“I should think he shook in his shoes when those men were down here. Was he not alarmed, Duncan?”
“Our master was, Mac, certainly alarmed; but, take my word, he’ll go on just in the same way. He is just like the little animal which, when once it tastes the blood of its victim, never gives up pursuit until it has secured the prey. The lord of Dunraven will, in my opinion, continue wrecking until some great calamity befalls his house or his family.”
The subsequent doings of Mr. Vaughan fully established the opinion of Duncan. Although he had been in imminent danger of having his crime discovered, yet, when those who conducted the inquiry had left the vicinity, the lord of Dunraven, with renewed energy and more resolute determination, carried on his nefarious calling. In each succeeding winter, vessels were wrecked in Dunraven Bay which had been decoyed thither by the false lights he had caused to be placed in the tower. From these wrecks he realized large sums. Had he been permitted to pursue his satanic designs for a few years longer, he would have become the richest man in the vale of Glamorgan.
In consequence of the great losses ship-owners had sustained by reason of these wrecks, and the terror which the scenes of Dunraven had inspired, both owners and masters of vessels trading up and down the Bristol Channel were alarmed, and were in constant apprehensions lest they should experience the same disaster which had unhappily befallen so many of their brethren. Captain ap William, however, was not deterred from pursuing his seafaring calling by these disasters, though his wife, previously to his starting on every voyage, warned him of the danger of following so hazardous a pursuit. Yet, in spite of those warnings, and the urgent solicitations of his wife to remain at home, he continued going to sea.
It was after one of these wrecks, when more than ordinary violence had been used by the men of Dunraven, that the captain and his wife were walking from St. Bride’s along the carriage way to Dunraven. This was their favourite walk, and it was, moreover, associated with many a happy scene in days of yore. After pursuing their walk for some time in silence, Mrs. ap William began to weep.
“Why those tears, Myfanwy?” asked her husband.
“I weep, John,” she replied, “in thought of the prospect of our separation. Oh, you will not leave me again, will you?”
“Indeed, wife, I must.”
“But where is the necessity for you to risk your life again? We have enough to keep us in independence and comfort.”
“I have promised my employers to go on this one voyage.”