CHAPTER IV.
A LETTER FROM ST. PATRICK TO HIS BROTHERS AND SONS.
When the pirates had seized Ethne and Baithene, one sharp cry had rung through the glen from the faithful clansman who had been watching below, when a javelin hurled by one of the pirates had pierced his breast, and silenced him for ever. That cry, though unable to reach Ethne and Baithene, muffled as they were in their plaids, had alarmed the household. But, so sudden had been the attack, and so swiftly was the vessel rowed out of the creek, that she was well out at sea before a boat could be launched in pursuit. There were nothing but small river coracles at hand, and the British vessel soon distanced them, and was hopelessly lost sight of.
Even when they reached the opposite shore of the Irish Sea, the pirates still seemed in fear of pursuit, and hugged the shore by day, hiding in creeks, stowing their captives in caves and hollows of the rocks, and then sailing on by moonlight till they reached the southernmost coasts of Britain. At last they came to a creek with which they seemed familiar, carefully steering the vessel through narrow channels between the rocks into a little sandy cove. This cove was shut in by cliffs hollowed at one end into a wonderful series of lofty caverns leading one to another like halls of some palace of the sea-gods.
The sailors had not been rough with the young captives, partly because they were valuable property, partly because their own hearts were not destitute of pity. One especially, called Dewi, had shown them no little kindness (the same who had crossed himself in half-sympathetic, half-superstitious fear of risking the divine displeasure by kidnapping baptized Christians), and missed no opportunity of ministering to their comfort. Moreover, there was in Ethne a heavenly gentleness, and in Baithene an unconquerable good-nature and readiness to help, that won on the rough sailors in spite of themselves. Once, moreover, Dewi had been greatly moved, when he had all but lost his balance in shifting a sail, and Baithene had sprung up from the bottom of the boat, fettered as he was, and had saved him by a timely grasp of his clothes. Here in the strange halls of this sea-cave, for the first time the boy and girl were set free to ramble whither they would. The sides of the cove were quite precipitous, and the outermost of these vaulted palace-chambers opened on another wider bay, which could only be reached by a rocky staircase always carefully guarded. So it happened that the morning after their arrival the brother and sister were left at liberty to wander along the little sandy cove together, to bathe their feet and hands in the waves. They were children enough to enjoy it, and were watching the morning sunbeams dancing on the foaming crests, when in the distance a familiar sound fell on their ears.
“It is like our own Patrick’s bell!” said Ethne.
They listened in silence. It was certainly a bell, and a bell meant Christianity and Christian worship. The clear tones came to them softly, like the pulsations of a heart that loved them.
“It is calling them to the Eucharist of God!” Ethne said, with an awed voice. “There are Christians within reach.”
“Alas! are not these robbers Christians?” exclaimed Baithene.
“I suppose the loveliest things always have the falsest counterfeits,” said Ethne; “but these surely must be real Christians, gathered together to adore our Christ.”