THE CAPTAIN'S VISIT.--HOMEWARD BOUND.--BROTHER AND SISTER.
At last the expected draft arrived, and the party were to leave for
Halifax the next day in the Cunard steamer. La Salle had invited Captain
Randall to spend the evening in a private parlor of the hotel, and at
eight o'clock he was ushered in, and found no other guest save his first
mate, Mr. Blake, who was still first officer of the Mercedes.
The table was well spread with delicacies, and although some constraint
existed, the wine did its work, and soon Blake and Randall were laughing
and joking, as if no cause for ill-feeling existed between them. At
Randall's request La Salle gave a summary of their adventures,
concluding the recital as follows:--
"Thus passed the long days of our anxious drift, until your vessel
steamed back to her old sealing-ground, and we left forever behind us
our ice-built hut and the Deadman's Berg."
The effect was magical. The smiles faded from the faces of the guests.
Randall's lips were drawn and thin, his eyes fixed and glittering, and
one hand stole stealthily to his hip. Regnar, too, was pale, but not
with fear, and his hand grasped the hilt of the antique dagger.
"Let me help you to some of this, captain," said La Salle; and rising,
he uncovered a small dish before him, and taking from thence a pair of
Derringers, presented them at the head of his astounded guest. "Up with
your hands, murderer," he said, sternly, "or you die on the instant!" At
the same time Blake and Regnar seized him by the arms.
"What is the meaning of all this?" asked Waring, trembling and appalled.
"Dis no good, La Salle. No Injin hurt man in his wigwam, or strike when
he give 'em food," shouted Peter, angry at what he considered a breach
of hospitality; but both were unheeded.
"Why am I treated thus?" faltered the prisoner, whose trembling knees
could scarcely support him.
"Captain Randall, I have here a man with whom you have an account to
settle. He has been known among us as Regnar Orloff. His real name is
Regnar Orloff Hubel. Where is the money and other valuables which your
brother, Albert Randall, stole from two orphans, and was murdered for by
you, that you in turn might become the thief?"
"Mr. Blake here knows the story, for we have told him how we found the
corpse of his commander, with the skull pierced with one of your
murderous shells. We buried him in the berg; if you doubt it, behold the
tokens."
Regnar raised his hand: on one finger glittered the golden setting of
the native talisman; on the table he laid the sheathed dagger.
"Are you satisfied, George Randall?" said he.
The wretch glared around as if he would have destroyed all who
surrounded him; then he seemed to realize the futility of his rage, and
catching his breath with a fierce sob, he asked, hoarsely,--
"What will you have me do?"
Regnar stepped forward, and answered for himself.
"Give up the secret money-belt which you took from the person of your
victim, with its contents untouched, and secure to me compensation for
the sums taken by your brother. Your life I do not want, but if you
hesitate I will have both."
"What security have I for your silence?" asked Randall, more boldly; for
even his craven fears were unable to repress his naturally cold and
grasping disposition.
"Only our oaths, and the remembrance that my half-sister has slept
beneath your roof, and has borne your name, although it shall no longer
be a reproach to her."
"It is hers no longer. She married last week, after losing her first
beau somewhere at sea: but never mind; I must take your offer and your
word, I suppose. Let go of my arms. You may take my pistols from my hip,
if you are afraid of me." With these words he proceeded to unfasten his
vest, and from beneath it drew a water-proof bag of thin rubber, which
was tightly fastened with twine, and enclosed in a money-belt of
chamois-skins. "It is all there but ten thousand dollars, and that he
had a right to take," said he.
"What do you mean?" asked Regnar, with a softened look and glistening
eyes.
"Open and read for yourself," said Randall, moodily.
Unfastening the belt, Hubel untied the inner bag, and poured the
contents upon the table. A roll of bank bills fell upon it. There were
within twenty bills of the denomination of one thousand pounds each, on
the Bank of England, and a folded paper, which, on being opened, proved
to be a copy of the last will and testament of Paul Hubel. By its
provisions a sum amounting to about ten thousand dollars was given "to
my old and tried friend, Albert Perry."
"Al, put that ten thousand into this vessel last year, and I persuaded
him to put thirty thousand of your money in, too. We made money last
spring, and I kept trying to get him to buy all of her. He took a
dislike to your sister, and said he would hold on to the money until he
found you. Last summer he secured a passage on a vessel bound to the
Labrador, and only that he got sick, I believe he would have seen you
then.
"This last winter we had several quarrels about the money, but I never
meant to injure him until the day it happened. We were having splendid
luck, when he proposed that we should climb the berg, as he feared being
caught between the pack and the islands. We had to ascend on the
opposite side, and when we got to the top, we saw the storm brewing to
windward, and started to return.
"As we came along the ice-foot, I said, 'You're making money this trip
fast. Isn't that better than giving up everything to that sullen girl
and a half-breed boy?' Then he seemed sad, and said, 'George, you've
made a rascal of me; but, thank God, I've made up my mind to be true to
my old comrade at last.'
"'What do you mean?' said I.
"'I mean,' said he, turning to me, 'that I've sold out the shares I
bought with that thirty thousand, and I've got their money safe here in
this belt.'
"'But you don't mean to be such a fool as to give it up--do you?' said
I; for I was angry to think that, instead of the four shares I had
counted on all along, we should have but one in the division of the
profits.
"And then I taunted him with a fatal quarrel long ago, and he--well, he
taunted me with a crime that I thought no one knew. Says he,--
"'I'm not afraid of you. If the rope is ready for my neck, you could
scarcely live out the time, between the sentence and the gallows, if the
people of San Francisco once listened to your trial.'
"So one word brought on another, and at last he shook his gaff at me,
and made one step; and my blood was on fire, and I fired the carbine. He
never spoke.
"I don't believe I ever should have enjoyed the money, although at times
I felt as if I could hug myself when I counted it over; and I laid out
to go back to Baltimore, and go into business there. What am I to do
with the share in the vessel, and his money in the bank?" he asked,
suddenly.
Regnar rose, with his eyes red with weeping; but a sad smile wreathed
his lips, as he asked,--
"He was your only brother, and unmarried--was he not?"
Randall answered, hoarsely,--
"It is true, God help me! it is true."
"To all that is his, then, you are sole heir. I lay no claim to interest
or forfeit, and I wish that thrice the sum would restore him to life,
since even at the last he was not wholly unworthy of my father's
confidence and his children's love. Come," said he, turning to those
present, and taking from his breast a Bible, "repeat after me the oath
of silence and secrecy:--
"'We, who alone know of the circumstances attending the decease of
Captain Albert Randall, and the suspicions attaching to the part acted
therein by his brother George Randall, do solemnly swear that, except
under the seal of confession, or as compelled by the power of the law,
we will never divulge our knowledge or suspicions until after the
decease of the brother of the dead.'"
The oath was taken with due solemnity, and Randall rose to depart.
Blake, filled with anger and desire of vengeance, had preceded him. La
Salle coldly did as common politeness required, but Regnar saw that
sickness and mental torture had overcome the strong man, whose knees
trembled beneath him, as, with the curse of Cain upon him, he turned to
depart, without friends, far from home, and weary of life.
"It is not right, La Salle," said the boy. "I was unjust to _him_
although it is better for all that no eyes but our own saw him laid in
the Deadman's Berg. Let us give this man human sympathy; he is weak and
sick; let us see that he does not despair of the mercy and love of God."
La Salle could not but acknowledge the righteousness of this appeal,
and, followed by Regnar, hastened into the hall.
"Captain," said he, "forgive us if we have failed to treat you with
Christian forbearance, and believe that our hearts will retain your
memory, with sympathy for your heavy burden of remorse, if not with the
esteem that might have existed between us. The night is dark and cold;
let us help you to find a conveyance."
"I thank you," said he, feebly; "you are very kind--far kinder than I
deserve. No man can measure the remorse that burns within me, and yet
the world would say that you have let me off too easily."
La Salle rang the bell sharply, and a waiter hastened up from the lower
landing.
"Did you ring, sir?"
"Yes. Call a cab at once. Regnar, get my coat and yours. Mr. Randall, we
must see you safely home. Where do you board?"
"At the Albion; but you need not take that trouble. Ah, sir, I know your
fears; but my head is clear, and you need not be afraid that I shall do
anything rash. I shall not despair of the pardon of God, since I have
found some merciful pity in man."
The carriage was announced; the tall form was again erect, and the
voice, though husky with emotion, came strangely sweet and clear, as he
turned to go.
"I would that we might be friends, but I know it cannot be. My blessing
men would shrink from, if they knew what you do; but may God bless you
for your kindness to me." And standing motionless in the dusky passage,
they heard the footsteps die away in the empty corridors, and the rattle
of the wheels of the vehicle which bore him away forever.
The next day they took the steamer for Halifax, and arriving there, the
party separated, Peter and Waring going to St. Jean, and La Salle to the
home of his father in Baltimore, where Regnar also was bound, in search
of his half-sister. The parting was not pleasant, for the mutual trials
and dangers of the few days spent amid the ice had done more to cement a
strong and lasting friendship between the four, than years of ordinary
companionship would have done.
"Look out, Peter, when you get on board the Princess, for Lund has
secured such a story to tell, that he may pitch you two overboard to
keep you from spoiling it by your return."
"All light," answered Peter; "Capten Lund good man; see spirit, too,
sure enough. He see two men; he look 'gain, no men dere. He see you an'
me on _h_ice. Snow fall t'ick, an' he see us no more. What hurt we come
back? Much better we come back for all han's; you come back soon, I
s'pose, too."
"Yes, Peter," answered La Salle, kindly, "we shall come back soon, and I
hope next fall to be spending the moonlight nights with you on
Shepherd's Creek, and the duck-haunted reed-ponds of Battery Marsh. Good
by;" and going on board, the two friends went rather disconsolately to
their state-room.
Regnar still seemed ill at ease, as if he wanted to inquire about
something; and at last he said, abruptly,--
"Charley, what shall I say to my sister?"
"Say to her, Regnie? Why, that you are delighted to see her, of course.
You may add that you come to make her wealthy; that is not likely to
hurt your reception," said La Salle, philosophically.
"Yes, of course I know that; but--but about you, Charley. You know what
Randall said about--about her--"
"About her being married, do you mean? Why, my dear boy, say nothing. I
am resigned, and, I may say, almost glad that it is so. Neither was it
altogether an unexpected announcement, for I felt long ago that my first
impressions upon her susceptible heart had faded with lapse of time and
a low state of the exchequer. No, no, boy! be kind and loving to her,
for she has not your firmness of soul or depth of affection. I carry you
to her as my marriage gift. Is it agreed?"
"It is, Charley; and you will not let the caprice of a girl separate me
from my friend--will you, La Salle?"
"Regnie," answered the other, not without a touch of tenderness in his
tone, "the bonds which connect us are not the ties of passion, or the
calm preferences of the selfish world. We met amid a gathering of savage
and half-civilized men, and our acquaintance has ripened into friendship
amid many dangers and strange experiences. A doubtful and dangerous
quest still lies before you. I hope that you will not undertake it
without me to accompany you."
"You, of all men, are the one I should choose, and we will set out this
very summer to carry out my father's wishes;" and during the rest of
their journey little was talked of but their future expedition into the
interior of Newfoundland.
At Baltimore La Salle and his friend went to the home of the former, and
were received as men from the dead. Of course the papers were full of
sketches of their strange adventure, and wood-cuts of icebergs and seals
covered the paper-stands for a week; and then a horrible murder, and a
delicious bit of scandal in high life, closed the brief notoriety of the
friends.
Two visits were paid during the first week of their return. Both called
on the day of their arrival at Mrs. Randall's, and La Salle sent up his
card. After waiting a while, that lady, who was not without misgivings
as to what might be said about her matchmaking proclivities, sailed into
the room very richly dressed, and rather red in the face.
"I am happy to see you, Mr. La Salle, and to know that you were not
really lost, after all. Do you make a long stay in the city?"
"Don't waste unnecessary effort to appear cool and freezingly polite,
Mrs. Randall," said La Salle, calmly. "I am here on a matter of
business. I want Pauline's present address, as it is highly important
that I should see her at once."
"Dear Pauline resides at No.--Crescent Avenue, and is now, as you are,
of course, aware, the wife of Mr. Reginald Ashley, who is, as you know,
closely connected with some of our first families."
"Yes, I know he is first cousin to Green, the rich broker, who sometimes
invites him to dinners and parties, and makes it twice as hard for poor
Ashley to make his small salary at the custom-house pay his way."
"Well, I dare say Pauline has done as well, and even better than she
might have done, had not the poor girl had some one to advise her, who
knew the world and--"
"Threw away an heiress worth fifty thousand dollars on a clerk with
eighteen hundred dollars a year," interrupted La Salle, with a smile. "I
beg leave, Mrs. Randall, to introduce to you Regnar Hubel, her
half-brother, who comes to return to her her moiety of the fortune left
by her father. I did not come here," continued he, more gravely, "to
bandy bitter words, for you will ere long hear news from Newfoundland,
which, I hope, will teach you that hidden sin is never safe from
discovery, and that all injustice meets with its meed of punishment.
Adieu, madam."
Later in the day they called at the hotel, where the young couple were
passing the honeymoon. Slipping a _douceur_ into the hands of the
waiter, he introduced them into the suite without the usual presentation
of visiting cards. As the young bride swept into the boudoir in her
reception dress, La Salle stepped forward; for he knew that she had
already heard of his arrival.
"Charley--Mr. La Salle! Why--that is, how do you do? I was glad to
hear--"
La Salle interrupted the fair speaker, for the awkwardness and pain of
the interview were but too apparent.
"I did not come, Mrs. Ashley, to give you pain, or annoy you by my
presence. I come to fulfill a prophecy."
"To fulfill a prophecy? You speak in riddles, and I have never delighted
much in anything of that kind since I was a child."
"I may say, then, that I come to offer my congratulations, and to bring
you my bridal gift."
"A gift? and from you? Surely you do not mean to offer, and I cannot
accept it."
Regnar arose, and addressing the agitated girl, ended the painful
interview.
"You were the daughter of Paul Hubel, of Schleswig--were you not?"
"Yes, sir. I was adopted by the brother of Mr. Randall, who was the
friend of my father."
"Then, I assure you that my friend speaks truth. He has fulfilled a
prediction, and gives you a fortune, and the brother who shares it with
you."
The next few moments were spent in mutual explanations, and the young
girl, deprived of a mother's love in early life, sent away to learn
life's duties of strangers, and yearning during all her brief existence
for the affection she had never known, received the brother she had
never seen with an outburst of welcome which revealed what she might
have been, had her life been spent under happier auspices.
At last La Salle interrupted their mutual joy.
"I have finished my task, and the prophecy of Krasippe is accomplished."
"Yes," said Regnar, "last summer I met with an old Esquimaux who served
our father well for many years, and who now claims some power of insight
into the future. He heard the story of my futile efforts to find you,
but uttered this prophecy which we to-day accomplish. He said, 'You will
meet in a desert of ice the man who will lead you to your heart's
dearest wish. He will lose, and you will gain.'"
"And yet, Regnie, although the coincidence of events may bring me within
the purview of the Esquimaux oracle, I have a misgiving that we have,
perhaps, overlooked the claims of one whom we met but once in a desert
of ice, and who still voyages, in silence unbroken, ADRIFT IN THE
ICE-FIELDS."
End of Project Gutenberg's Adrift in the Ice-Fields, by Charles W. Hall