Refreshed by a draught of wine, I proceeded to prosecute our inquiry. I
had not yet lost hope; and with this I succeeded also in cheering my
friend. The day was Sunday; and I knew that the Saturday following was
the sailing day of the Atlantic steamer. There was then only the Cunard
line; and only one steamer every fortnight. Both day and hour were
fixed--each alternate Saturday at 12 noon--punctual as the Horse Guards'
clock. At both termini of her long ocean-journey was this punctuality
observed; and I knew that a gun proclaimed the exact meridional hour of
her departure. To reach New York, then, by 12 o'clock on Saturday, was
the object to be aimed at. Was it possible of accomplishment?
Inquiry led me to believe that it was; and hope once more supplanted
despair in the bosom of De Hauteroche.
Everything depended upon when we could get a boat to Wheeling: since
beyond that the journey would be by stage-coach and rail; and these had
fixed and certain arrangements.
When could we start for Wheeling? No one at the hotel could answer this
question; and, without loss of time, we proceeded to seek our
information at the wharf or landing.
None that day, of course. It was Sunday, and we did not expect it; but
we ascertained that a small boat--a very indifferent looking craft--
purposed starting for Pittsburg on the morrow. Of course a Pittsburg
boat would serve equally well for Wheeling. The hour promised was
twelve; and, without further hesitation, we engaged passage.
We needed the refreshment of a hotel; and, having paid our fare, we
returned to the Henry House.
Here we were put in possession of a piece of intelligence, unexpected as
it was unpleasant. It was to the effect that we need not calculate
getting off on the morrow--that there was not the slightest prospect of
such a thing; that the captain of the little boat--the _Buckeye_, she
was called--was well known to take several days in starting. We might
congratulate ourselves if we were off by Wednesday!
There was an air of probability in all this; and our informants had no
motive for deceiving us. Certainly it would have given us great
uneasiness--in fact, have destroyed our last hope--had it not been for
an idea that entered my head at that moment, and promised to get us
clear of such a sad dilemma. I had observed, while aboard, that the
_Buckeye_ was a very humble trader--that the money she received, on
account of either freight or passengers during a single trip, could not
be a very large amount; and that a douceur of 100 dollars would no doubt
fix her hour of sailing--as punctually as the _Cunard_ steamer herself.
I communicated my opinion to my friend. He was exactly of the same way
of thinking.
The thing was easily arranged. It cost us a second visit to the
_Buckeye_; and, before we retired for the night, we felt quite easy in
our minds that the little steamer would take us off at the appointed
hour.
And she did: having steamed off from the landing on the stroke of 12
noon, to the astonishment of all Cincinatti!
Wheeling was reached; and then jolting by stage over the cold mountains
to Cumberland, we continued on by rail to Baltimore. Thence without
delay to the drab city of Philadelphia; and onward to the metropolis of
America. We made no inquiries by the way; we did not stop, except for
the hours of the different trains: we had but one object in view--to
reach New York by 12 noon on Saturday.
It was Saturday morning when we left Philadelphia. We were in the very
train designed to reach New York in time--the express--arranged for the
sailing of the European steamer. Thank Heaven, we should be in time!
The Fates once more turned against us. Some accident to the engine,
occurring near Trenton, delayed us for half an hour; but this being
righted, we pressed forward with accelerated speed.
Many a watch was regarded with anxious eyes--for there were many in the
train who proposed crossing the Atlantic--but who can tell the agony
experienced at this moment by Luis de Hauteroche? I was myself too
troubled to speak.
The feeling at length reached its culminating point. The city of New
Jersey was in sight: there lay the _Cunard_ steamer at her moorings!
No, she is moving out! See! she has dropped into mid stream! Behold
that white puff of smoke! Hark! 'tis the signal gun! She is gone--
gone!
No boat may overtake her now--the swiftest would be launched in vain.
She will delay for no one--not even for Prince or President. She is the
_Cunard_ packet. Her laws are immutable--fixed--inexorable. O God! she
is gone!
My friend's distress exhibited itself in a frantic manner; but there
were others, suffering from far less disappointment, who made equal show
of their chagrin. This had the effect of drawing away from us that
notice we might otherwise have attracted.
Silent and melancholy we both stood upon the now deserted wharf--gazing
upon the black hull, that every minute was growing a more insignificant
object to the sight. I shall not attempt to depict the feelings of my
companion: I could scarcely analyse my own.
We were turning coldly away to seek some hotel; we had even advanced
some paces from the landing, when a singular cry, followed by a confused
murmur of voices, as of men in dispute, caused us to look back.
A small knot of sea-faring men stood on a projection of the wharf: they
appeared to be employes of the Steam Company; who, after performing the
duty of getting the vessel afloat, had lingered to see her out of the
bay. One of the men held a telescope levelled to his eye, and directed
down the bay: as if following the movements of the steamer. We listened
to hear what the men were saying.
"Yes!" exclaimed the man with the telescope, "I told you so--something
wrong yonder."
"Give me the glass, old fellow!" demanded one of his comrades--a
rough-looking sailor.
"Yes, give it to Brace, Bill--he's got a long sight."
The man surrendered the glass, as requested; and Brace, placing it to
his eye, looked silently and steadily through it. I could have heard my
companion's heart heating, had it not been for the thumping of my own.
How eagerly we waited for the words of Brace! They came at length--
words of gold!
"Ye be right, Bill--there ur somethin' wrong--there's a paddle broke--I
sees 'em on the wheel-house--yes, that's it."
"They'll put back again!" suggested one.
"Sartin to do," drawled Brace, "they are putting back--they're getting
the cripple round now as fast as she can come. Now she comes this way.
Make ready your ropes, boys--more grog, and plenty o' keelhaulin'!"
The reaction of feeling produced by these words, in the minds of my
companion and myself, cannot be described; and it was sustained by the
evidence of our own eyes--for, the moment after, we could make out that
it was the steamer's head that was towards us, and that she was slowly
but certainly making up the bay--back to the landing from which she had
just taken her departure.
There was something almost astounding in this occurrence. It seemed as
if Providence itself had a hand in the event.
We did not allow our excited feelings to hinder us from taking some
cautionary steps necessary to the carrying out of our design. There was
time enough for us to reach the office of the nearest justice, and arm
ourselves with the authority for an arrest; and before the steamer had
reached the wharf, we were on the spot with two plainclothes policemen,
anxious for action. They scented large game, and consequently a rich
reward.
They had soon an opportunity of earning it; for, in a few minutes after,
we were aboard, and Monsieur Jacques Despard was in handcuffs!
I was glad that we alighted upon him alone--as it saved a painful scene.
The ladies were in their state-room; and knew nothing of the arrest,
till after their travelling companion had been carried over the side of
the ship!
There was a scene notwithstanding--a scene of surprise and confusion;
but explanations followed fast; and the scene ended by all who took part
in it becoming imbued with one common feeling--that sense of supreme
joy, which one experiences who has just narrowly escaped from some
terrible danger.
As yet no injury had accrued. How near all had been to utter ruin!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Of course the passage money was freely forfeited to Messrs. Cunard Co;
and the family luggage transferred from the steamer to a Broadway hotel.
After a short stay there, another steamer that plies between New York
and New Orleans, carried us directly to the latter city--where Monsieur
Gardette was good enough to meet us, and deliver up his temporary ward.
Long ere this we had learnt the details of the Despard infamy. They
differed, in no essential particular, from what conjecture had suggested
to us.
It appeared that it was not the first time Despard had personated young
De Hauteroche, to his own advantage, and the latter's disgrace. He was
well aware of the remarkable likeness between them; and with this, as an
aid to his swindling designs, he acted with a certainty of success. He
had taken pains to possess himself of such points in the family history
as were accessible to his inquiries; and it was while prosecuting this
branch of his _industrie_, that the letters had fallen into his hands.
Of the use he made of them we know most of the details. As already
conjectured, he had started for Saint Louis, on gaining possession of
the will and the letter which accompanied it; and, as neither Madame
Dardonville nor Olympe had seen Luis de Hauteroche for a considerable
period of time, the deception was easy enough. The voyage to France was
a deep laid scheme; and the circular letter for 10,000 dollars on a
Paris Bank was a bold stroke of swindling. Once there, the villain
expected to be the recipient of that money. The plea for the journey
was not without plausibility. The Saint Louis rumour was correct: a
dead uncle's property left to the De Hauteroches--a legacy that required
to be claimed immediately. Another inducement: his sister Adele and the
young Englishman were to meet him there--in Paris. The Englishman was
married to Adele, and preferred returning to Europe by the West India
steamer! Such had been his story.
The hasty marriage somewhat surprised Madame Dardonville, as well as the
design of the European convention. She regarded it as somewhat
eccentric; but Luis De Hauteroche was to her, nearest and dearest, and
how could she refuse compliance with his proposal? In fine, she made
her arrangements, and set forth.
Nothing had been said of the marriage between Luis and Olympe. That was
tacitly left for future arrangement. Paris would be the place--if it
should ever come off It was doubtful, however, whether it ever would
have taken place--even if the steamer had held on her way. Both Madame
Dardonville and her daughter had conceived strange imaginings about the
projected son-in-law. Something had occurred every day--almost every
hour--to excite surprise--even a little _degout_. Luis De Hauteroche
had much changed--for the worse--had become dissipated, vulgarised--in
short, anything but what should have been expected in the son of his
father. It was a disappointment--a chagrin.
Poor Luis! Had the steamer gone on, he might have lost part of the
fortune, but he was in little danger of losing his wife. Olympe would
undoubtedly have forfeited the legacy rather than have yielded herself
up to the vulgar counterfeit.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
I saw Despard once afterwards--while on a visit to the Louisiana State
Prison at Bayou Sara. With his little pile of picked cotton before him,
he looked a sorry enough sort of wretch--far different from the ruffled
_elegant_ of other days. The forgery had been proved home, and entitled
him to his present residence for a lease of not less than ten years!
How very different appeared his counterpart when I last saw him,
elegantly attired, living in an elegant mansion with elegant furniture,
and waited on by a troop of willing domestics!
And she who gave him all this was by his side--his blooming bride--the
lovely Olympe.