THE FLYING DUTCHMAN. 155 CHAPTER XXXIX. By the deep star! 'tis sweet to wander o'er And sighs the night breeze sweeping o'er the sea, Their fragrance there the flow'ring bean-fields give; And honeysuckles blossom o'er the land; The blushing clover ffings its sweetness round, And spreads its purple mantle on the ground; While fair Clematis wreathes her hair with flow'rs, LIGHT and joyous as the first breath of a July morning were the hearts of the officers and crew on board H. M. ship Trojan, as that seventy-four cast anchor in Plymouth Sound. In the height of a brilliant summer she had arrived in the Channel, and a few hours after sunset her men beheld the marked and beautiful shores of Devon glowing in the bright moonlight, and surrounding her nearly on all sides. At the time of which we write, the bay was yet unprotected by that monument to our national skill and perseverance, the Breakwater, and the heavy swell that at times rushed through the Sound bore striking, and often too fatal evidence, that the force of the Atlantic could penetrate even thus far up the English Channel. Anchored, however, under Staddon Heights, which in some measure sheltered the ship from the south-east breeze, the yards were no sooner squared, the salute fired, and the side piped to the commodore, who immediately departed for the shore in his gig, than the officers began to make up parties for the same indulgence, while the middies looked on with wistful but not envious eyes. They knew that their turn must soon arrive, and overjoyed at its proximity, and hoping that the ship might not be ordered on to Portsmouth, the departure of their more privileged superiors now only the more vividly drew to their view the joys in store for themselves upon the morrow; while frolic and amusements of every kind-not a little rough in their way it is true-filled up their time, and bespoke the exuberance of their delight. Nor were the seamen less elated at once more viewing the well-remembered pleasures of Plymouth Dock. The rude delights of paying off, and the outrageous joys of squandering in three days the large sums of money so laboriously earned by three years' danger and toil-the marrying of new wives, or the meeting with old ones, whichever happened to come first, all gradually approached, and the chance of "a spell ashore" acted indeed like a spell on them, as the ship's fiddler, under special permission, excited their active limbs to redoubled efforts, by the appropriate air of "When I do return again, how happy shall I be !" A joy, the more intense from its long suppression, seemed to irradiate the hearts of all on board. But to this there were two sad and marked exceptions ;-the prisoner, who remained heavily ironed, and severed from all friendly communication on the maindeck, and the still beautiful but anguish-stricken wife and mother, who, not far distant, could almost hear his sighs, and who clasped to her wasted bosom the infant that a few days' might render an orphan. Much as she had entreated to be allowed an interview with her husband during the voyage home, this poor consolation was barbarously denied her. Once or twice at first, it is true, she was permitted, beyond speaking distance, to behold his degradation, in hopes that this might shame her into renouncing him. But the contrary effect was produced; to the great surprise of the commodore, they beheld a result the very opposite to that which they anticipated; and then even that questionable indulgence ceased; while, though her suspense might be the greater, she was at any rate spared the pang of witnessing a persecution that no influence of hers could mitigate. Day by day, and subsequently at longer intervals, the commodore insisted on intruding his odious visits upon Angela, to ascertain her sentiments-to entrap her, if possible, into some crimination of her husband's conduct, and, failing this, to load her with obloquy and reproach, and ridicule the idea of her marriage. Unfitted by nature and disposition to bear this cruel persecution, she evaded as much as possible the visits of this unnatural relation, and gradually sank under her sufferings, to a degree that threatened a speedy release by death, if no more kindly termination to her sorrows should arrive. But though the frame gave way, the mind remained true as ever to its duties. Not the slightest hint of doubting her husband's truth and honour ever passed her lips; though, when left wholly to herself, and in the deep watches of the night, when sorrow rendered sleep impossible, she dwelt anxiously, and with many tears, upon the charge brought forward against him. Could it be possible that the head which had planned and witnessed the murder of the father could have slept so tranquilly upon the bosom of the daughter?-that hands, fresh from the deadly and assassin-like struggle with the parent, should take in marriage those of the child?-that the mild, the gentle, the high-spirited Ramsay, should on any provocation have become the midnight murderer?Most unnatural-impossible! Still the horrid thought would assail, would recur to her, adding, if that were possible, to the woes that already afflicted her. As the time approached that was to render certain the fate in store for her, the excitement deepened into that state of dread which almost annihilates the exercise of reason. With every entreaty she could use, she prayed to be allowed one brief interview with her husband, to arrange with him the steps necessary for his defence, and the writing to his friends. This was denied. The court-martial was fixed within a few days after the ship's arrival, and scarcely time was left for application to his friends in Scotland, for that aid and countenance he so much required. Great as had been the slaughter among the crew of the FLYING DUTCHMAN, it had, unfortunately for Ramsay, fallen short of one of the greatest villains amongst the whole of the pirates. The name of this wretch was Pierson, and he, in common with every one on board, had no sooner heard the crime with which his late superior was charged, than, on condition of receiving pardon, he offered to turn king's evidence, and bring forward such testimony as must convict the prisoner. The joy of the commodore on hearing this intelligence exceeded all bounds of decency. The man was immediately brought before himself and the first lieutenant, and his conditions being granted-for he was too cunning to utter a word till that important point was effected in his favour-his deposition was carefully taken down by the clerk, for fear of any accident happening to him on the way home, and himself placed under the charge of a sentry on the same deck with Ramsay. Being well treated, he was thus guarded from the otherwise dangerous scorn and wrath of the seamen, who, however they might view the act with which Ramsay was charged, still clearly considered the baseness of this miscreant as far exceeding it. What the evidence was that this person had tendered, and the commodore had so readily accepted, did not transpire; but thus much the clerk who took it down was permitted to assert, that not a doubt now remained, either as to Ramsay's guilt or punishment. Still the prisoner, as firmly as ever, maintained his entire innocence-still he racked his mind in vain to discover what could be the testimony which Pierson, above all others, could bring forward against him; and, though with dark forebodings as to the result of the. trial, he looked forward with hope to the arrival of those friends for whom he had written; and, as in every other calamity which had of late fallen so rapidly and severely upon him, he presented an unsinking heart and unbroken courage to meet all. CHAPTER XL. There's not a day whose opening beauty wakes THE morning of the trial had arrived, and calm beneath the fearful scrutiny and colder looks of all around, Ramsay, under guard of the provost-marshall, entered the crowded court. Who has ever passed the threshold of a criminal court, either as prosecutor or prisoner, witness or spectator-İ might almost add as judge or counsel—without feeling his heart sink within him? I know not whether this sickly sensation of dread is most powerfully produced by the forms of civil or martial law-whether the black robes or the glittering uniforms, the solemn jury, or the drawn sword of the judge advocate, produce the deepest emotions. But I incline to think the former. The sombre hué, the staid demeanour, the greater absence of parade, and that natural tendency in the imagination to attribute the greater power where the less is shown, all combine to strike the mind with a degree of awe, which is not equalled by the dazzling appearance of the powerful nine who, decked in gold and blue, are almost omnipotent to save or to condemn. For the first time for many years the prisoner wore no trace of his profession: as an officer he could not appear -as a seaman he would not appear; but, dressed in a quiet suit of black, he took his station by the side of the marshal, and made his bow to the court. An hour had scarcely elapsed since, with all the speed which money could procure, an elderly gentleman, accompanied by two counsel, skilled in naval courts-martial, had arrived in Dock, and come off to see the prisoner. The senior of these was his father; and having taken such precautions in his behalf as the time allowed, they now prepared to watch the proceedings of the day with feelings, those of the father more especially, which no words can hope to render. |