“Yes,” cried Herbert, still gazing intently towards, the land, “and that must be Mangerton. Am I right, Mark?”
“What can that mean?” said Mark, seizing Herbert's arm, and pointing to a distant point across Bantry Bay. “There, you saw it then.”
“Yes, a bright flash of flame. See, it burns steadily now.” “Ay, and there's another below Beerhaven, and another yonder at the Smuggler's Rock.”
And while he was yet speaking, the three fires blazed out, and continued to burn brilliantly in the grey light of the morning. The dark mist that moved over the sea gave way before the strong breeze, and the tall spars of a large ship were seen as a vessel rounded the point, and held on her course up Bantry Bay. Even at the distance Mark's experienced eye could detect that she was a ship of war—her ports, on which the sun threw a passing gleam, bristled with guns, and her whole trim and bearing bespoke a frigate.
“She's a King's ship, Mark, in pursuit of some smuggler,” said Herbert; “and the fires we have seen were signals to the other. How beautifully she sails along; and see, is not that another?”
Mark made no reply, but pointed straight out to sea, where now seven sail could be distinctly reckoned, standing towards the Bay with all their canvas set. The report of a cannon turned their eyes towards the frigate, and they perceived that already she was abreast of Whitty Island, where she was about to anchor.
“That gun was fired by her: and see, there goes her ensign. What does that mean, Mark?”
“It means Liberty, my boy!” screamed Mark, with a yell that sounded like madness. “France has come to the rescue! See, there they are—eight—nine of them!—and the glorious tricolor floating at every mast! Oh, great heaven! in whose keeping the destinies of men and kingdoms lie, look favourably upon our struggle now. Yes, my brother, I was right—a brighter hour is about to shine upon our country! Look there—think of those gallant fellows that have left home and country to bring freedom across the seas, and say, if you will be less warm in the cause than the alien and the stranger. How nobly they come along! Herbert, be with us—be of us, now!”
“Whatever be our ills, here,” said Herbert sternly, “I know of no sympathy to bind us to France; nor would I accept a boon at such hands, infidel and blood-stained as she is.”
“Stop, Herbert; let us not here, where we may meet for the last time, interchange aught that should darken memory hereafter. My course is yonder.”