TAKES A PEEP AT SOME FRIENDS OF THE READER.
For a brief space, now, in order to connect more closely the events of
this narrative, we will leave Sweeney Todd to the perils and chances of
the disabled ship, and the storm in the Channel, while we conduct the
reader to the society of other persons, in whom it is to be presumed we
are largely interested.
In the most cheerful room of one of the prettiest houses at Brighton,
facing the beach upon the Esplanade, which is unrivalled, was a rather
select party.
That party consisted of old and well-tried friends of the reader, and
when we announce of whom it was composed, it will be seen that their
society is decidedly good.
First of all, there was Ben the beef-eater. Poor Ben had never before
been at a sea-coast town, and everything was consequently to him new and
strange. Yet he felt amazingly happy, because he was surrounded by those
whom he loved with all his heart; and if he had now and then a wandering
thought, it was to the animals in the Tower, to whom he was accustomed,
and who, no doubt, missed Ben quite as much, if not more, than he missed
them.
Then there was Tobias. Yes, Tobias was there, looking so fresh and so
well, notwithstanding that he knew Sweeney Todd was at large, that it
was quite a congratulation for those who felt that they were his friends
to see him. The rest of the party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Ingestrie,
and Colonel Jeffrey and his young bride, and Mr. and Mrs. Oakley, so
that there was really quite an assemblage in that room.
The colonel holds a letter in his hands, and is speaking, while all eyes
are turned upon him.
"Yes," said the colonel, "this letter is from Sir Richard Blunt, and I
will read it to you, if you will be so good as to listen to it."
"Oh, yes--yes," said everybody.
"Very well. Here it is, then."
Upon this, the colonel read as follows:--
"Craven Street, London.
"MY DEAR COLONEL,--No news of Todd. We are sparing neither pains nor
expense in tracking him; and it is an absolute impossibility that he
should escape us long. Accident, I am convinced, much more than any
design or luck upon his part, has had the effect as yet of keeping
him out of our hands. But I do not think that it would be very
difficult to count the time, in hours, between this and the period
when he must be dead or a prisoner.
"I hope that all our dear friends with you are quite well, and that
they will banish from their minds all fear of the revenge of Todd.
Nothing is more improbable than that he should dream of finding his
way to the obscure little village where you are. I hope all of you
are benefiting much by the health-giving breezes of the ocean.
"With kind regard to all, I am, my dear colonel,
"Yours very truly,
"RICHARD BLUNT."
"Still at large!" said Mark Ingestrie, upon the conclusion of the
letter. "So the rascal is still at large?"
"Yes," said the colonel; "but you hear what the magistrate says, that he
will soon have him."
"Yes, but that is rather a hope than a certainty."
Tobias changed colour, and Johanna turned to him, saying, in a kind
tone--
"Nay, now, Tobias, you have nothing to fear from Todd. Did you not hear
what the letter said upon that point?"
"Yes oh, yes!" replied Tobias. "I will fear nothing while you are all so
good to me."
"I tell's you what it is," said Ben. "That 'ere fellow is for all the
world just like one of the wild beastesses as declines being tamed. We
had one once as got away one night, and he swam over the river, you
see."
"And did you catch him?" said Tobias.
"After a time, yes. Easy did it."
"Who did it, sir?"
"Easy--It ain't a who. It's a way of doing things. You take it easy, you
know."
"Oh, yes, I understand now."
"Well, I went arter the fellow, and traced him up and down the streets
on the Surrey side, till I got him into a court where there was no
thoroughfare, and then I nabbed him."
"And he did no mischief?"
"None to signify. He settled a couple of old women and five or six
children, that was all."
Tobias shuddered, and the colonel said--
"I cannot but be surprised that Sir Richard has not yet found out the
retreat of Todd, and my own opinion is that he is dead."
"It is more than probable," said Ingestrie; "I have thought so several
times. When he found that there was no hope for him, and that he was in
a state of destitution, or something near it, which must be the fact, it
is likely enough that he has laid violent hands upon himself, and his
body may not be found for a long time."
"Well," said the colonel "let us get out for a stroll upon the beach. It
will be dark in another half hour, and as there is no moon to-night, we
shall not like to remain out."
They all rose upon this suggestion, but the evening dropped so rapidly,
and several black clouds piled themselves up in the sky, that Ingestrie,
after stepping out upon the balcony and looking at the weather, came
back again, and said--
"You had better remain in, all of you. I have seen enough of the sea,
and heard enough of the wind, to prophesy that this will be a rough
night in the Channel."
"Will there be a storm, Mark?" said Johanna.
"There will be a very good imitation of one, you may depend, if not a
real one."
"If there should be," said the colonel, "you will be rather surprised,
for, I can tell you, that a gale off this coast is no joke. You would be
truly amazed at the violence with which a regular south-western sets
upon this shore."
"I can easily imagine it," said Mark Ingestrie. "See, it darkens every
minute, and what an angry look that small cloud right away in the
horizon has."
"It has, indeed," said Johanna, as she clung to the arm of her husband.
"Do you think, Mark, that any poor souls will be wrecked to-night?"
"Probably enough; but the coast of Suffolk and the Irish Channel will be
the worst. It will be child's play here in comparison."
A strange booming noise came across the sea at this moment, and the
colonel cried out--
"Is that a gun, or is it thunder?"
"Thunder!" said Ingestrie; "hark! there it is again! There is a storm
some forty or fifty miles off. It's right away in the German Ocean, most
likely; but only look now even, dark as it is getting, how the sea is
rising, and what an odd seething condition it is getting into."
They all stood on the balcony and looked out towards the sea. The
surface of it was to the eye only undulating quite gently, and yet,
strange to say, it was rapidly covering with white foam, and that from
no perceptible cause, for as yet the wind was a mere trifle.
"How is that?" said Johanna. "The sea is not very rough, and yet it is
all white."
"It is the worst sign of bad weather," said Ingestrie. "The commotion
has begun below the surface in some mysterious way, and that white foam
which you see each moment rapidly increasing is cast up; but soon the
whole surface will begin to heave, and then you will find out what a
storm is."
"We may hear it," said the colonel; "but if this darkness continues, I
doubt very much if we shall be able to bring any other of our senses
into requisition upon the occasion."
"Hush!" said Tobias, "what is that?"
He held up his hand as he spoke, and as they were then all profoundly
still, a strange, low, wailing sound came over the water.
"What can it be?" said Johanna.
"Only the gale," smiled Ingestrie. "It's coming, now. That's the sigh of
the wind over the water. You will soon hear it, I can tell you. Now,
only notice how still everything is. There, look how that bird flies in
a terrified manner close to the ground. It knows that the gale is
coming. The sound you heard with intense listening, you will be able now
to hear without listening at all. It will force itself upon your notice.
Hilloa! There it comes! Look at the sea!"
A few miles out from the shore the sea seemed to rise like a wall of
water, tipped with a ridge of foam, and then down it came with such a
splash and a roar, that it was plainly heard on the shore, and then, in
a moment or two, the impulse so given communicated itself to the whole
of the sea, and it was fearfully agitated. With a roar and a shriek, the
gale swept on, and from that moment conversation was almost out of the
question.
The ladies of the party were glad to get into the house again, and in a
little time the colonel and Ingestrie found it anything but comfortable
to remain in the balcony; and as the night had fairly set in, they
likewise retreated.
The gale lasted the whole of the evening, and when our friends retired
to rest it seemed to be rather increasing than otherwise. It was still
dark when Ingestrie was awakened from his sleep by a knocking at the
door of his room.
"Hilloa!" he said; "who's there?"
"It is I," said Colonel Jeffrey. "Will you get up, Mr. Ingestrie? It is
nearly morning, and they say a ship is going down about a couple of
miles off the coast."
"I'm coming!" cried Ingestrie, as he sprang out of bed and dressed
himself with amazing rapidity. "If it does go down, it will not be the
only one that finds the bottom of the Channel to-night."
When he reached the lower part of the house, he found the colonel and
Ben waiting for him.
"This has been an awful night," said the colonel.
"Well, I don't know," said Ingestrie; "for I have been fast asleep."
"Asleep!" cried Ben; "I couldn't get a wink of sleep but once, and then
I dreamt I was a mermaid. Why, what with the howling of the wind, which
is a great deal worse than our lioness when she wants her knuckle of
beef, and the washing of the water, I couldn't rest at all."
"The voice of the wind," said Ingestrie, "always has the effect of
sending me fast asleep. But you said something of a ship in distress,
did you not?"
"Yes. They say that in the offing there is a large ship, and that she is
evidently water-logged, and must go down, unless she drives ashore."
"The deuce she must! Let us run down to the beach at once, and see what
we can do."
With this, they all three left the house, and made the best of their way
to the beach along the execrable shingle of the Brighton coast. It was
far from being an easy task to proceed, for the wind was terrific, and
now and then, when they did reach the beach, there came a sea washing
in, that drenched them with spray.
A crowd of people had collected upon the coast; some were holding up
lanterns on the end of poles, and many were prepared with ropes to cast
to the aid of any of the crew of the vessel that might swim to the
shore.
"There she is," said Ingestrie; "I see her! It's a small craft, and she
is a wreck already."
"She must go down, then?" said the colonel.
"I don't know. She is drifting in shore, but evidently quite
unmanageable. She is a sheer hulk. If they had the least control over
her, they could run her in in ten minutes on to the beach; but she is
going about like a log."
"Then, she may go down in deep water yet?"
"In truth, she may."
"Here are plenty of boats?"
"Boats? My dear friend, there never was a boat yet that could live in
such a sea as this. It is out of the question. You find no one makes the
attempt, and I am quite sure that among the hardy fishermen of this
place, there are many would do so if it were at all practicable; but it
is most certain that death in the surf would be the result."
"I fear it would, indeed."
"There she goes!" cried a voice.
"Eh?" said Ben, turning round and round, "I don't see anybody in the
female line."
"The ship!" cried Ingestrie. "They mean the ship. But she is not gone
yet. There she is, still. Do you see her, colonel, like a tub upon the
water? There, right away, by yon light-coloured cloud."
"I do--I do!"
The ship had not gone down. She had only settled for a moment or two in
the trough of the sea; and it was now quite evident that the wreck was
rapidly drifting towards the shore, so that there was an expectation
that it might strike in shallow water, and so give the crew a chance of
escape from death.