Short Story

Hawera Star, Volume XLVI, 22 January 1927, Page 8

Short Story

OLD MERLIN’S RING.

A TALE OF THE COENISH COAST. Boom! Boom! The thunder of surf against giant crags below, beat like grand music into the old Castle of Trebovth, built up high on the edge of the cliffs. For centuries without number had’ those ancient walls re-echoed to that same cradle song of the Cornish coast, grey this evening in a mist of driving rain, the roar of the sea. and wind; and the scream of gulls flying wildly landward. Inside, the logs sizzled and blazed up the wide chimney with a note of comforting warmth, in contrast to the drear scene without, while the ageworn tapestry on the walls flapped with the draughts that no modem device could altogether keep out. “And it came to pass that a wind arose and drove Lancelot before the seas. And on the sixth day he chanced upon a small ship was in jeopardy, and in it was a stranger of fair visage; aud Lancelot took him and succoured him., not knowing that he was the Magician Merlin. And it befell at midnight, When the moon was high, that they came before a castle which was rich and fair, with a postern open towards the sea. . . . ”

Nancy Van Courtland’s voice, in which the faintest and most fascinating touch of her mother tongue sounded, paused for a moment, while the flame, played upon her white gown with its. border of fur, from under which peeped out a little rose-coloured slipper. None of the house party gathered, around the fire spoke, and aft»r a moment she continued reading from the ancient book before her. “. . And Lancelot brought in the stranger, and left him warm before the fire in the great hall ’till morning. Then said Merlin: ‘Silver and gold have I none, but in reward for to-night’s work ever shall my eye watch over this castle and guard those therein from peril_ou the seas.’ So saying, he took the ring from off his finger and stone from out of it. and in its place he planted one of his eyes. And at dawn when Lancelot come once more, he found nought ol’ him, only the ring. 7 ’ • “It twinkled, it twinkled! Oh Mr Barrington, didn’t you see it?’’ A woman’s voice cried in an excited scream from the other side of the hearth as Nancy held up an ancient ring for her guests’ inspection, and the flames caught and turned it into a thousand iridescent lights. “The firelight plays strange tricks,” 3 man’s even tones answered. “Why should it be the firelight 1” a soft, slightly foreign voice interposed. “This is the sort of night when the spirit of old Merlin would sure to be restless, and I daresay his eye is watching us. ’ ’ •'I feel that, too, Mr D’Alvarez,” Nancy’s fresh tones broke in again. “Anyway, that is the legend of the castle, and to this very day the Cornish folks believe that the ring, will preserve its wearer from drowning.” “I should not like to have to put my trust in it to-night,” Barrington answered, as a fresh gust of wind shook the castle, and the seas beat and lashed like an infuriated beast below. “T only wish it could be my privilege,” murmured the Spaniard, his dark glance caressing the fair-haired girl before him. The two men’s eyes met in a mute challenge that was not lost upon those present. For many days it had been obvious that the leisurely mannered English barrister and the tall Spaniard, Ferdinand I)’Alvarez, were rivals for the hand of the dainty American heiress, whose latest whim had been the purchase of this old Cornish castle, where she revelled .in mediaeval atmosphere, and strove her utmost to live up to its traditions. Lately it had seemed as if the foreigner were winning, for( while he never lost an opportunity of pandering to the girl’s love of romance, which was one of her strongest characteristics. Barrington refused even to attempt to seale the stubborn wall of pride which her money raised between them, and she. who had never been denied a whim in all her adored life, was bitterly piqued in consequence. Therefore, the' more flagrantly did she encourage I)’Alvarez, while the Englishman looked on with his cool, grey gaze, giving no sign of the jealous agonies he was enduring. ’ “Oh. you are always so sceptical, Mr Barrington,” Nancy’s voice broke in a trifle petulantly. “You are just like your dry old English law, all har-1 facts and logic.” The barrister laughed good-natured-ly. “Fact's are quite useful things sometimes, I assure you,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “Well, anyway. I believe in the legend.” Nancy retorted; “and T just Wish that something would happen to prove-that it is true.” “I wish. it. too,” murmured D’Alvarez. “How seldom in these prosaic, days is one given the privilege of doing a deed of heroism for one’s ladv’s sake.”

“As for heroism,” answered Barrington. “these things are entirely _a question of point of view.. Half the so-called brave dedes one reads of are only the results of wist so much vanity and misguided emotion, when one comes to analyse them. The really solid thing, in my opinion, is to preserve one’s life and make good with it.” “Supposing it were a question of going out to sea to-night if there were lives to be saved,” Nancy said; “do you mean to sav you would not go?” Barrington threw away the finished end of his cigarette. “I don’t know,” he answered. abruptly. '“No ione ever really knows what, they will do until they are put to the teat.” And yon, Mr D’Alvarez?” A pinkdanger signal burned on each of the girl’s fair cheeks. “What do you say? ” “No one but a coward would hesitate,” the foreigner answered, slurring his words. There was no mistaking the insult; the two men faced one another across the hearth like dogs about to fight, and the limited space between them became tense with forces. Nancy’s breath caught in her throat as she M'nsed the coming storm, and knew ii was through her it had been evoked. Boom! Tt was neither the thunder of wind nor wave that reverberated through that charged silence now. broken by a cry from somebody. “A gun! There is a ship upon the rocks.” .

i Came a great- knocking upon the I castle gate; came the rush of many i feet; a moment more and the hall was I tilled with a motley crowd of sailors j and fisher folk. For generations it had been their custom, and that of those before them, to go to the lady of the castle in any hour of need, and I inherited instincts clamoured within them now as they crowded around the fair-haired girl, in her white gown, praying her for help, as if, indeed, in her’ frail hands lay the power to stay the raging seas. Stephen Pemuddock, the old coastguavdsmanfi who knew that coast- as did no other, and who had watched the changing phases of many- seas from his stone hut upon the cliffs, was the spokesman. “The wreck is near to the laud,” he said; “it is unlikely that any can be saved from it, but will the lady of the castle have beds warmed and ready in case any are brought ashore?” “Is the boat going out?” she asked. He shook his'liead. “No boat, could live :in such a sea.” “The rocket apparatus?” “The boys have fired it,” he answered, “but them, foreign sailors don’t understand the workings of it, so it be no use. ’ ’ “What ship is it?” “A Spanish emigrant, lady, aud there be women and children on board.” “I’ll give a thousand pounds to each of the crew who will man a boat, ” cried Nancy impulsively. The offer was a tempting one; some of the men half came forward, but still hesitated; they had wives and children to think of, and the risks were colossa,!. “The boys’d go right enough, if one of the gentlemen from here, maybe, would give them a lead,” whispered old Stephen. Boom! Another gun called through ’the darkening night, and impelled bv the fresh excitement the crowd began to surge towards the doors, and with their opening the draughts blew the lights low. Round the hearth were still gathered Nancy’s little group of guestsamong whom she distinguished the tall figure of D’Alvarez. A moment- she stood before them, a vivid figure in her white gown and shining hair, then from her finger she took off something that flashed and flamed, while her voice Tang through the hall clear with the inspiration that is born of faith. “This ring is pledged to bring back its wearer from many seas, it is the emblem of this house, and I believe in it. The man who wears it to-night will not find me ungrateful when he returns.” A hush fell, for all understood what she meant; sbe was offering herself to the man who would prove his heroism, offering herself as the price of those helpless lives. “She is a. Spanish ship,” the girl’s voice said again, “and the men want a leader.” Her eyes rested upon D ’Alvarez. He did not answer, but under the flicker of the wind-blown lights his face seemed to shine with more than its habitual whiteness; just behind him stood Barrington, smiling slightly, and on the small table nearby where Nancy had laid it, the ring gleamed and glowed as if indeed it were the watching eye that legend declared it to be. The rest of the departing crowd surg cd out of the doors, and as they swung to a sudden gust of wind extinguished the lights completely, leaving the lia)I in darkness. When once more it was illuminated, I) ’Alvarez had gone, and Merlin’s ring no longer lay upon the table. Mervyn Barrington was leisurely mounting the staircase. “Are you going too?” Nancy cried, the sharp note of fear, of pain in her voice could not bp denied. He turned, yawning slightly, “llrar lady, where?” “To the beach with the men?” He was still smiling. “Indeed, no; I was about to crave your indulgence for a very tired man. I am going to bed. Hawn broke at last in grey streaks, creeping in through the narrow windows of the castle and filling the hall with dim light. The gale had dropped suddenly, with one of those changes so typical of the ‘Cornish coast, which one moment lashing and howling like a demon, t-lie • next is fair and smiling-as a woman. On the hearth the fire was piled high ready for the storm-beaten men. who all that night had fought the raging storm, until at last at dawn the message “All saved!” had been borne to where Nancy waited alone for tie return of the man who at a word from her had gone out into that wild night, and now was coining back to claim I, is reward. A reward well won indeed, and hers only the bitter uncounted eostAll night, long had she watched the red light of that cockle-shell of a boat .as it fought its way like a star across that- waste of waters, high up on the waves one moment, the next, hidden in some awful valley, when it did not seem possible that, it could return, and as she watched a. strange fancy had become rooted in her mind that it was not the boat’s light which she saw, but the eternal fires from Merlin’s ring that many waters could not put out, and so until with the dawn had come that, wild burst of hysterical cheering which told that all was well. Now. D’Alvarez was coming back, and lu-r word was pledged to him. as the price of these saved livesl Well the duty was hers, and she would not fail nor shrink from it, as had the man she loved from his. The man she loved! - She faced the knowledge with bitter shame. He who had let- others go fortli to do men’s work, while he lay sleep ing. he who neither knew nor cared what came with the day. Yet so powerful in reason against this strongest of all things in the world that she knew , that had that- red light- upon the seas been his. courage might in freed have failed her through the long night. , Mary, the housekeeper, answered her [ summons at the bell. “Mr D ’Alvarez and the men will lie back at any moment now.’’ Nancy , said. “Arc the fires made up and fh-‘ beds ready?” . The old woman eyed her shrewdly. \ Not the vigil of one sleepless night had painted those purple rings beneath [ the girl’s eyes, she knew, j “That furreigner.” she replied, with , insular contempt. “Tt’s not, much of .a I seaman that he be, T’rn thinking.” Even as she spoke men came pouring r into the hall, the water streaming from 1 their tarpaulins, the spray still caked to their eyelids. “Men.” cried Nancy, “I thank you , all. You have upheld the glory of Treboyfch. I am proud of you.”

Old Mary was busy handing round glosses filled with steaming hot drinks, and, seizing one of these as she spoke, Nancy went to the wide staircase, and, mounting a few steps, stood there, the light from the oriel window behind shining upon her white gown, and turning to golden the glory of her hair. “Men,” she said again, a little unsteadily, “1 am going to propose a toast. It- is to our brave men of Tre 1/oyth. ’ ’ Old Stephen Pcnriuldoek came forward. “Aye, lady,” he answered, “bur before you drink it, there is one who 1 would like to ask to be included in it. too. The brave gentleman from the castle who led the men last night. For without, him we none of us would have gone, nor, I’m thinking, would many of us have come back. ’ ’ Nancy’s eyes sought that sea of faces, and there among them recognised that of D ’Alvarez. “I had not forgotten him,” she answered, “You are all Cornish men here, you know the history of the castle, and the ancient trophy which they call Merlin’s ring, and of tne legend that goes with it. Men, I am going to give that ring, here before you all, to the man who led you last night, and because that ring cannot pass from the castle, you all know what it means, that I give inyself to him.” She flushed as she spoke, and her ’due eyes shone with a kind of idealism such as might be seen in those of saints at the moment of great, sacrifice. “That ring went with you. last night,” she concluded. “It was in the boat, upon his finger, and it. fulfilled its mission, to bring back its wearer from many seas.” There was a little hushed silence. Nu one stirred. Then Nancy spoke again. “Where 1s that man?” she said. “Please will you bring him to me?” Again there was that curious hush, until Stephen Penrod dock, who appeared to be spokesman, came forward. “Indeed, lady, you ask a difficult, question, and we be puzzled, for the gentleman was covered in a sou ’-wester and the night was very dark. We none of us saw his face. We just found him there on the beach, leading us, and cheering us ou, and it was his voice all night long that gave us courage, or we’d have turned back many times, for we was night to death, but he never failed. Aye, but he were a man..” Nancy ’s eyes met those of the Spaniard; in hers was a gentle reproach. “Mr D’Alvarez,-do you still hesitate to claim vour reward?”

The Spaniard came to the foot of the stairs and bowed low. His face had turned a deep crimson, a queer glint of excitement shone in ihs eyes. “Dear lady, believe me, it was no lack of eagerness ,on my part, but natural modesty. No man cares to bo acclaimed a hero in public.” “Of bravery of last night’s, no man need be ashamed,” the American girl said proudly. ‘‘Now, Mr D’Alvarez, please, the ring. * ’ The- Spaniard seemed flustered, and hesitated. “The ring,” Nancy repeated, a trifle impatiently. “'»We have kept these men waiting long, enough.” “I must have lost it in the boat, or knocked it off my finger,” he mut--1 ered. “I cannot find it.” “Lost.! Merlin's ring!” The utter astonishment in her tone brought his shifting eyes up to hers, and, looking around, he read suspicion and distrust upo.n every face, while a murmur grew like the first hiss of the sea when it was getting angry. “Old Merlin’s ring; it can’t never be lost. It were that ring that brought us through last night. It can’t never be lost.” He had not reckoned with the strange Celtic twist in, or the innate superstition of, the Cornish character. To them, the ring was a legend of the castle which had grown with the centuries. and the story had been handed down to them from cradle to cradle. They believed in that ring, and their faith in it was as impregnable as the castle itself. He heard the murmur of that angry sea growing nearer, and was afraid. “I confess I have lost the ring,” he cried, “therefore I can claim no reward, and will go. ’ ’ But before he could move more than a step forward through that throng of men, old Stephen's voice rang out again sternly. “There be queer work here. That be not the voice of the man in the boat last night. Men, I ask ye. be that the voice?” “No, no. I were never the voice of that furreigner.’’ The sea was lashing now; he could hear it. lii another moment it would be upon him like a tidal wave. He looked into their faces, men sea-born, fierce, unpitying, remorseless as that sea -itself. He turned to fly out by the back, but there, just come up from the kitchen stairs, trav in hand, with a fresh relay of drinks, was old Mary, fiercely guarding the way. “No, nor the face!” she cried, and her words wore as the seream of the storm as it broke. “None o’ you saw his face, but I did. I saw it when he came back, and then fell on the beach exhausted for a moment, before he crept away so as none of you should know who lie was. As for this furreigner’’ —slic pointed a contemptuous finger at H’Alvarez —“he slept between warm sheets with a hot water bottle, aud then slunk out in the early hours to pretend that he had been with the men. That’s what he did.” Now the waves lashed. With a roar the men closed around him. He felt himself heckled, buffeted, all but borne down. In another moment the waters would close over him.

“Out with the furreigner —out with him! ’ ’ Then suddenly Nancy’s voice rose clear above the roar of those raging waters, and there came a calm. “Hold! Where is the ring?” .* * * * Then, also by way of the kitchen stairs, creeping softly so as not to arouse the castle, which he still believed to be sleeping, his usually pale face pink with the sting of wind and spray, came Mervyn Barrington. He fell back in astonishment as he saw the crowded hall, t-lic girl on the stairs, and D’Alvarez’s livid face. “Whatever is all this?” he asked. “That’s him." Tf was old Mary’s voice, in shrill triumph. “That’s him; let him deny it if he likes, bill he’s your man.” The young barrister hesitated, flush cd, ami would gladly also have turned to flee, though from a. different motive to that of D’Alvarez, but he met the girl's eyes, and for a moment was speechless. Then the sun burst forth with sudden glory through the window blind, and its rays caught something on his hand which glowed and scintillated with a thousand lights. The others saw it, too. and the cry went round: ? “Old Merlin’s ring! Old Merlin's ring! ’ ’ They crowded about him joyously; they lifted him up and bore him on their shoulders to where, ou the stairs, the girl stood waiting, and the murmur of their voices was as the sea upon the summer’s day, beating upon the sunlit chores of some happy land.

And in that moment D’Alvarez tool j liis opportunity to make good his escape'. ! “Why didn't you tell me!’’ Nancy! asked, when presently the men had gone and they were alone. “X didn’t want to make a, fuss,’’ Barrington declared apologetically: “besides T wasn’t at all sure that 1 was going- to succeed.’’ “When did you decide to go?’’ “When The lights went out, I fell D’Alvarez rush past me, and could tell he was in a blue funk, and something had to be done, so I just picked up

I the ring and pretended 1 was going to bed. | Her eyes met his with a world of , reproach in them that brought the barriers of pride down at last, i “You might not have come back,'’ she said, “and you never even looked to me to say good-bye.’’ “My dear,’’ he answered simply. “ if 1 had looked at you I might not have had the courage to go. You see, as l told you once before, one never knows what one will do until one is put to the test.” And at, what followed the eye of Old Merlin twinkled wickedly.—Olive Lethbridge in the Australasian. *