Death of Admiral Powers—Five Years in a Mad House—Appointed
Lieutenant—Return to America.
In one of the most elegant houses, on one of the most fashionable streets
in London, sat two persons before a blazing fire. One was a young woman,
dressed in the height of fashion, yet scarcely twenty years of age. Her
countenance beamed with intelligence, as she closely watched the person
that occupied the old arm chair in the opposite corner. It was evident
from the appearance of her countenance that something was operating
upon her mind of more than ordinary importance, and from which she
seemed to shrink. She closely watched the features of her companion as
if determined to read his thoughts. This was Miss Powers. The other was
Admiral Powers, her father. He had passed his three-score-years-and-ten.
He sat in his chair, with a large heavy cane in his right hand. It was
hard to determine whether he was awake or asleep. His eyes opened and
shut at regular intervals, and his cane kept a continual thump-thump on
the floor. Occasionally he would turn his face toward his daughter, and
move the muscles, as if about to address her, then suddenly relapse into
his former state. If awake, it was evident that he was trying to conquer
some emotion. At length he brought his cane down as if to emphasize what
he was about to say.
Cora!
Yes, father, I am here.
Well, tell me something I don’t know! Tell me why Charles don’t come!
Ungrateful dog! I suppose he will call on everybody in London before he
thinks of his father!
No, father, you do him an injustice. He will come as soon as his business
permits.
Cora, you are impertinent. You charge your father with injustice. Have I
ever been unjust to one of my children?
I did not mean that father, I meant that you were mistaken. That Charles——
That fiddle-sticks! Remember, girl, that I am _never_ mistaken. That what
I know I know, and what I know is law.
I meant father, that Charles would be here, as soon as he accomplishes
the business he was sent on by Captain Davis.
Captain Davis has no authority over my son while on land. You forget that
I am Admiral here—Lord High Admiral.
I forget nothing, father. But Captain Davis sent Charles on a mission of
humanity and as soon as that is accomplished he will be here. An accident
happened to Lord Wallace at the wharf this morning.
Accidents are always happening him. I hope this time he got drowned in
earnest.
No, father, not drowned, but nearly so. If it had not been for a young
man that belongs to the Reindeer, he would have perished.
Curse the young man that saved him. He ought to have let him go and
become food for the sharks.
Oh, father, don’t say that.
Yes, I will say that! I say he ought to have been drowned years ago!
Didn’t he rob me of a son and daughter?
I presume he would say that you robbed him in the same way.
Presume, eh! What right have you to presume? (bringing down his cane,)
I’ll teach you to presume, you hussy! You charge your father with
robbing! (thump—thump.)
Oh, no, father, I don’t charge you with anything. I don’t mean anything.
I do. I mean everything, (striking the table with his cane.)
You must have been taking lessons from the red-skins in
America, and haven’t retained their manners. You are a regular
wild-cat—catamount—tiger—rattlesnake!
A servant enters and announces the arrival of Lieutenant Powers.
Send the contemptible dog in! he exclaimed in a rage.
Father, he is your son. Don’t call him a dog.
I shall call him what I please! I will!—I will!
The Lieutenant enters, and with extended hands approaches his father.
My dear father! How do you do?
How do I do? What do you care how I do? It seems that I am the last one
you think of. I learn sir, that you passed by me—that you called on Lord
Wallace—my most inveterate enemy!
You are mistaken, father, he is not your enemy.
Zounds! boy! You must be drunk or crazy! You would make me believe that
he is my friend?
Such is the case, father. He wishes to bury the past. He desires a
reconciliation between the families of Powers and Wallace. He wishes,
before he closes his eyes in death, to forgive and be forgiven.
That shows that he is a craven coward. Scared at the prospect of hell, of
which he had a slight view this morning while under water. That is the
cause of this sudden repentance, and will last as long as his clothes are
wet. No longer, boy—no longer. Have you no other reason why you believe
this repentance genuine?
I have, father, the best of reasons why I believe him sincere. Remorse,
on the one hand, and the hope of reward on the other, are the causes that
lead him to seek this reconciliation. Remorse for driving his children
from his home—Reward in receiving them back.
Receiving who back? exclaimed the Admiral, attempting to rise from his
chair.
The Lieutenant continued:——
In owning and receiving in his house and heart the son of your daughter
Amelia—the son of his son William—the representative of both families,
and is the only one living that has the right to call you grand-father.
Did you learn this on your last cruise to America?
I did—or rather on our return, replied the Lieutenant.
The old Admiral sank back in his chair, closed his eyes, and remained
silent for some moments. Occasionally he would strike his cane on the
floor and move himself about in his chair. The Lieutenant and Cora
watched him with interest. At last he opened his eyes and attempted
to speak, but instantly closed then again. It was evident that he was
struggling with his feelings, but he said or did nothing to commit
himself. A long silence ensued, then rising to his feet, said:
Charles, where is this person you were speaking of? Is it a boy or girl?
It is a boy—or rather man, father, and his name is Walter Wallace.
At the mention of this name, the Admiral turned red in the face.
Walter Wallace! he exclaimed. The name of my despised enemy. But what of
my son Thomas?
Dead? replied the Lieutenant.
His wife? gasped the Admiral.
Dead! replied the son.
They had a child named after—after—
Here his feelings controlled his actions. He was about to speak the name
of her who had been the companion of his youth—the wife of his bosom—the
mother of his children. It carried him back—yes way back to the time he
led his Amy to the altar. He remembered the first born of that happy
union. He remembered of dancing his little Thomas on his knee, and
hearing him speak those soul-inspiring words “Pa-pa.” He remembered of
this boy growing to be a man. He remembered of hearing him say “Father, I
love Mary Wallace, and for her I will forsake father, mother and country.
For her and with her I will go to America.” He remembered of saying, (it
still rang in his ears,) “Leave your home! Leave my house! Never intrude
your person on my presence again, or darken my door with your shadow.” He
remembered Thomas’s last words:
“Father, as you wish, so shall it be. Farewell, father, forever,
farewell.”
He remembered that he had learned that Thomas and Mary had a child. They
called it——
Oh, my God! he exclaimed. How can I speak that name?
You mean Amy, replied the Lieutenant.
Yes, I mean Amy, my grand-daughter. Is she dead also?
Walter Wallace believes that she lives, and that we shall see her, said
Cora.
At the sound of this name the Admiral fairly raved, and bringing his cane
down on the table exclaimed:
Curse Walter Wallace! Don’t mention his name again in my house! I was
inquiring about my grand-daughter, Amy. What do you know about her.
Nothing, father, but what Walter Wallace has——
Stop! cried the Admiral, raising his cane as if to strike Cora. I forbid
the mention of that name in my house!
But father, it is only through him that we can learn of Amy. Father,
request him to come here and tell us what he knows about her.
Request—ah—Do you think that I can make my voice heard across the
Atlantic in one breath? and that he could step from there here the next?
Father, said Cora, he is already here. It was he that plunged into the
river and saved the life of Lord Wallace.
He saved the life of Lord Wallace—ah—curse him! Curse the day he was
born! The old man fell back heavily in his chair, his cane dropped to the
floor, and his right hand sought the region of his heart.
A return of his old complaint! exclaimed Cora excitedly.
Admiral Powers is carried to his room, and the family physician is soon
at his side. He seemed unconscious, yet intelligence beamed in his
countenance. His eyes opened and gazed at the different objects in the
room. His lips moved as if trying to talk.
Raise me up, he said.
He was raised up. Then by a mighty effort he clasped his hands, closed
his eyes and said:
Let me pray.
That was a mental prayer, not heard on earth, but answered in heaven. For
nearly an hour he lay in the same attitude, his lips faintly moving.
Thus did Admiral Powers manfully fight his last battle. This battle was
between himself, his nature, and his God.
Doctor, said the Lieutenant, we await your directions.
The doctor replied:
I have no medicine that will cure this disorder. I can only direct that
you prepare for the change that must soon take place. Your father has but
a few days—perhaps hours to live. If he has any requests or bequests to
make, now is his time to make them.
Satisfaction smiled in his countenance. Intelligence beamed in his eyes.
He spoke:
Doctor, you are right. My malady is beyond your skill. The heart that
has beat for over sixty years, has burst. It can beat but a few times
more. The valves in the pump have weakened, and soon the ship must go
down. I want to float a little longer—just a little longer. For the last
hour I have been sailing over the seas of my boyhood, my manhood and the
channels of mature age. I can plainly see how, when and where I wrecked
all my earthly happiness, and as a guide to all others who are compelled
to embark on this sea, I hold up this chart: “Parents, always advise, but
never control your children in their choice of their help-mate for life.”
It was on this rock I struck, and on this rock lies my wreck, and under
this wreck lay my children. May God forgive me.
The pump is working better now. I hope it will not choke again until I
get my sails trimmed and my anchor ready to cast. Lieutenant, send for
Lord Wallace. Send for his and my grand-son. Tell them it is my dying
request. Send for my lawyer, as I have some changes to make in my will.
Now, friends, let me rest until they come.
The Lieutenant beckoned Cora aside.
Write a note to Captain Davis. Tell him that the Admiral is dying and
requests him to come here. I will see Walter and Lord Wallace.
The Lieutenant went directly to the home of Frost, where he found Walter
and Jones. Calling Walter aside, he said:
Your grand-father Powers has but a short time to live and wishes to see
you before he expires. Frost will show you the way. Enquire for Cora and
wait in the parlor until I come. I go to request the attendance of Lord
Wallace.
Will I be welcome? asked Walter.
Yes, responded the Lieutenant, and then left.
On arriving there, he met the party leaving to go on board of the
Reindeer. Taking Lord Wallace aside, he explained to him the situation,
and requested his immediate attendance.
I will go with you, Lieutenant, but first let me write a note to Captain
Davis.
That has already been done, replied the Lieutenant. Captain Davis will be
there.
But my grand-son. Where is he?
On his way to witness his grand-father’s death. But let us move on.
On the way they notified the family lawyer that his services were needed
at the Admiral’s.
He hung the green bag over his arm, and all three walked to the house of
death. Cora met them at the door and conducted them to the parlor, where
they found the family physician.
How is your patient, doctor? exclaimed the Lieutenant.
He sleepeth.
Dead? exclaimed the Lieutenant.
No, not dead, but sleeping quietly. We have nothing to do but wait and
watch. If he awakes from this sleep, he may live for some hours—perhaps
some days.
Again Cora goes to the door and admits Walter and his two friends.
This way, she said, and conducted them to the library. Then taking Walter
by the hand said:
You have arrived in time to see your grand-father alive. Follow me.
She opened the door, and by a wave of the hand ordered the servants to
depart.
Thus, child and grand-child were alone with the dying. His face was
flushed, yet there were no signs of pain or discontent. Walter’s feelings
were deeply aroused. Before him lay the father of his long dead mother.
The sight carried him back to the events on the Callicoon, where he had
often seen his mother, on bended knee, pouring out her soul to God in
behalf of him who was now dying before him. Where he had heard her say:
“Father in Heaven, forgive him; he knows not what he has done!”
Can I do less? Yes, grand-father, I forgive you. For my sake—for my
parents’ sake, I forgive you. And while life lasts, I will kiss the lips
that have often kissed my mother, and he instinctively bent over the
dying man.
Hist! said Cora. He wakes.
The Admiral opened his eyes and attempted to raise up.
Gently, grand-father, gently. Let me help you, said Walter.
Grand-father—who calls me grand-father? exclaimed the dying man.
This, said Cora, is Walter, the son of Amelia, the young man we spoke to
you about—the one that saved the life of Lord Wallace.
Then throw open the shutters and let in the light. Come closer, boy—come
closer. Let me look into your eyes before the wreck goes down. Yes, I
see. There are your mother’s soft, blue eyes, and your father’s manly
form. Where is the lawyer?
In the parlor, father, said Cora.
I wish to see him alone.
Jenks, said the Admiral feebly, have you brought my will with you?
I have it here, replied the man of briefs.
Add a codicil by which my children and grand-children share equally. Draw
a draft in favor of my grand-son, Walter Wallace, for one thousand pounds.
The draft was presented and signed.
Now get one of those blank commissions and fill it out in the second
grade.
It was a great effort for the Admiral to sign it on account of pain.
There, he said as he threw the pen down. That is my last official act.
Place the draft and commission in an envelope directed to Captain Davis
with directions that it shall not be opened until the morning of the day
on which the Reindeer shall start on her next voyage.
It shall be done, said the lawyer.
The Admiral beckoned them all to come near.
My earthly business is completed, he said. Now let me bid my children and
friends farewell.
The folding doors opened, and in walked the Lieutenant, followed by Cora,
Walter, Lord Wallace and Captain Davis. The Admiral extended his hand and
said:
My grand-son, can you forgive the wrong that I have done you and yours?
Yes, grand-father, Walter replied, in the name of, and in behalf of my
mother, I forgive you.
Did your mother speak of me? Did she bless or curse me?
She loved and prayed for you.
The old man, still holding Walter by the hand, fell back on his pillow
exhausted. In a moment he opened his eyes and extended his other hand.
My Lord, addressing Lord Wallace, I forgive. Am I forgiven?
God be my Judge! exclaimed Lord Wallace. As I hope to be forgiven, so do
I forgive you.
Then, said the Admiral, I will perform my last act, and I call upon all
present to witness my last words. Here, in the presence of my God and
these witnesses, I own and acknowledge the youth I hold by the hand to be
my lawful heir—the son of my daughter Amelia. Captain Davis, I resign him
to your care. Lay me down. My sails are spread for a distant clime. The
rigging is taut. My anchor is hove for the last cruise. Jordan’s waters
roll smoothly across the valley of death. Angels are my pilots. They know
the course and all the reefs and rocks under the swells. Angels lead me.
They are the children that went before me. They clasp my hand and press
it to their hearts. Yes, it is they—it is Thomas and Amelia. Cast off,
men—cast off! I am homeward bound. My eye is on the Polar Star. My anchor
holds—yes it holds——
Here his voice became inaudible, but his lips moved. His voice is heard
once more:
Peace, be still! and he fell back on his couch, dead.
The intelligence that Admiral Powers was dead soon spread, and before
sun-down the public buildings were draped in mourning and the shipping in
the harbor had their flags at half mast.
Lord Wallace called the Lieutenant aside:
The reception on board of the Reindeer to-night, I presume will be
deferred.
Yes, replied the Lieutenant. Yet it will be necessary for me to go on
board, as Cora informed me that Walter was to meet me there at eleven.
Why not meet at my house and bring Cora with you? By the way, where is my
grand-son?
He disappeared at the moment of my father’s death, and has not been seen
since.
What caused him to leave so abruptly? Perhaps he thought that the garb of
a common sailor was not in keeping with his present station.
I do not think that was the reason, my Lord. I think he was determined
not to leave the company of Tom and Jack. He has undertaken the difficult
task of keeping them sober while we remain in port. But here comes
Captain Davis.
A warm and friendly greeting took place between Captain Davis and Lord
Wallace.
I think, said Davis, that the three have gone to Frost’s house. Let us
join them.
Then they all started.
What is it, asked Wallace, that has caused this attachment between the
sailors and my grand-son? Let us step into this club house where you can
relate his history as far as you know it.
The Lieutenant then related Walter’s history, commencing with the happy
hours on the Callicoon, and ending with the death scene of his father.
During this recital, Lord Wallace became very emotional, and it was with
difficulty that he could suppress his feelings. When the mutiny on the
wharf was recited, he could not control himself.
Brave boy? he exclaimed. He is a hero well worth the name of Wallace.
The parties then went to the residence of Jack Frost, where they found
Walter and his two friends.
Jack had related to his wife and children the part that Walter had taken
in his behalf concerning the mutiny, and ended by saying that he and his
friend Tom Jones had pledged themselves never again to taste, touch or
handle rum.
At the time of the arrival of Captain Davis and party, Frost and his
friends were eating dinner. And here Lord Wallace had the opportunity
of seeing the fruit of love among the lowly. He could see there joy and
contentment that had never entered his house.
He thought to himself:
This is the way my banished children lived in the wilds of America. They
loved, and lived on love. Woe unto him that undertakes to thwart that
attribute.
This, said Captain Davis is your grand-son, and this is Lord Wallace,
your grand-father.
Walter extended his hand, but Lord Wallace faltered.
Can you, he said, take my hand and call me “grand-father,”—I who have so
cruelly wronged your parents—who so madly drove them from my house?
But not from your heart, Walter responded.
No—no, boy, throwing his arm about him. They have always occupied a place
there. They were forgiven long ago—yet I had nothing to forgive. I, and I
only was the one to ask forgiveness.
You were forgiven, and that forgiveness is recorded in heaven, where your
children now are. Your children loved and prayed for you.
Bless you, my son—may God bless you. And now, here in the presence of
these witnesses, I receive you as my grand-son and heir, the son of
Amelia and William Wallace.
Excuse me, said Lieutenant Powers, for this interruption, but the joy of
this meeting has caused us to forget our duty to the dead. We must make
arrangements for my father’s funeral.
The Navy will attend to that, rejoined Captain Davis. And as the object
of the meeting on board of the Reindeer is accomplished by the meeting
of grand-father and grand-son at this place, we may as well talk of the
future. I have learned that I shall soon be ordered to America. Will your
grand-son accompany me?
Certainly not, replied Lord Wallace. He will remain with me and take the
position in society that he is entitled to. And the first thing to be
done is to go to my tailor’s and dress himself in costume becoming his
rank.
Quick glances passed between Captain Davis and his Lieutenant. They knew
where Walter’s heart was. They knew that it was in America. They knew
that he would rather give up his new found relatives with all their
wealth and titles than to abandon his search for Amy. Walter saw the
dilemma he was in, and he declared his purpose at once. He said:
My Lord, my life has been one continual struggle, and the object of that
struggle has been to find my friends. That has been in part accomplished
to-day. But my struggle is not over—my mission is incomplete. I must
struggle on until I find my Amy.
At the mention of that name, Lord Wallace turned pale and fell back in
his chair.
Amy—Amy, what know you of Amy? Is my secret out? Tell me boy—tell me what
you know of Amy? Know you that Amy was your grand-mother’s name? Know you
that I drove her mad? Know you, that in driving my children from their
homes I drove their mother to her grave? Oh, my God! Oh, my God! I am
crushed! Amy, the companion of my youth—the mother of my children—driven
out—dead—dead—dead!
And fainting, he fell to the floor.
Surprise was depicted on all countenances but one. Walter now remembered
that his grand-mother’s name had never been mentioned, and whether dead
or alive he did not know. But from the anguish of his grand-father, he
was satisfied that the secret of his grand-mother’s death was purposely
kept from him. Had his grand-father added to his other crimes that of
murder? Had he killed the grand-mother of his Amy? If so, he would
denounce him and leave England at once. Captain Davis and the Lieutenant
were speechless. Frost eyed the old man with more than ordinary interest,
and Walter did not know what to say. Presently the fainting man revived.
Come here, boy, and sit close by my side. Let me tell you all, and then
let me die. The Amy you speak of, was my wife—your grand-mother. She
favored the marriage of your father to Amelia Powers. I forbid it, and
when I heard that they had defied me and set at nought my counsel, I
became outraged and lost my reason. I wrote to your father, forbidding
him ever again to darken my door. Fool!—brute I was, but I did it. My
wife interfered, and in my rage, I so far forgot myself as to strike her,
and order her to leave and follow her disgraced children. Not thinking,
knowing or caring for the consequences, I went to my room, and with
brandy, drowned my passion and eased my conscience. In the morning my
reason returned. I saw my mistake, and at once decided to apologize to
my wife and send for my children to return. I sent for my wife, but the
answer came back that she could not be found. On examination it was found
that her wardrobe, jewels and money were missing. On the table she had
left a note:
“Farewell, Walter, farewell until you forgive your children. Farewell. I
can sleep more sweetly on the bottom of the Thames than I can on a pillow
of down in your castle. Farewell.”
My eyes were now open, and I could see the iniquity of the great wrong
I had committed. Remorse choked me. Visions of wife and child haunted
me. The demons, devils and damned of hell pursued me. I fled—I knew not
where. The next five years was a blank. When memory returned, everything
appeared strange. The doors were bolted and the windows barred. I was in
a mad house.
On inquiry, I learned that during my confinement, but one person had
visited me. But who she was, or where she came from, none could tell. She
called once after my reason was restored, and on learning of that fact,
said “Thank God!” and left.
I immediately returned to my possessions, and instituted inquiries about
my wife and children. I learned that they were all drowned by a flood in
America, and that my wife was dead.
Not so fast, old man! ejaculated Frost between the puffs of his pipe. You
heard what is not true. Your wife was not dead.
Not dead? exclaimed his Lordship jumping to his feet. Not dead? How know
you that?
Now, old man, don’t get excited. Just sit down and let me tell you
something you don’t know. But before I start on this cruise I want to
be sure that I have got good bottom to anchor on and the right signals
to hoist in case of danger, and if you can see and know the signals, I
will weigh anchor and sail in. What do you say to that—jerking a piece of
canvas from the wall. Can you call that signal by name?
Amy—my long lost Amy! he exclaimed. Tell me—oh tell me does she still
live?
Now, old man, I told you I would tell you something you didn’t know, but
you must keep quiet. The best ships will drag anchor in a gale. So don’t
get up a breeze until we get clear of the headland.
My good man, don’t keep me in suspense. If you know anything of my lost
wife, tell at once.
That is just what I am going to do, but you mustn’t hurry me. It’s
dangerous to get in a great hurry. Many a ship has been wrecked because
some one has got in too great of a hurry. In fact, my Lord, I think that
if you hadn’t hurried things so fast this meeting would not have taken
place in my house.
Oh, good man, you torture me. Is she alive?
Well, if you will just keep still and give me time to think, I think
I shall be able to convince you. But an old salt like me, wants to
know that the ship is well-rigged, ballasted and manned before he goes
into a skirmish, and I think from that cloud and the fresh breeze that
comes from that door, that we shall have a skirmish, if not a general
engagement. You know, my Lord, that it is an old saying, that “When Greek
meets Greek, then comes the tug of war.” Now I don’t think that Greek
is going to meet Greek here, but the way that craft is sailing, I think
there will be a collision. Shiver my timbers, old man, but you must have
had a jolly time anchored in that mad house for five years. But it may be
a relief to know that during that time the craft you deserted was safely
anchored here. It is a short yarn and quickly told.
Let me see. I say, wife. It was twenty-five years ago to-night that you
heard something fall on the stoop, and on opening the door and looking
out, saw a well-dressed woman lying there. And now, old man, I want to
say here and now that sailors and their wives have hearts, and as long as
there is a cent in the locker or a crust in the cupboard, they will share
it with the poor. So you see, Mary saw this lady laying there and she
called:
Jack, she called, come and lend a hand to tow this cast-away into port.
And then Mary and I, lubber, lifted with all our might and main until we
landed her in the after cabin, and stowed her away in the lower bunk.
She appeared to be a well-built, clean-cut craft, about thirty years off
the stocks. Her eyes kept continually rolling, but her voice was silent.
We supposed that she was a woman of the street—some poor, unfortunate
creature, who had no home to go to. My wife said:
I don’t care, Jack, who she is, or what she is. We will take care of her
till morning.
She was now lying on her beam ends, and it looked as if she would remain
docked for some time. But presently, her sails began to flutter, and in
a short time she righted. She requested the privilege of remaining with
us for a short time and promised to pay us. She then informed us who she
was, and related the causes that drove her from her home, which are about
as his Lordship related. She and my wife fell in love with each other,
and from that day to this have been fast friends.
This house, at that time, was a rickety old thing. She bought it for us
and put it in its present condition. In addition to that, she purchased
these costly pictures. Besides, she took charge of the education of my
daughter. She was known to the world as Mrs. Winter. When she went abroad
she was disguised. It was she that frequently called to see you at mad
house. She is still alive, and under this roof. Mary, open the door.
The door leading to the adjoining room opened, and there stood Lady
Wallace.
My wife! My long lost Amy! exclaimed Lord Wallace, passionately throwing
his arms around her.
We will not attempt to describe the scene that this meeting and
reconciliation produced. Suffice it to say that he pressed her to his
bosom and prayed for her forgiveness.
Walter had been deeply interested in the narrative related by Jack Frost.
Before him stood his and Amy’s grand-mother encircled within the arms of
his grand-father. Tears of joy ran down her cheeks, and her bosom swelled
with emotion.
God is good! she exclaimed. Husband and child restored to me in a day.
Come to my arms, boy you are the picture of your mother.
Walter embraced his grand-mother, but was too full of emotion to speak.
Friends, said Captain Davis, let us return to the object of this meeting.
Does Walter return to America with me, or will he remain with you?
I have already answered and decided that question, replied Walter.
Although we have found the Amy my grand-father thought I alluded to still
there is another Amy, the daughter of Thomas and Mary Powers.
Is she living? asked Lady Wallace.
I do not positively know, replied Walter, but I think so.
He then gave the reason why he thought she was alive, and concluded by
stating that he intended to return to America and prosecute his search
until he was satisfied.
To this Lord and Lady Wallace consented. The reconciliation was complete.
It was arranged that Jack Frost’s wife and daughter should accompany Lady
Wallace to her old home and remain with her until Jack returned from his
next voyage to America.
We will pass over the incidents attending the funeral of Admiral Powers,
by simply saying that he was buried according to his rank in the Navy,
and followed to his grave amid the belching of cannon and the tramp of
citizens.
Both Lord and Lady Wallace tried to induce Walter to enter London
society, but he utterly refused. He even refused to change his sailor
suit for a citizen’s dress.
After making arrangements with his lawyer to look after his interest in
his grand-father Powers’ estate, he and Cora made a short journey to
France and Scotland, and returned a few days before the Reindeer was to
sail.
There had been many surmises as to what was contained in the package
handed by Admiral Powers to Captain Davis, with directions that it should
not be opened until the morning of the sailing of the Reindeer.
The morning for the sailing of the ship had arrived, and the Reindeer
presented a beautiful appearance, being neatly dressed with flags.
The men formed in little parties on deck, as the parting between husband
and wife, and parents and children was about to take place, among which
was Jack Frost, wife and daughter. In the cabin was the Captain, Cora
and Lord and Lady Wallace. The time for the opening of the mysterious
package had arrived. Captain Davis was about to break the seal, when he
discovered that Walter was not present.
Where is Walter? he asked. He has an interest in the contents of this
package, and should be present when it is read. Lieutenant, please call
him to the cabin.
The Lieutenant found him with Tom Jones, Jack Frost and wife.
The Captain requests your company in the cabin. They are about to break
the seal of the package delivered to the Captain by your grand-father
Powers.
Walter reluctantly obeyed the summons, for he had resolved on his return
trip to mess with his friends Tom and Jack.
The seal was removed and the package opened. Captain Davis read the
first, which directed the Bank of England to pay to Walter Wallace
£1,000. The Captain then read the second paper and handed it to Walter,
saying:
This was the last official act of your grand-father.
Walter took the paper, read it carefully and then remarked:
I am not worthy of this at present, Captain. Please take it, and when I
am able to perform the duties of that office, I will accept it, and not
before.
What is it? asked the Lieutenant and Cora in the same breath.
It is his appointment as Second Lieutenant in the English Navy, and
assigned to this ship, and he is qualified to enter upon his duties at
once, replied Captain Davis.
The whole party then congratulated him upon his appointment, and urged
him to accept. But it was not until his friends Tom and Jack put in their
oar that he would consent, and then it was only conditionally.
I accept this office for the present, but I shall resign it if it in any
way interferes with my plans in searching for the absent one in America.
I do not ask, neither do I consent that you should abandon the search you
have in view for that lost child, for something tells me that my lost
child will be found at the same time.
Bang! went the gun to give warning to those on shore to come on board,
and to those on board that the time for parting had come—when wives must
bid their husbands good-bye, and lovers renew their troth.
The parting between Walter and his grand-father was of the most
affectionate character. He conducted his grand-mother to the boat and
passed her to Lieutenant Powers. Lord Wallace followed, but before
entering the boat said:
I regret, my boy, that we must part on so short acquaintance, yet I
appreciate and approve of the motive that actuates you, and hope that you
will be successful. And in case you succeed in finding the girl, you can
assure her that she will be welcomed and received as my grand-daughter.
I doubt not but that your search will be thorough, and to that end, I
ask you to receive this package, and use the contents to further the
enterprise. And now good bye for the present.
Depend upon it, said Walter. The whole country between the Hudson and
Delaware Rivers shall be searched, and Amy shall be found if alive. But I
must detain you no longer. The vessel is moving.
As they sailed down the Thames toward the Atlantic, Walter’s mind
naturally reverted to the contrast between his past and present
condition. But a few weeks before, he was a penniless boy. Now he was the
acknowledged son and heir of two of the first families of the nation.
Then he was an invited guest on board of the Reindeer, dependent upon
the bounty of Captain Davis. Now he was a Lieutenant in His Majesty’s
Service. Then there were grave doubts whether he would be received by
his kindred. Now the relationship between them was established. Now he
had the opportunity and means to prosecute his search for Amy. Yet, he
thought, all this work and wealth without her is a bubble, that floats
for a moment and then disappears. But I forget the package handed me. I
wonder what it contains.
He breaks the seal, and within finds a £1,000 note on the Bank of
England, and on a piece of paper is written:
“Please accept this token of my regard. From your grand-father. I feared
that your manly pride and self-independence would incite you to reject
the gift, which would have pained me. Therefore I hand it to you at the
last moment. Take it and use it as you think best.”
We will pass over the incidents of the voyage between Europe and America,
as nothing unusual occurred. They had a quick and prosperous voyage, and
entered Philadelphia harbor just as the sun was setting, about the middle
of October.
By the time the ship was safely moored, it was surrounded by small boats
containing the friends of those on board, among which were surveyor Webb
and wife. Captain Davis met them at the gang-way and conducted them to
the cabin. After the ordinary civilities were over, Webb informed them
that after the departure of the Reindeer he had the bodies of the dead
mutineers buried in the potters field, and that Sambo was buried in his
own lot.
But where is my boy Walter? he inquired.
On duty, replied the Captain, but he will soon be here.
At this instant Walter made his appearance and saluted both Webb and his
wife with an affectionate kiss.
Father, he said, more than a father—how much I owe you. How can I ever
repay you?
Repay me? replied Webb. I am more than repaid now to see you dressed in
a Lieutenant’s uniform, and performing the duties of that office. This
gives me a satisfaction that money could not purchase.
Webb was then informed of the incidents that had taken place on the
voyage to England, Walter’s injury and unconsciousness, his return to
reason, his acknowledgement by both of his grand-parents, and that the
object of his return to America was to search for Amy.
And where do you intend searching? asked Webb.
The entire country between the Hudson and Delaware Rivers, replied Walter.
That is where I found you, and where you took your first lessons in
surveying. Had Amy been in those parts, we would have heard of her. I am
afraid, boy, that this will be a fruitless search. What reason have you
for believing that she is in those parts?
Instinct—not reason, tells me that she is there. I have seen her on
the mountain top surrounded with hawks, but protected by an aged and
intelligent Indian.
At this remark, Webb’s countenance brightened. It was evident that old
memories had awakened in his imagination. He was again surveying the
Minisink country and taking the grand scenery of the Delaware Valley, and
with confidence replied:
The mountain, the rocks and the hawks that you saw in your delirium, I
have seen with my natural eyes. It is in the Minisink country, and the
rocks that you describe are on the north side of the Delaware River,
three miles west of Machackamack, and near the camp of the Cahoonshees,
and the Indian you describe can be no other than Cahoonshee himself.
Cahoonshee! exclaimed Captain Davis and wife in the same breath. Why that
is the name of the Indian that sailed from London to America with me over
twenty years ago.
He promised to make inquiries about my lost boy. We landed him at the
Palisades at sun-rise one morning, and that is the last I have ever heard
of him.
I knew him well, replied Webb. He was the last of his tribe and lived
on the Steneykill. The Cahoonshees were a small tribe, and lived on the
mountains between the Neversink and Delaware Rivers.
And it is my determination to search that part of the Delaware Valley for
Amy, replied Walter.
Then remain on board of the Reindeer until you arrive at Kingston Point,
on the Hudson River, and commence the search from there. It will be
but four days travel to Hawk’s Nest Mountains, and then you are in the
country of the Cahoonshees.
The Reindeer remained at New York a few days, and then proceeded up the
Hudson to Kingston Point.
This was a sandy point of land extending out in the river. South of the
point were extensive mud flats through which flowed the Wallkill River,
of which the Rosendale is a tributary. The head waters of the Rosendale
was the north-east end of the Mamakating Valley, and about twenty-five
miles from the Delaware River. About one mile north of Kingston Point,
was situated a rocky island about half-a-mile long and four hundred feet
wide, and about a thousand feet from the west shore of the river, which
at this point is about one mile wide.
Opposite Kingston Point, on the east bank of the Hudson, was a small
settlement called Becktown. In after years a man by the name of Rhine
married a Beck. Then the place was called Rhinebeck, which name it still
retains.
About one mile from the shore was a large stone house in which Judge
Hasbrook lived.
The island above described was occupied by a man called Shell. He was
far advanced in years, and lived alone on the island and held but little
intercourse with the outside world. Why he lived a hermit’s life was
unknown. He lived by fishing and hunting. His garden furnished him with
vegetables, and drift-wood with fuel.
A few days after the Reindeer anchored, Judge Hasbrook gave a ball in
honor of the officers, and the principal part of the inhabitants were
invited. Walter was anxious to start on his contemplated journey, as
Tom Jones and Jack Frost were to accompany him. He felt no interest in
balls and parties, and would gladly have excused himself, but through the
solicitation of Mrs. Davis and Cora, he consented to defer the journey
until after the ball.
A large party had assembled at the Judge’s house, which included all
the beaux and belles for miles around, in which all seemed to enjoy
themselves except Walter. His interests were toward the setting sun and
the land of the Cahoonshees. He could not be prevailed upon to take a
part in the dance, but remained a silent spectator. Cora tried to rouse
him to at least allow himself to be introduced to the ladies present.
Failing in this, she took him by the arm and said:
Come, Walter, this will never do for a Lieutenant in the English Navy.
Come and take a walk with me. Let us go to the arbor and pick some grapes.
Certainly, he replied. That will be in keeping with my thoughts, and by
the moonlight they walked toward the grape arbor.
On the way they met Tom and Jack loaded down with the luscious fruit.
There, said Walter. Sit down and pick and eat. That is easier than to
climb after them.
I prefer climbing, and top fruit is the best, laughingly replied Cora,
and off she skipped like a young fawn.
Cora, said Walter, some lurking Indian might run off with you, and then
you would be cured of your romance.
[Illustration: CORA AT THE GRAPE ARBOR.]
Not a bit of it, she replied. I wish that one of the red-skins would
steal me. That would be romantic indeed. And to think that you and the
whole ship’s company would be hunting after me. That would be what the
sailors call a stern chase, and then she disappeared behind the arbor.
Instantly a blanket is thrown over her head, and she is carried, she
knows not where.
She supposed it was a trick got up by Walter to scare her, and to carry
out the joke, submitted willingly, and it was not until she found herself
laid in the bottom of a canoe that she awoke to a sense of danger. She
now realized that she was in a boat of some kind, sailing on the water.