In mid sea they met and engaged a Turkish vessel. The Turk was greatly superior in size and force; but a band of brave spirits animated into heroes by the example of their King, were not to be conquered by common efforts, Sebastian fought like a roused lion; he fought for the first time; he fought for the lives and liberties of men whom his rashness had endangered; he fought too for honour, and he fought against infidels. After a long and fierce resistance, the Turk struck his flag, and Sebastian ordered the ensign of the cross, to take its place. His heart hailed an omen which promised victory over Mahomet.
Elated with conquest, the royal galliot proceeded direct for Lisbon: as they were entering the mouth of the Tagus, a sudden storm arose, and for some hours Sebastian beheld death approaching in a more appalling shape than when dimly seen among the flashing of arms. But his courage did not desert him even then: nay, it shone with steadier brightness as the danger darkened. By remaining undismayed himself, he recalled the energies of others. Every effort and activity were exerted; and it proved ultimately successful: they rode out the storm in safety through a starless night, and the next morning were seen entering the Tagus in triumph with their prize.
The return of their beloved prince thus accompanied, circulated extreme joy throughout Lisbon:—in his safety and his conquest, the boyish imprudence of his conduct was forgotten, and exultation alone appeared on the faces of the Portuguese. But alas! this exultation was quickly swallowed up in horror; for the plague, which during the King’s absence had appeared in several provinces, now broke out in the city, and swept away thousands with resistless fury.
Sebastian’s strenuous exertions were applied to stop the progress of this calamity: he refused to abandon his capital, confidently reposing on the protection of heaven, while engaged in the performance of a duty. Often was this youthful father of his people seen passing from house to house, to witness the execution of the orders he issued for the relief of his suffering subjects: often was he seen to weep over domestic wounds, which not even the hand of a munificent prince could heal.
When the contagion had exhausted its rage, and the few remaining inhabitants awoke from their stupefaction, the King’s safety became a miracle in their eyes: and Sebastian himself, recollecting his conquest over the infidel and the tempest, believed his life preserved for some admirable purpose.
It was with bitter regret that he now saw his African enterprize frustrated for awhile: his dominions wasted by sickness, and enfeebled by terror, were not capable of affording him those supplies, necessary to success; he therefore laid aside the plan, and went with his cousin Antonio, to recover from their fatigue and mortification among the romantic scenes of the prior’s residence near Crato.
It was in this enchanting retreat that he was startled by a proposal from his first minister, for his marriage with a princess of France. Though Sebastian treated the idea of love (such as he saw it amongst his young courtiers,) with infinite scorn, and wondered how a man’s heart could find room for any other passion than glory, he had at this moment a confused idea, that preference at least, was necessary to make the marriage yoke pleasant, or light. He hastily caught up the miniature of the lady (which had been sent with the proposal,) and looked earnestly at it: the next instant he threw it away, exclaiming with his usual impetuosity, “’tis a peevish, little-souled face, and I would not marry the original if she had all France for her dowry.”
Antonio took up the picture, and eyed it with some admiration—“and pray my good, insensible cousin,” he said, “what wouldst thou have?—here is a very pretty neck, a skin like roses and lilies, a delicate mouth, tolerable eyes!—the princess is, I dare say, a charming little doll, with which a man might amuse himself very agreeably, when he had nothing else to do.”
“But I shall always have something else to do,” replied Sebastian, “I cannot bear the thought of having a contemptible play-thing for a wife; yet I should despise myself were I ever to be fascinated by any woman into the servile bondage of love,—no; you must all wait my time: I shall marry some day; but I swear by Heaven, not before I have combatted the infidels on their own ground.”
“That is a very foolish vow,” observed Antonio, “and I’d have you recal it.”