William was seated one evening in the public-house of the village, reading the newspaper, when a party of sailors entered, and, calling for some drink, casually asked if there were any seamen in the village. The landlady civilly replied in the negative; but William, looking up, remarked, without noticing the winks of the landlord, that he had seen Tom Sangster arrive that morning.
“And where lives Tom Sangster, my hearty cock?” said the principal of the party, slapping him on the back, while the rest got betwixt the landlady and the door. He immediately informed them; and, drinking off their liquor quickly, they left the house.
“Willie,” cried the landlady, “what hae ye done? It’s the press-gang, and Tam Sangster ’ll be torn frae his wife and bairns!”
In a moment William was past her, and, running with full speed, by a nearer cut, he arrived before the gang at the house. He had just time to make the seaman strip his jacket, and put on his coat, and jump out at the back window, when the gang entered. William, without turning round, knocked out the lamp, when a struggle ensued, which he contrived to keep up so long as that Tom Sangster might be out of the way. He was at last overpowered and carried aboard the tender, when they discovered they had lost the regular sailor; but the one they had got was too likely a young man to be suffered to depart. The consciousness of having remedied an error he had committed, even though in ignorance, partly consoled William for parting with his beloved Elsie for a little. It was at the time when the news of the glorious victory of the Nile had arrived, and many a young and aspiring bosom burned to be under the command of so gallant an admiral. William’s father belonged to the navy; he knew that he fought under Nelson; and the thought that he might be able to combat by his side, and under the eye of the hero who was his country’s boast, somewhat palliated the idea of leaving his love. Besides, he would soon return laden with honours and riches, and Elsie would share both.
Auspicious hope! in thy sweet garden grow
Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe.
And thus he consoled himself with a flattering vision in circumstances that he could not alter. As for poor Elsie, her timid mind had never contemplated bloodshed and war. She loved, fervently loved, and her life had been one scene of pleasure. She was a dreamer that all the night long had quaffed the brimful cup of happiness, and in the morning waked to wretchedness. To lamentations, however, succeeded some consultation for a remedy; and she was advised, by her sorrowing neighbours, to apply to the laird for his interest. Loose, unprincipled, and broken down in fortune, he had returned, from the fashionable life he could no longer support, to live on his estate; and he was not beloved by his tenants. But when a woman loves, and the object of her affection is in danger, where is the obstacle that can oppose her? Elsie exerted herself to call on him.
The poet has beautifully said,
Ah, too convincing, dangerously dear,
In woman’s eye th’ unanswerable tear,