The request was at once complied with, and scarcely was the pony under shelter than down came the storm, the wind blowing furiously, with torrents of rain, while the lightning flashed faster and brighter, and the thunder broke in louder and more crashing peals. The rain kept the party close prisoners in the house till it was time for them to retire to bed. All night the storm raged. At an early hour Lawrence Brindister was on foot, the rain had ceased, but the wind blew as furiously as ever. Lawrence was seen to put on his boots, then hurrying to the stable he mounted Neogle, and followed by Surly Grind, he was trotting off, when Captain Maitland hailed him, and inquired where he was going.
“To Navie Grind, Captain,” was his answer. “I have a fancy for watching the sea breaking over those cliffs, as it will be doing this morning, and maybe I shall get a glimpse of the Spanish ship, for she is not so far off our shores as some of you may think, and as those on board would pray they might be.”
“Heaven forbid that the Spaniard, or any other craft, is near our cliffs at this time,” said Morton. “There are good seamen on board her, and she must have got a good offing before she met the gale.”
“Still, we’ll take a stroll across to Navie Grind, and have a look at the Western Ocean,” observed Maitland. “I love to watch it at all times, in storm or sunshine; but, as my days of romance are over, we’ll have breakfast first. Morton, you’ll agree to that? Mr Lawrence, you’ll join us? The sea will not go down before you have had time to break your fast, nor will, I trust, the Spanish ship heave in sight.”
Notwithstanding, however, all the hospitable old sailor’s persuasions, Lawrence would only be persuaded to take a handful of oatcake and a draught of milk; and then away he trotted on Neogle, followed by Surly Grind, towards the west. Morton and their host took their time in discussing a far more substantial breakfast, consisting of salted and dried haddocks, pickled pork, oaten cakes, and other substantial articles of food, sufficient to astonish a southern stomach. The captain then lighted his pipe, inviting Rolf to join him, and they smoked away in that deliberate manner which showed that they considered it a far pleasanter pastime than battling with the fierce gale outside. Captain Maitland at length shook the ashes out of his pipe, and was considering whether he should light another, when Lawrence Brindister’s voice was heard from below the window, shouting—
“The spirits of the storm have not failed in their duty; the proud Spaniards will meet with their deserts. I knew it would be so. Hurra! hurra! but I’m off again. I wouldn’t miss the sight to be made Earl of Zetland.”
The two friends hurried to the window, and inquired what was the matter.
“Matter!” exclaimed Lawrence. “Why, that the Spanish corvette is driving ashore, and that ere many minutes are over she and all on board will be hurled to destruction. I would save poor Hilda if I could, in spite of her pride and haughtiness, but that is beyond human power to accomplish.”
“Heaven forbid!” exclaimed Captain Maitland. “The poor young lady, we must at all events try to save her and those with her.”
“Are you certain, Mr Lawrence, that it is the Spanish ship you have seen?” shouted Morton; but he received no answer, for Lawrence had turned Neogle’s head, and was galloping off as hard as the little creature could lay hoof to the ground.