Meanwhile the Mountjoy and the Phoenix were coming close upon the boom, and the forts on either side were plying them with shot. Douglas never moved. One of the seamen was struck down beside him, but he never turned his head. The wind was coming in little airs, but the tide was running hard. Gervase saw the Mountjoy through the smoke, a cable´s length ahead, suddenly strike upon the wooden barrier that lay across the river. Then the gallant little vessel swung round and grounded in the narrow channel. A great cheer went up from the banks, while they saw the redcoats hastening to their boats to board the stranded ship. “Now, McKeller, see what you can do with the long gun,” cried Douglas, as the mate with Gervase´s assistance brought the cannonade to bear on the mass of men who were moving to the bank. But the master of the Mountjoy was a stout seaman and knew his work. Quickly his guns were brought to the landward side, and at the discharge the little vessel slipped into the channel again, and went floating toward the boom with the running tide. Meanwhile the Swallow´s long boat under the boatswain´s mate had been laid alongside the barrier, and the bluejackets were plying it with cutlasses and hatchets. Every man did his best that hour, and as the Mountjoy struck the boom a second time, the great barrier cracked and broke and went swinging up the river.
McKeller leapt upon the bulwarks regardless of the risk he ran, and waved his hat with fine enthusiasm: “God save Their Majesties,” he cried, “and down with Popery.”
Every man on board knew that the work was done and the city was saved. But the wind had fallen with the afternoon and it was a dead calm. Only with the tide the vessels came slowly up the river; then the long boats of the Swallow took them in tow, and with the setting sun the vessels came drifting into Ross´s bay. It was ten o´clock at night when the Phoenix, Andrew Douglas, Master (and a proud man was he!), came to its moorings at the little quay close by Ship Quay Gate.
No man has such gift of speech as to describe the scene when the master stepped ashore and raised his hat in presence of the thronging crowd. Men and women went frantic in their joy. Falling upon each other´s necks and wringing one another by the hand, they forgot that stern reserve that marks their race and people. Bonfires were lighted upon the ramparts, and the bells rang out a joyous peal, and all the while the unlading of the ship went on, till all men were satisfied, and the terror of the morning seemed like a dream that had passed away.
Gervase left the Phoenix unnoticed in the tumult, and made his way through the deserted streets to his old lodging. The door was lying open, but the house was deserted. Simon and all his family were in all likelihood among the crowd at the quay. Then he lighted his lamp and sat down to enjoy his golden dreams alone. His heart was filled with the thought of what he had done and of the reward he hoped to win.
He would call upon Dorothy in the morning--Dorothy, whose sweet face had kept him company through his perils, and the thought of whom had moved him in his dangers. She had told him that she loved him.
The darkness was gone and they had come into the sweet sunshine at last. And so he dreamed his dreams till Mistress Sproule returned laden with her spoils, and gave him a joyous welcome as to one who had come back from death.
CHAPTER XXI.
OF HOW THE VICOMTE MADE HIS GREAT RENUNCIATION.
On the following morning Gervase was up betimes. It seemed to him that a new world had opened out before him with boundless possibilities of joy and hope. For weeks he had been dragging himself about like one bent under the infirmities of age; to-day the blood of youth ran quick in his veins. With a pride that was pardonable, he felt that he had done his task manfully and performed his share in a work as memorable as any in his time. He had won honour for himself, and he had found the one woman who realized his boyhood´s ideal. She was waiting for him now--waiting with that glad and joyous look in her steadfast eyes that had thrilled him at times when his grief had weighed upon him. She must know that the work he had undertaken was done for her sake, and that he would be with her presently to claim his reward.