“Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth
Hide thee!
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold!
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with.”
MACBETH.
It was with the greatest difficulty that James Willmington succeeded in
restraining the curiosity of his wife until the period which he himself
had appointed to tell her the particulars of the capture of the ship, and
also the singular circumstance of his trial, punishment and rescue.
The period had now arrived.
In a beautiful and fantastic pavilion, into which the soft evening breeze
wafted the sweet perfume of a thousand delicate flowers which bloomed
around, sat James Willmington. He was seated at the head of a vast,
spreading table that was loaded with the choicest and most delicious
fruits that the tropics produce. Opposite to him sat Mrs. Willmington, on
whose side two very beautiful infant daughters were respectively placed.
On the right hand of Willmington was his son, a youth of about eighteen,
who was dressed in the uniform of an officer.
The pure wax tapers that burnt in chaste and elegant candlesticks of
solid silver, shed a cheerful and soft light around. The faint music of
a small fountain that played hard by, fell soothingly on the ear, as it
grew louder and louder, or fell fainter and still fainter, according
to the direction and strength of the lulling breeze that seemed to
sport with its jets. The old family pictures that hung on the walls
looked down fiercely and frowningly, or smiled upon the happy and quiet
group, according to the stern and warlike disposition or the benignant
characters of each.
The servants had all retired for the time to their own apartments; and
Willmington sat quietly smoking an exquisite cigar, and sipping from time
to time the crystal iced water that stood in a tumbler by his side.
“I shall now tell you,” he said, “the succession of accidents which has
brought me back to Trinidad,” and he began to relate the particulars of
the capture of the merchant vessel, the distribution of the shares,
his trial, his being thrown overboard, the agony that he suffered on
the cask, and finally his providential rescue, the capture of the
pirate captain and his supposed suicide. He narrated circumstance on
circumstance, quickly passed over the alleged causes of his sufferings,
and mentioned Appadocca as one who claimed to be his son.
“Confound his impudence,” cried the youth of eighteen. “I wish I had been
there, I should have caned his insolence out of him. The idea! to call
my father, his father, vile cut-throat as he was. I wish I had him now.
But do you know anything at all of him? How came he to claim you as his
father, sir?” he inquired, after a time.
“Do not interrupt me;—do not interrupt me,” was the only answer
Willmington made to this home and embarrassing question.
Time had flown during his long narrative. The clock had already struck
eleven—a late hour in the tropics—when he was concluding.
“Yes, my children,” he said at the end, with great solemnity,
endeavouring to make the contemplated impression, “there is one above to
punish evil doers.”
“Ay, and he never slumbers,” replied a deep sonorous voice from without,
and in a moment afterwards the pirate captain stood before James
Willmington.
The cigar fell from his jaws, that palsied with terror, now gaped
asunder. His hands trembled, and threw over the glass of iced water
towards which it was being stretched, his silvery hair seemed to stand
on end, and with a sudden bound, Willmington started from his seat and
reeled over his chair towards a corner of the apartment.
“Get out of my sight, get out of my sight, accursed, damned spirit; in
the name of Christ, I conjure you!” he cried, while his eyeballs glared,
and large drops of sweat trickled down his forehead that was almost green
with fear.
Appadocca calmly raised the chair from the floor, drew it to the head of
the table, folded his thin cloak around him and sat down.
“I did not design to deliver you up to the authorities,” shrieked
Willmington, almost inarticulately. “No, no! I had only intended to
frighten you, I would have allowed you to escape. Oh, yes, I would have
protected you; yes, yes, I would have protected you like a father.
Forgive, forgive me, and scare me no more.”
Appadocca looked round upon the miserable Willmington, who, contracted
with terror within the smallest possible heap, crouched in a corner.
“Do not look at me,” cried Willmington still more terrified, “vanish,
vanish, in the name of Heaven and all the saints. If you come from
Hell—to-to haunt me,—return, return. It was not I that wronged you.
Forgetfulness, forgetfulness—I intended—I intended always—always to find
you out. Your mother, aye, your—your mother loved me. Have mercy—mercy—on
me,—the vessel—the vessel took me by—by chance to St. Thomas. I did
not—I did ask him: no—no—I was sorry—sorry, when—when—you were drowned.
Mercy—mercy.”
“Come here and make your will,” said Appadocca, authoritatively, without
paying the slightest attention to the cries of the wretched and almost
distracted man.
“Make my will? will!” recommenced Willmington, “do you intend to murder
me? Hence, hence, I am a christian, you have no power on me. No, no,—do
not—do not—out, out of my sight, damned, reprobate spirit.”
“I am no spirit. Speak not to me so sillily. Make your will, I say,” said
Appadocca, with more authority, “and do not let these children suffer
from your loss. The minutes that you can remain with them are counted.”
“Will, will!” exclaimed Willmington, as if already staggering in his
intellect.
“Will? I have no will to make. My will is made already. Do not speak to
me of wills—do not speak to me of wills, I do not wish to die—I will not
die. Leave my sight—leave my sight—leave my sight.”
“Then settle your other affairs,” said Appadocca with the same authority
as before. “I allow you five minutes; at the end of that time you must go
with me.”
“No—no, I will not go with you,” shrieked Willmington, “I did you no
harm——I intended you no harm. Let me live a little longer—give me but
seven years to live—five—two;—half a year;—a month—a week, a day;—do not
take me away so soon. Let me live, let me live. Do not take me with you.
It was not I that drowned you.”
“It would be prudent on your part to fill the five minutes, which are
accorded you more profitably than by these vain petitions. I—”
“Vain petitions! Let them not be vain; look at the children that I
have to maintain and protect: do not take me away from them,” cried
Willmington, interrupting Appadocca.
“I am no ghost,” continued Appadocca, “but something worse.”
“Was he not drowned?” Willmington began to mutter. “Did he not jump into
the sea—at the bocas—or farther out?—Can he—could he have been saved?
no, no, delusion—delusion. His face is as pale as death. He is still
and quiet as the grave;” continued Willmington, as he gazed intently on
Appadocca, who was still sitting calmly at the table.
The period had elapsed, the moment of doom had now arrived.
“The period is past, your time is come,” said Appadocca, “rise and go
with me.”
“No—no,” shrieked Willmington, madly,—“no—no—no.”
And with a sudden spring he jumped from the corner to one of the doors:
he was roughly thrown back by some person who was outside: he then
rushed to another, and was again repelled—to another, and he was once
more forced back. He sprang on to the jalousies, and as he succeeded in
opening one, he was quickly shoved back by some powerful arm from the
outside, into the room again.
Like one who endeavours to flee from devouring flames, that rush in
merciless fury to close him in, and finds every passage, every outlet,
or crevice for escape barred against him, the unhappy man reeled back
into the room in the madness of despair.
“Murder—murder,” he shouted,
“John!—Charles!—James!—Edward!—Murder!—Murder!—pirates!—fiends, pirates,
robbers, police, police.”
“Ho! there! Domingo,—Gregoire!—Alphonso!—Jose!” called Appadocca, with
his habitual calmness.
Four men on the call entered the room. Their flashing eyes shone from
beneath their overhanging red caps, and their long beards and mustachios
exhibited a peculiar appearance under the silvery light of the tapers,
which tended to display to the full their dark and dry complexions.
“Secure him,” said Appadocca pointing to Willmington, as the men entered.
“Do not touch him for your lives,” cried the young officer, the son of
James Willmington, that sat on his right.
He, like his father, had been under the power of a supernatural terror
from the moment that Appadocca entered, and had been addressed as a
visitant from another world; but when he became awake to the fact that
the intruder was a being of flesh and blood, he grasped his sword that
lay on a table, and rushed at Appadocca.
“Do not touch him for your lives,” he cried, while he made a lunge at
the breast of the pirate-captain who still retained his seat. The point
was already touching the cloak of Appadocca, when the heavy weapons of
some unseen individuals from without, shattered the slender sword into a
thousand pieces.
“Secure you the young man, Baptiste,” said Appadocca, unmoved by the
danger which he had so narrowly escaped.
A man immediately stepped into the room and threw his arm round the
unresisting young officer.
The four men had rushed upon Willmington. Despair had maddened him into
a sort of courage: he met the foremost one of them half way, and grasped
him around the throat, with the clutch of death. The pirate also seized
him, and the two men, animated with passions which though different in
their natures were equally fierce in themselves, grappled like madmen,
and staggered violently to and fro. The strong effort of the pirate,
could not throw off Willmington, who clung to him with the tenacity of
the serpent that tightens its refolded coils around the triumphant tiger
that still presses its paw on its bruised head.
Lashed into rage, the pirate drew his knife: it gleamed for a moment
overhead, and was descending, with certain death upon its point, when——
“Hold!” cried Appadocca, “no blood; help him Gregoire, Jose, help him,
there.”
The voice of the captain arrested the disciplined arm.
Spurred by the immediate commands of their chief, the other pirates
closed in upon Willmington, and by the exercise of violent force tore him
away from their comrade, who stood for a moment with his eyes fiery and
glaring from anger, and with his chest heaving heavily and quickly.
The prisoner kicked and shouted until the words rattled hoarsely in his
throat; but he was now in no soft or gentle hands. Sooner than we can
write it, he was tied hand and foot; his cries, nevertheless, still
resounded through the place.
“Gag him,” was the immediate order.
The prisoner’s neckcloth was roughly undone, and violently thrust into
his mouth.
“Away with him.”
The pirates stretched out two pikes: the prisoner was laid across them,
they raised him on their shoulders, and walked silently out of the
apartment.
“Now unhand your prisoner, Baptiste,” said Appadocca, to the man who held
young Willmington. Baptiste let go his hold.
“My father, my father,” shouted young Willmington and rushed first to one
door, and then to the other, all of which he found guarded on the outside.
“Sir, you cannot go out,” said Appadocca.
“I will go out—I will go after my father,” ejaculated young Willmington.
“You cannot, and shall not,” answered Appadocca.
The young officer rushed to all the doors in succession, and was rudely
pushed back at each.
“You see you cannot go out,” observed Appadocca.
“Who are you? what do you wish to do with my father?” inquired the young
Willmington, as he turned disappointedly from the door.
“I shall tell you, by-and-bye,” answered Appadocca.
“Tell me at once, and let me out,” cried young Willmington.
“That cannot be.”
“That must be: I must rescue my father,” rejoined young Willmington.
“Banish the idea: you will never be able to do so,” replied Appadocca.
“Why not?”
“Because you will be prevented,” answered Appadocca.
“Prevented?—prevented? Hell, itself, with all its legions, shall not
prevent me,” shouted young Willmington. “I will rescue my father.”
“Do so,” answered Appadocca.
The young man rushed to the doors again, and was thrust back as before.
After a series of vain attempts, he staggered, almost exhausted, into the
centre of the room.
“You see, sir, I make no ungrounded assertions. It is impossible for you
to follow your father,” said Appadocca.
“Why impossible? Confound you as a cut-throat—murderer,” asked young
Willmington.
“Because,” answered Appadocca, without noticing the harsh epithets,
“because he is implicated in a vow that must be fulfilled.”
“I understand no such vow,” said young Willmington, “and if I had a
sword, I should force my way in spite of you.”
“Ha! we shall now understand each other, sir,” said Appadocca, then threw
aside his cloak, unbelted his richly-ornamented sword, and laid it on the
table. “You can use that, sir,” he said to young Willmington, while he
pointed to it, and stepping towards the door—
“Lend me your sword,” he said to one of the men.
The person gave up his sword at once to Appadocca, who went round the
room, and carefully bolted every door, one after the other. After that,
he said to his men.
“Retire into the high road, and remain there until I call.”
The men retired from the doors, and Appadocca closed with the same care
the one by which he had entered.
He was now left in the apartment only with young Willmington, Mrs.
Willmington, who lay insensible on the floor, where she had fallen at the
appearance of Appadocca, and her two infant daughters, who stared on in a
state of absolute stupefaction.
“Now, sir,” said Appadocca to young Willmington, standing by the table,
and leaning on the sword which he had borrowed, “allow me to speak to
you. I am your father’s son.”
“You are not,” indignantly remarked young Willmington.
“It is an honor,” said Appadocca with a smile, while he bowed to the
young man, “which I have never prized, I believe your stock is stamped
with a peculiar mark: behold it!” and Appadocca opened his little finger
as widely apart as possible from the other, and pointed to something
between the two fingers.
Young Willmington looked, stared, and started back in astonishment, but
spoke not a word.
“He,” continued Appadocca, after this disclosure, “treated me with
harshness, injustice, and cruelty, and wronged, in addition, one whose
place I now supply, and in whose name I seek vengeance. I owe him nothing
except punishment. I am, therefore, your father’s sworn persecutor, and
retributioner. You, he has always treated with kindness and affection;
the bonds of natural obligation have been drawn the tighter on you by
good deeds. You are, therefore, by the principles of justice, his natural
defender. Now he is named in a vow that I have made, and I cannot let
you rescue him. I have the power to prevent you from making any attempt
to that effect, and I shall do it. But there is yet a satisfaction which
I can give you, and I shall do so. With my life, the persecution which
is now carried on against your father will cease; for I shall leave none
behind me to take up my cause. I am willing, therefore, to throw life
and death on a hazard, and to afford you as fair a chance as possible
of purchasing your father’s deliverance by your valour and bravery. My
sword, which I offer you, is of the finest metal, you may rely upon its
fidelity. I challenge you to mortal combat.”
Appadocca put himself in an attitude of defence, bent his left arm over
his back, raised his head proudly, and held his sword straight before
him.
Young Willmington was undecided: he seemed to be under the power of a
thousand different and conflicting feelings. There was no possibility of
denying the well-known family mark with which Appadocca was stamped; he
saw, consequently, before him his brother, by the laws which nature had
made, whatever he might be by those which man had framed, and was forced
to recognize in that brother the prosecutor, enemy, and almost murderer
of his father. He was divided between two duties, the duty which he owed
to a father, and that which he owed to a brother.
“I shall not fight with you,” he said after a long pause. “If you grudge
us any of his property, take as much as you please, but render us back
our father.”
“Will not fight!” exclaimed Appadocca, “I had imagined that your father
was the only selfish coward in an old race of reputedly brave men.”
“Coward do you call me?” inquired young Willmington, with a frown.
“Ay, coward,” answered Appadocca. “First you made a thrust at me when my
attention was directed otherwise, and now you seek to wound my feelings
by supposing the possibility that I could grudge you your father’s
wealth. Grudge, indeed! his most precious jewels would disgrace me. My
men, however—the friends that received me, shall enjoy it. Coward, ay,
thrice four times coward; again, and again, I proclaim you as such.”
“No more, defend yourself,” cried young Willmington, and he clutched the
sword which Appadocca had laid on the table.
Young Willmington warmly pressed on Appadocca who still stood on
the defensive. Thrust after thrust, lunge after lunge came in rapid
succession from young Willmington. Respiration came short and quickly.
He made a desperate thrust at Appadocca, who with a slight but quick
movement of the wrist at once disarmed his adversary.
Young Willmington bowed haughtily, while his face grew crimson with
vexation.
Appadocca quickly picked up the sword and presented it again to the young
officer.
“No, no, I am satisfied,” said the last-mentioned person, and refused it.
“You ought scarcely to be so, sir. Recollect this is the only chance
that will probably be afforded you,” replied Appadocca, “to recover your
father. Try it again.”
“Have you any object in pressing me to fight longer? By the law of arms
you are not justified in thus asking me again when I am defeated,” said
young Willmington.
“Perhaps not,” answered Appadocca, “but you must recollect this is a very
particular case. To be frank, I must confess I am scarcely satisfied with
the chance that I have afforded you, I like to satisfy justice, sir. Pray
try it again.”
“Strange man, I shall,” answered young Willmington, and then began to
prepare himself more deliberately for this second combat.
The swords were again crossed. Willmington no longer thrust so widely
as he did—he fenced more cautiously. Appadocca still maintained the
defensive. The combat proceeded but coldly—Willmington tried every
skilful pass and cunning trick. He had contrived to edge his sword, as he
imagined, imperceptibly to Appadocca, within but a short distance from
his adversary’s hilt, and was just inclining his hand inwards to thrust
home, when Appadocca met the inclination by an opposite movement, and by
a sudden jerk again unarmed his adversary.
“Sir, destiny seems to favour me at these. I presume you have pistols,
shall we try them?” inquired Appadocca.
“It strikes me you are longing for my blood?” remarked young Willmington.
“By no means,” answered Appadocca, “I have waded through too much of
that already. But I am willing to give you the greatest opportunity of
redeeming your father. Then am I to understand that you will fight no
more?”
“No more,” answered young Willmington.
Appadocca drew forth a small silver whistle, he blew it, and in a moment
the pavilion was again surrounded by his men.
“Sir,” said Appadocca, on the arrival of the men, “the safety of my
followers require that you should be rendered incapable of alarming the
town. You must consent to be gagged and bound. Ho! outside there.”
Three or four pirates entered the room,
“Gag and pinion him,” said Appadocca, and pointed to young Willmington.
In less than a few minutes the order was executed upon him.
“Take him to the remotest room in the house.”
Young Willmington was carried bodily out of the apartment.
“Ho! Jack Jimmy,” cried Appadocca.
That individual immediately rushed into the room, trembling with
excitement.
“Rummage the whole house, and bring all the silver and gold. Pedro, help
him.”
“Yes, massa,” Jack Jimmy answered, and hurried out of the apartment.
While Jack Jimmy and the other man were intent on searching for whatever
valuables the villa contained, Appadocca seated himself on the same chair
that still stood at the head of the table.
His eyes had become gradually more and more intently fixed on the two
beautiful children, who clung in wakeful unconsciousness to their pale
and still insensible mother.
They seemed actually petrified with fear, while their large interesting
eyes were firmly rivetted in a vacant stare on the terrible being whose
coming had brought so much horror to the happy villa.
“Yes, it is too true,” muttered Appadocca, “the sins of the fathers are
visited on their children. Were it not for the injustice of your father,
my little ones, I should not be here to-night to terrify you with my
fierce and unfriendly looks. If my heart had not been long seared, if
there was still in it one single portion that continued as fresh as once
the whole was, your silent looks, your unspeaking terror, would move me
more than the eloquence of a thousand glib-tongued orators. Nay, I might,
perhaps, forget my vow.
“How poisonously bitter are the cups that others season for our lips?
Still, may Heaven preserve in your minds the deeds of to-night, and when
you shall have grown up, always recollect this sad retribution, and speak
a word whenever you may be able, and say that you know, by the experience
of a scene of your childhood, that certain creatures who are branded and
repudiated by society are beings who possess feelings, and who claim the
same measure of justice as is meted out to all.”
“Me get all, massa,” said Jack Jimmy, who now came in with an air of
serious importance.
Appadocca rose and pointed to the door; the two men then walked off from
the villa, and were immediately followed by the captain himself.
The villa which, but a short time before, presented a scene of domestic
happiness, was now left in the desolation of death, with the lights still
burning, and the superfluity of luxury still scattered about. The gate
was heavily drawn after them by the three persons that had just passed
through, and silence settled over the place.
The pirates, who with their prisoner and booty, awaited the captain in
the road, were drawn up in order, and after saying a few words to an
officer, Appadocca gave the word to march, and they silently went down
the road. He himself remained behind.