the mail from London took eight days on its journey to Edinburgh;
by possessing herself of the warrant for her father's death and
detaining it, she could count on the delay of sixteen or seventeen
days at least before application could be made for a second, and
that signed and sent to the Scotch capital. By this delay, time
enough would be won for her friends in London to use all their
influence to quash the sentence.
It was a mad scheme; but, as she had said, nothing is impossible
to a true heart. She had possessed herself, too, of the minutest
information with regard to the places where the postmen rested on
their journey. One of these places, she knew, was a small inn kept
by a widow on the outskirts of the little town of Belford. There
the man who received the bag at Durham was accustomed to arrive at
about six in the morning, and take a few hours' sleep before going
on with his journey. And at Belford, Grizel Cochrane had determined
to meet him.
Taking leave of her faithful nurse, she rode southwards again, and,
timing her pace, drew up before the inn at Belford just an hour
after the postman had come in from the south and disposed himself
to sleep.
The mistress of the inn had no ostler, so Grizel stabled her horse
with her own hands, and striding into the inn-parlor, demanded food
and drink.
"Sit ye down, then," answered the old woman, "at the end of yon table,
for the best I have to give you is there already. And be pleased,
my bonny man, to make as little noise as may be; for there's one
asleep in that bed that I like ill to disturb."
She pointed to the victuals on the board, which were indeed the
remains of the sleeping man's meal. Grizel sat down before them,
considered to herself while she played with a mouthful or two, and
then asked--
"Can I have a drink of water?"
"'Deed," answered the hostess, "and are ye a water-drinker? 'Tis
but an ill-custom for a change-house."
"Why, that I know; and so, when I put up at an inn, 'tis my custom
always to pay for it the price of stronger drink, which I cannot
take."
"Indeed--well, that's fairly spoken; and, come to think of it,
'tis but just." The landlady brought a jug of water and set it on
the board.
"Is the well where you got this water near at hand?" said Grizel,
pouring out a glass and sipping at it; "for if 'tis no trouble to
fetch some fresh for me, I will tell you this is rather over-warm
and flat. Your trouble shall be considered in the dawing," added
she.
"'Tis a good step off," answered the dame; "but I cannot refuse to
fetch for so civil, discreet a lad--and a well-favored one, besides.
So bide ye here, and I'll be as quick as I maun. But for any sake
take care and don't meddle with the man's pistols there, for they
are loaded, the both; and every time I set eyes on them they scare
me out of my senses, almost."
She took up a pitcher and went out to draw the water. No sooner
was Grizel left alone than, starting up, she waited for a moment,
listening to the footsteps as they died away in the distance, and
then crept swiftly across the floor to the place where the postman
lay asleep. He lay in one of those close wooden bedsteads, like
cupboards, which were then common in the houses of the poor, and
to this day may be seen in many a house in Brittany. The door of it
was left half-open to give the sleeper air, and from this aperture
the noise of his snoring issued in a way that shook the house.
Nevertheless, it seemed to the girl that he must be awakened by
the creaking of the floor under her light footfall. With heart in
mouth she stole up to the bedstead, and gently pulling the door
still wider ajar, peeped in, in the hope of seeing the mail-bag
and being able to pounce upon it.
She saw it, indeed; but to her dismay, it lay beneath the shaggy
head of its guardian--a giant in size. The postman used his charge
as a pillow, and had flung himself so heavily across it as to
give not the faintest hope that any one could pull it away without
disturbing its keeper from his nap. Nothing could be done now. In
those few bitter moments, during which she stood helplessly looking
from the bag which contained the fatal warrant to the unconscious
face of the man before her, Grizel made up her mind to another
plan.
She turned to the table, caught up the postman's holsters, and
pulled out the pistols of which the old woman had professed herself
in such terror. Quickly drawing and secreting the charges, she
returned them to their cases, with many an anxious look over her
shoulder towards the bedstead, and took her seat again at the foot
of the table.
Hardly had she done so when she heard the old woman returning
with the pitcher. Grizel took a draught, for her throat felt like
a lime-kiln, and having settled her bill, much to the landlady's
satisfaction, by paying for the water the price of a pot of beer,
prepared to set off. She carelessly asked and ascertained how much
longer the other guest was likely to sleep.
"By the noise he makes he intends sleeping till Doomsday," she
said, laughing.
"Ay, poor man! his is a hard life," said the hostess; "and little
more than half an hour more before he must be on the highway again."
Grizel laughed once more, and, mounting her horse, set off at a
trot along the road southward, as if continuing her journey in that
direction.
Hardly had she got beyond the town, however, when turning the
horse's head she galloped back, making a circuit around Belford and
striking into the high road again between that place and Berwick.
Having gained it, she walked the horse gently on, awaiting the
coming up of the postman.
Though all her mind was now set on the enterprise before her, she
could not help a shiver of terror as she thought on the chance of
her tampering with the pistols being discovered, and their loading
replaced. But she had chosen her course, and now she must go through
with it. She was a woman, after all; and it cannot be wondered
that her heart began to beat quickly as her ear caught the sound
of hoofs on the road behind her, and, turning, she saw the man on
whose face she had been gazing not an hour before, trotting briskly
towards her--the mail-bags (there were two--one containing the
letters direct from London, the other those taken up at the different
post-offices on the road) strapped one on each side of his saddle
in front, close to the holsters.
At the last moment her nerve came back, and as he drew near she
saluted him civilly and with perfect calmness, put her horse into
the same pace with his, and rode on for some way in his company.
The postman was a burly, thick-set man, with a good-humored face.
You may be sure that Miss Cochrane inspected it anxiously enough,
and was relieved to find that it did not contain any vast amount
of hardy courage.
The man was well enough inclined for conversation, too, and as
they rode had a heap of chat, which it seemed a pity to interrupt.
At length, however, when they were about half-way between Belford
and Berwick, Grizel judged now or never was the time. Pulling her
horse's rein gently so as to bring her close to her company, she
said in a low but perfectly determined voice--
"Friend, I have taken a fancy for those mail-bags of yours, and I
must have them: therefore take my advice, and deliver them up quietly,
for I am provided for all hazards. I am mounted, as you see, on
a fleet horse; I carry fire-arms; and, moreover, I am allied with
those who are stronger, though not bolder, than I. You see that
wood, yonder?" she continued, pointing to one about a mile off,
with an accent and air meant to corroborate her bold words. "Then
take my advice: give me up your bags, and speed back the road you
came for the present, nor dare to approach that wood for at least
two or three hours to come."
The postman, whose eyes had been growing rounder and rounder during
this speech from the stripling beside him, pulled up and looked at
her in dumb amazement for some moments.
"If," said he, as soon as he found his tongue, "you mean, young
master, to make yourself merry at my expense, you are heartily
welcome. I can see a joke, I trust, as well as another man; so
have your laugh out, and don't think I'm one to take offence at
the words of a foolish boy. But if," and here he whipped a pistol
from his holster and turned the muzzle on her face--"if y'are mad
enough to think seriously of such a business, then I am ready for
you."
They had come to a stand now, in the middle of the road; and Grizel
felt an ugly sinking at the heart as she looked at the mouth of the
pistol, now not a yard from her cheek. Nevertheless she answered,
very quietly and cooly--
"If you have a doubt, dismiss it; I am quite in earnest."
The postman, with his hand on the trigger, hesitated.
"Methinks my lad, you seem of an age when robbing a garden or an
old woman's fruit-stall would befit you better, if so be you must
turn thief, than taking his Majesty's mails upon his highway from
a stout and grown man. So be thankful, then, you have met with one
who will not shed blood if he can help it, and go your way before
I am provoked to fire."
"Sir," said Grizel, "you are a worthy man; nor am I fonder of
bloodshed than you; but if you will not be persuaded, what shall
I do? For I have said--and it is truth--that mail I must and will
have. Choose, then;" and with this she pulled out a pistol from
under her cloak, and, cocking it, presented it in his face.
"Nay, then, your blood be on your own head," cried the postman,
and raising his pistol again he pulled the trigger; it flashed in
the pan. Dashing the weapon to the ground, he pulled out the other
in a moment, and aiming it in Grizel's face, fired--with the same
result. In a furious passion he flung down this pistol, too, sprang
from his horse, and dashed forward to seize her. She dug her spurs
into her horse's flank and just eluded his grasp. Meanwhile the
postman's horse, frightened at the noise and the struggle, had moved
forward a pace or two. The girl saw her opportunity, and seized it
in the same instant. Another dig with the spurs, and her own horse
was level with the other; leaning forward she caught at the bridle,
and calling to the pair, in an instant was galloping off along the
highway, leaving the postman helplessly staring.
She had gone about a hundred yards with her prize, when she pulled
up to look back. Her discomfited antagonist was still standing
in the middle of the road, apparently stupefied with amazement at
the unlooked-for turn which affairs had taken. Shouting to him
to remember her advice about the wood, she put both the horses to
their speed, and on looking back once more was gratified to find
that the postman, impressed with the truth of her mysterious threat,
had turned and was making the best of his way back to Belford.
On gaining the wood to which she had pointed, Grizel tied the
postman's horse to a tree, at a safe distance from the road, and
set about unfastening the straps of the mail-bags. With a sharp
penknife she ripped them open, and searched for the government
despatches among their contents. To find these was not difficult, owing
to their address to the council in Edinburgh, and of the imposing
weight of their seals. Here she discovered, not only the warrant
for her father's death, but also many other sentences inflicting
punishment in varying degrees on the unhappy men who had been
taken in the late rising. Time was pressing; she could not stop to
examine the warrants, but, quickly tearing them in small pieces,
placed them carefully in her bosom.
This done, and having arranged all the private papers as far
as possible as she had found them, Grizel mounted her horse again
and rode off. The postman's horse and the mail-bags, she imagined,
would soon be found, from the hints which she had given to the man
about the wood--and this afterwards proved to be the case. She now
set her horse at a gallop again, and did not spare whip or spur
until she reached the cottage of her nurse, where her first care
was to burn, not only the warrant for her father's death, but the
remainder of the sentences on his fellow-prisoners. Having satisfied
herself that all trace of the obnoxious papers was now consumed,
she put on again her female garments, and was once more the gentle
and unassuming Miss Grizel Cochrane.
It was high time, however, to be making her way northwards again;
accordingly she left her pistols and cloak to be concealed by
the nurse, and again set forward on her journey. By avoiding the
highroad, resting only at the most sequestered cottages--and then
but for an hour or so--and riding all the while as hard as she
might, she reached Edinburgh in safety early next morning.
It remains only to say that the time thus won by this devoted girl
was enough to gain the end for which she strove; and Father Peters
plied the ear of King James so importunately that at length the
order was signed for Sir John Cochrane's pardon.
The state of public affairs rendered it prudent for many years that
this action of Grizel Cochrane's should be kept secret; but after
the Revolution, when men could speak more freely, her heroism was
known and applauded. She lived to marry Mr. Ker, of Morriston, in
Berwickshire, and doubtless was as good a wife as she had proved
herself a daughter.
THE SUNKEN TREASURE
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
Picture to yourselves a handsome, old-fashioned room, with a large,
open cupboard at one end, in which is displayed a magnificent gold
cup, with some other splendid articles of gold and silver plate. In
another part of the room, opposite to a tall looking-glass, stands
our beloved chair, newly polished, and adorned with a gorgeous
cushion of crimson velvet, tufted with gold.
In the chair sits a man of strong and sturdy frame, whose face has
been roughened by northern tempests and blackened by the burning
sun of the West Indies. He wears an immense periwig, flowing down
over his shoulders. His coat has a wide embroidery of golden foliage;
and his waistcoat, likewise, is all flowered over and bedizened
with gold. His red, rough hands, which have done many a good day's
work with the hammer and adze, are half covered by the delicate lace
ruffles at his wrists. On a table lies his silver-hilted sword;
and in the corner of the room stands his gold-headed cane, made of
a beautifully polished West India wood Somewhat such an aspect as
this did Phips present when he sat in Grandfather's chair after
the king had appointed him Governor of Massachusetts.
But Sir William Phips had not always worn a gold-embroidered coat,
nor always sat so much at his ease as he did in Grandfather's chair.
He was a poor man's son, and was born in the province of Maine,
where in his boyhood he used to tend sheep upon the hills. Until he
had grown to be a man, he did not even know how to read and write.
Tired of tending sheep, he apprenticed himself to a ship-carpenter,
and spent about four years in hewing the crooked limbs of oak trees
into knees for vessels.
In 1673, when he was twenty-two years old, he came to Boston, and
soon afterwards was married to a widow lady, who had property enough
to set him up in business. It was not long before he lost all the
money that he had acquired by his marriage, and became a poor man
again. Still, he was not discouraged. He often told his wife that
he should be very rich, and would build a "fair brick house" in
the Green Lane of Boston.
Several years passed away; and Phips had not yet gained the riches
which he promised to himself. During this time he had begun to
follow the sea for a living. In the year 1684 he happened to hear
of a Spanish ship which had been cast away near Porto de la Plata.
She had now lain for fifty years beneath the waves. This old ship
had been laden with immense wealth; and nobody had thought of the
possibility of recovering any part of it from the deep sea which
was rolling and tossing it about. But though it was now an old
story, Phips resolved that the sunken treasure should again be
brought to light.
He went to London and obtained admittance to King James. He told
the king of the vast wealth that was lying at the bottom of the
sea. King James listened with attention, and thought this a fine
opportunity to fill his treasury with Spanish gold. He appointed
William Phips to be captain of a vessel, called the _Rose Algier_,
carrying eighteen guns and ninety-five men. So now he was Captain
Phips of the English navy.
The captain sailed from England and cruised for two years in the
West Indies, trying to find the wrecked Spanish ship. But the sea
is so wide and deep that it is no easy matter to discover the exact
spot where a sunken vessel lies. The prospect of success seemed very
small, and most people thought that Phips was as far from having
money enough to build a "fair brick house" as he was while he tended
sheep.
The seamen became discouraged, and gave up all hope of making their
fortunes by discovering the Spanish wreck. They wanted Phips to
turn pirate. There was a much better prospect of growing rich by
plundering vessels which still sailed in the sea than by seeking
for a ship that had lain beneath the waves full half a century.
They broke out in open mutiny, but were finally mastered by Phips,
and compelled to obey his orders. It would have been dangerous to
continue much longer at sea with such a crew of mutinous sailors;
and the ship was unseaworthy. So Phips judged it best to return to
England.
Before leaving the West Indies, he met with an old Spaniard who
remembered the wreck of the Spanish ship, and gave him directions
how to find the very spot. It was on a reef of rocks, a few leagues
from Porto de la Plata.
On his arrival in England Phips solicited the king to let him have
another vessel and send him back again to the West Indies. But King
James refused to have anything more to do with the affair. Phips
might never have been able to renew the search if the Duke of
Albemarle and some other noblemen had not lent their assistance.
They fitted out a ship, and he sailed from England, and arrived
safely at La Plata, where he took an adze and assisted his men to
build a large boat.
The boat was intended for going closer to the rocks than a large
vessel could safely venture. When it was finished, the captain
sent several men in it to examine the spot where the Spanish ship
was said to have been wrecked. They were accompanied by some Indians,
who were skilful divers, and could go down a great way into the
depths of the sea.
The boat's crew proceeded to the reef of rocks, and gazed down into
the transparent water. Nothing could they see more valuable than a
curious sea shrub growing beneath the water, in a crevice of the.
reef of rocks. It flaunted to and fro with the swell and reflux
of the waves, and looked as bright and beautiful as if its leaves
were gold.
"We won't go back empty-handed," cried an English sailor; and then
he spoke to one of the, Indian divers. "Dive down and bring me that
pretty sea shrub there. That's the only treasure we shall find!"
Down plunged the diver, and soon rose dripping from the water,
holding the sea shrub in his hand. But he had learned some news
at the bottom of the sea. "There are some ship's guns," said he,
the moment he had drawn breath, "some great cannon, among the rocks,
near where the shrub was growing."
No sooner had he spoken than the English sailors knew that they
had found the spot where the Spanish galleon had been wrecked, so
many years before. The other Indian divers plunged over the boat's
side and swam headlong down, groping among the rocks and sunken
cannon. In a few moments one of them rose above the water with a
heavy lump of silver in his arms. That single lump was worth more
than a thousand dollars. The sailors took it into the boat, and
then rowed back is speedily as they could, being in haste to inform
Captain Phips of their good luck.
But, confidently as the captain had hoped to find the Spanish wreck,
yet, now that it was really found, the news seemed too good to be
true. He could not believe it till the sailors showed him the lump
of silver. "Thanks be to God!" then cries Phips. "We shall every
man of us make our fortunes!"
Hereupon the captain and all the crew set to work, with iron rakes
and great hooks and lines, fishing for gold and silver at the bottom
of the sea. Up came the treasures in abundance. Now they beheld a
table of solid silver, once the property of an old Spanish grandee.
Now they found an altar vessel, which had been destined as a gift
to some Catholic church. Now they drew up a golden cup, fit for
the King of Spain to drink his wine out of. Now their rakes were
loaded with masses of silver bullion. There were also precious
stones among the treasure, glittering and sparkling, so that it is
a wonder how their radiance could have been concealed.
After a day or two they discovered another part of the wreck where
they found a great many bags of silver dollars. But nobody could
have guessed that these were money-bags. By remaining so long in
the salt-water they had become covered over with a crust which had
the appearance of stone, so that it was necessary to break them
in pieces with hammers and axes. When this was done, a stream of
silver dollars gushed out upon the deck of the vessel.
The whole value of the recovered treasure, plate, bullion, precious
stones, and all, was estimated at more than two millions of dollars.
It was dangerous even to look at such a vast amount of wealth. A
captain, who had assisted Phips in the enterprise, lost his reason
at the sight of it. He died two years afterward, still raving about
the treasures that lie at the bottom of the sea.
Phips and his men continued to fish up plate, bullion, and dollars,
as plentifully as ever, till their provisions grew short. Then,
as they could not feed upon gold and silver any more than old King
Midas could, they found it necessary to go in search of food. Phips
returned to England, arriving there in 1687, and was received with
great joy by the Albemarles and other English lords who had fitted
out the vessel. Well they might rejoice; for they took the greater
part of the treasures to themselves.
The captain's share, however, was enough to make him comfortable
for the rest of his days. It also enabled him to fulfil his promise
to his wife, by building a "fair brick house" in the Green Lane of
Boston. The Duke of Albemarle sent Mrs. Phips a magnificent gold
cup, worth at least five thousand dollars. Before Captain Phips
left London, King James made him a knight; so that, instead of
the obscure ship-carpenter who had formerly dwelt among them, the
inhabitants of Boston welcomed him on his return as the rich and
famous Sir William Phips.
THE LOST EXILES OF TEXAS
By Arthur Gilman
If we could have stood upon the shores of Matagorda Bay with the
Indians on a certain day over two hundred years ago we might have
been witness to a strange sight. Before us would have been spread
out the waters of a broad and sheltered harbor opening towards the
sea through a narrow passage which was obstructed by sandbars and
an island. One's eyes could not reach to the end of the bay, which
is fifty miles long; nor could they see land beyond the sea-passage,
for that opens into the broad Gulf of Mexico. Let us take our stand
on the shore and see what we can see.
There appear to us, as if by magic, the forms of two French gentlemen
accompanied by a small party of soldiers, who come from the mouth
of the bay, and carefully thread their way along the shore. It is
a strange company of men. The leader is a native of Rouen, and he
says that few of his companions are fit for anything but eating.
He thought that his band comprised creatures of all sorts, like
Noah's ark, but unlike the collection of the great patriarch, they
seemed to be few of them worth saving.
As we look, the men begin to gather together the pieces of
drift-wood that the peaceful waves throw up on to the shore. They
are evidently planning to make a raft; but as one of them casts his
lazy eyes in the direction in which ours were at first thrown, he
exclaims with evident joy, in his native French _"Voila les vaisseaux!"_
or words to that effect, for he has descried two ships entering
the bay from the Gulf. The ships slowly keep their way towards
the inland coast, and from one of them there lands a man evidently
higher in authority than any we have seen. His air is calm,
dignified, forceful, persistent. He announces to those about him
that they are at one of the mouths of the great Mississippi, or,
as he well calls it _"La riviére fu-neste,"_ the fatal river. "Here
shall we land all our men," he adds, "and here shall our vessels
be placed in safe harbor."