CHAPTER I.
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`This storm seems bent on mischief. It howls
As if 'twere hungry.'
The tide was at flood, and the rising
winds heaped the waves and dashed them
against the crazy pier, till it shook again.
The sea poured in torrents beneath the dark
corridors under the wharves, and then reflowing,
moaned and roared, chafed and
foamed, like furious beasts battling together.
It was a wild, black night on the land and
on the sea.
Before the day closed, the threatening
skies had given token of the storm, and
white-winged craft flying to port for safety,
soon filled the crowded anchorage: while
the storm-loving gall stretched his pinions
seaward, to revel in the coming hurricane.
Vessels that seemed securely anchored
sent out a second anchor to strengthen the
first; and all light spars were sent donw
from aloft. The hay-maker on the meadows
that bordered the water, hurried to load
his team, and hasten homeward ere the
clouds, so rapidly darkening the heavens,
should pour upon him its magazines of wind
and rain.
In the city, the careful house-wife looked
to her shutters that they were secure; and
the tradesman took in his flapping awnings;
and the milliner housed her fluttering show
goods. The horseman upon the road spurred
and rode at top speed to reach the city, and
even the stage coachman quickened the pace
of his four-in-hand, by words of encouragement
and warning.
At length the storm came down hastening
the approach of night, and a thousand candles
lighted up the sudden gloom of the streets.
Ere the sun went down it had become dark;
and wilder roared the winds, and heavier
fell the fierce rain.
At length after two hours' raging, the
rain ceased, but the winds howled the louder
from the silence of the falling torrents.
The waves of the harbor were lashed to
foam, and surged and fumed and loudly
bellowed among the cedar piles of the docks,
as if they would lift and toss them into the
air, while the piers of an ancient wharf that
was fully exposed to its power, bent and
swayed, as if the storm would uproot and
overwhelm it.
This wharf was situated in the oldest part
of Boston, in the quarter now know as the
North End. It projected from the end of a
narrow and crooked lane that led to the
harbor-side, and was properly the continuation
of the lane upon piers. Its length was
about two hundred feet; and one half of it
was lined with a row of dilapidated habitations,
most of them of very old date.
The wharf was therefore in part a street,
one side opened to the dock. On both sides
of the wharf, with a narrow slip only to
separate them, were other piers almost as
ancient in appearance as the one we describe,
but less burdened with houses, there
being but a long store-house on one, and
but a mere shed for storing the boats and
sails of fishermen on the other. In the slips
lay a few small craft, and numerous skiffs,
wherries, dug-outs and yawls, either secured
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to wooden pins in the piles, or drawn up on
the muddy shore at the head of the docks.
When the storm and night came on, the
wind whistled and howled, and swept with
irresistible violence over these desolate piers,
and the waves tossed the small boats like
feathers, dashing many of them in pieces,
and sinking them at their moorings; and so
strong was the hurricane that even a yawl
that was up-turned on the wharf, was righted
and blown into the dock, and the boat-shed
unroofed.
Nevertheless, there was one human being
to be seen amid the wild desolation, standing
partly sheltered by the side of the last house
on the old pier which we have described.
He was wrapped in an old pea-jacket,
tied by the sleeves about his throat; and a
glazed seaman's hat protected his head from
the storm. He could only be seen by the
occasional flashes of lightning which for a
moment revealed his face and form. He
was evidently young, and of good figure;
and his attention seemed to be fixed wholly
down the harbor, as if he were there expecting
some one to arrive.
The house against which he stood for protection
against the strength of the blasts
that swept the end of the wharf, was the last
of a row of seven irregularly constructed
buildings that extended quite up to the end
of the lane, and joined the south row of
houses upon it. Some of these houses were
two stories high, with gables and dormer
windows which betrayed the style of the last
century, and others were but one story, with
the roof shelving five or six feet over the
windows and doors, so that a person could
walk beneath, sheltered from sun and rain.
The last house of this line of ancient and
worn out file of habitations, was two stories
in height, with a high, hipped roof, and between
the first and second story was a roof-like
projection that sheltered the entrance
and the windows from rain, an architectural
appendage, called, in the language of the
old time when it was built, an eaves-dropper.
The windows in this house were of very
small dimensions, and set with panes of
glass not bigger than a child's primmer, and
those in the gable end had each a bull's eye
in the centre. This house wore the aspect
of great age, but betrayed evidences of having,
in a former day of prosperity, been a
mansion of some consideration. There was
an elaborate cornice, carved with great skill
and care, running all around beneath the
eaves, and the tops of the windows were
arched, and ornamented with a wolf's head
set in the centre of the arc; while the door
was surmounted by a sculptured oaken urn.
But these relics of former dignity and respectability,
were now blackened with age,
and were scarcely visible from the dust that
had filled up all the sculptured and carved
depressions, while a dark green mould covered
all alike.
The hour of the night on which we open
our story is early; the nine o'clock town
bell not having get warned all peaceful
citizens that it was time to think of repose.
Here and there the young man could see, as
he turned his eyes town-ward, there glimmered
a light from some upper window; but
generally the streets were dark, for the closely
fastened shutters hid the candles that burned
within.
In the row of houses on the old pier, there
was not visible a single ray either shining
from the windows, or escaping from the
chinks of the clap-boards, save in the house
situated last upon the wharf. Although the
door was fast and the shutters closed, a faint
stream of light escaped through a crevice,
showing that the house, dilapidated as it was,
was tenanted, and that the inmates had not
retired like their poorer neighbors, who were
too indigent to sit up and burn candles, or
else too weary after their day's toil.
The beam of light that escaped from the
crevice in the broken shutters, fell upon the
side of the young man's face as he changed
his position, and gleaming upon his sight,
caused him to turn towards it; but its
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brightness small and fine as the pencilled ray,
vividly contrasting with the darkness, blinded
him and he stepped aside from it, saying
impatiently in a half tone,
`Will they never put out their light, and go
to bed? It must be near nine o'clock.
Hark! there is the bell now. How loud it
rings, as if the winds that bear it along had
lent it voice. It rattles and clatters with the
storm, as if it were as mad as it. This is
the signal for quiet in the whole town, and
I hope the good folks here will heed it and
get to bed. But this wild night after all may
keep Ogilvie from reaching here. It does
not look as if a boat could live on the water.
But I will maintain my post till midnight,
and if he does not come by that time, I shall
give him up as lost in this gale, or as having
kept out to sea. It is a confounded hard
night to be on the water in. It is though
enough to stand watch here.'
Thus speaking, he folded his arms together
upon his chest, and began to pace quickly
up and down the wharf, beneath the protection
of the eaves-dropper already described.
Sometimes he would stop and listen at the
door and window, as if he heard voices within;
and then stand and watch the harbor,
availing himself of the flashes of lightning
that from time to time illumined the horizon,
to penetrate the dim distance. But all that
he could discern were the caps of the white
waves, here and there a vessel chafing and
plunging at its anchor, and in the remote
space, the faint outlines of the islands.
At length the deep mouthed bell ceased
its clamor, and only the angry splashing of
the water against the slimy piles of the wharf,
the shrieking of the wind about the roofs of
the old tenements, and the steady foot-fall
of the lonely night watcher was heard.
`It is a fearful night abroad, father,' spoke
a young girl within the old house we have
described, as a sudden blast shook it till the
plastering fell, and the candle at which she
was sewing flared till it nearly went out. `I
pity the poor seamen.'
She had scarcely spoken, when a second
strong sweep of the wind made the crazy old
building reel, while the sound of boards and
shingles torn violently off, and the creaking
of the timbers with the sensible swaying motion
of the piles on which the wharf stood,
caused her to drop her work, and rise to her
feet, pale and terrified, and to grasp, as if
for safety, the hands of an infirm old man,
who sat in a leathern arm-chair near the pine
table at which she had been seated.
`The house will certainly be blown over
into the water.'
`It is a fearful storm, child; but the old
place has stood many as heavy in its life time.
Do not fear, Jennette.'
These words were spoken with a kind and
courageous tone, as if he loved his daughter,
and would remove her fears, which were by
no means groundless; for the tottering fabric,
based as it was upon such an insecure
foundation, seemed to reel at the breath of
the blast, as if it would momently fall about
their heads, burying them in its fragments.
The attitude of the young girl as she clung
to her father with mingled affection and terror,
was strikingly graceful; while the slight
expression of alarm which had paled her features,
had deepened their interest. She was
not more than eighteen, though full that, as
the womanly maturity of her person showed.
Her figure was tall, without too much height,
and her head finely set. There was a charm
in her face which arrested the eye, and at
once took captive the heart. It was not the
beauty of her features which were exquisitely
formed, nor the soft gazelle-like purity of
her eyes, nor the glorious abundance of her
dark brown hair, that gave to her a lovliness
above her sex, but a nameless fascination in
the expression of her countenance. Sweetness,
gentleness, purity and love, were written
there like the notes of music. Yet the
gentleness of her soul was not without courage,
nor her love without spirit and character;
for the existence of these stronger feelings
was betrayed in the sparkling brilliancy
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of her glance, and in the firm compression of
the beautiful mouth, now closed with mingled
alarm and expectation.
She was clad in a simple gown of dark
calico, that fitted her rounded bust with the
most symmetrical neatness; and her dark,
rich hair was parted on her pure forehead,
and simply gathered back, braided and tied
with a ribbon of the same color. She wore
no ornaments, not even a ring upon her
small, white hand, upon which, however,
shone brightly a well-worn silver thimble, its
constant ornament.
(See Engraving.)
She stood for a moment in the beautiful
attitude of mingled fear and affection in which
we have rapidly sketched her, and then as
the winds seemed to increase and the house
to shake still more fearfully, she said,
`Father, we must escape. You will certainly
perish here should the house fall.'
`I am in hopes it will stand the storm,
child. I see you fear more for me than yourself:
so let your fears rest. And besides,
whither can I go? All whom we know live
in as poor tenements as mine, and are as
likely to be turned out of doors to-night as
we. Listen! The heavy blast has gone by,
and the old rafters stand. God will protect
you and I, child.'
`I know it, sir. I did wrong to fear and
doubt. But when I thought how helpless
you were, with a broken leg, and such poor
health, my heart leaped into my mouth as
the old house shook so. I am young, and
could fly in time, but not so with you, dear
father.'
`And you would not leave me, that I know,
my brave girl,' said her father, as he drew
her to his breast, and kissed her affectionately
upon the cheek. `The wind has gone
down. This last blow that terrified us so,
and made the rotten boards fly, was the last
effort. Have you got through your day's task?'
`Not yet, father; I shall complete it in a
little while,' answered the maiden, as she reseated
herself and took out her sewing.
Her father sat and gazed silently upon her,
his face resting upon his hand which clasped
a crutch staff. The light of the candle shone
upon his frank, open countenance, and revealed
the boldly marked features, frosted
head, of a man about fifty years of age. His
eye was yet bright, and expressive of kindness
and resolution; while the strong arched
nose and the upper lip, against which the under
one closely shut, indicated firmness and
endurance. His forehead was bald, smooth,
and finely shaped, and the expression of his
face was the subdued, resigned one often
shown by men of active habits of life who
have been cut down in the midst of their
career by long infirmity or clinging disease.
He looked patient and serene, as if affliction
had tempered and chastened the rough points
of his character, and wrought in him peace
and manly submission.
There was a certain air about him that
showed that he had once been accustomed to
a better state of things than now surrounded
him. His apparel was very old and much
patched, like the coat of a very poor man,
while the house in which he lived, as we
have seen, was menaced with a fall by every
storm of wind. But the apartment betrayed
more plainly and positively the poverty of its
occupants. Although there were several uninhabited
rooms in the house, the one in
which they were seated, with a small bed-room
adjacent, were all they tenanted, or
that were furnished; if, indeed, these two
could be said to be furnished. A pine table,
two straw chairs, patched with cloth and
leather, a low truckle bed meanly covered,
a few dishes and cooking utensils ranged in
a corner, and some half dozen books upon
the mantle, and a Bible, a candlestick and a
work-basket upon the table, were every article
visible in the room. We may add a plain
straw bonnet and shawl, hanging upon a peg,
and an old broad brimmed hat behind the
door.
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CHAPTER II.
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`Hope, with lowliness of heart, is better far,
Than full possession with a purse of pride.'
As the old man, Robert Alison, for this
was the name of the father of the beautiful
sewing girl, rested his chin upon his staff,
and gazed thoughtfully upon his child as she
plied her bright needle, he looked sad, and a
heavy sigh escaped him. Jennette looked
up from the linen bosom which she was stitching,
and smilingly said, for she knew he
sighed for her toil:
`I shall soon be done it, dear father; I
have only one more plait to stitch down.'
`But what avails it if you have most done
this? At daylight, with the birds, you will
be up and commencing another. Alas, Jennette,
I cannot but sigh when I see one so
young thus early doomed to toil, and—'
`Not another word, dear father,' cried the
young girl, playfully sealing his lips with her
fore-finger. `You know it is no toil to me,
I do it cheerfully.'
`But I can't help feeling it. How many
young ladies of your age enjoy life, and
know no labor or privations, while you—'
`Hark! did you not hear a footfall?' she
said, raising her head and listening. `I certainly
hear a step outside the door.'
`It is doubtless some fisherman come
down to look after the safety of his boats;
though it is a rough time for any one to be
abroad. The water roars as dismally under
the wharf as if it would gladly swallow up
the whole pier. There was a crash! It was
a boat dashed against one of the piles. I
hope no poor man will lose his means of support
to-night. Few of our poor neighbors
can afford to lose a skiff. I am better off
who have nothing to lose. But I am complaining,
and this is wrong. I wont complain
of my own destitution, but I have a right to
feel for you, when I see you rising up early
and sitting up late to put bread into my
mouth.'
`No, father, into my own! Can I live on
air? It does not take a dozen more stitches
a day for you than it would for me alone, and
then it renders me so happy to have the privilege
of doing something for you.'
`But you are growing paler every day.'
And it could be seen that the paleness
which we at first remarked, and set down to
fear wholly, was the settled paleness of confinement
and close application over the needle;
for there was observable no change of
color in her cheek, no returning of the rich,
blood to beautify them. This paleness gave
a peculiar interest to her face, and lent to it,
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as it were, more thought and feeling. `You
are growing paler every day, my Jennette!'
and the tears came into his eyes, and rolled
down his cheeks. As he felt them drop warm
on his hand, he brushed them quickly away
lest she should see them.
`I never liked much color, father,' answered
Jennette, in the same cheerful and
cheering tone which marked all her replies.
`I think your chest is getting weaker, and
your voice—'
`There! enough, my dear good father,'
she said, affecting an air of alarm, `you will
frighten me, and make me believe I am sick,
when I was never so well. The thought of
how happy I make you makes me well.'
`You are a noble and good girl! God
knows but for you, Jennette, I should now
be in the alms-house! `And,' he added
with a tremulous voice, `when I sit here
and watch you sewing so diligently, and
without any respite, spoiling your eyes and
ruining your constitution, I think I had
best—'
`Best what, father?' she asked, looking up
with surprise and doubt.
`Best go to the alms-house!'
`Never, never! while my hand can use a
needle, never! father!' she cried with generous
warmth, while her fingers shook with
fearful agitation. `Oh, why can't you forget
me, and be happy and contented to let
me labor for you? You know, you see how
gladly, how thankfully I do it.'
`Yes, and it is this makes me feel worse
about it.'
`I know what it is, dear father,' she said
archly, as her fine eyes rested on his face.
`You have too much pride to be dependent
on your child, and so would deprive me of
the pleasure of doing what I can for you. It
is only pride, father.'
`No, not a bit of pride in it, Jennette, except
to be proud of you! But how can I
help feeling sorrowful when I see how hard
you have to work that I may enjoy even the
necessaries of life, though your poor little
needle has brought me many comforts, too.
You are up with the dawn, and when I wake
I find you bent over your sewing, and your
hands going like a shuttle. All day you sew,
save the intervals when you cook our humble
meals or wait on me, and every night when I
go to bed I leave you at your needle. It is
too much for you, Jennette, and I am no
man, no father, to suffer you to kill yourself
for such an old wreck as I am! I had better
die and save your life.'
`My dear father, your words grieve me to
the heart. If you knew how wretched they
make me you would never utter another like
them. What should I do but toil night and
day for you, sir?' Were you dead should I
have to cease toiling for myself? You are
no additional burden, dear father. You are
a blessing to me, and may God in his mercy
long keep you with me. It is true I am sometimes
weary, but the thought that I am laboring
for you renews my strength. If I had
only myself to sew for, I should feel weary
often, for I should not have that sweet incentive
that now upholds me.'
`Well, well, you are an angel, if ever there
was one on this earth,' said her father, with
emotion, `I will not pain your kind heart
any more, as I know it does not mend the
matter. Still I cannot but wish that you
were better off in this world's goods. You
have no idea, Jennette, how a fond father's
heart bleeds at beholding his child, that
child a lovely daughter of eighteen, with a
face, a figure, a mind to adorn society, slaving
herself to the needle from sheer poverty.
If it were not that I feared God, and feel
that he does right, I should feel like swearing.
I sometimes think that a good round
half dozen of oaths would do us both good.'
`Praying is better than swearing, dear father,
' answered Jennette, gently.
`I know it, I know it, child. I pray for
you every night and morning, and for that
matter I have a prayer running through my
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thoughts all day. My love for you has become
a prayer.'
`Be assured that God will answer it, dearest
father,' she replied, bending towards him
affectionately, and resting her hand in his.
`I have no fear, no anxiety for the futnre.'
`I will try not to, love. There again is
that step. A man is walking up and down
beneath the eaves-dropper. He can't mean
no harm, or he would be more cautious.
Poor stealing a thief would find her about.
It is some one, no doubt, watching for the
safety of his boats.'
The maiden paused an instant to listen
and then resumed her stitching as the
sound ceased. In a few moments more she
completed her day's task, and without glancing
at the neatly sewn shirt she folded it up,
with a look of pleasure and a sigh of relief.
It caught the ear of her father, who said,
with emotion:
`Would to heaven, Jennette, that were the
last shirt you were ever to put a needle into.'
`I should hope not, father. If I could get
no more work to do, we should perish! I
am thankful that I find as much as I want
to do.'
`No danger but you'll find enough, child,
for the skillfulness of your needle is well
known. Let me look at that. It is a great
work for one day for your poor fingers. Do
you know how many stitches there are in it?'
`No, sir.'
`I do! I counted them in the last you
done. There are seventeen thousand and
odd! You get for making this shirt sixteen
cents! That is not quite a penny for every
thousand stitches! It is in this way you are
coining your young heart and your life, drop
by drop oozing out at your fingers ends. I
know not which to wonder at most, your industrious
patience, Jennette, or the unblushing
hardihood of the avaricious man who
dares to ask you to take so mean a pittance
for so much labor.
`He would refuse to give me work, father,
if I asked more; and there are others whom
he could employ. It is a very small sum—
eight cents a day—for you and I to live upon.
But so long as we are permitted to live together
I am thankful to have the work to do,
even at this price. I am paid two cents more
than others.'
`Because your reputation as a neat shirt-maker
has gone before you. When I was in
command of the Greyhound, little did I suspect
I should ever be keeled up not worth a
Portuguese stiver, and my dear little Jennette
supporting me at sixpence a day! Even
black Cæsar, good soul, shed tears to see you
work the other day.'
`Dear father,' said Jennette, as if wishing
to divert his mind from making painful contrasts
between the present and the past, `as I
have done my work, will you let me read a
chapter to you before you go to bed?'
`I don't care about it,' he answered, gloomily,
`I begin to think that—'
`Now don't say anything you'll be sorry
you've uttered, dear father,' she said with
playful warning.
`I don't know that I shall be sorry I uttered
it. The Bible says those who trust in
God shall find prosperity; and what is it I
have done ever since I broke my leg and
lost my health but trust in him? and instead
of prosperity, I am doomed to see my only
child sacrifice herself by inches to maintain
me and herself. If you find comfort in the
Bible read in it. I don't find any there.'
`My dear father, who do you love best on
earth?'
`You, my child.'
`What would be the greatest affliction God
could put upon you?'
`To take you from me.'
`And suppose he should bring me by sickness
to the brink of the grave, and you
should ask God then to fulfil the promise in
his word to give prosperity, in what shape
would you desire that prosperity to come?'
`In restoring you to health and to my arms,
my wise and good child. I see the drift of
your questioning. God forgive my
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murmuring. Having you, I am prospered beyond all
I can desire or think. Take the Bible and
read where you will. I will still trust to it.'
With a smiling countenance, Jennette resumed
her chair, drawing it a little nearer
her father; and taking the Bible in her hand
she opened it, and began to read in a clear
but low voice.
The blast whistled about the corner of the
house, and the waves dashed up beneath the
floor, and the rafters creaked and shook, but
she heeded nothing but the words of life
and hope and peace that shone from the blessed
page. These were some of the words
she read:
“`Oh, that one might plead for a man
with God, as a man pleadeth for his neighbor.
“`I was at ease, but he hath broken me
asunder: he hath also taken me by my neck,
and shaken me to pieces, and set me up for
his mark.
“`He is chastened with pain upon his
bed, and the multitude of his bones with
strong pain.
“`He shall pray unto God, and he will be
favorable unto him. He will deliver his soul
from going into the pit, and his life shall see
the light.
“`Behold, happy is the man whom God
correcteth; for he maketh sore and buildeth
up; he shall deliver thee in six troubles, yea
in seven there shall no evil touch thee.”'
When Jennette had done reading she
closed the book, and looked in her father's
face. Its discontent had vanished, and
peace and hope illumined it.
`There is comfort in that book, Jennette,
always something to comfort one. I hope I
shall never give up my confidence in it. But
it is very hard to believe that we shall see
good days. I have not a friend on earth, as
you know, to whom I can or will apply for
aid. I have so long been an invalid that
those who once knew me believe me dead;
for the bed-ridden is as soon forgotten
as the dead. No, no, after my rebuff last
year in trying to get aid, I have no one to go
to. I cannot work, except I sew, and make
sails, and this would, you say, irritate my
blood, and give me fever. I can't walk out
to seek assistance and make friends; and so
how we can be better off than we now are
is more than I can see. Your shilling a day,
hard as it is earned, is not going to do more
than buy us a little coffee and bread, and a
herring or two. But I will hope! One of
your hymns you sing so sweetly says it is “an
anchor,” and I am too old a sailor not to
know the advantage of an anchor when one
is on a lee shore. So I'll hope for the best,
and try and be cheerful; for I know that
gloomy looks are but a poor and thoughtless
return for your industrious toil, dear girl.
Now give me thine own blessing, and I'll to
bed.'
Jennette assisted him to his feet, or rather
foot, for one of his legs was drawn up and
bandaged, and its place supplied by a crutch.
By the aid of this and her arm, this wreck
of a once strong man drew himself with difficulty
to the truckle bed, upon the edge of
which he sat down. She then tenderly kissed
him `good night,' and leaving the light by his
side, disappeared through a door on the left,
with a small bit of candle in her hand. It
was a small bed-room into which she entered,
and, poor as she was, she had managed to
give it an air of neatness and comfort, though
poverty could not be wholly driven forth. A
small plain board table, covered with a napkin,
was placed beneath a shilling looking-glass.
A few little pictures hung around,
and a narrow cot bed, covered with a patch-work
quilt, stood against the wall. There
was no carpet upon the floor, and no pillow
to the cot. Yet this little humble room had
witnessed more hours of pure and peaceful
happiness than the tapestried chamber of a
crowned queen. In a few moments after entering
her room, Jennette was sleeping as
sweetly as if she were an heiress, nay, perhaps
far more sweetly than if she
were!
-- --
CHAPTER III.
[figure description] Page 015.[end figure description]
`Thou comest in such a questionable shape!'
The young man who was watching in the
storm, continued to pace up and down in the
shelter afforded him by the projecting roof of
the house in which Robert Alison and his
daughter dwelt, sometimes trying to overhear
what was spoken within, and at others bending
his eyes upon the white waves, as if he
would penetrate the gloom in search of some
object.
`It is past eleven o'clock,' he at length
said, speaking in a tone of mingled dissatisfaction
and impatience. `He will not be
here to-night. I may as well return to the
Inn. Yet, the light sky in the north looks
as if it would break away by midnight. The
rain has long since ceased, and that blast a
while ago, that made me think this old rookery
would blow over, was the last of the tempest;
for it has been lulling ever since. I
will go up to the tavern and take something,
and then, if it clears up, will come down
again.'
He lingered a moment, to take a more
thorough survey of the harbor, so far as he
could do so in the gloom of the night, and
was turning away, when he saw a human figure
standing directly in his path, and close to
him. Evidently, the person did not see him
till he had emerged from the dark shadow
under the eaves-dropper, for, upon discovering
his appearance, he uttered an exclamation
of surprise, and started, as if to run
away. But the young man sprung forward
like a bold spirit who knows no fears, and
grasped him by the arm.
`Who are you?' he sternly demanded.
`Don't skweeze nigger's arm kwite so
hard, massa!' responded the fugitive, in a
board African dialect, while he endeavored,
by various contortions of his body, to disengage
himself from the hold the young man
had upon him.
`What are you doing here?—mischief, I
will wager!'
`No, massa, I jist come down see if 'em
storm done rainin!'
`A likely story; you could tell that without
sneaking down here at the end of the
pier, and dodging me! you was watching
me, you rogue!'
`Nebber, massa, nebber!' answered the
negro, in tones of deprecation, `I only come
see if—if—'
`If what? tell the truth, and no stammering,
or I'll souse you in the dock.'
`Bress you, don't massa,—wy, I wet nuff
now,' answered the negro, as if he was speaking
half in jest. `I come down to see how
massa Cap'n Robert come on—now you hab
de gospel truf.'
`And who is massa Cap'n Robert?'
`Sh, massa! he lib in here—he an' Missy
Jenney; dey hear us!'
`And who is Miss Jenney?'
-- 016 --
[figure description] Page 016.[end figure description]
`She massa Robert's da'ter, and handsome
and good as an angel; ony dey 'mazin sorrowful
poor!'
`Poor, are they? So I should think, to
live in such a rickety old castle as this.'
`Best dey hab, massa—de berry best dey
can get, coz dey monstrous poor,—and massa
Cap'n he got a broke leg, and bed-ridd,
and Miss Jenney hab to sew, and get um libbin;
and she hab berry leetle fingers, and
can't do so much work wid 'em, and sometimes
dey 'mazin hard run for eatin.'
`They are? well, that is bad—especially
for an old captain and his lovely daughter.—
Is he a sea captain?'
`He hab been, onct, massa—but you see
five years ago, he shipwreck him brig, and
she dead loss, and he brake him leg wid a
spar fallin' on it, tryin' to save him life.'
`That was a pity. How did he save it
with a broken leg?' asked the young man,
who had gradually released his hold upon the
honest black, and listened to him with interest—
for the idea of an old seaman and his
lovely daughter suffering together in poverty,
seemed to move him.
`I take him on my back, and lash him on
um spar, and swim ashore wid him.'
`That was a noble act! So you were in
the brig then?'
`I was de steward, massa.'
`And the captain is now in want, you say,
and living here?' observed the young man,
lowering his voice, as he looked up at the
house in front of which they stood.
`Yes, inassa,' answered the negro, who
seemed pleased to find the person who had so
hastily seized him, was taking a friendly interest
in his old captain's condition; you see
de owners blamed him, coz de brig wan't insured,
and de owner ob cargo blame him, and
say he lost de brig coz as how he was careless—
and nobody'd give him 'nother vessel—
and dis broke him heart was dan him leg was
broke, and so he kept frettin and frettin',
and him leg nebber get well wid de feber he
puts it in. So him wife die, and dat make
him feel wusser, and den him money go, and
him furniture and ebbery ting; and nobody
help him, and he too proud to tell how poor
he be, and so dey libes here out ob de world,
like, and Missy Jenney sew all de time, night
and day, makin' shirts; and massa Cap'n he
worry 'coz she hab to sew, and dat make him
wus. But, massa, he nebber lose him brig
from carelessness! He see de Boston light,
and steer strait on him course; and all a
once blows up um fog, and comes 'tween him
and de light. But he tell by de compass
whar it be, and steer on in de fog—and jus
as he git fur nuff to turn in de channel, and
gib de order, de brig struck, and de masts
went by de board! It no fault ob de Cap'n,
and some merchants and Cap'ns say so—but
odders said it was; and massa nebber got
ober it.'
`And what are you coming here to see
them for at such a late hour, and in such a
storm?'
`It don't blow hard as it did, massa, and
you see when I heard de wind whistle, and
de rain beat on my shanty, I tinks ob massa
Capn'n and Miss Jenney down here in deir
old house, on de end ob de wharf, and tinks
I if de wind blow wusser dey may get blowed
down, 'coz I knowed how rickety de house
is, and I knowed if de storm damage it, massa
Cap'n couldn't save himself wid nobody
but Miss Jenney, and so I get's out o' bed
and comes down to see dat all am right.'
`You are an honest black fellow. What
is your name?'
`Cæsar, massa.'
`What are you employed about, now?'
`Noting tiklar, massa—I mean to get a
ship soon as I can.'
`Then you are your own man?'
`Independum as a post, massa. May I ax
if you be a Cap'n or Ossifer?'
`I—that is—yes, yes!' replied the seaman,
with something like hesitation. `Are
you willing to sail with me?'
`Yes, massa, if you give good wages. I
must charge high, 'coz, you see, I've made
-- 017 --
[figure description] Page 017.[end figure description]
up my mind to give three quarters of my
months' pay to de old Cap'n, and to make a
present ob de month's advance to Missy Jenney,
to buy her new dress and bonnet; for
half de nigger gals in Bosting dress finer dan
she does. Ebbery dime she get hab to go for
bread an' butter. Gorry, how it lighten, den!'
`The flash showed me your face, and I see
it is a very honest one. Now, Cæsar, come
to me at eight in the morning, at the Two
Anchors, in Snow Lane.'
`I know de place, massa.'
`I'll then ship you and pay you a month's
advance—twenty-four dollars!'
`Dat berry good wages, massa! Cæsar
sure be dere. I berry lucky nigger dis
night! I make Miss Jenney happy, to morrow,
sure!'
`Your generous heart, my man, has made
me your friend,' said the young seaman, in a
tone of voice that feeling made impressive,
while it deepened its naturally mellow cadences.
`I hope you will not say to the captain
or his daughter that you have seen and
spoken with me about him.'
`Bress you, massa, how can I tell him
when I don't know who you is?'
`You need not say you have seen any one.
Come to me at eight o'clock.'
`I won't miss it, sure, massa,' answered
the black, who seemed rejoiced that he had
a prospect of shipping,—more, that he could
give his advance to Jennette, than from any
selfish desire of gain. `All dark inside now,
and de house safe—and as de wind is gwine
down berry fast, I beliebe I won't 'sturb 'em
to-night,' added Cæsar, as he surveyed the
outside of the building, from which neither
sound nor light proceeded. `It hab been
heavy storm, massa?'
`Yes, and yet blows strong, Look! you
are a sailor and should know how to make
out objects on the water. Tell me what that
is in range of this post?'
Cæsar stooped, and took sight over the low
post, in a direction down the harbor, and,
after a moment's observation, while the sea
man was also watching the object with a
searching vision, he stood upright, and said
emphatically,
`It a shallop scuddin', massa, sure! But
she carry as much white foam on her bow,
as white sail on her mast,'
`I am not mistaken, then. It is the trady
craft I have been looking for,' murmured the
young man, `I knew that Ogilvie having
once said so, would run in storm or no
storm, so long as he could keep the nose of
his little shallop above water.'
`She comes on wid such a big bone in her
teef as I nebber see, massa!' exclaimed Cesar,
who was steadily watching her. `Debbel!
she half mile off, and I hear her bows roar here,
sure, massa!' he added with astonishment.
`I dare say. The wind before which she
flies brings the noise of her progress through
the water. It was this sound I heard before
I saw har.'
The object which attracted their joint attention,
was now plainly to be seen, even by
a ladsman's eye, to be a schooner-rigged vessel,
of small size, scudding with close reefed
fore and mainsails, extended on either side,
wing and wing, and steering strait for the
head of the pier. The South East gale before
which she flew, drove her with such
speed that she carried before her cut-water,
high in the air, a column of spray, looking
like a third sail in the indistinetness of night.
The sound of her ploughing advance reached
the pier like the constant roar of a water-fall.
The clouds had been sometime before breaking,
and the sky above was light, and stars
sparkled in the depths of space, and rendered
even vessels at anchor a mile distant, sufficiently
distinct in outline for their rig to be
made out. The wind, however, still blew
fresh; and before it, as if chased in from the
sea in terror, or as if she had come in express
with a message of war, the little shallop
flew! Each moment she came nigher
and nigher the pier, and the interest of the
young man in her approach increased with
her nearer advance.
-- 018 --
[figure description] Page 018.[end figure description]
`She hab lower her main sail and is luffin'
up, massa,' said the black. `I wonder what
kind ob pilot she hab, to run in dis a way in
de night?'
`There is a sailor at her helm, you may be
assured,' answered the seaman. `You are
right—she has luffed, and is lessening her
head-way. She will come to off the pier, unless—
'
Here he interrupted himself, and taking
from beneath his sea-coat, he suddenly opened,
a lantern, and turned it in the direction
of the shallop. After holding it thus a few
seconds, he closed the slide and replaced it
beneath his coat. A light was instantly displayed
on board the shallop in answer, and,
after shining a moment, was withdrawn. The
next minute the craft kept away a little, and
steered direct for the pier.
Cæsar noticed these proceeding swith surprise,
and shaking his head, he murmured to
himself—
`I better ax dis massa what he doin' down
here to-night wid dese fixin's, dan he ax me!
I don't percisely like de looks ob dese here
goin's on.'
`Cæsar!' called the young man, as the
shallop was coming down so as to glide past
the head of tho pier nigh enough for a person
to spring on board.
`What say, massa?'
`Stand by and jump on board with me!”
`No, no, massa! I don't know de name ob
dat craft; 'sides, I nebber ships till I signs
de papers!'—and Cæsar began to retrongrade,
step by step, from the head of the wharf.
At this instant, the shallop swept past, and
the young seaman leaped upon her deck. As
she gracefully rounded the pier, and tacked
to stand off, he called to Cæsar, who was fast
running away—
`At eight o'clock—the Two Anchors!'
`Yes. massa,' answered Cæsar, but added
to himself, `if I goes, I don't ship till I
knows what kind o' sarvice I'm to sail in.—
I doesn't like dis here business I've seen tonight;
and if dis is a specimen, Cæsar'll make
himself scarce. That ar' shallop 's a smuggler,
I'm most sartain. Yet, de gemman
seem like a berry nice man, and he feel berry
great deal when I tell him 'bout massa
Can'n!'
Here Cæsar stopped to watch the shallop,
which had no sooner taken the person on
board, than it hoisted its mainsail, and stood
out again; but instead of returning the way
it came in, it laid its course close-hauled to
the wind, and went dancing over the white
caps of the waves, in the direction of the
islands. Cæsar watched it till it was out of
sight, and then turned away, soliloquizing
upon the probable object which led her to
come in one such a wild night, merely to take
on board the stranger, and then steer again
across the harbor.
`I doesn't like its look,' he said, with a
wise shake of his woolly head. `It don't look
ship-shape and above board. Mischief likes
darkness and slide lanters, and such nights as
dis. But I'll go to de Two Anchor as I
promise—but I doesn't expect to see dat
gemman dere, no how. Pr'aps he means to
come back afore mornin'; I shouldn't wonder.
Twenty-four dollars is good wages,
dese days, when dere is so many to ship, and
sich few vessels goin' to sea. I'd do any
ting for Miss Jenney but turn smuggler, as I
fraid dis gemman be! Well, de mornin'
show. I glad and tankful I find massa Cap'n
and de house safe. I sure, almost, it blow
down—but it am de truf, as massa said, dat
dey did build de old housen stronger den,
dan dey does de new ones ob dese 'generate
days!'
With this criticism upon modern architecture,
Cæsar took his way up the wharf, and
traversing the lane which led to it, he entered
a narrow cross-street, which at length
brought him to an obscure court, crowded
with ten foot tenements. At one of them he
stopped, and, after knocking twice, was let
in by the dark-complexioned landlady at
whose hostel he was, for the time being,
while on shore, taking up his abode.
-- 019 --
CHAPTER IV.
[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]
`Hath the king set his seal to th' pardon?
No! Policy, he sayeth, forbideth mercy.'
When the young sailor in the watch-coat
and glazed hat leaped upon the deck of the
shallop, the mysterious approach and departure
of which, added to the display of lights,
had aroused the suspicions of Cæsar, he
was grasped by the hand and welcomed
with,
`I was afraid you would have given us up
and would not have been found. But it blew
so hard outside that, although my little “Walk-in-the-water,”
wanted to go with the lid in
her teeth, yet if I had let her run, she would
have ran under! So I had to reef close and
bring her to the wind and that half
a dozen times to keep her afloat, and you
see we are half full of water now.'
`Is all ready?' he asked of him with animation,
as he put the helm hard down, to let
the shallop move away from the pier.
`Yes, I have been very impatient at your
delay, fearing you would not come. But I
have, as you see, had faith in you, notwithstanding
the storm in which it seemed noth
ing could swim on the water but a gull.
When did you leave the cape?'
`At three this afternoon. The storm took
me just as I had weathered the Half-way
Rock, and since then, I have been kept busy
enough. If it had not been for the flashes of
lightning, I should never have found my way
into the harbor. But I watched these and
took my bearings for the next one, and so I
let her drive! But it has been a whistling gale,
and hasn't blowed its cheeks out yet. Now
let me know the news? What is done for
me? Is there any hope?
`Can you leave the deck and go below?
Here the wind blows to hard to speak.'
`Then I will wait till we reach the cove.
This is too dangerous navigation in the
darkness for me to trust any hand but
my own. You see we have to keep luffing
and putting away to avoid the vessels at
anchor about us. But I shall make the run
in a few minutes more! Have you seen
Bel?' This was asked with some hesitation
-- 020 --
[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]
and feeling, and a slight flush of the cheek,
for the light in the binnacle shown full upon
his face, which was that of a dark, handsome
and resolute looking young man of four and
twenty, wrapped in a seaman's storm coat
and cap.
`Yes,' answered the other in a half-tone,
as if he did not care to speak then about the
person alluded to.
`She is still—'
`Still firm as ever.'
`Well, I must submit as I can. I feel that
the course I am pursuing is right, whatever
her views may be touching me and my
character.'
`She esteems you and has—'
`I don't ask Bel's esteem. It is her love
I need,' replied he imperatively.
`But let it pass now. I must give my attention
to the shallop.'
Thus speaking he turned his face away as
if to conceal any emotion that might be
upon it, for his voice had been tremulous as
he uttered the last few words. They were
now close in with an island which each instant
rose darker and larger before them.
The little town and its docks and shipping
was rapidly disappearing astern, the outlines
of the town looking, in the distance, like that
of a vast serrated ridge. The shallop skirted
the island for about half a mile close hauled
to the wind and then steered direct for a cove
that was on its north side. As the schooner
entered it, the land seemed to embrace and
enclose it, and when the anchor was dropped
there was visible only a narrow outlet showing
where the shallop had come in.
The shores of this sheltered spot were
overhung by trees, and the water was perfectly
calm, for the wind did not reach it to disturb
it. The steersman of the schooner directed
her course so near a large rock imbedded
on the edge of the shore at the upper
extremity of the cove, that one could
step upon it from the bows.
`Although I lay the shallop against the
rock, I have to anchor her with the kedge
lest the ebb should draw her out,' said the
master of the shallop. `Now, Gordon, shall
we go on shore to the cattle-keeper's cabin,
or shall I listen to you here.'
`I had best let you know, Hugh, before
we land, what I have to tell you,' answered
Gordon, `for I have more to say than I care
a third party should hear, however faithful he
may be.'
`Then let us below, Croft,' said Hugh
Ogilvie, to one of the three men he had with
him. `I want you to keep the deck and hold
sharp watch. The boys can sleep, as they
have been worked hard. Call me if you see
any thing to excite your attention.'
`Aye, aye, sir! Tom Croft, 'll do that.'
responded the old seaman in a bluff, blunt
voice. `I am not a bloody marine to neglect
duty when any thing's to be done. Let the
boys sleep if they will. Tom Croft can see
more and farther with half an eye, in the
dark, than both of 'em at noon day.'
With these words the tough old tar; who
was very short in the body and neck and
wore enormous whiskers, which were only
exceeded by his montrous duck trowsers, as
wide as petticoats, took a fresh quid and
rolled aft. The two boys, who were hardy
young fishermen's sons, did not wait a second
time to be permitted to sleep, but casting
themselves into the folds of the foresail, they
were both asleep ere Tom had shut up his
jack knife and replaced it with his tobacco in
his pocket.
The cabin in which Hugh Ogilvie conducted
his guest was small, for his vessel
was small, but it had an air of sailor-like comfort
that compensated for its narrow dimensions.
There were berths for four persons,
two on each side and as they were concealed
by crimson drapery, they did not offend the
eye, while the hangings themselves, were ornamental.
The transom at the after-part of
the cabin was covered with a cushion, and
made a convenient lounge, In the centre of
the cabin was a round table, above which
hung a very handsome tell-tale compass.—
-- 021 --
[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]
Over the transom was a small book-case containing
a few nautical books, and a rack for
charts. On the table stood a pair of candles,
one of which was lighted. On the opposite
sides of the table, were camp stools.
`My accommodations are not very large,'
said Hugh Ogilvie, as he entered the cabin,
`but they will do very well for my present
purpose. Now, my friend Gordon, sit down
and let me hear all you have to say.
Here is the letter which reached me early this
morning at Gloucester. It explains nothing!'
As he spoke he took from a drawer of the
table a letter and laid it before Gordon, who
had already seated himself on one of the
camp-stools. Gordon mechanically opened
the letter and glanced his eye over it, though
his mind was evidently upon a subject wholly
foreign to it.
The contents of the epistle were as follows:
`Summer Street, Tuesday Afternoon.
My Dear Hugh:
I despatch this to you by my own servant
on horseback, in order that you may - e
ceive it without fail. Do not detain him, but
at once send him back with an answer.
I have seen the governor and as eloquently
as I could, without too far committing
myself, I entreated his clemency towards
your father. But I regret to say, he is inexorable.
He said “that it became justice to be
stern and unbending in his case or the world
would cry out that he escaped because he was
rich, and would have been hanged had he
been poor.”
`There is, therefore, no alternative but
that which—&c. &c. I cannot commit too
much to written words. But if you would
effect what you desire, you must suffer no
delay; for there are but three days to the day
of execution, as you are aware. My heart
bleeds for you while I write this. I will be
at the old White House Pier, at nine o'clock
Wednesday evening if you return me a reply
that you can reach this town by that
time; or I'll be any where else you designate;
and there when we meet I will explain
to you more fully what you will wish to
know, touching what has transpired here. I
am sorry to say that my sister Bella, is in the
same mind, and I believe, strongly suspects
some mystery is going on. I would trust her
if I dared; but I fear that her feelings might
prompt her to betray us. But when we meet
you shall know all.
Faithfully yours,
Gordon Hays.'
When Hugh Ogilvie, received this letter,
he was on board the shallop, which was disguised
as a fishing smack, and he himself
wore the dress of a cape fisherman. He at
once replied to it as follows, bidding the
messenger to retrace the thirty miles back to
Boston, with the best speed his horse could
bear him. His answer to Gordon, was
couched in few words:
`I shall be at the pier by nine to-night, if
wind and water permit. Do not fail me
there.
Hugh Ogilvie.'
We have seen at what risks and recklessness
of wind and wave he performed his
promise.
`Now for what thou hast to tell me,' he
said, as he took a seat opposite his friend
`I have waited full patiently.' And he placed
his elbows upon the table and rested his
chin in his hands, as he fixed his clear earnest
dark eye upon the face of Gordon Hays.
There was a striking contrast between the
two young men, as they sat facing each
other, the light of the candle falling full upon
them' Gordon was of slight make, with
a fair countenance lighted up by a clear blue
eye full of fire and intelligence. He was
rather pale and would have looked effeminate
but for the resolute shape of his mouth
and firm chin. Decision and energy composed
the characteristic expression of his
countenance.
-- 022 --
[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]
Hugh, on the contrary, was naturally dark,
and sun-browned still more by exposure. His
person was tall and stout without grossness,
his air bold and manly and the expression of
his countenance, that of a man of courage
and determination. His large dark eyes were
exceedingly fine, and his mouth and teeth being
handsome, he was a remarkably good-looking
young man. It was plain that he
was every inch a sailor. Gordon, too, wore
not only the outer garments of a seaman,
but as he dropped the heavy watch-coat from
his shoulders, the anchor buttons glistened
on the cuffs of his blue jacket, showing that
he was attached to the navy. But in his appearance
he was more scholastic than nautical,
as if he had explored libraries rather
than seas, nevertheless he was a sailor and a
thorough one, pale of cheek and slight of
make as he was. The buttons upon his
sleeve he was entitled to, both by rank and
profession.
`You asked me to tell you what has
transpired, Hugh;' he said after a few
moments' thoughtful silence, `and to explain
why I brought you down here by my letter.
In it, I wrote briefly that I saw the governor
and that he refused my prayers.'
`Tyrant!' muttered Hugh, with deep emphasis.
`When did you see him?'
`Tuesday, that is yesterday morning about
eleven o'clock.'
`Did you not press it upon him? Did you
take his “no,” and leave?'
`I used every argument that my love for
you, my sympathy for your father, that humanity
or mercy could dictate. He answered
that he was sorry that he could not con
sistently with his oath, pardon and release
one who had been committed and sentenced.
I plead the respectability and wealth of your
father. But he made this an objection to
clemency, saying that the poor would cry out
“Partiality.”'
`And he would sacrifice my father to this
out-cry! I am sorry, now, since I have
taken such steps as I have, that I suffered
you to lower yourself by asking a favor of
the selfish tyrant. You are satisfied then,
that there is no hope of pardon?' he added
with a faltering voice.
`None, whatever.'
`Not even Bella's influence? Oh, that
she, whom he so loves and idolizes, that she
were my friend! One word from her would
obtain his pardon.'
`I have no doubt of it. He could hardly
refused her any favor. She can fold him
about her fingers at her will.'
`Do you not suspect she has found out my
plan and influenced her uncle?' ventured
Hugh, but cautiously, as if the suspicion
were too unfair torwards the maiden.
`No, no! Bel would not take any such a
part.'
`No, she would not! I wrong her. She
is all that is noble and good. I can't blame
her for casting off a lover whose father is to be
hanged. But I am very miserable nevertheless,
Gordon! I loved her as if earth owned
no other woman.'
`Be a man, Hugh! Be a man, and don't
let tears make you play the girl. Bel loves
you yet! It is only her pride that has
caused her to show the cold shoulder to you.'
`She hates me, that is very certain. Well,
I will not, cannot cease to love and worship
her. The sweet, dear memories of our past
joy, no power not even her hate, can deprive
me of. Does she speak of me?'
`No, Hugh, yet, believe me, I know you
are never absent from her thoughts.'
`If I could only think so!' he said with
a deep sigh of mingled sadness and pleasure.
`Be sure of it! But the hour waxes late.
I am here to tell you that there is no hope
of the governor's pardon, and that the plan
you proposed and which you have matured to
meet this contingency, remains to be carried
out, as the only one to be trusted to! I will
now state how far I have gone towards
bringing about my part.'
-- --
CHAPTER V.
[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]
`The plot thickens! Be diligent and bold,
Confirm the timid by largesses of gold.'
The young naval officer, Gordon Hay, thus
commenced his narration of the part he had
borne in the plan which had been in contemplation
for the release of Ogilvie's father,
provided all appeals to the Executive failed.
`After I quitted the presence of the governor,
' said Gordon, `I was satisfied that there
remained no other course for me to pursue,
than to take the steps we had proposed, and
for which you purchased and prepared this
shallop. At first, I hardly knew how to act,
as it was not safe to trust any one with my
purposes. If I could have taken Bella into
my confidence, she has so much spirit and
courage that by her aid I could have effected
anything.'
`I am sorry that she is so hostile to me,'
said Ogilvie, sadly. `My destiny is a hard
one, Gordon, to be rejected without any fault
of my own!'
`I sympathize with you, Ogilvie. Upon
reaching home, I shut myself up in my room,
to think out the best way to proceed, now
that there was no other alternative left but
immediate action. At length I formed my
plan, and, sitting down and writing you the
note which you received, I despatched it,
and then left the house. Without stopping
any where, I took my way to the prison, and,
with as much precaution as I could use, I
made a thorough survey of its exterior. The
result was, I satisfied myself that it would be
impossible for your father to escape by any
other means than by stratagem. If files
could be conveyed to him, and he could open
the bars of his cell, he could not descend to
the ground without ropes; and, as he is a
large, heavy man, I am sure he could not get
through the small window of his apartment.
Of this, I felt very certain, and therefore
abandoned the idea I had conceived of carrying
to him in a loaf of bread, a file.'
`Could you have bribed the baker?'
`I have little doubt of it—I was in his shop
two or three times, and sounded him so far
as to lead me to believe that prompt and
large money at the proper moment, would
secure him on our side. But the height of
the walls, and the constant guard in the prison,
led me, after a close inspection, to abandon
this project.'
`And for what other?' demanded Hugh,
with deep interest. `I begin to fear that we
may fail, after all.'
`No, do not doubt! My next plan thought
of, was to obtain the keys, and so penetrate
to the cell, and release him.'
`This will be impossible. Since you have
abandoned the project which I depended on,
of getting a file to him by which he could
open his window, I begin to tremble!'
`Yet this last plan, if we had proper
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[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]
assistance, is feasible. There is an office
which opens to the street, where the keeper
is usually seated, reading or writing, and to
which every body has access. When I looked
in, I noticed that the door which led to
the galleries on which the cells were, was
open. He was seated in it, reading a newspaper,
with his foot against the post. I could
see over his head, into the very heart of the
prison-court, and got a glimpse of the galleries
that run around the lockups. Upon a
nail, within reach of his hand, was a large
ring of keys, and two enormous single keys,
bright with use. I knew that these were the
keys which could open a way to your father's
cell.'
`He was alone! alone say you?' cried Hugh,
`Then I see how it can be done. If all other
means fail, I will have those keys if I have
to grapple with the keeper for their possession.
'
`There is no need to risk everything so
rashly,' answered his friend, quietly. `While
I was looking in, a young woman, who was
passing with strawberries in a basket, stopped
and asked him if he would buy any. He
laid the paper on his knee, and said to her—
“`Come in, and let me see them.”
“`I'm afeared to go in a jail,” she answered
timidly, drawing back. But he bade her
enter, which she did do, and stood looking
round her, alarmed, while he ate two or three
of the strawberries, to try them. He seemed
satisfied with them and with the price, and
said to her—
“`Take them through that door, and the
women-folks will measure out what they
want.” And he pointed through the open
door, and along a platform that led to the
domestic offices of the prison. The girl
would have declined, but he bade her go as
he directed, and I saw her disappear in the
interior. But fearing I should attract the attention
of the keeper by my inquisitiveness,
though I disguised it under the appearance
of looking at a pair of fine horses that stood
harnessed to a dray opposite, I walked on.—
But I had seen enough to satisfy my own
mind that the only way to release and save
your father from execution, is by possessing
yourself of those keys.'
`I will do it with my life!'
`No—there is no need of risking your life,
or, by exposing yourself to arrest, defeating
the object to which you are devoting yourself.
If you should fail, and be taken up,
your father would, nevertheless, die!'
`True—you are always cooler and calmer
than I am. Let me hear what you think of
doing.'
`Finding some person who will be willing
to play the part of a strawberry girl, and who,
at the same time, will have art enough to engage
the keeper's attention, while you possess
yourself of the ring of keys, placing
another that looks precisely like it, in its
place, which I have provided at an old iron
shop to-day. I am satisfied that merely to
the eye, which is all we shall want, the deception
will be complete.'
`But, my dear Gordon, what good will the
keys do, if I get them into my hands? How
shall I, in open day, go unlocking the doors
of the prison, till I reach my father's cell!—
and how bring him forth in the face of the
keeper!'
`You shall hear my whole plan, and then
judge. As I said, our first step will be to
find some young person who will act the
strawberry-girl. The one I saw yesterday
was too awkward and fearful, even could she
be bribed. In a word, we must have some
young woman who is intelligent, courageous,
and has wit enough to engage the keeper's
attention; for he is a fat, jolly looking personage,
and I know has an eye to a pretty
face. Bella, if she would act with us, would
captivate him at once.'
`Dear Bella! if she would, I would hardly
consent to her placing herself in such danger
as detection would lead to.'
`I should not fear for her. If it were I
who was in prison, she would succeed in getting
me at liberty, I am confident.'
-- 025 --
[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]
`Would to Heaven she would co-operate
with us! Who can you get? Who do you
know, that is young and pretty, and who
would be able to carry out her part?'
`I know no one positively, whom we could
both trust, and whose sagacity we could depend
upon.'
`Nor do I.' But you have not told me
what she is to do as a strawberry girl. How
can she aid me? Am I to act a part too?'
asked Hugh, a little bewildered.
`Yes. You are to follow her in, dressed
as a mechanic, with a box of tools in your
hand, and say that you want her to take what
strawberries she don't sell, to your home, for
your wife. You will make some noise with
the jingle of iron in your box, so as to throw
the keeper off his guard, should he hear any
noise you make in taking the false keys from
your box and removing the real ones from
the peg into it.'
`Very well, so far is well; but this depends
on the charms and wit of the strawberry girl
to throw dirt into the keeper's eyes. It will
be impossible to get such an one.'
`Of that I am not so sure. But to-morrow
will show!'
`And you have seen none yet?'
`No—I waited till you come. But I have
one in my mind now, that possibly may be
persuaded, if well paid, to take part with us.
But this is to be yet ascertained. I have not,
I confess, even seen her, and don't know
that she would at all answer to carry out so
bold a plan, even should she consent.'
`But suppose I got possession of the keys—
what should I do with them? Wait till
night? By that time they would be missed.'
`No—you will act at once. I shall provide
the strawberry girl, whoever acts this
part, with a very costly bottle of perfumed
ether. She shall pretend she found it, and
hand it to the keeper, who, I see, has a covetous
eye, and he will readily grasp it and
claim it, or I am greatly mistaken. If he
does not, she shall manage to make him inhale
it; and I give you my word, that if he
but snuff the subtle fluid once up his nostrils,
he will, in a moment after, be as unconscious
of terrestrial things as you could wish. It
shall be her part to continue to apply it to his
nose, while you are applying the keys to the
wards which separate you from your father.
At the door of the jail you will have a carriage
in readiness into which to place him;
and if your horses are fleet, you will, ere
long, have your father as safe on board the
shallop as we now are.'
`Your plan is an excellent one, Gordon,
save that it ought to be carried out at night.
The jail office is never closed until nine
o'clock, that I know; as, when I have visited
my father, before his trial, I have staid in his
cell till within a few minutes before, when
the keeper would come for me, saying it was
time to lock up for the night. Would it do
to have a strawberry girl go about selling at
night?'
`No—hardly—without exciting suspicion.
I have it—she shall be a flower-girl. She
shall sell boquets, as I have seen the young
quadroons do evenings, in New Orleans.—
You are right, if it could be carried through
after night; but I was not aware that the office
was kept open so late.'
`Yes, till the bell rings nine.'
`Then it shall be done at night.'
`You are sure about this ether?'
`Yes, it is infalliable. All that is now
wanted is some young woman who would enter
fully into our plans. A young girl going
in to sell flowers would excite no suspicion.'
`But how will it be with me as a carpenter,
with my box? One of my assumed profession
would hardly want flowers for my
wife.'
`You could say your wife's cousin was to
be married, and this would be excuse enough.
This plan, on the whole, is the only one that
I can frame that gives us any hope of success.
It is an important one, and the favorable
result will depend on many circumstances
which we cannot contrive. In a great
measure, we shall have to be governed by
-- 026 --
[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]
what passes at the moment, in carrying it out.'
`Yes, and I am prepared to run all the
risks, if possibly I might save my father from
the doom that is before him. Unless this
succeeds he will perish within three days on
the gallows!'
`Yes—to-day is Wednesday; on Friday he
is to be executed.'
`Say not he is to be, Gordon,' said Hugh,
with a flushed cheek. `Never! never shall
my father die upon a gallows, if I have to
drive my knife into his heart when he is on
his way to it! No, no! I have sworn that I
will rescue him or die in the attempt. Who
is this young woman you think can be gained
over to be a party to our plan?'
`It is yet doubtful—as I have never seen
nor spoken with her.'
`Then what grounds have you for hoping
to secure her services?'
`Her poverty!'
`She shall be well rewarded. Is she intelligent
and courageous?—has she a pretty
face to ensnare the eye of the keeper, as well
as wit to captivate his attention? This is all
necessary, you know.'
`I cannot tell. I am going to see her early
to-morrow morning. I will tell you all I
know about her. While I was waiting for
you upon the pier, walking up and down, and
almost given up the hopes of seeing you approaching,
I saw a man standing near me,
who seemed to be watching my movements;
for, on discovering that I saw him, he started
to fly up the wharf. Fearing he might be a
spy, sent by some one who might suspect my
purposes. I sprang forward and seized him.
He proved to be a negro, and I found that
his business there was to ascertain if the old
house at the end of the wharf, had suffered
by the storm,—there living in it, as he said,
an old, crippled sea-captain and his daughter.
He said he had once sailed with the captain
as steward, and been wrecked with him four
or five years ago. The captain had his leg
broke at the time of the wreck, and the negro
saved his life. It would appear that the
owners accused the captain of neglect of duty,
and refused to give him another vessel—
which preyed so upon his health and spirits
that he has never yet perfectly recovered the
use of his limbs; and, in the meanwhile, neglected
and forgotten by the world, he has
been reduced to poverty, lives in that old
wreck, the Ridgely House, I suppose rent
free, and is supported by his daughter, a
young girl of eighteen.'
`This you learned from the negro.'
`Yes; and he gave me their history so
feelingly that I was deeply moved by it.—
Moreover, he showed his goodness of heart
and their exceeding poverty, by saying that
he was looking for a vessel to go to sea in,
that he might get his month's advance and
make a present of it to Missy Jenny, as he
called the young girl, to buy a bonnet and
dresses! I liked the negro so well that I
engaged him at once for you, and to-morrow
at eight he is to meet me at the Two Anchors.
He is honest and daring, and he will
evidently make you a valuable hand.'
`This young person can be gained over
if money has any power over poverty,' said
Hugh. `I hope that she can and—'
`I mean to go and see her in the morning
in company with the negro Cæsar, who seems
to have taken upon himself to be their protector.
'
`Is Cæsar the name of the black?'
`Yes.'
`I once saved a young fellow of that name
from a shark in Havana, as our frigate lay
there,' said Hugh. `But, as half the negroes
are Cæsars, it is little likely to be he. But,
should it be, he will be of great value to us,
as we can trust him fully. But it is not likely
at all that it is he. Now, as all depends, if
we hold to this plan, upon securing the services
of this captain's daughter, I hope you
will prevail upon her.'
`I hope so. But there is one young girl,
if I knew where to find her, whom I could
induce to enter heart and hand, into our plot,'
said Gordon, with confidence.
-- 027 --
CHAPTER VI.
[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]
`Love to be proven needeth not speech.
The eyes' rich eloquence mocketh at words.'
Hugh Ogilvie fixed his eyes with curiosity
and interest upon the face of his friend, as
he uttered with animation and heightened
color, the words with which we have closed
the preceding chapter. There was in the
tones and cadence of his voice, as well as in
the slightly embarrassed air of his countenance
something that seemed to Ogilvie
mysterious.
`Who is the person you speak of with
such blushing confession, Gordon?' he asked
with a smile. `Are you in love, too? You
certainly look as if you were. Whoever the
fair maiden is you alluded to, I am certain
she has taken your heart captive. If so, I
trust your love will be requited, and that
you will fare better than I.'
These last words were spoken with a faltering
voice, as if some deep disappointment
continually weighed upon his heart.
`I hardly know whether I shall be better
or worse off,' answered Gordon, looking,
with a conscious smile upon his lips at his
friend. `As I have betrayed my secret by
my manner, you shall know all, at least as
much as I know. You have guessed truly.
I am in love.'
`With whom?' cried Hugh, bending eagerly
forward over the table. `I knew it. Who
is it?'
`That is a question easier asked than answered,
' responded Gordon. `I should like
to know myself.'
`In love, and don't know with whom?
Have you never seen her even? Is it a description
of some one, or a picture you have
fallen in love with?' asked Hugh with surprise,
and the more as the sadness expressed
in Gordon's face, showed that his heart was
in truth no longer in his own possession.
`As I said, you shall know all about it. It
is a little love-passage, but one that has left
behind it an impression upon my very being,
that no time can eradicate.'
`You know, Ogilvie,' began his friend,
`that when the corvette to which I was attached
left the Mediterranean while your
frigate took our place there, she came into
the port of Boston?'
`Yes, instead of Norfolk; and all in your
favor, too, as you resided here,' answered
Hugh. `When I came home, two months
ago, I had to travel all the way from Norfolk
here. And you may be assured I made
speed, for Bella was the star before me.
Little did I imagine when I reached Boston,
that I should find her an icicle. But go on.
I can't bear to talk of her, yet how can I
help it, when she is always in my thoughts.
If you are in love, I shall pity you.'
`You shall learn whether I deserve your
pity or not. After I had been at my father's
in Summer street, about a fortnight, one
morning as I was idly looking out of my
open window smoking a cigar, and wondering
what every body was in such a hurry and
flurry about in the streets, when my attention
was drawn to a poor foreigner who was
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[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]
seated upon the steps of the octagonal church.
He had a monkey confined by a string to his
waist, and was letting it amuse itself by running
up the column. The man was full
sixty years of age, with a finely shaped Roman
head, grey as silver, and manly, but
melancholy features. Moreover, he had but
one arm, the other being a mere stump, projecting
a few inches from the shoulder.
Besides the monkey, there was on the steps
by his side a small mahogany camera obscura.
I at once saw in him one of those Italian
exiles who wander in such numbers over this
country. Several boys had gathered about the
monkey, with the antics of which I, having
nothing else to do, was much entertained,
when I saw one of the boys slyly sever the
string with a knife. In a moment, rejoicing
in his freedom, the monkey ascended the
column like a squirrel, and perching himself
upon the capital, began to chatter in
great glee.
`The poor exile no sooner heard him
above him, than he uttered a cry of fear,
and looked helplessly upward; but he could
not see him, for I saw that he was blind. I
at once felt my sympathy and pity awakened
in his behalf, and had made a movement to
rise and go to his assistance, and aid him in
recovering his monkey at which the heartless
boys were throwing stones. But I was arrested
in my benevolent intention by the
sight of a young girl dressed in a plain calico
gown, that fitted her small, round waist like
a glove, and in a straw hat and green veil,
who, passing and seeing the distress of the
poor man, stopped, and bending towards him
her graceful neck, said something. The
words were few, but I knew were full of
hope, for a grateful smile lighted up his face
the moment before so stamped with despair.
`She then looked earnestly up to the top
of the column where the monkey was. I
saw her face perfectly. It was lovely beyond
all other female countenances I ever beheld.
Her large, up-turned blue eyes full of benevolent
earnestness, betrayed a soul of purity,
truth and goodness. I forgot the exile, the
monkey, the boys, every thing but that sweet
face. She seemed to take such an interest in
the fate of the poor man's monkey, as if she
had no other thought or duty but just that
present one to get his monkey back for him,
and make him happy. But when she saw
how high up the mischievous animal was,
she shook her head, as much as to say,
“`I can't get him down from there, that
is very certain.”
`I now waited to see what she would do
The boys still kept throwing at the runaway,
and she went to them, and said with a smile,
“`You are too humane, my good boys,
to add to this poor man's distress at the loss
of his monkey, to try do it an injury also.
See! it is coming down, hearing its master's
voice. Let it descend, and if it should run
away, I will give a quarter of a dollar to the
one who catches it.”
`She had hardly got the musically spoken
words out of her pretty mouth, before Jocko
who had been cautiously descending, while
she engaged their attention, leaped to the
ground, and came bounding at enormous
leaps across the street and lighted upon the
iron railing directly beneath my window.
The boys pursued, but also threw stones.
My dog Borneo who was reposing upon the
steps no sooner saw Jocko perched upon the
fence and making mouths and chattering
at him, than he roused himself, shook
his shaggy mane and made a leap for him.
It was too successful. Before I could speak
to prevent it, I saw Jocko struggling and
shrieking in the dog's mouth. I was in the
second story window, or I would have sprung
out; but shouting to the dog to let him go,
I hastened down stairs, but not before I had
seen the brave young girl bounding across
the street to rescue the monkey from Borneo.
I reached the street door and opened it in
time only to see her take the poor animal
from Borneo, upbraiding him as she did so
in a spirited manner for being so naughty.
The sagacious dog, who had dropped the
-- 029 --
[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]
monkey as soon as she spoke to him, slunk
away conscious he had done wrong, but on
seeing me coming upon the scene, he fled
up the street.
`The brave maiden had no sooner got the
poor, frightened, bleeding animal into her
hands, than without showing fear or disgust
at having the custody of such a little monster,
she bore him across the streets in her arms
and placed it in those of its blind master.
I could hear what she said.
“`There, poor man, is your little monkey
again. It is more frightened than hurt, the
dog dropped it so quickly. Don't let it get
away again. Here is one end of the string
which was tied to your arm.”
“All this was said with such frank, good
natured simplicity, that I was charmed.
“`Here is the other end of the string,', said
I, for I was at her side as soon as I could
cross the street; and I took up the other end
of the line which she was looking for, and
which was trailing from Jocko's loins, about
which it was tied.
`She raised her eyes with a quick glance
of surprise at my face, and the deepest blush
overspread her countenance as she saw me
gazing upon her with an expression of admiration
and kindly sympathy with her own
feelings. Together, our fingers touching, we tied the two ends of the string. Again
our eyes met as she modestly said,
“`Thank you, sir.”
`The poor man hugged and embraced and
kissed his monkey with such joy, and poured
forth his gratitude to her in such broken
sentences of happiness, that I could see that
tears were trembling upon the long fringes
of her eyelids. She made no reply, seemingly
abashed and confused at my regards, and
without lifting her sweet eyes a second time,
she turned and tripped lightly on her way,
carrying my heart with her.'
`I did not know you were so susceptible,
Gordon,' said Hugh, smiling. `She was, I
dare say, a right noble-hearted girl, whoevershe
was. Her conduct towards the poor
Italian showed this. I don't wonder you
were interested in her. Did you never
learn who she was?'
`No,' sighed Gordon.
`And have you not seen her since?'
`Yes; about three months ago. I was
walking home from the navy yard, and about
twilight was crossing the bridge, when I saw
before me two young men who were stopping
the foot-way, and preventing a female from
passing. As she returned to go back in order
to avoid them, one of them got the other
side of her, and as I came up, she was
hemmed in between the two, who were
laughing at her alarm. Seeing me, she
cried with a trembling voice,
“`Sir will you protect me?”
`I instantly recognized the voice and features
of the young girl I had not ceased to
think of since I saw her rescue the poor
Italian's monkey for him. I sprang forward
and catching one of the fellows by the collar,
drew him violently backward, and held
him while she passed. The other made at
him, and would have hit me a heavy blow,
but for my skilfulness in evading it. In an
instant, I had them both upon me; and, as
they were heavy, stout fellows, and used their
fists to some purpose, they would have overcome
me if I had not thought of my dirk,
which I drew upon them. The cowards instantly
fled. I then looked round for the
young girl, but could no where see her. As
she had passed me while I was holding the
young man, she had said, gratefully, “Thank
you, sir,” and hurried on.'
`Do you think she recognized you to be
the same beau cavalier who had assisted her
in tying the monkey to the poor man's wrist?'
asked Hugh, playfully.
`I thought she took me for a perfect stranger—
but it seems she did recognize me, and
as she passed the toll-house, she had earnestly
implored the toll-keeper and two men
standing there, to go to the assistance of a
gentleman who was assaulted on the bridge
by two ruffians. This I learned before
-- 030 --
[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]
reaching the toll-house, where the two men met
me. I hurried on, hoping to find her at the
toll house. My foot struck against something,
and on picking it up, I found it was a
small morocco case, containing a pair of
scissors, needles and thread, and a sixpence
in money. I hastened on to overtake her,
supposing she had dropped it in her haste to
get some one to come to my aid. At the toll-gate
the keeper could only tell me that a very
pretty lass, as he called her, had told him in
great alarm that an officer was defending
himself against two men whom he had found
annoying her, and begged him to send to his
aid. She lingered, he said, till she saw the
ruffians run after I drew my dirk, and then
hastened on her way into the city.
“`Do you know who she is?” I asked of the
toll-man.
“`No,” said he “but I rather think she is
some sewing-girl, as she often crosses the
bridge with bundles, of a Saturday night, as
if she was taking work home.”'
`A sewing-girl! So you are in love with
some fair apprentice, Gordon,' said Hugh,
smiling.
`This was only a conjecture of the toll-man's.
But, to tell you the truth, I had anticipated
his-opinion. There was ssmething
about her that made me suspect that she was
a needle-girl; and I was almost confirmed in
my opinion when I picked up the scissorcase.
'
`Of course, then, your love-dream vanished?'
`Not so—my interest in her was only increased.
The thought that one so young
and lovely, so modest and lady-like, and,
withal, so noble-hearted, should be doomed
to a life of toil for support, deeply affected
me. I resolved more firmly than ever to
learn who she was and know her condition.
Her beauty, and her noble conduct to the
Italian, had awakened in my bosom mingled
love and admiration—and, to tell you the
truth, I believe I felt more gratification in
cherishing the idea that she was a sewing-girl,
than I would have felt had I known she
was an heiress. I felt that I could serve her
if she were poor and friendless, and love
seeks to do good to its object.'
`And did you see her afterwards?'
`I will tell you. Three weeks ago, while
I was walking through Washington street
with Bella, I saw her approaching and carrying
a bundle, and dressed in the same simple
straw hat, and a blue calico frock fitting
her fine figure with a neatness hardly seen
in more fashionable and costly dresses. Our
eyes met. To me, it was like an electric
shock. Her face beautifully crimsoned, and
she looked down and dropped, in her confusion,
the bundle she carried. It fell at my
feet. I picked it up, and handed it to her.
She raised her eyes to mine, thanked me in
tones that thrilled to my very soul. The
next moment she had disappeared, lost in the
crowd. I stood unconsciously looking after
her retiring figure, and forgetting Bella, and
all but my beautiful unknown, I was starting
to follow her, when I was recalled by Bella's
voice, who said,
“`Are you losing your senses, Gordon?
One would think that pretty apprentice girl
had carried your heart off in her bundle.”
`This was said laughingly and with a witty
raillery that vexed me. I walked on with
Bella, but with a feeling of disappointment
that I had not been alone, that I might have
followed her. Yet there was a feeling of
deep joy in my heart to know that she had
not forgotten me.'
`How did she show that she recognized
you?' asked Hugh.
`By her looks. There was no mistaking
the expression of her eyes as we met, which
beamed with a look something between gratitude
and pleasure. Besides, I saw her
glance at Bella, and quicker than lightning
there passed a change over her face, that
was not exactly jealousy, but betraying a
feeling akin to it.'
`Well, upon my word, Gordon, you have a
cool confidence in your captivating powers
that is admirable,' said Hugh laughing.
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CHAPTER VII.
[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]
`There is no book of rule and precept
To teach young hearts love's mystery.'
`Perhaps,' answered Gordon to the raillery
of his friend, touching his confidence
that he lived in the memory of the fair stranger,
`perhaps, if I had not seen her again,
and been confirmed in my confidence, I
might have had doubts.'
`And did you see her again?'
`Yes, and for the last time. It was the
same day. After I had reached home with
Bella, I excused myself from tea, and walked
up the street, with an indefinable hope that I
should meet the lovely girl who was now filling
all my thoughts. It was about half an
hour before sundown. She was going up
Washington street when I met her; and
having made up my mind that she resided in
the vicinity of Charlestown bridge, I turned
my steps slowly in that direction, hoping she
would overtake me on her return, or that
when I should reach the bridge and retrace
my steps, I should meet her going homeward.
You can see from this how deeply she interested
me, my dear Ogilvie.'
`I am wondering at you—you, usually so
grave and quiet, and hitherto so unimpressable
by female chrams. To be captivated
at last by a young sewing-girl, of whose name
and residence you are ignorant. It is time
to marvel.'
`I am not certain she is a sewing-girl.
But if she should prove to be it will make
no difference with the interest I feel in her,
but rather increase it.'
`And pray when did this mysterious beauty
appear again?'
`You may smile as freely as you choose,
Hugh. If you should ever see her you will
not wonder at me.'
`I hope I shall see her by all means.'
`I had reached the bridge and was returning,
fearing I had taken the walk in vain,
when as I was crossing Hanover street, near
Union, I beheld her going down the opposite
side. Although I was looking for her, I
was so overcome with surprise and joy that I
was for a moment immovable. She was
tripping along with a graceful, buoyant step,
her green veil half drawn over her face, and
looking neither to the right nor the left. She
did not see me; and collecting my senses I
crossed over, and followed her, intending
to give her the case I had found, thus
making it an excuse for addressing her. I
was afraid she would turn and discover me,
and take alarm; but she did not look behind,
and each moment I drew nigher to her. Suddenly
she stepped into a milliner's shop. The
next moment I was in front of it. I saw her
-- 032 --
[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]
standing at the counter, and no one behind
it but an old deaf woman, for the young girl
had to raise her voice an octave to make her
hear. `Now or never,' said I, and plucking
up courage I went into the little shop.
She heard my step, turned, and seeing me
looked surprised, deeply colored, and dropped
her veil; but I could see that her hands, in
which she was holding a piece of muslin she
had taken up, slightly trembled. I feared I
had alarmed, perhaps offended her. Her manner
indicated fear and embarassment. But
I resolved I would not give any unfavorable
impressions to get place in her thoughts, and
I advanced, and said respectfully:
“`Pardon me, Miss, but I believe you are
the owner of this case.”' And the little
morroco case, which was ready in my hand,
I extended towards her.
`As I spoke, her side face was towards me,
and her veil hid her profile. But hearing
my voice she turned, and as I concluded she
put back her veil, and revealed the sweet
countenance that for months had been mingled
in my dreams, and woven into all my
waking thoughts. The eye looked gentle
and kind, and although there was an air of
timidity in her manner she smiled, and said
in the most charming way:
“`You are very kind to take so much
trouble, sir, to keep this so long for me, if
you found it on the bridge. I am very glad
to get it again, sir, although it is of no value.
But it was my mother's.” These last words
were spoken with a touching sadness that
made me love her still more.
`I answered her, though I know I was confused,
and spoke awkwardly, that I had found
it on the bridge three weeks before, and that
I had sought an opportunity to restore it to
her.
“`And I am glad, sir,” she said, “that I
have an opportunity of thanking you for your
courage and kindness exerted in my behalf.
In another moment, sir, I should have sprung
over the balustrade into the river. I have
not thought of your service without gratitude
and a desire to see you and thank you. I
did not leave the bridge, sir, till I sent two
men to your aid, but I saw you put the
ruffians to flight ere the men reached you..”
“`I know that you did not show indifference
to my fate,” I answered, “but I could
not hope that you would now recognize
me.”
“`Yes sir,” she responded, dropping her
eyes to the floor, and drumming upon it with
the tip of her small foot. “I had also seen
you before, though of course you do not remember
the time,” and she raised her fine
eyes, and bent them upon me with a look
that I felt betrayed a hope that I had not forgotten.
“`I shall never forget the time,” I answered
with warmth. “I am happy to know
that you recollect it. The remembrance of
that moment has been a source of deep joy
to me ever since. I have not forgotten, I
shall never forget you, and to know that
you have not forgotten me, inspires me with
a hope that—that—”
`Here I hesitated, and at length came to a
full stop. Her cheeks, naturally pale, were
like roses. Her young bosom heaved like an
affrighted pigeon's. I stood gazing on her
with happiness inconceivable. Her deep emotion
betrayed the place I held in her
thoughts.'
`You should have said heart, Gordon,' remarked
Hugh, who was listening with deep
and earnest interest. `She loved you, that is
clear, or she would not have shown such
agitation.'
`I was convinced of it. You can, the refore,
form some conception of my joy at this
discovery. I felt a delight not to be expressed
at this assurance that she who had so
long had my heart would not refuse me her
own.'
`For a few moments there was an embarassing,
yet I am sure a happy silence, on
both sides. I had said all I dared to. She
knew not what to say, or how to receive my
words. But I saw that she was pleased amid
-- 033 --
[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]
all her embarassment and maidenly confusion.
Joy trembled on her eyelids, and gave quicker
pulsations to her heart.
“`Pardon me,” I said, in a low deprecating
tone. “I have said too much. But if
you knew, sweet girl, how I have loved to
think of you—how I have striven to learn
your name and abode, how I have sought for
such a happy moment as this to unfold to
you my heart's holy secret, you would not
frown upon me.'
“`I do not frown upon you, sir, she said,
as if she hardly knew how to trust her voice.
But she did not raise her eyelids. The color
however came and went in her cheeks
like summer lightning. “It is better the
meeting should not have been, sir, that we
should have—have—forgotten—each—each
other,” she continued, with an effort that
was painful to witness. “You are an officer—
a gentleman—I am a poor girl. Do not
think of me again. I wish we had never
met. Good evening, sir. If you do regard
me, respect my wishes, and speak to me no
more.”
`With these words, which seemed to be
wrung from her heart, she dropped her veil
over her face, but not before I saw sparkling
tears upon her eyelashes. They eloquently
told me how great had been the effort she had
made to banish me from her heart; for it
was plain, strange as it may appear, that we
were mutually interested in each other, and
had been so from our first meeting when our
fingers came in contact and our eyes met as
we tied the cord to the old exile's wrist.'
`I was about to assure her of my devotion,
and that humbleness of station would never
influence me when my heart was interested;
but she was already gone. The moment she
had dropped her veil, and the soft mellow
tones of her voice had ceased to fall on my
ear, she hastened from the shop.
`My first impulse was to pursue her. But
I feared I should offend her, and this apprehension
arrested my steps. But I determined,
by following at a distance, to learn where
she resided, for I had given my happiness into
her keeping, and I made up my mind on
the spot that if her poverty should prove the
only bar to an honorable union with her, I
would offer my hand as she already had possession
of my heart.'
`This is a romantic passion of yours, on
both sides, Gordon,' said Hugh, `and what
became of her?'
`I stopped to ask the old woman of the
shop who she was; but I had to shout so loud
in her ear, that I abandoned the idea of getting
information in this vociferous way; and
so, giving the lovely girl, who had more and
more charmed me by her propriety of behavior,
as well as increased my love for her
by so artlessly and frankly confessing an interest
in me, giving her three or four minutes
time, I left to pursue her. But she had
effectually eluded my sight, and although I
have been in that street and others in the
vicinity every day since, I have not seen her,
nor could I ascertain who she was.'
`Perhaps she is an evil spirit sent to tempt
you, Gordon,' said Hugh, gravely.
`She is an angel rather, given to earth
to bless it with her presence. She is
very lovely. Her face is a faultless oval, and
her brown hair is parted above her sweet
brow, and is braided in a knot behind. Her
compiexion is pure and warm, though pale,
as if from too close confinement; for I have
now no doubt that she is a needle-girl. Her
mouth is very beautiful; its shape like Cupid's
bow, and the full mellow lips blush like
cherries. The smile that plays about it is
like the light of joy beaming through. Her
teeth are rows of dewy pearls, and her voice
has a low, harp-like sound that one could
listen to with a sense of delicious enjoyment.
Her figure is slighter at the waist than Bella's
but fuller at the bust, and she is perhaps half
an inch under her height. And though a
sewing-girl, as she may be, her hands are as
small and white, and the fingers as symmetrical
in their taper shape as Bella's. And her
foot, though the shoe was something well
-- 034 --
[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]
worn, was gracefully moulded, narrow, arched
and exquisitely diminutive.'
`I see clearly enough, Gordon,' said Hugh,
laughing, `I see that you are irrevocably in
love. But do you, in good faith, mean to
pursue this romantic passion. You, a rich,
fashionable, aristocratic young man, a lieutenant
in the navy, and whose attentions the
proudest beauty in the land might covet; you
to fall in love with a poor sewing-girl because
she is pretty, and has skill in capturing runaway
monkies!'
`You may ridicule me as much as you
please, See the maiden, and you will then
envy me in the possession of so lovely a
prize.'
`It may be so. But while I love Bella,
cruel and cold as she is, I shall envy no one
another. It is this young girl, then, you
think might be obtained to act the part of
flower-girl in our project for my father's release?
'
`No, no; I have already told you that I
neither know her name, nor where she resides,
though it is my impression it is somewhere
in the vicinity of the shop on Hanover
street, where I last saw her. I merely said
that if I knew where she was, and could see
her, I might waken her pity for your father,
as it has moved the old exile, and so get her
to aid you.'
`Then, pray who did you allude to? You
spoke of some one.
`This captain's daughter, whom black
Cæsar told me lived at the end of the wharf,
and who, with her father was so needy. I
am going with him to see her, and try if
money will not prevail upon her to consent to
take part with us.'
`It is all uncertain, then. I wish you
could see the other one. I have no doubt
she would, as she is so good hearted, aid me,
if all were told her. When shall I see you?'
`I will go back in your boat to the city
when the sun rises, and go up to the Two
Anchors to breakfast; for I told you that I
took a room there, as a mate waiting for a
ship. This is a convenient place to make
my observations from, and to bring your
father to, and conceal him, should he escape
from prison, till he can embark.'
`It is a wise step in you. You then will
return, and I will be here to hear what you
have to report. For this purpose keep the
boat till you know the result, and what can
be done. I shall be ready at any moment to
do my part.'
`Can you see the wharf from the shallop?
'
`No, but I can from the door of the cattle-keepers
shed on the island.'
`Well, be on the lookout just at dark. I'll
show a light, and raise and lower it on the
pier head, when you are to stand in with the
shallop. Can you remain here in the cove
without suspicion during the day?'
`After the boat returns that takes you to
town, I shall sail out and drop down to the
fishing ground a mile below; and towards
sunset return to this station again. I hope
that you will succeed. If your plan can't be
carried out, you must try another. My father
must be saved at all risks, if, as I said, from
the foot of the gallows.'
`Nothing on my part shall be wanting, my
dear Oglivie, to effect his liberation, as you
well know. My friendship for you, my confidence
in your father's innocence of crime-leads
me to the risks I am now running. But
no personal considerations shall influence
me to lessen my exertions. I am in hopes I
can obtain the services of this captain's
daughter for money, of which I shall not be
sparing. If I cannot, some other mode will
be devised. I will let you know by ten o'clock
what I have done. If I fail in one I will
adopt another scheme. By the time you see
my signal light I shall have effected something
in which we can place confidence.'
`I heartily trust so,' answered Hugh, as
he rose up to go on deck.
The storm had passed over. The stars
were shining, the winds were still, and the
waves settling to repose.
-- --
CHAPTER VIII.
[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]
`The humblest servant is oft the surest.'
The ensuing morning about eight o'clock
a man with a patch over his eye and dressed
in the ordinary costume of a ship's mate entered
the tap-room of the Two Anchors, and
was passing into a little passage which led
up stairs, when the host called to him—
`Avast, there, mate! There's been a black
fellow here, who said he had engaged to ship
with a mate as put up here; and as you are
the only one, I told him to wait till you come
in; for I said you hadn't been in since yesterday.
'
`Where is the man?' asked Gordon Haysturning
towards the landlord who was mix,
ing a can of grog behind his bar, for a knot
of sailors that were seated by a low window
in the corner, overlooking the water.
`He said he would call again, sir! a likely
fellow and make you a good hand. When
do you expect your brig round from York?'
`I hardly know!' evasively answered Gordon.
`Well, you'll find the Two Anchors a
snug sailor's home as you own cabin, so long
as you stay with me; though you have not
taken a meal here yet, and hardly slept here,
for that matter.'
`I have friends in town, and my business
calls me a good deal away.'
`Yes, yes! I dare say,' answered the landlord
with a twinkle of the eye and a sly wink.
`Young mates just in from sea generally have
enough to keep them busy. But every man's
business is his own. Shall I send the black
fellow up to your room when he comes in?'
`Yes,' answered Gordon, and left the tap
to go up stairs, glad to escape further conversation
with his landlord, with whom, as
the reader has understood, he had only engaged
a room temporarily in order to aid him
in his plans. He had reached the city at
two in the morning and gone at once to his
own princely residence in summer street,
and after a few hours sleep he had left for
the inn to meet the negro Cæsar.
The room into which he retired from the
tap, was a small, dark apartment, ill-lighted
by a single window which commanded not
only a view of the harbor, but of the island
a mile and a quarter distant where the shallop
was concealed. He could also see on
his right the extremity of the old wharf which
we have described as the site of the house
where Robert Alison and his daughter dwelt.
He walked up and down the chamber
deeply meditating upon his projects and devising
a dozen other schemes in case the
present one should fail. Suddenly he heard
a step on the stairs, and a loud voice:
`Go right up, man, and turn to the left-first
door.'
`It is the negro!' exclaimed Gordon. Now
shall I soon know whether this young girl
will aid us or not.'
`He threw open the door and Cæsar stood
before him at the head of the stair-way.
`Be dat you, massa capitan?' inquired the
negro, as if doubtful whether he recognized
the person he had seen the preceding night.
`Come in, Cæsar! I have been expecting
-- 036 --
[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]
you,' said Gordon. `You have been here
once before?'
`Yiss, massa,' responded Cæsar, as he entered,
doffing his old red cap and bowing
with the excess of African politeness, `I
bin here leetle bit time ago, and not findin'
massa in, I takes leetle walk to see a frien'
ob mine as black boots for a libin', what lib
up de lane.'
`Well, Cæsar, I promised to ship you last
night,' said Gordon, as he carefully shut the
door and placed himself in a chair by the
window.
`Yiss, massa! Twenty-four dollars month!'
answered Cæsar grinning from ear to ear.
`Twenty-four was it, I thought it-was
twenty.'
`Twenty-four, massa.'
`Well, I agree to it! But do you know in
what service you are to ship?'
`I hopes berry `spectable, massa, seein as
how massa look like a gemman.' answered
Cæsar, with a look of slight misgiving.
`What kind of service would not be respectable,
Cæsar, in your notion?' asked
Gordon, smiling.
`Wall, massa,' responded Cæsar with a
deliberatum and rolling the white of his eyes
around the walls, to the ceiling and then out
of the window, as if looking for something
to hang his answer on, `wall, I should tink
smugglin' wasn't 'spectable; nor piratin';
nor privateerin' under Captain No-man's
flag.'
`Very well! Then you take me for smuggler,
you rascal?' said Gordon, with amazement.
`Not zactly, massa, but—'
`But what?'
`Last night I tink dar is something 'spicious
bout you, massa! But den I wants de money
berry much for Missy Jenny, and so I
says, I'll go and see what you be, and if it
aint hangin' I'll ship.'
`You are very cautious, Cæsar.'
`Has to be, massa. All poor nigger hab
in dis world be him caracter to support! If
massa, please, I'd like to know whar your
ship be, and whar she bound, and how long
de voyage.'
`Well, you shall know shortly. I would
first inquire of you about this young girl,
this captain's daughter.'
`Missy Jenny, massa?'
`Yes. What is her name?'
`Jennette, massa.'
`Jennette! And her father's?'
`Alison! Missy Jennette Alison, daughter
ob Cap'n Alison, massa.'
`You say they are very indigent.'
`Berry how much, massa?' asked Cæsar
with a stare.
`Very poor you say they are?'
`Berry, massa! Cap'n hant yarned a dollar
this three years, and his da'ter support
him and hersef sewin'. Dar ant in all Bosson,
massa, sich a fine young lady as Miss
Jenny. She is up in de mornin' yairly to
her work, and nebber goes to her bed till
long arter de watchmen come on deir beat.
But, massa, dere so many white women sewin'
dat work berry cheap, and Miss Jenny
hab work all de time hard as a nigger to
get enough for both to eat and wear, and
pay de rent.'
`Have they no friends to assist them?'
`Massa, hab a rich sister, married a lawyer,
but she berry proud and turn her back
on him soon as de marchant said he lost his
ship by bein' careless; and when arter he
got poor he sent Jenny to her, four year ago,
to borrow some money, she treated the child-like
a beggar's brat come to her for cold wittals.
It near broke de Cap'ns heart. Wall,
things got pretty bad, and when he saw Jenny
getting sick for working too close, he
made up his mind to call and ax an old friend
who was a marchant. But de marchant sent
him back such a letter he nebber hab de
heart to write agen. So Jenny say she support
him altogether. But poor litty lady she
hab more dan she can do.'
`I really pity them!'
`It make me berry sorry to see em, massa,
-- 037 --
[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]
when I come home from my last voyage
and find em out! Cap'n berry proud,
wouldn't tell poor nigger how bad off he
was; but I guess it, for ebbery ting speak
berry plain!—no chairs—no tables—no bed—
ebbery ting berry bad, massa! So I axes
Miss Jenny, and she tell Cæsar all about it!
So when I hear it I berry mad at myself coz
I brought home only little money, coz I had
been gone four years; but nigger spend all
him pay in foreign ports. But I hab sixteen
dollars and try and make Miss Jenny
take it; but she refuse, so I tell her it is
for her father, and if she don't take it I'll
throw it in de dock. So she take it and buy
cheap table, chair and bed, and dat all dey
hab.'
`How come they so destitute?'
`Landlord took ebbery ting day afore I
came home, massa! Strip em complete.'
`When did you give her this?'
`Three weeks or four ago, massa! Now
I wants to ship and give em my advance and
dat'll make em lectle more comfortable, massa;
and I'll leave 'structions behind, massa,
to have ebbery dollar ob my month's pay
paid over to Miss Jenny when I'm at sea.'
`You are a noble fellow, Cæsar. There is
a purse of gold, in it you will find fifty dollars!
I give it to you as a bounty, not as
your first month's advance; for I don't know
that you will ship when you know in what
craft you will go.'
Cæsar's eyes opened as large as those of
an ox, when he felt the undoubted weight of
gold in his palm and saw it shinning yellow
through the strings of the purse. He looked
at the coin and then at the giver with incredulous
wonder mixed with an indefinable
joy.
`What! Give dis gold to Cæsar as bounty!
Why massa! nigger oberwhelm! Massa
joke.'
`No, Cæsar! I am serious. I give it to
you, that you may be able to assist the persons,
your friends, in whose distress you have
so deeply interested me.'
`But, massa—'
`Well, Cæsar!'
`I ant shipped yet, massa! And—'
`Well, out with it! Why do you hesitate?
'
`Dis looks berry suspicious, master!' answered
Cæsar, shaking his head, and looking
side-ways at the gold.
`Your first idea of my being a smuggler
or pirate has come over you.'
`To tell de libbin' truf, massa capitan, it
hab!' answered Cæsar, with emphasis.
`Well, my good fellow, you may set your
mind at rest upon that subject. I am no
smuggler, pirate, nor privateersman.'
`Den what trade am massa's ship 'gaged
in?'
`Can you keep a secret, Cæsar?'
`Yiss, massa!'
`Will you keep the secret I am about to
relate to you?'
`Yiss, massa, if it don't be bout murderin'
nobody.'
`I applaud your caution, Cæsar. Know
then that I have a young friend—who—who
is in love.'
`Yiss, massa! young gemmen berry often
dat way.'
`Well, the young lady doesn't exactly feel
as he does.'
`I understand, massa;'
`Now, you know, Cæsar, that it is the
most natural thing in the world for the young
man to wish her to love him.'
`Yiss, master.'
`And that he should think that if she saw
more of him and knew him better, she could
not help loving him! Do you comprehend,
Cæsar?'
`Parfectly, massa! I und'stan'!' answered
Cæsar, who had listened with attention,
his mouth open devouring every word.
`Well, the only way he can bring this
about is to try and get her into his possession,
that she may see what a noble young
man he is and how worthy of her love on
better acquaintance.'
-- 038 --
[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]
`Yiss, massa!' nodded Cæsar.
`Therefore it would be the most natural
thing in the world for him to get a small vessel,
say the shallop you saw me get on board
of last night, and come to Boston after her
and try and get her on board that he may run
away with her.'
`Berry nat'ral, massa, berry much so.
Now I begins to onderstand 'bout de shallop
dat make me so 'spicious ob you, massa! Dat
was de young gemman's den?'
`It was the young gentleman's shallop.
He is waiting down the harbor to day for his
passenger. He wants another hand to help
him work his craft, in addition to the man
and two boys he has. It is for his service I
would ship you. It is uncertain how long
you may be wanted; but not more than a
month or two. If you are faithful, however,
you shall always find in both him and myself
a fast friend.'
`And when does de young massa expec' to
run away wid de young missis?'
`Perhaps to-night. Will you take part
with us? That fifty is but a trifle of what
you will be paid.'
`Yiss, massa! Cæsar will do just as you
say.'
`Then, perhaps, I may further trust you!'
added Gordon to himself, as he paced up
and down the room with a thoughtful air,
while Cæsar, all his suspicions removed, was
delightedly counting over the purse of gold.
`Indeed I shall have to trust him instead of
deceiving him, as I have just done, if I expect
the co-operation of this young girl, who
will doubtless be more influence by what he
will say, than by anything I can urge. I
see that I must make a full confidant of him
as well as her, perilous though it will be, if
I would enlist her. He is an honest fellow
and I may be able to awaken his sympathies.
I will not garble the matter! He shall know
all, keeping what he has! Cæsar!'
`What, massa.'
`I have not told you all! I am afraid to
trust you.'
`I'll be true, massa.'
`Do you believe in God?'
`Sartain, massa! How can nigger ebber
be libbin without dar be God?'
`Well, swear to me and say that you hope
He will never have mercy on you, if you reveal
the secret I am about to tell you.'
`I swear it, massa capitan!' answered
Cæsar whose heart the shining gold had
wholly won.
`Then listen! The object which brings
the shallop here, is not altogether what I
have stated; indeed we will not think of
that.'
`No, massa.'
`The captain of that shallop is a young
seaman—a man beloved by me, for we have
sailed together. His father lies in prison under
sentence of death. The crime he committed
was stopping the mail, not to rob it,
for he was rich and respectable, but in order
to obtain possession of a letter in the bags
which involved the estate and character of
one very dear to him. He was so unfortunate
as to wound the mail-carrier, though he
obtained the letter he wished so much for.
The mail-carrier died, I am sorry to say, and
the gentleman was arrested, tried, convicted
and sentenced to die. His son you saw in
the shallop last night. He is waiting to effect
his father's release to-night or to-morrow
and convey him away by water to a place
of safety. I know you are too good-hearted
to refuse your aid in this case. His father
intended no crime, but only to save a family
from ruin. In the attempt to save others he
ruin himself. Will you give his son your
aid in sailing the shallop, should he be so
fortunate as to get his father safely on board?'
`Yiss, massa.'
`You shall have gold uncounted! May
I trust you now further?'
`Whatebber massa please! I berry grad I
can do something for de poor gemman.'
`I have then, one more thing to propose
to you, Cæsar;' said Gordon with peculiar
emphasis.
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CHAPTER IX:
[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]
`It is better to give than to receive.'
`And what is um massa perpose?' said
Cæsar, after Gordon had spoken, seeing that
he remained silent and undecided whether to
speak further or not. `I ready to do any
ting for you, massa, coz I knows you be a
berry nice gemman.'
`Well, Cæsar, what I have to propose is
this: `Before we can succeed in getting the
father of my friend from prison some stratagem
must be resorted to; do you understand
what I mean by stratagem?'
`Oh, yes massa. It am—am—am—it am a
sort ob a cheat! dust in um eye!'
`You have it, Cæsar. The keeper of the
jail must have dust thrown in his eyes.'
`Yah! yah! yiss, massa. I see 'em now.
But who hab you for frow de dust—make the
stratagery?' asked Cæsar, with great interest.
`My plan is this: The jail has an office on
the street which is kept open until nine o'clock,
and the keeper usually is found there, with
the inner door to the prison open. Over
this door hangs the prison keys.'
`Yiss, massa, I sees 'em now.'
`You do, hey?'
`I means in de maginashum, massa.'
`I have obtained a bunch of keys precisely
like those in size and shape. Now if we
could get possession of those keys we should
be able to effect our purpose if other things
favor us.'
`'Spose Cæsar go in and knock de keeper
down and snatch de keys, massa?'
`You are a faithful fellow, Cæsar. But
that would not do. There must be no violence
used; and besides, violence would defeat
our object. What would you do
with the keys after you had knocked
the keeper down and seized upon them?'
`Go in and unlock old massa's cell and let
him out.'
`And in the meanwhile be locked up
yourself. You could not knock him down in
an open office on the street without peril.
You would be seen. Some other way I have
hit upon; one far more quiet, and likely to
succeed.'
`Wat dat, massa? I see dat it wont do to
knock um down.'
`No, I have thought if I could find some
young woman who would consent to act the
part of a strawberry or flower girl and go in
and offer the contents of her basket for sale,
she might manage to let him smell of a bottle
which I have also prepared, of which if a
man smell but once he shall become insensible
the next moment.'
`Dat berry nice, massa. Dat better dan
knock um down. It make no noise.'
`Yes; but the difficulty remains as to obtaining
such a person. I want a young woman
who will not be rudely driven away by
the keeper; for she must succeed in holding
him in conversation. Do you know, Cæsar,
of any one who, for fifty dollars, would take
this part, and whom we could safely trust?'
The negro started, as if with a pleasurable
idea, then seemed to hesitate, and shook
his head.
`I did tink ob de captain's daughter, Miss
Jenny; but I'd rather she no put herself in
such danger, massa. It nebber do. If she
be taken up they hang her. No, no massa,
not her. Somebody else.'
`I know of nobody else, Cæsar. Think
of the fifty dollars I offer her. Think of her
destitution. She would hardly thank you for
-- 040 --
[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]
refusing her such an offer. Besides there is
no danger. Who will ever suspect her, though
we should fail, of having had anything to do
with it?'
`Dat berry true, massa,' answered Cæsar,
thoughtfully. `If she will go, she be berry
best person you can get, massa.'
`Will you go with me to see her, that I
may ask her? Perhaps when I see her I
may not be satisfied that it will be safe to
trust her; for we must have one who is sensible,
courageous, quick of wit, and self-possessed,
as well as sufficiently interesting in her appearance
to attract the eye of the keeper
and induce him to gossip with her.'
`Miss Jenny all dat. But, massa, `de
captain may not like to hab her go.'
`I can but try, Cæsar. You must not betray
me, now, for I am going with you as a
common sailor, and you must pass me for one
of your shipmates.'
As Gordon spoke, he went into a closet,
and took from a trunk an ordinary suit of
seamen's clothes, jacket and duck trowsers
well tarred, and, removing his pea jacket,
drew them on over his uniform. He also added
a huge pair of false whiskers and settled
the patch over his eye more securely. With
his tarpaulin cocked to one side, he re-appeared
before Cæsar, so metamorphosed that
the surprised black started back, exclaiming:
`Bress my soul, dat ont you sure enuff,
Massa mate?'
`Yes,' answered Gordon, `it is me, Cæsar.
I go in this disguise that I may not be recognized
by the captain, should he have ever seen
me, or that should my errand fail, I may not
be afterwards recognized. It becomes me
to be safe in every movement I make.'
`Yiss, massa mate,' answered Cæsar, grinning
as he surveyed him from head to foot
`sure enuff, you look just like one ob my
shipmates. I nebber 'spect you was ebber
mate ob a ship.'
Gordon secretly smiled as he imagined
what Cæsar's surprise would be did he know
that he was an officer of the navy, and that
his mate's costume was only a disguise.
`Come, Caesar, let us go; we have but
little time to spare.'
They passed down stairs together, and
walked out through the crowd of tars in the
tap-room unnoticed, so many were constantly
coming and going at the Two Anchors. On
reaching the street, Cæsar took the lead,
and soon conducted Gordon to the end of
the pier where Robert Alison dwelt. It was
about nine o'clock in the morning when
they reached the sunken doorway, The
shutters of the corner room were opened to
the fresh air that blew from the water, and on
the window Gordon noticed a little geranium.
`She has-taste; she is good hearted and
kind, for she loves flowers,' he said, half
aloud.
`Are you ready, massa mate?' asked Cæsar,
as he laid his hand upon the latch.
`You forget; you must call me shipmate,
or Jack,' warned Gordon in a low tone.
`Knock, and let us go in. You can say you
merely brought me with you to have a chat
with the captain, and then leave all to me.'
`Yes, mas—I mean shipmate,' said Cæsar
correcting his error, and then opening the
outer door, which led into a dilapidated entry,
Upon the left was a door at which he
tapped lightly.
`Come in,' called a man's voice in rather
feeble and husky tones.
Cæsar opened the door and entered the
room which we described in the scenes of the
evening before. Robert Alison was seated
facing the entrance, with his broken leg supported
on an old box. He was smoking, his
only luxury, to pay for which he had of late
made little paper boxes, and sold them to a
match seller for a penny the half dozen,
upon seeing who it was that opened the
door he half rose, his face beamed, and with
a smile, and in grateful tones he cried:
`How do you do, Cæsar? You never forget
to come and see your old captain, if he
-- 041 --
[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]
is keeled up, and condemned as unseaworthy.
I have at least one friend left, and there is
my hand, Cæsar, for though your skin is
black, your soul is as white as an angel's.'
`I hopes I sees you well, massa captain,'
said Cæsar, as he respectfully shook the captain
by the hand, at the same time uncovering
his head to him.
`Tolerably, and better by twenty degrees
for seeing you. But who have you astern here
with you?' asked Capt. Alison, catching sight
of Gordon, who had stopped to arrange his
huge false whiskers and cover his eye, for he
felt that it would be imprudent to expose himself
to any subsequent recognition if his plan,
after being proposed to the captain, should be
disapproved of.
`This is a shipmate, captain; I thought
I'd bring him along to see you.'
`Glad you did. Have a chair my lad,
though I have only one to offer you. Cæsar,
you take a seat on this box here, but be careful
of my foot.'
`Don't your leg get any better, massa?'
`No, not that I see. There is that same
issue running, and keeps me down. I never
expect to be any better, Cæsar, till I'm laid in
my grave. The world and I have parted
hawsers, Cæsar, and the sooner I am sewed
up in my hammock the better.'
`Shouldn't talk so, massa cap'n. You should
keep fair weather abeam for Miss Jenny's
sake.'
`I'd do anything for that dear child's sake,
Cæsar. But I don't, when I can help it, let
her hear me talk so desponding. She's now
gone up town.'
`I berry sorry; I want to see her, coz I got
someting make her berry happy, massa. When
she come back?'
`Soon; she has gone to take home some
shirts she has made, and get more work. More
and more work it is for the poor child every
day. But I do wrong to complain so before
a stranger. Are you long from sea, my man?'
he asked, turning to Gordon, who had been
gazing from the fine looking old seaman round
upon his wretched quarters with the deepest
commisseration and interest in him and his
unknown child. He thought, too, that he
recognized the features, pale and thin though
they were, and evidently much altered from
their healthy aspect; and as the captain spoke,
he was endeavoring to recollect where he
could have seen him.
`A few weeks, sir,' he answered, respectfully
touching the front of his tarpaulin, which
he did not wish to remove as it aided his disguise.
`What ship?'
`The Macedonian.'
`That is a frigate.'
`Merchantmen is sometimes named it, massa,
' answered-Cæsar, who wondered his ship-mate
should have given such a name, when it
was evident from his dress that he was a fore-mast
man of a merchant ship.
`Have you been long lame, sir?' asked Gordon,
resolved in his turn to become questioner
as the safest course.
`Going on five years,' answered Robert
Alison, with a heavy sigh. I thought you
had told him all about me, Cæsar, by bringing
him,' he added impatiently, as if he did not
wish to refer to the past.
`Yiss, massa, and see what he has make you
a present of. He gave me dis to gib you, soon
as he hear 'bout you and Miss Jenny.'
And Cæsar took the purse from his pocket
and poured the gold out of it into the captain's
mechanically.
`How's this? Where did this come from?'
he cried, trembling with joy and doubt, and
looking first at the gold, then at Cæsar, and
then in the face of Gordon. `This gold is
not for me.'
`Every dollar and dime of it, massa,' answered
Cæsar resolutely, at the same time
tossing the empty purse back to Gordon,
`It all for you and Miss Jenny. I was gwine
to keep it till she comed in, and see her eyes
sparkle as I guv it to her; but seein' as how
you didn't like my shipmate's question, and
afeard you'd not like him from the first, I
-- 042 --
[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]
outs wid it. So you see he your true frind,
massa cap'n.'
`But, but—I—I can't receive this money.
It's all the generous fellow's wages. No, no.
You must give it back to him, Cæsar. Here,
take it my noble man. God bless you! but
I can't rob you, poor as I am; I can't make
you poor even to lighten my child's toil.
The rich can give, but this is at least a half
year's savings of your toil. Keep it my
man, and God will reward you as much as if
I had accepted it.'
`It is not mine to receive back, sir,' answered
Gordon, deeply affected by his nobleness
of mind, `I gave it to Cæsar to do with
what he pleased.'
`And Cæsar gib it to massa Robert,' answered
the smiling negro, as he pushed the
captain's hand back, and forcibly closed the
fingers over the gold. `It is not yours to
gib back to me, for Missy Jenny's share is in it.
`Then for Jenny's sake I will keep it,
since I must, my kindest friends,' answered
the captain, while the tears ran like great
rain-drops from his eyes. `But I hope that I
am not taking what you can't spare, my dear
sir,' he said, surveying Gordon closely, as if
to judge whether he were a man likely to be
able to give so much away; for he had no
doubt that honest Cæsar's account of his and
his daughter's condition had opened the seaman's
heart to give without consulting his
head.
`I have enough more, captain,' answered
Gordon, as he drew from a pocket a handful
of guineas.
`Your gold has been given where God's
blessing will go with it,' said the captain, with
emotion. `I do not hope to be able to return
it—'
`Do not speak of it. I am able to bestow
it, sir,' answered Gordon. `I sincerely sympathize
with you in your misfortunes, and
having heard all your history, I for one acquit
you of all negligence in losing your ship.'
`You do?' cried the captain, with brightening
looks.
`I do, sir; for when I came into port last
we made the light, and then afterwards lost
it in a fog precisely as you did; and our
ship came near being lost, for we stood on,
trusting to the bearings of the light where
we last, saw it, and all at once we heard a
trumpet hailing, as it seemed, from the clouds,
and looking up we saw the light over our fore-top-gallant
yard, looming faintly down upon
us through the fog, while from the light-house
tower the keeper, who saw us first, was shouting
the alarm. We just succeeded and no
more in putting the ship about and saving
her. Another moment and we should have
gone ashore,'
`I am glad to hear that!' exclaimed the
captain, half rising and slapping his hands
together. `That is enough to make me ten
years younger.'
`When I tell you that it was a frigate that
got into this scrape, and that the captain
was not censured, it will be more gratifying
to you. If she had been lost the captain
would not have been blamed.'
`I wish my owner knew this, if only to do
me justice.'
`It was in the papers. They have no
doubt seen the account.'
`I know nothing of it. I am too poor to
buy a paper. But if they had seen it they
should have let me known that they did not
blame me so much. But I suppose I am quite
forgotten. But this news makes me almost
as happy as the gold. And I can hardly
realize that this money is mine,' he said,
gazing upon it with eyes filled with the hopes
of better days.
`Yours and Jenny's,' answered Cæs ar.
`Who can separate my dear child from
me, Cæsar? She has shared my griefs, and
she must share my joys. Our hearts are one.
Hark, she is coming in at the door. I know
her step in a thousand. It always goes right
to my heart. She will be rejoiced to see
you, Cæsar, and then to know what a gift I
have for her,' and again the old captain's
eyes overrun with tears.
-- --
CHAPTER X.
[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]
`Gold that buys the traitor, begetteth gratitude.'
When the announcement of the presence
of the young girl at the door, Gordon bent
his eyes towards it with deep interest and the
livliest curiosity to see one whom he had not
only learn to form so high an opinion of, but
one by whose aid he hoped to carry out his
plans. He felt that a single glance would
enable him to decide whether she would be
fitted for an enterprize calling for so much
courage and tact.
The door opened and the maiden entered,
and seeing Cæsar, who had gone towards the
door to open it for her, she held out both
hands to him while a smile of pleasure and
kindness illummed her pale but beautiful
countenance:
`Why, Cæsar, I am so glad to see you!
If I had known you were here to talk with
my dear father, I should not have hurried
home so! But—'
Here her eyes fell on Gordon, whom she
did not discover before, as he sat a little back
behind the angle of the open door, and instantly
she ceased speaking, and surveyed
him as if surprised to see a stranger.
`It is a mess-mate of Cæsar, daughter,'
said the captain, `and a friend of yours and
mine! Shake hands with him and welcome
him. This is my daughter Jennette, my
man!'
Gordon was standing like a statue. Surprise,
delight, amazement had seized him at
the very first sight of her; for need the reader
be told that he had recognized in her the
beautiful unknown who had captured his
heart.' He rose and involuntarily advanced
a step towards her on making this delightful,
wonderful discovery, but instantly recollecting
himself drew back, and stood gazing upon
her with emotion, he could scarcely continue.
As soon as he saw her turn towards
him, he dropped his eyes, lest his intense
gaze should alarm her; for he knew that she
could have no suspicions that she had ever
before seen him under his humble and complete
disguise. At the words “this is my
daughter,” he bowed low and touched his
tarpaulin, hardly daring to look her in the
face lest he should betray himself. How his
heart bounded with joy. What an unlooked
for surprise. But sadness was mingled with
his joy, at last discovering who the modest
young stranger was, that he should find her a
sufferer from want. But this feeling was
quickly dissipated at the reflection that it was
in his power to make her happy. What
deep delight this thought gave birth to in his
heart.
`But at present she shall not know who
I am! I will also make certain of her
heart ere she knows that I am rich. She
has not penetrated my disguise, and I will
preserve it! How beautiful she is, and how
fondly she looks upon her father, like a mother's
glance bent on a suffering child! He did
well in saying she was an angel! Such heavenly
eyes! I knew not that she possessed
such charms! But these are forgotten in my
-- 044 --
[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]
estimation, while I reflect upon her filial virtues,
her noble character, her generous heart.
She is indeed a treasure! What is gold, or
family name which, I fear, are all my wants,
what are they weighed in the scales against
virtue and beauty like hers. I know I am
not worthy of her; yet I shall try to win her,
knowing that it shall be my life's sweet labor
to render her happy.'
Such were the thoughts that passed
through the mind of the young man, as he
stood watching her, as without noticing him
farther after curtseying to him, she placed a
small parcel upon the table and then removing
her straw hat and shawl, sat like a child
upon the box at her father's feet. The presence
of Gordon, whom she supposed some
humble shipmate of Cæsar's, did not embarrass
her; and Gordon had an opportunity of
observing her unnoticed by her.
`You are glad to see Cæsar, Jennette,'
said her father, `I know by your looks.'
`Yes, for Cæsar is such a warm friend to
you dear father.'
`Not more so, Missy Jenny dan my good
shipmate here,' answered Cæsar looking towards
Gordon. She glanced a second time
at the large-bearded sailor, as he to her appeared
to be, with the patch upon his eye,
and looked as if she was wondering how he
should be such a friend and be wholly unknown
to her.
`I am glad he is a friend, Cæsar, for we
have few enough.'
`You will see what a large heart he has,
Jennette,' said the captain, `Cæsar, here,
took it into his head to tell his shipmate our
story, and so the noble fellow opens his purse
and heart at the same time, and gives Cæsar
fifty dollars in gold as a present to you
and I! See, here it is! For you must see
this gold to believe there is so much in the
world, poor child!' As the captain spoke he
opened his hand and displayed the guineas
with which it was filled.
`Given to you, my dear father?' she
cried, looking from the gold to the sailor,
whose whole wardrobe was not worth half
a guinea. `Is there not some mistake?'
`Not a bit, Missy Jenny,' said Cæsar, with
shining eyes, `he gib it free as water, and
he hab more! So you mustn't say one
word, but take it.'
`But from a stranger!' she said shrinking
like a delicate mind from obligations so vast
to one unknown.
`You can't refuse it, missy, for it is as
much your fader's as your own,' said Cæsar,
`it will make him so much more comfortable.
You can hab coffee and tea, and
meat, and perhaps a ride in a hack once
in a while, would do de old cap'n berry
great deal ob good.'
`Yes, it will be indeed a blessing,' she
said, half aloud. `But I can hardly realize
it! Will you tell me, sir,' she said,' `why
you have done this?' she asked, looking
Gordon in the face with an angelic frankness.
`It is not usual for men to give so
much away without a motive?'
Gordon was struck with her wisdom
and good sense, and more than ever
loved her. He feared to reply lest his
voice should betray him, as he saw that
she did not at all recognized his features
or person. But disguising his tone he answered,
as she seemed to expect a response:
`I gave it that I might contribute what I
had no use for, to the nncessities of virtue
and filial piety. I heard your father was poor
and sick, and that his child supported him by
daily and nightly toil. Could I then be a
sailor, whose generosity is proverbial, not to
seek to relieve an old infirm captain, and
make his noble child's toil lighter.'
`You are a noble fellow, and a true sailor,
' said the captain with grateful emotion.
`And accept my thanks and my father's,
sir,' said Jennette. `You have done us
more service with the bestowing of this gold,
than you suppose; for, my dear father, as I
came down the wharf I met Mr. Grundy, the
owner of these old houses, and he told me to
tell you, that you must move out to-morrow,
-- 045 --
[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]
for the buildings were to be taken down at
once! My heart was heavy enough when I
came in thinking where we could go, knowing
that nobody would rent us a room unless we
paid for it in advance.'
`There, sir,' cried the old captain, `you
see what a good angel you are to us. But
for this, I have no doubt I should be to-morrow
where I have so long feared, and that is in
the alms-house.'
`Never, dear father, so long as I had fingers
to work for you!' cried Jennette, with an
earnestness, that deeply touched Gordon's
heart. How he rejoiced to know that he
had had it in his power to avert the evil
threatened, and to make the sweet girl happy.
But he could not forget his errand
there. He did not forget his duty to Hugh
Ogilvie. But should he think of Jennette,
as party to the escape? Could he expose
her to such perils, and perhaps to the impudent
familiarity of the keeper's admiration? At
first the idea jarred upon his feelings. Since
the young girl he had sought out, proved to
be his lovely unknown, he hesitated. But
the more he reflected upon it, the more he
was satisfied of her fitness.
`I would have consented to let my sister
Bella take this part, would she do it,' he said
to himself, `why should I refuse to ask Jennette,
though I do love her! I will no longer
hesitate! Perhaps, for my sake, when I
make known myself to her, she may consent.
But first I will secure the father, whom I now
clearly recognize, and whom I know will,
when he knows who I am, do any thing for
me; and Cæsar I am persuaded is the very
negro I saved from the shark in Havana!
Thus I have two links to bind the father and
negro to me. The daughter I trust will be
won by affection. But this I have to test.
`You have not told me your generous
shipmate's name, Cæsar'? said the captain.
`Jack, massa cap'n.'
`You have seen me, before, Captain Alison,
' said Gordon.'
`Where, my man?'
`At Havana! Do you remember being
arrested by the guard at the theatre, for taking
the part of a young American officer
who having been insulted by a Spanish Don,
had struck him with the hilt of his sword!'
`Yes, I recollect it well. The young officer
had taken a seat just before me, when
the Spaniard came in and told him to move
aside, that he was a colonel and of higher
rank than a middy. The officer answered
that an American middy out-ranked any
Spanish colonel of them all; and as he had
paid for his seat he would keep it. The
Spaniard then laid his hand upon the young
man's shoulder when he raised his sword and
struck him in the face.'
`And the guard then fell upon him when
you, Captain Alison, bravely took his part
and aided him in fighting his way out of the
theatre.'
`Yes, and he fought well too. But in that
tussle, I was caught and pinioned and dragged
off to prison. And I thought it was all
up with me then; but my brave young friend
hadn't forgotten me. He went down to the
quay, mustered a dozen American boats'
crew waiting for their captains to go off to
their vessels, and led them full sixty men in
all, each armed with an oar, right through
the town and reached the caliboose just as
the soldiers brought me and another captain
up to lock us in. The young officer gave the
word charge, and the lads came on like a
wave and went right over the soldiers tramping
them down; and before I knew it I was
free and being hurried off to the harbor. We
reached the quay in safety and put off all the
boats in a fleet. In the scampado from the
shore I got separated from the young officer,
but reached my ship in safety. I have not
seen him from that day to this, and I don't
know of any man I would like to see better;
for he took my heart.'
`What is his name?' asked Gordon, not a
little gratified to find that his part in the affair
had not been forgotten.
`Lieutenant Hays, or Hay!' answered
-- 046 --
[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]
Captain Alison. And the other day when
Jennette told me how a young naval officer
on the bridge had protected her from insult,
and described him to me, I half believe it
might have been he; for it answered his personal
appearance exactly! I wish it had
been, for I would rather she would be indebted
to him for a favor of that kind than
any other officer; for you know these gallants
think if they serve a poor girl they can
be bold and presuming. But Lieutenant
Hay, as every body said is the soul of honor.
If there is any man I would have freely exposed
my poverty to and asked aid, it is he.
But my man, how did you know of these
transactions in Havana? Were you there at
the time?'
`I was one of the party who rescued you,
Captain Alison.'
`Were you! Then give me your hand,
and let me thank you. Better late than never!
You did me good service, you and
yours. I would,' he added warmly, as he
held firmly Gordon's offered hand in his,
`that this were your brave leader's, as well
as yours! I would give much to see him
and be able to thank him as I am thanking
you, my brave lad.'
`You can see him, sir, for I know that he
is in port,' said Gordon, fixing his eyes upon
the lovely countenance of Jennette, which he
had joyfully seen deepen its colors, as her
father alluded to the officer on the bridge and
her description of him. As he now spoke
saying that he was in town, he saw the rich
blood mount to her face, and her eyes beam
with pleasure. `Why should this be so?'
he asked himself; `why this pleased agitation
unless she is hoping, half-believing that
the officer she has met and and the one her
father speaks so highly of are one and the
same.'
`In town!' cried the captain, with animation.
`When did you see him?'
`Yesterday, sir.'
`I should be happy now to see him once
more.'
`I will let him know it, sir.'
`No, no, father!' quickly cried Jennette;
and then she dropped her eyes with confusion.
`You need not see him, child, if you don't
like to have a young officer witness our poverty.
'
`Oh—that—that is not it, sir,—but—'
`Well, you don't think I will ask aid of
him. I am too proud for that! And has not
this generous sailor rendered us above it! If
you see him, my man, just hint to him I am
in Boston! He can then do as he pleases.'
`I will, sir,' answered Gordon, with joy.
`The memory of favors lives longer far,
Than the smart of injuries.'
The young naval officer's heart throbbed
with hope and joy. He felt that he would
have a warm advocate in the father, not only
for engaging the present aid of Jennette in
their plan, but in a nearer and dearer object—
his own happiness. That she still remembered
teaderly her interviews with him, he
was satisfied from her conscious looks when
her father alluded to the affair upon the
bridge.
`How little she suspects who is present
here in the same room with her,' he said, as
he gazed with deep admiration upon her intelligently
beautiful face. `Alas! perhaps if
she knew she would fear and fly from me.—
I am safest undiscovered. Cæsar!'
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[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]
`Wat, massa—I means what, ship-mate!'
responded Cæsar, correcting himself with a
look of consternation that did not escape the
observation of the captain.
`Do you recollect being in Havana once,
on board the sloop-of-war Saratoga?'
`Bress you, yiss! How you know dat?'
demanded the astonished negro.
`Because, I saw you there. Do you recollect
when you were ascending the side-ladder
with a basket of lemons in your hand,
you lost your footing, and you and lemons
went into the water, the tide running out at
three knot?'
`Sure 'nuff! How you know dat? It am
six year ago. Was you dere?' asked Cæsar,
staring at Gordon with surprise.
`Yes, and saw how you came near being
drowned, for you couldn't swim, and, what with
throwing your arms into the air, and your
fear, you all but lost the number of your mess.'
`Dat true 'nuff, massa! I means mess-mate.
And if one midshipman hadn't jump
ober de starn, neber mindin' his new blue
coat and buttons, Cæsar would ha' drowned
forebber. But, Missy Jenney, jist as I was
disappearin' for de last time, I see him in de
air comin' down head fust, and struck in de
water close by me. He went under and come
up feet down, and cotcht me by de chin, and
tellin me keep quiet, held me up till boat
come and take me out; and he wouldn't let
'em take him out till dey had pulled me in all
safe. I nebber forget him. Was you dere,
ship-mate?'
`Yes. Did you ever learn his name?'—
asked Gordon.
`I dismembers as he belonged to anodder
ship, and was ony visitin' ours. But I sort
o' tinks it somethin' like Fodder!'
`Hay, you mean,' answered Gordon, laughing,
in which he was joined by Jennette and
the captain.
`Dat it massa, I berry sure.'
`And was it young Hay, the same officer
I like so much?' asked captain Alison, with
surprise.
`Yes, sir.'
`There's the very man, then, just as I
knew him,—always bold and quick to aid!
When was this?'
`At the same time his ship lay at Havana,
when you were there, captain.'
`Well, Cæsar, we both owe him one,' said
the captain; and stave my timbers, Jennette,
if I do not now begin to believe more strongly
than ever that it was nobody else but this
brave young officer who saved you from being
insulted by those ruffians, especially as I
know he is here. It is just like him, you
see. It would be surprising, after all, if all
three of us were bound to him by gratitude.
If it should turn out to be he, Jennette, you
would not object to seeing him?'
`Indeed, father, I should rather not. He
has no doubt forgotten the service he did me,
and the person whom he befriended,' she answered,
blushing—and, thought Gordon,
looking as if it made her unhappy to allude
to one whom she had made an effort to banish
from her heart. He could hardly restrain
the impulse to tell her at once that she was
not forgotten, but, on the contrary, remembered
and loved. But he feared that a premature
disclosure might destroy not only his
hopes with reference to Ogilvie's interests,
but his own dearer ones.
`I should be berry grad to see de ossifer
and tell him how mush Cæsar tank him,'
said the black. `When you go to tell him
de captain is here, ship-mate, Cæsar be too
mush happy to go wid you.'
`You shall see him, Cæsar,' answered
Gordon, `but I fear that when you hear
he is in need of the services of such
friends as you are, you may forget him.'
`I would do anything to serve the noble
young man,' cried the captain, warmly.
`I'll do ebbery ting and any ting,' exclaimed
Cæsar.
`You do us wrong, sir,' said Jennette, `in
supposing we would hesitate to serve one who
has done us such service—that is, my father
and Cæsar, for I do not know that (here she
-- 048 --
[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]
looked sweetly confused) I owe to him personally
the gratitude due to the officer who
was so kind as to do me the service to which
my father has alluded. But I trust that he is
in no difficulty in which it would be necessary
for him to call for the aid of persons situated
as we are?'
`You shall learn his position,' answered
Gordon; `but I don't know that I ought to
make it known, as it is a secret involving the
life and safety of others.'
`By all means let us hear it, if we can do
him a service!' cried the captain.
`Yes, massa—I mean ship-mate,' said the
unlucky and blundering Cæsar.
The captain, who was not by any means
deficient in discrimination, had before noticed
Cæsar's often-corrected phraseology; and, as
he could not but discover that the language
of the supposed ship-mate was above his condition,
he now looked steadily at him, as if
he had begun to suspect, taking the large
amount of gold he had given, and still had in
his possession, that he was more than he
seemed. The suspicions of Jennette were,
however, awakened even before her father's,
for the whiteness of his hand betrayed him:
and all at once he found them both regarding
him with close and inquiring looks. So soon
as he saw this, he said—
`Captain, if you and Cæsar will allow me
to speak with you alone, I shall be able to
make you acquainted with the facts touching
Lieutenant Hay.'
`I will leave you then, father,' said Jennettee,
rising and taking her work with her,
for she had already begun to sew upon a collar,
giving, unconsciously, Gordon a secret
opportunity of watching, though with sorrow
that they should have so long been condemned
to toil, the rapid and graceful motions of
her fair fingers.
As she spoke she left the room, and made
her way up the dilapidated stairs to a deserted
corner room of the old mansion, where,
upon an old bench drawn to the window, she
seated herself; but, instead of sewing, she
gazed upon the water, and thought within
herself whether the brave officer who had rescued
her father and saved the life of Cæsar,
were, indeed, the same whom she had thrice
met. The thought that it might be made
her young heart bound with hope and joy—
but only the next moment to sink again, as
she thought of her lowly condition, and his
high position in society.
`Little will it effect me,' she sighed, `whether
he be proved so or not. I have done
wrong to think of him so much, after having
told him not to think of me. Oh! what joy
filled my heart when I knew that he loved
me—for I cannot now doubt, though at the
moment I was alarmed and feared him, though
I feared most for myself. If I had not fled
from him out of the shop as I did, my poor
heart would have betrayed its secret. If I
had let him see how I loved him I should
have been humbled in my own eyes, and perhaps
in his. It was best as it was—best that
he should think I thought coldly of him.—
But in vain I try to forget him! His looks
of tender and respectful admiration—his
kindness of tone and manner! Ah, me! I
shall never cease to love him—never can I
forget him! I wonder who this sailor is, who
seems not to be what he seems?—who gives
my father gold—who knew both him and
Cæsar before, and of their escapes—and yet,
whom neither seem to know? And how often
Cæsar addressed as master, as if he were
not a ship-mate in truth, but only in guise.
There is a mystery about that man, with his
patched eye and his embarrassed manner.
He speaks thick, like one who is watched,
and fears to be heard! I wonder what he
can be about to reveal, touching this Lieutenant
Hay, who, he says, is in some trouble?
If he is, for my father's sake I would be
ready to serve him and aid him. I pray that
it will not prove to be he who is in trouble,'
she added with deep emotion. `How I wish
yet fear I shall meet him again, every time I
go out! I did violence to my own heart
when I told him no more to think upon me.
Yet, what could a friendless and poor girl
-- 049 --
[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]
like me do? Maidenly dignity and propriety
demanded the sacrifice. But I will not
think of him.'
With this resolution she addressed herself
to her toil with the needle; but ere she had
taken seven stitches, she had paused in her
task unconsciously, and her mind was again
absent upon the interdicted thoughts. Tears,
too, came into her eyes, and her bosom heaved
as if her heart were breaking. Poor Jennettee!
Thou art thinking it is a hard lot
to be poor, so that thou canst not hope to be
loved and honored where thou lovest so well!
We will leave the lovely sewing-girl to her
sweetly sad meditations, and return to the
apartment where we left Gordon.
`Now, Captain Alison, that we are alone,'
said Gordon, after the last faint footstep of the
retiring Jennette had fallen on his listening
ear, `I will put an end to this seeming. I
am not a sailor, though I trust I am a seaman,
captain. I have come hither in this
disguise, not knowing I should find friends.
But I know that Lieutenant Hays can freely
trust himself in the presence of Captain Alison
and Cæsar.'
As he spoke, he removed the patch from
his eye, and showed it whole, as the other.—
He then removed his huge whiskers, and laid
them down, the captain surveying the proceedings
with astonishment. But Cæsar was,
so far, in the secret. Then taking off his
loose sailor's jacket and flowing duck over-alls,
he stood before them a gallant, fine-looking
naval officer!
`Lieutenant Hays! I need not be told who
you are now!' cried the captain. `I am
overjoyed! And all the while you have been
disguised, and I never suspected you; though
I questioned very much whether you were a
common sailor. To your generosity, then, I
owe this gift of gold?'
`I did not know to whom I was giving it,
captain. Cæsar told me of a captain who was
hard used by the world, I gave it to him for you,
little knowing who would be the recipient.'
`Bress my soul, massa!' cried Cæsar, who
at length found his tongue, and who was
staring at the brilliant uniform of the officer,
with his eyes wide open with surprise. `So
you no mate ob ship, after all? I nebber
guess you ossifer in de naby. I berry glad
see you, and I takes dis opportunity to tank
you for divin' ater me! I knows your face
now—you jist as young as ebber. Please,
massa Lieutenant, let poor Cæsar shake you
hand for savin' his life'
`Me too, lieutenant,' cried Captain Alison.
And for a moment Gordon stood with a
hand grasped by each of his grateful friends,
who looked overcome with joy and gratitude.
`Then all this while I have been talking to
Lieutenant Hays,' said the captain, smiling
through his tears. `Well, sir, you know
what we think of you. This is the happiest
day of my life! Now, sir, answer me one
question—did you rescue a young girl who
was insulted on the Charlestown bridge, three
weeks ago?
`I did—and, to my joyful surprise, I found
this morning that that lovely person was your
daughter,' said Gordon, with feeling
`Then give me one more grasp of your
hand, my noble friend. This is wonderful,
indeed, that we are all indebted to you—two
of us for our liberty and life, and my child for
her safety. God bless you, Lieutenant Hays!
And this gold too! Well, I am overloaded
with obligations and debts to you! Heaven
must repay you—I cannot!'
`Do not speak of the small sum of gold.—
It was fairly Cæsar's, but I knew he would
give it to you, and therefore placed it in his
hands, as I did; but it was ostensibly to pay
him for services to be rendered to me.—
Thank Cæsar, for it is his gift.'
`Then God bless Cæsar also.'
`Thankee, good massa Robert!'
`Now, Cæsar, will you tell me how you
come to bring the Lieutenant here, when it
seems he did not come to see me, not knowing
who lived here?'
`I will tell you, captain. I feel, as I said
a little while ago, that I can safely trust my
-- 050 --
[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]
life in your hands, and also the lives of those
dear to me.'
`That you can, sir,' answered the captain.
`Now I knows who you is, massa, you can
do any ting wid Cæsar—drown him agen, if
you wishes to.'
`I don't want to drown you, Cæsar, but I
wish to have you faithful to me.'
`Dat I'll be, massa. And I nebber wants
no money.'
`I will then say plainly, as to two tried
friends, how I want you to aid me, captain;
for Cæsar already knows his duty. You have
heard of the arrest and conviction, as well as
sentence of Colonel Ogilvie?'
`Yes, I heard that he was sentenced to be
hanged, and I am sorry for him. He was a
noble gentleman, and once I knew him well,
for he came passenger from Havana with me,
some years ago.'
`Better still. Then you liked him?'
`Yes, I never saw a more gentlemanly and
courteous man; and though we were but
fourteen days on the passage, I never have
ceased to remember him with respect. He
made me a present of a silver mounted compass
when he left the vessel here. When I
heard that he had been convicted of robbing
the mail and shooting the driver, I was amazed,
and could hardly believe it; but a chair-maker
who lived next door to me, loaned me
the paper containing the trial, and so I had
not a doubt! But it has always been a surprise
to me. I never could understand it.—
But however it was, I am sorry for him, from
the bottom of my heart, poor gentleman!'
`There may be crime upon the hand,
And yet the heart be innocent and free.'
Gordon was overjoyed at this expression
of sympathy in the captain, and felt that he
could make a confidant of him without reserve.
He therefore said, after looking
cautiously at the door to see that it was closed,
and at the windows to ascertain that there
were no eaves-droppers.
`Colonel Ogilvie deserves your sympathy,
Captain Alison. He is an innocent man in
heart, though he stands convicted of a great
crime. The particulars are these; for as I
need your services, or rather those of one
whom you can influence, I will detail the
events to you without concealment.
`Colonel Ogilvie was, as you are aware,
formerly a merchant of great wealth, and
retired from business a few years ago highly
respected by a large circle of friends. He
was appointed guardian to an estate to which
his nephew, one of the finest young men in
the country, now twenty years of age, is
heir. He had a visit from a lawyer, who
was as wicked as he was shrewd, who made
known to him the existence of certain papers
which would go to prove the young man illegitimate,
and bring dishonor upon his own
sister. The lawyer promised to surrender
the papers for half the young man's fortune.
`This, Colonel Ogilvie indignantly refused
and indeed defied the lawyer to do his worst,
when he threatened to institute a suit and so
make the matter public.
`But on reflection, Colonel Ogilvie, who
felt that publicity was half as bad as guilt,
whether proved or disproved, and conscious
that ill name would always attach to the
young man, his nephew, as well as follow his
sister's memory, he waited on the lawyer,
and though conscious that the papers made
up of letters and confessions &c., were all
ingenious fabrications, he proposed to give
-- 051 --
[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]
the villain ten thousand dollars to drop the
affair, saying to him,
“`I know it is money you want, and
money I offer you; only let this young gentleman
retain his honorable name unsuspected
and unspotted. Take the money I offer
you, and let him escape this vile conspiracy
against his property.”
`But the lawyer, who, instigated by the
devil, had set this base attempt on foot in
order that he might either extort money
from Colonel Ogilvie, or from the young
man, said that he had increased his price,
and that unless he had two thirds of the
estate of his ward, he should bring suit in
behalf of the real heirs, to whom he had
only to hint the matter, to be employed by
them to prosecute; the collateral heirs being
a nephew and niece of Colonel Ogilvie's
sister's husband, and cousins of young Heber
Deforrest, the real heir.
“`Unless you make over to me a title
to this amount of property,” said the lawyer
with a smile of Satanic power, “I shall
make an appeal to the young man's pride.
He has three hundred thousand, and he
would, I doubt not, rather have one hundred
thousand and a fair name, than three
hundred with a bastard's honors, and likely
to lose even that.”
`Of course, Colonel Ogilvie left him, and
told him to do his worst. Still he feared. He
knew this lawyer had been the attorney of
one of the supposed guilty parties, and might
be supposed to know and have access to the
facts which he assumed so boldly, though
Colonel Ogilvie had not the least doubt that
they were audacious forgeries.'
`Really, this is a very singular case, lieutenant,
' said the captain, who listened deeply
interested.
`A very extraordinary one. Colonel Ogilvie
had every reason to fear. Here was this
old shrewd lawyer coming forward a few
weeks after his brother-in-law's death, with
a package of letters and other papers, and
declares them to be an original private cor
respondence between the widow of the deceased,
twenty years before, and a certain eminent
statesman, celebrated for his gallantries.
These letters, the lawyer asserted,
embraced a correspondence of two years
standing, between the then young wife and
the statesman, in which her guilt was clearly
made out so that any jury on earth would
declare the infant boy she gave birth to
during the pendency of this correspondence,
illegitimate. The lawyer said he had been
appointed executor by this statesman, who
had died the year before, and by this means
this guilty correspondence carefully filed
away with copies of his own letters, fell into
his hands. Passages of some of the letters
he suffered Colonel Ogilvie to look at, though
he cautiously kept him from getting possession
of them. And with these plausible
statements, backed by the letters, he comes
to Colonel Ogilvie, and threatens to make
the matter public by instituting a suit, unless
his silence is purchased, threatning if he
failed with the guardian, he would awaken
the fears of the honorable young man himself.'
`Was ever such villany!' cried Captain
Alison, with indignant horror; `for there
can be no doubt of the forgery of the letters.
What was this lawyers's name?'
`Parchnip.'
`I knew him well by reputation, as a great
rogue. I am now convinced that he forged
papers. I hope the colonel did not give him
the title deeds of any part of the young man's
estate, in order to save his good name, and
the rest of his property.'
`He could not. Still he felt that the honor
of his ward, who was then at the University
of New Haven, was at stake, and his peace
of mind also if the old villain should apply
to him. So he hardly knew what to do. He
did not wish to consult with any one, for he
knew how dangerous it was to speak to a
second ear such a suspicion; for as soon as
he had parted with the secret, it was no
longer his own. As for Parchnip, he knew
-- 052 --
[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]
he would keep quiet while it was for his interest
to do so.
`Colonel Ogilvie walked his room all
night undecided what to do. He knew
the lawyer well enough to know he would
do as he said. He knew that, though the
papers should be proved false, half the world
who heard the accusation, would not heed
the disproof, and his nephew and sister, with
half the world would be dishonored. He was
in distress—almost mad with his agitation of
mind. Suddenly he sat down and wrote for
Parchnip to come and see him, and bring
his papers. He resolved in his heart to get
possession of them or of the man's life.'
`He did right—he did right!' cried the
captain.
`Dat he did,' exclaimed Cæsar, who had
listened with no less interest than the captain
to Gordon's recital, `I hope he kill him, and
hab de papers too.'
`Parchnip came in high glee, confident of
success. As soon as he entered, Colonel
Ogilvie locked the door unseen by him.
“`I thought you would think better of it,
colonel,” said the lawyer, rubbing his hands
with great satisfaction. “Never too late to
repent.”
“`Have you the papers with you, sir?”
demanded the colonel in a quiet tone under
which he concealed his agitation.
“`Yes—never go without them. Pocket
safe—strong box sometimes broke open”'
answered Parchnip.
“`Let me examine them,” said the colonel.
`The lawyer drew from his pocket a large
packet wrapped in leather, which he deliberately
untied, and then was in the act of
drawing forth one paper at a time, when the
colonel made a grasp at it. But the wily
lawyer, unfortunately was too quick for him,
and held fast to it. For a few moments there
was a mortal struggle, but the lawyer released
himself, and unlocking the door, sprang
out and escaped.'
`What a pity,' exclaimed Capain Alison,
warmly.
`The same day, the colonel received the
following note:
“`Sir:—As you did not succeed in your
plan to possess yourself of these important
papers, I shall not again place them or myself,
in your power. I shall make an appeal to
the heir in person, where I shall no doubt be
more successful. I leave to-night in the
stage, and that you may not indulge any hope
of waylaying me, to rob me, I inform you in
order to show that you need not cherish the
hope for a moment of possessing them, that
they will go in the U. S. mail bags, directed
to me at New Haven; so you see I shall have
them when I reach there, without any risk
of losing them on the way, through any desperate
violence you and your hirelings might
be tempted to use towards me if you thought
they were upon my person.
Parchnip.”
`Such was the substance of the note which
Colonel Ogilvie received You may judge
what his feelings were. He saw misery and
disgrace about to befall the young man Heber
Deforrest, whom he greatly loved. He knew
Heber's pride of character, his high sense of
honor, and his profound sensitiveness He
saw that he would either at once yield his
fortune, if it were all demanded by the lawyer,
to save his honor and pure name, or else,
overcome with shame at the knowledge of
his supposed degraded birth, put a period to
his existence. He was overwhelmed at the
consequences. He resolved that he would
save his nephew at all risks.
“`It is now two hours to the time of the
starting of the stage,” he said to himself.
“It will pass after night a deep ravine,
where the horses will go slow. There I will
attack it, and possess myself of the parcel at
all risks. I will mask myself, and no one
will know who has done the act.”
`With this resolution he prepared himself
to carry it through. His country residence
was three miles from town. The stage road
-- 053 --
[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]
skirted it. He knew well the glen through
which it would pass. Providing himself
with a mask and a pair of pistols, he left
town at twilight, and galloped forward to the
ravine. Here he posted himself, and waited
for the mail. He had previously looked at
the books at the stage house and seen that
only two passengers were entered, Parchnip
and another person unknown. At length,
about an hour after he had taken up his position
on the side-hill ascent from the glen,
he heard the wheels of the coach, and soon
afterwards saw the lamps gleaming along the
road through the trees. It came down into
the ravine at a fast trot, and the driver then
giving the horses the reins, let them walk
up the hill-side midway which Colonel Ogilvie
stood. He had placed a barrier of rails
across the road, which stopped the leaders,
when he sprang out into the road, and leveling
a pistol at the driver bade him throw him
the mail. Instead of doing so, the man aimed
a blow at the pistol barrel with the butt
of his whip, when the weapon went off and
the ball penetrated his side. He fell back
upon his seat with a mingled groan and
curse. Colonel Ogilvie without looking to
see the effect of the shot, jumped upon the
fore wheel, and grasping the mail-bag which
was beneath the driver's feet dragged it to
the ground, and hastened aside into the
hedge. Here he cut it open, and poured the
contents upon the ground. Then by the
light of a dark lantern, which he brought
with him for the purpose, he examined the
packages, and when his eye fell on one in
scribed to T. Parchnip, he uttered an exclamation
of joy. Seizing it, he placed it in
his coat pocket, and buttoning it safely up
he felt he had been well recompensed for the
risk he had run. He then replaced all the
letters and parcels, and carried the mail back
and placed it on the foot-board again. The
driver sat there groaning and saying he was
a dead man. Colonel Ogilvie's humanity
overcame his fears, and he resolved to try
and save the poor man's life. He removed
the rails from the road, and commanding
the trembling passengers within to remain
quiet, getting upon the box, he held the driver
on his seat with one hand, while he drove
with the other to the first house. Here he
called to the owner and giving the wounded
man in his charge, hastened back unseen in
the darkness to where he had tied his horse,
which he found, and remounted.
`In another hour, having stopped once to
despatch a surgeon to the coachman's aid,
he was in his own home in town. Locking
the door, he examined the package thoroughly.
He was amazed at the system of the
forgery. He saw that it would have been
impossible to have defeated such evidence,
bearing upon its face such seeming truthfulness:
and he acquitted himself of wrong in
what he had done to get them into his possession,
though he bitterly grieved for the
poor man, who had been wounded, and whom
he had only intended to intimidate.'
`It was a great misfortune. Did not the
lawyer make any resistance?' asked Captain
Alison.
`None, nor the other passenger, who was
a fat country gentleman. Both were too
thoroughly frightened even to put their heads
out of a window for fear of a ball. Of course
this stopping of the mail, connected as it
was with bloodshed, produced an immense
sensation.
`When Parchnip found that his parcel was
the only one missing, he guessed who had
done the deed and openly and so boldly accused
Colonel Ogilvie, saying that he saw
his face, and recognized his voice, that with
great reluctance the justice issued an order
for his private arrest and examination; for
his respectability and wealth seemed to render
the idea of his robbing the mail absurd.
Parchuip was present as accuser, and had
his rooms searched. But the colonel had
effectually destroyed the papers he had recovered.
He was about to be acquitted, as
nothing could be proven against him, when
a stain of blood was seen upon the under
-- 054 --
[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]
part of his shirt wristband. Upon being
questioned about it he could not reply, but
turned pale, and was so agitated that they
began to believe him guilty.
`At this crisis, an officer who had been
searching about, brought his hat in from the
entry in which he had found a mask, which
he exhibited, stained in two places with finger
prints of blood where the colonel had adjusted
it. This was testimony strong enough
to call for his committal, and he was conveyed
to prison.'
`Poor man,' sighed the captain.
`The result you know. He was tried,
convicted of the crime of robbing the mail
and killing the driver, and sentenced to die.
His execution is set for the day after to-morrow,
' added Gordon with emotion, as he concluded
his recital.
`There is no severing two hearts true.
The invalid captain and the negro Cæsar
had both listened to the narrative of Colonel
Ogilvie's misfortunes and crime with the
deepest attention. The old seaman's eyes
often sparkled with indignation, often melted
with sympathy as Gordon proceeded with the
story. When he had concluded, he said in
an emphatic manner:
`He ought not to be hung. The world
would acquit him if it knew the particulars.
Why don't his friends apply to the governor
for his pardon?'
`I have done it, Capt. Alison. The govorner
says that he pities him, but cannot extend
to him clemency. He says that the
world will say it is because he is rich and of
respectable standing. He said the mob
would destroy the prison to get at him, if
they thought we would be pardoned.'
`It is a pity, a great pity,' said the captain,
sadly. `I wish from my heart, sir, that
he could escape in some way.'
`That wish, captain, is but the echo of
mine and of his son's, who—
`Has he a son?'
`An officer in the navy. He was absent
at the time of his father's arrest and trial.
He is now in the city. He is my near and
dear friend. My heart bleeds for him. He
has resolved to rescue his father if it is in
the power of mortal man to do it.'
`I am glad to hear that. This is good news.
But what can he do? What plan has he
formed?'
`May I safely trust you, Capt. Alison?'
`Heart and hand; and if I can in any
way aid you I will do it.'
`You can, at least with your influence.
Colonel Ogilvie's son and myself are combined
together in the plan of achieving his
escape. It was decided between us that if
the governor refused to pardon him we would
endeavor to effect his escape. For this purpose,
Hugh, his son, provided at Marblehead,
three weeks ago, a swift sailing shallop,
which he has fitted up comfortably within,
though on the outside it still resembles a
fisher's vessel. This he has been getting
ready to avail himself of should I fail in my
appeal to the governor. Last night, previous
being informed of my failure, he arrived
here, and is now on board his shallop concealed
under the island a mile and a half
down the harbor; while I am here on shore
to perfect a plan I have projected for rescuing
the colonel from the dreadful fate that awaits
him, and placing him in safety on board the
shallop.'
`How can I serve you or his son?' asked the
captain, earnestly. `You see what I am; a
poor cripple, and have no possessions but this
gold, your blessed gift, and my dear daughter.'
-- 055 --
[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]
`You can serve me, if you will influence
your daughter.'
`In what way?' asked the captain, quickly,
while an expression of mingled joy and
hope lighted up his features.
`In two ways,' answered Gordon, with a
smile and a look of embarassment. One
way in inducing her to enter into our plans,
another way in inducing her to accept of my
hand as she already has my heart.'
`Is it possible! are you not jesting—playing
with an old man's vanity? Lieutenant
Hays, I owe you my life, my daughter has been
protected by you in danger, and only gratitude
burns in my heart towards you. Do not trifle
with my feelings, sir, and cause me to fear
and despise you. I am a poor man, and my
child is humble like her father. She is, nevertheless,
too pure to be spoken lightly of.'
`Captain Alison, you misunderstand me
and do me injustice. What I said I mean.
My thoughts of your lovely child are most
honorable. I have seen enough of her character
to love her. As I have told you she
already has my heart, and if you will consent
that I shall address her you will render me
the happiest of men.'
`Can this be true? Do I hear aright?
My poor child honorably loved by one so rich
and eminent, and one I know to be brave
and worthy God be thanked. But I seem
to be in a dream.' And the old captain's
eyes filled with tears.
`It is no dream, sir. It is a reality.'
`But where have you spoken with her
and seen her to know and love her? for whoever
does know her must love her.'
`You shall hear, captain, and I will show
you that I have seen and known enough of
the beauty of her character, and goodness of
heart to admire her above all other women.'
Gordon then proceeded to inform the captain
the circumstances as already known to
the reader, under which he first met Jennette
when she so benevolently assisted the
poor Italian showman; and he also narrated
what passed at their two subsequent meetings,
and especially commented upon her desire for
him never to think of her more.
The happy captain listened with deep surprise
and emotion at the recital. When
Gordon had ended with, `so you see, my dear
sir, that I shall have to ask your influence
to aid me in my suit, since she so fears me,'
he cried, with tearful cheeks, as he grasped
the hand of Gordon:
`No, no, sir, you need none of mine. She
loves you as heartily as you love her.'
`How do you know this?' asked Gordon,
with animation.
`By her manner—her words—her tears and
sighs, by all of which she has for some time
shown me that she had a secret at heart. But
when I have asked her what was the matter
she has turned it off and left me in the dark.
This is it. Besure she loves you, my noble
lieutenant, and that you will have no need of
any of my interference. You have made me
the happiest of men. I could dance for joy
if it were not for my lame leg. Of all men
in the world to love my daughter and ask her
in marriage the man I most loved and esteemed.
Let me call her and tell her her
happiness.'
`No, not by any means, sir,' answered
Gordon, quickly. `She may take a different
view of it from any that you do. I have not
forgotten how firmly she bade me think of
her no more,'
`That was because she could not believe
you were sincere and honorable. Knowing
her own humbleness of station.'
`It may have been so, though I fear she
saw something in me repulsive.'
`Not Jennette. If she doesn't confess she
loves you I'll give my head for a main-truck.
I'll call to her and ask her at once.'
`Not for the world, captain. If I should
need your influence can I depend upon it.'
`How can I say anything but yes, lieutenant.
'
`And if I should wish her aid in the enterprise
before us?'
-- 056 --
[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]
`Do you mean the plan for rescuing Colonel
Ogilvie?'
`Not quite so loud, captain. Yes, I may
need her aid.'
`In any way that she can serve you I consent
if Jennette does. But you must not
place the dear girl in any danger, lieutenant.'
`No, sir. She is dearer to me than my
own life. But I may wish her to take a part
that I would give my sister if I dared trust
her, but I dare not, or rather do not wish to;
as she and Colonel Ogilvie's son were lovers
prior to the colonel's unfortunate affair; and
on that account she has refused to see him.
She is a good hearted girl, but proud and
sensitive; and though I have no doubt that
she still secretly loves him, she will not betray
it. She feels that she could never wed the
son of a man condemned to the gallows, even
though he be innocent of the crime. But
Colonel Ogilvie actually did commit the act
with which he was charged, and for which he
was sentenced, though he intended no mere
mail robbery.'
`The law judges the fact, not the intention,'
said the captain. It was an unfortunate affair.
Your sister herself cannot be blamed.'
`I do not censure her, much as I love young
Ogilvie. But I do not wish to entrust to
her a secret that she might not wish to have
anything to do with.'
`It would not be judicious. But how
could she or my Jennette serve you?' asked
Captain Alison.
`In this way. The keeper is, as I have
seen, a lover of strawberries, and has an eye
for the pretty strawberry merchant. Two
days ago, as I was walking in the vicinity of
the prison gates endeavoring to study out the
most plausible means of getting the colonel
out of it, I noticed a young and good looking
girl go into the office where the fat jolly looking
keeper usually sits smoking a German
pipe. The door was open upon the street,
and the girl stepped timidly in, being called
to by him. As he priced the strawberries
he admired her eyes, and patted her on the
chin with his finger as he ate the berries out
of her basket. On one side of the office
was an open door that led upon a balcony or
gallery which communicated with the dwelling,
and also by a flight of steps with the
court yard of the prison. Over the door I
beheld hanging a bunch of keys, which I
satisfied myself were the keys of the cells,
by following a prisoner who was taken from
the court to the jail, and seeing him received
by the keeper who took down those keys to
open the inner doors.'
`Now if those keys could be got hold of,'
said the captain, with deep interest.
`So thought I, and I at length conceived a
plan which I shall try to carry into effect if I
can obtain the aid of the fair Jennette. My
plan is for her to represent a strawberry or
flower girl and go into the office, and while
she is entertaining the keeper with lively
conversation, Ogilvie, in the guise of a carpenter,
with a box of tools, was to step in and
ask the girl to take some of the strawberries
to his house. He would then watch his opportunity
and knock down the keys, as if by
accident, with a saw that is carried across
his shoulder for that purpose. Instead of replacing
the same bunch of keys he adroitly
takes another in exact imitation of it, from
his box of tools, and hangs it up, while he
takes possession of the true keys.'
`This, if well done, will be a great step,
but what will you do with the keeper when
you have got the keys?'
`I shall give Jennette, if she will take the
part of strawberry girl, a small smelling bottle
which she will make a present of to the keeper,
getting him to smell it. One inhalation
of it will stupify his senses, and render him
unconscious of what passes around him. Hugh
Ogilvie, then, habited as a carpenter, will
close the outer door, take the keys and penetrate
to his father's cell, for having been there
twice he took particular notice what keys
were used by the keeper to open the doors
leading to it.'
`But what will become of Jennette, the
-- 057 --
[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]
strawberry girl?' asked the captain, with a
look of alarm and surprise.
`She will leave the office as soon as the
ether takes effect, and I shall be near with a
carriage to remove her at once from the
scene, and bring back in safety to you.'
`It is a perilous business, sir,' said the
captain, shaking his head gravely. `My dear
child is all to me.'
`She is equally dear to me, if possible, my
dear captain. There is no real danger. She
will be disguised, and she will have left before
it will have taken full effect, or alarm given.
Nobody will ever suspect her agency. Nay,
were she to remain near by on the side-walk
who would ever suppose she had any act in
the fainting of the keeper?'
`But the keeper will be rude to her.'
`No; I should be the last person to place
her in the way of insult,' answered Gordon,
warmly. `His office door will be open—he
has a family of his own within call—and besides
he is too respectable to fear that. He
merely loves a pretty face, and such can tempt
him to forget his keys for five minutes, aided
by wit and courage.'
`Well, I will say no more. But when the
young man gets to his father's cell, what is
he to do?'
`Bring him forth, and place him upon a saddle
horse, which, with another for Hugh,
Cæsar here will hold in readiness for him a few
yards off. A back might be followed and overtaken,
but a saddle horse would be able to fly
soon from the scene of danger. They will
ride at once to this remote pier, where a boat
will receive them, and take them on board the
shallop which will at once sail for Halifax.'
`This is an excellently arranged plan, my
dear lieutenant, all save Jennette's part in
it. But I wont say a word against it if you
can persuade her. I know you are an honorable
man, and would not place her in any
peril, or her honor either. I will call her.
But I wish you could do without the strawberry
girl.
`I should have to invent an entire new
mode of proceeding to do so. This seems the
most likely to succeed, though I wish I could
devise a better. Now will you let me see
Jennette alone?'
`Yes; Cæsar and I will go and sit out on
the stoop, and I will call Jennette down,' answered
the old captain, rising.
`This tale shall be truly told thee!'
Leaning upon the shoulder of Cæsar, the
captain limped out of the room, a cane held
in his left hand, aiding his locomotion. Upon
reaching the foot of the stairs he called
out,
`Jenny, dear child.'
The maiden was seated by the window
which overlooked the water, just where and
just as we left her, a part of the time sewing,
but more of the time gazing vacantly from
the window with her thoughts upon her lover;
for she truly loved the unknown stranger,
though her strict sense of maidenly propriety
had led her to bid him cease to think of
her. There was some cause other than usual
which brought him at this time so forcibly
to mind, and made her think so much and
tenderly upon him. The voice of the disguised
sailor, unknowingly to her, had reminded
her of Gordon, and so without knowing
why she let him fill her thoughts. Well and
truly did the captain say to Gordon, that she
loved him, for she acted like a maiden lost-hearted.
-- 058 --
[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]
The sound of her father's voice startled
her from a pleasing reverie. She was fancying
that the handsome young officer perhaps
should one day meet her and rescue her from
some danger, and then insist on accompanying
her home. Of course she could not
refuse, and on the way, it being a moonlight
evening, he declares his passions for her, and
offers her his hand and heart. She then fancied
that she accepted him after be had
proved his sincerity, and that they were
about to be married, and the wedding dress
was sent to her, when—
`Nennette! come down, child.'
The voice of her father broke the vision,
and she sprang from the box on which she
had been seated, answering,
`I am coming, dear father. How long
have I been here? It seems an hour,' she
added to herself. I wonder if Cæsar and his
friend the benevolent sailor are gone?'
She hastened to the stairs and met her
father and Cæsar at the foot of them.
`What, dear father! Are you going out?'
`Only on the stoop to smoke and chat with
Cæsar. I want you to go in and entertain
my friend the while.'
`Indeed, sir, he is a stranger, though it is
true he has been very kind.'
`But he is my friend, Jenny,' said her
father in an under tone, `you mustn't say
no! Go in and be civil to him at the best.'
And a smile twinkled in the old man's eye,
and his manner was so significant that the
odd idea all at once flashed upon Jennette's
mind that the sailor with the red beard had
made proposals for her hand and the fifty
dollars were a sort of bonus to aid his suit'
`No, father, I can't go in! I am sorry
that he gave you the gold! I feared that it
was some sinister motive.'
`What sinister motive, eh?'
`Why do you want me to be so civil to
him? Why do you wish me to be alone with
him? He may be your friend, dear father,
but—but—'
`What is the matter with the child! Tears!
What bug-bear is this, my dear Jenny.'
`Plainly, I believe that the fifty dollars
had some reference to my personal liberty,'
she answered with spirit.
`Good! Excellent, my dear Jennette! So
you think I want to give you to the—the
sailor a tete-a-tete so that he may make you
an offer.'
`Else why this mystery! You leave him
there—send for me—bid me go in and entreat
him civily, while you and Cæsar, go and
smoke on the stoop' It is enough to alarm
any poor girl.'
`And you, I see, are thoroughly frightened,
child,' cried the captain laughing. Well,
don't be afraid! I will never ask you to
marry him if you don't want to! Go along
and wait for me on the stoop Cæsar! But
let me tell you that I shouldn't be surprise
if you should ask me to let you have him ere
you are many days older.'
`Why, my dear father!' exclaimed Jennette,
with deep blushes. `I am poor but—'
`But you would never take up with a common
sailor—is that it?'
`Yes, sir,' she answered drooping her eyelids.
`Nor a naval officer either, I dare say?'
added the captain provokingly.
Jennette's cheeks were at first crimson
and then became pale, and her bosom heaved
violently. She could not speak, though she
would have made some observation upon
what her father had said. He smiled, kissed
her and remarked in an under tone of great
tenderness.
`I will not trifle with you, Jennette. Your
secret is known to me! I know that you
love him, and you shall marry no one else
unless you wish it.'
`Love who, dear father?' she cried, looking
at him with amazement and a half-conscious
smile of intelligence.
`Love the young officer who behaved so
gallantly in your behalf on the bridge.'
`Why, my dear father—'
`And who found your needle-case and
-- 059 --
[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]
returned it to you in the milliner's shop?'
`Where—how did—'
`And who helped you tie the monkey to
the old Italians arm.'
`Who—how have—where did you—'
but here she stopped covered with confusion
and amazement, and hid her face in her
hands.
`Oh, I have a little fairy that tells me all
these pretty secrets.'
`Do tell me, my dear father, how you
knew all this?' she at length cried with emotion
and amazement.
`Well, to tell you the truth the sailor Jack,
in the room there told me.'
`He?'
`To be sure! He has sailed with this
officer and knows all his secrets. He is as
it were his factotum—his shadow.'
`And has he sent him here to—'
`I can't answer any questions,' responded
the captain, shaking his head and preparing
to limp off, `if you want to hear more you
must go and talk with him; for he wishes to
see you particularly. But you may do as you
please. Come here, Cæsar, and let me lean
upon you.'
With these words he turned from her and
took Cæsar's arm and hobbled out of the entry,
leaving Jennette standing irresolute,
pleased and wondering, upon the flight of
stairs where this conversation had taken
place. Her fingers was upon her lips as if
preventing the thoughts which rushed upon
her mind, from uttering themselves aloud.
`Is it possible that he has found me out and
sent this seaman to make known to my father
his passion. If it be so, it is an honorable
one, and my father approves of it. Oh, how
my heart bounds. I shall not be able to
keep it still if I go in but what he will hear
it beat and know how I love him who sent
him here. But I will go in, since my father
commands, and learn what it is he has to
say. Perhaps he has a note! Oh, sweet
joy, if he has continued to think kindly of
me! But how odd that my father should
find out that I love him; for he plainly
does know it. This vexes me, that I should
be such a simple girl as to let him read it in
my very eyes! I will go in.'
With a hesitating and trembling step Jennette
crossed the broken floor of the old hall
and placed her hand upon the latch. Here
she stood fearing to raise it, for she shrunk
from yet yearned one and at the same time
from the interview with the messenger of her
unknown lover. By a sudden effort of courage
she opened the door and entered, leaving
it ajar. But imagine her surprise—her joy, the
delighted confusion of her senses, as she beheld
not the red-beard sailor in his round-about,
but the same elegant young officer
whom she had met, and met but to love.
With an exclamation half uttered she
started back, while her eyes rapidly traversed
the room for the form of the sailor. But
not seeing him, she knew that it was with
him her father had wished her to have the interview.
Her first impulse was to retire, but
ere she could decide what to do or how to
act, Gordon advanced and smiling, extended
his hand and laid it gently upon her waist
while his eyes sought the depths of her own.
`Do not fly from me, dearest Jennette! I
have long sought for this happy moment.'
`You—you, have forgotten, sir, what I
said when I last saw you,' she said trying to
speak with self possession, but failing utterly;
for embarrassment grew every moment
greater. Her hand trembled in his, and she
did not raise her eyes to his face, but stood
like a beautiful status half in flight half in
confiding repose.
`I have not forgotten one word you uttered,
dear Jennette.'
`Why then have you followed me here? I
should not have come in but I understood my
father that it was a sailor who—'
`I am that sailor! There lies the dress
which covered my uniform, and you see
there's the patch and beard which concealed
my features.'
`I am vexed that—that—not knowing you
-- 060 --
[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]
I should have been betrayed into some remarks
I recollect making when I was in this
room an hour ago! Why, sir, if your—if—
Why do you come here in disguise? Would
you enter a rich man's door in that costume!
I am sorry, sir, that you should resort to this
step in order to force yourself into my presence.
'
She spoke with a firmness and dignity that
surprised him and pleased him. If he had
been guilty of the charge, he would have
been confused.
`You would condemn me justly, had I assumed
this disguise to force myself into your
presence, beautiful Jennette. Believe me,
when I say that I did not know you were an
inmate of this house until on entering it with
Cæsar I recognized you with joy. I came
here in disguise, because I was on a duty that
might endanger me if I were known. I was
ignorant of your presence here; for although
I have been diligently seeking you out since
we met, I despaired of ever meeting you, I
began to fear I had driven you from the city.'
`Are you sincere, sir? If you knew my
father, you knew he had a daughter.'
`True, I knew he had a daughter, and it
was that daughter I came to see.'
`That daughter you came to see! And—'
`I had not the most remote idea that it
would prove to be the lovely girl who had
robbed me of my heart.'
`Sir,' she said coldly, `If you thought of
another, you could little for me!' and she
drew back from him with a pale cheek and a
tremulous lip.
`Both grieved and offended,' said Gordon,
to himself. `I know now that she loves me!
But I must explain or I may lose her forever!
Fair Jennette, I have told you that I came
in disguise to see the daughter of Captain
Alison, and that I knew not that she was one
I had ever met! Why I come to see her, you
shall know! But I am about to entrust to
you a secret that involves the lives of others
and my own honor.'
`If it is necessary that I should hear it, I
will not betray it, sir.'
`It is, as, on your decision, may hang the
safety of one condemned to die.'
`On my decision, sir!' she exclaimed
with mingled amazement and horror.
`Yes, Jennett. I will explain in a few
words if you will listen!'
Gordon then briefly and feelingly described
to her the situation of Colonel Ogilvie, in
prison condemned to die, the anguish of his
son and his resolution to effect his rescue or
die by his side. Jennette listened with deep
interest. She forgot her fear of Gordon and
her confidence in him seemed stronger every
word he uttered. Indeed as he talked more
and more they became acquainted, and when
he ceased, adding, `Now Jennette, on you
we both depend for success,' she cried,
`What can I do? all that I can do I will!
But, sir, how can I aid?'
`You shall now learn!'
`And Gordon then made known to her the
plan by which he hoped with her aid to carry
out successfully his purpose, in behalf of
the prisoner.
`It was,' he continued, `to ascertain if the
daughter of Captain Alison, (little expecting
who that daughter was,) would engage in it!
Cæsar had told me of her, of her beauty, of
her filial devotion, of her father's poverty,
and I hoped that by the temptation of
money, I might prevail upon her! I therefore
came here disguised as a seaman to see
her. I disguised myself that I might not be
afterwards recognized in my usual costume
by your father should he, after knowing our
plan, decline to take part in it; for when he
should subsequently hear that the escape had
been effected, he would only be able to say
that a common sailor had been engaged in it.
But judge my surprise, my happiness, dearest
Jennette, when I recognized in that
daughter, your own self!' Jennette cast down
her eyes! Her heart beat violently. `Providence
has guided me hither to find you! Say
that from this hour we are friends; that—
that—dear Jennette, in one word I love you
dearly. Will you give me one faint ray of
hope,that—that—I may be loved in return?'
-- 061 --
CHAPTER XV.
[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]
`For love what will not woman do?
Dare pestilence, famine, rack and battle field.'
We left our lovers at the close of the last
chapter, at a moment the most interesting of
a lover's existence, when the noble heart,
pouring forth all its fulness, waits with trembling
the response of the one beloved.
Jennette heard the impassioned, yet embarrassed
declaration of love, full from the
lips of the young officer, with mingled joy and
pain. She was silent, and grew very pale—
and as he watched her lovely face for some
sign of hope, a glittering tear-drop rolled
down her fair cheek. He was moved—he
was alarmed. He feared he had offended
her.
`Forgive me, Jennette, it I have displeased
you,' he said, trying to possess himself of
her hand.
`You have not offended me, sir,' she answered,
tremblingly, yet scarce lifting her
eyes from the floor.
`I am rejoiced to know this much. Will
you suffer me to hope? I know I am, as it
were, a stranger to you—'
`Oh, no sir! It is fourteen months since
we first saw each other,' she said, with an artless
frankness that charmed him, while it
shadowed forth his hopes.
`I am glad you do not esteem me a stranger.
May I be regarded as your friend? I
am your father's, at least.'
`I did not know that you knew him, sir,
before!'
`I am the lieutenant, as he will tell you,
whom he rescued from the guard in Havana.'
`Lieutenant Hays?' she cried, with looks
of unalloyed pleasure.
`Yes, I am Lieutenant Hays.'
`My father must be overjoyed, when he
knows it.'
`He already knows it, and has recognized
me; and so has Cæsar.'
`And you also saved his life as well as my
father's. And I also owe you—'
`Nothing, Jennette—you owe me nothing.
Only give me your heart, for you have already
had mine more than a year. I have
opened my bosom freely to your father, and
he is on my side. Will you alone look coldly
on me?'
`Indeed, sir, I cannot look coldly, or feel
indifferently towards you,' she said, in a sweet
under tone, as if she feared to trust her voice.
`Then you will not bid me forget you?' he
cried, with joy.
`I can hardly realise, sir, that you are sincere.
I am a poor girl, and have no means
but my needle, and—'
`Do I not know all this?'
`You are rich, sir, and of high rank, and—'
`Your virtues and beauty out-rank all that
I can bestow on you, Jennette. Say that
you will not be so cruel as to send me away
in sorrows'
`I believe I will recall what I told you when
I saw you last,' she said, with an arch smile.
`That I must forget you? Kind Jennette.
There is one step gained,' he said, in a lively
manner. `Let me seal this upon this sweet
hand.'
And, ere she could withdraw it, he had
pressed upon it a kiss. She blushed deeply,
but did not withdraw it. She loved him in
her heart of hearts, and in letting her hand
remain in his, she was only obeying dictates
of feeling, which if carried out, would have
led her to cast herself into his loved arms.—
He saw, he knew that she loved him. No
man with a heart could doubt it.
-- 062 --
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`You must allow me one other step of hope,
dear Jennette,' he said, tenderly.
`What is that, sir?' she slightly smiled, as
she inquired.
`That I may remember you always.'
`I fear you will forget me, very soon.'
`No, Jennette. I don't mean to try the
experiment, either. I don't mean that we
shall part again, soon. Will you not tell me
that I am loved? I see it in your eyes—feel
it in your trembling fingers—hear it in your
throbbing heart. Say that I am loved again,
and make me happy!'
`Lieutenant Hays,' she said, with a calmness
and evenness of tone that startled him,
`were I of your position in society, your
equal in wealth and rank, I would confess
frankly that I love you, and, from the first,
have not ceased to think upon you with affection.
I should confess this, for I believe that
you are sincere in the attachment you profess
for me. But, as I am a poor, humble, unknown
sewing-girl, I ought to conceal my
feelings, which, as you see, I have given utterance
to.'
`I am now made happy, indeed, Jennette,'
cried Gordon. `Sweet companion! From
this hour we are one, in heart and being.'
`I hardly know what to say—I have either
said too much, or should say more!'
`Say no more nor less. You have confessed
your requital of my deep love. I ask
no more nor less. From this moment you
are mine. This will make your father happy.'
`And does he wish this?'
`Ask him, dearest Jennette.'
`He is here to answer for himself,' called
out the captain, looking in at the window.—
`So, Jennette, all is settled, I see,' he cried,
as he beheld his daughter just being blushingly
released from the enfolding arms of her
lover. `That is right. Did I not tell you,
lieutenant, that she loved you? Saw it in
her eye; but couldn't guess who. Come
and kiss me, Jennette. It isn't fair that this
young gentleman should have all.'
`Father!' cried Jennette, in a tone of play
ful reproach, as she went up to him and
threw her arms around him. `Oh, I am so
happy,' she whispered in his ear.
`Then you have loved him, child?'
`Dearer than life,' she softly replied, as
she hid her head on his shoulder.
`Well, my word for it, he loves you as
well. He is honorable as honor itself. Love
him without fear, child.'
`Thanks, thanks, dear father.'
The captain smiled. He then beckoned
the young lover, and taking him by the hand,
said, with dignity—
`Sir, you have done my child great honor,
and filled her heart with joy; for she has
loved you from the first, with all her young
heart. But she is worthy of you. You are
like each other, or you would never have
loved so at first sight, and so long and faithfully.
I honor you, that you overlook my
poverty—but you will find a treasure in Jenny,
better than gold.'
`I know it, sir. I loved her, ere I knew
her position or circumstances. I love her
more, that I know it is in my power to elevate
her to a position of repose and happiness.
I have feared that she would not love
me.'
`You do not fear that now?' said Jennette,
slowly raising her long-fringed lids, and resting
her beautiful tear-wet eyes upon his own,
for an instant, while a soft, happy smile,
danced in their depths.
`Fear? the word is forever forgotten by
me. Hope and joy hath taken its place.'
`Come, Jennette, thy hand in his, my
child,' said the old captain, as he joined their
hands together. `Now, God in Heaven bless
you. Love each other, and make one another
happy.'
`It shall be the study of my life, to make
Jennette happy, sir,' answered Gordon.
The maiden smiled, and looked already as
happy as one could be, and when, as her father
turned his head away, to hide a tear, he
drew her to his heart and kissed her, she did
not resist very hard, but only showed her
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surprise and sweet confusion by the richest
blushes.
`I am a blessed man this day,' exclaimed
the captain. `Here last night I was ready
to give up in despair, and to-day I find my
daughter the honored and affianced wife of
one who loves her and can protect her. All
this, lieutenant, was not brought about by
man's device,' added the captain, reverently.
`If you love Jennette, you must thank Heaven
for her!'
`I do, most fervently, sir,' answered Gordon.
`Now, to matters more grave and sorrowful,
' said the captain. Have you asked Jennette
if she will take the part of the strawberry-girl?
'
`No—and I almost fear to ask her, lest
she may be brought into danger.'
`What strawberry-girl, dear father? asked
Jennette.
Gordon then unfolded to her the whole
plot, as planned by him, for Colonel Ogilvie's
escape. She listened with deep attention.
When he had ended, she was for a moment
thoughtful, and then said with frankness, and
smiling,—
`I see who is to be the strawberry-girl. I
am ready,' she added, firmly.
`Noble Jennette! to consent so promptly
and unurged,' cried Gordon, both delighted
and sad: for he shrunk from identifying one
so dear to him, with so dangerous an enterprise.
`Take care of my child, lieutenant, and
see that harm does not become of it to her.—
She is my only child.'
`If I suspected any danger, I should not
suffer her to take part, captain. If the affair
could be planned without her, I would much
prefer it.'
`Can't Cæsar, here, go in and sell apples,
or even strawberries?' asked the captain.
`He might hardly be admitted into the
office, while a young girl would be, and could
hold him engaged in lively conversation,
which Cæsar would hardly be able to do.—
Then it would not be in character, for Cæsar
to have a smelling-bottle, and hold it at the
keeper's nostrils—for the whole of our success
will depend on the stupifying power of
the contents which he inhales.'
`I see—I see. But I would rather some
other mode and scheme had been hit upon.—
Do as you will, Jennette, you are now almost
as much Lieutenant Hays' as mine. But
have you the courage?'
`Yes, dear father. I am persuaded that
Colonel Ogilvie is an innocent man in heart,
though bloody in hand. For his son's sake,
and for the sake of Lieutenant Hays—'
`Of Gordon, dear Jennette; call-me Gordon,
and don't say yes sir and no sir to me,
I beg of you. They are like cheveaux de
frise, between my heart and thine. Be thou
to me Jennette, and I to thee Gordon.'
Jennette smiled, and seemed so glad that
she had one to love her who was so worthy
of her, that her tears mingled with her
smiles. She never was so happy in her life
before—and it is a question if any maiden
was ever made so glad-hearted as Jennette
was, by knowing that he whom she had so
long loved, loved her in return. She felt
that she could do and dare any thing in his
behalf; and, although her kindly sympathies
were touched by the recital of Colonel Ogilvie's
melancholy story, and although she felt
deeply for his son, yet these were not motives
sufficiently persuasive in themselves, to
have influenced her to take part in the rescue.
But when Gordon's wishes were understood,
rather than expressed, she at once
gave herself up to his diction, glad to have
this opportunity of testing before him her love.
`There is no danger, my dear father,'
she exclaimed `I have confidence in myself
in so good a cause, and I know that
Lieut—I mean Gordon,' she added, with a
mantling blush and smile, `would not suffer
me to put myself in peril.'
`That I would never, dearest Jennette,' he
answered, warmly. `Will you be ready at
six o'clock this evening?'
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`Yes, Gordon,' she answered, looking into
his face with a beaming glance, as she emphasized
his name. `But what shall I do?'
`Here is money, dear Jennette, with which
to fit yourself with the dress of a country
girl if you can find one at any of the shops.
Nay, do not refuse the money, Jennette dearest.
Are we not one? Besides, it is to be
laid out for our scheme. You must provide
strawberries to fill your basket and a pint
dipper with which to sell them. Everything
must be in keeping, At six, or soon after I
will be here with a hackney coach to take
you up near the prison. Hugh Ogilvie will
also be here with me to go up with us. When
I see you, Jennette, then I will give you the
smelling bottle containing the ether, and give
you more particular directions. If your self-possession
does not fail you there will be no
peril attending your part.'
`I shall think that I do it to please you,
dear Gordon,' she said, timidly uttering the
tender epithet before his name.
`Thanks for that kind expression, dearest
Jennette. I must now leave you for a few
hours to carry out the preparations. I have
two saddle horses to be made ready to be entrusted
to—'
`To me, massa leftenant,' cried Cæsar,
who was standing listening over the captain's
shoulder, who, as we have stated, was leaning
in at the low window of the room, while
Gordon and Jennette were inside of it.'
`Yes, to you, Cæsar,' said the captain,
`and you must perform your part faithfully.'
`I do dat, sure, massa cap'n,' answered
Cæsar, warmly. `Trust dis nigger in any
ting of dis kind and he nebber want back-stay
to hold him in he place.'
`Come with me, Cæsar,' said Gordon.
`captain, I will leave my sailor's clothes
here. I trust this will be the last day you
will remain in this wretched tenement. I
shall remove you and Jennette, as soon as the
colonel's rescue to more fitting lodgings.
Now, Jennette, good bye till evening, and
keep courage.'
`I do not shrink, Gordon.'
`Good-bye, and Heaven bless you,' he said
pressing her hand, and then, as if this were
a cold way of taking leave of her, he drew her
fondly to his heart. Their lips met, and Jennette,
disengaging herself with a delightful
air of confusion, retreated to the farther
window to indulge her joy and her tears.
Gordon shook the captain heartily by the
hand, and said:
`Be ready to receive me and Hugh Ogilvie
at a little before sunset.'
`That I will. You shall sup with me'
But I forgot, we have no tea-pot, nor crockery.
`We shall have no time to eat. To-morrow
you shall have need of nothing. Take
care of Jennette, and tell her she has made
me the happiest of men.'
With these words Gordon left the grateful
captain, and hastened from the house, turning
back once to exchange a glance with
Jennette, and then followed by Cæsar he
took his way up the wharf.
`True love in the cottage lowly dwells.'
We now change the scene of our story to
another part of the city, in a street lined with
stately edifices, the abodes of taste and wealth
and fashion. One of these dwellings is conspicuous
amid the rest for the architectural
elegance of its facade, and a noble portico of
white marble. The windows are of lofty
height and open upon an iron balcony. Before
it is a yard of shrubbery, the foliage of
which nearly conceals, like a green bower,
-- 065 --
[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]
one of the windows with its balcony. The
casement is open, and a glimpse of crimson
curtains of the richest satin intertwined with
muslin drapery, of pictures upon the walls,
and a superb chandelier suspended from the
exquisitely stuccoed ceiling, show the wealth
and luxury of the proprietor.
This mansion is the abode of Gordon
Hays. All at once there is a movement of
the drapery of the windows, and a young girl
appeared on the balcony. She was a noble
looking creature, with a superb figure, and a
splendidly black eye. The carriage of her
head was proud, yet her face expressed a
kind and generous temper. She was very
handsome, and dressed with great elegance
and taste. A mocking bird's cage hung over
the balcony, and amid the foliage pressed the
gilt wires of a canary's prison. She held in
her hand a cup of seeds with which she proceeded
to feed her favorites, all the while answering
their chirps of gratitude with some
pretty playfulness of speech. There was,
with all her liveliness, an expression of sadness
upon her features, as if she had some
secret source of sorrow. As she fed the
mocking bird it picked once or twice angrily
at her fingers.
`Ah, nestor, you naughty bird. You forget
yourself. You are very fractious of late.'
`Perhaps, Bella,' said Gordon Hays, stepping
upon the balcony, `perhaps he remembers
his former master who presented him to
you, and is trying to show you his displeasure
at your treatment of the noble Hugh.'
Gordon spoke not without a slight tone of
reproach, though he shaped his words playfully.
`Perhaps it is so, brother,' answered Bella
Hays, with a slight tremor of her upper lip.
`I shall have to send him to Mr. Ogilvie
again.'
`And so complete your work, by breaking
the most loving heart that ever was devoted
to woman. Why is it that you are so
cruel?'
`You know my opinion, Gordon, and all
that you say cannot move me,' she said firmly
though she was very pale.
`You never loved him, to change so soon.'
`I loved him dearer than life, Gordon.
But I could not unite myself to a man whose
father is —. But I will not allude to
such a painful subject. I pity Hugh with all
my heart. I have wept for him, as well as
for myself. Do not embitter my life, brother,
by adding to the poignancy of the sacrifice
I have made, bitter words of censure. If my
life could have been accepted in the place of
his father's, cheerfully would I have laid it
down. But when that father must die ignominously
on the scaffold, die branded as a
murderer and a robber, can I unite my fate
with the son? Could Hugh expect it?' she
said warmly and feelingly.
`Love, methinks, would have little considered
this. It is generally single-eyed and exclusive,
and when it clings like the ivy, it withstands
all storms, and though it be but a ruin
which it holds to, it wreathes itself about it,
and even lends a glory to it You did not
love Hugh thus.'
`Gordon,' said the maiden with a blushing
brow, while she dropped her eyes as she
spoke in a tone low but firm, `I loved him
too well to see him degraded hereafter in his
children. I refused his hand that hereafter
in coming years his heart might not be made
to bleed by having his sons insulted with the
jeer that their grandfather was hanged. I
I could not entail upon innocent offspring
ignominy and shame. I would never a son
or daughter of mine (you are my brother, I
should not speak so openly as I am called
upon to do) blush for father or mother. Love
Hugh! Look at my heart, Gordon, if thou hast
the skill to read it, and you will find it written
over with the name of him you say I hate.
Henceforward let this subject be dropped.'
`But one question more, dearest Isabel,'
he said earnestly, as he followed her into the
drawing-room.
`I will hear it if it does not allude to this
distressing theme.'
-- 066 --
[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]
`If Colonel Ogilvie should escape from
prison, and thus avoid his fate, would you
then smile upon Hugh?'
`But escape is impossible. The day after
to-morrow, is the day set for his execution.'
`But if he should escape? If he should
reach a foreign land in safety, would you`
knowing as you do all the mitigating circumstances,
under which Colonel Oglivie committed
the act, for which he is in prison
would you then bid Hugh to hope?'
`Is there any prospect of his escape, brother?
' she cried with surprise, and keenly looking
at him.
`It is possible.'
`Do not engage in anything of that kind
my dear brother!' she cried with surprise
and alarm.
`I shall not put myself in any peril. Colonel
Ogilvie will not be executed so long as-Hugh
lives to make an effort for his release.
`And has he made such—is he making
such?' she asked earnestly, with a pale,
earnest look, while she firmly and nervously
grasped her brother by the arm. `Where is
Hugh? where did you see him?'
`I am glad to see you take an interest in
him. I told you some days ago he had returned
from sea, and would like to visit you;
but you forbade his presence, and in such a
manner, as has deeply wounded his feelings.'
`I am sorry, if I have injured his feelings,
brother. I mean't not to do that. But tell
me if he is so rash as to propose taking any
steps towards his father's release?'
`I have told you that Hugh will not sleep
till he sees his father in safety.'
`Then there will be another victim. He
will fail, and be arrested,' she cried with alarm
and emotion, that betrayed the liveliest interest
in the safety of the lover she had discarded.
`Hugh has weighed all the risks. But he
cannot be moved from his purpose. Aside
from filial duty to his father, he is inspired
with the secret hope that if he can rescue his
father from the ignominy of the gallows, you
Isabel may reconsider your decision, and
once more bid him hope. It is for your sake
he will incur this danger. If he falls into
peril it will be for love of one who has—'
`No bitter words brother. I tremble for
the safety of Hugh. If one word from me
would check him. But one word would be
everything, and then if I cause him to desist
from this wild project of saving his father, he
will surely perish according to the sentence;
while it is possible he may save him.'
`I hardly know what to do or says.'
`Say, that if his father's rescue is effected
you will be his.'
`The objections I have to uniting my fate
with Hugh, will then be partially removed.
It will not be so forcible, and—'
`You mean to say that you will once more
smile upon Hugh.'
`That I will not promise; for it will be
like a reward offered for him to save his father;
and I shall feel myself to blame for any
danger that he might fall into in this hazardous
enterprise. I have nothing to say, Gordon.
I leave Hugh to himself, and his own
impulses. But if he is engaged in a plan to
rescue his father, I fear he will be lost with
him. Yet I cannot bid him withhold, lest I
be guilty of Colonel Ogilvie's blood. But,
Gordon, enter not into the plan for my sake.'
`I shall take no part that will at all implicate
me, Isabel.'
`I fear that your friendship for Hugh may
lead you to incur both the loss of liberty and
honor.'
`I shall do nothing unadvisedly, Isabel,'
answered Gordon, as he prepared to go out;
for it was now nearly four o'clock of the afternoon
of the day on which he had left
Jennette. Throwing on an over-coat, a
small viol of beautiful shape and of an amber
color fell to the floor.
`What is this? a smelling bottle!' cried his
sister, catching it up, and about to put it to
her nostrils. `Where did you begin to use
such womanly trifles as these, brother?' she
said laughingly. `Or perhaps it is a present
to that beautiful girl, the invalid captain's
-- 067 --
[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]
daughter, you have been talking so much to
me about, to-day.'
Gordon hurriedly took the bottle from her
hand ere she applied it to her nose, and placing
it in his pocket said:
`It is only for my own use. I have been
trying some experiments,' he answered with
an embarrassed air. `But suppose it were a
present to the lovely girl I have spoken to
you so much about?'
`Well, I should say that unless you seriously
intended to offer your hand to her, it is
very wrong in you to make her presents, or
indeed flatter her with attention. You will
awaken hopes in her bosom never to be realized;
and you will render her life unhappy.'
`Your advice is sensible like yourself,
dear Bel; but suppose I really intended to offer
her my hand.'
`Offer marriage to a poor sewing-girl, for
though her father has been a packet captain,
you confessed to me that she supported herself
by her needle.'
`True, and this is the more creditable to
her. Suppose, by some unforseen calamity,
Bel, we should be cast destitute upon the
world, and I an invalid. Do you think you
would be loved any less by Hugh Ogilvie if
he found you supporting yourself and me by
your needle?'
`But, this person is of very different condition.
'
`Scarcely. She is, as I have said, perfectly
beautiful, though something pale, accomplished
by native grace of manner, her mind
cultivated, and her heart sound and true.
She is amiable, filial, intelligent and sensible,
and indeed possesses every quality to
make a man happy, and proud of her.'
`Certainly, Gordon, you are in love with
her. Have a care of your heart and her
peace.'
`Bel,' he said, all at once speaking very
quickly and suddenly, as if changing the
subject, `I have at last discovered my Fair
Unknown.'
`The lovely girl we met in Washington
street, and for whom you have shown such a
romantic attachment?'
`Yes, and as you have always interested
yourself so kindly in my interest in her. I
know you will rejoice to find out that I have
discovered all about her. But she is—I am
sorry to say—not rich.'
`That is no positive objection, if she is respectable.
'
`Well that may be as folks decide. I
think she is.'
`Who is she?' You have so long been in
chase of this Phantom, with such rare meetings,
that I am almost as much interested to
know who she is as you can be.'
`Well, in a word, she and Jennette Alison
are one and the same,' he said with an air of
triumph.
`Is it possible? Then I am curious to see
her. How very singular.'
`Wonderfully so.'
`And is she so very beautiful, and refined?
'
`You shall see her for yourself.'
`When?'
`To-night. I intend to bring her and her
father here in a carriage; for to tell you the
truth, I cannot bear that they shall longer
remain in the miserable tenement which I described
to you.'
`Bring her here, Gordon? are you crazy?'
`By no means. Her father will be with
her, and—'
`But do you mean to make her an inmate
of the house?' asked Isabel with surprise.
`Only till to-morrow, when I trust she
will be entitled to be mistress of it.'
`Do I hear aright? Are you serious?
Do you intend to unite yourself in marriage
with this sewing-girl, however so romantic
may have been your love for her?'
`Don't look so proudly, Bel. The maiden
is already my affianced wife. I love her and
she loves me.'
`Of course—you are rich and she a beggar.
'
`Nay, she loved me ere she knew anything
-- 068 --
[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]
about me. She has loved me ever since we
first met opposite the house.'
`Yes, a monkey scrape you have got yourself
into indeed.' She answered with a
scornful smile. `The idea that Gordon
Hays, a rich young gentleman and an officer
in the Navy of the United States, one who
might command the hand of the proudest
lady in the land, the idea of his falling in love
with, and marrying a sewing-girl, is absurd
enough to excite laughter, were not pity and
anger paramount.'
`I see that you are displeased, Bel. But
you will alter your mind when you come to
see Jennette Her father is a very respectable
man, and she has never been a hired
sewer in the shops.' She is as modest and
retiring a maiden as any in Boston; and she
has no superior in goodness of heart, and
personal beauty.'
`Well,' answered Isabel, laughing goodnaturedly,
though she still looked a little
vexed; since your lady-love is such a prodigy,
I should like to see her. For that you are irrevocably
in love is certain; and as I can say
nothing to turn you from your course, I must
try and make the best of it. If you bring
her to the house I will receive her graciously
for your sake.'
`Thanks, dearest sister, and when you see
her and have learned to love her, you will detain
her and give her a place in your heart
for her own sake,' answered Gordon, as he
affectionately pressed his lips to his sister's
hand.
`O'er the waters light as a lark.'
Gordon was not a little gratified at having
so successfully combatted his sister's prejudices;
for though Isabel was at heart a generous
and right feeling person, she had a certain
pride of family and caste that rendered
her averse to any union by marriage with one
of inferior degree. It was therefore a great
thing for him so far to remove her objections
as to lead her to say that she would receive
Jennette when she came with her father. Besides,
she had some curiosity to see one of
whom, ere her name was known, she had heard
so much. For Gordon had not failed to make
her the confidant of his passion for the lovely
unknown. He had described to her each
meeting and its circumstances, and especially
sought her sympathy and advice after the interview
in the old deaf milliner's shop. The
firmness, propriety and modest dignity which
the unknown had shown had deeply interested
Isabel in her; and from that time both of
them were anxious to discover who she was.
On the day in which we introduce Isabel
in person to our readers, in the balcony
of her house, Gordon had reached home after
taking leave of Jennette and the captain,
and proceeded to describe to her playfully
a poor captain's daughter whom he had met,
in order to ascertain what his sister's views
might be. But he found her so coldly uninterested,
especially when he proceeded warmly
to describe her person and her virtues, that
he resolved for the present to drop the subject.
But ere long, not an hour afterwards,
as we have seen stated, again when he revealed
to her who this captain's daughter was,
as being none other than his unknown.
Isabel's joyful surprise at the intelligence
was qualified on the instant by the knowledge
that Gordon loved her; and so, instead of
-- 069 --
[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]
being rejoiced to learn that the unknown was
discovered, she trembled at the danger in
which her brother stood of sacrificing himself
to her beauty.
But finding that he was honorably attached
to Jennette, and that her farther opposition
might offend without producing any good
effect she submitted, as we have witnessed,
to treat her with courtesy. As Gordon opened
the door to go out, Isabel laid her hand
upon his arm, and said kindly:
`Would it not be best that I should call
for her in the carraige? It would appear
better than for you to go and bring her
here.'
`You are a most generous girl, Bel. You
always come round right at last. But really
I don't wish you to see how destitute they
live; and I know it would mortify Jennette,
though she might not show it. I will be here
with her by nine o'clock at the latest.'
`Why not earlier?'
`Because I have an engagement which will
occupy me till then.'
`You are very much abroad of late. Last
night you did not come home at all. Do not
stay late to-night. What negro is that waiting
before the house?'
`A sailor with whom I have had some little
business,' answered Gordon, glancing at
Cæsar, who had been waiting on the side-walk
for the last ten minutes. Thus saying
Gordon left the hall, and followed by Cæsar
passed up the street.
`Are the horses ready?' he asked of him,
as they turned into a lane which led to a
stable.
`All ready, massa.'
`You told the hostler you would want them
at seven o'clock?'
`Yiss, massa.'
`Very well. Now, Cæsar,' he added, as
he stopped in an angle of the street, `listen
to your instructions.'
`I hear and 'member ebbery word.'
`At seven o'clock precisely by the Old
South clock you will mount one of the horses
and lead the other from the stable, and proceed
by the way of Tremont and Charles
street round to the narrow street which runs
south of that in which the jail stands.'
`North Allen, massa?'
`I don't know the name, but there is a
narrow and obscure foot way running from
it directly into Leverett street in the front of
the prison.'
`I know dat little foot alley, massa.'
`Stop with your horses at the mouth of
this alley, but do not tie them, but keep the
bridles on your arm. Have them ready to be
mounted at a moment's warning.'
`Yiss, massa, I onderstand.'
`If any one is so curious as to inquire
why you stand there with the horses, you can
answer—'
`Dat I am waiting for de doctor.'
`Very good. Now do you know your
part?'
`Yiss, massa.'
`When you see one or two men running
through the alley hold the horses for them to
mount.'
`Spose dey no right ones, massa?'
`They will be likely to be the right ones if
any, but if they say “shallop,” as they approach
you—'
`I may know dey are de right men. I
onderstand, massa Gordon, all 'bout it.'
`Very well. Now I leave you, and remember,
Cæsar, all may rest with you at last.'
`Yiss, massa; but whar am I to go when
dey takes de hosses?'
`You are to make the best of your way to
the pier where I met you last night, where,
if you are in time, you will go on board the
shallop.'
`If not, massa?'
`You must be in time.'
`Yiss, massa.'
`Now be faithful, Cæsar, and recollect you
will be well rewarded.'
Thus speaking Gordon took leave of the
faithful black and passed into Washington
street. Cæsar stood a moment looking after
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[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]
him, and then shook his head gravely, as he
said, while he approached the stable door:
`Dis berry 'tickler peas ob business. I
berry much 'fraid Cæsar or somebody get into
mischief. But dat notin', so I pleases massa
Gordon and missy Jenny, coz dey is sweethearts.
Bress my soul, how dey does love
each odder, sure nuff. It am de happiest circumstans
in de world I happens to see massa
Gordon on de wharf, coz I tells him 'bout
missy Jenny, and when he sees her he falls
dead ober head and ears in love wid her.
And now she gwine to be married to massa
Gordon and ride in um coach, and massa
cap'n'll have a pocket full ob dimes ebbery
day. Oh, arnt dis nigger de happiest brack
gemman in dis 'public ob de Union. But I
must look arter my hosses, coz dey are to
hab a run to-night, though it be a short one,
it be one for life or def. What ho, you brack
colored gemman as keeps dis stable and waits
on de hosses, hab you gib de two hosses my
massa hire here to-day, four quart oat?'
`Yah, dey habs 'em, Mister Cæsar,' politely
answered a short, bow-backed, shuffle-footed
negro, who acted as valet to the steeds.
`Dat berry well. Now I want you to rub
'em down till dey shine like a dollar dipped
in 'lasses.'
`Dey shines dat way now.'
`Dey doos, doos dem? Dat am jist as it
should be, nigger Pete.'
`Whar you massa gwine, to hab two hosses
saddled to ride off at dark?'
`You berry 'quisitive, nigger. My massa
come here and hire de hosses of your massa,
and tell him I come for 'em at dark. Dat
nuff for you and de likes ob you to know, nigger.
All you hab to do is to feed 'em and
rub 'em. Don' gemman nebber get hosses
out ob your stable after dark?'
`Oh yiss, Mister Cæsar, to be sure. I ony
axed for informashun,'
`Well, I hab gib it to you. Now let me
see de saddles and bridles dese hosses is to
hab; coz I wants to hab ebbery ting sure.'
`The hostler led Cæsar to a rack where he
selected two saddles, and then proceeded to
superintend the rubbing down of the two
horses, which were fine looking bays, spirited
and full of fire.
After Gordon left Cæsar to superintend
the horses he took his way in the direction
of Leverett street, and after traversing it
some distance he stopped at a hack stand, and
said a few words to the hackman, and then
passed on slowly until he came near the jail.
He then walked carelessly past the office of
the keeper, and was gratified at finding him
seated there and the bunch of keys hanging
above his head; but while Gordon was lookin
he saw him rise, take down the keys, and
go towards the court of the cells.
`All is right so far. In two hours more
the issue will be manifest,' he said thoughtfully.
Now to the wharf, and a happy meeting
with dearest Jennette.'
He then returned past the jail, and stopped
at the coach, the door of which the driver
opened for him unasked, as if he had been
previously engaged.
`Where to, sir?' he asked, as he shut to
the carriage door.
`To — wharf,' answered Gordon, as he
dropped the blinds and curtains of his hack,
which went at a rapid pace in the direction
of the harbor.
In the meanwhile Hugh Ogilvie had remained
on board his shallop waiting impatiently
for the long day to pass. Fearing he
would excite attention by remaining in the
cove, he ran down the harbor a few miles,
and returned towards the middle of the afternoon.
The sun was two hours high when he
once more reached the island. Here he
waited for it to descend within a quarter of
an hour of the horizon, when he gave the
stirring order to his crew to hoist the sails
and stretch away for the town. The wind
though light was fair, and just as the sun disappeared
he saw a moving light twinkling on
the end of the pier towards which he was
steering. In a few minutes more he came so
near as to discern two persons, one of whom
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[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]
he soon recognized to be Gordon. He felt
now that all was ready, and it was with a
throbbing heart he steered his little vessel
broadside to the end of the lonely pier;
while the men secured her to the iron rings
he leaped to the land.
`What news? Is all favorable?' he asked,
with emotion, and in an excited manner.
`All is as we could desire so far, dear
Hugh,' repiled Gordon as he grasped his hand.
`The young girl, too?'
`Yes, she has consented to take the part
of the strawberry girl. But you shall see
her for yourself as she is in this house.'
`And I? What am I to do?'
`You are to take the part of carpenter
with a box of tools, which, with a carpenter's
apron and a green frieze jacket I have ready
for you in this dwelling.'
`A thousand thanks, my kind Gordon.'
`Do not stop now to thank me, Hugh.
When you have attired yourself as a carpenter,
which you must do at once, we shall take
a coach which I have engaged and which
awaits us at the head of the wharf. In the
coach I will unfold our plans farther. Now
come in; but first you must give orders to
your men to have the shallop in readiness
to cast off at a moment's notice.'
`They are instructed. The sails will not
even be lowered. She will lay there where
she is like a courser ready bitted and bridled
awaiting his rider.'
`And this reminds me of the horses I have
engaged for you and the colonel. You remember
the narrow pathway between the
houses opposite the jail that leads from one
street into the other?'
`Yes, well. I have stood in it looking
over towards the jail when I have been planning
for my father's escape.'
`At the southern extremity of that narrow
thoroughfare, Cæsar, the negro I spoke to
you of, will be found waiting with a pair of
saddle horses, one for you and one for your
father. Horses cannot be so easily pursued,
if pursuit instantly follows, as a carriage.'
`How thoughtful you are, Gordon. You
speak, too, with so much confidence that one
of the horses is for my father, that I almost
realise that he is at liberty.'
`Do not despair. It is a bold attempt, but
I do not doubt but that, if you are cool and
self-possessed at the most trying time, it will
be successful.'
`I most earnestly pray that it may be.
Then if I succeed in getting my father out
of prison, I am to hasten with him through
the alley opposite and take horse?'
`Yes, and ride at a round trot for this
pier. You will find a man here who will take
the horses, while you will get on board the
shallop, and steer for the British Provinces.'
`I now see clearly my way, if it is prospered.
Where is my disguise?'
`Come in this house with me. Do not
hesitate to enter, they are my friends, both
father and daughter.'
`I am thankful for it,' answered Hugh, as
he followed Gordon into the front room,
where sat the old captain, and near him stood,
dressed as a strawberry girl, the faithful Jennette.
Gordon, although he had been in the
house before and seen her, could not help
gazing upon her with fresh admiration; for
he thought her now more beautiful than ever.
Ogilvie on beholding her started with surprise
and said aside:
`Heavens, how charming. Is this the one
who is to take part with us?'
`Yes, and afterwards with me for life, Hugh.'
`What! are you lovers?'
`Without question.'
`I wish you joy, Gordon. I will ask some
other time how this came about.'
`This is my friend, Hugh Ogilvie, for whom
we are to-night to do service,' said Gordon.
`We will do all in our power for you, sir,'
said Jennette, taking his hand, and speaking
with a frankness that almost won his heart.
`Thanks, thanks, all of you kind friends,'
answered Hugh, with emotion; for his heart
swelled with the deepest gratitude towards
those who at such an hour stood fast by him.
-- --
CHAPTER XVIII.
[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]
`Thy song is sweet, thy berries should be sweet
Also, maiden.'
Hugh having been conducted by the old
captain, into one of the empty apartments
of the old house, was left there to put on his
disguise assisted by Gordon, and aided by
the light of a farthing candle.
`Excellent,' exclaimed Gordon, as his
friend turned himself about with his carpenter's
box upon his shoulder, `you would
never be taken for anything else than a carpenter
even by the craft.'
`I am glad the disguise is so perfect,' answered
Hugh. `If success but crown our
efforts.'
`Do not fear. Now let us go down and
take the lovely Jennette with us. She is a
noble girl, Hugh, and sacrifices her feelings
to aid you.'
`Heaven bless her for it. I am now ready.'
They descended the stairs together, and in
the room below found Jennette waiting with
her father.
`Now, Jennette,' said Gordon. `Good
bye, captain; within an hour you shall hear
the result.'
`Take good care of my child, lieutenant,'
said the captain, earnestly. `Do not let danger
befall her from this step she is taking. I
give my consent only because I hope it may
save a really innocent person from the gallows;
for I do not feel that Colonel Ogilvie
at heart was a guilty man. Bless you, my
child. Be firm and self-possessed.'
`The consciousness of the solemnity of
the task imposed upon me, dear father, will
render me so,' she answered as she gave her
hand to Gordon.
`Your disguise is complete, sir,' said Captain
Alison to Hugh, as he surveyed him, as
in his green jacket, apron and old cap, he
stood before him, his box of tools mounted
upon his shoulder. `Be cool and wary, and
I believe you may succeed.'
`All will depend on Jennette's success
with the keeper,' answered Gordon. `Loving
her as I do, it is no light thing that would
induce me to give my consent to expose her
to his free gaze. But she consents freely to
take the part, and I have confidence in her
tact and judgment.'
`I shall do my best. Good night, dear
father,' she said, embracing him.
The next moment they had left the house,
and entering the coach at the head of the
wharf, were driven away in the direction of
the prison. The darkness had already set
in, and the lights at the corners of the streets
were the only guide of the coachman until
he entered Hanover street, when the brilliant
shop windows lent the glare of bright
moonlight to surrounding objects. Gordon
drew the curtains of the carriage closer, lest
by chance they might be recognized by any
passer by. He took Jennette's hand to
thank her for her courage and kindness in
-- 073 --
[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]
taking part with them, and found that it
trembled.
`You fear to undertake it, dear Jennette,'
he said in an under tone.
`No, oh no,' she answered earnestly. `Still
the duty is so strange—and—and if all fails
it may involve you in so much danger.'
`Thinking of me and forgetting yourself,
noble Jennette. How this touches my heart.
More and more I love and esteem you;' and
he pressed his lips to her hand, `There
can be no danger befall me. All is arranged
so that none of the parties can suffer unless
Hugh lose his presence of mind. His part
is most dangerous.'
`The object I have in view, Gordon, will
make an iron man of me. Is Miss Alison
well schooled in her part?'
`I believe so, Jenuette. But I will repeat
my instructions. You will as soon as you
leave the carriage proceed with this basket
of strawberries and your boquets directly
along the sidewalk to the prison. The office
door you will find open. The keeper,
a stout, red-faced gentleman will probably
be in the door, or seated in an arm-chair,
smoking his after supper cigar. You will
call “strawberries” as you approach his
door, with that admirable imitation of the
strawberry woman's cry you practised to-day
before us. You will step into the office and
ask if the keeper wishes to buy.'
`Yes, yes; I know my part well now.
And the vinaigrette. Does it contain nothing
that may produce death, Gordon? This
troubles me more than all.'
`Do not fear to give it to him It contains
only an extremely subtle ether which,
when the silver lid of the bottle is raised and
it is inhaled, produces torpor and insensibility.
The effects are almost instantaneous.
Your post, therefore, is so to manage while
your trade in strawberries goes on, to get
him to smell the bottle. The whole then is
done to our hand; for the moment he becomes
insensible, Hugh will seize the keys
and make his way boldly to the cell where
his father is confined. You will leave the
office as soon as you see the keeper affected,
and I shall be at hand to convey you to the
carriage in which you will at once remove
this outward disguise appearing in your own
modest and plain costume.'
`We are at the foot of — street, sir,'
said the coachman calling to them through
the front window of the carriage, and at the
same time reining up.
`We stop here, Jennette. It is but a short
walk to the prison. You will go on ahead
and Hugh will follow at a few paces with his
box of tools. I will be at hand to protect
you from danger, Jennette, or insult.'
The coachman opened the door, and Gordon
assisted Jennette to the pavement. Hugh
followed, saying to Gordon, so as to deceive
the hackman,
`I thank you, sir, for giving me a ride so
far on my way home. It is tiresome enough
for a poor mechanic to work all day and then
to walk home a mile after dark. To-morrow
I will be down early to the old house and
finish the job.'
`Do so,' answered Gordon, as Hugh walked
on. `Coachman, you will wait for as
here. Turn your horses' heads the other way,
and keep ready to drive off as soon as we return.
'
`Aye, aye, sir,' responded the knight of
the whip, with that indifference as to the affairs
of his “fare” which characterises this
fraternity; but in his own mind, for hackney
coachmen sometimes have their private opinions
touching the movements of those who
employ them, this was a runaway match.
The place at which the coach stopped,
was at the meeting of three streets, and beneath
the dark shade of a large sycamore
tree. The spot was retired as the street was
but little frequented, though not far distant
could be heard the roar of wheels upon the
pavements of a crowded thoroughfare.
After reaching the head of the dark lane,
Hugh stopped till Gordon and Jennette came
up with him.
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[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]
`Now, my dear Gordon, we are within a
few steps of the prison. The fate of my
father hangs upon us three. Let neither of
us falter in our parts. Think, Miss Alison,
of my grey-headed father, when your heart
would fail you, and be firm for his sake. I
know the task before you is a trying one,
and attended with danger. But you are as
brave as generous. I leave my father in
your hands.'
`Do not put the whole weight of responsibility
upon a poor girl like me, Mr. Ogilvie.
But I shall try to be true to you and to myself.
'
`The very tone of your voice gives me
confidence. Are you sure the horses are in
waiting, Gordon?'
`I had best see.'
`No, I will go round myself, and shall
then know better their just locality when I
shall want to use them. Remain here. I
shall return in five minutes.'
Thus speaking he crossed the street, and
after traversing one of those narrow courts
so common in that quarter of the city, he
passed under an arched way that led him into
an obscure lane about one hundred yards
south of the prison.
He soon came to a negro holding two
saddled horses, near the outlet of a narrow
thoroughfare, that led directly to the prison,
its lower opening being opposite the gate.
`Whose horses are those?' he said as if
he desired to test both his disguise and the
discretion of Cæsar.
`Dey belong to de doctor, my master. He
live dere, and am goin' to ride out to see
somebody sick in de country. De man who
own dis oder horse is in de house wid him
now. Now you know, take your box o' tools
and be off,' added Cæsar in an under tone,
as Hugh satisfied of the certainty of this
mode of escape turned and left him.
In a few moments afterwards, he rejoined
Gordon and Jennette, who had not left unimproved
by tender converse this interval in
which they had been left together.
`All is safe there, Gordon,' said Hugh.
`The faithful Cæsar stands ready with the
horses. Now it becomes us to do our part.'
`I am ready, Mr. Ogilvie, to do mine,' answered
Jennette, with animation. `Good
bye, Gordon, and do not doubt my self-possession,
'
`I do not, Jennette, dearest. But I doubt
my own resolution. I am half tempted to
forbid your going. As the moment approaches
my imagination invests your path with a
thousand perils. But go forward. All depends
on the next half hour. I will hover
near to watch for your safety. Do not fail
to leave the office the moment you see the
keeper smell of the vinaigrette. Hasten at
once towards the carriage, but not so hurriedly
as to excite remark. Now Heaven
protect thee, and prosper your mission.'
With these words he pressed his lip to her
cheek, and the next moment she was tripping
along many paces from him, her basket
of strawberries upon her arm; and ere he
could reconcile himself to the perilous position
in which he had placed her, he heard
her sweet voice singing cheerfully the well
known strawberry cry—
`Straw-ber-r-r-r-ries. Who will buy my
nice fresh strawberries.'
`The ball is open now,' said he, `and
courageously too.'
`That voice is the signal trumpet for action,
Gordon. What a fearless and free tone
it has. She is a noble girl Gordon, and for
the part she takes this night, whether I fail
or prosper, she has won my deepest gratitude.
I will now go forward and do my part.'
`I shall be at hand to aid all in my power,
' answered Gordon, as Hugh strode forward
and entered the street in which a few
rods distant the prison was situated. The
street was dark, save where a lamp at one
distant corner and another directly above the
keeper's office at the gate, threw its light upon
the sidewalk. The hour was precisely
a quarter to eight, as Jennette advanced to
the door of the office singing her strawberry
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[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]
ditty most melodiously. Several persons
passing, stopped to listen, and others to look
back to admire her pretty appearance.
The keeper sat in his office with the front
door open, and the back door ajar, in order
that the breeze might circulate freely through,
for it was a warm summer's night.
The office was a small, square apartment,
in the east wing or flank of the prison, the
dark, grey walls of which extended along
the street for a hundred feet or more. The
only access to the interior of the walls was
through the keeper's lodge, where now the
keeper sat in his leathern arm-chair midway
between the two doors, smoking his cigar.
He could see the street and persons passing,
through one door, and command the interior
of the prison court-yard through the
other, and at the same time enjoy the cool
breeze which circulated through the apartment.
The walls of the office were hung
with maps and plans of prisons, portraits of
sheriffs and eminent criminal judges; and
the likenesses of several noted criminals
decorated the low mantel-piece, on which also
was a scull, the head of a famous bucanier
who had been hanged some years before.
A piece of candle was now stuck in one of
the eye-sockets. The floor was nicely sanded,
and a pair of spittoons, one on each side
of the keeper bore testimony to the neatness
of the tobacco smoker. Behind him, or rather
a little to the right of him upon a rack on
which hung hats, caps, hand-cuffs, gives
and old keys, was a brass pin, on which was
suspended a huge bunch of well used keys.
They were within reach of the keeper's
hand. These were the keys of the cells, and
to the possession of which Hugh Ogilvie
aimed. Near the keys hung two small mysterious
looking cords neatly done up, and
labelled—“Noose No. 1—Noose No. 2,”
doubtless hangman's hemp which had seen
service.
The personage who occupied this apartment
was a corpulent man, with a rosy, good
humored countenance, but with an eye re
markable for its cool, collected expression.
He was about five-and-forty years of age,
wore a loose gingham jacket, his suspenders
unbuckled for comfort, and his feet were
thrust into green morocco slippers. He
lolled back in his chair quietly smoking his
cigar, as if he enjoyed it, feeling that now
the duties of the day over, and his prisoners
safely locked up, he had a right to make
himself comfortable.
While he was idly watching the smoke of
his cigar idly curl above his head and float
along the ceiling in miniature clouds, an apprentice
entered, bearing beneath his arm a
small package carefully tied up.
`I have brought it, sir,' he said in a mysterious
tone and manner to the keeper.
And as he spoke he laid the parcel down
upon the table with the air of one glad to
get rid of an unpleasant charge.
`Oh, the rope,' said the keeper, as he
glanced at the parcel, one end of which was
open. `Very well, tell your master I will
test the strength of it to-morrow.'
`So it is for a man to be hanged on,' said
the lad, with looks of horror. `I guessed at
it, but master said no. But I knows ropes
ain't used at jails for nothin' else. I hopes,
sir, you'll hang him dead, so his ghost wont
haunt me for bringing the rope'
`I'll take care o' that, my boy,' answered the
keeper laughing, as the boy left the office.
He had hardly composed his countenance
again, and replaced his cigar between his
lips, when the musical cry of the strawberry
girl fell upon his ear at a distance. He
raised his head and bent his ear to listen
with a pleased look. Again it rose upon
the air clearer and sweeter.
`That is well sung and pretty voice. I
must see who it is carols it so well,' he said,
fixing his eyes upon the open street door to
watch her as she passed. `If she be as pretty
as she sings, I' faith, I'll buy her strawberries
if she has a peck o' them.'
The next moment Jennette stopped before
the door.
-- --
CHAPTER XIX.
[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]
`Woman's wit is better for sharp peojects
Than man's cool judgment plodding out its ends.'
The keeper of the prison gazed with surprise
and admiration upon the pretty faee
and modest, cast-down look of the young
strawberry-girl, for the lamp above the door,
as well as the light in the office, shone full
upon her.
`Strawberries, sir? Buy my fresh strawberries,
sir?' said Jennette, with admirable
self-possession; for the more imminent became
the danger of her position, the more
her courage rose.
`Strawberries, eh?' said the keeper.—
`Well, if they are as sweet as the seller, they
will be worth the purchasing. Step in and
let me see thee—I mean thy berries;' and,
turning his chair round, he laid down his
cigar and wiped his lips with his red cotton
handkerchief, preparatory to tasting the delicate
berries. `Step in, step in; don't be
bashful!'
Jennette hesitated, but it was only for an
instant, and then timidly entered the lodge,
and uncovered the basket, while she tried to
keep her features hidden from his bold stare.
`I' faith! they are noble large ones, and
sweet too, withal,' he said, as he placed one
of the largest in his mouth. `How dost sell
them?'
`Ten cents a quart, sir.'
`Beshrew me, that is a round price, but I
dare say the two cents over the market price
goes towards thy pretty face. It an't every
day we see such fine eyes beneath a strawberry-girl's
hood. Look up, and let me see
if thy rosy cheeks are not stained with thine
own berries.'
As he spoke, he would have put his finger
beneath her chin to raise up her face, but she
stepped back laughing, and saying—
`I did not come to bring my cheeks to
market, but my strawberries, sir!'
`Well answered—but thy cheeks would
bring a better market, girl.'
`I have here some flowers, sir. Perhaps
if you like not my berries, these might please
you. They are very pretty, and contain some
rare flowers;' and she coquetishly held up
before his eyes two exquisitely arranged boquets.
`They be handsome.'
`Perhaps your wife or daughter would like
one, sir. Ladies are fond of flowers.'
`You say true, girl. What is the price of
this with the blue flower shaped like a church
bell?'
`That, I will let you have for a shilling.'
`A good sum—but seeing it is you, my
pretty maiden, I will buy it for my wife.—
Now for thy berries; I will take the four
quarts thou hast at eight cents.'
`Not less than ten, sir.'
`If I give thee ten, I must have a kiss,
pretty one.'
`Indeed, sir, I never sold kisses; you will
find them at the confectioner's.'
`Beshrew me, but you know how to be
witty,' responded the keeper, with a laugh.
`I like strawberries, but I cannot pay thee
above nine cents.'
`How do you sell your berries, girl?' asked
a carpenter, stopping at the door, and resting
on his saw as he looked in. `If the keeper
does not buy, I will take what thou hast,
at thine own price—for I am to have a little
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[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]
party at home, to-night, and these will help
greatly to the entertainment.'
`I will take them all, then, at ten cents,
my pretty girl; so go thy ways, Mr. carpenter—
or, if thou would'st spend thy money,
buy the flowers she has tied up, so prettily.'
`Let me see them,' said Hugh, entering
the lodge, and approaching the basket. As
he did so, he managed to pass so near the
keys as to knock them down from the brass
pin on which they were hanging. They fell
to the floor with a lond clash. Quicker than
lightning, while his back was turned towards
the keeper, to whose nose Jennette was closely
holding a boquet, in order to keep him
from seeing, he placed the real bunch in his
box, and standing up, hung upon the nail the
false one.
`Thou art a bungler with thy box, man,'
said the keeper, looking round and seeing
him hanging up the keys. `Go outside of
the door, and home, if thou dost not buy her
flowers, for I have taken her strawberries.'
`I beg your pardon, sir, for my awkwardness,
but nothing broke.'
`It would take hammer and anvil to break
them keys, much less a fall. Go stand in the
door—for I don't allow people I don't know,
to stand about here.'
Hugh stepped towards the door, in which
he stood watching Jennette, as if waiting to
purchase her boquets, when she should come
out. He remarked, with surprise, her perfect
self-possession and admirable tact.
`I have a vinaigrette to sell also, sir,' she
said, holding up before him the fatal little
bottle, with its silver top. `I found it as I
came along. It smells very delightfully;—
will you buy it?'
`Found it?' he said, taking it from her
and looking at it with a covetous eye. `If
you found it, you can't claim it.'
`I will give it to you, sir, if you please. I
do not care for it. Perhaps you may find the
owner, as you know so many more people
than I do.'
`True, very true. I dare say I shall easily
find the owner. It is worth, at the least, five
dollars,' he added, to himself. `How do you
open it?' he asked, trying to unscrew the
stopper.
`Let me show you, sir; there—touch this
very small point, no bigger than the head of
a pin, and it will fly open.'
`Oh yes, I see. Really,' he added, as he
placed it to his nostrils, while Jennette
stepped back a step or two, not to inhale any
portion of the escaping ether; `really, it is
very delicious. It is something like—like,'
here he took another long inhalation—`like
lemon—no—rose—or something be— be—
betw— Dear me! How my head swims!
Where are you, girl? Who has put out the
lights? Catch me; I am fall—'
The keeper could not complete the last
word. Rapidly overcome by the influence
of the subtle fluid, which he had inhaled very
freely, he closed his eyes, the vinaigrette
dropped from his hand, and he fell over in a
state of utter insensibility, into the arms of
Hugh Ogilvie who laid him back in his arm
chair, and, at the same instant, closed the
street door and locked it. Jennette was already
gone—for she had no sooner seen the
effects of the ether begin to exhibit themselves,
than, satisfied her part was done, she
strictly obeyed Gordon's instructions, and
hastened from the lodge.
She had not proceeded twenty steps from
the door, ere Gordon was at her side. He
drew her arm within his, and hurried her
away from the spot, but not before he had
seen the door closed on the inner side.
`Noble Jennette!' he said, pressing her
hand to his heart, `you have performed your
part well. I have watched the whole, from
the opposite side of the street. You tremble
all over. Your courage must not fly away
from you now. What! are you ill? You
hang upon my arm as if you were fainting!'
There was no reply, and her whole weight
fell upon him. He saw that she was become
insensible, and, taking her up in his arms, he
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bore her onward to the coach, which he found
where he had left it.
`Generous creature! She nerved herself
to a task that was too much for her. The reaction
has overwhelmed her,' he said, with
grief.
`No—I am better now, Gordon,' she said,
softly. `I can get in the carriage. It was
only a momentary faintness. I am quite myself
again.'
`Then lose no time in throwing off this
outside disguise, and thus prevent any recognition,
should the keeper recover, our plan
have failed, and pursuit made.'
`Leave me here, and go and see what happens,
Gordon. I will not leave the spot.'
`I will go and learn what passes. I could
not drive home with you in this state of suspense,
touching the result of our efforts.—
Here, if you remain in the coach, you will be
perfectly safe—especially if you divest yourself
without delay of your strawberry-girl's
character.'
`That I will do at once. Hasten, that you
may return soon.'
`Another dollar, coachman, for a quarter
of an hour's more delay,' said Gordon, as he
passed him and hastened away towards the
prison.
`I will wait all night at that price the quarter
of an hour,' answered the man, partly to
himself, partly addressing Jennette through
the window of the coach.
Upon coming in front of the prison, Gordon
found all as yet quiet. The lodge door
was closed, and all was dark within, as the
passengers in the street passed and repassed
without suspicion.
`They suppose he has closed his office
earlier than usual,' mused Gordon. `What
a moment is this to Hugh and to his father!
I wonder what he is doing? how far he is
being successful? I will stand here, within
this nook, and watch the issue. If he fails
not utterly, he must soon be forthcoming.'
Thus speaking, Gordon placed himself
within the shadow of a recess between two
buildings, where, without being observed, he
could mark all that transpired at the prison.
We now return to Hugh. He had no sooner
placed the insensible form of the keeper in
the arm-chair, than, as we have seen, he
closed and locked the door on the inner side.
He then, seeing the cord upon the table, left
there by the apprentice-boy, took it and
bound him to the chair with it, little imagining
that it was the rope selected by the
keeper for his father's neck. Having bound
him fast, he tied a handkerchief firmly across
his mouth, in order to prevent his giving any
alarm, should he recover his consciousness
too soon.
`Now,' he said, as he took up a lantern,
which the keeper used to carry with him to
visit his cells, `now, my dear father, in five
minutes you shall be free.'
He then took the keys, and having marked
well, when formerly conducted to his father's
room, what keys unlocked the intermediate
doors, he now proceeded to avail himself of
his knowledge then gained.
After quitting the office by the rear door,
he found himself upon a gallery, or corridor,
which extended along two of the inner walls
of the prison, twenty feet from the ground
floor of the lower court. He walked at a
quick step along this gallery, until he came
to its extremity—where a locked door barred
his progress. After applying two keys, the
third opened it. He entered, leaving it ajar,
and found himself within a sort of vestibule,
gloomy and narrow, with three passages leading
from it in different directions. He took
the left hand one, and, ascending four steps,
came to an inner door heavily barred and
bolted. This he unlocked with some difficulty
and delay, and, throwing it back, found
that it led him into a wide open hall, on all
sides surrounded by doors that conducted to
the prisoners' cells.
Here he stopped, to recollect which door
led to his father's, for all were so similar he
could not, for the moment, decide. At length
he recollected the number—and, hastening
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forward across the paved hall, which echoed
to his light tread, he applied his key to the
padlock, and, unlocking it, loosened the
massive bar of iron that was secured across it.
The door swung back from its hinges, and
uttering his father's name with a suppressed
cry of joy, Hugh bounded into the cell.—
There was no sound—no response! All was
silence and solitude! He looked with his
lamp hurriedly all round the cell, and, with a
pang of grief and deep disappointment, saw
that it was vacated!
For a moment he stood irresolute and
almost overcome. The cup of happiness
which he thought was in his grasp, had eluded
his hand. Suddenly the thought occurred
to him that his father being condemned so
shortly to be executed, had probably been
removed to the condemned prisoner's cell.
Where this was situated he had no idea. Every
moment of his time was of incalculable
importance. He could not stay to deliberate or
to examine the cells. All at once a prisoner
called to him through the grating over his door
`Ho, Mr. keeper, I am not well; give me
some water.'
`Where is the prisoner who was in the
cell next to you?' asked Hugh quickly.
`What? you are not the keeper. Who
are you?' growled the prisoner.
`A carpenter come to measure him for
his coffin.'
`So he'll be hanged at last, hey? Well,
a gentleman ought to die as well as a rogue,
if he acts like a rogue. He ain't here, but
in the cell at the left of the last turning as
you go through the second door. See that
you give good measure, Master carpenter,
for hanged men must have plenty of room,
for a man stretches ten inches with a rope
about his neck.'
Hugh did not wait to hear the coarse and
brutal laugh with which the hardened wretch
ended his speech, but following his directions
soon came to the door of the cell which he
had designated, and which was situated in
quite another quarter of the prison.
`Fling wide the prison doors! the captive flies,
Like Mercury, with winged feet.'
We will anticipate the arrival of Hugh
Ogilvie, in his father's cell.
The room in which the condemned prissoner
was confined was known as the “condemned
cell.” It was situated at the extremity
of a narrow passage from which it was
cut off by a thick wall. It had no window
save a narrow and thick grated lattice above
the door. The cell was but eight feet square.
Its only furniture a truck bedstead containing
a straw mattrass, a chair without a back,
and a sort of bench which served as a table.
In the centre of the room was a huge iron
ring set into the stone, to which prisoners
were sometimes chained for greater security.
But the ring was now vacated, and Colonel
Ogilvie, was seated upon his cot-bed with his
face buried in his hands, and in deep
thought. A faint lamp which the keeper had
suffered him to keep burning, cast its lurid
glare upon his person. He was a large wellbuilt
man, with a noble person, and the air of
a gentleman. His hair was very grey,
though his age was but eight-and-forty, but
grief and shame had frosted his locks prematurely.
His noble forehead was knitted with
painful thought, and his find features looked
pale and were sad in their expression.
Suddenly the clock in a neighboring
chuch tower tolled eight. He started to his
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feet and two or three times rapidly traversed
the floor of the cell. His countenance expressed
the keenest anguish.
`Lo! The hours fly like eagles to their
prey! It seems but five minutes and less
since that bell tolled seven. I have one less
hour to live! I am one hour nearer my infamous
end! Oh, this is fearful, fearful!' he
cried clasping his hands together. `It is not
death merely I shrink at! The pang is soon
over! But it is its ignominous form. To
be hanged! To be made infamous to all
men! This, in very anticipation maddens
me! And my poor boy! My noble minded
Hugh! How his heart will be torn! I tear
me his proud spirit will not survive the disgrace
entailed upon him! Oh, that unfortunate
night! How little did I anticipate such
evil to follow my efforts to possess myself of
Parchsnip's papers. My motives were good
and honorable and benevolent, but the result
has brought me to the gallows. It is in
vain, I try to reconcile myself to my fate!
Were I alone to suffer I could bear it better!
But my boy suffers with me! My infamy is
his infamy! Hark! what is that? They are
at the door! Have I miscounted my time
and the hours, and are they come to bid me
prepare to die? The locks turns—the iron
bar falls! what can mean this visit at this
hour? Who comes to my cell?' he called
through the grating.
Before he could receive a reply the door
was swung back and Hugh with the lantern
in his hand stood in the opening.
`My dear father!' he cried clasping him
to his boson.
`Is it my son? Oh, joy to meet thee once
more ere I suffer!' cried his father, overwhelmed
with surprise and joy. `How is it
you are permitted to come and see me? And
why this dress—what is—?'
`This is no time to ask or answer questions,
my dear father,' replied Hugh hurriedly.
`I rejoice that I have found you! Follow
me without a word.'
`Whither?'
`To life and freedom! Come, sir.! Press
closely after me. The doors are all open before
us! Now swiftly and silently.'
Without a word more Colonel Ogilvie,
feeling like one in a dream, strode after his
son who took his way straight for the keeper's
lodge. Here Colonel Ogilvie's face showed
his surprised on seeing the keeper bound in
his chair and insensible. But he had no
time to express his amazement, for Hugh
throwing down the keys at his feet set the
lamp upon the table and then carefully unlocking
the street door looked out.
`All is quiet, sir! Now follow me without
uttering a word.'
He opened the door and letting his father
out, was closeing it when he saw the keeper
struggle and heard him groan.
`In good time,' he cried, as he closed the
door and locked it with the key which he
had removed from the inner-side of the lock.
`One moment later and he would have given
the alarm. Across the street, sir! Keep
closely in my steps, my dear father. You
will soon be free! We pass through this alley,
' he added as after crossing the street he
entered the narrow passage between the
houses opposite the prison leading to another
street. The alley was dark and tortuous,
but Hugh taking his father's arm drew him
rapidly forward.
`Am I in a dream? Am I indeed without
the prison!' he asked as they passed around.
`Yes, dear father; in one minute more
you will be in safety. Are you strong
enough to take the saddle?'
`Yes! The hopes of escape will give me
new vigor.'
`At the outlet of this passage we shall find
two horses. One of them is for you, the
other for myself. You will mount and keep
close after me. Do not let any pursuit lead
you to lose sight of me. We must both ride
for life, sir. Here they stand with the faithful
black in charge! Thus far we have
safely come ere alarm given or pursuit is
made.'
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They now emerged from the narrow alley
directly in front of the outlet of which stood
Cæsar holding the two horses. He had
heard them coming through the passage, and
suspecting it might be the party he waited
for, he loosed the bridles and prepared the
horses to be mounted at once.
`Cæsar, the horses quick!' cried Hugh.
`What de word, massa! I hab to hab a
word afore I let's em go.'
`True. It is “The Shallop.”'
`Berry good, massa. I help de old gemman
up while you mount dis one. I am most
overjoyed you get him out ob prison, massa!
Dis rein, massa colonel.'
Hugh was already in the saddle as his father
securing his feet in the sturrups received the
bridle from Cæsar.
`Now forward and keep by my horse's
head!' cried Hugh, as he shook the reins
and pressed his horse onward. Away they
went, father and son at the top speed down
the street, and in a few seconds were out of
sight.
Dat old massa colonel break him neck
ridin' dat horse, so it do him no good to
'scape hangin', ony for de pride ob de ting!
Wall, how de leftenant got him out ob prison
is a berry markable incidence. But dis ant
no place for dis child, sure. Dey find out
afore long de chicken is out ob de coop and
den dis be a berry hot part ob de town for a
strange nigger to be cotch'd in. So I'll just
hasten down to the pier and take de horses
as massa Gordon told me to do. I hope dey
get dere afore any pursuit is—Bress me!
What dat! Prisin bell is going like mad!
and dar springs de watchman's rattles, and
bang and clatter go their clubs on de stones.
Dare is fast getting up a berry general fussation
ober in de next street. Dey found out
de gemman as wos going to be hanged has
'scaped. I'll keep out ob de way sure ob
danger.'
With these resolutions Cæsar began to
make his way towards the harbor by the
street taken by the two horsemen.
Gordon had waited in his covert at the angle
of the building when we left him until he
had the satisfaction of seeing Hugh appear
followed by his father. He lingered only
long enough to see them cross the street
and enter the passage opposite, and then with
a heart leaping for joy he hastened to rejoin
Jennette at the carriage.
`Upon your box at once, and drive whence
you came, and don't spare your whip!' he
cried to the coachman as he sprung into the
hack.
`What news Gordon?' eagerly asked Jennette
who was now in her ordinary attire,
having divested herself of the strawberry-girl's
disguise.
`Most happy! Hugh has succeeded! I
saw him leave the keeper's lodge followed by
his father. By this time they are in the saddle
and on their way to the harbor-side.'
`I am so thankful!' cried the maiden with
joy.
`And we owe all to you, dearest Jennette.
Your judgment and courage have been admirable.
What a treasure I shall have in
you.'
He pressed her hand, and as the carriage
rolled past a light in a window, he saw that
there were tears in her eyes. They were
tears of happiness at being beloved by him.
The coach rattled swiftly onward and as
they were crossing a square that was midway
between the prison and the harbor, Jennette
saw two horsemen riding across it at
full speed.
`See! It must be Colonel Ogilvie and his
son!' she cried, pointing them out to Gordon.
`Without doubt. There they dash down the
narrow lane towards the pier, and are already
out of sight. Fortune favor them but for a
few minutes more. Hugh has done his part
bravely and successfully. How he has succeeded
so soon has surprised me. Hark!'
`It is the ringing of bells!' cried Jennette
with a pale cheek. `Can it mean any
thing.'
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[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]
`It is a fast toll like an alarm. It comes
from the goal. There go the rattles and the
watchmen are ringing their clubs on the
pavements. The alarm is given. I trust
they may reach the shallop in time to elude
pursuit.'
As they drove on Gordon could see the
watchmen running in the contrary direction
to gain intelligence of the cause of the alarm.
He spoke to the coachman to drive at a more
rapid pace; and in three minutes more the
coach wheeled round the corner of the wharf
and went rattling away towards the extremity
of the pier.
`Ho! What is this! Stop! Stop!' shouted
a watchman, endeavoring to arrest the
horses as they went by him. `Stop! The
alarm bell is tolling!' he muttered as the hack
flew onward, `and two men on horses have
just gone past me like lightning, and now
comes this carriage driving as if it was run
away. There is mischief afloat in the city
somewhere, Burbank,' he called out to a
comrade, who came up, `and I shouldn't wonder
if this coach and the horses that galloped
by so like mad with a man on each, had
something to do with it. Let us pursue.'
They sprung their rattles and began running
towards the end of the old wharf.
Already Gordon had arrived there in
the coach, and springing out ere the wheels
ceased revolving, he beheld the shallop with
its sails hoisted at the end of the wharf, by
it two horses and the figures of two or
three men. Without a moment's delay he
took Jennette almost in his arms from the
coach and hurried with her to the boat.
`We are pursued! The town is up!'
he cried. Not a moment's delay, Hugh.'
`My father is on board, and I am casting
off. I hear the fellows running this way.
Go with us.'
`I mean to! Spring on board Jennette.'
`But my father!'
`I am here, daughter. I will go to; for
I may get into trouble if I stay.'
`All aboard! cried Hugh. The horses
will find their way back to their stables.'
`Cæsar is not here.' said Jennette and
Gordon. `He must not be left.'
`Here I am, massa,' answered the negro,
as he appeared suddenly upon the wharf
having got ahead of the pursuing watchmen.
`Shall I take de horses.'
`No. They will take you. Leave them
and spring for your life!'
Cæsar had just time to gain the gunwale
of the shallop by a wide leap when her canvas
caught the breeze and pressed her off
from the shore. Hugh grasped the helm,
and steered her straight away from the pier,
But the shallop had scarcely got under head-way
ere the watchmen were at the end of
the wharf, shouting and talking and making
great to do at finding the horses there without
keepers and the shallop putting off from
the land.
`We have been fortunate in distancing
pursuit, Gordon,' said Hugh. `Those fellows,
although they don't know what has
happened, know something is in the wind
from the uproar of the bells and rattles, and
without being sure we were the authors of
the confusion might have given us trouble.'
`We have been truly successful. We are
safe now, Colonel Ogilvie,' added Gordon,
`let me congratulate you upon your escape,
sir.'
`I can hardly realize it. I seem to be in a
dream. But it must be real. Let me emembrace
you. You and all here I feel have
been one in heart and hand in contributing
to this happiness. You all have my thanks.
My heart swells with gratitude that words
cannot express. All is mystery to me yet.
My son has not had time to give me one
word of explanation. I can only realize that
I am free and among friends.'
`The uproar in the city seems to increase,'
said Captain Alison, who had been waiting
on the pier for the horsemen, and got on
board with the colonel, not with the object of
staying, but merely to congratulate him while
the shallop was getting under weigh.
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`Yes,' answered Gordon, `no doubt every
carriage is stopped and examined, and that
officers are dispersing in all quarters. We
have not been a moment too early. See how
the shallop cuts her way through the water
with this fine breeze. We shall soon be out
of all danger.'
`The pier head is no longer visible,' observed
Hugh. I begin to breathe freely now.
Come, my dear father, sit here and do not
fear pursuit. Let us enjoy this happy hour.'
`Now tell me, my son, how it is my escape
has been effected?' asked Colonel Ogilvie,
with emotion.
`Gordon will tell you, dear father, while I
give my attention to steering the shallop. I
wish to get outside the castle before I give
up the helm.'
Gordon then proceeded to explain to the
colonel the several steps whereby his escape
had been achieved; and in his recital he did
not fail to give full credit to Jennette, `without
whose co-operation,' he said, `we could
never have succeeded.'
`My noble girl,' said the colonel, pressing
her hand in his, `I can never reward you.'
`I am sufficiently repaid, sir,' answered
Jennette, modestly, `by seeing you at liberty.'
`Take horse and to the road.'
While the shallop is flying away from the
town with the fugitives, we will return to the
prison and witness the issue of the events
which have transpired there.
The subtle ether inhaled by the keeper
produced the effect contemplated by Gordon,
as we have seen; but the condition of insensibility
was prolonged fortunately longer than
he intended, so powerful had been the inhalations
of the keeper in his desire to ascertain
what the odor might be. This great
length of the swoon was highly favorable to
Hugh, who was delayed above the time contemplated,
by the necessity of finding the cell
to which his father had been removed.
As Hugh left the office with the colonel,
the keeper began to come to himself. The
symptoms of returning consciousness were
shown in a convulsive, unconscious effort to
throw off the bonds which held him. Then
followed a sense of suffocation, caused by the
handkerchief tied across his mouth. His
full consciousness at length came to him,
and looking about he found himself in darkness.
`Where am I? What is this?' he muttered
through his enveloped lips. `What is
done to me? Bless me, I shouldn't wonder if
I was dead and laid out! What has come
over me? Dear me! my mouth is tied up
just like a dead person's! I wonder if I am
on a table! no I am in my chair. How
dark it is! Those noises are rats! no—they
are the feet of people walking by. I must
be in my office. But bless me, how come I
so! Hillooh! Help! Murder! Come and
help me! Lights! Lights!' he shouted at
the top of his lungs, struggling in vain to free
himself, though he slipped the handkerchief
from his mouth by a great effort. `Help!
Murder! Foul play! Lights and guns!
Mischief is in the wind! Help! help! help!'
he roared like a Bashan bull, each cry louder
than the other; for the poor keeper was
each moment becoming more and more
alarmed.
His cries soon brought his family out from
the dwelling, and caused person to stop at the
street door and try to break it in. But it
was too strong for their efforts. The under
-- 084 --
[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]
keeper first entered in his drawers, with a
candle blazing in one hand, and a pistol in
the other.
`What is it?' he cried, as he ran in.
`I don't know more than you see. I am
tied in my chair, and have been gagged,' answered
the keeper with a ludicrous moan.
`Uunfasten me; but first turn the key and
let them in.'
The under keeper assisted by his wife and
a servant, succeeded in untying the keeper
and letting him free just as the door was
opened and let in a score of people variously
armed, at their head were two watchmen
and a constable.
`What is the matter? who is killed?' they
shouted.
`That I can't say, only it is not me, I find,'
answered the keeper, `though the hollowing
came from my lungs. What o'clock is it?'
`About quarter to nine,' answered two or
three voices.
`Well it ain't an hour since I was sitting
here with the doors open, the lamp alight,
and buying strawberries of a pretty young
Miss, and the next thing, I find myself tied in
my chair here, my mouth gagged, the room
dark, and the street door locked. If any of
you can explain it it is more than I can do.'
`Here is the basket of strawberries upset
in the corner,' cried a constable.
`And here is a bunch of flowers,' called
out another.
`Yes, she had flowers, too, and now I recollect
I was smelling at a little bottle she
said she found, which is the last thing I remember
till I found myself tied in my chair,
and by the very rope Colonel Ogilvie is to be
hanged with. It came in to-night. Now
this is all what I call a mystery, gentlemen.'
`Are all the prisoners safe?' asked a head
constable, who seemed to have his wits about
him. `Be sure this is some trap. Take
your keys and look to the cells. I'll wager
some of them have been out and done this.'
`No doubt! I fear it!' answered the keeper,
with alarm in his face, fearing the conse
quences to himself if any of his prisoners
had flown. Gad zounds! Here are my keys
lying on the floor! I thought I saw them on
the nail!'
`Here is a bunch on the nail,' said the
eager officer.
`Bless my stars! Here are two bunches
as like as two cheeses. I am bewitched!
The devil has been here to-night.'
`Look closely. Is not one bunch a counterfeit
of the other?' said a grey-bearded
watchman.
`You are right. This is the seal bunch.
Some mischief hath been brewing. It is a
mystery to me how I was bound and didn't
know it. Come, gentlemen, I will look at
my prisoners and see if this is their work.'
Thus speaking he left the office accompanied
by two of the officers. He had not
gone to the end of the passage before he
found the door, he was about to unlock, ajar.
He uttered an exclamation of surprise and
alarm, and hastened forward. Door after
door was wide open, and with an exclamation
of despair, he entered the hall surrounded
with cells. All these were shut to his
great relief. But he proceeded to call at
each, to ascertain if any were missing.
`What is the uproar, keeper?' cried the
man who had addressed Hugh through the
grating.
`You are there are you? Why I have
come to see if any of you are out. Somebody
has been wandering about here to-night, for
all the doors are unlocked.'
`I expect it's nobody but the carpenter you
sent to measure the colonel for his coffin. I
bade him make good measure, and long, for
hanged men stretch marvellously.'
`You bade him? who have you seen and
spoken with?' demanded the constable.
`A man who was here half an hour or less
ago. He came to the cell next to mine
which the colonel was taken from, as if
he expected to find him in it; but I directed
him to the felon's condemned cell.'
`Let us hasten thither,' gasped the
-- 085 --
[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]
keeper. `I begin to suspect the worst that can
have happened. See, the door is open to the
cell, and look, the very cell is open!' he
cried as he came to it. `He has escaped!
He is not here! Colonel Ogilvie has escaped!
'
For a moment the distressed keeper stood
staring into the empty cell as if he could not
believe his eyes. He appeared stunned by
the discovery.
`Heaven knows I can't explain this,' he
at length found voice enough to articulate.
`Let the alarm be at once given. It is possible
he may be on the premises. Let strict
search be made. This escape is unaccountable.
'
The prison courts and the passages were
searched in vain, while the alarum bell gave
clamorous notice to the world of the escape
of a prisoner.
In the space of half an hour after the escape
of Colonel Ogilvie, the whole corps of
police was on the alert, every coach stopped,
every vessel was searched, and the bridges
watched. The keeper upon returning into
his office was overcome with rage and confusion
at the escape. In vain he tried to
account for his own condition, bound in a
chair, and insensible. All was mystery to
him.
`Do you recollect what you were last
doing?' asked the High Sheriff, who was on
the spot, and closely questioning him.
`I only recollect that while I was talking
with the young girl about the price of her
strawberries, she handed me a little smelling
bottle. Just then a carpenter with his box
of tools come in, and asked her the price of
the strawberries. As he walked round her I
recollect he knocked the keys off the nail
with his box, which was on his shoulder. But
I saw him pick them up and replace them,
and at the same time I ordered him out of
the door.'
`And instead of putting back the keys he
knocked down,' said the sheriff, `he placed
this counterfeit bunch on the nail, and kept
the real ones, with which he unlocked the
doors and released the prisoner.'
`That must have been it, Mr. Sheriff,' answered
the keeper. `But how could he have
done it and I awake?'
`You was not awake it seems, sir,' answered
the sheriff sternly. `You acknowledge
that you were bound in your chair without
knowing it.'
`That is true, and that is a mystery to me,
sir. I was not asleep, I must have been
struck and rendered insensible. The last
thing I remember I was smelling the bottle
to ascertain what the scent was.'
`And here is the bottle, sir,' said one of
the watchmen. `I just found it in the fire-place.
'
`Let me look at it,' cried the sheriff.
`Now it is my opinion this contains some
soporific which put you to sleep suddenly.
I will test it. Who will smell of it.'
`I will, sir,' answered the keeper. `I
wish, if it is what you suspect, to shew you
that I could not help it. If it puts me to
sleep I shall not be so much blamed. If it
does not I suppose people will say I was drunk.
Give it to me.'
The sheriff placed it in his hand, and he
placed it to his nostrils. After three or four
strong inhalations his eyes closed, his head
sunk upon his breast, and his limbs relaxing
he fell backward wholly inanimate.
The sheriff and those who stood around
watching the effect beheld this result with
amazement.
`It's clear enough now,' said the sheriff as
he satisfied himself that the keeper lay perfectly
unconscious, `it is clear enough now
that this bottle contains some active volatile
essence which produces insensibility. He
says he took it from the strawberry girl.
There is no doubt that she was a party to
the abetting the escape, and this carpenter
another concerned in it. Throw water in
his face and bring him to.'
After some difficulty the keeper was restored
to animation and consciousness.
-- 086 --
[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]
`Did it make me sleep, friends?' he asked
as he gazed around him.
`Yes, you have been as a dead man,' answered
the sheriff. `It is easily explained
now how you happened to suffer yourself to
be bound. The success of this experiment
has saved you from arrest. You have been
the victim of a deep laid plot.'
`Thank Heaven, then, that I am not so
much to be censured,' he answered with
looks of great relief. `The little minx, when
she handed me the bottle, asked me so innocently
to tell her what its odor was, for she
had found it in the street. I see clearly that
it was a plot.
`Let every search and inquiry be made for
this strawberry girl and this carpenter,' said
the sheriff to two of his officials. `Describe
the girl, master keeper.'
`She was as genteel a figure as one would
wish to see any where, about seventeen, with
fine dark eyes, a pretty rosy mouth, and beautiful
brown hair. She was pretty enough for
that matter.'
`Do you think she was a real strawberry girl?'
`She had a basket of strawberries which
you see are here now. She left them basket
and all, and I had not paid her.'
`This confirms my suspicions. Let me
see the basket? It is a regular strawberry
basket indeed, and has had use. But, nevertheless,
it is my opinion from your description,
that this strawberry girl was acting a
part. At any rate she was a party to the
conspiracy. Well, Collins,' cried the sheriff
to the head constable, who then came in,
`any tidings of the fugitive?'
`Nothing certain, sir. I learn that two
men on horseback were seen riding at full
speed down Court street and into Hanover
street, where the watchman says they passed
him at full speed, and the moment afterwards
he heard the alarum bell ring out.'
`This looks sucpicious. Horses may
have been resdy for the prisoner to escape
on,' said the sheriff. `Send mounted men at
once on their track.'
`I have despatched Hayley and Barnes, sir.'
`You have done well. No better men
could have been selected. Where did you
get horses?'
`At the nearest livery stable.'
`We should have a horse police. I have
before this shown the city the necessity of it.
Foot police is almost inefficient.'
`But I have more to add, sir. The two
horsemen had not passed into Hanover street
and more than got out of sight, before a
hackney coach made its appearance from up
Court street, and turning short into Sudbury
street, went down that street at full speed.'
`This is news! The prisoner was either
in the carriage or on one of the horses,' cried
the sheriff. `Which watchman saw the carriage?
'
`Number 18.'
`Did he recognize it?'
`No, sir. But the alarum bell then pealing
out, and hearing the rattle sprung in the
direction of the prison, he suspected the carriage
and gave chase; but finding he had no
chance of coming up with it, he returned to
his post.'
`He should have followed till he came up
with it,' answered the sheriff. `But neither
horses nor coach can get out of the city unobserved,
thanks to our bridge-girdled city.
Send men to every bridge and to the neck.'
`I did this before coming here to report,'
answered the Chief of the Police; `and I instructed
the man who first struck upon their
track to follow it up, despatching a messenger
to me informing me of the direction.'
`You have done everything that could be
done, sir, your promptness does you credit.
We ought soon to hear from one or the other
of the avenues. Here comes a man mounted!
' he exclaimed, as a person rode up at top
speed, and drew rein at the door. `What is
the news, Darby?'
`Neither hack, nor saddle horse, has crossed
Charlestown bridge to-night, the toll-keeper
says. I left orders with him to stop any
that should try to pass.'
-- 087 --
[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]
While he was speaking a second officer
galloped up, his horse foaming with spurring.
`Nothing like coach or mounted men have
left the city by the mill-dam avenue, captain,'
he reported, as he touched his cap to the
Chief of Police.
`Here comes my man that I despatched to
Cambridge and Cragie bridges,' said the Head
of the Police, as a third horseman dashed up
to the door of the prison. `Well what news?'
`Nothing has been seen of hack or coach
of any kind, nor of men on horseback. No
one has passed, even on foot, save those well
known.'
`We have now only to hear from the neck,'
said the sheriff. `Those horsemen and the
coach must have gone somewhere, and must
be traced to their stopping point.'
`The sea is our empire—the deck is our throne.'
Leaving the chief of police and his officers
to follow up their search for the fugitives we
will return to the little shallop. Favored by
a fresh breeze, which blew in a favorable
direction, the light vessel went bounding
away down the harbor like a bird escaped
from its prison. All was joy and congratulation
on board. Each moment separated
them farther and farther from pursuit and
danger. Thirty minutes after leaving the
pier they passed the castle, whose frowning
walls rose high above their heads. They
could hear the sentry's call of `all's well,'
and the tramp of the relief guard as it went
its rounds. When Hugh saw the castle
astern he breathed more freely.
`You are now safe, father,' he said, interrupting
Gordon, who was just completing
to him his narrative of the plan pursued
towards effecting his escape. `We are a
league from the town, and no one will think
of pursuing by water.'
`I feel safe. I am full of gratitude to you
my son, and to Lieutenant Hays and this fair
maiden, and to all who have aided me. I am
just beginning to realize my safety. Having
made up my mind to die it is hard to believe
that I am rescued from the horrible death
which menaced me, and from which there
seemed no reprieve by human means. The
transition from this state of horror to one
of peace and security overwhelms me.'
`The city is quiet,' said the captain.
`We can't hear the bells at this distance,'
said Gordon. I have no doubt the most
vigorous exertions will be made to recover
you, colonel. You are a prisoner of distinction,
and under the peculiar circumstances
every effort will be made to re-capture you.'
`That I well know,' said Hugh, gloomily,
yet resolutely. But whoever re-takes my father
will have to fight for him. But I do not
fear pursuit.'
`I am not disposed, gentlemen,' said Capt.
Alison, who was seated aft upon the taffrail,
while the colonel reclined upon a settee opposite,
for his long imprisonment ending in his
hard ride to the pier had almost overcome
his physical strength. Near the colonel, on
another settee sat Gordon with Jennette by
his side, her hand fondly held in his. Hugh
stood amidst this group at the helm, steering
the shallop, and giving from time to time orders
to the crew. Cæsar seemed to be in
his element, and took charge of the main
sheet prompt to obey the slightest sound of
the young helmsman's voice. Forward were
the old man and two boys who constituted
the remainder of the shallop's crew. The
wind blew fresh, and drove the swiftly sailing
craft along at the rate of eight miles an
hour. As they passed island after island their
-- 088 --
[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]
confidence in their security from pursuit increased.
`I do not apprehend any pursuit now,'
said Gordon in allusion to the remark made
by Hugh, `but it is likely that if they do pursue
it will be by water.'
`They will not suppose carriage or horses
left the city by water,' answered Hugh.
`No; but the watchmen who followed us
to the wharf will of course report that those
who came in the coach and upon the horses
took boat.'
`I did not think of that,' answered Hugh.
Ease off that fore sheet a little. A small
pull upon the main halyards, Cæsar. The
gaft dips a little.' These and other directions
showed Jennette that he feared pursuit still.
She felt alarmed at the thought, for Gordon
was involved in the peril of a rescue. Of
her own danger she did not once think. Her
fears were for the colonel and for her lover.
`Do you think we may be pursued?' she
asked in an under tone, of Gordon. `Lieutenant
Ogilvie seems to look anxious.'
`It is possible, dear Jennette. The watchmen
will of course direct the police how to
follow; for they will not question but that
the party they saw drive down the wharf and
sail away in such a hurry contains in its
number the escaped prisoner. But do not
be alarmed, Jennette. We have so much
the start of all pursuers that we have nothing
to fear.'
`I do not fear for myself, but for Colonel
Ogilvie and for you. I am not thinking of
my own danger.'
`I well know that, noble Jennette. But
we are in safety. Here we are nearly down
as far as Nix's mate. This is full six miles
from the city.'
`What is your future plan? Which course
do you steer after getting outside?' asked
Captain Alison.
`My plan was to sail direct for Nova Scotia
if I had come on board the shallop only with
my father,' answered Hugh. `But I have
no power to take you with me with your
daughter and Lieutenant Hays. Indeed I am
not provisioned for so large an accession, nor
indeed are there accommodations for Miss
Aliion.'
`You can touch at Gloucester, at Cape
Ann, and leave us,' said Gordon. `We can
easily find conveyance back to Boston by the
post coach.'
`That will be the best plan. With this
wind we shall be off Cape Ann by four o'clock
in the morning. I can run into the harbor
and leave you at the first pier in the town and
by sunrise be a league at sea again.'
`I am glad that you can do this, my son,'
answered Colonel Ogilvie; `for I have been
in great distress touching the presence of
these my friends with me. I would rather
have remained in prison than involve them in
my fate should we be overtaken. If it were
possible, Hugh, I could wish you might land
them at some nearer point.'
`I cannot, dear father, unless I leave them
upon one of these barren islands. Cape
Ann is most accessible, the best out of our
course, and but thirty miles from Boston
They can return to the city without suspicion.
'
`I am glad no suspicion can fasten upon
them.'
`It cannot, as we have not been seen in
our proper characters. Jennette was disguised
as a strawberry girl, and, being naturally
pale, was highly rouged, while I was
not seen at all. As to the captain he remained
at home, and only got into the shallop
in the hurry of our departure lest he
should be qnestioned too closely if he remained.
'
`And also to accompany my dear child,'
added the captain, with a smile. `I would
have hardly let her gone alone with you into
this danger.'
`We have now the light abeam, Gordon,'
said Hugh. `We shall soon be dancing on
on the waves of the open sea as free as they.'
`Let me take the helm, Hugh,' said Gordon.
`You must be weary.'
-- 089 --
[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]
`Weary, with my father safe? Oh no.
But you may relieve me for a while, Gordon.
I wish to take your seat and thank Miss Alison
for the part she has taken in this night's
affair. `Never,' he added, as he resigned
the helm to his friend, `never was so much
self-possession shown as Miss Jennette exhibited
during the trying time she was talking
with the keeper. She had the most perfect
command of her countenance and voice, and
conducted her part so bewitchingly that I am
not surprised that the keeper was captivated.
But I think he will take care how he tries to
get up an admiration again for a pretty strawberry
girl. To your courage and presence
of mind, Miss Alison, all our success is owing,
' he added, with grateful enthusiasm.
`For this I am most thankful,' responded
Jennette.
`It makes me proud of my child,' said the
captain, with emotion.
`She is very dear to us all,' said the colonel.
`From this time I shall feel towards
her as a daughter.'
`I should like to know how the keeper
felt when he came to himself!' said Gordon.
`Perhaps your portion was so powerful he
sleeps yet,' said Hugh.
`No, or the alarm would not have been given.'
`True, true.'
`A taut haul on the fore-halyards,' said
Gordon to the old seaman forward. `That
will do. Now haul aft the jib-sheet all it
will bear. We must lay close to the wind
with it from this quarter, now we are laying
our course for Cape Ann.'
`Then we are fairly out of the harbor,'
cried the colonel.
`Yes, father, and are now stretching our
way between the Graves and Nahant for
Gloucester.'
`Then I have reason to pour out my heart
in gratitude to you and heaven. I now feel
that I am in safety.'
`In three days we can reach the British
Provinces, father, where the laws of the
United States cannot reach you.'
`Alas! I shall enjoy liberty and life there,
my friends, it is true; but what do I leave
behind me in my native land? The name
and infamy of a felon! The consciousness
of innocence in heart of the act of my hand
alone can make life endearable. In the sight
of heaven I know that I am acquitted—I
know that the deed I was engaged in when I
unfortunately shot the driver was an honest
and good one.'
`No one doubts it, sir,' answered Captain
Alison, between whom and the colonel there
had been a renewal and revival of their
former acquaintance. `By and by the world
will do you justice. None of your friends
believe you had any other motives than an
honorable purpose in view in stopping the
mail bags. But it is a pity it was done.'
`I regret it now. It would have been
better the young man's fortune should have
been lost to him than that ruin and disgrace
should fall upon me and mine. But I
could not foresee this,' added the colonel,
sighing.
`Where is this base lawyer, sir, whose villany
caused you all the wrong you have sufered?
' asked the captain.
`He is in Boston still, I doubt not, practising
his roguery.'
`But you saved the estates to the young
gentleman?' observed the captain interrogatively.
`Yes, and this is some satisfaction.'
`But he has proved unworthy of all that
has been done for him,' said Hugh, indignantly.
`When he heard that my father was arrested
and thrown into prison, he at once,
without communicating with him, made an
application to the Probate court to have a
change of guardians. And though my father
wrote to him saying that he wished to see
him, he paid no attention to his request, and
eved returned his letter to him.'
`Doubtless a young man proud and selfish,
with but a shallow mind,' said the captain.
`No, on the contrary a young man of fine
intellect,' said the colonel, `though he was
-- 090 --
[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]
proud, but I thought only enough so, till he
cast me off as soon as he thought I had degraded
him. Well, I do not blame him. All
the world did the same. Appearances were
against me.'
`But did he not understand that you incurred
your ruin by an effort in his behalf?'
asked Gordon earnestly.
`No. I did not tell him. I should have
thereby opened to him the charge made by
Parchnip of legitimacy, which would have
been a terrible blow to him. Though not
true it would have preyed upon his mind.'
`And you did not then bring in that plea
in defence at your trial?' cried the captain,
with surprise.
`No. I merely told my council that I
had stopped the mail, to obtain from it a parcel
that involved the ruin of the happiness of
others, that my unfortunate recounter with
the driver was purely accidental. This was
sufficient, for the particulars would not have
a vailed me more.'
`Not unless the court would compel Parchnip
to state on oath that he had put such
a parcel into the mail, and intended to use it
to the injury of the heir; but of course,' added
the captain, `he could not have been
made to do this.'
`No one who has ever known your, sir,'
said Gordon, `doubts your uprightness
of intention, Colonel Ogilvie, in that unhappy
affair. You were not so much tried for
highway robbery (of which nobody believed
you guilty in intention) but for the death of
the coachman.'
`Yes, yes. I know that. Poor fellow. I
would that I could recall that hour. He
would not have fallen had he not turned my
pistol in the struggle upon himself. I did
not fire. The weapon went off in my hands.
But I shall never forget it. His blood is upon
my head.' As he spoke he dropped his face
into his hands, and seemed absorbed in
grief.
`What is the name of this young heir?'
Lieutenant Ogilvie? asked the captain.
`Heber Deforrest. He is now in New
York I believe, for he has left the University
and come into the possession of his large fortune.
'
`He should know that Colonel Ogilvie suffered
all he has done for his sake,' said
the captain warmly. `You should inform him.'
`Not I,' answered Hugh haughtily. When
we meet it shall be as foes.'
`Nay, my son—'
`Nay, my dear father, not one word. Heber
Deforrest and I never meet as friends.'
`I have a great fancy to see this Parchnip,'
said Gornon after a few moments' silence, during
which only the dash of waters about the
low sides of the shallop reached their ears, `I
would like to meet him if only to see what
sort of a complexioned villain he is.'
`We may both one day have this privilege,'
answered Hugh.
`What is that ahead?' cried Colonel Ogilvie
quickly, as a large dark object loomed up
in their course.
`It is a ship. I see it plainly now,' responded
Gordon.
`Keep her away sharp, Gordon,' cried
Hugh. `She is standing right dead against
us.'
`I will clear her,' answered Gordon, as he
put the helm hard up.
The next moment the lofty column of spars
and canvass passed them with a majestic uplifting
of its bows upon the ocean swell, and
the shallop was almost lost in its magnitude
as it flew by. In a few seconds afterwards
the tall ship was lost in the darkness and
distance astern. Jennette had never been
out to sea before. She looked around her
but no land was visible. The great breadth
of the starry skies above her head and the
dark boundless ocean around her filled her
soul with awe, and she held firmly the hand
of Gordon, trembling at her nothingness in
that vastness of space amid which she seemed
to be suspended; for stars were as numerous
in the sea beneath as in the sky above, and all
seemed to be as the firmament about her.
-- --
CHAPTER XXIII.
[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]
`The wind is fair. Swift o'er the sea
Our bark pursues the bucanier.'
The report of the several messengers sent
by the chief of police to the several avenues
which led from the town, led him to suspect
that the prisoner who had made his escape
in such an extraordinary manner was concealed
in the city.
`That is my opinion also,' said the sheriff.
`I shall have the strictest search made,
besides offering a reward of one thousand
dollars for his arrest.'
`To which,' added the keeper, `I will
add five hundred. This sum ought to bring
him out if any one hides him. But who
have we here?'
`It is Collins,' answered the sheriff, as a
man came riding up at full speed, and threw
himself from his horse as if the bearer of important
intelligence. `What now?'
`The carriage has been traced to the —
pier, and also the two horses,' answered the
officer, almost breathless with riding and
eagerness to make known the burden of his
news.
`Well, and from the pier?' quickly demanded
the impatient sheriff.
`At the wharf they embarked in a small
schooner, and sailed swiftly down the harbor.
'
`How do you know this?'
`Two watchmen saw the mounted men
ride at speed down the wharf, followed by a
carriage at full speed. Hearing the alarm
bell at the same moment they suspected
something wrong and hastened after them.
By the time they reached the end of the
wharf, the persons who had rode the horses
had sprung from them and got on board the
shallop, and those who were in the carriage
also got on board, and out of reach.'
`This is strange news. Was the hackman
arrested?' demanded the sheriff.
`Yes, and is in custody. But he declares
he knows nothing about his “fares.” That he
was hired to drive down there by a man with
a female in his charge.'
`He must be examined closely. And the
saddle horses?'
`They prove to belong to the livery stable
in — street.'
`This must be looked into. Now what
say for pursuit, Mr. chief of police.'
`We can pursue in the Revenue Cutter,'
eagerly responded the chief of police. `I
will at once to the Custom-House officer, and
get authority, and meet you at the head of
Central wharf.'
`Let there be no delay. I will ride there
at once with such officials, as I think may be
required. Collins, you should have brought
the watchmen with you.'
`They refused to leave their beat till they
got permission from the captain of the watch.'
`Very well, I will ride round there with
you as we go down and see them. I wish to
get a description of the shallop.'
`They said it was like a fishing schooner,
with two masts.'
`I will see them myself. These fugitives
will have not more than half an hour the start
of us, if the Cutter gets speedily underweigh.
Come, and you Mr. Keeper take care none
of the rest of your prisoners escape. I shall
do my best to bring this one back again.'
`I hope you will, sir.'
`You must also try and overcome your
love for strawberries.'
`I shall hate them like poison, sir, ever after
this.'
`And pretty faces,'
`Shall be my abomination.'
`And smelling bottles,'
`I shall be as much afraid of them as of a
blunderbuss.'
`I hope so. Now, good night. Shut thy
doors, and keep all close,' added the marshal,
as he rode away, followed by several of
his attendants.
`Keep all close? That I will, so that not
a mouse shall get out,' muttered the keeper,
as he locked and doubly locked his doors after
their departure. `This has been an unlucky
night for me. So much for loving
strawberries, and to chat with a pretty face.
I'll reform on this score from this hour, and
-- 092 --
[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]
forswear berries and berry girls, and especially
smelling bottles. The little rogue!
To be playing her pranks upon me with her
demure face. If I ever get her under lock
and key, I'll rate her most roundly. This
comes of being sociable. I may yet get into
trouble by it. The governor may look upon
it with a different eye from what the marshal
does. I fear me I'll be broke for this night's
work if they don't catch him. And he tied
me, too, with the very cord he was to be
hanged with. Well, I pray that I may see
him swinging by it yet. I will go now and
see that each of my rogues are safe. Bring
the light along, Riggs,' he called to the under
keeper, as he left the lodge on his tour
of inspection.
The sheriff and his party, accompanied by
the chief of police, proceeded with all haste
to the quarter of the city where the carriage
had stopped; and from the watchmen obtained
a description, so far as could be given
of an object seen in the obscurity of night,
of the shallop. The hackman could throw
no light upon the persons. He could only
say that he had been hired at such a time, by
such a person, dressed so and so, and in driving
away so fast he had only obeyed orders.
Of the persons on horseback, he knew
nothing and could say nothing.
`The fact is,' said the marshal, as he rode
away by the side of the chief of police, `the
whole has been a deep laid and most successful
plot. Even the very vessel to carry the
prisoner off, was provided by his friends.'
`No doubt the young girl whom the man
brought to the carriage was the strawberry
girl,' said the chief of police.
`This is very clear. But who it was with
her, can't be even gnessed by the hackman's
description. There is no doubt but that the
fellow is innocent of any knowledge of the
object of his fare; for it is not likely in so
important a matter they would take him into
their confidence. We must now see the
owner of the stable, and know to whom he
hired his horses.'
Upon reaching the stable, they learned
from the proprietor that a young gentleman,
whom he had seen but once or twice before,
but whose name he did not know, had ordered
them in the morning to be in readiness at
seven in the evening.
`And did he come for them himself?'
`No; he sent a negro servant who took
them away by his order. I was not in at the
time; and they were delivered by the hostler
as I gave him instructions to do when they
should be sent for.'
`And you have no idea who the person
was?'
`None in the least.'
`Where is your hostler?' asked the chief
of police.
`He is at hand. Peter, come here.'
`Yiss, massa.'
`Do you know the person you delivered
the two saddle horses to, to-night?' questioned
the marshal.
`Don't know him, massa. I ony knows
he berry imperent and sassy nigger.'
`Did you never see him before?'
`Nebber, massa.'
`And you did not see the negro, sir?'
asked the chief of police of the proprietor.
`No, as I was out.'
`Will you describe the gentleman?' asked
the marshal.
`He was four or five and twenty, tall,
with a military air, half-whiskers, a clear,
bold, blue eye, and fine teeth. He is altogether
a gentleman in appearance and language.
'
`Should you know him if you should see
him again?'
`I think I should, sir.'
`Very well; I may see you again. Good
night. Come, gentlemen, let us to the harbor
side, we have delayed full long. By this
time, the Cutter will be in readiness for the
pursuit.'
Thus saying, the chief of police, the marshal
and the rest of the party, hastened forward.
Upon the wharf, they met the collector,
who not only cheerfully gave them
the use of the cutter, but offered to go with
them. Upon reaching the end of the pier,
off against which the armed schooner lay,
they could already hear the hearty `heave-hoyeo'
of the seamen on board of her, as they
hove away at her anchor.
`I despatched a person to get underweigh,
marshal, before I myself left home,' said the
collector; `so that there might be no delay.
Here comes her boat to take us on board.'
While he spoke, a gig with four oars pulled
in to the stairs, and an officer in the sternsheets
rising up, hailed—
`Who waits there?'
`The collector.'
`Aye, aye, all right, sir. Just step into
the boat as we back her up.'
The next moment the marshal, the chief
of police and four officers basides the
-- 093 --
[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]
collector himself were seated in the gig and on their
way out to the schooner, which with her fore
top-sail loosed, and her main-sail set, was
waiting for them.'
`This is a very extraordinary affair, sir,'
said the collector. `I could scarcely credit
it when I heard it. Have you any idea who
assisted Colonel Ogilvie?'
`Not the least. The whole scrape was admirably
managed. A young girl under the
disguise of seeling strawberries to the keeper,
managed to place in his hands a smelling
bottle containing ether, which, upon his inhaling
it, made him insensible. The keys
were then taken by some man said to be a
carpenter, who unlocked the prison doors.
Before the keeper was restored to himself
again, the bird had flown. We are satisfied
that we have traced him and his abettors to
the end of — wharf, where they embarked
an hour ago in a shallop. Doubtless they
have taken advantage of this leading wind to
put out of the harbor.'
`No doubt they intend escaping to the
Provinces, or to Bermuda, where they will
be safe,' said the collector. `Doctor Convers
the forger escaped in this way eight years
ago; and when Bellinger the highwayman
was re-captured, he was overtaken being in
a fishing boat with one sail and a broken oar,
but ten leagues this side of Halifax.'
`It is probable then, that this shallop will
make for the British Possessions,' answered
the chief of police. `But here we are on
board,' he added, as the gig pulled up along
side the rakish looking schooner, the tall,
slender masts of which seemed to hang far
over her stern. As they reached the deck,
the officer in command gave the order to
sheet home the top-sails, and set the jib and
fore-sail, while the anchor which had been
sometime apeak was rapidly suspended from
the bows.
The cutter was under full sail in less than
two minutes after the party had boarded her
and gathering momentum each instant, she
soon went bowling along down the harbor
with a bone in her teeth. The city, with its
dark, faint outline of roofs, towers and domes
fast faded into the indistinctness of the surrounding
night. Before them, towered the
walls of the castle which was swiftly passed,
and seaward like a hawk swooping towards
its prey, the warlike little cutter went flying
along at the rate of nearly ten miles an hour.
`You understand your instructions, I believe,
captain,' said the marshal, as he took
his place by the side of the commander, who
with his glass at his eye, was constantly
sweeping the water on one side of him, while
his quarter-master with another spy-glass was
closely scanning the other side.
`Yes, sir. You are in chase of a prisoner
supposed to have escaped in a two-masted
fishing shallop. If she has gone down the
harbor, though she has an hour and a half
the start, I pledge myself to fall in with her
before morning.'
`But she may have taken the south channel
towards Bermuda,' said the collector.—
`And if we take the eastern one we shall
miss her. This will be our disadvantage.'
`A small shallop is more likely to take
the course towards the Provinces,' answered
the captain. `She will hardly venture out to
sea far. Moreover the flood tide is coming
in through the south channel so strong she
would hardly take it when in running northward
the tide would help her rather than retard.
I shall, however, decide when I get
at the point where the two passages depart
from each other.'
`Is your vessel doing your best, sir?' inquired
the marshal.
`Ten knots, sir. No other vessel could
get nine out of this wind. No shallop can
sail eight. I shall be sure to come up with
her on one course or the other by sun rise.
If standing three or four hours eastward does
not show her ahead, I shall stretch away
south after and shall be sure to find her.'
`Sail ahead!' shouted the look out forward.
`I see it. It is a large ship coming in by
the east channel. I will hail her and see if
she can give me any information of the shallop.
'
-- --
CHAPTER XXIV. `We are pursued! Our refuge is in flight. '
[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]
The ship which had been discovered ahead
of the cutter now came near, and the captain
of the latter, seizing his trumpet, sprang into
the rigging and hailed.
`Ship ahoy!'
`Aye, aye,' responded from the deck, in a
clear, hearty tone.
`Have you seen any thing of a small
schooner—a fishing shallop, going seaward?'
`Not two miles astern. She passed us
near the Graves, under press of sail, steering
North East.'
`Thank you, thank you,' answered the
captain—and the next moment the ship and
cutter were separated by a wide distance.—
`Now, gentlemen, I think we are on the track
of the fugitives. What do you say?'
`There is no question of it,' answered the
marshal, with animation.
All was now excitement on board the cutter,
and nearly every body was on the watch,
in order to get sight of the shallop, which, all
were satisfied, could not be far ahead—at the
least, not more than half a league.
Soon after speaking the ship, the cutter
bore up and stretched away towards the East
and North, and soon afterwards the roar of
the breakers upon the Graves, a ledge of
rocks forming the outmost boundary of Boston
harbor, distinctly reached their ears.
`How far can you see a vessel in the
night?' asked the marshal of the captain, as
the open sea lay before them, and its waves
began to rock the cutter.
`About a mile, with the glass, such a clear
night as this; but so small an object as this
shallop is likely to be, will hardly be made
out till we are within half a mile of her. If
she steers for the Provinces, she will lay her
course about E. N. E., and I shall now keep
away a little, to make as much easting as she
is likely to do. In another hour we shall be
likely to see something of her. Keep your
eyes open men, there aloft, and on the bows.'
The cutter now went dashing on at a fleet
pace, like a high mettled courser, inspired by
the chase, and the hopes of the pursuers were
raised to the highest expectations. The collector
was the only one who seemed to want
faith.
`We may be pursuing a phantom, or about
to frighten some honest fisherman,' he said,
as he walked up and down the deck. `I do
not think there is proof enough to show that
Colonel Ogilvie is in the shallop which passed
the ship we spoke. No one saw the faces,
or persons even, of those who left the coach
and their saddles, and embarked.'
`But I have curiosity,' said the marshal,
`to know who did embark in such hot haste.
If not Colonel Ogilvie and his friends, it was
no doubt some other criminal, whom it becomes
me to overtake and arrest. But for
my part, I am satisfied that our prisoner is in
the shallop.'
`And if he is taken?' remarked the collector.
`If he is taken he will be hanged, as condemned
to be. We can't do any thing worse
to him.'
`Do you really believe, Mr. Marshal, that
he intended to rob the mail? a man of his
wealth and position in society?'
`It does not seem plausible; still, as it was
proved that he did cut open the bags, and
take out a package, and also wounded the
driver to the death, his sentence is a just one.'
`It is a great pity, for I knew and esteemed
him. He seemed to me to be the very
soul of honor. Had I my wish, I tell you
bluntly I would rather, now he is well off,
that he would escape than be hanged. He
has a son in the navy whom it would disgrace
were his father to be hanged.'
`A son in the navy? Yes, I recollect,
now, hearing of him. Where is he?'
-- 095 --
[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]
`I saw him not ten days ago, in State
street.'
`Then I see who is at the bottom of this
escape!' cried the marshal. `And this accounts
for the flight by water. If we do not
find his son in command of the shallop, then
I will let the prisoner go scott free, should
we take them. What do you see, sir?' asked
the marshal, eagerly, of the captain, who was
looking with unusual earnestness through his
glass, at some object about four points off the
larboard bow, to windward.
`I think I have him now,' murmured the
captain. `Look this way, quarter-master,
and see what your glass makes out.'
`It is a small schooner, sir, without doubt.
But it is too far in shore for the chase,' answered
the quarter-master.
`She may be making for Cape Ann first—
and, in that case, this is just where we should
look for her,' responded the captain. `Luff
a little, and haul aft the fore and main sheets
there, Mr. Waldron,' he called to his lieutenant.
`Pull or two to the topsail braces.
That will do. We must lay dead to windward,
to cut her off. Now, my fine fellow,'
added the captain, as he saw his vessel bounding
away to windward, and tossing the spray
over her deck like snow, `we shall soon make
out your metal.'
`She is luffing, too, sir,' quickly cried the
quarter-master. `She discovers that we pursue
her.'
`This looks like guilt, Mr. Collector,' remarked
the chief of Police, rubbing his hands
at the prospect of soon grasping his prey.
`Yes, he is braced up and standing as
close into the wind's eye as he can put his
beak. But we'll be sure to overhaul him, or
bring him to with a shot.'
`Why, is he likely to escape us?' asked
the marshal, earnestly.
`Not he! But it is a hard chase, dead to
windward—and the shallop will, no doubt,
lay a point nigher the wind than we can,
he is so much lighter and smaller. This will
give him a great advantage. But I can
bring him to his bearings with a six pound
shot.'
`I see her now, distinctly, with the naked
eye,' said the collector. `It is plainly a
small two-masted vessel.'
`Had you not better get a gun ready, captain?
' This inquiry was made by the chief
of police, whose excitement seemed each
moment to increase, and who appeared to be
very solicitous lest the shallop should, in
some mysterious way, give them the slip.
`Mr. Waldron, have the larboard bow gun
ready to be fired.'
`Shall I shot it, sir?'
`No, not the first time. But I fancy one
gun will be sufficient for him. Stand ready
to fire at the order.'
`Aye, aye, sir!' answered the lieutenant,
going forward to get the gun in readiness to
be discharged.
We will now return to the shallop. Gordon,
who had been sometime at the helm,
was just about to resign it to Hugh, the rest
of the party being reposing about the deck,
asleep—Jennette with her head upon her
father's arm, when, as he cast his eyes astern
to leward, he discovered a sail.
`It would be strange enough, Hugh, if we
were pursued,' he said, in the tone of one
who felt no apprehension upon the subject.
`Let me see what this is. Keep the helm
till I look through my glass. We have not
seen her before, and she has gained on us,
whether in chase or not. I have little fear
of pursuit—still, one can't be too cautious.'
With these words he went below, and returned
with his spy-glass, which he levelled
at the strange sail. After examining it a moment,
he exclaimed with surprise and alarm,
`It is a Revenue Cutter!'
`A Cutter? Then she is out after us!'
`There is no doubt of it. I saw the cutter
at anchor off the town as we run out;—
and, be assured, she has been got under
weigh and sent in chase of us!'
This expression of his opinion roused the
colonel from the sleep into which he had fallen
under his sense of security, and also started
the captain and his daughter from their
repose.
`Chased, do you say?' exclaimed all three
in a breath, as they gathered around Hugh.
`I cannot say,' answered Gordon, `but it
is a revenue cutter, or small armed schooner.'
`Is there danger, Gordon?' whispered
Jennette, laying her hand upon her lover's
arm.
`Do not fear—I will protect you with my
life. It may not be any one in pursuit, after
all. She steers too far east for us.'
`She is luffing, and stands this way,' exclaimed
Hugh. `There is now no further
doubt of her intentions. She has discovered
us, and is beating to windward, after us!'
`This is bad news, sir,' said captain Alison
to colonel Ogilvie. `I had hoped you
were out of danger.'
-- 096 --
[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]
`We must do our best,' cried Hugh, with
energy. `We are right opposite Salem, and
can run for the shore. It is our only course.
In some of the creeks in the main, we can secrete
ourselves till it will be safe to put to sea
again. Haul aft the fore and main sheets—
we must hug the wind as closely as possible.'
As he spoke, he brought the shallop up into
the wind, and directed her course for the
nearest land which the direction of the wind
would enable him to reach. There was not
a word spoken for some time. Every eye
was bent upon the schooner, which could be
distinctly made out, less than a mile to leeward.
`We have the advantage of her in being to
windward,' said Gordon.
`Yes, unless she fires.'
`And till she fires,' said Captain Alison,
`I can hardly believe she is in chase of us,—
It seems almost incredible that we should
have been followed so promptly, and our
track dogged so certainly.'
Scarcely had he spoken, ere the sea, in the
direction of the schooner, was lighted up by
a bright flash, and, the next instant, an instant
of painful suspense to all on board the
shallop, the dull, booming sound of a gun fell
upon their ears.
`There is no mistaking her character and
business now,' said the colonel. `I am sorry
that my fate involves yours, my friends. You
had best heave to at once, and let me be given
up, rather than incur the danger to which
you are exposed by this firing.'
`No, no, father—we can save you,' cried
Hugh.
`We willingly share your peril, sir,' said
Gordon. `And Jennette—'
`And do not think of me. I am as ready
as any of you to incur peril,' she answered,
firmly, `so that we can save Colonel Ogilvie.'
`And if we give you up, sir, it will be giving
ourselves up too, colonel, as abettors in
your escape. Our safety is bound up with
your own—and we shall yet escape her. The
little shallop is fairly flying.'
`If they do not load with shot, I shall not
care how long they fire,' said Captain Alison.
`But the next will be shotted.'
`And there it is,' cried Hugh and Gordon,
in the same breath.
A second bright flash from the schooner,
which revealed to them her elegant proportions
with the vividness of noon-day, flashed
upon their eyes, and then a sharp, dashing
noise in the water, just astern of them,
showed that ball had been fired. The splash
of the shot was followed by the deep voice of
the cannon.
`That was shotted,' said Hugh, in a low
tone. `Lie close to the deck, every one of
you. It will be a good gunner that hits us,
but it is best you should all be unexposed as
much as possible.'
The shallop now went bounding on, as if
inspired by fear. Anxiously did Gordon and
his friend watch the dark line of coast towards
which they were stretching. Two lighthouses,
near each other, showed them the
headlands of the port of Salem, but at least a
league and a half distant.
`We gain on the land fast,' said Gordon.—
`Each moment the outline becomes more and
more distinct. If,' he added, in an under
tone, `if a shot does not strike us and disable
us, we shall reach the shore in half an hour.'
`Heaven grant it! Before my father shall
be re-taken, I will sink the shallop! At least
if this young girl and the rest were not on
board. But my father must not be re-taken,
Gordon!'
`No. There comes another shot. This
was a closer one. If they improve this way
they will hit us. Have you a small boat?'
`Yes—there it is, midships. It will hold
us all, if we have to take to it at last.'
`Which we must do, if they hit us.'
Hardly were the words out of his mouth,
when a flash and report were followed by a
terrific crashing through the shallop, forward.
`The shot has struck us, and we are sinking!
' said the old seaman, running aft.
-- --
CHAPTER XXV.
[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]
`Now comes our tale to better ending,
Than the events foreboded.'
`The boat!' cried Gordon, as he heard the
sea rushing into the vessel; `let us seek safety
in the boat.'
As he spoke he caught up Jennette and
placing her in her father's arms hastened to
assist in launching it.
`We must be speedy!' said Hugh, who
had hastened forward on hearing the outcry
made by the old seaman. `The shot has
knocked a hole in her large enough for a man
to enter, and the waves are rushing like a
cataract into the hold. Our only hope of
safety lies in the boat.'
In less than a minute and a half from the
time the shot struck the shallop between
wind and water and stove her bows, they had
launched this yawl, placed oars in it and
brought it under the gangway. Jennette was
first placed in it by Gordon, who then assisted
her father and Colonel Ogilvie out of the
sinking vessel. Hugh saw his men in and
then heaving the vessel to, he lashed the helm
and last of all sprung after them, though
Cæsar the negro would have been last to cast
off.
`She will go down in less than ten minutes,
sir,' said the old seaman as he took the bow
oar.
`Give way and let us make as wide a distance
between her and the boat as we can,
before the schooner comes up.'
`And she is rapidly approaching!' said
Captain Alison. `She is not more than half
a mile to windward.'
`She will ceased firing as soon as she discovers
that the shallop is hove to, and this
will assist us in escaping,' said Gordon.
`That was my object in lashing her helm
down. Now give way men hearty and
strong,' he added to the four oarsmen. We
shall reach the main-land in an hour with
steady rowing.'
`One thing is certain, we escape the
schooner by taking to the boat,' said Colonel
Ogilvie. `But I am pained that I should be
the cause of exposing you all to such discomforts
and dangers, especially this fair young
girl.'
`Do not think of me, sir! I would cheerfully
endure greater risks to secure your
safety, sir,' answered Jennette earnestly.
Hugh had the helm, and while he steered
the boat landward, he kept his eyes wondering
back to the shallop and the schooner.
`The cutter has tacked again and beats
rapidly up to the shallop,' he said. `She has
discovered that she is hove to and has ceased
firing.'
`The shallop still swims,' said Gordon.
`Yes, she may fill only to her gunwales
and then float. They will be disappointed
when they board her, to find that their prey
has escape. Pull strong and steady, men.
Every moment is of value, for it is possible
that they may discover even this boat, especially
should they throw up a rocket.'
`She has hove to! That last shot brought
them to their senses,' cried the captain of
the cutter, as with his glass he saw the
shallop come up into the wind and become
stationary.
`I thought it surprising,' remarked the
marshal with exultation, `that they should
dare to keep on under such a fire of shot!
But we have them now.'
-- 098 --
[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]
`Ready about!' cried the captain. `We
shall fetch her on the other tack.'
The schooner now rapidly beat to windward,
and soon came abeam of the shallop,
which still floated head to the wind. The
captain sailed within fifty yards of it and
then hailed:
`Ho, the shallop.'
There was no reply.
`They must be all killed!' said the chief
of the police.
`The shallop ahoy!' repeated the captain
in a loud and angry tone. `Send your boat
aboard or I'll sink you.
`See! What is that! How she rocks!'
exclaimed the marshal.
`She seems to be leaping into the air!'
cried the collector. `What can it mean?'
`That is what it means,' answered the
captain of the cutter. `She has gone down
all standing.'
There was a general cry of surprise as
they beheld the shallop after a heavy plunge
and wide roll or two, descend slowly into the
deep and disappear from their eyes.
`Out with the boats and save all who float,'
cried the lieutenant.
`She has been struck and sunk by our
shot!' said the captain, `Give way men and
look carefully round and see if you can find
any body to pick up.'
`But nothing but spars and a keg or two
were visible on the surface of the sea. The
boats were re-called to the cutter and a counsel
at once held on deck touching this unlooked
for issue.
`There is little doubt but that a shot from
our guns sunk her, for here is a fresh splinter
from a bottom plank, we have picked up,'
said the lieutenant.
`But there is not so much certainty that
her crew went down with her,' said the captain,
`How could they have escape?' asked the
collector.
`In a boat. The fact that we found her
lying to when we come up, leads me to believe
that she was deserted as soon as she was
hit.'
`This is likely,' cried the marshal and
chief of police in the same breath.
`Do you see anything in shore, quarter-master?
' asked the collector seeing him looking
intently towards the main-land with his
glass at his eye.
`I see nothing yet, sir. I am trying to
make out if any thing is between us and the
land! But it is most too dark to distinguish
so small an object as a boat.'
`Fill away and stand on!' cried the captain.
`I see them.'
`Where?'
`Just in our course close-hauled. We
shall come up with them without fail.'
But the captain of the cutter was doomed
to be disappointed. The object he had detected
with his glass proved to be a sunken
rock. After beating about the coast, and
approaching as near as he dared, until sunrise,
and then discovering nothing of any
boat with his glass, he gave orders to put
away and sail back to Boston.
`Without doubt, they all went down with
the shallop.' said the marshal, as the cutter
began to retrace her course south and westwardly,
`I should think so, if she had not been
laying to,' answered the captain. My opinion
is that as soon as they found her sinking
they hove her to, to stop our firing and then
took to their boat. It is my belief that they
are now snugly concealed somewhere on the
shore.'
`If I thought so, I would have landed
then!' said the marshal. `But as soon as
we reach Boston, I will have the alarm given
down the coast and if he escaped drowning,
he will yet not escape hanging.'
The fugitive in the meanwhile having
rowed without intermission, reached the mouth
of Salem harbor an hour before day. Hugh,
to whom the coast was well known, steered
directly between the capes and keeping
along the banks at day-light, touched the
land half a mile below the town. Here they
drew up their boat in a secluded inlet and
landing, ascended to and entered an unoccupied
fisherman's cabin. From an eminence
near it, Gordon reported the rchooner just
disappearing in the southern board.
`Now, that we are in no danger from the
cutter, we must guard ourselves against the
risks we run by being on shore,' said Hugh.
`I have been talking with Blunt here, my
old seaman who is a native of Marblehead.
He says that if my father will disguise himself
as a fisherman, and let his beard grow he
will take him in the boat to his own native
cabin, which is in a solitary spot near the
beach, where he will be secure from all danger
of arrest. I shall accompany my father
similarly disguised, for I shall not leave him
till he is safely out of the county. We
start in half an hour, soon as we refresh
-- 099 --
[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]
ourselves with these provisions I threw into the
boat! As for you, my dear Gordon, and your
friends, I would recommend you to return to
Boston, by the first stage. You will not be
suspected. No one has seen to recognize
you. You will be perfectly secure.'
`I have no fears for myself. No one
knows or suspects the part which Jennette
and I have had in the escape of your father,
and had not circumstances compelled us hurriedly
to embark as we did, I should not
have left the city, Your plan, so far as securing
Colonel Ogilvie's safety, is a good one.
Blunt seems to be faithful!'
`He is to be trusted,' answered Hugh.
They then seated themselves around their
rude breakfast, which was placed upon a
flat stone in front of the hut, as a substitute
for a table. After they had finished their meal,
Hugh and his father took a grateful leave of
their friends, and then embarked with the
faithful Cæsar in the boat for the solitary
cabin of the fisherman, two leagues up the
coast. When they had rowed out of sight
behind a projecting rock, Gordon turned to
Captain Alison and Jennette.
`We are now ourselves out of danger, and
Colonel Ogilvie's safety is no doubt secured.
He will be safe where he is going. Upon the
least alarm he can take to his boat and go
out from the land as if for fish, keeping beyond
recognition and danger.'
`I feel a great load off my mind,' said Captain
Alison. `We can't have been suspected!
No one who sees us now would suspect
us, for the colonel is not with us in company
to commit us. Jennette, I breathe again;
for ever since we were first chased by their
cutter I have been imagining you confined
in a prison. But now we are all safe.'
`Our first course will be to proceed to the
town and obtain a conveyance to Boston,'
said Gordon.
The same evening the post coach, in which
they took passage, stopped with the party of
three persons at the toll gate of Charlestown
bridge, where they alighted; and thence, in
order not to be followed or recognized, they
walked to the residence of Gordon, where
Jeannette and her father gladly found a
refuge, after the exciting events of the two
past days.
The next day Gordon was privately married
to Jennette, with the full approval of
his sister Isabel, who had not been long in
the society of the lovely sewing-girl, before
she became fondly attached to her. Isabel
said nothing to her brother about the escape
of Colonel Ogilvie, of which she had heard
through the public prints, but she was well
aware that her brother had been engaged in
it; and she half guessed that Jennette, now
his sweet bride, had performed the part of
the strawberry-girl.
The fourth day after the return of Gordon,
being alone with his sister, asked her if she
still ebjected to Hugh, now that his father
had escaped.
`He is not less infamous, Gordon,' she
answered. `All the world are talking of his
escape, and his guilt has been, as it were,
doubly sealed by it. Indeed, it will hardly
be safe for Hugh to come to Boston again.'
`But he can live abroad.'
`No, no! I love him—I would gladly become
his wife—but I cannot, I cannot sacrifice
myself.'
While she was speaking the street bell
rung and a person came to the door and left
a note, to the following purport.
Sir:—Call and see me, I am dying, and
have a secret of importanc to communicate
to you.
Parchnip.
Attorney, No. — street.
To Gordon Hays, Esq.
Gordon believing this evil man was about
to reveal something in favor of his victim,
Colonel Ogilvie, hastened to obey this extraordinary
summons. He found the lawyer
near his end, having been knocked down and
severely crushed, that morning, by a loaded
dray. There were two gentlemen in the
room when Gordon entered, one of whom he
recognized to be the Judge who had sentenced
Colonel Ogilvie.
`Glad you have come,' said the attorney
looking at Gordon with glassy eyes; `you see
me dying! Sent for you, knew you friend to
Colonel Ogilvie. Don't know whether he is
alive or dead. Hope he lives. Sent for you
and these gentlemen!—Driver of coach
didn't die. Bribed the landlord and doctor
to report him dead. Buried an empty coffin.
Driver to be found at No.— Street,
Baltimore. Send for him. Prove it. Colonel
Ogilvie was right in trying to get the
papers. They would have ruined his word—
bound in honor to protect him. Papers
forged. Colonel Ogilvie innocent. No murder
done. Ought to be pardoned for stopping
mail. An honorable man. That's all
I have to say. Couldn't die without telling
-- 100 --
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all! Hope the Colonel's alive. If not it'll
do his son good to know this. These gentlemen
are witnesses to what I say. I've
done. Doctor tells me I shall be dead in an
hour! Die happier for making clean breast.
This is my true deposition, so help me
Heaven!'
The amazement of those present and the
joy of Gordon may be conceived. The attorney
died that night. An officer was despatched
to Baltimore and in six days returned
with the driver so long supposed dead,
but who had been kept out of the way by
Parchnip's bribes. The landlord of the tavern
was also arrested where the driver was
supposed to have died. The fact of his existence
being fully established and the substance
of Parchnip's confession having been
made known to the Governor he proclaimed
a full pardon to Colonel Ogilvie.
Gordon was the happy bearer of this intelligence
to the fisherman's cabin by the
sea-side; and the next day after receiving
the joyful news, Colonel Ogilvie and Hugh
were inmates of Gordon's house in Summer
Street. It would be difficult to decide which
was the happiest at this propitious issue of
events, Hugh or Isabel. She no longer re
fused him her hand, and so in one week
there were two weddings at Gordon's happy
mansion; while Colonel Ogilvie restored
to his good name and fortune, blessed in
prosperity those who had been such firm
friends to him in adversity. Old Captain
Alison was rejuvenized, and lame as he was,
threw away his crutch and danced at Isabel's
wedding like a jolly young sailor of
one and twenty.
`What a contrast this scene and time;
Jennette,' he said with tears glistening in
his eyes, as he drew near his daughter's side,
during the bridal evening, `to the time three
weeks ago, when we knew not where we
should get the next piece of bread. But I
recollect you told me then that one should
never doubt the goodness of Providence.'
`And you never will again I know, dear
father.'
`Never, my child. If we had not been so
poor, Cæsar would not have come to visit and
aid us, and so Lieutenant Hays, your noble
young husband, would not have found us out;
and all these happy things would not have
come to pass. Even after this, I shall remember
that the darkest hour is just before
day.'
THE END.
