies herein; what a wealth of poetry, whatsadness, what tenderness--ay, and what passion as well! Behold, on thismusic-stand lies a big old book--a book with a story to it, for itbelonged to my unfortunate ancestor Symon Fraser of Lovat, who wasbeheaded on Tower Hill. It is Highland music all, and sweet to me areits mournful laments as breathed by my sad guitar; but--I turn aleaf--and here is a battle-piece. Ha! the instrument hath lost itssadness, or only here and there come wailing notes like moans of thewounded amidst the hurry, the scurry, the dashing, and the clashing ofthis terrible tulzie. Can't you see the claymores glitter? Can't you seethe tartans wave, and nodding plumes among the rolling smoke? Oh, I can.Seems as if the guitar would burst its very strings; but, the battle isover--cry of vanquished, shout of victor, all are hushed. And now comesthe ghostly music of the coronach: they are burying the dead. And theinstrument appears to sob, to weep, till the sweet low song of grief incadence dies.

  A nature like that of Grant Mackenzie, then, or of his son--for bothseemed cast in the same mould--needs a well-trained, well-balanced mindto guide and restrain it; for there are few occasions indeed in thisworld when one dares lay bare his soul and feelings even to his bestfriends.

  The day after M'Hearty's visit to Jack, the young post-captain, with hisfriend Tom Fairlie, was just finishing breakfast, when in dashed thegeneral. Next minute his son was pressed against his breast just as ifhe had been a child.

  Jack had spilt his tea and knocked over a chair in his hurry to get tohis father; but what did that matter? So there they stood looking ateach other for a moment, the tears in both their eyes.

  Maybe the old general was a trifle ashamed of such weakness, for nextmoment he burst into a merry laugh.

  "Why, Jack, my brave boy," he cried, "there are only two arms betweenthe pair of us. But yours will get well; mine, alas, is in the grave!"

  Flora came up now, and Jack seemed delighted to see her.

  "And here," he said, "here, Flora, is the best friend I have in theworld--Tom Fairlie.--Nay, never blush, Tom, my brother.--He it was,Flora, who helped to take me below after I got hit; and when even thesurgeon--grand old fellow M'Hearty! father, you shall know him--gave meup, Tom stuck to me, and he has been nursing me ever since as if I werea child. Ah, Flora, there is no friendship on earth so true, and nolove either, as that man bears for man."

  Jack looked at his sister as he spoke, and that glance told her he knewall.

  "Father, I had almost forgotten to tell you of my espousal."

  "Espousal, Jack! You astonish me; it can't be true!"

  "Oh, but it is."

  He picked his sword off the couch as he spoke and held it out to hisfather.

  "Let me present my bride," he said, laughing.

  The general himself could laugh now.

  "So pleased, so pleased! But, 'pon honour, you young rascal, you prettynearly took your old father's breath away. Married! bless my soul, talkabout that thirty years hence; and blame me, Jack, but that itself mightbe too soon.

  "So you knocked the French about a bit? Well done, Jack; and well done,Lieutenant Fairlie."

  "Oh," said the young sailor, laughing, "they always call me Tom."

  "Well, Tom," said the general, holding out his hand, "you and my bravelad fought nobly; but bless my heart, he wouldn't be a true Mackenzie ifhe couldn't fight. So you gave it to the Froggies hot, eh? I knew youwould. Second only to the British army is the British navy, lads."

  "And second only to the British navy, father, is the British army."

  "Bravo! _esprit de corps_. Well, I like it. But I've news for you, Jack.Why, your old father, you young dog you, is going to take command again.Ha, ha! sword arm all right, and head-piece in glorious form."

  "O father, I'm so delighted!"

  "Yes, boy, and there is one thing I look forward to--ay, and prayfor--and that is for you and me, Jack, to be in the same field ofbattle, and drubbing the French as only British sailors and soldierscan."

  "Father, you've made me happy.--Why, Tom, this all but reconciles me tothe loss of the love--"

  Jack stopped, looking a little confused.

  "Love--love? Why, Jack, my lad, what is this? Love of whom, boy?"

  "Oh, only a pet spaniel, father. No, not dead. Lost though; enticedaway--with a bone, I suppose."

  "Just the way with spaniels, Jack. Glad it's no worse. But 'pon honour,Jack, though you're not old enough to know it, womankind are preciouslittle better. I _know_ 'em well, Jack; I know 'em. A bone will enticethem too, particularly a bone with a bit of meat on it."

  * * * * *

  Jack Mackenzie was not a young man who cared for much nursing. Had Gertybeen his nurse it would doubtless have been all so different. However,it was very pleasant for Jack to while away the next month or two downat Grantley Hall, and to be treated like an interesting invalid and madea hero of by old maids and young ones too. The curate of the parish hadnot a chance now.

  Then the country was so lovely all around the Hall. Though lacking thegrandeur and romance of our Scottish Highlands, the land of the broads,with its wealth of wild flowers, its dreamy, quiet lakes, its wavingreeds, its moors, and its birds, throws a glamour over one inspring-time that no true lover of nature can resist.

  Jack's arm was well in a month, and he was waiting for service. He didnot mind waiting even a little longer, and most assuredly Tom Fairliedid not, nor M'Hearty either, who was also a guest at the Hall. Richardsalso had come down to spend a week or two. He and M'Hearty becameinseparables.

  A great old tub of a boat belonged to Mackenzie, and this lay on anadjoining broad or lake. Tom and Jack fitted it out as a kind ofgondola, and many a pleasant hour did the young folks spend together onthe water, sometimes not returning till stars were reflected from thedark bosom of the lake or the moonbeams seemed to change it into moltengold.

  A pleasant time indeed--a time that flew all too quickly for poor TomFairlie.

  One evening, when hanging up his hat in the hall, Jack's father took himby the hand and led him silently into the library.

  "Father, father," cried Jack, "what has happened?"

  "A bolt from the blue, my boy; a bolt from the blue."