The Heir of Kilfinnan - A Tale of the Shore and Ocean

William Henry Giles Kingston

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• Publié par: shewyer
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 16
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heir of Kilfinnan, by W.H.G. Kingston
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Title: The Heir of Kilfinnan
A Tale of the Shore and Ocean
Author: W.H.G. Kingston
Illustrator: Holloway
Release Date: October 31, 2007 [EBook #23269]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEIR OF KILFINNAN ***
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
W.H.G. Kingston
"The Heir of Kilfinnan"
Preface.
The following tale contains materials for a full-sized novel, but my readers
probably will not object to have them condensed into a single modest volume.
The scene of a considerable portion of the story is laid on the coast of Ireland,
where the peasantry mostly speak the native Irish, and I have therefore
translated what my characters say into ordinary English rather than into the
generally received brogue, which would be, coming from their lips, as
inappropriate as Spanish or Dutch.
When English is spoken, it sounds somewhat high-flown, but is certainly purer
than the language of the same class in England. Thus, my hero talks more like a
well-educated young gentleman than a humble fisher lad. If that is considered a
defect, I hope that it may be redeemed by the stirring incidents with which the
tale abounds, and that old and young may alike find as much amusement as they
expect in its perusal.
WHGK.Chapter One.
The west coast of Ireland presents scenery of the most beautiful and romantic
character. Here grey peaks rise up amidst verdure of emerald green; trees of
varied hue come feathering down close to the water; yellow sands line the
shores of many lonely bays; dark rocks of fantastic shape extend out into the
ocean, while deep blue lochs mirror on their bosoms the varied forms of the
surrounding heights. On the south-west part of the coast a wide bay is to be
found. At the extreme southern end, up a deep loch, a castle, the seat of an
ancient family, reared its towers high above the waters. The bay came sweeping
round at some places with a hard sandy beach; then, again, the ground rose,
leaving but a narrow ledge between the foot of the cliffs and the waters. Thus
the shore extended on for some distance, forming a lofty headland, when it
again sank to its former level. A reef of rocks ran out a considerable distance
into the ocean, forming a natural breakwater to the bay. Here and there to the
north were several deep indentations, in which fishing-boats and several coasting
craft might find shelter. In some of these little bays fishermen had formed their
habitations, mostly out of the wrecks of stout ships which had been cast on their
rocky shores. In some of the coves or bays several huts had been congregated
together, but a short distance north of the promontory which has been spoken of
stood a single hut. It was strongly built of ships’ timbers and roofed with stout
planks, kept down by heavy stones, so that, though the furious blasts which
swept across the Atlantic blew against it, it had hitherto withstood the rough
shocks to which it had been exposed.
The day was lovely; not a cloud dimmed the blue heavens, while the sun setting
over the distant ocean shed a glow of light across the waters, rippled by a gentle
westerly breeze. Several boats were approaching the shore. In one of them sat a
lad. No other person was to be seen on board. The dark nets were piled up in the
centre of the boat, at the bottom of which a number of fish, still giving signs of
life, showed that he had been successful in his calling. Every now and then he
looked up at the tanned sail to see that it drew properly, and then would cast his
eye towards the shore to watch the point to which he was steering. He could
scarcely have numbered twelve summers, though his figure was tall and slight.
His trousers were rolled up above the knees, showing his well-turned legs and
feet. His shirtsleeves were treated in the same manner, while the collar, thrown
back, exhibited his broad and well-formed chest. His eyes were large and dark,
and the hue of his skin gave indication that Spanish blood was flowing in his
veins; while his dark locks escaping from beneath his fisherman’s red cap, gave a
still more southern look to his well-chiselled features. His practical knowledge
and activity seemed to have made up for his want of strength, for few boys of his
age would have ventured forth to sea in a fishing-boat of that size by themselves.
Another and a larger boat had been for some time steering a course to approach
him.
“Ah! Dermot, me darlin’; and all alone too?” said a man from the boat which now
overtook him.
“Yes! my mother was ill and unable to go off, so I went by myself; an’ see, Uncle
Shane, I have had a good haul for my pains.”
“I see, boy, an’ sure I’m glad of it,” said the first speaker; “but you are scarcely
strong enough to go off alone, for should a gale spring up you would be unable to
manage that boat by yourself.”
“Och! an’ haven’t I managed her before now in heavy weather?” replied Dermot.“But suppose, Uncle Shane, I was lost, would you take care of my mother? She’s
not so strong as she used to be; toil has worn her down, working hard for me
when I ought to have been toiling for her.”
“I will,” answered Shane.
“Will you swear it, uncle, by the Holy Virgin and the blessed saints?”
“I will, Dermot, as I hope for mercy in the day of trouble. But why do you ask that
question?”
“Because, uncle, as I was pulling up my nets I slipped and almost fell overboard. I
thought that had my feet been entangled, as they might have been, I should
have gone down an’ been unable to regain the boat. We none of us know what
may happen: but could I feel that my mother would be protected from want, it
would nerve my arm, and make me feel more ready for whatever lot may be in
store for me.”
“Boy,” observed the elder fisherman, looking at his nephew, “you are thoughtful
above your years; but the saints will protect you, and I will not forget to make an
offering to Saint Nicholas, that he may watch over you.”
Thus conversing the old man and the lad steered their boats towards the shore
side by side, the former hauling in his mainsail somewhat to lessen the speed of
his boat. They parted to the northward of the promontory described, Dermot
steering for the little cove in which stood the solitary hut already spoken of, while
his uncle continued along the shore a little further to the north.
Dermot ran his boat between two rocks, at the end of which was a small sandy
beach, where a capstan being placed he was enabled to haul her up out of the
water. As he approached, a woman was seen descending from the hut. The
same dark eyes and raven hair, though somewhat streaked with white in her
case, which characterised the boy, was observable in the woman. Her figure was
thin and wiry, giving indication of the severe toil to which she was exposed. She
was dressed in a rough frieze petticoat, with a dark handkerchief drawn across
her bosom, and the usual red cloak and hood worn at that time by most of the
peasantry of the west of Ireland was thrown over her shoulders.
“Mother!” exclaimed the boy, “see, I have done well; I have had a better haul
than we have got for many a day.”
“And may be, Dermot, we will have a better market too,” observed the woman.
“It is said the Earl has come to the castle with many fine people, and they will be
wanting fish to a certainty. It would be too late now to go, they would not see
you; but to-morrow morning, as soon as the sun is up, you shall set forth, and to
be sure they’ll be glad to buy fish of my Dermot.” The woman drew herself up as
she spoke, and looked towards the boy with a glance of pride, as if she would not
exchange him for any of the highest born in the land.
“How are you, mother?” asked Dermot; “have all those aches of which you were
complaining gone away? Do you feel strong again?”
“Yes; the saints were merciful; I did not forget to pray to them, and they have
heard me,” answered the woman.
With her, as with most of her countrywomen, superstition, if it had not altogether
taken the place of religion, had been strangely mixed up with it; yet she spoke in
a tone of simple and touching faith, at which no one with any feeling would haveventured to sneer.
Next morning, Dermot, laden with the finest of his fish in a basket at his back, set
off along the shores of the bay towards Kilfinnan Castle. The approach to it was
wild and picturesque. A narrow estuary, having to be crossed by a bridge, almost
isolated the castle from the mainland, for the ground on which the old fortress
stood was merely joined to it by a rugged and nearly impassable ledge of rocks.
The castle itself was of considera