CHAPTER I. THE BOATMAN.
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Still shorter was a short winter's day
rendered by a heavy and gloomy mist
that filled the atmosphere and made it
murky twilight long before the sun went
down. It had just ended, in blasts and
pelting rain, when a Thames boatman,
chilled and wet by exposure, and with
a pair of oars upon his shoulder, entered
the door of his humble abode by the
river side.
His habitation, although wretched
enough, seemed to be a palace of comfort
in his eyes, as they met the cheerful
blaze upon the hearth, with his good
wife stooping down and cooking a warm
supper for him, and beheld upon a few
coals, seething most invitingly, a mug
of egg flip. The sight made him smile
with a cheery expression upon his dark,
sun-browned face, which, as he first entered,
looked sour and discomposed:
and when his young wife, and handsome
withal, rose up and turned to welcome
him with `I am so glad you have
come in, Martin!' spoken in the tones
that only a loving wife can utter, his
gloomy aspect disappeared entirely, and
he responded with a kindliness of look
and voice which showed that he not only
loved his wife, but had his heart in the
right place:
`And glad am I to come in, Martha,
for the night is as cheerless and cold as
I ever would care to be abroad in!' he
said, placing his oars in beckets over
the door.
`Then I am rejoiced that you havn't
to go on the river! It is so rare that I
have you at home with me so early, that
I feel grateful to the storm and darkness
that keeps travelers in their houses. How
drenched your muffler is?' she added
with a look of surprise and sympathy, as
she untied it from his neck and hung it
dripping upon a chair by the fire. `What
a time you must have had!'
`Yes, and no fares at that, Martha,'
he answered, removing his heavy, wet
over-coat, the numerous patches upon
which showed both the poverty of the
husband and the tenderness and skill of
the wife. It also revealed, suspended by
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a ribbon upon his breast, a silver medal.
`I have been since three o'clock
pacing up and down the pier-head in the
cold and mist that fairly penetrates the
marrow of one's bones! Such an afternoon
I haven't seen of late! But in it
all, for three hours, have I been at my
stand waiting for a fare; sometimes I
would shelter myself in the nook of the
stairs, and sometimes I would have to
get under the coal-sheds; but I nearly
perished with cold! This fire is so comfortable!
Don't you think the flip is
done?' he asked, as he took his seat before
the fire in a chair which she placed
for him with assiduous attention; for,
from the moment of his coming in, she
seemed to think of nothing but to make
him forget his past discomforts in the
comforts of the present. And she would
have succeeded, but for a weight that
was upon his heart, the weight of want
and poverty, which he could not altogether
throw off.
`You should have come home sooner,
Martin. I am sorry you stayed so
late. If you had thought you might
have seen nobody would have wanted
to go off such an evening! There!' she
added, placing in his hands the mug of
flip. which she had taken up from the
fire, and was stirring and preparing for
him while she was saying this; `there!
drink part of this, and I know you will
feel better and be warm in a minute!'
`It is very nice, Martha,' he answered
as he took the mug from his lips.—
`You make flip better than any boatman's
wife on the Thames. I ought to
be happy and fling ugly thoughts to the
winds when I think how good and loving
a wife I've got! But one can't help
feeling!'
`Yes, but perhaps to-morrow you will
be more successful! You don't have to
pay the money until to-morrow night at
six o'clock, and between this and then
who knows but you will get the money!
Ten fares, at a shilling each, will make
it up; and you know, last year, you
have some days had as many as fifteen
fares in a day!'
`But last year was somehow a better
year, for I call to mind what will follow
the want of the money I have been straining
every nerve to earn by the time it is
due. I cannot help feeling anxious.
`Your father's life, dear Martha,' he
added in an under tone, and glancing
his eye to a door of an inner room,
`may depend on it.'
`I feel this, Martin, I feel it as keenly
as you do, for he is my own father, and
yours only in being mine! But I do not
despair.'
`You know how inexorable his creditor
is, and that unless the whole sum
is paid at the hour he will again be dragged
to prison. And in his present feeble
state, it would be to die there!'
`As he let him come out on your
pledge to pay the debt of twenty pounds
in sixty days, he may still extend the
time, Martin.'
`He refuses to do so. I went to see
him yesterday. He is immoveable. It
was not real humanity that caused him
to let your father come out, but because
he feared he would die in prison, and he
did not like very well to have such a
thing as that said of him!'
`And he will still dislike it. He will
not take him back, even if you cannot
pay.'
`He will, assuredly. The old man is
now much better, and we know is recovering
his health and strength fast. He
will see the change in him. He will remove
him without hesitation.'
`Wont he take what we can raise?'
`I asked him yesterday if he would
take eighteen pounds, if I could not
raise the twenty. He answered me, that
unless I paid the debt to the utmost
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farthing, your father should go back again
to prison!'
`How can men be so cruel!'
`I accused him of cruelty, saying that
if he were taken back to prison he would
not live long. But he said that he was
so far from being cruel he had on my
simple word and bond to pay the debt,
released him and given him up to us.—
Now if the debt is not paid and he goes
back to prison and dies there, the world
cannot blame me! I have done what
no other man would have done! Such,
Martha, was his stern reply.'
`I see,' said the young wife, sighing,
`I see that we have no hope but in the
favor of God. If we had not given this
creditor in part security every thing we
have got in this world, scarcely twelve
pounds value as it is, we might sell something
to make up the ten shillings. But
we have no right to do this!'
`I am half tempted to do it. I have
just been seriously thinking of the very
way. If we pay him, he will not know
of it; and the furniture, clothes and
things will be ours as soon as the money
is handed to him.'
`It don't seem to me right, Martin,'
said the conscientious young wife.
`It may be wrong, but it will do no
harm.'
`Harm is wrong, Martin,' she said, seriously.
`I will wait till the last minute I can,
and then, if there is no other help I will
pawn the beds and dresser-things, and
get the balance.'
`Don't think of doing evil that good
may come. I would rather my poor father,
dearly as I love him, should be carback
to prison and even die there than
keep him by an unjust act. Trust in
God and do good and verily it shall be
well with thee, is the spirit of the good
book we both profess to make our guide,
Martin; and do not let us depart from it.'
`You are right, Martha; but I am resolved
they shall not take the dear old
man back his cell, if it can be helped.
I will trust in Providence till the last
moment.'
`And that is not trusting in Providence
at all. Say you will not think of
it again,' she said entreatingly and smiling
upon him affectionately, and with a
look of confidence in his integrity which
he could not resist.
`Well, dear wife, I will, then, put my
trust in a good and merciful Providence
to send us that help which I can't see
any way of getting except it do come
from the skies.'
`Now we shall be sure to have it!' she
cried with ingenuous delight. `Now be
assured that we shall be assisted in some
good way, now that you manfully and
piously reject every temptation to do what
is evil.'
`What a true faith you have, Martha.
It seems to me that I can almost see the
whole twenty pounds laying beside me
on the table!'
More than once during this conversation
their eyes had fallen upon the silver
medal which hung upon his breast, but
only for an instant. Each knew the
thoughts of the other; but neither spoke.
`Hist! I hear voices at the door!' she
cried, placing her hand upon her lip as
if listening to hear them repeated.
Suddenly a sharp knock upon the
door startled them both, and Martin
sprung to his feet.
`Ho, wherryman, ho!' cried a man
outside, at the same time endeavoring to
get the door open which was latched
within. The voice, though earnest, was
low, as if the person did not wish to be
overheard.
`It is some one who wants a boat,'
said Martin, going to the door to unlatch
it.
`I hope not, this dark and stormy
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night!' cried Martha, with wifely alarm,
as she heard the storm drive loudly past
the door as Martin opened it.
`It will be one fare, and every shilling
helps, Martha,' he said, in reply, as he
turned to admit the stranger, who was a
tall man, wrapped to the eyes in a cloak,
and wearing a hat slouched so closely
over his eyes that Martin could not discern
a feature.
`Are you a boatman?' demanded the
stranger in a hurried, yet authoritative
tone, which with the air and carriage of
the individual convinced the humble
boatman that he was a man of rank.
`Yes, sir.'
`Get your oars at once and take me
off!'
`In what direction, sir?' asked Martin,
putting on his cap and coat and eveloping
his hands in his mittens.
`It is not a long pull. You shall know
when I get into your boat.'
`Will you step in, sir. My husband
will be ready in a moment,' said Martha,
with a pleasant manner.
`Thank you,' answered the stranger,
`I am in some haste. Your room looks
comfortable enough, compared with the
out-doors, to invite any one. Are you
ready?'
Martin finished tying his muffler, took
down his oars from their beckets above
the door, and then answered,
`Yes, sir, as soon as I light my lantern.
'
`I have a lantern here,' he answered,
turning to a man whom Martin did not
before discover in the darkness without.
`Paul, open the slide.'
`Ah, Paul, how do you do to-night?'
said Martin, recognising an acquaintance
in the man, whose features, though almost
hid under a huge collar and handkerchief,
the name enabled him to recognise.
`Do not stop to talk,' cried the gen
tleman, quickly. `Lead on to your
boat. Be active, and I will reward you.'
`Good bye, Martin; I will be back
in an hour or two I dare say. This may
be a part of your Providence, so don't
look sad.'
`It is so wild on the water!' she said.
But he did not hear her. Closing the
door after him, he was already on his
way to the stairs by the river side, where
his boat was secured.
The night was pitchy dark. A sharp,
cold rain, as fine as mist, filled the air,
and drifted swiftly past upon the whistling
winds. The stones of the pier were
slippery, and with the strength of the
storm, it was difficult to keep the footing.
The stairs were but a minute's
walk from the door of Martin's abode.—
The man Paul went ahead with the lantern—
Martin followed him closely with
the oars upon his shoulder, and the tall
stranger came on a step or two behind
them.'
`It will be a wild night upon the river,
sir,' said Martin, as he stopped at the
top of the stairs and laid down his oars,
while he descended to unlock his boat
from the ring.
`Yes, but I am told you are are a
skilful boatman, and I trust to your
courage and tact.'
`I will do my best, sir; but I would
rather that the wind blew less. The
waves run high, by the dashing and the
noise!'
`Yes,' said Paul, `it is an ugly time
to be in a boat! I am glad I am not
going off in her.'
`And are you not going?' asked Martin.
`No. I am to wait here till he returns!
' answered Paul, as he stooped to
hold the light for Martin to unlock the
boat, which was about seven steps lower
than the top of the pier.
`Who is he, Paul?'
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`Are you ready, boatman?' demanded
the gentleman, descending the stairs, so
that the question remained unanswered.
`All ready, sir!' responded Martin,
springing into the light wherry, which
the waves as they dashed against the
stairs, tossed madly about, so that it was
with difficulty he could steady her.
With some peril, the stranger at length
placed himself in the stern of the boat,
and Martin, letting go with his hook
from the pier, took his oars and began
to pull out into the dark river. Paul
stood upon the stairs with his lantern,
watching their departure; but in three
minutes they were out of sight in the
gloom, which his eyes could no longer
penetrate.
`That boat would hardly live if any
other man was its manager, but Martin
Hart,' he said, ascending the steps to the
pier, and wrapping his cape about his
face, to shield it from the storm. `I
wonder what my lord can be doing off
on the river such a night as this. It
must be a matter of life or death. But
this is none of my business. I am well
paid for what I have done, and I dare
say Martin will be. I think I will just
drop in and have a little gossip with
Mistress Martha for a quarter of an hour
or so! It is rather uncomfortable waiting
here! The mist is fairly frozen,
and pricks like needles. His Lordship
wont be ashore, he said, under half an
hour!'
With this resolution the man proceeded
towards the door of Martin's house,
and rapped for admittance.
`Who is it?' demanded Martha, in a
firm voice from within.
`It is me, Paul!'
`Paul Layton?'
`Yes, Mistress Martha!'
The door opened, and the man was
admitted, though not till he had permitted
Martha to see his features, that
she might be sure she was not deceived
by any rogue, who, taking advantage of
Martin's absence, might wish to rob.
`It is a hard storm, mistress,' said
the man, shaking himself from the rain
at the door, and then advancing into the
room.
`Yes it is, Master Paul, and I am sorry
that Martin has had to go out into it to-night.
But a licensed boatman can
never refuse. Rain or shine he must
ply his oars at call!'
`That is true,' answered Paul, who
upon opening his outer coat, and turning
the collar back, and doffing his cap,
showed himself to be a stout, good-looking
man of thirty, in a handsome livery
of blue and white. He had jet black
hair and brows, and a very white, even
set of teeth. He was of good height and
figure, and his air was frank and bold.
`That is a true word, Mistress, and
therefore, I would not care to be a boatman.
Mine is an easier life, though it
does sometimes bring me abroad at such
a time as this. I would not have gone
on the water in that boat for fifty guineas!
'
`Is it so dangerous, then?'
`I would'nt alarm you, Mistress,' he
answered, taking a seat by the fire, `but
I would rather be ashore to-night as
simple Paul Layton, the lacquey, than in
the boat as my lord.'
`And it was his lordship then?' exclaimed
Martha, with surprise. `Dear
me! and I asked him so familiarly to
walk into this poor place and sit down!
But I hope Martin will be careful. He
is very expert with a boat!'
`That is his reputation the river up
and down. When my lord came to me
and asked me if I knew a safe and skilful
boatman, who would venture out upon
the river, I named Martin at once, though
we had to pass half a score of wherry
stands to get here. But I knew his
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Lordship would be safe with Martin at
the oars!
`You were very kind to remember
him, Master Paul; but I would rather
he sat now where you sit, than he should
be upon the dark waters to-night. But
God will preseve him. Was he to go
far?'
`That I can't say, mistress Martin.—
My lord did not make a confidant of
me. I was in the hall just at dark chatting
with the footman, when my lord
rung for me. I was surprised, I assure
you, for I supposed he was at the palace,
where I knew he had gone an hour before.
I hastened to him and found him
in the library. He had on his cloak,
but his hat lay upon the table. He
seemed to looked as if something uncommon
was upon his mind; for generally,
mistress Martin, my lord is always
cool and quiet. As soon as I came in,
he said to me quickly—
`Paul, do you know a skillful boatman
near at hand who will take me safely
upon the river to-night?'
`To-night, my lord!' I exclaimed; for
I knew it was beginning to storm tremendously,
and while I was speaking
the wind made the casement rattle; for
the mansion where my lord lives has
been built this three hundred years and
is not in the best condition; but he
likes to reside in it when he is in town
because his ancestors always did.'
`Yes, to-night,' he answered me sharply;
to-night and now!' I never knew
him so peremptory.
`I know a man, my lord,' said I, seeing
that he was so earnest, `who has
the name of being the best boatman on
the Thames. He got the medal in the
last year's regatta.'
`Put on your weather-coat, take a
lantern and conduct me along the shore
to his boat,' said he at once.
I lost no time in making myself ready
and in three minutes I was prepared to
attend his lordship. On going out and
not seeing the carriage, I was about to
ask him if I should call it or a cab,
when he said impatiently, `Go on! I
proceed on foot. It is not far I trust.'
`No, my lord,' said I. `Not more
than seven minutes walk. But your
lordship will not go on foot?' I added.
`Not a word!' said he. `Open your
lantern and lead the way.'
I said no more, and as the house
where his lordship lives is within one
square of fronting on the river, we had
only to come down the Foley Street and
so take our way along the pier row by
the shore until we reached here! What
his lordship has gone off in the boat for I
don't know any more than you do, mistress
Martha. I forgot to say he promised
me an extra guinea for bringing
me out at such a time!'
`I have no doubt then,' said Martha,
impuvelsily, `he will give something
more than the fare to Martin.'
`Be assured of that. His lordship
pays freely. He always loves to give
poor men that serve him more than they
ask. It is his way.'
`And a very good way it is,' answered
Martha, as she placed upon the dresser
the last dish which had been used at the
supper table, which she neatly wiped
down and set against the wall. She
then took her knitting from a basket and
drawing a low chair near the fire-place
began to count, by fire-light, the stitches
upon the needles and then proceeded to
ply them with nimble and industrious
fingers. Paul was seated opposite to
her drying his shoes with his legs stretched
out to the fire. The room was cheerful
with the flickering blaze reflected
from the bright pewter dishes upon the
dresser and the small panes of glass in
the only window in front. There had
been two other windows but they were
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both nailed up on account of the glass-tax,
which would make merchandize of
the free light of Heaven. The sense of
comfort in the room was increased by
the sound of the gale heard beating
without. At one moment it would howl
and shrilly whistle about the walls and
seem almost to lift the roof. Then
again the large driving rain would dash
and rattle upon the door and window,
and ever and anon the whole house
would be shaken as if by an earthquake.
The wind and waves could be heard too
mingling their roar upon the river, the
blast shrieking like spirits of the storm
through the cordage of the numerous
craft that lay at the wharves or were
moored in the stream.
`Hark! what was that!' cried both,
simultaneously, after they had been
sometime silent and thoughtful.
It was a fearful crashing that rose
above the increasing noise of the tempest,
and with it loud cries reached their
ears. Paul rose and sprung to the door.
He threw it open and gazed out! But
all was darkness as impenetrable as was
ever the darkness of Egypt. Martha
with fluttering heart stood out by his side.
They could see nothing! The sounds
had ceased save only the roar and wail
of the storm.
`It must have been a vessel broke from
its moorings and dashed against another,'
he said in a fearful tone.
`And all perished!' exclaimed Martha,
with alarm.
`Perhaps not. We should have heard
the cries longer and louder.'
`Oh, what will become of Martin.
He will assuredly be lost,' she cried,
wringing her hands.
`If any boat can live on the river his
will, be assured, Mistress Martha. Do
not be alarmed.'
`I cannot feel otherwise. There is
another accident. See, the lights quick
ly moving to and fro. Hear the shouts.'
`It is two vessels driving against each
other for I can hear them call to each
other to fend off. What an awful time.
There is a fearful crashing again! I
wish, in my soul, Martin and my lord
were both safely here!'
`Oh, I fear I shall never see my husband
again!'
`What is it, Martha, dear? What is
this great noise?' cried an old man of
seventy, of dignified appearance, a head
white as snow, and a countenance care-worn
but singularly benevolent. He
was half-dressed in an old surtout which
he had thrown on as he came from the
sleeping-room on the left, alarmed and
awakened by the combined sounds of the
crashing vessels, the outcries and the
wild uproar of the storm.
`It is a fearful tempest, dear father,
that has arisen since you went to bed,
and vessels are driving against one
another in the river! But do not get
up!'
`Who is this?' he asked fixing his
eyes upon the spruce body servant of the
noble.
`It is master Paul Layton!' she answered.
`Where is Martin? I don't see him
here!'
`He is gone upon the river, father!'
`Then he is lost,' answered the old
man with startling emphasis.
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CHAPTER II. THE BUCCANIER'S CRAFT.
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The boat in which Martin had set off
from the pier to encounter the dangers
of the wind and waters, was a small
wherry, about eighteen feet in length,
and sharp both at the bows and stern.
It contained three seats, one for himself
in the centre, the others being at
each end for the passengers, of which
the boat could carry four. It was a light
fragile skiff, and admirably adapted for
the purposes to which it was put, viz.
conveying passengers, upon the river
from shore to shore, or to and from vessels
anchored in the stream.
Martin had not rowed many yards
from the pier before he found that he had
entered upon a perilous task. The waves
dashed the little boat so wildly about
that he could scarcely get any hold upon
the water with his oars. Every moment
or two the spray would fly over them
drenching them to the skin. Still he
rowed onward in a direct line as well as
he could for the darkness; for the person
who had employed him, and who sat
silently in the stern, had commanded
him as he launched from the pier to lay
his course for the opposite shore. Every
pull of the bending oars was attended
with imminent danger. There lay in
their way numerous small vessels, whose
hawsers were run against in the darkness,
and twice nearly overturned the
boat.
`This is a perilous time to be on this
river, sir,' said Martin, as they came sud
denly against a coal-lugger that lay moored
in their course, and which they struck
with great violence.
`Yes, but unless you think it is impossible
to proceed, keep on,' answered
the gentleman calmly, as if the dangers
to which he had exposed the boatman
were not also shared by himself. `Are
we in the middle of the river, yet?'
`Yes, sir, I should think so,' answered
Martin, scarcely able to speak for the
rain and sleet that beat into his face; for
in rowing he could not protect himself
from its violence.
`Then pull directly for the smuggler's
schooner which has been two or three
days laying off here. Do you know where
she lays?'
`It may be hard to find her to-night,
sir, but I know her position. Let me
see! Those two lights astern are in the
window of the Kings' tavern! I know
them well, and excellent beacons they
are to us boatmen in the night. The
possition of the black schooner, sir,
would be farther down so as to bring
those two lights into one. For I noticed
that she lay in range of the frigate which
bears so from the tavern.'
`Then try and find the frigate; and as
the schooner lays under the frigate's
guns, you will then fall aboard of her
easily. Pull heartily, my brave fellow,
and you shall have two guineas when
you get back.'
Two guineas! The promise made his
heart leap, and how his sinewy arms
made his little bark leap too! He thought
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of Martha's joy, now that the twenty
pounds could be more than made up, and
her father be permitted to remain with
them. He thought, too, of her faith, and
words of trust and confidence in Providence,
and tears of shame and gratitude
come into his eyes. In his heart of hearts
he blessed Martha for her teachings. He
resolved never more to mistrust the morrow.
In a few moments his passenger, who
was keenly on the watch for the frigate
discovered its dark form painted upon
the darkness close to them with scarcely
visible outline. Yet he could see that
it was a large vessel. Martin also beheld
it, and rowed round it his little boat, wildly
tossed upon the waves, and every moment
in danger of being swamped. Having
passed close under the frigate's stern,
from one of the windows of which a light
shone out brightly upon the water, they
beheld also the schooner not fifty yards
distant, her tall slender spars just perceptible
through the gloom to their vigilant
eyes, now more accustomed to the
darkness. As they drew near it they
discovered a lantern on her quarter-deck
which had before been concealed by
some intervening object. This object
they discovered, when within twenty feet,
to be a sentry, who, catching the sound
of their oars, challenged them.
`Boat ahoy! keep off or I will fire into
you!'
`I would see the lieutenant in command,
' said the gentleman in the boat
speaking in a tone of authority.
At the same instant Martin after, by
his order, pulling close aboard, shipped
his oars, and sprang forward to prevent
his boat from striking heavily against
the schooner. He grasped a stay within
his reach, for the main-chains of the
schooners were not two feet from the
water, and quickly secured his painter
to it, while he kept the skiff from stav
ing. The sentry in the meanwhile had
come to the side with his lanthorn, the
light of which he cast full upon the boat
and those in it; when seeing there were
only two men, he ordered them on
board.
`I cannot leave my boat,' answered
Martin, who with difficulty kept it clear
of the side of the vessel, and whose presence
in it was therefore necessary for its
preservation; for the waves knocked it
about like a feather.
`I don't hear you,' answered the sentry,
shouting back. `Speak louder. Are
you coming on board?'
`I am,' answered the stranger, going
forward past Martin and leaping into the
main chains.
`Shall I wait, sir?' asked the boatman,
by no means relishing being on
board, or even so near a vessel which
had been a few days before seized in the
river for piracy and smuggling, and was
now with her crew all on board as prisoners,
awaiting their fate. He was also
anxious to return to Martha, whom he
knew would feel constantly anxious about
him, accustomed as she was to his frequent
and long absences from home in
his boat.
`You need not wait, my brave fellow,'
he said. `Take these! I can go ashore
in one of the schooner's boats.'
As he spoke, he placed in Martin's
hand two guineas. The poor young man
was almost overwhelmed with joy.—
These two guineas lifted at once from
his heart and mind the heaviest load
they had ever borne. He saw now liberty
to his wife's father and happiness and
peace once more a dweller by their
hearth-stone.
`Thank you, sir. God bless you, sir,'
he cried with emotion. `If you would
rather I should wait for you, I will gladly,
sir. Perhaps the crew of the vessel
may not be able to find the pier in the
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[figure description] Page 014.[end figure description]
dark, and I shall be sure to land you
right, if the storm don't blow worse than
it has.'
`It can hardly do that, I should say,'
answered the nobleman. `If you will
remain, do so, for I think I shall be
safer with you than in a heavier boat.'
`Thank you, sir,' answered the grateful
Martin, who felt that he would do
any thing to serve him; for he looked
upon him as the deliverer of his wife's
father from prison by his rich donation,
and the author of all the joy that was
now to be theirs.
`Come aboard, boatman, and drop
your boat astern by the line and let her
swing,' said a man coming to the side
and casting to him a small line, which
he caught and made fast to the ring of
his wherry in the bows. He then leaped
on board of the schooner and let his
skiff fall astern till she swung clear.—
Here by the rays of the lantern which
had lighted all these proceedings, he saw
her dancing as lightly as a cockle shell
upon the wild waves.
`Have you spoken to the lieutenant in
charge?' asked the nobleman in that tone
of command and self-possession which
the soldier felt could only belong to one
accustomed to authority. He, therefore,
very respectfully replied,
`I have sent his man below into the
cabin, sir, to inform him that you wish
to see him. Here is the man returned.'
`The lieutenant says that I must show
them down, if there are but two and their
business is urgent,' answered the valet.
`It is too stormy for him to come on
deck, he says; and he wonders what
should send any man in his senses aboard
at this time.'
`My business is urgent. I alone wish
to see him, soldier,' said the nobleman,
all the while keeping his features strictly
concealed; a sort of masking which the
piercing storm rendered quite necessary,
but which was evidently studied.
`This way, sir,' said the valet, who was
evidently anxious to get under shelter.
And he hastily led the way to the companion-doors
which he threw open and
held back till the stranger descended.—
He then closed them to shut out the
rain, and entering the cabin, announced
the visitor. The lieutenant, who was
placed temporarily in charge of the vessel,
was laying at his length upon a settee
in a handsome cabin, reading a book.
Upon hearing his valet announce the person
who had come off to see him, he
without rising glanced impatiently towards
him and said, without scarcely
looking at him,
`Well, sir, you must have been confoundedly
anxious to see me to put off in
such a storm. None but a bum-baliff or
a poor devil to borrow a guinea would
have taken the river to-night. Whom
have I the honor of addressing? You
seem to keep covered and muffled here
as if it stormed in the cabin!' and the
officer, who was a hard featured seaman
and blessed with not the most amiable
physiognomy that ever was, got up from
the lounge and stood upon his feet, facing
and eyeing him sharply. He had been
reading the Arabian Knights when his
valet came down with the message, and
as he was in the very crisis of the `Open
sesame' of the Forty Thieves, he was
not a little angry at being interrupted;
and as he could not conceive that any
decent person would be abroad in such
a night, he took it for granted that the
visitor was some fellow whom he might
treat as petulantly as he felt
But as the stranger stepped into the
cabin and displayed a figure, even the
absence of the features, tall and commanding,
and an air that of a gentleman,
he began to eye him closely and with
misgiving; for he began to mistrust that
-- 015 --
[figure description] Page 015.[end figure description]
he had been speaking thus snappishly to
a superior officer. At any rate he perceived
plainly, without seeing his face,
that he was certainly a person of consideration.
`Dismiss your valet, and I will converse
with you freely,' answered the
stranger in a tone of dignified self-command.
The officer, with his manner much
changed, said to the man,
`Leave the cabin. Be seated, sir!'
`Are we where we can be unheard?'
asked the gentleman, looking around.
`Yes, sir,' responded the lieutenant,
all the while trying to penetrate the folds
of the cloak, which concealed the visiter's
face.
`Then I will make known to you who
I am,' answered the stranger, `and
the purpose of my visit.'
As he spoke he dropped the cloak
from his face, when the lieutenant, with
a look of surprise and profound respect,
recognised the features of Lord Percival,
one of the cabinet of the Crown.
`Pardon me, my lord, but I was not
aware that I had such a distinguished
visiter.' said the lieutenant, bowing with
respect and at the same time coloring
with confusion. `I did not expect to see
any body aboard in such a tempest.'
`No apologies are necessary, lieutenant.
I have come on board on business
connected with the prisoner you have
charge of.'
`The Captain Bonfield, my lord!'
`Yes. I wish to have an interview
with him, and one strictly private.—
Where is he confined?'
`In the ward-room, with his two officers.
'
`Will you have him brought here?'
`At once, your lordship,' answered
the officer promptly; and taking a light,
he passed out of the cabin by a door forward,
and came to a part of the deck
where three men in chains were confined.
Near them stood a sentinel with
a cutlass. Two of the men were lying
down asleep upon a mattrass; but the
other, a man of short stature and herculean
breadth of shoulders, was pacing
up and down the narrow space between
them and the after hatchway. He was
about forty years of age, with a dark
countenance and piercing grey eyes.—
The expression of his face was pleasing,
and yet remarkably resolute. He was
dressed in a seaman's pilot-coat, closely
buttoned to his neck. His wrists were
ironed, and a heavy ball of iron was
chained to his ankle.
As the officer approached him with
the light, he bent his keen glance inquiringly
upon him.
`Captain Bonfield, a gentleman desires
to have some conversation with you
in the cabin. Follow me!'
`I am your prisoner and must obey,'
answered the outlaw; `but I would
thank you to send one of your middies
to carry my iron ball after me.'
`The hangman will soon relieve you
of it, my man!' answered the lieutenant.
`Are you coming, or shall I call
a marine to help you?'
`I will spare you the trouble, sir. If
I were captain again of this vessel, you
would scarcely dare speak to me in this
fashion. But I obey you,' he added,
lifting in his hand the heavy thirty-two
pound ball which was fastened to his leg
by a chain three feet long, and walking
after him. His countenance was stern
and he looked as if he would gladly have
swung the heavy iron at the head of his
keeper. But prudence dictated forbearance.
He was powerless and heavily
ironed as well as guarded; and the
twenty-one men who had been captured
in the vessel with him were, like himself,
in chains forward; so that an attempt
to recover his schooner would have
been madness.
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The lieutenant re-entered the cabin
and led the pirate before the noblema
who, after for a moment closely observing
his countenance, said,
`You are Captain Bonfield!'
`I am!' responded the buccaneer firmly
and haughtily.
`I am the Earl Percival. I am come
on board to have a few moments' conversation
with you.'
Bonfield bowed and remained steadily
gazing with curiosity and deep interest
upon the celebrated nobleman whose influence
in the kingdom was second to
that of no other man.
`I will now retire,' said the lieutenant.
`He is so heavily chained, my
lord, that you need not apprehend any
mischief from him. But you had best
have a pistol, as he is a desperate fellow!
'
With these words the officer placed a
loaded pistol in the hands of the noblebleman,
who put it aside, saying, with a
smile,
`I do not fear Captain Bonfield.—
There is no fear of our quarreling.'
The officer then, wrapping himself in
his storm coat, went on deck and closed
the cabin doors behind him, wondering
much what important business with the
pirate chief could have brought the first
nobleman of England to an interview
with him in such a night, and under circumstances
so mysterious.
`Now, Captain Bonfield, I wish to
hold with you a few words of private
conversation. I wish you to speak freely,
as I shall, for it may be for your interest.
'
`I will hear, my lord, what you have
to say,' said the prisoner quietly.
The nobleman let his eyes rest for a
few seconds upon the dark, intelligent,
bold countenance of the pirate captain,
as if to decide, from a close observation
of his character, in what way he should
open the matter for which he had sought
this interview.
`If you will freely and frankly respond
to my questions and unfold all the truth,
I pledge to you my word that you shall
be pardoned for the past, that is, if you
are willing to serve me afterwards.'
`I am ready to listen to what your
lordship has to propose,' answered Bonfield
in the same quiet but respectful
manner, which had marked his bearing
since he entered. He looked indeed
like a man of the most finished self-possession,
who never betrayed his feelings
by his features, or voice, or speech, but
with the same equanimity could receive
the intelligence of his execution or instant
pardon and release. He had doubtless
learned philosophy in a school of
danger and of reverses, and seen too
many exciting events to be easily moved
by anything. Thus the idea of pardon
did not cause him to change countenance
or move a muscle, though to have freed
himself and escaped the ignominious
death that he knew was before him, he
would have sacrificed his life, if possible,
a hundred times.
`You seem to heed little the suggestion
of pardon for your crimes, Captain
Bonfield,' answered the nobleman, seeing
with surprise his seeming, and only
seeming indifference.
`It may cost me more, my lord, than
I would be willing to pay,' he answered
coldly; `but I can judge better when I
hear what you have to say to me! If you
will permit me, I will sit. My chains
are not feathers, he added, as he took a
chair opposite the nobieman, who, himself
immediately stood up. Bonfield
smiled with a look of derision at this
sensitiveness in his lordship's refusal to
sit at the same time with him.
`Captain,' said lord Percival after a
moments thoughtful reflection, `I have
come to see you upon a very delicate
-- 017 --
[figure description] Page 017.[end figure description]
subject. Let me again repeat that your
crimes shall be forgotten, yourself, men
and vessel released, and a large reward
be paid to you, if you relate the truth
and enter fully into my views and plans.'
`I have nothing to prevent me, my
lord! your proposals are generous! I
will serve you if I can! It is for you
to tell me what your wishes are.'
`You shall hear; but I must begin
by desiring you to go back in memory,
to a period twenty years since! I wish
to recall to your mind a certain night in
October; 181— when you were in command
of a small smuggling schooner called
the `Dart.'
`How did you know that, my lord?'
cried Bonfield almost starting from his
chair, his chains rattling with his movement
of surprise.
`It is not important now to explain;
I wish you to recall the night in question
when, while anchored in the Thames,
you received in charge an infant with
the command to leave the kingdom with
it, for which service you were enriched!
Do you remember such a circumstance
Captain Bonfield?' added the Earl, fixing
his eyes upon the face of the bucanier,
whose countenance betrayed the
most extraordinary emotion.
`How have you learned these things,
my lord?' he exclaimed with a flushed
cheek.
`I have learned them only accidentally.
I am now convinced that it is true.
Your countenance betrays the truth.—
Will you be frank with me and without
reserve or concealment tell me what you
remember about this affair and also what
you did with the infant, and further I
wish to learn if you know who were the
parents of that child. If you will reveal
all you know about the matter you will
receive a reward far beyond your expectations,
besides pardon and freedom.'
`I don't know, my lord,' answered
Bonfield, after a moment's silence, as if
deciding how he should act, `in what
manner you have come to the knowledge
of an affair that I supposed was
known only to myself and one or two
others, parties concerned. But I see no
reason why I should keep a secret that
seems no longer to be such. It is not
for my interest to be silent now, and in
consideration of your promises to me, I
am willing to reveal to you all that you
wish to know!'
`I am gratified at this readiness on
your part, Captain Bonfield, to be open
and communicative. Now please to give
me the circomstances as they occurred.
It is important that I should know all
the facts.'
`Your lordship spoke of my having
been a smuggler; under what name
did I smuggle in that day?'
`Under your own name, that of Vance'—
was the reply. `You see I am in possession
of enough to lead you to make
known to me, without reserve, whatever
remains!'
`I will do so, my lord!' answered
Bonfield. `But I have only your lordship's
word that I shall be pardoned and
set at liberty for what I am about to
communicate. I should be better satisfied
to see it in writing. Words are but
wind! Black and white are always alive
to talk.'
`I wIll write my promise to you, then
if you desire it,' returned the nobleman,
without evincing any displeasure at this
business mode of procedure on the part
of the bucanier.
`Here we have pen and ink, my lord,
and paper also,' said Bonfieid pushing
the writing materials towards him.
The British Earl then took his pen
and dipping it in the stand-dish said to
him,
`I am ready to write! word it your
own way, Captain, only be brief, for I
-- 018 --
[figure description] Page 018.[end figure description]
have but a little while to remain with
you.'
`You may then write down as follows
giving the date:
`I, Edward de Lisle, Earl of Percival,
in consideration that Captain Bonfield
makes to me, a full, clear and truthful
statement of an affair in which he was
concerned, that occured on the night of
October the — in 181—, do hereby promise
him his pardon, liberty, and the restoration
of his vessel and crew, provided
that also for one month afterward he
engages in his service and keeps secret
the subject of this agreement.'
The Earl wrote word for word as
he dictated it, until he came to the
expression `one month' when he stopped,
and said,
`Captain Bonfield, this period of service
cannot be limited, until I know
something further. But we will say
one year!'
`Then be it one year, my lord! But
what shall be the pay to me and my
men?'
`One thousand pounds a month, during
the time!'
`That will do! But I have not said
what shall be my pay for making my
statement to you.'
`It shall be five hundred pounds, provided
that the information shall prove
such as I anticipate!'
`Well, that I will leave to your lordship.
You will please finish and sign
it!'
This the Earl did without any hesitation,
and placed it in his hands. The
bucanier carefully read it over, and then
folding it up, drew from his bosom a
silver tobacco box, and placed it in it!
`That is a beautiful box, Captain Bonfield,
' said the Earl, who thought he recognised
it. `May I have the favor of
looking at it!'
`Certainly, my lord!'
`Ah, this has been a gift!' he exclaimed,
looking at the escutcheon upon it,
with a glow of surprise and pleasure.
`Yes, my lord.'
`And from the party from whom you
received the infant?'
`Yes, my lord.'
`I supposed so. This box is further
evidence of the kind I want.'
`I should be glad to know how your
lordship got wind of this affair!' said
the Captain, putting the box back as well
as he could for the chains on his wrists,
into a pocket within the breast of his
coat.'
`That you shall learn after you have
given me your account of the whole of
the circumstances so far as you were
concerned, Captain,' answered the Earl.
`Then I will at once begin my story,
my lord,' said Bonfield, seating himself
again; `and it shall be a true one. For
I have no motive now in keeping anything
back.'
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CHAPTER III. THE DESPATCHES. THE SMUGGLER AND THE ADMIRALS.
[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]
The bucanier, after glancing around
the cabin, and satisfying himself that
they were alone, the nobleman also making
the same inspection, thus began his
recital.
`You need not, I see, be told, my
lord, that when I was a young man, I
was a smuggler. How I came to be so,
you will probably care little to hear;
but I will say that it was not my own
choice. I was very successful in my
trips to France and Holland, and made
money rapidly. I also got a name of
some celebrity, as I was never taken
though closely watched on land by the
coast-guard, and often hotly pursued at
sea. But I had a fast-sailing vessel, and
I had friends ashore, who always gave
me warning and helped me to land my
goods. Perhaps, my lord, you will re
collect when I escaped from a brig and
schooner of war, both of which twice got
within ball range of me!'
`I do. It made some noise at the
time, and a large reward was then offered
for your capture! Was it not so?'
`Yes, my lord. Eight hundred pounds
if I was taken at sea with my vessel, and
three hundred if I were captured on
land. But I did not the less diligently
pursue my vocation. I took pride in it,
and exulted in being able to defeat the
enemies of free-trade. I took pride in
the speed of my vessel, the Dart, in the
boldness and skill of my men, and the
number and success of my trips. I was
a smuggler and nothing else. But I
had been brought up to the business from
a boy. My first recollections are with
the deck of the smuggler, and a cavern
upon the coast where they concealed
their goods. So far as I know, I was
born on board a smuggler.'
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[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]
`I only know that I found myself one
as a boy, and have been one ever since.
If ever a man thoroughly served his trade
I did, my lord, for I was serving it all
my life!'
`You served your trade under—
if I mistake not!'
`Your lordship is well informed!—
Yes, he was my master, and the only
father I ever knew; though all the crew
used to tell me that I was not his child.
But he treated me as well as if I had
been, and I shall always think well of
him, though he was a man that would
not hesitate to use the knife where other
men would be content with the fist.—
With such a teacher I was soon perfect.
By the time I was twenty, I was a Captain
myself; and I soon began to take
as much pride, my lord, in my occupation
as if it had had the King's license.
I always in bravado carried a flag on
which was emblazoned the `broad-arrow.
' But I wont detain your lordship
with reminiscences in which I now even
take no little pleasure.
`About three weeks after my escape
from the two vessels of war, hostilities
commenced with France. The intercourse
between the two nations soon
ceased, and so vigilantly did the French
fleets watch the ports of England that
scarcely a vessel could get to sea. But
I continued to run under the French
flag, and landed almost as many goods on
the coast as before the war.
`At length one day it became necessary
to send some important intelligence
to the English fleet off the coast of Holland.
Not an English vessel could get
out to carry the news; one having been
captured by the French in the attempt,
and two others compelled to return to
port, and restore the sealed packages to
the Admiralty.
`I was on shore in a small inn which
I used to stop at, at such times, in the
suburbs of Dover, when about two hours
before dark, some men came in, and
seating themselves, called for beer; and
while they were drinking it, I overheard
them speaking about the failure of the
vessels to get out of port.
`What vessels and where bound?' I
asked, for being dressed as a gentleman's
servant with powdered wig, I was thoroughly
disguised.
`They then informed me of the attempts
of the Admiralty to send a fast
sailing vessel, but without success, with
some important despatches to the fleet.
They said a thousand guineas was offered
to any skipper that would undertake
it.
`An idea instantly flashed upon my
mind. I was expecting my schooner in
that very night, with a valuable cargo
of lace goods, and distilled spirits; and
I had been remaining behind secretly,
to effect the sale of them to my buyers,
and partly to keep a sharp look out upon
the coast guard, upon whose movements
I was acting as a spy in person; for they
had of late got some new place of concealment
on the coast, and I resolved to
find it out. My schooner was in charge
of my mate, a man who had learned his
business under my own-eye.
Upon hearing the intelligence communicated
by these men-of-war's men, I
resolved that I would offer my services
to the Admiralty on condition that the
laws overlooked my past pecadilloes. I
had no sooner come to this decision than
I went up stairs, and, sitting down, wrote
a note which I addressed to the first lord
of the Admiralty, who was then at Dover,
and offering my services as bearer of
despatches.'
'This was exceedingly bold,' said
Earl Percival, looking surprised.
`Yes, bold and impudent enough, too.
But I was not a person to look at trifles,
when I had decided upon my action.'
-- 021 --
[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]
`Do you recollect what you wrote?'
`Yes, my lord. I will repeat the contents
of the note, if you desire it.'
`I should like to hear them. A correspondence
between the famous smuggler
Vance and the Admiralty must possess
interest,' added the nobleman, smiling.
'
`Of that you can judge,' answered
Bonfield. `My note ran thus:
`Roadside Inn, Sea Road.
near Dover.
`My lord,
`I have just learned that you are desirous
of communicating with the fleet
under Admiral Nelson, and are looking
for a fleet sailing vessel. I offer you
mine, and my services at any time after
twelve o'clock to-night. My schooner's
sailing qualities I need not speak of as
they are doubtless well-known to your
lordship, for some of his Majesty's cruisers
have of late tested them. I offer
your lordship my services in good faith,
and will perform my errand with punctuality
and honesty. Though a smuggler
by profession, I am an Englishman at
heart. If your lordship will forget that
I am the former, I will only remember
that I am the latter. I pledge myself to
reach Lord Nelson within eight and forty
hours after I take the despatches on board
if the present wind holds.
I am your lordship's
faithful servant,
Vance.
P. S. I am at the Inn from which
my note is dated. If your lordship should
do me the honor to accept my offer you
will please send me a note under the
Admiralty seal to that effect. I shall
wait here for your lordship's reply. I
would further assure your lordship, that if
you are disposed to take advantage of
this note to attempt my arrest, you will
take your trouble in vain; for I can command
the approach of the house and be
in a place of safety before the Inn could
be even reached. I ought to apologise
to your lordship for such a suspicion;
but though I am a young man, I have
learned the lesson of precaution.'
`And this was your note to the first
Lord of the Admiralty,' exclaimed the
Earl with surprise, and looking upon the
smuggler with feelings of mingled curiosity
and respect. `Your address to him
was as well worded as bold; and did his
lordship pay any attention to it?
`I sealed and sent it by a lad who sailed
with me, who was remarkable for his
intelligence and tact, and who had the
faculty of assuming as many characters
as a stage player. He was one of the
most efficient and useful spies I had, and
was always with me on land or sea.
Dressed neatly as a young man-of-war's
man, he took my note, went with it into
town, and suceeded in getting it sent into
his lordship, who was stopping, with
some others of the Board, a few days in
Dover.
`I will describe what followed, in the
language of the lad Nickerson, or `little
Nick,' as he used to be called by my
men. He said that after giving the note
to a sentry in waiting to be sent in, he
waited at a little distance, so that he
might be at hand if called for, and yet
ready to escape if he saw that danger
was to be apprehended. He soon saw a
footman appear, and look about and
then speak to the soldier who pointed to
him. He saw by their manner that
there was nothing to fear, so he advanced,
and the footman hastened towards
him, calling him to hurry at the same
time.'
`Are you the lad that brought a note
just now?' asked the lacquey.
`Yes,' responded Nick, touching his
hat.
`Then come along with me. His
lordship wants to speak with you.' were
the powdered gentleman's words.
-- 022 --
[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]
“I went in at once after him,' said
Nick to me, `and he led me through two
rooms full of officers and other people
waiting to see the Admirals. I passed
'em all by, and the footman opening a
farther door, pushed me in telling me to
take off my hat. I did so, and found
myself in a large chamber, in the centre
of which was a green cloth table, at
which sat four old gentlemen in bobs,
rear-admirals, if I ever saw one,' observed
Nick, with emphasis. `Upon seeing
me one of them, an old white head in
gold specs, called out to me,
`Come this way, my lad?'
`I went towards him, and made my
best bow.
`Who are you?' he asked, looking at
me as if he meant to make a gimblet hole
in me.
`I am Nick Nickins, your lordship's
honor,' said I.
`You just brought a nate to me, did
you?'
,Yes, your lordship.'
`Do you know the man who gave it to
you, for you don't look like a smuggler
yourself.'
`Not I,' I said. He saw me going by
a tavern down on the Sea Road, and
told me if I was going to town, and
would hand it to the Admiral's court he'd
give me a French crown.
`This is not true,' said the old fellow
at once to me. Then turning to the other
Ads he added, `This Vance is too
wise and acute to trust such a note as
this to chance. No doubt the boy is
one of the crew.'
`That matters not if he is!' answered
one of the others. `It is my opinion
that we accept this smuggler's offer. His
vessel sails like the wind; and besides
we have no vessel that is at all fleet.'
`The others entered into the discussion
and very warmly,' replied Nick, `at
length it was unanimously desided that
I should be employed. The first lord
then turned to Nick and said,
`Where is your Captain?'
`I left him at the inn,' innocently
answered Nick, taken by surprise.
At this reply the Admirals all laughed
and then Nick discovered that he had
betrayed his connection with me. But
he was never frightened.
`You are one of his smugglers, then,'
said the old Admiral.
`I am, my lord,' was Nick's answer.
`And do you think your Captain is
to be trusted to take private despatches
to lord Nelson's fleet.'
`Yes, your lordships. If he says he'll
take them, he'd take them if the devil
was in his path!' responded Nick.
`You don't think be would take them
to the French,' said one of the board.
`No, my lord, my Captain is too much
of an Englishman to do this. Besides,
he is a gentleman and a man of honor
every inch of him.'
`At this speech the lord's laughed and
the first lord, turning to the others, said,
`It is decided then, that we take up
with this conveyance.'
`Yes, yes,' was the unanimous response.
`There is no alternative.'
`Vance, I think, observed the first
lord, `will take a pride in doing this
service faithfully. Shall I write a note
to him desiring him to come and see us
under the seal?'
`Yes but he may not trust to it?' remarked
one of the admirals.
`If your lordships give your promise
in writing that he shall go and come
safe,' said Nick pertly, `he is too much
of a gentleman himself to doubt that
your lordships will fulfil your word.'
`Then you think he will come to see
us?' asked tha first lord of Nick.
`Yes, my lord,' was his confidant reply.
His lordship then pennnd a note to
-- 023 --
[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]
me and sealed it with the official signet and giving it to Nick said to him,
`Now, my lad, hasten with this to
your captain, and tell him we shall be
happy to see him here precisely at seven
o'clock this evening. As it will then be dark he can oome without danger of detection.'
Nick was then shown out of the chamber,
and dismissed at the outer door glad
enough to have escaped so easily, when
at one time he believed that he would
not only be detained as a smuggler, arrested
also, for wearing the naval button
on his natty blue jacket. He said that
he never felt more uneasy in his life than
when under the keen, gimblet eye of the
old lord, and at one period of their discussion
of my proposition he thought it
was all up, and that he would be compelled
to turn informer against me, or
swing for it. As it was, therefore, he
was fortunate in getting off as he did.
`What was the purport of the note
you received from the Admiral, Captain
Bonfield?' asked the Earl Percival.
`I can repeat it. The note I have also
but not with me. It was as follows, dated from the admiralty chambers and
sealed with the court's seal:
`Sir: Your proposition is before the Board. In extraordinary emergencies
it is often necessary to make use of extraordinary
means. The lords of the
Admiralty would be happy to see you
early this evening, and do hereby insure
to you security of person should you
wait upon them. Your offer, I may
say, will be accepted. But it is necessary
to have an interview with you that
you may receive verbal instructions.—
The sentry at the door is instructed to
conduct to me whoever inquires for the
`Admiral Collingwood.' '
`Did you comply with this request?'
asked the Earl taking deep interest in
his narrative of an event so unusual in
the policy of governments.
`I resolved to do so without hesitation—
especially when I heard from Nick a
detailed account of the proceedings.—
Before going I exchanged the costume
of a valet which I wore, for a suit of
plain, respectable citizen's dress. I
passed through the streets of the town
without suspicion and at dark reached
the building where the Admirals held
their sittings. A sentry was before the
door above which hung a lantern that
shone upon the face of all who approached.
`I wish to speak with Admiral Collingwood,
' said I in answer to the soldier's
challenge.
`Then follow me,' was his reply, and
leaving his post he crossed a hall and
opening a door at the opposite side, added,
`go in there sir, and you will find
the Admiral, for I suppose you are the
person he told me to send to him.'
`I entered a small apartment where to
my surpriee, I saw two Admirals at their
dinner, and now over their wine. One
of them I recognized at once as the first
lord, Collingwood. Upon seeing me
enter he fixed a keen glance upon me,
and the other also closely regarded me.
But I saw from their looks that they
were at fault. Evidently they thought I
was quite another person from the smuggler
Vance.
`Who do you wish to see?' demanded
the Admiral in a vexed and disappointed
tone.
`Admiral Collingwood!' I responded.
`I am Vance the smuggler.'
`The devil you are!' exclaimed his
lordship, looking at me with amazement.
`You seem to be a very worthy citizen
in your outside. Under false colors,
hey!'
`I have to hoist them, my lord, I have
so many kind friends on shore who
would like to take me by the shoulder,'
I answered.
-- 024 --
[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]
`Well, you are welcome here, Captain
Vance,' said his lordship very civilly and
in the frank, hearty tone which characterised
that brave seaman; `your person
is safe. I am surprised, however, to
find you such a quiet appearing person.
Sit down, sir, and take a glass of wine.'
`Is it possible!' exclaimed the Earl
Percival.
`Yes, my lord,' answered Bonfield;
the Admiral treated me like a gentleman.
I took the glass of wine standing, refusing
to sit, and drank their healths. When I
had set the glass down upon the board,
his lordship said to me,
`Vance, I like your appearance. The
Old Boy with the hoof isn't half so bad
as he is painted. Your impudent note
was received by us. It surprised us, I
must confess; but after a little reflection
we have concluded to accept your offer
of service. I am willing to trust you. I
am confident, the more I look at you,
that I can do so. I feel assured you will,
in this matter, act like a full blooded
Englishman, and by a faithful discharge
of your mission, atone in some measure
for your past sins against the crown!'
`I shall do all I can to make such
atonement, my lord,' I responded, with a
low bow.
`I see you will, I believe you will!' he
replied in a cordial, unhesitating manner
that fairly made me love him. `Now
hear what you have to do. It is of the
utmost importance that these sealed despatches,
' he said, placing his hand upon
a small packet before him, `should be
placed in the hands of Nelson within
three days. Information of the utmost
importance in relation to a movement of
one of the enemy's fleets, has reached
me, and it is of vital importance that Lord
Nelson should know it, that he may get
under weigh and check-mate the French
Admiral. I have despatched three, one
after the other, of the only fast sailing
vessels at command from the port with
the despatches, but one was captured in
two hours after leaving the harbor, and
the other two could not get out. Here
are the despatches made up again, for
the captain of the vessel captured doubtless
cast his overboard as he had orders
to do, if he was likely to be taken.—
You see that these are in a leaden case.
It is to sink them if you are likely to be
captured.'
`If I take the despatches, my lord,'
said I, `I shall not put them out of my
hands, save into Lord Nelson's.'
`I like that speech,' said the other
Admiral striking hs hand upon the table.
`Where is your schooner?' asked the
first lord.
`She will be on the coast at midnight,'
I answered. `I have a cargo to land,'
I added, smiling, `and shall be ready to
sail again on this expedition for your
lordship at two o'clock!'
`You talk coolly enough, you rogue,
of landing your cargoes of smuggled
goods,' said his lordship, trying to look
stern, yet laughing. `You must, for
this time, let your cargo remain on board.
There is not an hour to lose.'
`Very well, my lord,' I answered. `I
will be ready to sail at twelve o'clock.
My vessel being on the coast has an advantage.
The French will only be
watching the ports. Besides, I can run
under the Frenchman's flag, as I do in
smuggling.'
`Very well. You may run your own
way so you get the despatches to Nelson,
' answered both Admirals at once.
`On condition you take them in safety
and in time, Captain Vance,' said the
first lord, `your past offences shall be
overlooked by the crown; and you shall
have one thousand guineas. And I would
advise you to give up smuggling and take
service in your country's ships.'
`I will think of it, my lord,' I answered.
-- 025 --
[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]
`I hope you will. Here now, Captain
Vance, are the despatches,' said Admiral
Collingwood seriously and impressively,
as he took the package from the
table and laid it in my hand. `In committing
this to you, we place confidence
in you that, to a man of your pride and
ambition, must be infinitely flattering.—
We treat you, sir, as a man of honor.—
We regard you as an Englishman who
would disdain to betray his country to
the enemy.'
`You judge me rightly, my lords,' I
answered with emotion; `for this high
trust elevated me in my own self-respect.
I almost felt like becoming a good citizen
and serving my country in the
navy; but the freedom, the adventures,
the perils and escapes of a smuggling
life had too many charms for me.'
`I took the parcel and placed it in my
bosom. and buttened it up. I then prepared
to leave.
`Stay, Captain Vance,' said his lordship,
filling my glass again; `one more
glass of wine to the success of your enterprize.
Your vessel's reputation as a
fast sailer is too well known to us; and
I have no doubt you will see Nelson in
three days' time.'
`I will return at once and report my
success to your lordships,' I answered.
`If the winds hold good, you will see
me in this room again in a week from
this time.'
`That rings well! But we shall be
in London then! Will you trust your
self there to let us know the result? Besides
you must receive your pay.'
`I have such confidence in the admirals!
' I responded, `that I shall have no
hesitation in walking through London
openly.'
`But you need not do that. We
don't want to be called upon to protect
you, captain,' answered the admiral,
laughing. `We have no desire to be regarded
as your patrons. This affair, from
this moment, must be secret. We look
upon you to hold it so.'
`I will do so, my lord. At least I
shall never speak of it to do mischief.—
Nor will I ever avail myself of your confidence
in me, so far as to appeal to you
should I get into trouble hereafter for
smuggling.'
`After some further instructions,' continued
Bonfield to Lord Percival, `I took
my leave of them and hastened to my
inn in the suburbs. At half-past nine
o'clock I saw the signal light of my vessel
in the offing. Before twelve o'clock
every box, bale, and cask, was landed
and concealed in our hiding places on
the coast; and by twelve o'clock I was
on board and flying before a fresh nor'
west wind towards the coast of Holland.
-- 026 --
CHAPTER IV. THE MYSTERIOUS VISIT.
[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]
`I do not see, Captain Bonfield,' said
the Earl of Percival, `how this narrative
of your being employed by the Admiralty
to take despatches to Lord Nelson
bears upon the subject which I questioned
you about. I mean the infant
which you received. Your account is
interesting, and I have listened to it with
deep interest, but as I have little leisure,
I will now hear you touching the immediate
subject before us.'
`I related the account of my despatches,
my lord,' answered Bonfield,
`in order that you may understand fully
how I came to be selected in this business
concerning the child. It was
through the despatches I got into the notice
of the higher powers.'
`I now see your object, though it had
been better to have been more brief.—
But you may tell me whether you reached
Nelson or not; but I believe you did,
for I think I recollect that he was enabled
to surprise the French fleet under
D'Eclair by means of an extraordinary
express he received from England, informing
him of this admiral's movements.
'
`That express, my lord,' answered
Bonfield, with an air of pride, `was
taken over by the Dart, and in less than
forty-seven hours. I had a famous run.
The wind was as fair as a lover flying to
the arms of his mistress could wish it;
and for the first thirty hours I never
touched tack nor sheet. We went twelve
knots every hour. I was chased by both
English and French cruisers; but I
laughed at them; for, as they could not
overtake me as a smuggler, I had no
idea of letting them catch me aow I was
in the Admiralty's service. I found Nelson's
fleet lying to off the coast, just
where old Admiral Collingwood told me
I should fall in with it. I ran straight for
the English flag-ship under English colors,
and coming to under her lea, got
into my boat and went aboard. I was
dressed as an English revenue officer, and
doubtless they took the Dart for a vessel
of that class, for she had a regular revenue
rake to her masts.
`I asked to see Lord Nelson, and was
sent aft by the officer of the deck, and
passed along frem middy to call-boy, until
I found myself in the state cabin.—
There was little Nel, in his short blue
roundabout and white ducks busy
-- 027 --
[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]
writing letters, There were several officers
round him. He looked up as the lieutenant
who shewed me in said—
`Here is the bearer of despatches.
sir!'
`Well, my man, what have you for
me?' asked the Admiral, extending his
hand for the package which I was taking
from my breast pocket.
`I left Dover, my lord, forty eight
hours since,' I answered, `and bring
you this package from Admiral Collingwood.
It contains important intelligence.
Having placed it in your hands,
my lord, I have fulfilled my mission!'
`In forty eight hours from Dover!' repeated
the Admiral, as he received the
package. `What did you come in?' he
asked, as he took it out of the leaden
box and broke one of the seals.
`A small schooner, my lord,' I answered.
`Of the revenue service! I see, I
see!' he said, glancing at my uniform.
You have beat the wind. Your diligence
shall not be forgotten by me!'
His lordship then opened the package
and took out a letter which he proceeded
to read, his eyes running over the
page with inconceivable rapidity. He
seemed to read by sentences just as
other men read by words. I watched
the expression of his face as he read to
see the effect of the news upon him.
Every eye was also turned upon him.
Suddenly he sprang to his feet. His
face was flushed and his eyes sparkled
with extraordinary brilliancy.
`Set the signal for the whole fleet to
get underweigh!' he cried to his officers.
Other orders were rapidly given, and
among them one for the Captains of
all the ships to come on board of him.
Nelson presented me with one hundred
guineas before I left the cabin, and said
he would take me from the revenue ser
vice to his own ship and see me promoted.
But I respectfully declined.
`And I am surprised you did, Bonfield,
' said lord Percival. `It was then
the point for making your fortune which
you should have seized. If you had accepted
his liberal offer you would not
now be here wearing these chains.'
`That is true, my lord,' answered
Bonfield, with a slight frown; `but no
man is a chooser of his own fate!'
`Every man's fate is in his own hands
in early manhood. He can choose good
or evil, honor or dishonor as he will.'
`It may be so; but I believe in destiny,
my lord,' answered Bonfield, laughing.
`Besides, I preferred to be captain
of a band of smugglers! I was
born and bred a smuggler. It was my
element. I liked its freedom and hair
breadth escapes. The restraints of a
man of war I could never have endured.
So I declined. When I got back to my
own vessel and looked arond me, I saw
the whole fleet, which consisted of five
ships of the line, ten frigates and a score
of sloops, brigs and schooners, already
underweigh and standing off the land.
From each vessel as it approached the
Admiral's a boat put off for the flag-ship;
and in less than an hour the Captains of
all the larger vessels were on board in
council with Nelson. I also made sail
and bore eastward; and before night, although
the fleet was sailing the same
way, I was full two leagues in advance.
reached Dover three days afterwards,
found the Admiral's there, and reported
my success, at the same time giving the
Admiral a letter from lord Nelson. The
thousand guineas were handsomely paid
down to me, and I was suffered to go
away with safety, though Collingwood
tried to prevail upon me to give up smuggling,
promising if I would do so he
would give me command of one of the
revenue cutters in the service.
-- 028 --
[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]
Doubtless he thought I should make a capital
revenue officer on the principle of `take
a rogue to catch a rogue.' Now, my
lord, I will proceed to relate to you
what you desire more particularly to
hear! But you would have naturally
asked how I come to be employed to
take the infant aboard, and so I thought
it best to begin at the beginning. Now
we shall have all plain sailing the rest of
the way.
As he spoke he took the slack of the
heavy chain which united his hand-cuffs
and suspended it upon a brass pin near
him to ease the weight. This act was
not unobserved by Lord Percival who for
a moment felt like calling upon the officer
in charge to remove the irons; for he
had become very deeply interested in
this lawless man, feeling that he possessand
elements of character that under
other circumstances of development
might have made him a distinguished
person. But seeing that Bonfield did
not appear to be greatly incommoded by
his irons, he thought it best to let them
remain for the present. Bonfield seemed
to define his thoughts, for he said
smiling as he glanced at his wrists,
`These bracelets, my lord, are more
showy than ornamental. But I have
worn them before, and don't feel uneasy.
Now about that affair in October twenty
years ago. `Well, you see, my lord,
when I left old Admiral Collingwood the
last words he said to me were,
`My man, we shall not forget your
services in this affair. Keep it secret,
and perhaps we may employ you again.
In the meanwhile lead an honest life,
don't defraud the revenue, and keep
yourself in readiness should you ever be
wanted again.'
`I shall be at the sea-road inn, my
lord,' I answered, `after the first of next
month, but a note left there at any time
will reach me early. It should be ad
dressed to William Bonfield,' I told the
Admiral, for that was the name I then
sometimes went under on shore.
`Well, my lord,' continued Bonfield,
`it ws not more than two weeks after
that, when as I had just landed a cargo
and sent it safely to a bale into the interior,
and was regaling myself in the little
back parlour of the sea-road inn, when
the door opened and my landlady entered
with a letter addressed to William Bonfield.
I at once suspected that it came
from the Admiral, and asked who left it?
She said a man on horseback, who upon
placing it in her hand put spurs to his
horse and galloped away.
After she left the room I broke the
seal and read the note. It was from the
admiral sure enough, and dated at London.
'
`Do you recollect the note?' asked
Lord Percival.
`Every word of it. It runs thus:—
“London,
Sept. 30, 181—
`Well, you rogue, you are wanted
again. You must be in London with
your schooner within five days without
fail. Come up under revenue colors in
the day time until within ten miles of
London, and then keep on after dark
and anchor off a pier one mile and a
half below the Tower. You will know
the place by two large oaks that grow at
the head of the pier and by a red light
which you will see suspended in the
branches of one of the oaks. You will
answer this light by another in your
rigging. Your motions must be secret
and cautious. When you reach the
place, which you must try to do at least
two hours after dark (there will be a
six days' moon), drop your anchor short
and trail up, not furl. Lay there till
you see a boat put off to you. It will
hail you and ask the news from Nelson.
This boat you will let come on board,
when you will give yourself up to the
-- 029 --
[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]
services and interests of those who shall
visit you. You will be well paid, and
all you are desired to do in return is to
be faithful and secret.'
`It was signed only with the letter O.'
`And did you obey the requisition
upon you?' asked Lord Percival.
`Yes. I had nothing particular then
to occupy me, and so I resolved to run
into the Thames and see what was to
be done. I began to feel myself quite
of service to the state, smuggler as I
was, my lord.'
`You had good reason to feel so; for
a more extraordinary use of a smuggler
was never made by any government.'
`I got into the mouth of the Thames
on the morning of the 3d of October,
and with a light breexe sailed up, but
under shortened sail, as I did not care to
reach too near London before dark. I
was disguised as a revenue cutter and
carried the revenue flag. At dark I was
within eight miles of the pier of the two
wo oaks, which I well knew the situation
of, for I had more than once landed
rich goods there which I had rowed up
from the vessel at the mouth of the river.
I knew it well and the region all about
it. It was about a mile below the
Tower.
`It was quite night. The moon was
near the zenith when the sun went down
and cast a good deal of light upon the
river, as under a three-knot breeze I
proceeded up the stream to the place
pointed out.'
`Was this on the very night named in
Admiral Collingwood's note to you?'
asked Lord Percival.
`Yes, my lord, I had timed it exactly,
though I was afterwards told they
would have waited for me until I came,
if it had been every night that week.'
`Then the admiral had great confidence
in you?'
`Yes, my lord, I told him that when
ever he sent for me to serve the crown
again, I would obey the summons. He
knew that he could depend upon me;
and he knew that I was at the inn when
he sent for me; for he had a spy watching
for me. It was just half-past eight
when I came in sight of two oaks, about
a mile above me. I stood on, and soon
saw the red light sparkling in the deep
gloom of their shadows. I answered it
as I had been directed to do, by hoisting
a similar one in my main rigging. In a
little while I came abreast of the little
piet, and trailing up, dropped anchor
with short cable. All was perfectly quiet
on shore, which was not more than seventy
yards distant. The tops of the dark
trees which overhung the spot shone in
the moon-beams, but beneath them the
gloom was impenetrable. I could see
a red light waving gently in it with the
motion of the branch on which it hung
in the wind.
`I had my men all stationed and ready
to move at a moment's warning by slipping
cable, if it should be a treacherous
attempt to capture me!'
`And you had this suspicion, then?'
asked Lord Percival.
`I thought of it, and felt that it
would do no harm to be prepared. So I
had all my men armed and was armed
myself. My guns also were shotted and
ready for use. I knew it was not best
to trust great men too far, especially
those connected with the government.—
Still, I did not really believe that the old
admiral would play me false. And he
did not.
`I had been anchored about three
minutes when I saw the red signal light
taken down and lowered into a boat,
which pulled off from the shore straight
into the stream. I watched the manoeuvres
of it closely with my glass. It contained,
indistinctly visible to me, four
persons, two at the oars, and two dark
figures in the stern.
-- 030 --
[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]
`The boat came ahead of me, passed
across the bows, and then one of them
hailed and asked
`What news from Nelson?'
`I at once knew they were my men,
and responding
“Good news,' invited them to come
alongside.
`The boat at once pulled to the star-board
gangway, and I cast those in it the
man-rope, which was caught by one of
the gentlemen, who immediately stepped
on board.
`This is Captain Vance?' he said in
a cautious, under tone.
`Yes,' I answered; `will you walk
into the cabin?'
He followed me down and I handed
him a chair, at the same time surveying
him closely. He was dressed in a plain
brown surtout, buttoned over his chest,
and wore a sort of hunting cap. He was
tall and well formed, and had a very
aristocratic air. I set him down for a
nobleman at once, as he proved to be.'
`Will you tell me who it proved to
be?' asked Lord Percival, with the most
absorbing interest.
`I will, my lord, for I have begun this
story, for the purpose of unfolding every
thing truly. It was the Marquis of
Ross!'
`Go on; I see your story chimes well
with what I was led to believe. Now,
proceed!'
`After he was seated, seeing I remained
standing, he immediately rose
again, and for a moment seemed to be
at a loss how to address to me what he
had to say. At length he said, with a
smile, though it was a smile which went
no deeper than the muscles of his face,
`I believe, Captain, you are the brave
fellow who took the despatches to Nelson!
'
`I had that honor, sir,' I answered.
`Admiral Collingwood has spoken
highly of you.'
`I respect him greatly, sir,' I answered.
`Through his recommendations, Captain
Vance,' said the Marquis, `you are
about to be entrusted with a commission
of great importance. I have no
doubt you will acquit yourself with credit.
It is, however, a matter of the
strictest secresy, and must be conducted
on your part with the most implicit
obedience to those who employ you!'
`And who are those who employ me?'
I asked. `And what is the nature of
the business I am to be a party to.—
Though a smuggler by profession, I have
certain ideas of honor and conscience.'
`Doubtless you have,' said the gentleman,
smiling. `In the first place I am
one who will employ you. I am the
Marquis of Ross. But there are higher
persons interested in this matter even
than I! Hear from me, Captain Vance,
what is required of you. There is in
the boat a deaf and dumb person—a
woman—who has with her a small child
a few months old. You are to take this
woman and child and convey them to
the island of Bermuda. Upon reaching
that destination, you will land by
night upon the `Black Keys,' near the
fortress that protects the harbour. By
that fortress is a path which leads—leads
to—' Here the Marquis cast his eyes
upon a memorandum, which he held in his
hand, as if to read some minutes, and
then proceeded—`leads by a group of
larch trees to a cottage, situated about
a quarter of a mile from the fortress,
and a short walk from the town. This
cottage, which is very retired, yet commands
a view of the sea, is inhabited by
a man and woman by the name of Oakford.
To these persons you will deliver
this sealed package, and leave with them
the woman and her babe. When you
shall have accomplished this mission, an
order signed by this Oakford upon the
-- 031 --
[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]
King's Treasury in the town for four
thousand pounds sterling shall be paid to
you there. Are you willing to undertake
this duty, in good faith and secrecy,
and receive at the end this large reward?'
`Who is the woman and her babe?'
I asked of the Marquis.
`That is not necessary for you to
know. It is of importance that she
should be sent to Bermuda for the present.
'
`Some State measures, my Lord Marquis?
' I asked.
`You are at liberty to guess, but not
to know,' he responded. Shall I order
them on board!'
`I will undertake it, my Lord Marquis,
' I answered, `for five thousand
pounds, four thousand to be paid me
when it is done, one thousand pounds
down!'
`I agree to this,' answered the Marquis,
without hesitation. You shall
have the money in a Bank of England
note. I have one purposely with me,
for I anticipated some such demand!'
`The Marquis then took out of his
pocket-book a note for that sum, and
placed it in my hands. He then went
on deck, and I followed him. He walked
to the side, and stepping down into
the boat, for it was but a step, my vessel
was so low in the water, and touched
the female on the arm. By a light
which was held by the boy Nick, I saw
that she was a small, delicate-looking
person, with those large speaking eyes
which deaf and dumb people have, and
which cannot deceive one. She was
wrapped in a cloak, and held enveloped
in her arms the infant, though its face
was not visible. The Marquis assisted
her to the deck, and led her at once to
the cabin.
`You have two cabins,' he said, as I
went after him; `so that it wont put you
out at all. The female can have the
after cabin with the child. Now I will
leave them to your charge.'
With this he went up to the young
woman, and taking her hand, pressed it
and touched her forehead. He also made
certain unintelligible gestures with his
fingers, and she replied to them in the
same way, calmly, and as if she felt no
emotion at going on the voyage, or leaving
England in such a manner.
`You need not take any trouble to
try and make her hear, Vance,' said
the Marquis, `for she was born a deaf
mute, and understands only the language
of signs. Treat her kindly, I pray you,
and the infant also. She will be able to
state on her arrival to the man Oakford
how she has been treated, and if you are
rude or harsh to her, it may affect your
reward in its aggregate amount.'
`I answered his Lordship that though
a smuggler, I had no heart to treat a
woman unkindly, especially a mute, and
that I should, now that I had undertaken
the affair, try and make her as happy as
I could.
`At hearing me say this, the Marquis
thanked me, shook me by the hand and
wished me a pleasant voyage, and got
over the side into his boat. He gave
his men orders to put off, and in a few
moments, as I watched his retiring form,
he disappeared from my sight in the
darkness of the silent shores. I soon
after heard a carriage roll rapidly away
along the river road, and the sound of
one or two horsemen galloping along
with it.
`Wondering much at the mystery connected
with all these movements, and resolved
to do my best some time or other
to find out the whole secret, I gave orders
to weigh anchor and make sail on
the vessel. As soon as we were fairly
under canvass I left the deck to my first
officer and went below. I assure you,
my lord, I felt not a little awkwardness
-- 032 --
[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]
in the presence of a young woman, for
she was both young and very interesting
looking, to whom I could not speak a
word. I was at a loss how to communicate
with her. At length I approached
her and smiling pointed to the infant
which she still held, and motioned for
her to uncover its face. She did so, and
I beheld as fine a looking little girl, about
eleven months old, as you would wish to
see. It was fast asleep; but awoke as
the light flashed upon its eyes and looked
up into my face smilingly. The dumb
female, whom I then supposed to be its
mother, pressed it to her bosom with affection
in the act. I wanted to ask its
name, and a thousand other questions,
but there she was dumb and deaf! I
was completely at fault for once in my
life. I, however, put my curiosity under
hatches for a while, and opening the
door of the inner cabin, signified to her
that she was to occupy it. She seemed
to understand me, and bowed and looked
gratified.
`The next morning, my lord, we were
out of the river. In seven days afterwards
I touched at Flores, in the western
islands, for provisions, for I had come
off on short allowance. The eighteenth
day from the mouth of the Thames I
made the Bermudas, which you will say
was a quick passage, my lord'
`It was, indeed; then you did take
the infant to Bermuda?' asked the earl
earnestly.
`Yes, my lord.'
`That is important to have confirmation
of, very. But proceed. I wish
now to hear all you have to tell relating
to the infant and the disposition of it.—
More is involved in this than you, perhaps,
imagine; for it can hardly be that
you really have a guess who that child
was.'
`I think I shall be able to assure you
that I am not far out of the way in my
suspicions, my lord,' answered Bonfield
with a significant smile. `But you shall
hear and know all that I know of this
odd affair.'
-- 033 --
CHAPTER V. THE MUTE AND THE VOYAGE.
[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]
The pirate now proceeded with his
narrative, while Percival, walking up and
down the cabin, listened with deep attention.
`The eighteenth day, my lord,' resumed
Bonfield, `I made the Bermudas,
about two o'clock in the afternoon. At
sun-set I was anchored off the Black
Keys, and within range of the guns of
the fort. I had English colors flying,
and was no doubt taken for an English
schooner of war. The time had now
come for me to part with my two passengers;
and though one of them was
deaf and dumb, and the other but little
better, being an infant a year old, unable
to speak a word or understand one, I was
not a little sorry that I must part with
them. To the little girl I became very
much attached. I couldn't have loved
it any more had it been my own child,
nor half so much, I believe, for if it had
been mine it would not have been half
so handsome nor so interesting. It took
to me, too, after we had been three or
four days out, just as if I had been its
father. When I would come down into
the cabin, after being on deck in my
watch, it would hold out its little chubby
arms, and almost fly from the dumb
nurse's lap to reach me; and its large
blue eyes would sparkle and smile like
an angels. I never knew, my lord, I
had a proper human heart till that babe
began to love me so.'
`Such a reflection, Captain Bonfield,
does you honor,' answered the earl.
`I have done little worthy honor in
this world, my lord, I am well aware of
that. But the child did not alone interest
me. There was the young woman.
Her fair placid face, her large grey intelligent
eyes which answered for ears
and tongue, for she seemed to hear and
speak with them as well as see; her lady-like
gentleness; her amiable manners;
her air of dependence and trust in me,
altogether won me over completely. I
would have cut my right hand off before
I would have treated her unkindly. I
felt too that she and the child were innocent
victims of some state-policy, and
that they demanded sympathy.'
`Then you began to suspect this,' said
the earl, stopping in his walk and loking
him fixedly in the face.
-- 034 --
[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]
`Yes, my lord, from the very first, I
knew that the Admiral would not send
for me and my vessel, nor the great marquis
nearest the throne, come on board
on such business as brought him, unless
the disposal of the infant had something
to do with state matters. Though how
it could be I did not know. I could not
inquire, for the only two persons who
could enlighten me were, as you have
seen. I became, as I said, deeply interested
in the young woman. Who she
could be I was constantly conjecturing.
Her manners were remarkably lady-like;
her complexion fair, as if sun nor wind
had ever visited it rudely; her hands
white and soft, and exquisitely shaped.
It was plain she was no common person.
Her hair was the most beautiful I ever
beheld. It was as soft as floss, a golden
brown, and descended, when unbound,
till it swept the deck. My crew swore
she must be the queen of the Mermaids,
and her being incapable of speech confirmed
them in this opinion, which many
of them entertained seriously.
`The first few days I believed the
young woman was the mother of the
child; but I was soon led to suspect that
I was mistaken. She did not seem like
a young mother. She treated the infant,
indeed, with the kindest affection, and
gave all her time to it. Still the more
I dwelt upon the subject the more I was
convinced in my own mind that she was
not the child's mother. But I could not
ascertain this from her. We had learned
to converse together in a sort of language
of the fingers, but only for the interchange
of common-place ideas which
could be illustrated by objects at hand
to point to. Sometimes she would become
quite animated, and seem to endeavor
to make me comprehend something
she desred to reveal. At such times
her eyes would kindle and change their
expression in a most wonderful manner;
her face would be illumined with the
soul within, which seemed to be painfully
struggling to explain itself. I could
almost understand her. I could comprehend
a great deal; and if I had not been
so dull in intellect, I might have talked
with her and understood her; but my
own mind was too dull to reflect the brilliancy
of her own.'
`She must have been a very interesting
person.'
`She was, indeed, my lord; and as I
said, I felt regret at parting with her and
the child; and not a man on board but
was sad at the idea of their going. They
seemed to think that good luck was with
them while she was on board.'
`And have you no idea now who this
deaf and dumb person was?' asked Earl
Percival.
`I have my own guess, my lord,' responded
Bonfield, resting his manacled
hands upon his knees.
`Captain Bonfield, I wil give orders to
have the manacles removed, if they incommode
you,' said the earl benevolently.
`No, no, my good lord. I am used to
'em. It will be time enough whan I have
earned my liberty by letting you know
what you came on board in this storm to
get from me! I don't think it blows
quite so hard as it did. The waves don't
dash under the counter as they have
done.'
`No, the wind seems lulling; and I
shall not be sorry, for I assure you I was
never in more peril than when I came off
to-night to see you. If I had not had
the most skilfull boatman on the Thames
to row me, I should have been lost, or at
least should have had to swim for it. By
the by, the poor fellow is waiting for me
on deck.'
`I will soon be through with what I
have to say. I will be brief.'
-- 035 --
[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]
`Do not omit anything that it is material;
for it is important all the facts connected
with this affair should be known
to me. I am obliged to you for the minute
manner in which you have related
what you have done.'
`I might have made it still more particular,
my lord, but was afraid of wearying
your patience. I will try and pay off'
with a short hawser the rest of it. It
was just at sun-set as I dropped anchor
and furled sails off the Rock, within half
a mile of the shore. I had a handsome
compliment paid to me for the manner in
which I brought my schooner too, by
the captain of the fort the next day;
for though I came in under all sail, I
had my anchor down and every thing
snug alow and aloft in just one minute
and three quarters by the watch. I did
not time, nor think I was doing any
thing very extraordinary; but the officer
timed it.'
`Did he take you for a regular vessel
of the service, then?' asked the earl.
`Yes, of the revenue service, sent out
with despatches. I went ashore to the
town in my revenue uniform the next
day. But I am to tell your lordship what
I did the same night of my arrival, and
of the disposal of the infant.'
`That is what I chiefly desire to know.'
`From my deck, after we anchored, I
could see, by the means of my spy-glass,
the cottage retired among the woodlands
on the hill-side where the Oakford's
lived. I knew it at once by the description
which the Marquis had given me of
it. It was clear twilight for half an hour
after the sun went down, and every thing
was distinctly seen on the land. I had,
before anchoring, by signs, notified the
young woman, whose name, by the by, I
could not even get at, if she ever had
one, that she must begin to make ready
to land. She understood me, and proceeded
to pack up in trunks her own
things and those of the infants; for both
came aboard well supplied, the men who
brought her and the Marquis off, having
also brought two trunks which they put on
deck while I was below. I also forgot to
say that, at the suggestion of Lord Ross,
I took on board a goat at Lowes, where I
lay off for an hour on my passage for this
purpose. Thus the child had plenty of
milk on the voyage, and grew plump and
fat upon it. When the boat was alongside,
and it found it was to part from its
goat, it began to grieve, so that I ordered
the men to throw the goat into the bows
and let it go with the child. So we all
got in and pulled from the schooner towards
the shore. It was already night-fall,
so that when we reached the shore
at the foot of the fort we could hardly
have told a tree from a large rock. We
landed at a few steps, from which wound
a path up the steep. Leaving the boat
and ordering my men to pull off a hundred
rods from the shore, and keep quiet
till they heard me hail, I took the little
girl in my arms, and followed by two of
my crew with the baggage, and the dumb
girl resting upon my other arm, I went
up the path. It would around the fort,
though some distance from it; and after
following it about a quarter of an hour
we came to a wood which we passed
through, though it was as black as night,
and I could only discern the path from
the lighter color of the sand in it. After
getting out of the forest we came upon an
open glade which scemed to be quite elevated
above the sea. From it I could
look down into the very area of the fort,
and see the lights moving about in the
windows of the soldiers' barracks. I
could also discern about a mile and a half
distant the star-like glimmer of the lantern
in the rigging of my vessel.
`I now stopped and looked around to
see where we were, and how we should
find the house which I knew must be
-- 036 --
[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]
near us. After walking on again a little
further, I beheld directly before us the
rays of a light breaking through the foliage.
We hastened on and in a few
moments came in front of a small co:tage
built directly under an overhanging rock,
and sheltered by trees. It was a little
ways to the left out of the path, which
here made a bend to the right to avoid the
cliff, and thence passed down the hill side
beyond in the direction of the town, the
position of which I could also see by the
sparkle of the numerous lights in the
houses.
`Although, on account of the darkness,
I could not see the cottage very well, yet
I felt confident that it was where the Oakford's
lived, as its situation answered perfectly
to the description given me by the
marquis, and which I had put into writing.
I therefore boldly advanced to the door
and knocked. The young woman let go
my arm and seemed to be listening, as if
she could hear and understand whatever
was done. What astonished me was the
perfect confidence in others, and total
absence of suspicion with which she suffered
herself to be led. This struck me
at the time she came on board with Lord
Ross and went into the cabin so quietly,
and then so calmly let him depart to leave
her with total strangers, and under circumstances
which would have caused any
other woman to shrink and tremble.—
Then she got into the boat so willingly,
and suffered herself to be led, as it were,
blindly, up the path to the house, when
it was clear to me that she knew not
where she was going, surprised me. There
was no trembling, no drawing back, no
hesitation or look of doubt. She behaved
just like a child that had uo will but
the will of those about it.'
`This seeming indifference is characteristic
of the deaf and dumb. They always
instinctively and beautifully trust,
without fear or doubt, in their fellow be
ings, to whom God has given senses, denied
to themselves.'
`So I have thought it must be; and in
thinking about it, it occurred to me, my
lord,' said Bonfield, warmly, `that the
man who could betray or abuse such confidence
was unworthy the name of manhood—
he would be a monster!'
`You utter the sentiment of every honorable
bosom, Captain Bonfield. I cannot
withold my surprise that a person
endowed by nature with a mind in which
such sentiments find a place, should have
given himself up to a lawless career, in
which can be gained neither honor nor
good name!'
`Pardon me, my lord; I did not give
myself up to the life I have led!—I was
born a smuggler. I was raised a smuggler
from the first lispings of infancy.
It is my nature. Had I been born a lord
I should now have been a lord. Had
your lordship been born a smuggler, you
doubtless would now have been a smuggler.
Had some old gypsy exchanged us
in our cradles—if I ever had such a
luxury, other than the rocking of the waves—
we should very likely have been at this
moment in each other's places.'
`That is more than possible, Captain,'
answered the nobleman smiling. `You
have an excuse; but now that you know
better, and have had opportunities of improving
your condition, you are guilty.
And I sincerely trust that your present
close escape from an ignominous death
will lead you to be more careful of yourself
and your honor for the future.'
`I resolve to be, my lord. To tell you
the truth, I am getting to feel as if I should
like to have quiet. You see that my locks
are grey already, and that the lines of
age are deep in my face.'
`Be assured that you shall not want for
my good will and aid if need be, Captain
Bonfield. My conversation with you tonight
has developed in your character
-- 037 --
[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]
attributes that irresistibly command my respect.
You owe to yourself a worthier
fame than that you have so long enjoyed
as the most daring smuggler in the British
waters!'
`Yet this fame is something, my lord!
But I agree with you fully. But to my
story. I knocked a second time before
there was a reply, when the light which
had been shining from the windows of a
room on the right hand was removed,
shone through the key-hole, and the door
was slowly unlocked and carefully opened
by a woman. As the light she held fell
upon all our party, she drew back with an
exclamation of alarm, and would have
shut it in my face, but I placed my foot
in the way, and then gently forcing it
open said,
`Don't be alarmed, marm, we only
wish to know if one Master Oakford lives
here? If so, we have guests for him
from England, and also messages.' I
had no sooner spoken this name, than the
woman shricked.
`Ha! what is that?' cried a man's
voice within, and then we heard his quick
step to the door, which he threw open,
and taking the light from her hand, as it
was ready to fall, looked upon us sharply.
He was a tall, slender man, about forty
years of age by the appearance of his
face, but his hand was as white as the
driven snow. He had bold, but handsome
features, a keen black eye, and was
altogether a very striking and respectable
looking person, and evidently of birth and
degree above his present state.
`Are you Master Oakford?' I asked,
when I thought he had taken a sufficiently
long inspection of our group. His
gaze was partly inquisitive, partly suspicious.
`Come in and quickly, my friends!'
he answered, with some trepidation, as
once more I mentioned this name. `Come
n, and I will answer all inquiries.' His
face was as pale as that of the dead, and
the hand which held the lamp shook, so
that I expected to see it go out. The
female recovered her self possession, and
whispering something in his ear, of which
the words `betray yourself,' she said
smilingly to us, but I saw it was a forced
smile—
`Enter, friends. We are always glad
to see people from England here.'
`We went into the house, being conducted
to the room on the right, which
was plainly, but comfortably furnished.
Every thing about seemed to indicate
that the occupants were above want,
though by no means rich. The house
was a one story cottage built of stone,
with a thatched roof, it seemed to contain
five or six rooms; had a pretty yard
in front, a garden at the end, and commanded,
as I saw in the morning, a wide
and beautiful prospect. It was quite
alone by itself, no other cottage being
within half a mile; and the only access
to it was by the footpath, which led past
it from the fort, over the hill side round
the cliff to the town; for the fort stood
on one side of a sloping hill, and the town
in the other, the cottage crossing the summit
midway between. There was also
a wheel road from the fort to the town by
the shore.
`The woman gave us chairs, while the
man directed the two of the boats' crew
where to deposit their trunks. He then
left the men at the door, and came into
the little sitting-room. He stood by the
door, as there were but few chairs, looking
at me steadily, as if he expected me
to speak and make known my business.
His eyes also wandered with curiosity to
the dumb female, and the infant which
sat smiling in her lap, gazing round upon
the things in the room, and upon the faces
of the strangers.
`You are cold,' said the woman, to my
dumb passenger, `sit nearer the fire.'
-- 038 --
[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]
`The other replied by a smile only,
and remained where she was.
`You asked for Robert Oakford,' said
the man, approaching me and laying his
hand upon the back of my chair, and
looking at the woman they exchanged
glances as if dreading some evil.
`I asked for Master Ooakford,' I responded,
`and I trust that you are he;
for I have made a long voyage to see you.'
`Yes, that is my name,' answered the
man, with some hesitation. `What business
have you with me?'
`That I will speedily make known to
you, good Master Oakford,' said I, taking
from my pocket the package which Lord
Ross had commanded me to give him.—
`Here is a letter or two, which will tell
you my business much sooner than I can
do it.'
`I then gave him the package. He
caught it quickly from my hand and read
the superscription.
`All is safe!' he cried, looking at the
woman, who was his sister, a maiden lady
of about thirty-five, dressed very much
like a quakeress, but with a face of remarkable
sternness of expression.
`Thank God! was her fervent response.
`I instantly understood, my lord, from
this by-play, that there was a mystery of
some sort connected with these two persons,
of which Lord Ross knew far more
than I was ever likely to know. I saw
that between him and them was some
connection, but I had no clue to ascertain
in what way. The expression of both
their faces instantly changed on his seeing
the hand-writing. They looked greatly
relieved, as if some great weight had all
at once, been taken from their minds.
`Excuse me, Captain Bonfield, as I
see by the envelope you are,' he said,
going out of the room with the package,
which had that name on it as the bearer:
for `Vance' would hardly have done;
and I may as well say here, my lord,
that from this time I took the name of
Bonfield altogether. He had no sooner
gone out than the woman disappeared by
a side-door, and left us alone. The dumb
woman gazed round placidly upon the
house, and then asked me by signs if that
was to be her home. I replied that it
was, when she smiled and looked contented.
While the occupants of the house
was absent, I amused myself with the
little girl, which I had named Flora, because
she always reminded me of a flower.
I began to feel quite sad at the idea
of parting with it, for it had wound itself
about my heart; but I resolved that,
if I left it there I would come at least
twice a year to see it, so that it should
not forget me. Indeed I loved that child
so, that I had half a mind not to obey
Lord Ross, but keep it and bring it up;
for I knew that it was cast off from its
native country; but I did not wish to lose
the reward, and besides, I had pledged
myself to fulfil his instructions, and when
I give my word, it becomes a sacred law
to me.
`I felt sorry, also, at parting with the
poor deaf and dumb girl, who, I had at
length fully made up my mind was no
more related to the child than I was.
There was not the least resemblance
in its features to her, nor in hers to it.
Besides she had nothing of that matronly
air about her which is so very apparent
in young mothers.
`After about ten minutes absence the
man returned into the room. His face
wore an expression of pleasure and satisfaction.
The gloom and suspicion and
aspect of fear had given place to confidence
and cherfulness. He came up to
me and shook me by the hand very
warmly.
`Captain,' said he, `I am happy to see
you in Bermudas. I see by the letter of
the Marquis of Ross that you are in his
confidence. You have had a
-- 039 --
[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]
remarkable passage. I saw your schooner when
it came to anchor at sun-down, and then
wondered if it came direct from England,
and who it might contain. You and your
two passengers are welcome,' he contined,
shaking the hand of the dumb maiden,
and also that of the infant, though
with an air of respect that, but for certain
suspicions I had, would have seemed
to me ridiculous.
`His sister at this time came in, her
face also cheerful, and destitute of that
air of apprehension which had at first
been upon it. She also shook the hand
of the dumb woman whom I called Mary,
for she and the babe in her lap often reminded
me of pictures of Mary the Virgin
and her child, and so I called her
Mary; for one must have a name even
for a deaf and dumb person, my lord.
`This is my sister Sarah, Captain,'
said Martin Oakford, introducing her.
`You are welcome, captain,' she said,
with an hospitable air, `you have been
very kind to bring us company to cheer
our loneliness.'
`I fear that they will not be found very
sociable, marm,' I answered, `but I assure
you they will be found worthy of
your love. The smile of Mary is sunlight
enough for any house.'
`We then talked together a few minutes,
about the speed of my passage out,
the weather we had, and other things,
when at a look from him, his sister took
the babe and led Flora smiling from the
room to one prepared for her.'
-- 040 --
CHAPTER VI. THE PRIVATEER AND THE PRIZE.
[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]
`As soon as they had gone,' continued
Bonfield, resuming his narration after
thrusting into his cheek a quid of tobacco,
`Martin Oakford looked carefully
about him, and then buttoning the door
which led into the entry, in the outer door
of which my two men were left, he drew
near to me, and said in an under tone,
`Captain Bonfield, I see by the letter
of Lord Ross that you have faithfully executed
the mission which he entrusted to
you. From what he writes me you are
entitled to the reward for your services
of the large sum of four thousand pounds.
This you shall have to-morrow! Did his
lordship acquaint you with any of the
circumstances connected with this business?
' he added, keenly regarding my
countenance as he watched for my reply.
`I know only that I was to leave the
female and child in your charge, and receive
my money and depart,' I answered.
`He looked at me fixedly for a moment
and then said,
`Very well, you shall have your money
early in the morning. When do you
set sail again?'
`Tomorrow afternoon, or the next day,'
I answered, `I wish to look about the island
a little.
`He said nothing more to me for some
minutes, nor I to him. I was trying to
devise some way without being too blunt
to get at the truth of the mystery in which
I had blindly borne my share. It was
clear to me that the letters which Lord
Ross had written to him unfolded the
whole secret. This secret I was anxious
to come at.
`You have seen this dumb lady before?
' I asked abruptly, hoping to throw
him off his guard.
`No, never,' he answered firmly.
`Nor the child's relatives?'
`I do not know who they are, unless
you do,' he answered. `It was this I
wished to learn from you.'
`From me,' I repeated with surprise,
seeing by his face that he was sincere.
`I know no more about their parentage
or friends than the man in the moon. I
-- 041 --
[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]
supposed it was all cut and dried between
Lord Ross and yourself.'
`By no means,' he replied, with some
hesitation, as if uncertain how far to go
with me; `I have orders only to receive
the woman and child and keep them
faithfully until I receive further orders.
I am to regard the young woman as my
sister, and the child as my niece and so
bring it up, giving it the name of Verginia.
'
`And is this all?' I demanded.
`All, save that—Here he hesitated;
and then added quickly, `but I suppose
I may as well be free with you, Captain
Bonfield, as you are also in his lordship's
employ and confidence—save that he
pays me a certain sum yearly; but I
have no objections, Captain Bonfield, to
allow you to read the letter; but on
condition you never address me by the
name of Oakford; nor to speak of the
name again.'
`Then what shall I call you?' I asked.
`I am known here in the Bermudas by
the name of Blackburn only.'
`Then, Mr. Blackburn be it,' I answered.
He then took from his coat the pacquet
with the seal broken, and drawing
from it a letter addressed to `William
Oakford, Esq., handed it to me. By the
`Esq.' I knew that he was of good birth,
and had once been a gentleman as his
air bespoke him, though he was now in
an humble sphere.
`I read it, and if you would like to
hear the contents, my lord, they are in
my memory.'
`I have the greatest curiosity to know
them,' answered lord Percival with animation.
`The letter was dated at London, October
second, and ran as follows:
`To Robert Oakford, Esq.
`Sir,—The bearer of this is Captain
Bonfield. He takes out as passengers, a
young woman and child. The female is
deaf and dumb. You are hereby desired
to receive them into, your house, and
take care of them, maintaing and providing
for them as for members of your
own household. She is to pass for your
sister, and the child as your niece. For
their expenses you will draw two hundred
and fifty pounds a year in addition
to your present allowance, and from the
same source. On no account must the
woman or child be permitted to leave the
island. For their safe detention you will
be answerable. You will be watched.
Be faithful, therefore, to those who have
it in their power to injure you. Ask no
questions. Preserve silence, and be discreet,
and your conduct will meet with
recompense. The bearer after leaving
them safely in your hands, is empowered
by me to receive four thousand pounds;
for which an order is enclosed on —
which you will endorse and present for
payment. The child's name is Virginia,
to which you may add your own family
name; as it will henceforward grow up
and be regarded as one of your own
family. As soon as possible you may
forget that she has ever been otherwise.
The woman who is deaf and dumb you
will treat with kindness and respect, and
provide for all her wants, seeing that she
lacks nothing for her comfort. Upon the
exact and faithful performance of all
these requisitions will depend your own
future interests.
I am yours, with due consideration,'
Ross.'
`This man Oakord,' said lord Percival,
`must have been I conceive a political
offender sent out of England instead of
suffering a worse punishment. It would
seem that he was in the power of lord
Ross in some manner. This is my
opinion because state's prisoners were
sent to the Bermudas and to Jamaica at
that period.'
-- 042 --
[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]
`I supposed he was in some way in the
power of the Marquis, my lord,' resumed
Captain Bonfield, `and hinted as much to
him as I give him back the letter. He
did not deny it; but did not volunteer
any explanation's, nor did I ask him for
any. I saw by his letter that he was no
wiser than I was, and so rising and telling
him I would call in the morning I
bade him good night and left the house.
With my two men at my back I soon
reached my boat and pulled on board.
Early the next morning I was ashore
again, having promised Master Oakford
that I would take my breakfast with him.
When I came in sight of the cottage
Mary saw me, and flying to meet me, almost
threw her arms about my neck in
her joy at beholding me again; and with
her animated gestures she gave me to
understand that she feared I should not
return again; and I could see traces of
tears on her checks. I have often
thought, my lord, that the persons who
could send far away to sea, such a poor
helpless creature without friends, and
leave her among strangers must have
harder hearts than we smugglers if they
were lords of the realm, begging your
lordship's pardon.'
`No doubt you will find many men
with unfeeling hearts among the nobility
as well as otherwheres, Captain Bonfield,'
responded the Earl, slightly smiling. `It
was, indeed a cruel act from beginning
to end as you will believe when you
shall know all; for I have resolved
when I have heard what more you have
to tell, to make you a full confident of
the great and iniquitous scheme to which
you were at the time innocently made a
party. My knowledge of your true charecter
betrayed in your recital has won
my confidence; and especially are you
entitled to a full revelation of all the circumstances
to which you are yet in the
dark, by your generous manifestation of
sympathy for the young woman and the
child and your kindness. But proceed,
for I wish to know the exact situation of
these parties when you left them and
know when you last saw the child.'
`Well, you shall learn, my lord, for I
take a pleasure in unfolding all these
matters to you, because I see you are a
friend to the two helpless things that
were sent so cruelly over the sea. I
took breakfast with them, with the little
Flora on my knee. I could not help envying
the persons with whom I was to
leave them, as I knew what a treasure of
affection and love they were. I watched
Master Oakford and his sister narrowly
and it seemed to me that they would be
kind. The brother had an air of quiet
respectability about him and a very fine
smile which looked as if it came from a
heart in the right place I did not fear
for him so much as I did for the sister.
She looked very austere, and I thought
would not love my two proteges, for such
I look upon them, as they ought to be
loved; but I resolved to visit them often
and see how they flourished. From the
letter of lord Ross I saw that they were
cast out upon the world and would, perhaps,
never be heard of in England or
inquired for again. So I felt that I was,
as it were, their only friend. They
seemed to look upon me with the earnest
eyes of dependence and trust. I
swore, in my heart, that I would look
after them both as if I were their father;
for both seemed infants to me, for both
seemed equally helpless and blameless.'
`Captain,' said Earl Percival, `you
have a good heart.'
`My lord to be a smuggler is not to be
a devil!' answered Bonfield, with a slight
flush upon his fourrowed brow.
`I shall think better of smugglers all
my life for your sake, Captain.'
`And I of lords for your lordship's
sake,' responded the smuggler. `After
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[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]
breakfast I went down the hill into the
tour with Oakford. He went to a house
with me where my money was to be got
and there it was paid me in gold. I ordered
it to be put into a keg and sent on
board the Dart, which was done. I then
strolled down by the quay and here met
an officer who introducing himself to me
as Captain of the fort, inquired the news
from England and then complimented
me on the manner in which I had come
in with every thing set, and dropped anchor,
furled my courses and had all snug
in less than two minutes by watch.'
`Who was the person who paid the
order, Captain?' asked the Earl.
`It was the crown's treasurer, a certain
George Raithe, Esq. I believe.'
`I know him,' remarked the Earl.—
`He is still living in Sussex, he is now
Sir George! All your accounts confirm
facts. In relating these events to me,
Captain Bonfield, you not only do me a
service but many others. And in the
end you may do a great service to the
object of your deep interest if she be still
living, which I have reason to hope.'
`And I to know, my lord. If I can do
anything to serve her, I am heart and
hand yours.'
`You can, Captain Bonfield. When
did you see her last? Is she still in Ber
muda?'
`You shall hear my lord. After I got
my money, I went and took leave of
them. Mary understood plainly that it
was a parting, and she clung to me as if
she had been my sister or daughter,—
She wept and I almost thought she
would cry out and speak, she felt so at
heart. But the poor creature's tongue
had no power to articulate. I never pitied
any body so in my life, nor suffered
so badly myself. The child too—little
Flora! It understood all about it, that I
was going away and when I took it up
in my arms it clung so about my neck
that I was more than half a mind to take
them both back aboard my vessel, marry
the pretty Mary if she would have me,
and go and settle down in some far off
land, and then live and be happy with
them. I knew I could soon learn to talk
with her, and the child she had already
begun to teach a language of signs, so
that it understood her perfectly.
`But I felt that it would be doing injustice
to the marquis who had ordered
me to leave them there, and so tearing
myself away from them, I hastened almost
blinded with the tears which somehow
had got into my eye, to my vessel.
I was soon under weigh and steered to
the northword the wind blowing off the
shore. As long as I could distinguish
objects on the land, I kept my glass at
eye watching the cottage. I seemed to
leave my heart and all that was good
for anything about me there. As it faded
away in the dim haze of the distance
I put up my glass with the internal reso
lution that before three months I would
be there again.
`I was bound to no particular place
I had a fine crew and was well armed,
and having heard on the island of the
war between Mexico and Spain, I now
resolved that I would run for the Gulf of
Mexico, get a letter of marque commission
at Vera Cruz and capture, for pastime,
two or three of the richly laden
Spanish ships. Upon proposing this to
my crew, they assented to it without a
dissenting voice, and so tacking ship, I
laid my course southwardly.
`But I am not to give your lordship a
history of my cruize. I wish however
to state what would show you that I have
never been a pirate, though I have been
outlawed as such and am now under arrest
and capture with my vessel as such.
I cruized for three years under the Mexican
flag with success, and became rich.
Three times a year I touched at
-- 044 --
[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]
Bermuda, to visit my proteges whom I found
happy, the babe growing finely. It always
recollected me, and called me uncle,
which I had taught it to do. One
third of my money I regularly invested
for the child, another third for Mary;—
whose countenance always shone like
the sun when she saw me return. I will
now tell your lordship how I first got
the name of a buccanier. There was a
French vessel brought into the island a
prize. It was at the beginning of the
war with France. It lay close along
side of me, I being under the revenue
flag as usual. I went on board and discovered
that the captain and one of his
officers were former friends of mine, who
had been my assistants in smuggling
goods to the English coast. I liked the
captain much—he had done me many
favors, and now when I saw him about
to be taken ashore a prisoner, I resolved
to try and effect his escape He had recognized
me at once and flown into my
arms, calling me `Vance.' The recognition
was observed and the name heard
by the English prize lieutenant, who
wondered much to see me, an English
revenue officer as I was supposed to be,
in his majesty's service, on such intimate
terms with a French officer. The name
of Vance also sounded rather lawless to
his nice ear. But he said nothing then
nor did I. I conversed awhile with the
Gascon Captain, told him that I intended
to cut out his vessel that night at all
risks. He grasped my hand with grateful
emotion, for he had a wife and three
lovely children awaiting him in France.
`I effected my object by getting under
weigh, laying the Dart along side the
French brig, and throwing my men on
her decks. The Englishman was driven
below and the prisoners released, and
sail at once made upon the prize. The
English prize officer and his crew of
fourteen men were put into a boat and
permitted to pull to the shore—and in
ten minutes both vessels were standing
seaward with a fresh breeze and beyond
reach of the guns.'
`This was an imprudent act, captain,'
said the earl.
`It was one of friendship, my lord.—
The news was soon told me in the town
by the officer, and two vessels of war
slipped their cables and pursued us. But
we saw nothing of them. My name soon
became associated with that of a buccanier
at Bermudas. It was ascertained at
home that there was no such person as
Captain Bonfield in the revenue service,
and I was pronounced to be a pirate. At
Bermuda I was outlawed, and large rewards
were offered for my capture. Not
long after this certain piracies occurred
in the seas between Bermuda and Nova
Scotia, and the credit of them was publicly
given to me, while I was quietly
cruising under the Mexican flag in the
Gulf of Mexico.
`At length, after an absence of nearly
a year, I resolved to visit Bermuda and
see what had become of my proteges. I
altered my schooner into an hermaphrodite
brig, stepped her masts a little more
perpendicularly, and disguised her with
paint like an ordinary West Indian trader.
I bent old sails, stowed my guns in the
hold, and showed but eight hands on
deck. I entered the port unsuspected,
and anchored near the town, telling the
Custom-house officer that I had touched
at the island for water and fresh provisions,
and showing him forged papers,
on which I called myself Kelly and the
brig `The Frances.' I was unsuspected,
and when night came I privately landed
and hastened to the cottage. I was received
with joy. I found them both
well, and Flora now in her sixth year,
looking like an angel. She could talk,
I found, much better with Mary than with
me. Indeed with her fingers she was as
-- 045 --
[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]
fluent as speech could be to her; while
she could scarcely talk at all with her
tongue. I did not then understand this.
With them I was perfectly happy. They
oved me dearly.'
`And had no suspicion attached to
Oakford, on your account?'
`No, my lord. He had never been
seen with me but once; and my visits to
the cottage had always been in the night
and secret, after the first time. I asked
Oakford if he had heard from lord Ross.
He said he had not, but his pay had been
regularly received. He seemed to be
greatly attached to the child and also to
Mary. He told me, confidently, that he
was convinced and had been from the
first, that the child was of very high birth.
This I assented to as my own belief; but
we could neither of us enlighten the other
upon the subject. At this time I tried to
earn from him why he had left England
and why he kept so quiet there; for he
told me he knew scarcely any one, and
that his house was seldom visited by the
islanders, save those of the humblest degree,
who like him, were tillers of the
soil. But I could never draw anything
from him relating to himself, further than
that he was under the greatest obligatiens
to the Marquis of Ross, and could
refuse nothing to his request or demand.
`After leaving some Mexican presents
with my two friends, and satisfying myself
that they were happy I was about to
go, when it occurred to me that I had
some books of colored prints on board
which might please Flora; so I told
Oakford if he would go with me, it being
only a little past nine, to the shore, I
would send them to him after I went on
board; for I intended to sail before day
for fear of accidents. To my surprise
he told me that she was forbidden books.
`Forbidden to have books!' I repeated.
`Yes; I should have told you, but forgot
it, that two years ago I received a
brief note from Lord Ross, though it bore
no signature, in which I was forbidden to
teach the child its letters, or learn it to
read or place books within its reach!'
`And have you obeyed the order?' I
asked.
`Yes. I am in their power in England
and can do no otherwise!' was his answer
in a tone of bitterness.
`And Flora is ignorant of her letters
even?' said I.
`Yes, totally so!'
`They would have forbidden her to
learn to speak, if it could have been possible,
' I cried indignantly.
`The note stated,' said Oakford, `that
all the teaching or instruction whatsoever
the child got should be from the nurse;
for the woman is not the child's mother.
The marquis also desired us to speak as
seldom to the child as was possible.'
`This, then, accounts for her embarrassed
speech with me. I wonder at it
no longer. This is barbarous,' I cried
indignantly. `I hope,' I added, `I hope
you will disobey this order, Mr. Oakford.'
`I dare not; but do not call me Oakford
again!' he added, earnestly.
`Well, perhaps you dare not,' said I.
`It is a strange affair all round.'
`It is indeed,' he answered. `I have
no alternative but to obey. I live upon
the bounty of the man who sent them to
my charge.'
`We then parted; but I resolved that
I would circumvent this nobleman in his
inhuman scheme, to prevent the development
of this beautiful child's faculties.—
As I sat in the stern of my boat I tried to
imagine what object could be attained by
Ross in placing this innocent little girl
first in the charge of a mute, then exiling
both among strangers, then forbidding
knowledge and speech to the child, as if
he would make it dumb also, and ignorant
as a brute animal. But I could arrive at
no clue in my own mind; but as I ascended
the deck of my vessel and gave
orders to get underweigh, I resolved that
it should not be long before Flora should
not only see pictures but read books.'
-- 046 --
CHAPTER VII. THE LANDING AT OAKFORD'S COTTAGE.
[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]
The smuggler having changed his position,
so as to render the weight of his
chains easier to bear, and drank a glass
of wine which the Earl handed him from
the side-board, thus resumed his narrative:—
`I had got about ten leagues from the
island, when I hove my vessel too, and
began to deliberate what steps I should
take with reference to the lovely child,
which had taken such a hold upon my
heart, and also, its mute nurse, Mary.—
For hours I walked the deck, and formed
first one scheme, and then another, but
rejected each. To take possession of
them both in the night by the aid of my
men, I felt would be easy enough; but
when I got them on board my vessel,
what was to be done with them? This
was the difficulty. To keep them constantly
with me at sea, in all my cruises,
I saw would not do; it would be inconvenient,
and expose them to all the dangers,
to which I myself was exposed. I
loved them both too well, not to render
their situation, should I take them into my
hands, as pleasant as possible. I thought
seriously of proposing marriage to Mary,
after I got them on board; and I meant
to do it by showing her the picture of the
marriage ceremony in an old prayer-book
I always carried, in case of accidents.
As my wife, I intended to settle
with her in the United States, and there
bring up the little Flora as onr daughter.
But the idea of binding myself to a wife,
was rather startling to a man who had so
long had his freedom; and then I felt
afraid I should not make Mary happy.'
`Such a reflection was very honorable
to your feelings, Captain,' said Lord Percival.
`I do not think any man is entitled to
credit for doing what is right, my lord.—
I cogitated a long time what I should do.
At length in my perplexity, I called to
my councils my young friend, Nickerson,
who alwas lived in the cabin with
me, and who was at all times in my confidence.
I had frequent evidences of his
intelligence, judgment and readiness of
wit. He was now no longer a boy, but
a young man in his twentieth year, and
my second officer. He had seen that
something was on my mind, and more
than once asked me as we lay too, and I
was pacing up and down the deck, what
was the matter. At length I called him
-- 047 --
[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]
into the cabin, and told him all about my
perplexity.
`After a few minutes reflection he said,
`I think, Captain, that I can relieve
you of the dilemma, and make all fair
and above board.'
`If you can do so, Harry,' said I, `I
will give you fifty guineas; for what to
do with our dear friends I know not.'
`You know,' said he, `that when I last
went ashore in England, that I found my
father and mother had emigrated to America.
Well, I found out last year by an
American sailor I met in Kingston where
they were, for he had come from the same
place and knew them well. It was near
Boston, at a place called Dorchester.—
My father was gardenering for a gentleman
of wealth, whose estate lay near the
waters of the harbour, or Bay of Boston.
Now if we can get Flora and mute Mary
on board, all we shall have to do will be
to set sail for Yankee-land, and place
them under charge of my father, who for
a small recompense, will take the best
of care of them. My father is a kind old
man, and my mother the best of women;
and the wonder is, how they ever came
to have such a reprobate son as Harry
Nickerson!'
`Your proposition is the very thing!'
I exclaimed, giving my hand to Harry.
`It is just what I wanted. The thing is
done. Towards night, we will stand in
again for the island, lay off and go ashore
for them!'
`And this now is what I wish to hear
about,' said the Earl, with additional interest.
I have had such information as
to cause me to believe that the child lived,
but where, or in what part of the world
she was, could not be told!'
`Your Lordship will not longer remain
ignorant,' responded Bonfield; `for I
see that you are Flora's friend!'
`Of that you will be convinced by and
by,' answered the Earl earnestly.
`I came within sight of the island again
about four o'clock, and the wind being
favorable, I stood in with both sheets hauled
aft, and as the sun went down I was
within five miles of the fort. I continued
to stand on, shortening sail every little
while, until I came too under the fore-top-sail,
only within about a mile of the
shore. It was a dark night, and at this
distance, with the little canvass I displayed,
I knew I should not be discovered
from the fortress. I then manned my
boat, took a sufficient number of pistols,
and cutlasses to arm my men, for I determined
not to be prevented in accomplishing
my purpose by any alarm that
Oakford might give, and pulled ashore
with muffled oars. I landed at the foot
of the path, and landing my men in strict
silence proceeded with seven of them
well armed and accompanied by Harry,
towards the cottage.
`As we had to wind around one of the
bastions of the fort, upon the battlements
of which was a sentinel, within half musket
shot distance, the least noise would
have betrayed us. But we passed the
bastion without being discovered and soon
gained the elevated plateau where the cottage
stood. A light, as at the time when
I first saw it, sparkled through the foliage
of lotus and accacia trees in the little yard.
I approached it within a few feet of the
gate in the paling, and stationed my men,
two of whom carried between them a
large arm-chair with straps crossed over
their shoulders to support it. I then advanced
to the door with Harry, and knocking
waited for it to be opened; for I
meant to do what I had set myself to do,
quietly if possible, forcibly if I must!
`What! Captain Bonfield again back!'
cried the sister of Robert Oakford, appearing
at the door.
`Yes,' I answered; `where is your
brother?'
`He is in the town, but will soon
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[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]
return. He will be surprised to see you!'
and she spoke as if she was quite as unwilling
to see me as she was surprised;
for since my affair of cutting out the
French brig, both she and her brother
had regarded me with less favor than before.
But I know they dared not inform
against me, as this would necessarily lead
to an inquiry into matters which doubtless
they would prefer should remain quiet.
So they suffered my visits; but there was
an absence of cordiality in their reception
of me, and they always seemed to be
pleased to have me take my departure.
`When will your brother return?' I
asked.
`I expect him by eight o'clock,' she
answered, looking with misgiving at the
cutlass I held in my hand, and which I
had used as a walking-stick to climb the
path; and I saw also that she looked timidly
at the pistols stuck in Harry's belt.
`It is now half-past seven,' said I; `I
cannot well wait to see him. Where are
Flora and Mary?'
`But I had no need to inquire, my lord.
Before the words were out of my mouth
they were both in my arms. Flora in the
room had heard my voice and made
Mary acquainted with my presence, and
both fled to meet me.
`Flora,' I said, `run and get your bonnet
and shawl and your aunt Mary's, and
tell her that I have come to take you both
away with me!'
`At this the child clapped her hands
with joy, and instantly began with rapid
fingers to make known to her nurse what
I had said. Mary bent forward towards
her as if listening with her eyes. A
happy expression at once animated her
countenance, and taking my hand she
smiled and pressed it warmly. The next
instant she and Flora left me to get ready.
All this while the sister of Robert Oakford
stood bewildered. She seemed as if
unable to realize what was passing before
her eyes, for she had heard what I had
said to Flora.
`Do you really intend to take them
away?' she demanded between surprise
and doubt.
`Yes; I shall at once place them on
board my vessel,' I replied.
`And by what authority?' she demanded.
`What means this?' cried Robert Oakford,
coming into the house; `I could
hardly get into my own dwelling for an
armed party outside! You here, Captain
Bonfield? So your men there said,
but I could hardly credit it!'
As he spoke he came close to me and
looking at me and my weapons said to
his sister.
`What was this I heard about having
authority? What has Captain Bonfield
come for?'
`To take away Flora and Mary,' I
answered firmly. `They are now gone
to get ready. You will oblige me by aiding
them all you can to hurry their preperations,
' I added to his sister.
`Take them away! Has Lord Ross
sent for them?' he asked.
`I shall make no explanations,' I answered.
`They both are to go with me
on board at once. Your power over them
terminates now. Make no resistance nor
attempt to prevent it. I have an armed
party without, as you saw!'
`Will you tell me if you have instructions
from the Earl of Ross to do this?'
he asked, hardly able to command his
surprise.
`I have not—I should not ask him!'
was my reply. `He has cast them upon
the world friendless. No one truly loves
them but me. You take care of them because
you fear, from some reason or
other, the Earl of Ross; and because
you are well paid for it. I am sorry to
interrupt you in the receipt of your income
from this source; but Flora shall
-- 049 --
[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]
not on this account be brought up in ignorance
and by a refinement of cruelty,
almost as speechless as if she were a
born mute. This iniquity shall not be
perpetrated. You will, therefore, at once
permit me to take them and be their protector.
'
`Good God!' cried Oakford with looks
of alarm and grief, as he turned to his
sister, `what shall we answer to Lord
Ross?'
`Oh, Captain Bonfield!' she cried with
singular earnestness, `spare my brother!
You know not what evil will become his
if you take them away! It will be our
ruin—you know not how my brother is
in his power!'
`I indeed am ignorant,' I answered,
`of the singular connection that seems to
exist between his lordship and your brother;
but if he apprehends evil to himself
from the step I am taking I will fully acquit
him to his lordship. I will write a
letter to Lord Ross, and also give you a
receipt for the young woman and little
Flora.'
`I am in no situation to resist this aggression
on your part,' answered Oakford.
`Draw up the papers in a shape
that will clear me, that his lordship will
see that I have been compelled to give
them up.'
`This I will do,' I answered; and seating
myself at the table in the next room
I wrote as follows, for I remember it
nearly word for word:
`My lord,
`This night I have landed with an
armed party and invested the cottage of
Robert Oakford, where the two passengers
you entrusted to me six years ago
are placed under his protection. I have,
by force of arms, taken the two out of
his possession, and am about to convey
them on board my vessel and sail with
them from the island. Believe me that
your agents, Robert Oakford and sister,
have done all that they were able to prevent
me from taking them away; but as
I was determined at all risks to get them
both into my possession, they have had
no other alternative but submission.
`My object in taking this step, my lord,
is influenced by a holy indignation against
that barbarous policy adopted by you
which would, by giving the child a deaf
and dumb muse, and forbidding your
agents to speak with it, have made it
grow up both a heathen and little better
than a natural mute. What your lordship's
object is in pursuing this extraordinary
course towards a helpless child, I
am not sufficiently skilled in wickedness
in high places to conceive; but be assured
that your infernal policy has met
in me an adversary who intends signally
to defeat it. I love the child! It endeared
itself to me in its infancy, and I
have not ceased to watch over both it
and the interesting young woman to
whose care it has been committed. Your
lordship will never hear of the child
again. I shall sail to the United States,
and there in some retirement where your
power nor your spies can reach it, I shall
watch her growth from childhood to girlhood,
and leave nothing undone to render
her life, began so inauspiciously, happy
and cloudless.
`I am your lordship's
`Obedient servant,
VANCE.'
`This was an extraordinary letter,
Captain Bonfield,' said lord Percival, with
an expression of wonder upon his face at
the boldness of the smuggler. `You are
as daring with your pen as with your
sword, I see.'
`I fear no man, my lord. In a bath
there is no difference between a king
and a beggar. The common people of
-- 050 --
[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]
England that now bow their necks to the
yoke of the aristocracy, will, ere another
generation, learn this lesson. But, I beg
your lordship's pardon. When I had
read what I had written, to Oakford, I
folded and sealed it with the hilt of my
cutlass. He was satisfied with it; and
set quietly down letting me do as I chose.
`So I got the trunks belonging to my
protoges, helped to pack them, locked
them and gave them to my men, and then
wrapping both Flora and Mary in cloaks,
for it was a sharp night, I sat the latter
in the arm chair between the two sailors,
and folded Flora in my arms covering
her with my over-coat. Oakford and his
sister took a tearful leave of them, for it
was impossible they should not have been
attached to them, for they were angels
and would have won any body's hearts,
except such as Lord Ross carried in his
guilty breast.'
`His Lordship amply deserves the
severe reflections you cast upon him,
Captain Bonfield.'
`I am glad to hear you say so, Lord
Percival,' answered the smuggler, in a
hearty tone. `It shows me more and
more that you are a friend to Flora; and
so I take pleasure in telling you all that
occurred.'
`And I hope that you will be able to
tell me that she is alive, and can be found.'
`I will tell your Lordship all I know.
After we left the cottage, we proceeded
to the boat as rapidly as we could move,
and had just placed the chair with Mary
in it, in the stern, when we were hailed
by a sentry. I instantly told my men to
leap into the boat, and take to their oars.
I sprung to the after part of it, and placed
my person between Mary and the little
girl and the fort, so that if the soldier
fired, they should not be hit.'
`Captain Bonfield, I can almost forget
that you have been a smuggler,' cried
the Earl. `Every moment my admiration
of you, as a man, is increased!'
`We had hardly pushed off, and the
men taken the first stroke with their oars,
when the sentinel hailed a second time,
and then fired. It was well I had taken
the position I had, for a ball struck me
in the upper part of the shoulder, and
glancing upward, passed through the corner
of Mary's straw hat, as she sat before
me, holding Flora on her lap. If I had
not stopped the bullet, it would have
struck her in the breast and killed her.
The wound I got was pretty severe, for
I was not able to use my arm for three
months. We got safely on board through
a pretty smart fire which was opened
upon us from a six pounder; but the
night was so dark, we did not offer them
a very good target. But the flash of their
guns showed them my vessel, and I had
hardly struck her deck with my foot,
when the fortress opened a broad-side
upon us. But we were under sail in a
moment, and in ten minutes were beyond
reach of her guns, though with the loss
of one man killed and three wounded,
and a wound in our foremast by a spent
ball. But under the circumstances I got
off pretty well, my lord.'
`Yes, it was a very narrow escape for
you. Did you sail at once for the United
States?'
`Yes, and in five days I was in Boston
harbour, one of the handsomest harbours
in the world, with its beautiful
green islands, its surrounding country,
and noble city in the distance, crowning
the whole. It was my second visit there,
and I was not, therefore, wholly a stranger.
I showed my papers to the customhouse
officer, who pronounced them all
regular; and so I had nothing to do but
to look out for a home for Mary and
Flora!'
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[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]
`If I loved the child, my Lord, when
it was an infant but a year old, I loved it
now that it had grown to a sweet little
angel of a child in her seventh year.—
She endeared herself to me so on this
last passage, that if I had had a thousand
lives, I would have given them all for
her; if I had had the riches of Mexico, I
would have laid them all by for her.—
She was so beautiful to look upon and so
good and sweet-tempered. Her eyes,
which were large and as blue as the sea
off soundings, seemed to dance always
with joy, or sparkle with mirth, or glisten
with emotion. Her smile fairly warmed
my heart. It was better than sunshine;
indeed it might have been never so cloudy
and stormy on deck, so long as I could
look at her beautiful countenance, it was
as if the sun shone down through the
sky-light. Her laugh too, my lord!—
It was better than the singing of any
tropical birds I ever listened to! I would
rather have heard Flora laugh than a
hundred canaries and mocking birds in
full chorus of a spring morning. She
would make more music than all of them
put together! You can't conceive, my
lord, how that was loved by me! And
Mary too! If possible I loved her quite
as well as I did Flora. I never saw two
persons so much alike as they were. By
means of Flora I could talk with Mary,
almost perfectly. The little child could
translate every word I uttered. Well,
my lord, I reached Boston harbour, and
anchored in the stream. Harry now
took it upon himself to find out his father.
He went ashore in the morning and about
noon came aboard, and told me that he
had been successful. He had seen both
his father and mother, who had received
him as if he had risen from the dead.—
He told me that they were very comfortably
situated, his father being part farmer,
and sole gardener to a gentleman,
who had let him have a neat cottage on
one corner of his estate, not a hundred
yards from the water side.
`To them, after the joy of the first
meeting was over, Harry made known
his business, telling that his Captain had
a young deaf and dumb friend and child,
for whom he wished to procure an asylum,
until he had done following the sea.
He told them that if they would take
them, they would be made independent.
They consented, and said that they had
a spare room, which would just answer
for the two guests.'
`When Harry had related all to me
concerning his visit, I resolved without
delay to go ashore with my proteges. It
was about half an hour before sunset
when, with both on board and Harry as
a guide, I pulled into the shore directly
opposite the cottage of the old gardener.
I could see it from the boat, and I was
pleased with its situation in the midst of
a garden, and overshadowed by trees,
which now, however, were rapidly losing
their leaves. It was just such a place as
would tempt me, whensoever I left the
sea, to cast anchor there for life. Well,
my lord, I found the old people precisely
the sort of persons Harry had represented.
They were kind, and hospitable,
and simple. They hardly knew how to
show themselves sufficiently grateful to
me, for restoring them, as they were
pleased to say it, their son again. Many
and Flora soon understood the new relation
they were to hold to these worthy
persons, and seemed greatly pleased with
them and every thing they saw about
them. They would have been perfectly
happy if I was to remain with them.
This I should be glad enough to do; but
after three days stay I got anxious to be
off and at sea again; for though I loved
to be with my proteges, I also was happy
away from them, knowing they were safe
and agreeably situated. So, after the
fourth day, my lord, I took a tender leave
-- 052 --
[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]
of them, left with old Mr. Nickerson
one hundred and fifty pounds, and, with
Harry, pulled out to my vessel which I
had hauled in nearly abreast of the cottage.
I soon made sail and steered out
to sea.
From that time, my lord, I have seen
my protege every year until the present
one, and I assure you she has grown up
to be the most beautiful young lady that
your eyes, or those of any man, ever
looked upon. And she is well educated
too. I spared no expense for this.
I was on my way to visit her from the
Mediterranean, where I had been helping
the Greeks against the Turks, when
it occurred to me before I crossed the
Atlantic I would pay my old smuggling
haunts a visit. It was on this unlucky
visit my vessel was taken by surprise
by two revenue cutters, while I
was arrested on shore; for I had been
recognized by an old enemy, information
given, and I had thus fell into the
hands of the government. I was taken as
a smuggler only, my lord, but when I was
brought up here to London in my vessel
they had me put in chains as a pirate;
bringing up against me the old affair of
the French brig I had cut out of Bermuda,
and also charging me with a score of piracies
which other men had committed,
not I; for I plainly declare to you, my
lord, I have never committed an act of
piracy since I sailed the blue sea. The
worst that can be said of me is that I
have been a smuggler.
-- 053 --
CHAPTER VIII. THE GENEROUS NOBLEMAN AND HIS BOATMAN.
[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]
As Bonfield ended his narration, which
we have embodied into, and made a part
of our Romance of the Sea and Shore,
he stood before the nobleman with his manacled arms folded upon his chest and
his bearing at once bold and respectful.
The Earl had listened to his narration
with the deepest attention, and with the
strongest interest manifested in the changing
expression of his countenance. There
was a silence of a few minutes, which
was broken only by the low gurgle of the
waters under the rudder of the vessel. At
length the Earl spoke:
`I have listened to your recital, Captaid
Bonfield, with no little attention. It
has deeply interested me and also led me
to think better of you. It also bears upon
its face throughout the air of truth. It
corroborates what I had, in part, already
heard, and which led me to seek the interview
with you. I am sorry you are a
prisoner, and that you should have been
captured under the circumstances you
have just stated. But it will, doubtless,
result to your advantage, and that of the
young person in whom you have taken
so deep an interest.'
`In that case, my lord,' answered Captain
Bonfield, `I am glad I have been
taken; and if it will benefit Flora I would
be willing to wear heavier chains than
these. I know well, my lord, that that
child came of no ordinary parentage.
This is clear from the fact that the First
Lord of the Admiralty interested himself
to have me employed in the affair of spiriting
her away from the island, and in
that so great a nobleman as the Marquis
of Ross should have come on board in
person, and delivered the infant into my
hands. It is also evident from the large
sum, four thousand pounds, paid me for
my services, and the annual amount
drawn by Oakford for their maintenance.
Who the parents of the child are, I have
no positive opinion; but I believe that it
is an illegitimate daughter of the Earl of
Ross himself, for I could scarcely go
higher unless I went to one of the royal
Dukes themselves. She bears, my lord,
the impress of high birth upon her features.
She looks every inch a lady; a
princess, for that matter. I wish the lord
Ross could see her now. England would
be proud of her.
`I hope England will see her yet, my
worthy Captain,' said the Earl with
warmth. `I have no doubt, too, that the
-- 054 --
[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]
lord of Ross may yet behold her, also.
Now, Captain Bonfield, it remains to
learn whether she is alive and can be
found.'
`She was alive four months ago, my
lord, and well, for at Smyrna I had letters
from her step-father, the old man,
Harry's father. She wrote to me every
three months regularly. But, my lord,
you have not informed me why you came
to see me to-night. I should like to know
the cause which induced you to come,
and how it is you heard anything about
this matter.'
`I will let you know all this fully tomorrow,
Captain; for it is my intention
to have you a guest at my mansion to
breakfast with me. There I wish you
to see me or two others who are interested
in the affair, and there you will receive
such instructions as may be prepared
for you in reference to the young
person whom you have been so faithful
to. It is already very late; and as the
storm seems to have lulled I will leave
you, first giving orders to the lieutenant
in command to remove your irons. I
will send a boat for you early in the
morning.'
`I shall be happy to wait upon your
lordship,' answered Bonfield.
The Earl then opened the companion-door
and spoke to the officer in charge;
and as he did so, Bonfield saw through
the opening that the cloud had broken
away and stars were glittering in the deep
blue vault across which fleecy clouds
were swiftly driven by the wind.
`Lieutenant Duff,' said the Earl to the
bluff British sailor, `I beg your pardon for
so long holding possession of your quarters
here; but I had particular business
with your prisoner. You will, if you
please, remove his irons, and give him
full liberty of the deck. Early in the
morning I shall send on board for him to
come on shore when you will also ac
company him. You will find a carriage
at the water-stairs, which you will get
into with the prisoner, and you will be
driven to my hotel.'
`You shall be obeyed, my lord,' answered
the officer, touching his storm-cap,
and partly raising it from his forehead
with respect
`Good night, Captain Bonfield,' said
the Earl, in a familiar manner.
`Good night, my lord,' responded the
smuggler, as the Earl left the cabin
wrapped in his cloak, and went upon
deck.
Here he found Martin the boatman,
who had been passing the two hours
his lord Percival had spent in the cabin
in listening, under the lee of the long
boat, to the long yarns of two old tars
who were recounting their exploits and
escapes, and strange adventures in out-landish
seas and countries. To these interesting
narratives of the experienced
old seamen the simple boatman of the
Thames listened with such deep interest
that he was quite unaware how rapidly
the time was flying. The roar of the
storm about their sheltered nook only
made the stories more worth the hearing,
and by no means lessened the animation
of those telling them. At the first call of
the officer of the deck for the `Wherryman,
ahoy! Bear ahand with your oars
for shore,' he sprung to his feet and hastened
to the side.
`Well, my brave fellow,' said the earl,
`I have kept you full long, but you shall
not go unrewarded. I am now ready.'
`And so am I, sir,' answered Martin,
jumping into his boat, which he had already
drawn up from the stern along side,
and into which he now sprung. The
nobleman stepped in and took his seat,
waving his hand to the lieutenant in adieu.
Martin bent his body to his light oars
and the little skiff shot rapidly away from
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[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]
the dark looking vessel towards the
shores of the silent town.
`We have a better time, boatman, returning,
' said the earl, as the boat danced
rapidly along.
`Yes, sir,' answered Martin, who was
not sure that his passenger was a nobleman,
though he suspected it, and therefore
did not address him as `my lord';
`the river is almost quiet again, and the
storm has blown down towards the channel.
The stars shine out between the
broken sky-drift as if they were glad to
look down upon their faces, shining in
the rivers and seas again. There is
more wind in the clouds than on the land
now, sir. This is a sign of a long spell
of fair weather. But we did have a perilous
time going on board, sir. I should
have turned back more than once, but
when I saw you so fearless, I was
ashamed, a boatman as I was, to be out-done
by a gentleman on my own element.
I have a pride, sir, in my profession.
'
`That is praiseworthy. Every man
should feel a proper ambition in his pursuit,
however humble it is. It is the sign
of a well-regulated mind, and stability of
character. How much do you earn in a
week, by your oars?' inquired the earl,
who was inclined to beguile the passage
by conversing with the brave young
boatman, who, as he pulled at his oars
with steady stroke and his face towards
him, was able to talk and hear both.
`About twenty shillings when the season
is good, sir. But some weeks I do
well to take thirteen shillings. Do you
know, sir, that your coming off to-night
has been of the greatest service to me;
for I feel so grateful that I can't help
telling you, sir. But what I get for this
service is to make me and all my family
happy. I was sad enough just before
you came to my door.'
`Indeed! So small a trifle. I am
glad, then, for your sake, I had business
on the schooner. But how is it you, with
a good boat, health, and a strong pair of
arms and industrious, are in such case as
to need a guinea so much that your happiness
is secured by its possession?'
`I will tell you, sir. My wife's father,
who was a stocking weaver, and an honest
thrifty old man, in his old days got
involved by going surety for a friend for
fifty pounds. This friend died before he
could pay it, and the creditor sold for
thirty pounds all his goods, and cast him
into prison till he should pay the other
twenty. In prison he took the fever and
would have died there, if I had not seen
the creditor and bound myself to him to
pay the money within sixty days. On
this bond, which I secured by a mortgage
to him of all I had to the Sunday clothes
of my wife and myself, he set my father-in-law
at liberty, and we took him home
to our humble dwelling and made him as
comfortable as we could, and he soon
began to recover.'
`Did your chattels amount to more
than the debt?' asked the earl.
`No, sir. They fell, as he rated them,
at three pounds five shillings under; but
he well knew I was an honest man and
would pay every penny, so he let me
give my bond for the rest. But a few
days afterwards, he came and said he
must have further security, and so I gave
him in writing authority to take possession
of my wherry and oars at the end of
the sixty days, if the whole twenty pounds
were not paid punctually down. Twenty
pounds, sir, though a trifle to you, perhaps,
was a large sum for a boatman to
get altogether in two months, and have
all the time to pay his own rent and support
his wife and her invalid father. But
I undertook it cheerfully; yet somehow
the season seems to have been the worst
I have had for a long time. Still, by eating
but one meal a day, and that light,
-- 056 --
[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]
by stinting ourselves in coal and other
ways, and Martha being diligent with her
needle besides, we had made up the sum
to within eleven shillings to-night, when
you came; and how the rest was to be
got, I could not see, though Martha bade
me trust in Providence, for, sir, she is
one of those who acts precisely as if she
was God's child, and believed he would
provide for her a great deal sooner and
better than an earthly father.'
`When are the sixty days up?'
`To-morrow, or rather to-day, sir, for
I just hear the old St. Giles striking the
first hour after midnight. Well, sir, as
I was desponding, for I had been to Mr.
Harrell and asked him if we could not
get the whole of the money if he would
take a part, but he had said nothing would
be received but the utmost penny; and
if it was not paid our poor father should
be sent back to prison. I begged him to
take me instead; but he, seeing it would
favor me, refused, demanding either the
money or my father's body at the time
appointed.'
`What did you say was the name of
this creditor?' asked the Earl, as the
skiff passed close under the stern of a
large ship.
`Harrell, sir.'
`Is he a brewer?'
`He was, sir, but now is a landlord.—
He lives opposite here, nearly, and I
have often ferried him over, till he put
the old man in prison, since when he always
takes some other wherryman.'
`I know the man. What time to-morrow
are you to pay him?'
`At six o'clock, sir. And I am thankful
as I said to you, sir, that I can by this
night's work, have more than enough.—
I shall always trust in Providence after
this, as Martha says.'
The boat now came near the stairs,
and Martin, trailing his oars which were
secured in the rowlocks by iron pivots,
sprung forward to fend off and fasten the
skiff. He then with his boat-hook brought
the stern round, and offering his arm assisted
his passenger to alight upon the
steps.
The Earl looked round for his valet,
and discovering the faint glimmer of a
light under a coal shed, he pointed it out
to Martin, who opened the door and saw
the lacquey fast asleep, with the lantern
hugged in his arms.
`Come, Paul Layton,' cried Martin,
giving him a shake, at which the sleeper
sprung to his feet. `Here is your master.
A fine watchman you are to show
us the pier-stairs with you lantern. But
we fortunately did'nt need it, as the stars
are out bright enough.'
`I beg pardon, my lord.'
`No matter. Go before with the lantern,
' said the Earl. `Proceed directly
to the house of the boatman, as I shall
stop there an instant. Have you pen and
ink, good Martin?'
`I have, your Lordship,' answered
Martin, who now saw from Paul's words,
who had been his passenger.
`I wish to write a line. Hasten and
get it for me.'
Paul ran forward, and finding his door
fast, called, `Martha, Martha. Open
quickly. I am returned in safety.'
`Thank God,' answered his young wife,
throwing herself fairly into his arms, and
kissing him on both cheeks with joy at
seeing him. `I trembled, but I knew
you would come back.'
`Here is his lordship close by. He
wants pen and paper, dear wife,' said
Martin. `Don't let him wait.'
`Not a moment,' she answered hastening
to a desk and opening it.
At the same moment the Earl came in,
and addressing Martin, said:
`My brave fellow, here is your reward
for the services you have done me tonight,
' and as he spoke he placed in his
hands a bank-note.
-- 057 --
[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]
`My Lord, you are mistaken. It is
for fifty pounds. Besides, you have given
me a guinea, and you promised me only
two.'
`I know the value of the note I have
given you, my honest fellow,' replied the
Earl. `It is none too much for your
merit. Take it, and make yourself and
your family more comfortable.'
`My good, generous, noble benefactor,'
cried Martin, with emotion. `See, Martha.
Here is a gift of fifty pounds. Let
us thank his Lordship on our knees.'
`No, my good fellow, no. If you speak
more about it, you will offend me. Take
and use it. I know you will use it well.
Have you the ink and pen, good mistress?'
`It is here, your Lordship,' answered
the happy, bewildered Martha, placing a
chair at a small table, on which she had
neatly spread pen, ink and paper.
The Earl sat down and wrote for a
few moments, during which time Martin
and his wife were whispering, smiling together
behind him, and looking the very
picture of happiness and gratitude.
In the door of the inner room was visible,
the venerable form of the father,
gazing with surprise upon the scene; and
upon the hearth was Paul, in his stout
weather-coat, and with the lantern in his
hand, looking as if he participated in the
happiness of the waterman and his wife.
Martha seeing her father, ran softly to
him, so as not to interrupt the generous
nobleman, and displayed to him the guinea
and fifty pound note. The old man looked
at them with surprise, rubbing his
eyes, as if to make sure that he saw
rightly. And when she whispered as
she embraced him—`They are ours,
dear father; you are free and we are all
to be happy together,' he clasped his
hands and raised his eyes in thankful
adoration to Heaven.
`There, honest Martin. When six o'clock
to-morrow comes, remain you at
home here, quietly. This creditor, finding
you are not at his house, will not be
long in coming here, hoping, no doubt,
to have the satisfaction of again throwing
your father into prison; for he would
rather do this than have the money. I
know Mr. Harrell well. He would never
have consented to his release, if he had
not hoped to have you in his power also.
He is a hard man, and delights in the
exercise of a cruel disposition. He would
rather extract a scene of tears from a
poor man's eyes, than so many pearls
from his purse. The man hoped by temporarily
surrendering one victim, to get
three. Keep this paper. To-morrow
when he comes, just simply present it to
him. It will be all sufficient. You will
see its effects.'
Thus speaking, Lord Percival, who had
so truthfully given proof of his claim to be
called a nobleman, placed the paper in
Martin's hand, and then nodding to his
servant to precede him, bade them all a
kind good night and left the house. Martin
followed him with his eyes till he saw
the lantern disappear at the corner of a
street, when closing his door he turned
towards Martha and said fervently,
`God bless that good nobleman, Martha!
'
`Amen to that as often as you will say
it, dear Martin;” answered his wife
warmly. `I can scarcely realize it!—
Fifty pounds!'
`And a guinea,' added Martin.
`What have you done to earn it?—
But you never could have earned it.'
`No; it was a free gift, Martha.
Somehow I got to telling his lordship about
my business, and then I told him what
happiness he had brought to us by his
coming to call for the boat and paying so
largely; and so when he put questions to
me I told him all about your father's imprisonment,
and what we have to pay to-morrow.
So he has presented us, in the
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[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]
benevolence of his noble heart, with this
large sum.'
`It was God put it into his heart, Martin,
and don't let us forget to thank him
for this wonderful providence and care
over us.'
`That I will not. But will it be any
harm to read what his lordship has written?
'
`No; it isn't sealed, Martin,' said his
wife. `Look, it isn't even folded. He
meant we should read it.'
`Then I will read it,' he answered,
approaching the light, while Martha leaned
over his shoulder, and their father,
resting on his staff, bent his white head
forward to listen, with his best ear turned
towards Martin. The boatman then read
aloud as follows:
`To Mr. Thomas Harrell,
Sir,—The bearer of this has informed
me, in an accidental manner, of his
obligations to you, and the circumstances
under which they were entered into. I
need not say I am surprised at hearing
the facts. They are characteristic of
yourself. You will, upon reading this,
give him a receipt in full for all and whatsoever
claim upon him or the father you
may hold; the incarceration and long illness
consequent thereupon having in
equity fully cancelled your debt.
I am, &c. &c.
Percival.'
`Was there ever!' exclaimed Martha,
raising both hands in amazement and
gratitude. `How wonderfully things do
turn out!'
`It is very extraordinary,' cried Martin.
`That man is in Lord Percival's power,'
said the old man. `Perhaps his lordship
has given him business, which it would
ruin him if he should take it from him.'
`No matter, father—no matter how it
be,' said Martin with a thick voice and a
full heart; `we are blessed, and I see the
finger of Providence in it.'
`I am glad to hear you confess a Providence
at last, Martin,' said his young
wife.
`I should be a heathen not to do it!
But this blessing comes of your faith, and
I share in it when I should have been punished
for my unbelief. But I will never
despair again!'
`It makes me as happy as the fifty
pounds and the guinea to hear you say
that, Martin,' said Martha joyfully. `Now
let us not retire this night without giving
thanks to the source of every good gift.'
It was a grateful sacrifice that ascended
from around that humble hearth-stone.
It was an offering of gratitude and praise
from hearts overflowing with peace and
joy. The trembling words of the venerable
father as he lifted up his voice in
thanksgiving, and acknowledged the dependence
of all creatures upon his Divine
Bounty, were living with faith and piety.
The instrument which God had made use
of—the noble lord—to bless them, was
not forgotten. Blessings without number
were invoked upon his head.
The next day how cheerfully Martin
went to his labors upon the water. His
wherry seemed to partake of the bounding
joy of his heart, and literally to fly
over the surface of the river. Every fellow
craftsman was distanced that day;
and louder and more cheerry than any
other's was Martin's oar-song.
At six o'clock that day he was at home
and sat down to his supper. He had
earned but five shillings during the day,
so that he saw, with tearful gratitude as
he thought of Lord Percival's gift, that
but for him he would have been unable
to have made up the twenty pounds.
He had half got through supper, each
one listening with beating hearts—beating
with joy not with fear—for the least
-- 059 --
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sound! Suddenly the door was thrown
open and the creditor, a small, thin man,
with a sharp nose and little whity blue
eyes, a cruel and avaricious visage, entered.
He was closely followed by an
officer.
`Well, Master Martin, no money, hey!
Come then old man!' and he proceeded
to lay his hand upon the shoulder of his
late victim.
-- 060 --
CHAPTER IX. THE MARQUIS AND HIS CONFESSION.
[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]
Martin at once placed himself between
the brewer and his father-in-law, and said
with a firm and calm countenance,
`Do not be too much in a hurry, sir.
My father intends to remain with us.'
`Then where is your money for me?'
asked Harrell with a smile of surprize
and anger. `But I see you have not got
it, and only want to gain time. Officer,
do your duty, and take that old man to
prison.'
`Not so fast, not so fast, Mr Harrell,'
said the boatman with a smile of contempt
and conscious power. `Here is a
paper that will probably change the face
of things a little.'
As he spoke he placed the paper that
the Earl had left with him, in the creditor's
hands. Harrell took it with a
sneer, doubtless regarding it as some
note or renewed bond. But no sooner
had he glanced at the writing and cast
his eyes upon the signature, than his color
fled, and an expression of mingled fear
and shame took possession of his feat
ures. Martin and Martha fixed their
eyes upon him, and noticed his emotion
wtth no little pleasure. It assured them
that they had no longer any reason to
fear their enemy. He read rapidly the
few lines and then with a brow fearfully
scowling, turned upon them.
`Where did you get this? How came
you to see Lord Percival?' he demanded
trembling with rage.
`He wrote it here, last night,' answered
Martin. `I took him off to, and
brought him back from a vessel in the
river. I told him of your oppression and
he wrote that at the table there in the
corner, and desired me to give it to you
when you came for the money.'
`Very well. It is expedient for certain
reasons that I comply with his lordship's
request. But you have made me
your enemy—beware how you fall into
my power, you or the old man.'
`I shall take good care of that,' answered
Martin, as Harrell accompanied
by the officer, left the house muttering
vengeance against those he had hoped to
have in his hands.
-- 061 --
[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]
`Now thank God for this, Martha,'—
exclaimed the boatman as he closed the
door after their departure. `We have
escaped as it were from the hands of the
Philistines.'
`I fear some other poor persons will
suffer for our exemption. He is sure to
vent his spite upon somebody. How
grateful we ought to be indeed. How
truly noble is Lord Percival.'
The nobleman to whom they were in
the fulness of their hearts offering tribtes
of gratitude, after he quitted the
humble abode of the waterman, walked
rapidly along the quay preceded by
Paul with a lantern. After passing the
entrance of one street, they came to a
narrow winding lane, which led by a
serpentine course between rows of lofty
dingy buildings towards one of the most
elegant thoroughfares in the city.
`We will take this way, Paul,' said
the Earl, `it is nigher.
Paul turned into it, and on account of
the narrowness of the sidewalks, they
were both compelled to take the middle
of the alley. After a few hundred yards
they emerged upon a broad street, dimly
lighted with lamps at long intervals.—
the ediflces upon it were of a large and
uniform choracter. They were chiefly
occupied by the nobleman of the House
of Lords and their families during the
session of Parliament, In their immediate
vicinity was the Palace.
The Earl and his servant passed along
this street a few rods, until they came to
a very noble mansion, above the portico
of which was suspended a lamp that shed
its beams upon a flight of marble steps
that ascended to the main entrance.—
This house was immediately contiguous
to the palace itself, before which could
be seen passing to and fro, the indistinct
form of the sentry on guard. Up the
steps Paul conducted the Earl and with
a pass-key opened the door for him, and
stood aside to let him enter.
`I shall not need your services further
to night, Paul! You can go to bed and
sleep but on your way to your room you
can rouse up Julian and send him into
the library to me.'
Paul closed and locked the street
door and bowing in obedience to his master's
commands disappeared by a door
at the end of the hall. His lordship then
ascended the stairs which were winding
spacious and ornamented with niches in
which stood statues and by pictures hung
upon the walls. A candle or two burning
in a chandelier that hung in the elegant
and lofty hall cast the light upon
them with just sufficient strength to show
that they were exquisite works of art.—
Half way to the left of the flight was a
landing place where was a door ajar.—
This the Earl opened and through it
passed into a large and superb library,
furnished with all the luxuries for literary
indulgence, with all those elegancies
which a man of highly cultivated tastes
loves to gather around him in his retirement,
A silver lamp with a beaked
tube, burned upon a marble table. Upon
the rug before the grate, in which
still glowed a cheerful fire, crouched a
large brown Newfoundland dog in an attitude
at once graceful and dignified.
Upon hearing the earl's step, he raised
his majestic head and turning upon him
a sleepy but affectionate glance, he gently
wagged his tail and resumed again
his former attitude with his nose resting
upon his fore-paws. In a velvet arm-chair
opposite the grate, sat, or rather
reclined, a youth of sixteen or seventeen
years of age, fast asleep; his head fallen
upon one shoulder, one foot hanging over
the arm of the chair and the other resting
upon the shaggy back of the dog. He
was a very handsome boy, with brown,
flowing curls shading his cheek and
neck; and lips so ruby that a maiden
might have envied them. His dress was
-- 062 --
[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]
very rich and tasteful, consisting of a
green spencer of silk, embroidered with
gold thread, a deep collar of the finest
mecklin lace turned back over his shoulder;
trowsers, or rather short clothes of
lemon colored velvet, tied at the knee
with green and orange tinted ribbons; his
stockings were snowy white and fastened
below the knee by a garter studded with
emeralds; and in his shoes sparkled a
pair of diamond buckles. Upon the table
by his side lay a jaunty scarlet cap with
a snow-white feather in it, the brim of
the cap looped up in front and fastened
by a diamond. Altogether he was a very
gay and agreeable pattern of a page to a
nobleman of the reign of which we write.
Upon discovering him the earl ejaculated,
`Ah, Julian is here. He has sat up
for me and gone to sleep watching. I
will let him sleep it out. It is now three
o'clock. I will not go to the palace until
sun-rise. I need repose also. The information
I have obtained to-night can
be communicated in the morning.'
Leaving the nobleman to seek brief repose
after the exciting scenes and events
of the night, we will now go back a few
hours and explain the circumstances
which led him to go off to the smuggling
schooner and seek his interview with the
crown's prisoner, Bonfield.
About four hours previous to the time
when he applied to the door of Martin
the boatman in the storm, desiring him to
launch his boat upon the wild waters, he
was seated in the very library where we
now find him returned, when a messenger
came in and seemingly in great disturbance
handed him a note. He tore it
open and read simply as follows:
`My lord,
`I have but a few hours to live. I
must see you before I die. Let nothing
prevent your hastening to me without a
moment's delay.
`Yours, in great suffering,
`ROSS.'
`What means this, sir?' demanded the
earl of the bearer, who wore the livery of
the nobleman who had written to him.
`Can it be possible lord Ross is at the
point of death? This is sudden. What
has happened to him?'
`He ruptured a blood vessel after dinner,
as he was getting in his carriage to
go to the House,' answered the bearer.
`The surgeons say he cannot live through
the night.'
`Say to my lord that I will follow you
at once,' answered the earl.
The man had no sooner departed than
earl Percival called to his page, who was
quietly amusing himself at a game of
solitare in the window recess.
`My lord,' answered the lad, coming
forward.
`Fly to the Duke of — with this
note which I am writing, and make no
delay.' What he wrote was as follows:
`I hasten to inform your Royal Highness
that lord Ross has ruptured a blood
vessel and lies at the point of death. He
has sent for me to see him without delay.
What the nature of his communication
with me may be I cannot even surmise,
especially as we have not been on any
terms for years. After the interview I
will wait on your Royal Highness.
Percival.'
The page took the note and instantly
departed with it. The earl then ordered
his carriage, and in a few moments was
driving towards the residence of the dying
nobleman. As he went he cast over in
his mind what could be the object of this
urgent demand to see him. The two noblemen
had been for years in opposite
parties, and at one time leaders of the
opposition. Lord Ross had many years
ago been the chief man of the realm in
political influence and power. The national
will was guided and controlled by
his. His voice decided the fate of millions.
He was second only to the crown,
-- 063 --
[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]
yet more powerful than the throne itself.
The nation bowed to his supremacy and
committed itself confidingly into his
hands. By his own talents he had elevated
himself to this dizzy height, and by
his own commanding intellect he held it
in the face of opposition. His political
enemies called him deceitful, a traitor, a
base man. His friends, the warmest
among which was the throne itself, upon
which he leaned and at the same time
upheld, pronounced him the conservative
spirit of the realm. Such was the character
and splendid elevation of the marquis
of Ross.
The Earl of Percival came into power
some few years subsequent to the period
when lord Ross was at the summit of his.
They belonged to opposite parties. The
fall of lord Ross was at length mainly
brought about by the influence of lord
Percival. The latter rose upon the ruins
of his rival, and with him rose a new
ministry, while the former, with their
chief, retired almost altogether from public
life. There were one or two exceptions,
and one of these was the marquis
himself, who still endeavored to fan into
flame the dying embers of the late dominant
faction. But he failed; and at
length wholly withdrew from political
contests, simply contenting himself with
his seat and opposition vote in the House
of Lords.
Between him and the Earl of Percival
there had been no intercourse for many
years, save a formal bow of recognition
when meeting in public. The Earl was
therefore surprised to get from him the
note which he had received, containing
so urgent a request to see him. He was
also grieved to learn the imminent danger
he was in; for the Earl was a man
who never carried his political feelings
so far as to change them into personal
animosities.
The carriage at length stopped in front
of the mansion of the Marquis, and the
Earl alighting, was received by a footman,
who replied in a low voice to his
inquiry, that his master was rapidly failing.
The nobleman followed him into
the bed-chamber of the ambitious politician,
now about to pass through the last
scene of man's life. The large and sumptuous
apartment was darkened, and the
absence of the light of day was supplied
by a lamp shaded and softened by a globe
of ground glass. There was a surgeon
seated by the bedside, and one or two attendants
standing near.
`Who is it? Is it Percival?' asked
the Marquis carnestly, as the Earl entered,
and speaking in a tone that showed
how anxious he was for his arrival.
`Yes, my lord,' answered the surgeon,
Sir Edward —, rising; `but do not
suffer yourself to speak with such earnestness.
You must talk but little, and
very low.'
`My dear sir Edward,' said the Marquis,
when seeing that it was the Earl
Percival, `I pray you leave me and call
again in an hour. My servants will also
leave the chamber.'
`I obey your lordship,' answered the
surgeon; `but I beg you will not talk too
much. A few minutes only at the farthest.'
`Do not dictate to me,' answered the
Marquis in an impatient tone. `My lord,'
he added to the Earl, as the latter slowly
advanced towards the bed, `I am glad
you are come. This is no time for ceremonies.
Please to be seated, and let me
talk with you a little while. Good by,
Sir Edward. In an hour you may drop
in again.'
`Do not suffer him to talk much, my
lord,' said the surgeon to the Earl, as he
went out. `He cannot live many hours,
and excitement might put him out all at
once like a candle.'
`I will try to comply with your wish,
doctor,' said the Earl, `but I did not come
-- 064 --
[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]
on an idle visit, having been sent for.
But I trust, as he is so low, to be detained
for a few minutes.'
The Earl and the Marquis, the two
once great leaders of national parties;
the one fallen and near to his end, the
other still in the splendor of his power.
`My lord,' said the Marquis, `sit down.
This is a strange meeting for us. But
the approach of death alters one's feelings
wonderfully. I am obliged to you
for coming to see me so promptly. I
have something upon my mind which I
cannot die without revealing, and in some
way opening a way for atonement to the
innocent and wronged. I have selected you
as the most suitable person to make the
confession to; for I have always done
homage in my heart to your wisdom, your
worth, and your integrity. Nay, my
lord, for these high qualities which so
adorn your administration, I have hated
you. But let all this pass. The surgeon
says I shall not last till morning. My
last breath shall be devoted to an effort
to right the wronged.'
`I fear your lordship will exert yourself
too much; yet I am prepared to hear
what you wish to say.'
`If I turn over and die with the last
words of my confession on my lips, my
lord, I shall die happy, and have lived
to-night to better purpose than if without
revealing it to you, I should linger for
years.'
The Marquis then raised himself in his
bed without an effort, and sat up; his
face pale and haggard, and his dark somrer
eyes, bright with the light that comes
from beyond the grave, turned upon the
sympathizing countenance of the Earl.
`My lord,' he said firmly, yet in a
hollow tone of voice, I wish you to understand
that what I am about to say is
every word truth. Believe it all, for I
shall not feel myself able to enter into
any particular explanations. But these
will suggest themselves to your mind.
You were not yet prominently in political
life twenty years ago, when I was at the
head of affairs, but, doubtless are familiar
with the history of my administration?
of the iniquity of some parts of that period
of power may Almighty God pardon
me when I appear before him. But you
shall hear all, my lord. I had been a
few months in the high position which I
held, and which you now so honorably
fill, when I was sent for by the king to
hasten to the palace. As it was near the
time of the Queen's accouchment which
was hourly looked for, I supposed that
this event was at hand, especially, as I
saw the messenger proceed to the palace
of a nobleman next door, who, with myself
and others, were the persons distinguished
to be present on that occasion,
as is customary.
I at once hastened to the palace, and
met the king in the first ante-room. He
was pale as death, and looked as if he
was under the strongest excitement.
Taking hold of me by the arm he led me
without saying a word into his cabinet,
and closing the door, said,
`My lord, an event has occurred that
will involve England in trouble after I
am no more. The Queen has been suddenly
taken in labour, and not half an
hour ago gave birth to twins! She is
doing well and I have despatched messengers
to the court physicians, &c. But
before they arrive it is expedient that
one of the children be secretly removed.
The birth of two is known only to the
nurse who was with the Queen, and to
myself.'
`Which was the eldest, your Majesty?'
I asked, as soon as I could recover from
my surprise.
`The female. Now, my lord, let this
infant be at once taken away, before it is
discovered that the Queen has twin children.
Let it be tenderly nurtured; but
-- 065 --
[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]
the knowledge of its birth for ever kept
from it. Seek out without delay a suitable
person to take it from its mother,
who with the nurse, shall be made to suppose
that it is dead. Will you agree to
this? The peace of the realm seems to
require it, my lord. For when they
grow up, there will be factions about
their succession, and England will again
be deluged with blood on account of its
kings.'
`I will obey your Majesty,' I answered;
for I saw, with the King, that the existence
of twins both equal claimants t
the throne would, if they were both acknowledged,
unquestionably lead to civil
wars in another generation, precisely
like the hundred other civil wars about
the succession of which, England has been
the theatre. I saw that the King was
wise in taking this view of the matter,
and at once, without hesitation assented
to his suggestion. His Majesty then
pressed my hand in token of his gratitude,
and going into the next room in a few
moments returned, bearing in his arms
the female infant closely wrapped.
`Take it my lord, and without delay
bear it to the house, No. — Albermarle
street, where lives a woman who
applied yesterday to the palace to be one
of the wet nurses, when the Queen should
be confined. She will gladly take the
child; but by no means let her know
whence it comes. For the safety of the
child afterwards, I shall carefully look,
for though policy commands me to take
this painful step, I shall never forget that
I am the helpless infant's parent. It
shall never suffer aught of evil, save the
loss of the crown.'
`I then, my Lord Percival,' resumed
the Marquis, `carefully bore the child to
my carriage, and drove to the house designated,
which was about five minutes
ride. I fortunately found the woman at
home and placed the child, with a purse
of fifty guineas in her lap, saying to her,
`Protect and nourish this infant, and
in a few days you will hear from me
again.'
`I then hastened to the palace. By
this time the rumour that the Queen had
been prematurely confined, and that a
prince was born, had flown throughout
the palace. All was excitement and joy,
and congratulations, I met the two Court
physicians who arrived as I did, and also
saw two of the lords whose duty it was
to have been present at the accouchment.[1]
I found his Majesty in his cabinet with
two or three noblemen. Upon seeing
me he looked inquiringly, and upon my
answering his glance in the affirmative,
he smiled and appeared relieved from
deep anxiety. In a short time I was enabled
to see the King alone. He then
informed me that he had made known to
the nurse, that she must keep the birth of
the female infant a secret, as it might
not live, and that he had taken it away
to give it to a nurse in waiting, to take
charge of it. The woman promised
secrecy; and `as for the Queen' continued
his Majesty, `she paid no attention
to what I did. The nurse will be faithful,
of that be assured,' he said, impressively.
`I will not detain your Lordship,' said
the dying Marquis, `with entering into
details. Suffice it to say, that the secret
was faithfully kept by the nurse; and as
she was made to understand a few days
after, that the female infant had not lived,
there was nothing more to be feared from
that quarter. The Queen was also led
to believe the same; and the people at
large only knew of the birth of a prince.'
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[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]
Here the Marquis paused, and for some
moments rested to recover energy sufficient
to proceed. The Earl watched him
with deep anxiety; for having heard so
much of this singular revelation, he was
deeply interested to hear all that remained
to be revealed. His surprise at the
confession of the Marquis thus far, cannot
be adequately expressed in words.
`What became of the infant, my Lord
Marquis? Did it die?' he asked with
much earnestness.
`No, my Lord. After remaining with
the woman to whom I had taken it about
six weeks, by the King's order I removed
it into the country and gave it in charge
to a young married woman, whose husband
used to be an under park-keeper to
the crown. This female the King had
personally, yet privately selected; though
she was ignorant whose child she received
to nurture. The woman who first
took it also, was wholly unsuspicious;
for, as I have said, there was no suspicion
anywhere, that a princess had been born
twin with the Prince. The nurse and
the Queen both believed it dead, and by
the King's request, were ever after silent,
upon the subject. The King, who felt
that he was doing the infant a wrong,
though from what he considered the best
of motives, peace and tranquility to the
kingdom, was deeply solicitous to have
the infant carefully nurtured, and told me
that he believed in his heart that he should
love it after all, better than he ever should
the Prince. The child thrived wonderfully.
It was my part to visit it once a
month at the King's desire, which I did
do, disguised as a London merchant, in
which character I had placed it with the
park-keeper. The King would often
ride out, ostensibly to hunt, and passing
by the cottage, stop to look at the child,
covering his parental curiosity and affection,
under a request for a glass of water,
or some message for the Park-keeper.—
But now, my lord, comes the deep guilt
which I have to confess, and which must
be spoken out before I can die.' This
was said with a bitter moan, and with a
look of deep contrition.
eaf197.n1[1] By a law of the realm, three or four Privy
Councillors must be present in an adjoining
apartment to the Queen's, when she is confined.
This is to prevent deception. History
shows the expediency of such a provision for
securing to the crown heirs of legitimate royal
blood.
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CHAPTER X. THE CONFESSION OF THE MARQUIS.
[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]
The Marquis remained for a few minutes
silent, as if greatly exhausted with
talking; but, at length, with a strong effort
he gathered strength, and thus resumed
his confession to Lord Percival.
`I have said, my lord, that I have to
reveal to you an act of deep guilt that
weighs upon my conscience and will not
let me die in peace. You shall hear
what it was, and I hope that yet atonement
may in some degree be made, if
the object of my wicked cruelty and ambition
yet lives. I have already said that
the king was deeply, painfully interested
in the safety and comfort of the cast off
princess. He seemed daily to love it
more and more, and I could perceive, at
length, that it was in his thoughts and
heart far more than the prince. He never
spoke of it without some epithet of
pity and love, such as `the poor little
one'—`the sweet exile'—`the unfortunate
princess!' I could see that he was
becoming exceedingly nervous upon the
subject; and finally one day when I came
into the cabinet I found him greatly agitated.
I respectfully asked him the cause
of his grief, when he answered almost
sternly,—
`Do you ask me such a question, my
lord Marquis? Am I not miserable on
account of my poor little one? I cannot
sleep, my lord. The prince is almost
hateful in my sight. I have no affection
save for the princess. I have resolved.'
`What has your majesty resolved?'
I asked apprehensively, beginning to have
a suspicion of the truth.
`To acknowledge the princess before
the nation and the world. I can endure
this torture of conscience no longer.'
`Judge my amazement and consternation,
my lord Percival,' added the marquis,
`at these words. I endeavored to
dissuade the king from a step so fatal to
his honor, to his character, to the peace
of the realm. I assured him that all men
would stamp him with ignominy; that his
present acknowledgement of the princess
could not make the people forget or think
less of the act, of which he had been deliberately
guilty, of disinheriting her from
her birth. But his majesty was deaf to
all my entreaties, arguments and appeals.
He had firmly made up his mind, and I
saw that it would be impossible to move
him from his purpose.
`This determination, my lord, I have
now to confess,' continued the Marquis,
`was the more disagreeable to me from
the fact that I had already formed in my
own mind a bold and ambitious project
with reference to this friendless child;
and the king's resolution would over-throw
it, as well as involve me in the infamy
which would attach to himself from
the public recognition he contemplated;
for I knew the world would blame me
for concealing the birth of the princess,
and attribute the whole proceeding to my
advice and influence. On this account
alone, therefore, I would resolutely have
opposed the course now meditated by
his majesty. But, as I have hinted, I
-- 068 --
[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]
had a profounder motive. Ambition lay
at the bottom of it. I had a son, my
lord Percival, who was then in his
seventh year. I one day cast my eyes
upon him and in contemplating his future
career through life, an idea suddenly
flashed upon me. I cherished it, fed it,
thought upon it night and day, at length
fully matured it and resolved to direct all
my energies to bring about the ambitious
result which it held out to me. My project
was to take an opportunity of spiriting
away the infant princess, conveying
it to some remote place and there bringing
her up in ignorance of her birth. I
intended that the king should be led to
believe that it died in the cottage of the
park-keeper. When the princess should
have reached her sixteenth birth day I
intended to solemnize a marriage between
her and my son, whom I should previously
inform of the rank of his bride, and
whom I intended to educate for a throne.
The princess, on the contrary, I intended
to have brought up until her tenth year in
total ignoranee even of the letters of the
alphabet, and perfectly secluded from all
intercourse with others. At that age I
intended to remove her from those I
should place her with to my own house
and personally begin her education. By
this time the king would not suspect she
was his child even if he saw her at my
house, as I intended to pass her off as an
orphan whom I had adopted. My object
in keeping her from books and the society
of others was that when she came
into my hands her mind might be a perfect
blank upon which I could write
what I pleased. I intended to educate
her in my own way in politics, in religion
and in every thing which would bear in
my favor in the future destiny I had
marked out for her and my son. In a
word, my lord, I intended through her
when the king should die to raise up a
powerful rival to the Prince Royal and
by means of a revolution place the crown
jointly upon her head and that of my son.
You look astounded, my lord!'
`And well I may. And did you carry
out any portion of this scheme of ambition,
my lord marquis?' asked the earl,
with a countenance marked with the profoundest
surprise, not unmingled with horror
at the wickedness which was being
developed in the dying confession of the
marquis.
`You shall hear, my lord. Finding
that I could not persuade the King to
give up his fatal purpose, I made up my
mind. I appeared to assent, and then
subtlely asked his Majesty to give me a
writing, under his own royal hand, that,
if I brought the princess back to the palace,
and the public recognition was promulgated,
he would clear me of all blame
in the original act of disinheritance.—
This he said he would do. I suggested
that he should write it then, and he at
once sat down and penned the instrument,
which you will see here, my lord. As
the King is no more, I shall do him no
wrong in showing it.
Here the marquis drew from beneath
his pillow a paper, which he placed in
the hands of the astonished Lord Percival.
The earl opened it and read as
follows:—
`I hereby do exonerate Edgar, Marquis
of Ross, from all and every blame
in the matter touching the wicked disinheritance
of the Princess Virginia, who
I acknowledge to be the twin sister of
the prince royal, and I, with great joy,
am this day to invest in all her rights and
privileges as eldest born heir to the
crown.'
`This instrument was signed and sealed
by the late King; and when the earl
had read it, he folded it up with looks of
amazement and replaced it in the trembling
hand of the marquis, who anxiously
extended it for its return.
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“That instrument,' he resumed, `the
King wrote from my lips. My object in
getting it from him, my lord, was not to
clear myself, for I had resolved the
child should never be acknowledged. It
was to show to the people some fifteen
years afterwards, in proof of the legitimacy
of the princess in whose behalf I was to
rouse the nation to arms. I had also the
testimony of the nurse, which I artfully
obtained the same night I left the King's
presence. Upon quitting the King, I
hastened to an apothecary's and purchased
a harmless medicine, and, with it
in my pocket-book, hastened to the
house of the park-keeper. I found the
infant princess in blooming health. It
was then about nine months old, and a
very lovely child it was. Taking advantage
of the nurse's confidence in me, I
took it in my arms and walked into the
garden with it, the park-keeper's wife
supposing me to be a London merchant,
its father; as I had represented myself
to her to be such, and a widower who
could not take care of so young a child
myself. While in the garden I placed a
lozenge in the mouth of the child, and
let it suck it for a few moments. I then
removed it, and soon after, returning the
babe to the woman, left to ride up to the
palace at Windsor. At the end of three
hours I returned. As I anticipated, the
woman called to me in great distress, and
said that the child was taken suddenly
very ill an hour before, and she was
alarmed for its life. I returned to London
and informed the King that the child
was too ill to be removed. He was
greatly afflicted, and resolved to visit it
himself. He went down the same night
to Windsor, and thence, in disguise,
hastened to the cottage. He found my
report corroborated. The next day, while
the King was in his bed-chamber, and
was preparing to visit the princess, I
brought him the report of the child's
death. He took it very bitterly, and at
the moment resolved he would still acknowledge
it, and it should be buried
with royal honors. This I firmly opposed,
assuring him that no good could
now come from such a step, and that
only disgrace before his people would result.
He at length saw the matter in this
light, and bade me have the child decently
buried and never speak to him of it
again. I had accomplished my object,
though with not a little difficulty. I hastened
to the house of the under park-keeper
and found the child as I had left
it an hour before, in a state of torpor like
that of death. The woman was weeping
over it. I told her I should take it up to
London in my carriage, and have it
placed in my tomb there. I rewarded her
largely. I took the child away wrapped
in my cloak, and drove off for the town.'
`And did the child survive?' asked the
earl with painful and deep interest.
`Your lordship shall learn. I had been
a few days before this to an exhibition of
the Deaf and Dumb Asylum. I had been
interested in the intelligence and reason
they displayed, and I was particularly
struck with one young woman, who, I
was told, was an orphan and much beloved
for her sweetness of disposition.—
When a man is forming a project, my
lord, every advantage that belongs naturally
to his purpose comes to his mind.
He seizes readily and instincttvely upon
ideas that hours of inventive meditation
would not have suggested to him. When
I decided upon abducting the child to
make it, at some future day, the stepping-stone
to the throne of my own family,
I conceived the idea of placing it in
charge of a mute nurse. This notion
was suggested to me by my visit to the
institution; for the mind, when active,
makes use of everything that falls within
the scope of its observation. I saw in
such a nurse the seal of secresy. I saw
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[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]
also the very person who could bring up
the child in ignorance, and almost without
intelligence, until the time came for
me to take the plastic and unworked material
and mould it at my will.
`The idea had no sooner been conceived
than I resolved to carry it out.—
When, therefore, I got the child into my
hands, I drove it over to my residence in
London. It revived, however, ere I
reached town, as I made use of the antidote
to the medicament I had given it,
as soon as I got it into the carriage.—
When I reached my house it was living,
thongh pale; for it had been suffering.
I left the child in charge of my house-keeper,
saying I had found it on the road
and should in the morning send it to the
Asylum for refuge. I then drove to the
Institutien for mutes, entered into an engagement
with the principal to be the
future protector of the orphan young woman,
who had so much interested me
before.'
`Did you give her name, my Lord?'
asked the Earl.
`Yes. I took the young woman away
with me, but previously desiring the principal
to inform her, that she was to take
charge of an infant, and perhaps go upon
the sea. At this the young woman seemed
to be gratified, and willingly went with
me. In the vicinity of London was a
small farm house, the tenant of which
was an old man who had once been my
father's coachman. I took the young
woman and child to his abode, and left
them in charge of the old man and his
wife.
`Still I was uneasy. I was fearful
that by some reasons, the fact might get
abroad, and reach the ears of the King;
for as with all guilty men, I believed that
I was suspected. The old man, too,
seemed to be inquisitive about the young
woman and child; and I have no doubt
her being deaf and dumb, only prevented
the secret that she was not her own child,
as I had represented, from having been
divulged. But as she was deaf and
dumb, I could easily pass the child off
whenever I pleased as hers! for she
could never deny it!'
`This was a deep and acutely laid
scheme, my Lord! But I beg you will
proceed; for I have the greatest desire
to know the end of this extraordinary affair!
'
`I will not be long in coming to it, my
lord!' answered the Marquis with a deep
groan. `My fears at length became so
lively, lest the King should discover what
I had done, and thus defeat all my ambitious
hopes, as well as disgrace me,
that I came to the determination, which I
had before often thought upon, of sending
the child out of England. At length an
opportunity was offered, and I proceeded
to put my plan into execution. There
was residing in the Bermudas, my Lord,
a man who had been guilty of high treason,
and had forfeited his life to the crown.
It was Sir Robert Oakford!'
`The man who betrayed to the French
the destination of the fleet under Collingwood?
' exclaimed Lord Percy.
`Yes!'
`I supposed he had died in the tower,
the day before he was to have been executed!
'
`So all men supposed. He was pardoned
by the King at the earnest appeal
of his wife and children; and his sentence
was privately commuted to banishment
from England to the island of Bermuda.
His wife and family remained
on his estate under the King's eye, and
were securities for his submission to the
sentence of exile, and his constant residence
in the island. He was led to understand
before he was secretly taken
from the tower to embark, that any attempt
on his part to escape, would be
visited upon his wife and children, to
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[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]
whom we knew he was tenderly attached.
He had been gone but two months,
when his only sister followed him, resolved
to share his exile. He was allowed
from his own estate, three hundred
a year for his support. His penitence
and his submission being for a period of
three years fairly tested, I employed him
to act as a spy upon certain persons in
Bermuda, and he faithfully executed the
confidential missions entrusted to him.—
He had good cause to be true to me, for
at any moment he knew he might be
called to England and executed. Upon
this man I fixed for the future protector
of the infant princess! About the same
time I had heard through Admiral Collingwood,
of certain services the notorious
smuggler Vance, since, better known
as the outlaw Bonfield, had done the Admiralty
by taking despatches over to Nelson's
fleet. This information was not
lost upon me. I desired Collingwood to
send the man to me, as I had secret services
also, in which I should like to employ
such a man. I told the Admiral to
send him with his vessel to the Thames,
on a certain day. The smuggler was
there. I boarded him by night, and after
a brief interview with him, engaged
him for five thousand pounds to take the
woman and child to Bermuda, and leave
it in charge of the Oakfords. They were
conveyed on board, and the same night
he set sail.'
`And did he got to Bermuda?' asked
the Earl, earnestly, as the Marquis paused
to recover breath, for he was growing
weaker momently.
`Yes. He faithfully executed the trust
imposed upon him. The child remained
under Oakford's care until its sixth year,
and during the interval I had often heard
from it, and that it was doing well. I
also ascertained that Vance regularly
visited it, which I by no means liked;
for I wished him to forget the child. But
it seems he had taken a great fancy to
it, and came to see it from pure affection.
At length, apprehending that evil would
come of it, by and by, to my plans, I wrote
to Oakford, saying, he must secretly remove
from the island and go to Jamaica,
so that Vance might lose all clue to the
child. But my letter had not been a
week gone on its way, when I was thrown
into consternation by receiving one from
Oakford, informing me that the night before
he wrote, the buccanier, Bonfield,
had landed with a strong party, and forcibly
carried off the infant and the mute
nurse, leaving at the same time a note
for me, which he enclosed. Judge of
my surprise, my rage, my alarm! I
immediately conceived the suspicion that
Vance had some idea who the child was,
suspected my object, and stole it away,
with the intention of defeating it.'
`This same buccaneer is now captured
and his vessel is in the river!' cried the
Earl.
`I heard so to-day, and it was this
news that so agitated me as to bring on
the attack which will end my life, my
lord. I was told he was captured and
yesterday brought up to the city. I had
not heard from the infant princess from
the time she was stolen from Oakford up
to this day; and when I heard of the arrest
of the man who only could tell me
her fate. I became greatly excited, and
resolved that I would visit him as soon
as night came. But night finds me here,
dying!'
`What reason have you to suppose
she still lives, my lord?' asked the Earl;
for you said a short while since you had
reason to believe she was alive!'
`From what was told me by Oakford.
I sent for him to come to England and
let me know personally all the facts connected
with her disappearance. He then
told me that I once said so long as she
lives I should not hear from her; but
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[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]
whenever she died information should be
sent to me. This is my only hope, my
lord. Oh, that she were living that I
might make some atonement to the innocent
victim of my ambition. But for
me she would now have been on the
throne of the realm. I fear I shall never
be forgiven this iniquity, my lord. But,
what I have sent to thee for is, not to
confess to thee, but to urge thee to hasten
to this Bonfield and learn from him what
has become of the child. I implore you,
my lord, to urge him to revcal. Perhaps
something yet may be done, through
you, to undo the evil I have contemplated.
And my son too for whom I did this
wrong is dead. He was killed as you
know by a fall from a horse in a hunt.
All I wish to live for is to see this wronged
princess restored to her rights. But
I can never live to see it. I shall die
ere midnight. I am sinking fast, my
lord. I have spent my last strength in
confessing to you. Leave no means untried,
my lord, to find out and do justice
to the princess.'
`Believe me, my lord, when I solemnly
assure you, that I will make every
human effort to bring about this desirable
end. But she is probably no more.'
`Say not so, my lord,' cried the Marquis
in great anguish and horror of mind.
`Destroy not in my soul the hope that
she lives and will yet by your agency be
restored to her own. The king is dead.
Through me only could the knowledge
of her birth reach the nation.' Here his
utterance became thick and laboured.
He was death-struck. `In making it
to you I have done all I can do! My
lord, fare-well! Do not forget! My
salvation—hangs upon—her be-being—
alive!'
The unhappy nobleman threw out his
arms as if to save himself, like a person
falling from a height, and then fell back
ward and, struggling for a moment convulsively,
died!
Lord Percival regarded him for a few
seconds with pity not unmixed with horror.
At length he turned away, saying,
`So die the wicked! If my prayer be
not too late may God have mercy upon
his soul.'
The Earl then took from his hand the
paper which the king had signed, crossed
the room to the door, and opening it called
to the attendants, saying,
`Your lord has just expired!'
`The interview was too much for him,'
said the surgeon, coming in from the opposite
apartment; `I found it would
hasten his exit to to talk much. But he
could not have lived longer than morning.
In what a tempest of wind and
rain his spirit has flown. There died a
man who has long held a distinguished
place in the affairs of the nation, my
lord.'
`Yes,' answered the Earl, as he left
the chamber of death.
He at once hastened to his own palace,
and notwithstanding the violence of the
storm, which we have already described
in the opening of this story, he resolved
at once to put off to the schooner where
the bucanier or, more properly, the
smuggler was confined awaiting the order
to be removed to prison. But before
going he sat down and wrote two or three
notes, one of which was addressed to the
King.
We have seen the Earl arrive at the
abode of Martin the boatman attended by
his valet Paul and his departure under
the guidance of Martin for the schooner,
amid one of the most violent storms that
ever swept over the waters of the
Thames.
We have seen his arrival on board,
and witnessed his long interview with
Bonfield; and returned with him again
to the abode of the boatman. Here we
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[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]
have noticed his benevolence and the exercise
of his power over the wicked creditor
of the young waterman. From
thence we have followed him to his own
abode and to the retirement of his private
apartment.
We shall now proceed with our story
in an unbroken chain, advancing the
scenes to the following morning, when
the Earl rising hastened to the palace.
The mansion of the Earl of Percival
communicated with the palace by a private
passage, by means of which the prime
minister could at all times have easy access
to the cabinet of the king. He passed
from his own rooms through the hall,
opened a door which led into a narrow
entry, and thence by a flight of stairs to
a long stone passage. At the extremity
of this the nobleman came to a door which
he opened with a key that he took from
his pocket. It opened upon a flight of
steps well lighted by a gothic window,
and after passing along a paved corridor,
he found himself in the palace and near
the door of the ante-room to the king's
chamber.
As he was about to enter it he was met
by a large, noble-looking man, with grey
hair, and an aspect of command. It was
the Duke of —, to whom he had written
his note the night before.
`Good morning, my lord Duke,' he
said, as the latter stopped to address him.
`We are well met, my dear Earl,' answered
his royal highness. `What is
this news that you have, that you desired
me to meet you here so early? What
said Ross to you that he sent for you?
How is he?'
`He is dead, my lord Duke,' answered
the earl. `He unfolded to me an extraordinary
confession, which I feel it my
duty to lay before the king, and in your
royal highness's presence.'
`Then let us enter, my lord,' said the
duke, opening the door and going into the
ante-chamber. They had no sooner entered
than the king came from the inner
room and advanced with a smile towards
them. He was a princely-looking monarch,
tall and well-made, with an air of
royalty and dominion. He was young,
yet looked some years older than he really
was; for his countenance was habitually
grave and thoughtful.
`My royal cousin, you are welcome,
and you, my noble lord,' he said to them.
`You are come early to council; but I
have been expecting you, my dear Earl,
since I received the line from you last
evening. It was certainly mysterious
enough. I hope now we shall have it explained.
'
`I received, your majesty, a note something
similar with a message to meet his
lordship in the king's cabinet at half past
seven! I also feel some curiosity to
learn the meaning of it.'
`I suppose, gentlemen, you have heard
of the sudden death of the Marquis of
Ross,' said the King in a tone of regret.
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[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]
`Yes, your majesty,' answered Earl
Percival. `I was present at his death.
I was sent for by him to receive some
communication which he said he could
not die without making. And, your majesty,
a most wonderful communication it
was.'
`Pray do not be long in making it
known to us! Some development of
old wicked intrigues of state I doubt not,'
said the king, as he seated himself,
while he made a gesture for the two noblemen
also to sit.
`Your majesty shall be made acquainted
with the facts, and I have no doubt
that you will be the first to propose that
justice be done to the innocent.'
`The innocent shall never receive
wrong in all my realm, my lord, if the
king can make it right,' answered his
majesty with warmth and an expression
of benevolent resolution.
`Your majesty and you, my noble
Duke, will listen with amazement and
perhaps incredulity at what I am now
about to reveal; but I assure your majesty
that I have, before coming to you,
substantiated the confession of lord Ross
by proofs that are incontrovertible.'
The Earl then proceeded in a clear
and minute manner to relate to the young
monarch all that had been confessed to
him by the Marquis of Ross, and the subsequent
developments of Bonfield in attestation
of the truth of the dying noble's
account.
When he had finished, the king, who
had not listened without many interrupting
questions, rose up and for some moments
seemed to be lost in the astounding
thoughts with which this relation had
overwhelmed his mind. The Duke seemed
in the greatest agitation, and more
than once in the course of the Earl's account
of Ross's confession he had pronounced
it a false fabrication of that nobleman's,
to sow the seeds of dissention
in the kingdom after his death. To this
idea the king was also inclined. But
when lord Percival began to relate his
interview with Bonfield, who corroborated
fully the story of the marquis, then they
felt bound to believe the relation, incredible
as it seemed. But they listened
with strong emotion and profound amazement.
When the earl ended, there reigned for
full two minutes the most painful silence.
At length the marquis exclaimed,
`My lord Percival, this seems incredible.
It cannot be true. It is not true!
`We shall soon see,' answered the king
calmly and coming forward. `My lord
you spoke of a paper which the marquis
said he obtained from the late king, my
honored father. Have you the paper?'
`It is here, your majesty,' answered
the carl, placing the paper which he had
taken from the hand of the dead marquis
in the king's hands.
`It is my father's writing, cousin,' he
said to the duke.
`It is, your majesty, like it. But rather
than believe it was written by the
king, I will give the devil credit for it.—
It is a conspiracy of this Ross to over-throw
your majesty's throne!'
`If it be a conspiracy, couzin,' answered
the king in the same firm and quiet
way, `we must sift it and prove it so;
but if it be true, we must bow to the
power of truth. God forbid that I should
stand on the throne of England in the
place of another better entitled to it!—
My lord Percival, I know not how I shall
thank you for this promptness in making
this known to me. It is complimentary
to my integrity as a man. It causes me
to feel that you believed I would do justice
where facts convinced me that I was
doing injustice to another. I shall be
rejoiced to recover such a sister! My
heart already is moved with affection to
her unknown.'
-- 075 --
[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]
`But, your majesty,' said the Duke,
with high color, `you do not mean seriously
to investigate this singular affair?
What would be the good of it to her,
brought up in ignorance of her birth, or
to your majesty. Indeed, it would be ruin
to your reign, and bring, perhaps, great
mischief upon the land. It is my advice,
your majesty, that you have this pirate
Bonfield executed at once, and let the
memory of the facts he is witness to
perish with him. The peace of the Empire
demands this of your majesty. The
people of England would not thank you
to abdicate the throne to a stranger, and
that stranger a woman. Half the nation
would deny her title, deny that she was
bona fide the very twin princess that was
cast forth from the palace!'
`Not a word, cousin!' said the king
severely. `I will do right, whatever be
the issue. Still there is some doubt on
my mind. This doubt I will remove at
once by application to the Queen dowager,
my honored mother. Excuse me,
my noble lords, for a few moments, and
I will soon return to you. I go to the
queen. Her testimony will decide this
affair.'
The King then left the apartment.—
The Duke turning to the Earl Percival
bitterly censured him for divulging the
matter at all to his majesty.
`You have done wrong, a grevious
wrong, my lord,' he repeated for the
third time.
`Right can never be pronounced wrong—
I have but done my duty. It was a
duty I owed to the innocent victim if she
be alive—a duty I owed to Lord Ross,
for he confessed only that I might be
instrumental in lessening his guilt by restoring
her to her rights; it was a duty I
owed to the king! for I knew he would
thank me for the revelation; and lastly
it was a duty, my lord duke, that I owed
to my own conscience.'
`Mischief will come of it. The king
is too confoundedly honest. I hope and
pray the child may not be alive, or that
she can never be found! Bonfield you
say last saw her in America. So! we
may get home as good as a Yankee girl
on the British throne! for with her
American education she will be unfit for
an English princess. You have done all
wrong, my lord! But here comes his
majesty. If the queen says no, then this
paper of the king's is a forgery; for this
is all the evidence we have, in my mind,
that lord Ross has not invented the whole
to leave a fire-brand behind him. But
hither comes his majesty again. His
step is firm. His face is exceedingly
grave. I fear the worst.'
As the king re-entered both of the noblemen
watched the expression of his
face with deep interest.
`I hope your majesty has found that
the whole is false,' said the Duke.
`No, my noble cousin,' answered the
king. `I have spoken with the Queen.
I asked her if she had given birth to twins
when I was born. She answered without
hesitation `yes;' yet asked me why I
asked and how I heard of it. I waived
the questions and inquired what became
of my twin-sister. She answered that it
died a few hours after it was born! Thus
you see that the account of my lord
Ross is fully sustained.'
`I do believe it did die, since we must
now take it for granted there were twins,'
cried the duke. `I am firmly of the
opinion that the infant Ross gave in
charge to Bonfield and sent to the Bermudas
was some other child.'
`I cannot think so, my noble duke,'
said the king. `There is no doubt of
the birth of the princess, and as little
doubt but that it was removed secretly,
as lord Ross has stated. This is my
firm opinion, as I see it is that of lord Percival.
'
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[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]
`There is deception somewhere, be
assured, your majesty,' said the duke,
who was greatly excited.
`If there be, I will detect it, my cousin.
I am resolved to have the whole affair
investigated.'
`And if your majesty discovers this
person, you will no doubt vacate the
throne to her, for being some five minutes
elder-born!'
`You forget you stand in the king's
presence, cousin Duke!' said his majesty
mildly reproving him. `Captain Bonfield
must be sent for, my lord Percival.
I must see him in person. You say he
has no suspicion who the infant, his protege,
is!'
`No, your majesty. He believes her
to be of high birth, but has not the most
distant conception of the truth.'
`This is all the better. Will you arrange
it, my lord, so that I can see this
man without delay?'
`Anticipating this wish on the part of
your majesty, I have invited him to breakfast
with me. Before I left my house to
come hither I gave instructions to have
him brought hither from the schooner.
He is no doubt awaiting me in my library,
where I gave orders to those who
went for him to have him conducted.—
Neither my servants, nor even Manning
who went for him, suspect who my guest
is!'
`You must have another guest at your
table, my lord, whom Bonfield must not
suspect, nor any of your household. I
will breakfast with you.'
The smuggler, at eight o'clock, landed
at the stairs in the boat which the earl
ordered to go for him; and Manning, the
earl's secretary, received him, and taking
him into his carriage, drove to the earl's
residence with him. Bonfield was dressed
in a plain, neat suit of blue, with bright
buttons, and looked like a very respectable
citizen.
`If you will remain here and amuse
yourself awhile with the prints and books,
sir,' said Manning as he left him in the
earl's library, `his lordship will soon be in.'
Bonfield bowed and the secretary retired,
wondering not a little who it was
that the earl had taken such pains to
bring to his house so early in the morning;
but as he knew he came from the captured
smuggling schooner, he took it for
granted he was some man who was wanted
in evidence against the smuggler,
whom all London looked upon as some
hideous monster in form; for his reputation
had filled their imaginations with the
most extravagant notions of the celebrated
rover.
The earl, soon after leaving the king,
returned to his own chambers.
`Is the person arrived, Manning?' he
asked of his secretary, whom he had encountered
in the hall.
`Yes, my lord. He is in the library.'
The earl, upon entering and seeing a
well-dressed, stout-looking gentleman of
fifty looking carelessly over a book of
prints, supposed he was some stranger,
and he looked round for the smuggler.
But as Bonfield raised his face and he
caught his dark, deep-set eyes, he recognised
him at once.
`I am glad to see you, Captain Bonfield,
' he said. `I am happy, too, to see
you without your irons.'
`I thank you, my lord, for the favor
you have done me in ordering them to
be removed.'
`I have been thinking much upon your
recital last night, Captain Bonfield, and I
have communicated it to one or two gentlemen
who I thought would be able to
furnish a clue to the mystery you have
been so many years involved in. They
will be to breakfast with me; and I beg
you will be quite as frank and open with
them in replying to their questions as you
have been with me.'
-- 077 --
[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]
`It will give me pleasure to do so, my
lord. But will your lordship tell me how
you knew about the matter at all?' he
asked, with eager inquiry, lighting up his
eyes.
`With great pleasure.' answered the
Earl. He then began to state how that
the Marquis of Ross on his dying bed
had sent for him, and unfolded to him
the whole of the circumstances as far as
he was acquainted with them. He gave
the smuggler a brief but distinct accoum
of the Marquis's confession—and also
informed him of his having expired immediately
after making it,
`And did the Marquis tell your lordship
who the child's parents were?' asked
Bonfield quickly add earnestly.
`I can form an opinion,' answered
the Earl evasively. `As you guessed, I
have no doubt of her rank being very
high.'
`Well my lord, it is my opinion that it
is a natural child of the Marquis which he
wished to get rid of in some way without
being guilty of murder and he took the
method that he did.'
`Be satisfied to know that it is not the
Marquis' child—but further than this do
not at present seek to learn. So that I
can put you in the way of seeing your
protege happily restored to the birth right
she has so long been deprived of, I presume
you will be content.'
`That I shall be, my lord!' answered
Bonfield very decided!y. `I am as interested
now in my dear little Flora's
welfare as ever I was, though she is not
little now, but grown up to be a beautiful
young lady.'
`I suppose it would make you happy
to be commissioned to go for her, and
bring her back to England since you took
her away?'
`It would be the crowing happiness
and triumph of my life, my lord,' he answered
with animation. `If it is on this
condition I have my liberty given me,
the act is done, provided I can find her
and find her alive and well. But I bepelieve
I shall my lord, for Heaven
wont let me die till she has her own, that
I am sure of.'
As he spoke the King and the Duke
of—came into the library, both disguised
as country gentlemen, in broad
hats, huge wigs, broad skirted coats and
top boots, with whips in their hands. It
would have required one very well ac
quainted with his majesty's features to
have recognized him or the Duke either.
The Earl would have been at fault had
he not more than once seen the King in
precisely the same costume when in the
country; for it was his majesty's custom
to ride on short journeys from one
place to another dressed as a citizen, that
he might observe without being observed.
`Gentleman,' said the Earl, `this is
the worthy Captain Bonfield of whom you
heard me speak.'
The King stared with surprise. Bonfield
bowed with a respectful, formal air
as he would have done to two genuine
country squires, friends of the Earl.—
The party then proceeded to the breakfast
room. The coffee urn being placed
before the Earl he dispensed with the attendance
of his servants and dismissing
them locked the doors.
To relate the conversation that now
passed would be to give a detail of what
has already been made known. The
King heard from Bonfield in answer to
his leading questions the same account
he had given the Earl. The result was
that both were convinced that the confession
of the dying Marquis was true, and
that the infant which he had intrusted to
the smuggler was the twin-princess.
`Your account, Captain,' said the king
after he had finished asking questions and
had drawn all the facts from the
-- 078 --
[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]
smuggler, `your account bears evidence of the
truth. I am satisfied with it!'
`So am I!' answered the Duke; `and
I must add that I consider it as one of
the most remarkable things that ever occurred.
'
`You deserve great credit and much
praise, Captain Bonfield,' said the King,
`for your care of the child and your devoted
attachment to it throughout. By
your means it was saved from a horrible
fate—eternal silence with the gift of
speech!'
`I could not help loving it, sir. Its
love for me in return was all the reward
I cared for.'
`Be assured the friends of the child
will wish to reward you more fully, Captain,
when they shall see it again—see it
restored to them by your own hnad!'
`Sir,' said Bonfield, who had been fixedly
observing the countenance of the
king for some minutes; `sir, I beg your
pardon, but I perceive such a strong likeness
in you to Flora that I cannot be mistaken
when I say, that I believe you are
nearly related! You have the same eyes
and the same expression about the mouth
when you speak!'
At hearing this remark the Earl uttered
an exclamation of gratified surprise.
The king clapped his hands together in
wonder and astonishment, while the duke,
striking his fist upon the table, exclaimed
in a sort of emphasis of despair,
`It is up now! There cannot be another
word said!'
`Then I am right, sir!' cried Bonfield
with some agitation, as he bent eagerly
toward the king. `I feel that I am right,
sir! If you were her own father—but
you are too young for that—were you her
own brother, sir, you could not look more
like her. If I have indeed found a relative
of Flora, I shall call this the happiest
day of my life!'
The earl looked at the king to see if he
would reveal himself. The duke also
watched him, looking as if he feared that
he would do so. Both saw that he was
deeply agitated—that his eyes were moist.
`You are right, Captain Bonfield,' said
the king at length; `in me you do find a
near relative of Flora! She is, I have
reason to believe, my twin-sister.'
`Then, sir, let me grasp your hand!'
cried the smuggler with animation and
warmth, stretching across the table his
hard hand to seize that of the king. The
earl was about to interfere to check this
movement, but the king put his arm back
and grasped the palm of the friend of the
exiled princess.
`There is my hand,' he said, pressing
it. `You have shown yourself to have a
generous heart, Captain Bonfield. I rejoice
in taking by the hand one who has
befriended my sister in her banishment
from the land of her birth. Now, sir, are
you willing, for fair recompense, to sail
this very night from London in search of
the maiden!'
`This hour, sir, and without reward!'
responded Bonfield. `How like her you
are, sir! I love you already, for her
sake! I would have sworn you were
Flora's brother in India. I know not your
rank, sir,' he added bluntly, `but I can
easily tell neither you nor your friend are
country squires. I can tell a nobleman
easily under false colors. I know Flora
is noble—therefore you must be!'
-- 079 --
CHAPTER XII. THE LOVERS.
[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]
The king and the earl smiled at the
confident assertions of the smuggler, and
the latter said in reply—
`You are right, captain, my guest is
noble. He came in this costume merely
as a matter of taste. Be assured that your
little friend Flora will prove to be of a
rank quite equal to your expectations.'
`I am glad of this, my lord,' answered
Bonfield. `I am glad of this, for she deserves
to be happy. I should love her
just the same, though, had I been told by
you she was a common peasant's daughter;
but for her sake I want to see her
proved noble. How strange it is, my
lord, that you should have seen lord Ross,
and all this should have come out as it
has, and I should have been here in London
at the very time of all others when
most wanted. Now, my lord, say the
word and I will be off after Flora. I do
not care how soon! But if you would
only tell me who are the parents of the
dear child, that I may inform her?'
`Perhaps it would be best to surprise
her,' said the king.
`Yes, you are right; and though I
should be glad to know myself, I will wait
till she knows it.'
`This is best, captain,' said the king.
Now we will have you away as speedily
as possible. Instead of going out in your
own vessel, I think it best you should go
over to Portsmouth and there take a fast-sailing
government vessel, which shall be
placed at your service. Can it not be,
earl?' asked the king suddenly, as if he
feared he should have betrayed himself
by taking so much upon him.
`Yes, my lord,' answered the earl.—
`This I will have arranged as you desire.'
`If it please your lordship,' said Bonfield,
`I would rather go in my own vessel.
It sails quite as well as the old Dart,
for I had it built on the same model. I
know her points—I know my crew. I
shall accomplish the passage in a third
less time than in any other craft.'
`But your crew are bucaniers, and it
could be hardly safe to entrust the maiden
in a vessel so manned;' said the Duke,
who at length began to take an interest
in the affair.
`They are not bucaniers, sir, or, my
lord,' answered Bonfield. `The worst I
have been is a smuggler, and a privateersman.
If I am willing to trust her
you should be, for she is as dear to me
as she can be to either of your lordships
here.' This was spoken warmly as if his
feelings were touched. `Besides, my
lord, if I go and leave my men, what
guarantee have I that they will not be
hanged? If I am to go free they are to
go with me. This I will promise to do,
my lords. When I reach the States I
will agree to come home with Flora, if I
find her, in a ship from Halifax, giving
my vessel and crew up to my lieutenant
Nickerson who is now in irons on board
of her. I will willingly come home in a
government vessel.
After some few moments consideration
between the Earl and the king, the
former informed Bonfield that he might
pursue his own course, only speedily
-- 080 --
[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]
either return with Flora, or bring certain
intelligence of her fate.
In half an hour more Bonfield was
once more on the deck of his schooner.
The Earl accompanied him, and ordered
Harry and his men to be released. Lord
Perry then placed in the smuggler's hands
a letter to the commander at Halifax, ordering
him to place a fast sailing sloop-of-war
at the bearer's services to sail for
England. The same evening, the day
having been spent in getting on board
stores, the schooner Sea-Shell, for this
was the name Bonfield had given his vessel,
dropped down past the tower and
docks, not a little to the surprise of the
Captain of the vessel of war which had
had her in charge. But as the orders
came from the king to let her depart,
there was nothing to be said. About
midnight with a strong breeze from the
north-east Bonfield left the river, and
laid his course through the channel in
the direction of the Atlantic. During
the next day he passed Cowes and was
chased by a revenue schooner, but outsailed
her. If he had been taken he had
papers furnished by the Earl, which
would have prevented any detention.
On the third morning the land was no
longer seen, and the little schooner with
everything drawing went flying like a
bird over the ocean.
We will now take the reader, in ancipation,
to the distant shores of New England,
to which the Sea-Shell was swiftly
sailing in search of the exiled maiden, in
whose fate nobles and kings had begun
to take so deep an interest.
It was a calm, roseate, autumnal sun-set.
The sky in the west seemed to be
an arching ocean of gold, into which the
richest purple and orange colours were
infused. Clouds like painted barks hung
in the gorgeous sea of crimson light, and
upon the horizon reposed a dark azure
wall, its summit towering grandly and
sublime, its edge fringed with dazzling
silver. It was an American autumnal
evening in all its characteristic splendor.
The woodlands robed in the most brilliant
dyes of the rainbow, seemed to vie
with the clouds, and with the atmosphere,
in the lavish opulence of their display.
Upon a gentle eminence that sloped
on one side towards a shaded dell, through
which flowed a sparkling brook, and on
another side towards the snowy beach of
the blue sea, stood a youth and a maiden
gazing upon the scenes around them.
They had just reached the summit by a
path that led from the left through a
beautiful garden, beyond which, through
the purple and scarlet foliage of the frosttinted
trees, was visible the humble roof
of a gardner's cottage; while, farther
distant upon another hill, crowned with
a grove of noble oaks and elms, rose imposingly,
and in fine taste with the
surrounding scenery; an elegant villa,
with a lawn in front, and extensive cultivated
grounds. Farther still, the needlelike
tower of a church pierced the roseate
heavens while many roofs dispersed
here and there in the country, betrayed
the elegant homes of wealth and taste.
Before them stretched the spacious waters
of the harbour, with its islands, some
green as emeralds, others brown like topaz,
and others frowning with snow-white
or grey fortifications. Between the islands
were glimpses of the ocean dotted
with sails. There were numerous vessels
steering towards the city of Boston,
which was visible less than two leagues
distant at the left, the twin hills of Dorchester
rising between, and partly hiding
its northern extremity. The whole prospect
about them was varied, beautiful,
and full of life and interest.
`I could stand here, Flora, by your
side, and gaze on such a fair prospect as
this, till I thought paradise were returned,
' said the youth bending earnestly yet
-- 081 --
[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]
modestly upon her his dark, fathomless
eyes, while his hand gently stole and
held hers unresisting. `You should be
my Eve the fairest among women.'
`Nay, Edgar,' answered the maiden
with a smile; `were I Eve I should certainly
fall into Eve's temptation, and so
destroy the fair paradise you have imagined.
'
`You shall be to me only Flora, then,
he answered with animation. `Yet, methinks,
that were this paradise, and you
Eve, should tempt me to eat the forbidden
fruit, I should at once take it from
your hand and eat; for seeing that you
were lost I would hasten to share with
you your fall.'
`Say not so, Edgar. Your love for
me is too impetuous. You should not
love me so as to do wrong for my sake.'
`I would be whatever thou art, Flora.
But thou canst never be otherwise than
good and true. In being like thee, I shall
ensure happiness forevermore. But see,
hither comes the silent Mary to join us.
How dreadful must be the privation of
speech and hearing. She can not hear
the sound of the brook in the dell, the
low sweeping of the wind among the
trees, the musical dash of the surges
upon the beach, the songs of the birds,
and lovelier than all your own voice,
Flora. How much is she deprived of.
Yet she is ever cheerful; seems always
happy-hearted and at peace within. The
expression of her face is the beautiful index
of intellectual serenity.'
`She is an angel, Edgar. She has a
heart full of feeling and generous emotions.
She is intelligent beyond many of
those who have the sense of hearing and
of speech. Her mind is of a high order;
but her heart is goodness and truth itself.'
`I wish that I could converse with her
as you do, Flora! How I have stood
by and wondered to witness your conversation
together. I could almost read her
ideas upon her speaking features. Is it
possible you can converse with her upon
every subject?'
`Yes, as perfectly, Edgar, as with
you. Gestures and signs are but the
ruder outline of our communication. The
eye, the lip, the brows express the most
conceptions of her mind. I have taught
her all that I know, and what it has taken
me months to acquire she comprehends
by a few general ideas explained to her.
She seems to have the power of reading
what is on my memory, as if it were a
book. I believe she would detect always
whether any person's countenance precisely
or not reflected the thoughts of
his heart. Her penetration is almost
spiritual!'
`How beautiful she seems, as she stops
and fixes her eyes upon the setting sun,
and the glorious world of clouds about it.
She does not seem more than twenty-two
or three, and yet you told me she was
nearly forty.
`Yes, but she looks always the same
to me from my childhood.'
`How strange the mystery about your
birth. She has made known to you all she
knows, I doubt not, from what you have
told me.
`Yes, Edgar, I have closely at differtimes
inquired, and she could only tell
me that she was ignorant of who placed
me as an infant in her charge. She says
that he came to the institution where she
was and took her away and placed me
in her charge, and both of us in the vessel
of my benefactor, who took us to the
Bermudas.'
`Do you remember when you left the
Bermudas?'
`Perfectly. I was in my seventh year.
Previous to that we had been with a man
and woman, whose names I have long
forgotten, but whose faces I can recall.
They were not always kind to us. The
only person who ever loved us, was my
-- 082 --
[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]
good uncle Captain Dart. But Mary
says he is not my uncle, but only the
Captain who was to take us, and who became
so much attached to me on the
voyage, that he always visited me at the
island when he could. Mary must have
learned this by her acuteness of observation!
You were not here when my uncle
came to visit me last year?'
`Xo; I was then in Cambridge. Then
I had not seen you, Flora, at least to
know and love you. I had heard of the
beautiful grand-daughter of my father's
gardener, but only heard of you. I shall
not forget the first time I saw you. Hearing
about you, I resolved I would make
an effort to behold you, for you kept
yourself so retired here that I was told by
my sister, that unless I actually came to
the old gardener's cottage, I should never
see you. So one evening just ten months
ago, a few days before my connection
with the University ceased, I boldly took
a walk to your grandfather's on the pretence
of bringing him a new kind of
flower-seed, which at much trouble I had
obtained for this very ruse. I found him
in the garden trimming a rose-tree, and
you were standing by him, in a straw
hat, holding your apron to receive the
buds and roses he was cutting off. I
came upon you all at once. Our eyes
met, and from that moment, Flora, I was
wounded beyond cure. But here is Mary
coming on again. She smiles to see
how rosily you blush. Your cheeks are
quite as rich in hue, as when we then
saw each other. That moment I wish
never to forget. I wish I could speak to
aunt Mary as you call her, and just say
`good evening,' if nothing more!'
At this moment the mute Mary came
near them, and Flora flying to meet her,
embraced and kissed her forehead, although
they had not been an hour parted;
and Edgar, who was a fine-looking young
man, with dark brown hair, and black
expressive eyes, extended his hand, and
with respectful kindness took hers, and
smiled in her eyes. She returned the
look with wonderful depth of expression
and affection, and then turning to Flora,
tapped her cheeks, looked with sympathy
at Edgar, touched their hearts, and then
joined their hands together with a laugh
full of roguish sweetness. Flora blushed,
if possible deeper than she had done
when Edgar was describing their first
meeting. The lover pressed his lips upon
the little hand he held, and the three
interchanged looks of the present happiness.
And they were happy each and all.—
Edgar Channing was the only son of a
wealthy retired merchant, upon whose
estate the father of Harry Nickerson lived,
as gardener. He was a young man of
an ardent temperament, pure principles,
and high moral feelings. He was a promising
young man, and his father looked
to him to reflect honor upon his name
and family. He had been but little at
home during his boyhood and collegiate
course, and although he might have heard
that the old gentleman Nickerson, had a
pretty grand-child, he gave the part no
thought. It was not until his last visit at
home, before he was to leave the University,
that his attention was drawn particularly
to the fact by the remarks of his
sister, Margaret, who upon looking at a
picture in an annual of English beauties,
exclaimed on seeing one of the Dutchess
of —, how like Flora the old gar
dener's grand-daughter!'
`If the Flora you speak of is half as
handsome as this, sister,' he said, `she
is extremely beautiful!'
`Have you never seen her?'
`Not to notice her particularly. You
know I spend all my vacations travelling
and have hardly been at home ten days
in the last four years.'
`I should like to have you see her,
-- 083 --
[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]
just to see how wonderfully she resembles
this. But for the world don't tell
her so, for I dare say she is vain enough
as she is. All poor girls that are pretty
are spoiled by flattery.'
`But Flora has never been flattered,'
answered her gouty father, who was
reading near the window, with his bandaged
foot on a chair, and now looked
up. `Let me see the portrait. It is remarkably
like her, as you say. This
Duchess might, so far as looks go, have
been her moiher! What name is that
under it?'
`The Duchess of—. the sister
of the late Queen, it says. For the
world, Edgar,' continued his handsome,
proud and aristocratic sister, `do not tell
her so. I am sorry I mentioned it. It
would make her toss her head for something.
'
`I never saw her toss her head, Margaret,
' said her father. `She always
seems modest and unassuming. It is
true she carries herself with an air of
dignity; but it becomes her!'
`Dignity! It is vanity.'
`Why, Margaret, how can you speak
so enviously,' said her brother. `I see
that the maid is really pretty, or you
would not be so warm about it. But you
are so handsome yourself you can afford
to have others pretty. I wonder at your
talking so. I shall at once try to see
her, for my curiosity is awakened. It is
a pleasant half mile's walk to the old
gardener's cottage, and I will go down
and see this beauty.'
`I hope, Edgar, you will not condescend
to speak to her.'
`I don't know that she will condescend
to speak to me, if she is so beautiful and
vain as you represent,' he answered,
smiling; `but I shall not run away from
her. I ought to pay the old man a visit,
and will now do so.'
`Don't mention the resemblance if you
are so foolish as to suffer yourself to
speak to her!' cried his sister not a little
vexed at her brother for wishing to go
and see one whom she acknowledged her
own superior in beauty, manners and intelligence;
for Margaret Channing knew
Flora very well, but only to envy and
dislike her for her superior attainments
and excellence in every thing.
The visit which Edgar made has already
been alluded to and the important
result. He lost his heart to her at once;
and the attachment became mutual and
complete. He did not make known to
his sister the impression Flora had made
upon him; for he saw that she envied
and disliked her. Thus for many months
their love grew in secret. Their interviews
were stolen. Flora told him all
her history so far as she knew it. They
betrothed themselves to each other.—
Flora, then, desired that he would no
longer keep their attachment from his
parents and sister. Reluctant as he was
to reveal it, he promised to do so. It received
the approbation of the old gardener,
(his wife was no longer living), and
of many; but Edgar knew that his father's
wishes in reference to him were
for a rich and consequental match; and
that his sister would flash her eyes with
scorn at the revelation that he had betrothed
himself to the humble grand-daughter,
as people termed her, of the
old English gardener.
But still it was necessary that he
should reveal the truth. He did so; and,
as he anticipated, was severely reproached
and blamed by his father, and almost
insulted by the severe and bilter language
of his sister.
`Nevertheless,' he answered calmly;
`it is done. It cannot be revoked, nor
do I wish it to be. Flora is worthy any
man's love. She would do honor to any
man's choice. She has not her peer
among any females that I know. She
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[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]
has been thoroughly educated by the old
gardener who has done his duty by her.
If you refuse to receive her as a daughter
and sister,' he said warmly, `I shall regret
it.'
`I will disinherit you, sir,' cried his
father, greatly excited, and shaking his
crutch at him. `A son of mine, the heir
of a hundred thousand dollars, marry my
gardener's daughter. It is not to be
borne!'
`I would have them sent off at once,
father!' said Margaret. `It is all their
planning, her's and the old man's. She
is artful enongh, I dare say, for any
thing, and Nickerson wicked enough.—
A fine thing for them, truly, to catch the
rich heir, Edgar Channing. You are a
fool, brother! You have suffered yourself
to be caught in a net set for you.'
`I can patiently hear no more,' answered
Edgar firmly. `I shall marry
Flora Nickerson, even if my father disinherits
me and my sister refuses
to recognise me as a brother. I do
not fear but at the bar I can maintain
myself as other young men have done.'
With this reply Edgar left the house
and hastened, in the bright presence of
Flora and the cheerful silence of Mary
to recover that peace and equanimity
which the violence of his family had
driven from his bosom.
This scene occurred but a few days
previous to our present introduction of
them, viewing the prospect around from
an eminence near the gardener's house.
Indifferent to the opposition of his father
and sister, yet deeply regretting it, for
he loved and esteemed them both, he
still openly visited Flora. His father
would have sent Nickerson away if he
had not feared that Edgar would precipitate
the match, that he might be their
protector and go with them whenever
they should go. This Edgar had resolutely
said that he would do, should this
step be taken by his father. The latter,
therefore, forbore, hoping that some
means might yet be successfully applied
to break off the engagement.
The afternoon which we now see them
together was that preceding the day upon
which they were to be married. Edgar
had established himself in a law-office in
the city, and had taken pleasant rooms
for himself and bride. Their happiness,
therefore, at this time, was calm and
deep. Mary entered into it with all the
gladness of her pure spirit, for she sympathised
always in the enjoyments of
those about her.
The three interchanged looks of mutual
tenderness and joy, and once more
turned to gaze upon the beautiful prospect
over which the shades of twilight
were gently stealing. Suddenly Mary
uttered an exclamation of delight and intense
surprise, at the same time pointing
in the direction of a small but graceful
vessel, schooner rigged, that had steered
out of the usual channel to the city and
was standing towards the beach at the
foot of the hill.
`What does she say, Flora?' asked
Edgar, as he saw the two exchange signs
with eager rapidity and the face of the
latter light up with joy.
`That the vessel coming this way is the
Sea-Shell.'
-- 085 --
CHAPTER XIII. THE SEA-SHELL.
[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]
It was indeed the `Sea-Shell,' the little
warlike-looking schooner in which
Captain Bonfield had left the shores of
England eighteen days before. After coming
into the outer-roads of the harbour
she had hauled her wind and stood across
the bay in the direction of the shores of
Dorchester. She had got within two
miles of the land when Mary's quick recognising
eye descried her. To a mute
who is accustomed to make the eye subserve
the uses of other senses, resemblances
are readily perceived, and the
memory, even of the most minute particulars,
is wonderfully acute. Thus at
the distance of two miles, and after many
months absence, Mary was able at a
glance to see that the stranger was the
Sea-Shell. When the vessel was pointed
out by her to Flora, the latter also recognized
it, and her face was as bright with
joy as Mary's, for both of them equally
loved the smuggler. He had from the
first been their only and best friend. They
looked upon him as a father; and his
conduct towards them had always been
like that of a find parent. Of his profession
or real character and name they
knew nothing. To Flora he had always
called himself after the name of his vessel,
Capt. `Dart,' and by this name alone
she knew him. To this address she sent
all her letters. She supposed that he
was a merchant-captain. The fact that
he was an outlaw she was ignorant of;
nor, had she known it, is it probable that
she would have loved him less. What
ever he was, he was dear to her as her
first, and only, and oldest friend and protector.
Mary showed all her feelings of
attachment for the smuggler, though with
more sedateness and gravity.
Their joy at seeing the vessel approaching
was communicated to the heart and
countenance of Edgar. He had long felt
a curiosity to see the man who seemed
to be the only link between Flora and
her unknown parents. The three now
watched the vessel, as it approached, with
the deepest interest. Half a mile from
the shore on account of the shallowness of
the water, it rounded to drop her anchor,
and in a minute and a half everything
was snug.
`How quick she took in sails,' cried
Edgar; `but a moment ago she was
moving in with everything packed on,
and now she is motionless, with every
sail furled upon the yards: your uncle is
a skilful seaman, Flora. From the looks
of the vessel she must be in the English
naval service. As it is after sun-down,
he shows no colours.'
`See a boat has put off, Edgar. In a
few minutes, and I shall see him, and
embrace him. Let us hasten to the shore
to meet him as soon as he lands.
They immediately descended the eminence,
and by a path, on one side, bordered
by a hedge of fir-trees, on the other
open to the lawn, they reached the beach
just as the boat also struck it. Before
getting to the water-side Flora had recognized
the form of her uncle, as she affectionately
termed the smuggler, standing
in the stern of his boat. He had also
-- 086 --
[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]
seen the party coming down to the landing,
and had waved his hand to them.
The next moment he leaped upon the
sand, and Flora and Mary were both together
clasped to his heart. He kissed
them both with deep affection upon the
check, and holding them off, looked them
each steadily in the face, as if to see what
changes time had continued to make.
`You are, if possible, more beautiful
than ever, Flora, and you, Mary, more
like an angel. Tell her so Flora.'
`She understands you, uncle; oh, how
happy I am to see you once more.
Mary wishes me to tell you that she expected
you to-day, for she has dreamed
about you three nights and the dreams
of mutes always come true, she says.'
`She looks happy and so do you, and I
know you are both glad to see me. What
a reward is mine for taking care of you
when no one cared for you,' said Bonfield,
with delighted looks, in which were
mingled emotions of pride and gratitude
in being so loved by creatures so good
and beautiful as the two were. `But who
is this?' he asked, glancing at Edgar,
who stood a few feet off looking upon the
scene of the happy meeting with the air
of one who secretly wished, but feared,
to participate in it.
`You will soon know, and be glad to
know him, uncle,' onswered Flora blushing.
`It is Mr. Edgar Channing, the son
of the gentleman who is the proprietor of
the estate. And—but—well, I won't be
foolish about it, dear uncle;' she said after
a moment's beautiful confusion, durin
which Mary, who perfectly understood
he whole, went up to Edgar; `you
must know some time. We are to be
married to-morrow.'
Mary at the same instant placed in
Edgar's hand that of Flora, and, joining
them together, looked in the Captain's
face with one of those sweet smiles which
shed over her features perfect sunshine.
`I see, I see,' said Bonfield. `If Mary
consents to it, all will be right, and so
will I. There is no deceiving her. Mr.
Channing, there is my hand! I am glad
to see any one that loves those I love.
You show your good sense and make
me respect your judgment in choosing
my little rose here. None but the good
could love her, nor could she love any
one who was not worthy of her. But, I
think you are to be married a little too
soon. We will, however, talk about
that when we get up to the cottage.
How is the old gardener?'
`Quite well, dear uncle, and he will
be most glad to see you back. My heart
is so full of joy that I don't know how to
keep from weeping.'
`I shall scold you, for getting married
before I came back. But, so long as it
has'nt taken place I'll forgive you.—
What say you to putting it off young gentleman
and lady until we get to England?
'
`To England?' she repeated.
`Are you going to take Flora to England,
sir?' he asked with surprise.
`What is it?' asked Mary of Flora,
with signs, seeing their surprised and
troubled looks.
Flora instantly explained. Mary looked
pleased at the idea of going to England.
`Yes, Flora, said the Captain. `I
have come to America on purpose to
take you to your native land.'
`When, uncle? Why?' she asked
eagerly.
`At once. If possible I would have
you on board my vessel and be away
before midnight. Nay, do not look
alarmed; I will not interfere with any of
your love engagements, Flora. You
shall marry Mr. Edgar before you go,
and he will go too, I dare say.'
They were now all four walking slowly
towards the old gardener's cottage.
-- 087 --
[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]
Flora fell back a little with her uncle at a
hint from him, and he briefly informed her
how that he had discovered her brother
in England, who was at least a nobleman,
and that he had sent him for her
to bring her to England without delay.
`Uncle,' she said, `I cannot go and
leave Edgar. His happiness and mine
are woven in one thread for life. If I
postpone my marriage it may be to be
forced, if it were possible, into another
there. It would be to make him wretched.
First let us be married, and when
you tell him you have discovered my relatives,
he will gladly go with us. He
marries me, uncle, against much opposition.
He has been disinherited by his
father and repudiated by his family for
his attachment to me; for he is rich and
I am poor and humble. But, for all that,
he loves me and I live only in his love.
Consent to our union and we will both
go with you!'
`Well, I will say no more. I suppose
it can't be helped now it is gone so far.
So smile again, my child. You shall be
married and I and all my crew will
dance at your wedding. But only on the
condition that you and your young husband,
a fine looking fellow though, sail
at once with me for England. I like him
already, partly because you like him;
partly because Mary does; partly because
he is so confoundedly good-looking;
and partly because, being rich and
you poor, he loves you for yourself. It
shows he is a man of sense. Let us go
on ahead and overtake him and see what
he says.'
The proposal, though at first a little
startling to Edgar to sail at once to England,
he gladly embraced. It was decided
ere they reached the old man's
house, that the wedding should take place
the next morning on board the Sea-Shell.
The evening was spent in preparations.
Edgar had to go to the city to leave in
structions about his affairs for a three
months' absence, as he said; but he was
back again by ten o'clock. All was
bustle and joy and hope with some gladness.
The old gardener was sad that
Flora and Mary were to leave him; but
his tears were soon dried up when he
was invited by Bonfield to make one of
the party to England, where the Captain
told him that on Flora's account, he
would have his fortune made. As his
son Harry was all that was left to him,
and he was the first officer of the SeaShell,
the old man gladly embraced the
proposal to accompany those who for
many years had seemed to him as his
own children. At eleven o'clock at
night Bonfield went on board taking all
the baggage belonging to his passengers.
He then got every thing ready for them
to come on board the next morning. At
the prospect of a wedding on board, the
whole of the crew were in great glee,
and everything went forward with cheerfulness
and activity. Fresh water and
fresh provisions were taken on board,
late as it was, and by morning all was
ready both for the wedding and for sailing
again. The smuggler had not lost a
moment in delay. At six bells two boats
deeorated with flags were sent on shore
for the bridal party. A clergyman, an
intimate friend of Edgar, accompanied
them to the vessel. Before eight o'clock
the ceremony was performed. Flora
looked perfectly lovely. Edgar perfectly
happy. Mary seemed the very picture
of peaceful joy. Her countenance
beamed with serenity and happiness.
The Captain appeared to enjoy the whole
with pride and satisfaction. Flora seemed
to him like a very daughter; and he
deeply participated in her joy. He
knew she was happy and this made him
so.
At the end of the ceremony the generous
smuggler placed a roleau of gold
-- 088 --
[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]
ounces in the hand of the young minister.
All hands were piped aft to dance
as Bonfield had pledged, and taking
Mary for his partner, he whistled in the
reel till fairly driven from the field by
Flora's laughter.
At eight o'clock the crew of the cutter
was piped to the side, and the clergyman
took his leave. As soon as the boat got
back, the anchor was weighed, the top-sail
loosened, the mainsail hoisted, and
the schooner gradually moved from her
moorings with a five-knot breeze from
the West. In a few minutes she spread
all her canvas and gallantly ploughed her
way down the harbor, passing one after
the other a fleet of outward-bound coasters,
taking the lead of the whole, and
stretching away alone into the open sea.
Her departure was watched by wondering
eyes from the villa of Mr. Channing;
for, as she was getting under
weigh, a servant who had lived with the
gardener arrived at the house and preclaimed
that the old gardener had gone to
England in the black vessel anchored off
there, and had not only taken Flora and
Mary, but that Edgar had gone on board
also.
The father and daughter, and a spendthrift
nephew the old man had taken into
his family under the pretence of making
him his heir, hoping thereby to alarm
Edgar, one and all hastened to the piazza
to look at the vessel. Upon closely
questioning the man, they got from him a
general notion of what had occurred;
though every thing had been kept carefully
from his knowledge as far as possible.
`Edgar has now fairly thrown himself
away,' said his father. `I rue the
day that villainous runaway English gardener
ever was employed by me.'
`We ought to have made a scullion of
the girl, and then this folly of Edgar's
would not have been committed,' said
Margaret. `Disgraced! He has ran
away with a gardener's daughter.'
`Let him go, cousin. He ant worth
the thought, if he takes up with one so
low,' said the young heir in expectation,
who felt that he ought to be very much
indebted to Flora, and in his heart would
not have had things otherwise than they
were for the world.
`There is a boat coming ashore,' said
Margaret, who never kept her eyes off
of the vessel. `I wonder what new.'
`Go and see who lands,' said Mr.
Channing to the servant, who hastened
to obey.
`The vessel is spreading her sails and
going again,' exclaimed Margaret. `Is
it possible that my brother has gone to
England?'
`Here comes Terry, running, with a
note in his hand,' said the heir.
Margaret flew to meet him and took it
from him.
`Who gave it to you?' she demanded.
`The young praast, miss.'
`What young praast,' she added, opening
it; for she recognised her brother's
hand-writing.
`Here he coomes to spake for hisself,
miss,' answered Terry, as the clergyman
Edgar's friend, came walking towards
the house.
Margaret looked up to see him, and
then commenced reading aloud to her
father with a voice which increased each
moment in indignation:—
`My dear Sister,
`I am married. The noble and
amiable Flora is mine. Her relatives in
England have sent for her, and we leave
in the vessel which is anchored near
the gardens. On board this vessel I was
united to Flora at eight o'clock this
morning. I go to England with my dear
wife to gratify her; for you must know
she is no relative of the old gardener, but
is an orphan, who was placed under his
-- 089 --
[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]
charge in a mysterious way with money
in plenty for him to educate her. This
he has done. Tbe captain of the vessel
says that her relatives have been discovered
in England, and that they have sent
him express for her. He has just told me
that they are certainly noble. But this
assurance does not make me think more
of Flora. I have loved her in her humility.
I could love her no more were she
a princess. No title of nobility could
make her nobler than she is in my eyes.
But as the captain is not sure even of the
name of her relatives, who seem to have
kept him in the same kind of mystery
which from childhood has hung about
Flora, it may be that they are of humble
degree. But should I find that they were
of the peasantry, and dwelt in earthen
hovels, I should think no less of Flora.
To me she would always be Flora. I
shall probably return after an absence of
three months. Present my regards to my
father. Still and ever, whatever you
may be to me, Margaret,
`Your affectionate brother,
`Edgar.'
`I could die with shame. My brother
married to our gardener's daughter!'
cried the proud girl.
`Good morning, Mr. Channing,' said
the young clergyman. `I have had the
pleasure of performing the marriage ceremony
this morning, which makes the
lovely Flora Nickerson the wife of your
son. He gave me a line to send to you,
but after giving it to your servant, I concluded
to call by in person and inform
you.'
`You are a villain, sir,' cried Mr.
Channing in great excitement. `How
dare you marry my son, sirrah? How
dared you do it?' And the old man
shook his crutch as if he would gladly lay
it upon the `cloth' of the clergyman, who
stood before him calmly eyeing him, yet
with surprise at his vehemence.
`I did it, sir, at the request of the parties
most interested, Mr. Channing, and
also, what is more to the purpose, I did
it in the line of my duty. I could not
refuse any application of the kind without
just cause; and I saw no reason why
I could not legally join together in marriage
these two persons.'
`Have you dene, sir? I shall go—I
say I shall go mad, sirrah! I hardly
know how keep my patience!' And
the rich man shook with rage, while Margaret,
the proud and beautiful heiress,
stood by with a lip of scorn, and a brow
of anger, muttering at intervals as she
darted glances ot at the young clergyman.
`Impertinence! What audacity!—
To attempt to excuse such uncalled-for
interference in domestic affairs.'
`I do defend myself, lady! and further,
permit me to say,' answered the
clergyman firmly, and he turned to leave
them, seeing that his stay only provoked
them.
`You had better go!' cried the merchant,
`for you are at the bottom of the
whole. I have lost my son through you.
What have you further to say to that,
sir!' and he looked daggers at the young
minister.
-- 090 --
CHAPTER XIV. THE MINISTER.
[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]
The minister who had nearly reached
the door, turned and confronted the two
angry foes he had made by uniting Edgar
and Flora, and answered calmly but
firmly—
`I have further to say, Mr. Channing
and Miss Channing, that in opposing this
union as you have done, you have been
guilty of a great wrong, both to your son
and to yourselves. He could not find
anywhere's a better wife, than this fair
gardener's daughter. Besides beauty in
an unusual degree, as you have yourselves
borne witness, she possessed a
purity of heart, an integrity of character,
rarely to be met with in the higher walks
of life!'
The spendthrift nephew looked black,
and twirled his mustache fiercely.
Miss Margaret curled her pretty lip in
the most scornful derision, and a smile of
bitter irony played about the dimples of
her cheek. The merchant gave only a
rough, surly grunt, by way of expressing
his contempt for the pretensions of the
lowly gardener's daughter; pretensions
that caused her even to be compared with
themselves, who represented `the higher
walks of life,' to which the young clergyman's
words referred. He did not,
however, pay any attention to their expressions
of dislike at his words, but thus
resumed with dignity and firmness.
`You will one day regret the course
you have pursued, and I would advise
you as a friend, to be reconciled to an
event, which it is no longer in your power
to avert. You will believe me, you
will feel proud by and by of your daughter-in-law.
'
`Daughter-in-law! Humph,' growled
the gouty old man.
`Did ever one listen to such audacity?'
ejaculated the nephew, who with his eyeglass
stood looking at the minature over
Margaret's chair.
`I will never call Flora Nickerson sister-in-law,
be assured Mr. Upstart,' (the
clergyman's name was Upshur) cried
Margaret.' She has disgraced us!' and
here the young Prinsess put her cambric
kerchief to her eyes and walked up and
down the room with a stamping sort of
tramp that one would hardly beleive her
elegant little feet could execute.
`Uncle,' said the nephew,' shall I'orse
vip 'im?'
`I will not hear another word out of
your mouth, sir!' cried Mr. Channing,
looking terribly belligerent and grasping
the handle of his crutch a little lower
down, as if he meant to use it ere much
space elasped; leave my house, sir, and
never enter it again!
`I would not send for you if I was
dead! I'll be buried by a Roman Catholic
first! It is all a conspiracy between
you and my depraved son and that trollop
of Nickerson's! You are a conspirator,
sir! you — you — Leave my
house, sir! Your cloth only protects you
from the weight of my crutch!'
`To have the imprudence to marry
them, and then to have the insuperable,
-- 091 --
[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]
unparralleled boldness to come openly
into the house and tell us of it!' cried
Margaret, as she looked after him with
tones of anger and grief shining in her
dark fine eyes.
Slowly and deliberately he walked
from the room and down the steps and
so up the avenue to the gate.
`He is gone and I hope he may break
his neck!' exclaimed Mrs Channing.
`Shall I go after 'im and slap his face
for 'im, cousin?' asked the nephew, Mr.
Frederick Kipper, twirling his rose-scented
kid gloves in his fingers and looking
as if he felt quite courageous enough to
slap the cheek of a man whom he was
pretty well assured would not return the
blow; for he recollected reading somewhere,
he believed in Shakespeare, that
Ministers when struck on one cheek
turned the other also. He thought it
was a very odd sort of a custom, indeed
and wondered at; for he believed that
one cheek was quite enough to have smitten
at the time. But his cousin Margaret
did not see fit to put his courage to the
test, and perhaps it was very well for
Mr. Frederick Kipper that she did not;
for there are brave hearts and noble
spirits beneath the cloth of the clergy,
and insult will by such be resented with
manliness, not borne with cowardly submission.
There are instences in which
if the clergyman may forget `the cloth,'
in the recollection that he is also a man;
and if Mr Kipper had mustered courage
enough to test the non-combatting principles
of the young minister, there is little
doubt but that the other cheek smitten
would have been his own!
There was a few moments' silence in
the apartment after the departure of the
minister. The old man's eyes were
bent seaward in the direction of the receding
vessel, his face gloomy and morose
as hatred and rage and disappointment
would make it. If the devil, in
his coursing up and down the earth had
peeped into the rich merchants' hut he
would have found such pleasant company
there amid his coil-a-waked passions that
he would have entered at once and found
himself quite at home.
Margaret, on her part, felt no more
amiable than her father. Their pride of
family had been stricken in a tender
point! That Edgar, her handsome,
noble, high-splrited brother, should have
ever deigned even to notice one so humble
as the gardener's daughter, was amazing
to her; but that he should have not
only noticed, but spoken and visited and
formed an acquaintance, which matured
to an intimacy that led to such a final catastrophe,
overwhelmed her soul with
shame. Besides, she loved not the maiden
at all! Flora's beauty was a rival
to her own—Flora's virtues were shining
foils to her—we wont say her vices—but
foils to her negative virtues. She therefore
hated her; and if she hated her before,
what must have been the fierce
emotions blazing in her breast to feel
forced upon her mind the irresistible conviction
that that humble, lovely, good,
hated girl, was now her sister! She
could hardly decide, as she rapidly ran
her thoughts over the painful subject,
which was to injure `the family' most—
the descent of Edgar or the elevation to
its level of Flora Nickerson. Either way
she felt they were equally degraded, and
in both conjoined, doubly were they disgraced.
As she arrived, in her thoughts,
to this crisis of reflection, she burst into
tears and threw herself into a rocking-chair,
and began to sob and to rock with
great violence.
`How is this?' cried the old man, turning
round at this sudden out-burst.—
`What—what is the matter? Any thing
worse happened?'
`Nothing worse can happen, father,'
she exclaimed, uncovering her tear-wet
-- 092 --
[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]
face, and looking at him with all the bitterness
of grief and wounded pride.—
`Nothing worse can be imagined! We
shall never get over it! I am sure I
shall not. We shall never hear the last
of it. The Acres, the Quinceys, the
Adamses, the—the—'
`The Seareses,' suggested Mr. Frederick,
seeing she was at a loss to fill up
her list of great people, that, by the by,
she never visited.
`The Searses, the Appletons, the Sawrences!
Oh dear! they will all hear of
it, and I shall never be thought of. Every
body will despise me and cut me because
I have a brother who has married a gardener's
daughter! I hope the sea may
swallow her up, and drown her into its
deepest depths!'
`Don't take on so, sweet cousin,' said
Mr. Frederick, coming softly up to the
rocking-chair, and tenderly laying his
hand upon her wrist; `if your brother
has thus forgotten himself and the respectability
of the family, believe me
that I never shall.'
Here Mr. Frederick Kepper placed his
hand very emphatically upon that portion
of his buff waistcoat which enveloped his
heart, or the place where his heart may
have been safely suppose! to be. But
Miss Channing was in no mood for consolation,
and so she struck his hand away
very petulantly.
Frederick Kepper was a nephew of
the rich merchant, the only son of a widowed
sister, whose husband had been a
poor lawyer, and died leaving her a very
small pittance. The widow struggled on
for a few years as well as she could, but
finally her health failed her, and unable
to educate her son as she wished to do,
she was compelled, for his sake, to apply
to her brother, avaricious and selfish as
she knew him to be.
He at first received her with great anger,
and then only consented to let her
have double price if she would make his
shirts and do the sewing generally for
the family. This she consented to do,
and for three years continued to school
her son and support herself, when death
kindly released her from a responsibility
which had so long been maintained
through so many trials.
The merchant was not sorry when she
died. The rich are always secretly
pleased to see poor relations die off.
They seem, to them, to be their natural
enemies, watching for them to drop off
into the grave, that they may riot in their
riches. `There is one who will be no
better for my money after I am dead,'
were the pleasing reflections which followed
the knowledge of his sister's death
in the selfish mind of the rich merchant!
The condition of young master Frederick
as an orphan was all at once very
much improved. The opulent uncle
took him into his house, and as the lad
was naturally artful, sycophantic and
selfish, he succeeded in ingratiating himself
into the good graces of the only man
on earth by whom he hoped one day to
see his pecuniary circumstances benefitted.
Mr. Channing took a great fancy to
him, and as Frederick took care never to
anger him and to pay particular attention
to him when he told any of his long
stories and waited upon him like a servant,
he began soon to think he should
supplant even his more modest, manly
and admirable cousin, the true heir apparent.
The merchant, in the largeness
of his heart, flattered by the attentions of
his nephew, which he referred to a
-- 093 --
[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]
greater degree of affection than Edgar had for
him, resolved to send him to the University
at Cambridge and give him a liberal
education. This he resolved upon the
more obstinately in as much as he fancied
that his son did not like his cousin and
was jealous of him.
But Edgar never was jealous. He
had no room for such a feeling in his
generous bosom; but he knew well the
meanness of the mind and heart of his
cousin, and seeing through the motives
of his conduct, he despised him. But he
did not hold him in estimation enough to
be jealous of him. Master Frederick,
however, conscious of the baseness of his
notoriety and aware that Edgar thoroughly
understood them and him, hated him,
and would not have hesitated to have
done him an injury.
Mr. Channing at length sent his nephew
to college, and supplied him liberally
with money. Edgar was also at the
University, but two years his senior.—
There was no congeniality of feeling or
of tastes between the two cousins; and
they seldom met and never voluntarily
associated. Edger's companions were
the young men of the highest order of
talent and character, while those of his
couzin were the most dissolute.
Edger graduated with the highest honor
in his class; and his cousin left college
about the same time in disgrace.
He had been detected in purloining a
purse of gold from the desk of one of his
class-mates.
To the rich merchant, his uncle, he
denied his guilt and was believed; and
he even went so far as to say, that there
was no money lost, and that the story
was a fabrication of his cousin Edgar's
to degrade him. `For you know, uncle,
said the hypocrite, `that I had no motive
to steal when your generosity so
largely supplied me with money!'
`It would be very odd if you did,'
ejaculated the merchant.
`You know that my cousin Edgar is
jealous of me—because he thinks you
love me more than you do him; though
I should be most happy to be loved a
tenth part as much as he is by you, sir.
You know he would be glad to see me
disgraced. Indeed, I have not the least
doubt, whatever, that this whole matter
was planned by him and his friends, fellows
I wouldn't speak to, on purpose to
destroy me in your good opinion, which
I value above all the gold purses in the
world! Indeed, sir, I am as innocent as
the child of the charge for which the
faculty, doubtless influenced by Edger,
who was a great favorite with them, dismissed
me.'
`Well, neffee, never mind 'em,' answered
the merchant. `I dare say that
it was some such thing; but don't let my
son know I said so. There! I have got
another twinge of this confounded gout!
Just move the stool a little this way.
Lift the foot gently—that's it! Now
hand me my snuff-box. This snuff is rather
strong, neffee; I must have it aired;
don't forget to pour it all out on a plate
and put in the sun for an hour, and stir it
with a stick all the time!'
`Yes, uncle, I will do exactly as you
want. Is there any other thing I can do
for my dear uncle?'
`Hand me the spittoon; hold it higher:
I can't spit so far—that's it! Now take
this sponge and wipe this off my chin.
That is a good boy; if Edgar was half
as attentive as you are, I should feel
happy!'
The `neffee' thus meanly made his
way and kept it in favor with his opulent
uncle, while Edgar was wholly indifferent
to any such efforts for conciliating
his father, content with fulfilling his relalations
as a son as became an affectionate
and dutiful one, and devoted to study al
his time. While he was industriously
pursuing the knowledge of his profession
-- 094 --
[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]
Frederick was playing the fashionable
idler on an allowance of five hundred a
year, allowed him by his uncle for his
services as his lacquey. But he managed
to spend very easily twice this sum; and
the bills were paid by the rich merchant,
though always with a threat, which terminated
in a request to have his snuff-box
handed to him. In a word, the
young man held his uncle completely under
his finger, as the phrase is. He
knew his weaknesses and foibles, and catered
to them with all the skill of a successfully
educated sycophant. And all
this was done with a definite aim, not for
the present benefit alone. The young
man from the first had an eye to supplanting
his cousin in the inheritance;
and towards this every act of his life was
performed. He gradually insinuated
suspicions of Edgar's love for his father,
into his thoughts, and by and by caused
him to look upon him rather as if he were
an enemy than the affectionate son he
really was.
Edgar was not blind to this change in
his father's manner towards him, and was
perfectly aware of the cause of it. He
despised his cousin too heartily to say any
thing to him upon the subject, but he resolved
to take an oppoetunity when Frederick,
who was his shadow, was absent,
to lay the matter before him, and uphold
to him the true character of his cousin.
But his father refused to listen, after he
began to display the treachery of his
nephew's character in its true light; and
angrily charging his son with jealousy,
and reproaching him with neglecting
him, he bade him leave his presence,
saying—
`If you were the half so attentive to
me as your cousin, he could not have opportunity
to do what he does. Why do
you not do it for me?'
`I cannot, sir, always be with you.—
You have a faithful attendant in your
footman Robert Jeffrey, whose proper
duty my cousin takes upon hfmself. He
has nothing to do, and can be here. I
have my profession to pursue, and can
only be with you occasionally. And, besides,
sir, you ask my cousin to do things
you would not ask your son to do.'
Such was the termination of the first
and only interview Edgar had with his
father touching his cousin. After this
he let him go on as he pleased, perfectly
indifferent to the result.
In the meanwhile he had attained his
profession, and Frederick, also, had attained
the reputation of being the most
dissolute young gentleman in the metropolis
of the Commonwealth.
At length, as we have seen, Edgar
met with the lovely Flora, our heroine,
and love took possession of his heart. A
little while before this, Margaret, his sister
had returned from a boarding-school,
and was now at home. Mr. Frederick
had no sooner put eyes on his handsome
cousni ihan he conceived in his mind the
ambitious project to secure the whole fortune
of his uncle by falling in love with
his fair coustn, and marrying her; for
he had made up his mind to supplant his
cousin Edgar in his fortune at all events.
We have seen the character of the female
cousin as exhibited in reference to
Flora; and we have seen that it was by
no means of the most amiable kind. She
had watched her brother's intimacy with
Flora, with deep and angry solicitude,
and more than one confidential conversation
had she with her cousin Frederick
as to the best plan to get him to abandon
his visits to the gardner's.
These conversations led to an intimacy
and sort of co-partnership of feelings
between him and his cousin, which materially
paved the way to that more tender
confidence which he was adroitly
playing his cards to establish in her bosom
with reference to himself. But they
-- 095 --
[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]
could bring no scheme to maturity, for
this very reason that it was far from Master
Frederick's intention or desire to
any bar in the way of his couzin Edgar's
marriage with the gardener's daughter;
inasmuch as he very well knew, such an
event would materially contribute to the
accomplishment of his ambitious projects,
viz: the possession in his own proper
person of the inheritance which would be
perfected by Edgar in such a marriage.
The presence of his nephew in his
house suggested to the rich old man an
expedient for endeavoring to prevent the
union of Edgar with Flora, the gardener's
daughter, and so he plainly gave his son
to understand that if he pursued his aftentions
to the lowly maiden, his cousin
should stand in his place. Thus it became
greatly for Master Frederick's interest to
have the little affair between his cousin
and Flora go on without interruption. In
the meanwhile, he did his best to ingratiate
himself with his fair cousin, who
was as indifferent to his tender looks and
tenderer expressions as if he were but a
speaking automaton. She had penetration
enough to see his shallowness of
mind and obliquity of heart: and, while
she endured his society, she felt a hearty
contempt for him.
So when he would now have consoled
her in her grief at Edgar's marriage, by
assuring her that he would himself build
up what family greatness his cousin had
thrown down, he was received with petulant
contempt and an expression of the
eye of the fair heiress anything but amiable
or loving.
`Do not vex me, sir; I am in no mood
to play with monkeys.' These were the
cutting words of her reply.
`Monkeys! Who calls monkeys,
eh?' called out her father.
`My very beautiful cousin, sir, is very
witty on me, uncle,' responded the
young man, immediately coloring to the
eyes and looking very much as if he
would like to strike her in the face; but
feeling that it would not be politic to
show his anger before an heiress, whose
haud he was aiming at, he laughed very
awkwardly indeed, but still it was a
laugh, and seemed to take the answer
very pleasantly.
The gone humor of the parties was not
reoovered that day, nor, indeed, for
many days afterwards, was there any
friendly intercourse between the cousins.
Master Frederick had wit enough to see
that he was heartily despised, greatly to
his amazement, by his cousin, and that it
was in vain for him to hope for more than
half of the fortune of his uncle; and this
half he felt himself very sure of becoming
heir to.
-- 096 --
SEQUEL;
[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]
The scene of our story now re-opens
in `merrie England,' the land which is
the fountain of all our romance, the
source of all our ideas of the past, our
mother indeed, whom we still love, though
separated and independent of her. What
American heart throbs not with pride and
pleasure at the name of England? What
Amertcan loves not to talk of his old
English ancestors, whether noble or simple,
tenants of the palace or the cot?—
What American loves not England next
to his own native land? She is dear to
us for a thousand associations. Her language
is our language. Her poets are
ours. So are the painters and historirians.
Scott belongs as much to us as to
her, and to the lyre of Moore our hearts
respond as if he were an American. We
love England, her palaces and castles,
and parks; her nobles and knights, and
country gentlemen; her great men by
sea and land—her Wellington and her
Nelson are ours as well.
Let us go to England then from where
we and our fathers have all come, and
follow over the sea our hero and heroine
and witness the issue of their various and
adventurous fortunes.
The return voyage of the beautiful
vessel `The Sea-Shell,' was as prosperous
as her outward passage. Fair winds
and smooth seas seemed to combine to
waft in safety and with celerity the overhappy
voyagers to their destination.
On the nineteenth day after leaving the
harbor and lights of the Portsmouth head
and before night, was safely anchored in
port. At the sight, once more, of the
shores of her nativity, the heart of Flora
bounded with the most joyful emotions,
in which her husband sympathized. The
Sea-Shell had no sooner come to anchor
than a boat from a revenue schooner,
and another from a frigate on the starboard
quarter, boarded her almost simultaneously.
Bonfield quickly showed his
papers of protection signed by Lord Percival,
and endorsed at the Admiralty office,
when he was left alone. He immediately
landed with his party, leaving the
old man on board with his son, who had
charge of the vessel until he should return.
A post-chaise took them at once
to London, where they arrived at ten the
next morning. Bonfield drove directly
to a hotel, and then wrote a note as follows
to Lord Percival:
S— Hotel, H— Square.
My Lord,
I have just arrived in London with
Flora. I wait your orders.
Yours,
Bonfield.
The Earl was with the King when this
note was sent into him by his page. He
had no sooner opened it than he gave utterance
to an exclamation of joy, and
cried with enthusiasm,
`Your Majesty, Bonfield has found her,
and is at the S— hotel.'
`Is it possible. This is new indeed,'
exclaimed the King with surprise and
deep emotion. Go to him at once, my
lord, I pray you, and bring them hither
In the meanwhile I will go and communicate
the information to my mother, who
has already heard from me all the previous
circumstances. If you see the Duke
-- 097 --
[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]
do not at once tell him. I would like to
have him here, and see her. If she resembles
me, his grace will detect it; and
thus be convinced.'
`It is a good idea, your majesty,' answered
lord Percival as he hurried much
excited from the presence.
Without delay or hesitation he sprang
into one of the royal carriages in waiting
and drove to the hotel. He had no need
to inquire for those he sought, as Bonfield
met him at the carriage-window.
`You have done well, Captain,' he
cried. `Have you been to America?'
`Yes, my lord, and not quite six weeks
absent.'
`And have you brought her with you?'
`Yes. You shall see her.'
The earl alighted and followed him to
the drawing-room. Instantly upon seeing
Flora he started back with an exclamation
of astonishment.
`It is both the king and the Dutchess
of —!'
`This, Flora, is the earl of Percival,'
said the captain. `He is a friend of your
brother.'
`You need not introduce me, captain.
I should know her from the resemblance
anywhere's!'
As he spoke he bowed with great respect
and taking her hand said,
`Permit me to conduct you to your
brother, lady!' As he said this he looked
inquisitively at Edgar.
`This is my husband, my lord!' she
said with sweet dignity and the slight
blush that became a bride.
`Are you then married?' exclaimed
the earl, and looking at Bonfield with an
air of diappointment.
`It couldn't be helped, my lord. They
had settled the whole matter before I got
there. She wouldn't come without her
lover and so I had them married the day
we sailed. But your lordship can see
for yourself that they are well-mated!'
The king was in his cabinet. Near
him sat the queen-mother, with a look
earnest and pale. The Duke, who knew
not what was expected, was reading the
morning Times quite unconcerned. Suddenly
the earl entered, leading in the
surprised, bewildered Flora, alone. Instantly
upon beholding her the king exclaimed,
`It is the face of my aunt the
Dutchess! It must be my sister.'
The duke looked up and seeing her
gazed for an instant in amazement. He
looked from her to the earl, caught a
glimpse of Bonfield through the half open
door, and cried,
`If this be the maiden, she is the king's
sister. Never was such a likeness!'
The king hastened towards her and
folded her to his heart.
`My sister—my long-lost, dear sister!
'
The Queen-mother embraced her child
with deep-hearted language of recogninition.
The duke knelt and kissed her
hand. Edgar, Bonfield, and Mary witnessed
this scene with surprise. The earl
led them into the Cabinet, and in a few
minutes Flora and all were made to understand
that the long lost and found was
a King's sister—a royal princess.
Who shall describe the amazed wonder
and joy of Bonfield? The deep gratitude
of Mary? The hopes and fears
of the young bridegroom?
The whole story of her life was now
told to the whole party by the earl. Flora
was offered the crown by the King; but
refused it, disclaiming it altogether. The
young husband was offered an earldom
and estates in keeping with his rank, but
he begged leave to decline them. Both
he and Flora preferred the retirement of
private life. The King settled upon his
sister one hundred thousand pounds, and
she in a few weeks returned to the
United Statss with her republican husband.
The secret, at Flora's request,
-- 098 --
[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]
was hept by the King and all present. It
was only divulged at Bonfield's death,
who had written the whole story and left
it among his papers. He was enriched
by the King, and died at Boston under
the name of Captain Sart. Mary returned
to America with Flora, and still shines
like a pleasant spirit-star upon her domestic
hearth.
The royal bride and bridegroom returned
to the United States under the
name of Mr. and Mrs. Channing simply,
and put up in the Exchange, in that day
the fashionable and best hotel in the city
of Boston.
The old merchant soon learned that
his son and wife had got back again after
four months' absence, and he stoutly resolved
that he would not receive him into
his house, if he came out to pay him a
visit. Master Frederick met him the day
after his arrival and gave him a decided
cut. Margaret sat down and addressed
to her brother the following note:—
`Mr. Edgar Channing,
`I write to say that you need not
take the trouble to visit Hawthorn Lodge,
for we have resolved to disown our relationship
with one who has shown himself
unworthy to belong to the best society.
As for your wife, I trust that you
will see that she never presumes to speak
to me, should I be so unfortunate as to
meet her in the street.
`My father desires me to add, that he
has resolved to make his will in favor of
your cousin, who, though a despicable
wretch, I would rather should enjoy his
fortune than yourself. I write this that
you need not take the trouble to intrude
upon us.
`Margaret Channing.'
This letter caused both Edgar and his
wife to smile sadly; but, as the reader
may well suppose, it gave them no uneasiness.
They were, fortunately, above
the need of his father's estate.
It was not many days before it leaked
out that Edgar Channing was a noble of
high rank, and his fair wife allied closely
to the royal family of England. This
rumor was at length fully authenticated,
and attentions from the `first people'
poured in upon them. Parties were given,
and although Edgar and Flora would
gladly have kept retired from the gay
whirl of society, they were compelled for
a few days to give themselves up to it.
`What! an English nobleman? Is it
possible?' exclaimed the old merchant
when, pale and eager with the news,
Frederick bore it to his ears and those of
Margaret.
Their chastisement was severe for all
they had done, for not an invitation reached
Hawthorn Lodge from any of the palatial
mansions wherein Edgar and his
bride were entertained.
At length our hero and heroine, wearied
with the attentions they received, and
sighing for retirement, removed to a beautiful
suborban villa, where they passed
their days in elegant seclusion.
Edgar with that native generosity of
character which always distinguished his
conduct, understanding fully his sister's
motives in writing her note to him and
pitying her chagrin, called and was reconciled
to her and to his father. Frederick
was exiled from the house, and
ordered to seek a livelihood, and so following
the natural bent of his character,
he took to the high-way to replenish a
purse filled by his uncle, and emptied in
riotous living.
Edgar and Flora are still living at their
country-house, and are something in the
decline of life. They are surrounded by
a family of noble sons and fair daughters,
who little suspect that they are the grand
children of a King!
THE END.
