YULE LOGS
[Illustration]
BEING LONGMANS'
XMAS ANNUAL FOR
1898 EDITED BY
G. A. HENTY.
YULE LOGS
[Illustration: "An Indian sprang up behind him."
_Page 279_.]
_Longmans' Christmas Annual for 1898_
YULE LOGS
Edited by
G. A. Henty
With Sixty-one Illustrations
[Illustration]
Longmans, Green, and Co.
39 Paternoster Row, London
New York and Bombay
1898
_All rights reserved_
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
At the Ballantyne Press
CONTENTS
PAGE
A FIGHTING MERMAID. By KIRK MUNROE 1
_Illustrated by_ FRED. T. JANE.
THE VENTURE OF THE "BERTHA" WHALER. By HENRY FRITH 39
_Illustrated by_ W. H. OVEREND.
A FRENCHMAN'S GRATITUDE. By Lieut.-Col. PERCY-GROVES 74
_Illustrated by_ J. FINNEMORE.
THE BADGE OF THE FOURTH FOOT. By ROBERT LEIGHTON 115
_Illustrated by_ J. AYTON SYMINGTON.
A DANGEROUS GAME. By G. MANVILLE FENN 155
_Illustrated by_ C. J. STANILAND.
BY DEFAULT OF THE ENGINEER. By FRANKLIN FOX 203
_Illustrated by_ GORDON BROWNE.
THE KING OF SPAIN'S WILL. By JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON 236
_Illustrated by_ ENOCH WARD.
A NEW ENGLAND RAID. By E. F. POLLARD 271
_Illustrated by_ GORDON BROWNE.
SIR RICHARD'S SQUIRES. By CHARLES W. WHISTLER 310
_Illustrated by_ R. WHEELWRIGHT.
THE SLAVER'S REVENGE. By HARRY COLLINGWOOD 344
_Illustrated by_ TREVOR HADDON.
ON A MEXICAN RANCHE. By G. A. HENTY 383
_Illustrated by_ H. BIRD.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"An Indian sprang up behind him" _Frontispiece_
PAGE
"The strange tow, slowly making its way up the harbour" 13
"She hovered like a gigantic fish" 17
"Then two dripping figures scrambled aboard" 29
"The explosion, close under their bows, of a giant fire-cracker" 31
"The _Alfonso XIX._ lay in a glow of diffused light that seemed to
come from beneath her very keel" 33
"Threw the whole harbour into an uproar of terror" 35
"The captain, overbalanced, dropped overboard, and disappeared
in the raging sea" 43
"Hullo, my young spitfire! so you want a lesson, do you?" 47
"What are those black things, Mr. Stevens?" 54
"In the dim light two curious objects appeared" 63
"The end appeared near" 69
"I immediately ran forward to the scene of action" 77
"Our gunners hammered away at Rosetta" 85
"Very cautiously we made our way down the sand-hills" 91
"As the fog cleared off, there appeared before us the Turkish army" 97
"Our standing ranks gave them a rattling volley" 105
"I dropped senseless to the ground" 111
"Suddenly a fluttering book flew past his curly head" 117
"Turned up a rusty old claymore" 124
"Alan refused to accept this offer of friendship" 135
"Colin handed him the lantern" 146
"Neil? my brother Neil?" 151
"Whisked himself round and held his tar-kettle and brush out like
a pair of balances" 160
"Rev'nue cutter," said Hezz shortly 166
"A vigorous cut divided the fishing-line" 171
"A signal! came the next moment in answer" 181
"For there below him, lit up by a few lanterns, he could make out
the hull of a great lugger" 186
"Oh," he cried, "there you are, sir!" 193
"Master Lahnce, lad!" cried the old man, making a grab at the
boy's hand 201
"A quiet smoke" 205
"This is a pleasant prospect" 209
"Caught a firm grip of her dress" 214
"Uttering a wild yell, rushed off towards the nearest hut" 228
"Mr. Urquhart tried the effect of the nine-pounders" 233
"Ran his finger along a map of France" 242
"We are soldiers, not----" 251
"Not so fast, mademoiselle, not so fast. What are you doing here?" 254
The Rescue 265
"A friendship that eventually ripened--" 269
"I was afraid, and hid myself in the long rushes" 273
"Quiet! Josiah Blackstone" 287
"Be on your guard" 295
"With a shout of triumph she leaped into the water" 303
"He fell forward dead in the black swamp" 307
"He came heavily to the roadside grass, where he lay stunned" 311
"Sir Richard sat in his great chair on the daïs" 315
"I know where I am not wanted, at least" 323
"She seemed to care little" 327
"The next thing I knew was that my good steed was down on his
nose among the stones" 336
"We were met by a ragamuffin crowd of swarthy, black-haired,
fierce-eyed ruffians" 349
"A gang of some fifty negroes appeared" 367
"Borne aloft on a sort of rude throne supported upon the shoulders
of eight stalwart negroes" 371
"She waved her hand above her head by way of farewell" 375
"Before he could pull the trigger I had struck up the weapon" 380
"Horses, when required, could be lassoed" 385
"Was often away on horseback with her dogs" 389
"The great assemblage of all the cattle, known as the round up" 403
"Shot an unusually fine mountain lion" 411
"I struck Violetta sharply and she galloped off like an arrow" 418
"A loud shout burst from the bushes as he issued out" 423
A FIGHTING MERMAID
BY KIRK MUNROE
_Author of "The White Conquerors," "At War with Pontiac," "Through
Swamp and Glade," "With Crockett and Bowie," &c. &c._
CHAPTER I
It was a grand success. Every one said so; and moreover, every one who
witnessed the experiment predicted that the _Mermaid_ would
revolutionize naval warfare as completely as did the world-famous
_Monitor_. Professor Rivers, who had devoted the best years of his life
to perfecting his wonderful invention, struggling bravely on through
innumerable disappointments and failures, undaunted by the sneers of
those who scoffed, or the significant pity of his friends, was so
overcome by his signal triumph that he fled from the congratulations of
those who sought to do him honour, leaving to his young assistants the
responsibility of restoring the marvellous craft to her berth in the
great ship-house that had witnessed her construction.
These assistants were two lads, eighteen and nineteen years of age, who
were not only the Professor's most promising pupils, but his firm
friends and ardent admirers. The younger, Carlos West Moranza, was the
only son of a Cuban sugar-planter, and an American mother who had died
while he was still too young to remember her. From earliest childhood he
had exhibited so great a taste for machinery that, when he was sixteen,
his father had sent him to the United States to be educated as a
mechanical engineer in one of the best technical schools of that
country.
There his dearest chum was his class-mate, Carl Baldwin, son of the
famous American shipbuilder, John Baldwin, and heir to the latter's vast
fortune. The elder Baldwin had founded the school in which his own son
was now being educated, and placed at its head his life-long friend,
Professor Alpheus Rivers, who, upon his patron's death, had also become
Carl's sole guardian.
In appearance and disposition young Baldwin was the exact opposite of
Carlos Moranza, and it was this as well as the similarity of their names
that had first attracted the lads to each other. While the young Cuban
was a handsome fellow, slight of figure, with a clear olive complexion,
impulsive and rash almost to recklessness, the other was a typical
Anglo-Saxon American, big, fair, and blue-eyed, rugged in feature, and
slow to act, but clinging with bulldog tenacity to any idea or plan that
met with his favour. He invariably addressed his chum as "West," while
the latter generally called him "Carol."
The Rivers submarine boat, finally christened _Mermaid_, had been
evolved during long years in the great Baldwin shipyard located on the
Delaware, less than a mile distant from the Baldwin technical school,
and during his lifetime John Baldwin had taken a deep interest in its
construction. Thus Carl had been familiar with its every detail from the
time that he could remember anything, and had grown up with an abiding
faith in its possibilities. That his chum was also enthusiastic
concerning it constituted one of the strongest bonds of sympathy between
them. Now that its complete success had been demonstrated by four hours
of trial, during most of which time it had been manoeuvred under water
with a party of six distinguished engineers on board, Carl's elation was
only little less than that of the inventor, whose very life was bound up
in it. Like him, however, the lad was slow to express his deepest
feelings; but the enthusiasm of the day found ample vent through the
young Cuban, who had been permitted to share in the glorious result, and
who poured forth his exultation in a torrent of words as the two lads
left the shipyard and wended their way homeward.
"It is the crowning triumph of the century, my Carol, and will make
immortal the name of our honoured instructor. To have lived until this
day and to be allowed a share in such glory is a vast privilege. Of war,
what a revolution will be made! Oh, if my poor country possessed but one
of these marvels, how quickly would she be free! To destroy the ships of
Spain and open to the world every Cuban port! What an achievement! what
honour! Carol, why may it not be done? Why may we not take this
_Mermaid_, and with her liberate Cuba from her centuries of slavery?"
"Because," answered Carl Baldwin slowly, "she is not ours to take, and
even if she were, we would not be allowed to use her in any such
fashion. The Government would not permit us."
"But if she were ours. If the Professor would consent to allow us to
attempt the experiment. If we could escape the vigilance of the American
cruisers, and manage to convey our marvel of marvels to the scene of
action, would you not join in the enterprise, my Carol? Would you not
aid in striking the blow for freedom?"
"It would certainly be most interesting to test the little craft in
actual service," replied the young American cautiously.
"Interesting, say you? It is of vital importance. What she has done is
nothing. Who knows what she may accomplish? When will there come another
such chance for trying her in warfare? Where in the world is there a
prize to be gained equal in value to that of a free Cuba? That my father
has sacrificed all but life itself for her is my proudest boast; that I
may soon fight by his side, my fondest hope. Oh, if you cold-blooded
Americans could but witness the cruelty, the oppression, the despair,
the horror of it all. But, if I cannot win over my dearest friend among
them, how may I hope to persuade others? Ah, Dios! it is hard, it is
bitter, it is pitiful, that but for want of a single helping hand all
should be lost."
At this point the young Cuban's feelings so overpowered him that words
failed to express them, and as Carl Baldwin's policy was to remain
silent during these outbursts, the lads reached the school building in
which they lodged without further conversation.
Since Carlos Moranza had left home, the affairs of his native land had
come to a sorry pass. The struggle for freedom had begun. Spanish armies
devastated the fair island, killing its inhabitants, laying waste their
fields, and destroying their homes, while Spanish war-ships patrolled
its coasts to cut off all outside aid from the insurgents.
The latter, devoid of nearly everything necessary for carrying on a war,
save a desperate determination to resist to the death, occupied the
interior of the island, where they found impregnable strongholds amid
its rugged mountains and dense forests. The sympathies of the American
people were with them, and expeditions for their relief were constantly
fitting out in the southern ports of the United States. Many of these
failed to reach their destination, since international law compelled the
Government to prevent them from sailing, if possible. Thus, in addition
to the Spanish fleet patrolling the Cuban coasts, the southern waters of
the United States were guarded by an equally numerous fleet of American
men-of-war and vessels of its revenue marine.
From the very outset of the war Don Cæsar Moranza, after placing his
only daughter, Catina, who was two years younger than Carlos, in what he
conceived to be a safe retreat, had linked his fortunes with those who
fought for liberty. He had quickly risen to the command of a Cuban
army, and, as General Moranza, the dashing cavalry leader, proved such a
terror to the Spaniards, that to capture him became an important object
of their campaigns.
With all the impetuosity of his nature Carlos longed to take part in the
glorious struggle, and, in every letter that he found means of
transmitting to his father, pleaded to be allowed to join him. Thus far
his petitions had been denied on the ground that he would still have
ample opportunity for fighting after he had become a skilled engineer.
In the meantime he could do much for the cause where he was, and must
remember that to perfect himself in his chosen profession would be of
greater value to Cuba than the winning of a battle. This stimulant was
what made young Moranza one of the most brilliant scholars in the
Baldwin Polytechnic; for he felt that every problem solved was a blow
struck for his country. At the time of the _Mermaid's_ successful trial
trip, in which the young Cuban had been allowed to participate as a
distinguished reward of merit, he had received no word from his father
or sister for many weeks, and so was filled with anxiety concerning
them.
As the lads reached the school they separated, Carlos proceeding
directly to his room, and the other going in search of Professor Rivers
to report the safe housing of the _Mermaid_. The Professor was so buried
in thought that for a few moments he apparently took no notice of Carl's
entrance. Suddenly, lifting his head and looking squarely at the lad, he
exclaimed--
"Yes, yes, my boy, all is well so far as we have gone, but what will she
do in actual service? How will she behave in face of an enemy? Is she
capable of single-handed and successful attack against a fleet? Until
these questions are answered how may I know whether my lifework is a
success or a failure? To solve them I would willingly engage a navy in
single combat; but where may I find one willing to accept my
challenge?"
"Why not in Cuba, sir?" suggested Carl with a sudden inspiration.
"Cuba! Cuba!" repeated the Professor slowly, as though bewildered by the
idea thus presented, and then he plunged once more into abstracted
thought.
After waiting a few moments longer, and seeing that his guardian was
disinclined for further conversation just then, Carl Baldwin departed to
tell his friend of the seed he had planted. To his dismay he found
Carlos standing as though petrified, and staring with bloodshot eyes at
a telegram evidently just received.
"What is it, West? What has happened?" inquired young Baldwin anxiously.
"Read that," replied the other huskily.
With this he extended the message, which was signed by the president of
the Cuban Junta or War Committee, whose headquarters were in New York
City.
"General Moranza captured by treachery and shot by order of Weyler. His
daughter seized, imprisoned, and held for transportation to a penal
colony. May God help you in this hour of your affliction!"
"For my father's death I grieve not," cried the young Cuban. "He died
for the cause he loved, and may be avenged. But for my sister, my own
little Catina, in prison, at the mercy of those brutes, and consigned to
the living death of a convict! How may I bear it? What can I do? Tell
me, my friend, for I am going mad."
"No," cried Carl Baldwin, "you shall not go mad, nor even yield to
despair, for we will yet save her. The Professor shall go with us, and
we will take the _Mermaid_. Even now he is inclined to consider some
such undertaking. And when he reads this message he will be as ready to
set forth as you or I. Oh yes, my dear fellow, we can rescue her and we
will. Instead of going to a penal colony, she shall come to this
country, and be as free as you are at this moment."
As he spoke the young American seized his friend's hand, and the latter
looking into the brave blue eyes, now blazing with excitement, believed
that Catina would be saved.
CHAPTER II
The submarine boat _Mermaid_ was a cigar-shaped shell of aluminium
bronze, extremely light and strong, about forty feet in length and eight
in greatest diameter. On its upper side was a small railed platform or
deck, from the centre of which rose a low turret provided with four
bull's-eyes, from which an observer might glance out ahead, astern, or
on either side. Another bull's-eye was fitted into the hinged and
water-tight cap that closed the turret when the boat was submerged.
The interior of the boat was divided into three compartments. Of these,
the one farthest forward was fitted with an air-lock, through which a
person wearing a diver's suit might leave the vessel while she was under
water and return to her at will. This hold was also pierced for a
bull's-eye through which could be made to shine an electric search light
of intense power.
The central compartment was the living and operating room. It also
contained a dynamo, an air compressor, and a small condenser, by means
of which sea-water could be made drinkable. In the after compartment was
located a compact but powerful gasoline engine. This furnished the
motive power for running on the surface, and also stored electricity by
which the screw could be turned when surface air was no longer
available. Beneath the floor of the central compartment was a tank for
water ballast, which could be filled or emptied at will of the operator.
In all parts of the boat were hundreds of tubes, wires, cocks, valves,
and other devices of amazing ingenuity for ensuring the safety of her
crew and the discomfiture of an enemy.
She was indeed, as Carlos Moranza had said, one of the crowning
scientific marvels of the century. On the day succeeding that of her
trial trip, the young Cuban was full of hope and courage, for Professor
Rivers had been won to his cause by the enticing prospect of achieving
the rescue of a young girl from a dreadful fate, and at the same time
testing under most trying conditions the powers of his beloved boat. He
had only stipulated that she should not be used for the destruction of
either life or property.
Thus it happened that in less than a week one of the most powerful tugs
on the Delaware cleared for Havana. She had in tow a great dumping scow,
such as is used in New York harbour for conveying the city garbage far
out to sea. This scow was built with a long central pocket, the bottom
of which was longitudinally divided into two parts. Each of these was
hung on massive hinges, and could be made to drop or open outward, thus
allowing the contents of the pocket to fall into the sea. Then, by means
of a donkey-engine, the great valves could be drawn up and closed as
before.
The question of how to get the _Mermaid_ to Havana had proved most
puzzling. She was too small to undertake such a voyage by herself, and
had she been shipped on the deck of another vessel, her every movement
would have been watched and heralded, while the success of the proposed
expedition depended upon its secrecy. Thus, at the very outset, the
would-be rescuers seemed to be confronted by an insurmountable
difficulty. Then Carl Baldwin had thought of the sea-going dumping
scows, several of which had been built in his father's shipyard, where
one recently completed even now awaited a purchaser.
"Why couldn't we take the _Mermaid_ to Cuba in it?" he suggested, after
several other plans had been dismissed as impracticable.
"The very thing," cried Carlos Moranza. "In that way we could carry her
right into Havana harbour, and there offer the scow for sale to the
Spaniards as a blind. It is a noble idea, my Carol, and will prove our
salvation."
"It might be done," said the Professor thoughtfully. "Let us go and take
some measurements."
This they did, and found that the pocket of the dumping scow was amply
large to hold the _Mermaid_, at the same time allowing her free egress
and exit. It would even float her when closed and half filled with
water. Only a few alterations that readily suggested themselves to the
Professor were needed to exactly suit the great craft to their purpose.
While he took charge of these, and Carlos took a trip to New York for
consultation with the President of the Cuban Junta, Carl Baldwin
arranged for the charter of the finest sea-going tug on the Delaware,
and through her captain for the purchase of the dumping-scow.
The Professor had long since placed the practical direction of his
school in the hands of able assistants, so that he was free to leave it
at a moment's notice for any length of time. Thus, when he announced
that he was about to devote a few weeks to the testing of his pet
invention, and should need the assistance of his two ranking pupils,
their departure was effected without arousing undue curiosity.
The clearing of the tug, with its novel tow, for Havana, was, however,
quite another thing; and, from the moment their destination was
announced, both craft were watched by Government officials and Spanish
spies to see that no contraband cargo was taken aboard. Of course
nothing of the kind was found; but this did not prevent a revenue cutter
from escorting the tow down the river and across Delaware Bay until it
was clear of the breakwater and well out at sea. Finally, the cutter
turned back; but even then her commander continued to watch the tow
through a glass.
"In spite of their seeming innocence, I regard that as one of the most
suspicious departures ever made from the Delaware," he remarked to a
lieutenant who stood beside him. "The pretence of trying to sell that
scow in Havana is only the baldest kind of a bluff. Any fool knows that
those blooming Spaniards aren't going to put themselves to either the
expense or trouble of carrying garbage out to sea so long as they can
dump it in their harbours. Hello! What's that? Look quick and tell me if
you don't see something between us and them."
Through the glass thrust into his hand, the lieutenant took a long and
comprehensive survey of the intervening waters.
"No, sir, I don't see anything," he reported at length.
"Neither do I now," said the other after another look. "I would have
sworn, though, that I saw something like a raft moving towards that
scow."
The commander had indeed caught a glimpse of the _Mermaid_ rising to the
surface to get her bearings, but she had instantly dived, nor did she
again visit the surface until safely within the shadow of the great
scow.
She had run down the river the night before, and had lain behind the
breakwater with only a small portion of her turret above the surface,
until the tow, with its accompanying cutter, had passed out to sea. Then
she followed, with her eyes just awash, and dove deep beneath the
revenue vessel when it turned back. Upon next coming to the surface, she
had been allowed to rise a little too far, and so was very nearly
discovered.
"It was a close shave," admitted Carl Baldwin, after the _Mermaid_ was
safely ensconced within the closed pocket of the great scow; "but a safe
miss is as good as a thousand miles, and now we are all right till we
get to Havana."
"Don't you be too sure of that," admonished the captain of the tug
gruffly. "There's many a cruiser between here and there, and every one
of 'em is sartin to board us."
So it proved. At Charleston, where the tug put in for coal, leaving her
tow in the lower bay, the scow was boarded by revenue officers, who did
not leave her until she was again at sea; and all the while the poor
little _Mermaid_ was dodging about under water, only coming up now and
then for a breath and a quick glance at her surroundings, like a hunted
sea-fowl.
Off the mouth of the St. John's River, the tow was hove-to by a blank
shot from a Government cruiser, and again was the _Mermaid_ forced to
seek safety at the bottom of the sea. This time she avenged herself by
rising directly beneath the cruiser, and demonstrating to the
Professor's entire satisfaction how easily he could if he chose place
and fire a torpedo that would blow her from the water.
It had been decided to touch at Key West, the most southerly extremity
of Florida, as well as of the United States, and only eighty-five miles
across the Gulf Stream from Havana, and finally, after many narrow
escapes from discovery, our adventurers reached the port of that quaint
island-city in safety.
Here they found several American men-of-war, a small fleet of
torpedo-boats, four revenue cutters, and a Spanish cruiser, to all of
whom the strange tow, slowly making its way up the harbour, seemed an
object of especial interest. Their fame had preceded them; every one
knew that they were bound for Havana, and that they had been objects of
suspicion all the way down the coast. So, before they came to anchor,
they were boarded by United States officers, and a guard was placed on
both tug and scow, with orders to allow no communication between them
and the shore, except under strict surveillance.
In the meantime, the little _Mermaid_ had sunk quietly out of sight,
nor did she again rise to the surface until safely beneath a wharf
covered with freight sheds, that extended out to deep water. Here,
hidden in deepest shadow, she lay unobserved until nightfall, when our
lads found no difficulty in gaining the streets of the town, leaving the
Professor in charge of his beloved boat.
As Carlos Moranza had visited Key West before, he led the way without
hesitation amid throngs of promenaders, among whom white was the rarest
colour to be seen. Coal-black negroes from Jamaica, sallow-complexioned
Spaniards, swarthy Cubans, mulattoes, quadroons, octoroons, and Creoles,
with faces tinted in every shade of brown or yellow, jostled each other
on the side-walks, all talking, singing, or laughing, with eager
gesticulations. Electric lights gleamed among the softly nestling leaves
of tall cocoa-palms. Open carriages, bearing cigarette-smoking men in
white linen, gaudily-clad negresses, or languid Cuban women, whose only
sign of animation lay in their flashing eyes, rattled over the white
pavements, while, above all, innumerable flags, displaying the blue and
white stripes, the crimson field and single white star of Cuba Libre,
fluttered in the faint night breeze.
The entire city, which is wholly Cuban in sympathy, as well as
two-thirds so in population, was rejoicing over the news just received
of an insurgent victory. The exulting throngs were most dense about the
building occupied by an agent of the Cuban Junta, on a balcony of which
the glad tidings were being read aloud from a paper just snatched off
the press, while a guard stationed at the main entrance forbade
admission, except to such persons as were of well-attested patriotism.
"Halt! You may not pass!" cried one of these, as our lads, having forced
their way through the crowd, sought to enter.
For answer Carlos Moranza spoke a few words in so low a tone that only
he might hear them.
[Illustration: "The strange tow, slowly making its way up the
harbour."]
Instantly the man stood aside, touched his cap respectfully, and
motioned them to enter.
As they did so, a third person attempted to pass the guard in their
company, but was seized on the threshold.
"Is this hombre of your party, señor?" asked the guard.
"Certainly not," replied Carlos. "I never saw him before."
So the intruder, who was evidently of Spanish blood, was ignominiously
thrust back, and as he slunk away he muttered words that boded no good
to Carlos Moranza, in case they should again meet.
In the meantime the young Cuban, accompanied by Carl Baldwin, made his
way to the balcony where the agent of the Junta had just finished
reading of Garcia's victory. As Carlos touched him on the shoulder he
turned quickly and frowned at sight of a stranger. Again the lad
whispered his magic formula, and in another moment the agent was
embracing him with the fervour of a life-long friendship. Then he led
his guests to a private room, where for half-an-hour he engaged Carlos
in earnest conversation, of which young Baldwin could only understand an
occasional word.
When our lads finally left the building and regained the street, the
latter asked curiously, "What was it all about, old man?"
"He said," replied Carlos, "that the Spanish cruiser now in port is here
for the express purpose of escorting us to Havana, and that, as soon as
we are outside Key West harbour, she will place a guard on both tug and
scow."
"Hm!" remarked Carl Baldwin reflectively; "we can't allow that."
"I should say not," agreed Carlos Moranza; "only I'd like to know how we
are to prevent it."
"Just you leave it to me, and I'll show you the trick," rejoined the
young American.
CHAPTER III
So intent were the lads upon their conversation, that they mistook
another freight shed for the one beneath which the _Mermaid_ was hidden,
and walked a few paces beside it before discovering their error. When
they did so, they at once began to retrace their steps, and in turning a
corner of the building came plump upon a cloaked figure evidently on
their trail.
"Hello! what do you mean, sir, by following us?" cried Carl Baldwin,
seizing the stranger's arm as he spoke.
With a muttered oath the man wrenched himself free and darted away, but
not before the gleam of a street light had revealed his features to
Carlos Moranza.
"The very fellow who tried to force his way into the quarters of the
Junta!" he exclaimed, "and more than likely a Spanish spy. It is a
narrow escape, my Carol, for if our blunder had not forced us to turn
back, he must have discovered the _Mermaid_. In that case we should
indeed have met with trouble."
"Let us hasten, then, before he returns."
"I don't believe he will dare do that. He is too badly scared."
But the spy did return, and, crouching in deepest shadow, became
convinced that those whose business he was so anxious to discover had
passed beneath the wharf. As he dared not attempt to follow them through
the impenetrable gloom into which they had disappeared, he sought a
hiding-place, and from it watched with infinite patience for them to
again come forth.
They had, in the meantime, safely regained the snug living-room of the
_Mermaid_, and reported all that had happened, to the Professor. Then
Carl Baldwin unfolded his scheme for delaying the Spanish cruiser in
port until after their departure.
As a result, the submarine boat was allowed to drift down the harbour
with the ebbing tide, until she came abreast the great black hull of a
man-of-war. Then she imperceptibly sank beneath the surface.
[Illustration: "She hovered like a gigantic fish."]
The watch officer of the Spanish cruiser, leaning on her after-rail and
gazing musingly down into the dark waters sweeping seaward, speculated
idly concerning the stream of phosphorescent light tailing out from
under her counter, but thought of it only as a natural phenomenon. Had
he known that it was caused by the motion of the _Mermaid's_ propeller
necessary to hold her in position against the stream while she hovered
like a gigantic fish directly above the screw of his ship, how easily
could he have won the promotion for which he longed. But he suspected
nothing; and as Carl Baldwin, working from the diving chamber of the
submarine craft, had succeeded in fastening one end of a short length of
stout wire rope to the propeller blade, and shackling the other to a
ring-bolt in the massive rudder, the officer turned with a sigh and
walked away.
On the following morning the Spanish spy, weary and cramped with his
long vigil, was amazed to see an utter stranger emerge cautiously from
beneath the wharf he had been watching, and walk quickly away. For a
moment the spy was undecided as to whether he should follow this person
or seek to discover where he had come from. Then choosing the former
course, he followed Professor Rivers at a respectful distance, until he
had the vast satisfaction of seeing him meet, near the custom-house, the
captain of the tug that was avowedly bound for Havana.
There was a connection then between those who hid beneath the wharf and
the suspected tow anchored in the harbour. Undoubtedly a store of
contraband goods was concealed under the wharf, and an effort would be
made to convey them on board the tug before she sailed. What a reward
was in prospect for him could he but discover it!
A little later the spy, with two companions, all armed, occupied a skiff
that made its way cautiously through the dark spaces beneath the wharf
he had watched so long. Suddenly between them and the outer daylight two
men appeared one after the other. Both slid down one of the piles
supporting the pier and dropped into the water, or at least the exulting
spy thought they did so as he hastily urged his boat in that direction.
To his amazement and disgust, when he reached the spot where they had
disappeared, he could discover no trace of them. Neither was there a
boat or a hiding-place into which they could have gone. The man was
furious at being thus baffled, and uttered many a fierce Spanish oath.
Finally, convinced that further search in that direction was fruitless,
he pulled out into the harbour to watch the mysterious tow that still
lay at anchor. As he drew near to it he saw its captain come off from
shore alone. Then the guard from one of the revenue cutters was
withdrawn, anchors were lifted, and the tow began to move slowly down
the channel. It was certain that no one save the captain had gone
aboard, nor had any cargo been taken in except a few tons of carefully
examined coal.
Never in his life had the spy been so puzzled and disappointed; but it
was a slight consolation to know that Spain's vigilant cruiser would
accompany the _Gringos_ to Havana. Even now was the black-hulled warship
preparing to follow the departing tow. As the massive anchor broke away
from the bottom, her great screw began to churn the water, and she
slowly forged ahead. Suddenly her screw ceased to act, she took a sheer
in the wrong direction, there was a vast amount of confusion on her
decks, and in another minute she was fast aground on a bank of the
narrow channel. Every eye in Key West harbour was fixed upon her, and
before any one again thought of the departing tow, it had gained the
high seas, and was beyond the jurisdiction of either Spain or "Uncle
Sam." A little later, with the saucy _Mermaid_ safely hidden in the
ample receptacle of the great dumping scow, the tow had vanished in the
direction of Havana.
That night the spy boarded a swift passenger steamer bound for the same
port, which at sunrise of the following morning passed beneath the
frowning walls of Moro Castle in company with the tow he had come to
watch.
The _Mermaid_ retained her berth even after a pilot had boarded the tug,
and her crew looked eagerly upon the wonderfully beautiful scene
unfolding before them as they passed through a narrow entrance into the
broad, landlocked harbour of Havana.
Carl Baldwin, to whom everything was excitingly novel, viewed with
delight the grim Moro with its tall lighthouse tower, the white Cabanas
fortress, the tinted, flat-roofed buildings of the city across the
placid basin, the quaint cathedral spires, and the thousand other
curious features of Spain's chief stronghold in the New World.
Carlos Moranza, filled with conflicting emotions at again approaching
his native land under such strange conditions, gazed in silence, but as
though hoping with the very intensity of his vision to pierce the
crowding walls and discover the prison of his beloved sister.
Professor Rivers had eyes only for the warships, of which the harbour
held half-a-dozen, as he speculated upon the ease with which his little
_Mermaid_ could humble their pride and render them powerless.
At this very moment the Spanish spy was regarding, and triumphantly
recognising, all three of the Americans through a glass levelled at them
from the deck of the steamer on which he was a passenger. Thus it
happened that, as the captain of the tug was preparing to go ashore and
make formal entry at the custom-house, after having successfully passed
examination by both health officers and port authorities, two barges
filled with soldiers dashed out from the mole and headed directly
towards the new arrivals. One of these took possession of the tug, while
the other, in which sat the exulting spy, ranged alongside the dumping
scow.
For nearly an hour the soldiers searched every compartment and corner of
the two vessels, even overhauling the coal in the tug's bunkers. When
there was no longer an unexplored crevice, even the spy was forced to
confess that there was no person aboard unaccounted for in the tug's
papers, and that he must have laboured under a delusion as to what he
had seen. He was bewildered, mortified, and angry, and was rendered
furious by the ridicule heaped upon him by the officer to whom he was
obliged to report his failure to discover anything that would justify a
seizure of the tug.
This craft the Spaniards would have been glad to possess, but when its
captain went ashore and announced his desire to dispose of the dumping
scow, the authorities only laughed at him, and referred him to General
Weyler, who happened at that time to be absent with an expedition to the
interior. This was gratifying information, as it afforded an excuse for
remaining in Havana harbour until he should return.
In the meantime the _Mermaid_, having sunk out of sight on the approach
of danger, had found safe refuge under the stern of a Spanish man-of-war
that was moored close at hand. Here she received a supply of fresh air
through a flexible tube, one end of which was supported on the surface
of the water by a small float. During the time that her occupants were
thus compelled to remain in hiding, they amused themselves by so wedging
the rudder of the warship as to render it immovable.
With the earliest twilight of that evening they returned to the tug and
held a short consultation with her captain, who had used his eyes to
such good purpose while on shore that he was enabled to direct them to a
place from which he believed they could gain the city streets. This was
most important, for though in the darkness they might have landed
anywhere along the quay, they would still have been shut off from the
streets by a tall and stout iron fence, the gates of which were always
guarded, and at sunset locked for the night. This is in accordance with
a regulation that not only forbids any vessel to enter or leave the port
of Havana between sunset and sunrise, but also prohibits all
communication between the city and its harbour during the night.
The place indicated by the captain was a dock in which lay a number of
fishing craft, and the entrance to which was closed by iron gates. As it
was not likely that these extended very far below the surface, it was
possible that the _Mermaid_ might pass beneath them. This proved to be
the case; for when, after a long search and several narrow escapes from
discovery, the dock was reached, the _Mermaid_ managed to squeeze under
the barrier, and when she next rose to the surface she was inside the
city lines. Here she remained with her deck just awash, and in charge of
the Professor, while the two lads, filled with hopeful excitement, set
forth in search of information that should guide their future action.
CHAPTER IV
The part of the city in which our lads found themselves was dark and
deserted, save for an occasional soldier pacing a lonely beat and a few
slouching figures that seemed trying to avoid observation. At the
suggestion of Carlos they kept the middle of the ill-paved streets, for
in Havana no one uses the narrow side-walks at night. To do so would be
to invite a knife-thrust from the first dark _pasadizo_. Even in the
more open spaces that they sought, each lad kept a hand in the pocket
containing his revolver, and they took care not to allow any person to
approach them closely from behind.
At length they came to a region of plazas and lighted thoroughfares, in
which they encountered ever-increasing numbers of beggars and soldiers.
The former were pitiable objects, horribly emaciated by the starvation
which Spain was deliberately inflicting on her rebellious subjects,
while most of the soldiers were mere boys, ill-fed, poorly clad, and
wasted by sickness, but well armed and insolent to all save their own
officers. These latter, who swaggered by in noisy, cigarette-smoking
groups, seemed the only well-fed persons in the city, as well as the
only ones who still found life worth the living. They stared impudently
at our lads, and more than one, recognising Carl Baldwin as an American,
treated him to insulting epithets, most of which he fortunately failed
to understand.
Not knowing whom they might question, or even address with safety, the
young adventurers finally turned into the brilliantly-lighted café of
the Pasaje, where they hoped to gain some guiding clew from chance bits
of conversation. The place was so crowded that for several minutes they
failed to find vacant seats at any of the little tables scattered about
the floor. At length they secured two that had just been vacated, and
slipped into them. Two other seats at the same table were occupied by a
supercilious-looking Spanish officer and a fashionably-attired civilian.
The former, with an expression of deepest hatred cast toward Carl
Baldwin, slowly rose, reversed his chair with a loud scraping on the
marble pavement that attracted general attention, and reseated himself
with his back turned squarely toward the young American. The latter had
suspected the nature of the insulting epithets applied to him in the
streets, but had been unable to reply to them on account of his limited
knowledge of Spanish. With enforced silence his anger had smouldered
until now, when it broke into a sudden fierce heat. Acting upon the
impulse of the moment, he lifted his own chair, planted it in front of
the Spaniard, deliberately reoccupied it, and stared his enemy full in
the face, but without uttering a word.
As Carlos Moranza realised his companion's intention, he started towards
him, but was detained by the fourth man who had been seated at the
table, and who whispered hurriedly--
"Fly for your life, amigo, while there is yet time. For a Moranza to be
arrested in Havana means sure and speedy death."
"But I cannot leave my friend," gasped the young Cuban, bewildered at
being thus promptly recognised where he believed himself to be unknown.
"He will only suffer imprisonment. They dare not kill him. His
Government is too powerful."
For a moment Carlos Moranza hesitated. Then his resolution was taken.
"I cannot desert him," he cried; and, gaining the place where Carl
Baldwin sat, he grasped his arm with the intention of dragging him from
the café. At this, the officer, who had cowered irresolute beneath his
adversary's unflinching gaze, clapped a hand to his sword and attempted
to rise. In an instant the young American had thrust him back with such
force that the frail chair crashed beneath him, and the uniform of Spain
was rolled ignominiously in the dust.
Then, without regarding the man further, or noticing the other inmates
of the café, who were thronging towards them, Carl turned to his friend,
saying--
"I don't think I like this place, West. Isn't there some other in which
we might be just as happy?"
"Yes, yes, come quick," replied Carlos, starting towards the street as
he spoke; but it was too late, for at that moment a file of soldiers
appeared in the doorway. They were led by the Spanish spy who had
followed our friends from Key West, and who had been sitting in the Café
Pasaje brooding over the futility of his attempts to apprehend them when
the two lads unsuspectingly entered it.
"There they are! Seize them!" he now cried exultingly, and the obedient
soldiers rushed forward.
With all the latent fury of his nature aroused and blazing from his blue
eyes, the young Anglo-Saxon American fought single-handed the minions of
Spain. Two of them fell like logs beneath crashing blows from his fists.
Two more were hurled breathless to right and left. The others hesitated,
and even shrunk before him as with a cry of "Come on, West!" he dashed
toward the doorway. At that moment some one flung a chair before him. He
tripped over it, staggered wildly, and then measured his length on the
pavement with half-a-dozen Spanish soldiers on his back.
When next he was allowed to regain his feet, he was helplessly bound and
being marched away to prison, together with Carlos Moranza, who was in
the same unhappy plight. Even then the spirit of the young American was
unsubdued; and, in defiance of his enemies, he raised a cry on gaining
the street that he felt certain was as good Spanish as it was English.
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" he shouted, with all the breath left in him.
"Silencio, Gringo!" growled the nearest soldier, at the same time
striking his prisoner full in the mouth with the flat of his hand.
For a wonder, Carl Baldwin retained sufficient wisdom to accept the blow
without a word, though, had he known the full value of his outcry, he
might have been tempted to repeat it.
A crowd had already gathered in front of the café, and from it instantly
arose answering shouts, in tones indicating both derision and amazement,
of "El gallo! El canto del gallo!"
Carlos Moranza wondered how his friend had obtained a knowledge of the
Junta's defiant password for the current month, since even to him it had
only been revealed under promise of a strict secrecy that he had not
broken. He had used it but once, and then the whispered "Canto del
gallo" had instantly admitted him to the presence of the Junta's agent
in Key West. No matter, though, how Carl had discovered it, he was
justified in using it under the circumstances, for it might raise
friends to their assistance, if, indeed, there were any within hearing
who understood its hidden meaning. Thus thinking, the young Cuban also
uplifted his voice in a ringing "Canto del gallo."
At sound of this second note of defiance, the Spanish spy, with a
malediction upon the _gallipollo_, sprang towards the lad, but, ere he
could strike a blow, some one in the crowd hurled a paving-stone that
stretched him senseless on the ground. As though this were a signal,
the mob, led by a tall man in the dress of a _carbonero_ or
charcoal-burner, rushed upon the slender file of soldiers, and swept it
irresistibly before them.
A few moments of pandemonium--shots, yells, screams of pain, cries of
exultation, a crash of flying missiles, the ominous clatter of a cavalry
patrol galloping down the street, and then all was over. The mob melted
away like a puff of smoke, leaving only a few innocent and inoffensive
citizens to be cut down by the sabres of the troopers. The prisoners who
had caused the outbreak had also disappeared, and when the Spanish spy,
slowly regaining his senses, became aware of this fact, he gnashed his
teeth with rage.
Our lads were in the meantime dragged at top speed through a labyrinth
of narrow streets and dark alleys, until, breathless and bewildered,
they finally found themselves in a dimly-lighted room, surrounded by a
group of those who had effected their release. One of these severed the
cords binding their arms with two blows of a dirk-like machete, and said
in reassuring tones--
"Fear nothing, señors; you are with friends, sworn to aid all who suffer
in the cause of Cuba. Tell us, then, who you are, whence you come, and
how it happens that you possess the most secret password of the Junta."
"I," replied the young Cuban boldly, for to him alone of the two was
this address intelligible, "am Carlos Moranza, son of----"
Here the lad was interrupted by a great cry from one of his auditors,
and in another instant he was folded in a close embrace by the
_carbonero_ who had led the mob to the rescue.
"Carlos, my son! my own brave boy! do you not know your father?" cried
the man, half-sobbing, half-laughing in the excitement of his discovery.
"Father! my father! can it be?" screamed Carlos, staring wildly at the
man. "It is indeed his voice; but without hearing it I should never have
known him. But, father, they told me you were shot, and I have mourned
you as dead."
"I was indeed captured and condemned to be shot, but managed to escape,"
replied General Moranza. "And I should have joined you in the land of
freedom ere this, but for Catina."
"What of her?" inquired the young Cuban eagerly. "Is she still alive and
well? I heard that she was a prisoner, condemned to Africa, and am here
to effect her release, if it be not too late."
"The child is indeed an inmate of the vile _Jacoba_, and sentenced to
transportation in a ship that will sail on the morrow," replied the
General. "This I learned but an hour since from Don Estevan."
"Now I know," interrupted Carlos. "It was also he who gave me warning in
the café."
"'Twas to meet him, who is a true friend of the cause," continued the
other, "that I lingered near the Pasaje, and so was on hand to rescue
from Weyler's clutches those who appealed for aid with the password of
the Junta."
"Yes," laughed Carlos, "the 'Canto del gallo' of my friend, who yet
declares that he knew nothing of its secret value, did us a fine
service; but of Catina, my father, what more have you to tell?"
"Nothing, my son; all efforts to rescue her have been made in vain, and
on the morrow the little one will sail away for ever. I have lacked two
things--a demonstration of sufficient magnitude to attract attention
from the prisons, and the means of conveying her from the island
undiscovered. But alas----"
"Both of them I can supply," cried Carlos eagerly. "Such a demonstration
may be contrived as will cause every Spaniard in Havana to tremble in
his shoes and call on the saints for protection. As for a conveyance,
it is already at hand. Furthermore, the transport ship can certainly be
prevented from sailing on the morrow, and shall be."
"What then, my Carlos? Have the United States espoused our cause and
sent a fleet to our aid?"
"Not so, father, only two of her brave citizens, of whom this, my
dearest friend, is one, have come with me; but we have brought that
which may accomplish all that I claim and more. Do not question me as to
its nature, for I am bound to present secrecy. Only be prepared for our
demonstration which will be made to-morrow night; effect the release of
the little one from _La Jacoba_, bring her to the dock of the fishmarket
on the exact stroke of midnight, and her safety together with thy own
shall be assured."
After another hour spent in joyful congratulations, explanations, and a
perfecting of details for the proposed rescue, our lads took their
departure, and cautiously returned to the place where Professor Rivers
anxiously awaited them.
CHAPTER V
Although amid the excitements of the night Carl and Carlos had not
realised the flight of time, the hours of waiting passed by their
companion in anxious suspense on board the _Mermaid_ had seemed
interminable. He had not dared desert his boat for a minute, nor would
it have been safe to move from the precise position in which the lads
had left her. So he could only watch from the turret of his submerged
craft, with every sense keenly alert for the return of his young
friends. After a while he seemed to hear guarded footsteps and
whispering voices close at hand, though unable to see the figures to
which they belonged. The impulse to turn on a search light and thus
discover the nature of his surroundings became so strong that at length
he disconnected the wires in order to remove the temptation.
He had hardly done this and resumed his position in the turret, when
there came a shout, a shot, and a rush of feet. Then a cry in English
of--
"Show a light, Professor; a light--quick!"
[Illustration: "Then two dripping figures scrambled aboard."]
The startled man struck a match and held it aloft, where it was
instantly extinguished by a little puff of wind. But its purpose was
served, for even as it expired two dark forms leaped into the black
water that closed above them. At the same moment half-a-dozen shots rang
out spitefully, and one of them, evidently attracted by the Professor's
light, glanced from the _Mermaid's_ iron turret. Then two dripping
figures scrambled aboard, the turret hatch was closed, and, with her
crew safely reunited, the marvellous craft sank beneath the surface,
without leaving a trace to be discovered by the flashing lanterns that,
a few minutes later, were exploring every inch of the dock in which she
had lain.
The lads had made a second narrow escape, and that they had made it at
all was not due to any lack of precaution on the part of the Spanish
spy, who, fully convinced that they were in some way connected with the
mysterious tow in the harbour, had taken every means to intercept them
in case they should attempt to regain it from the water-front of the
city.
Daylight was tinting the eastern sky when the _Mermaid_ again cautiously
showed her eyes above the surface in close proximity to her tow, and, in
obedience to a safety signal from the captain of the tug, who had long
been watching for her, quickly regained her old position within the
capacious pocket of the dumping scow. In the meantime the lads had
recounted their adventures and told of their joyful meeting with General
Moranza, together with what Carlos had promised should be done on the
following night.
To all of this the Professor gladly agreed; for would it not afford him
the longed-for opportunity of testing the powers of his beloved boat to
the utmost? Thus, even before regaining her berth in the scow, the
_Mermaid_ paid a submarine visit to the Spanish transport that was to
have borne many a heart-broken exile away from Cuba that day, and so
tampered with propeller and steering-gear that her date of sailing was
certain to be indefinitely postponed. A few hours later our adventurers
watched with intense interest the consternation and bewilderment
manifest on board the transport, and, when it became evident that she
could not be moved, began to make active preparations for the coming
night.
On the part of the Professor these consisted in mixing certain chemicals
that required the utmost delicacy and skill in handling. Carl Baldwin
devoted himself to so arranging a number of giant dynamite crackers,
that they might be ignited under water and made to explode on reaching
the surface, while Carlos spent his time in carrying out a design that
he had borne in mind ever since the planning of their expedition. It was
the preparing for service of two Cuban flags. One was a transparency
fitted with electric wires and made fast to a float that would support
it on the surface of the water. This was intended only for night use,
while the other, which was of silk with a slender staff of steel, was
designed to attract attention by daylight.
[Illustration: "The explosion, close under their bows, of a giant
fire-cracker."]
Shortly before sunset, with everything in readiness for her great
venture, the _Mermaid_ forsook her snug berth and began to move across
the harbour, with the eyes of her turret just awash and the flag of free
Cuba fluttering bravely a foot above the surface of the water. It did
not attract attention until it passed slowly within a hundred yards of
the Spanish battle-ship _Alfonso XIX._, when a clamour of voices from
her decks announced its discovery. A few minutes later a boat, manned
by Spanish bluejackets and commanded by a dapper lieutenant, dashed
forth in pursuit of the hated emblem. It was easily overtaken and the
officer stretched forth a hand to seize it. As he touched its steel
staff he received an electric shock that caused him to utter a scream of
terror and fall like one paralysed in the bottom of his boat. With this
the little flag, proudly displaying its broad stripes of white and blue
and a single white star in a crimson field, danced away over the placid
waters towards another great ship flying the red and yellow ensign of
Spain. Again was the bait taken, and a second boat was sent in pursuit.
This time not only was the man who attempted to seize the Cuban emblem
numbed as though by a stroke of lightning, but the boat's crew was
thrown into a state of wildest panic by the explosion, close under their
bows, of a giant fire-cracker.
"Isn't it great fun?" cried Carl Baldwin, who was in charge of the
diving-room, the ventilation, and the explosives.
"It is bewildering," answered the Professor, without taking his eyes
from the pressure-gauge that indicated their exact distance below the
surface. "At this moment we three are demonstrating the worthlessness,
as fighting machines, of the world's navies. From this time on, the
nations of the earth will be compelled by fear to live at peace with
each other."
"I wish we could sink just one Spanish ship," said Carlos Moranza from
the engine-room.
"Of course we could do it," replied Professor Rivers. "In fact, we could
within one hour's time destroy every warship in this harbour, but it
would be a wicked and cowardly act. No, no, my boy, we will not harm a
single human being in this glorious experiment. At the same time I am
perfectly willing to inspire them with a wholesome fear."
"Just scare 'em stiff," laughed Carl Baldwin.
By the time darkness had settled over the scene the entire Spanish fleet
was fully aroused. News of the mysterious happenings in the harbour had
even spread to all parts of the city, and General Moranza realised that
his powerful friends were already at work.
[Illustration: "The _Alfonso XIX._ lay in a glow of diffused light that
seemed to come from beneath her very keel."]
Some two hours later, while the officers and crew of the _Alfonso XIX._
were still discussing with bated breath the recent supernatural
appearance of the Cuban emblem, they were startled by again seeing it
floating on the surface but a short distance from them. This time,
instead of being a simple silken flag, it was outlined in flames of red
white and blue. There was a confused shouting of orders, and then the
rattling fire of a machine-gun began to tear through the water just
beyond the blazing emblem. With the first sound of firing it vanished,
but a minute later the _Alfonso XIX._ lay in a glow of diffused light
that seemed to come from beneath her very keel. And so it did, for that
was the point from which the _Mermaid_ was just then operating her 4000
candle-power search-light.
As the Spaniards waited in breathless terror for what should happen
next, and fully expecting to be hurled into eternity by some tremendous
explosion, a dense volume of sickening smoke rose slowly from the water
on both sides of the ship, until she was completely enveloped in its
suffocating folds. In a vain effort to escape this terror against which
they could not fight, the Spaniards slipped their moorings with the idea
of steaming out to sea, but, to their dismay, the great screw, that
should have driven them through the water at a speed of twenty miles an
hour, refused to move, and the vast bulk of the _Alfonso XIX._ only
drifted helplessly.
Now the fiery emblem of free Cuba was again seen moving swiftly from
point to point, fired at by ship after ship, disappearing with each shot
only to flash out again a moment later in some unexpected quarter. Its
erratic course was marked by eddying clouds of pungent smoke, bursts of
flame, and loud explosions that threw the whole harbour into an uproar
of terror. The panic-stricken ships of Spain dropped their moorings and
made desperate efforts to escape from the enemy that they could neither
see nor fight, but which seemed to hold them at its mercy. Some of them
could not move, others could not be steered, and all drifted helplessly,
colliding with one another, running aground, blinding each other with
flashing search-lights that incessantly swept the black waters in
every direction, and filled with terrified men who implored the saints
to save them.
[Illustration: "Threw the whole harbour into an uproar of terror."]
Nor was the alarm confined to these, but it spread to the city, where in
every quarter church-bells rang madly, drums sounded their quick call to
arms, trumpets blared, masses of people poured through every avenue
leading to the water-front, and Havana was dominated by such a reign of
terror as its history had never known. While the confusion was at its
height, a heavy firing from the south announced an insurgent attack,
and, with the general call for troops that followed, even the military
guards of the prisons were temporarily pressed into service.
At five minutes before midnight, as marked by Carlos Moranza's watch,
the cause of all this turmoil slipped unnoticed into the dock of the
fishmarket, and lay motionless with only her low turret rising above the
surface. At exactly midnight the young Cuban closed his watch with a
snap, and listened eagerly to a rapidly approaching rattle of wheels.
Then a carriage dashed through the crowds lining the water-front, and
staring like so many bewildered moths at the flashing search-lights of
the warships. As it drew up sharply at the head of the dock, a man in
the uniform of a Spanish general leaped from it, and was quickly
followed by a slender youth, apparently a mere boy, also in uniform.
At this moment the whole scene was suddenly illumined by a glare of
light that seemed to come from the very waters of the dock, and a great
cry rose from the spectators as they fell back in affright. Only two men
dared press forward--the Spanish general and his aide. These stood for a
moment on the very edge of the stone coping. Then the lad seemed to slip
down into the water. As he disappeared, the general, waving his plumed
chapeau high above his head, uttered a loud cry of "_Viva Cuba libre_!"
and sprang after his companion.
Half-an-hour later the little _Mermaid_ was slipping swiftly but unseen
beneath the very walls of Moro Castle and out of Havana harbour. In her
tiny cabin, Catina Moranza, weak with reaction from the terrible strain
of the past few days, lay sobbing in her brother's arms, and striving to
tell of her blessed deliverance from the horrors of _La Jacoba_. At the
same time General Moranza stood beside Professor Rivers and watched with
wondering admiration his conning of the most powerful battle-ship the
world had ever known.
Two miles out at sea they found their tug, that, with its tow, had taken
advantage of the dire confusion in Havana harbour to leave it unnoticed.
Here the _Mermaid_ took the last dive of her eventful cruise, and in
another minute was once more safely ensconced within the dumping scow.
Ten days later the clumsy tow, with the real object of its long voyage
still unsuspected, moved slowly up the Delaware River, and came to
anchor off the Baldwin shipyard.
In answer to the chaff of such acquaintances as rallied him on the folly
of trying to sell a dumping scow to the Spaniards of Havana, the captain
of the tug was wont to say, "Yes, it is true I failed to sell the scow,
but I made five thousand dollars out of the trip all the same."
Professor Rivers is equally satisfied with the success of his venture,
and so of course is Carlos Moranza. As for Carl Baldwin, he made the
home voyage in a state of delightful bewilderment.
"Why didn't you tell me, West, that your sister, instead of being a mere
child, as I was led to suppose, was the very loveliest and most
beautiful girl in the world?" he asked of his friend after his
introduction to Catina.
"Because," answered Carlos Moranza, who had heretofore only seen the
young lady in question through the eyes of a brother, "I didn't know she
was."
THE VENTURE OF THE "BERTHA" WHALER
_A STORY OF THE ANTARCTIC_
BY HENRY FRITH
_Author of "The Search for the 'Talisman,'" "Jack o' Lanthorn,"
"The Opal Mountain," &c, &c._
I
"Pax!" cried Arthur Rushton, as he and his brother Reginald struggled
amicably on the sofa in the vessel's berth.
"All right!" assented the elder, a fine lad of sixteen. "How are you
feeling this morning, Arthur? Better?"
"Rather! I feel like Samson already," replied the somewhat
delicate-looking boy. "I am ready for several Philistines this morning,
and mean to ask the steward-fellow for a couple of asses' jaw-bones for
dumb-bell practice!"
"Better keep them shut, and not exercise them so much," said Reginald
politely. "No, no!" he cried, as Arthur made an attempt to assault him.
"It's pax now; and, besides, I want to finish dressing."
The threatened contest was thus averted, and, after some light chaff had
been exchanged, the lads resumed their conversation.
"I wonder how things are at home," mused Arthur. "The dear mother was
very unwilling to let us go, though the step-pater did not seem to care!
Poor, dear mother! I think she spoke to the captain about us, Reggie."
"I am sure she induced Mr. Halbrake to come with us instead of the other
man from the firm. Halbrake, being a doctor (surgeon, I mean), is in the
right place, particularly as the captain is a bit 'touchy' and
obstinate. The mate is simply a beast."
"Yes; he and the master had a nice row over that paper which was found
in the chart-room, or in the cabin above. The old skipper declared it
was a warning. Didn't he get riled, too? and he nearly blew himself up
as well as the mate."
"Next time he'll have a fit. It strikes me the mate aggravates him
purposely. The captain can't stand any kind of interference. Well, I'm
going on deck. Hurry up now," said Reginald.
This conversation took place in the lads' berth on board the _Bertha_, a
sturdy barque in which they were voyaging. She was fitted as a "whaler,"
and belonged to the firm of Boscombe & Halbrake--chiefly Boscombe. The
senior partner was the step-father of the Rushtons, for their mother, a
rich widow, had married Mr. Boscombe, a gentleman whom the lads most
cordially disliked. Shortly after the marriage he, at first gently, and
later very firmly, had suggested a voyage for Arthur, who seemed
delicate. Then he decided upon sending the _Bertha_ to seal in the
Antarctic, and to search for a missing vessel, the _Gladiator_. When
this was arranged, Reginald volunteered to accompany his brother. Mr.
Boscombe made no objection. Mr. Halbrake, a young surgeon, usually
called "Doctor," also embarked under the old and experienced master,
Blake, an eccentric, touchy man, obstinate to a degree, and always
easily "drawn" when his attainments were questioned. He and his mate,
Esau Cordell, were always at loggerheads. It seemed, as Reginald
Rushton had said, that Esau had aggravated the old man on purpose.
Several days had already passed since the _Bertha_ quitted Plymouth. She
had plunged and rolled in Biscay's Bay, and flung waves over her head
aft to the waist. The lads and the Doctor lay close, sometimes venturing
on deck, but more frequently keeping below till the weather moderated.
The auxiliary screw was now hushed, and the barque plunged on under sail
with a fine breeze on the quarter. On the day on which our tale opens,
Reginald again went on deck, and the master asked him and Arthur to
breakfast with him in his own cabin.
"Glad to see you up again," said the captain. "Began to think you
intended to stay below until we reached the tropics. Got your sea-legs,
eh? and a good appetite, I hope?"
The boys replied cheerfully in the affirmative, and the meal proceeded
until, about ten minutes later, Mr. Cordell intruded his red head into
the cabin and said--
"Excuse me, sir, but the weather is looking ugly. I think you had better
shorten sail."
"I shall shorten sail when I please," replied the master. "You may take
a reef in your jaw-tackle, Mr. Cordell, meantime."
"Best get up steam," continued the mate, without taking any notice of
the suggestion.
"Get out, sir," roared the captain. "I am master of this ship! Say, what
do you know of the paper about traitors aboard? Mind your own business,
sir. I'll mind mine."
"There are obstinate old fools aboard, I suspect," muttered the mate.
"The ship will be struck by a squall presently. You had better shorten
sail, as I tell you."
"I shall not. Go forward, or I'll put you in irons. What impudence!"
puffed the captain as the mate disappeared. "He thinks he commands the
ship. Hum!" he muttered after a pause, during which he had consulted
the barometer, "it's falling fast, but _he_ doesn't know the ropes,"
continued the obstinate skipper. "Now, lads, fire away; there's no
trouble; eat hearty."
"We have finished, thank you, captain. The sky is getting very dark,
sir."
"Eh! eh! a bit dusky. Seems the sea is rising; wind's changing too; must
go and look at it," said the old fellow, as he sauntered out of the
cabin. But hardly had he emerged on deck when the mate's voice rung out
loudly--
"All hands take in sail; look alive there!"
The master swore, and rushed out to confront his deputy.
"Let her go as she is, Jackson," he cried to the steersman. "Go below
forward," he shouted to the mate furiously. "I shall have you in limbo.
Stevens" (he hailed the second mate), "stand by the watch and reduce
sail. Heavens! here's the squall ahead! Let the sheets fly--smart. Up
with the helm--hard up! Haul up the mainsail, down flying jib there!"
The men, fortunately, were prepared, and the mate, ignoring the threat
of arrest, assisted, gave orders, and generally behaved well. The
barque, taken aback, plunged, shook herself, and then fell off,
careening to the blast, almost dipping her yard-arms into the sea. The
captain raved; the mate shouted; the men laboured; and when the barque
was brought before the gale under a furled topsail and furled foresail,
the angry captain called the mate, and standing in the waist, addressed
him as follows:--
"You are a mutineer, sir; you shall leave this ship. I will put into
port as soon as possible and try you. Go below, sir!"
"You'll do nothing of the kind," retorted the mate; "perhaps I can break
you. You had better knock under."
"Mutiny, by heavens! Mr. Stevens, send the watch aft to seize this
fellow."
The captain seized the mate as he spoke. The latter resisted. A struggle
ensued, in the quick course of which the older man was pinned against
the bulwarks, while the vessel rolled deeply. A tremendous wave washed
into the waist furiously, and then, no one knew how, the captain,
overbalanced, dropped overboard, and disappeared in the raging sea. The
mate had hardly saved himself, as the wave, which had nearly swamped the
_Bertha_, rushed in cascades along the decks, and finally escaped
impetuously by the scuppers.
[Illustration: "The captain, overbalanced, dropped overboard, and
disappeared in the raging sea."]
"Man overboard!" was the cry, as the mate fell back on the deck. "Down
helm; make ready the quarter boat!"
In a moment all was confusion. The hands were almost paralysed by the
occurrence. Mr. Halbrake, who had been below with the two youthful
passengers, came hurriedly upon deck, and for a moment the _Bertha_ was
left to herself. She plunged and rolled deeply; the waves dashed wildly
over her, as the high cross seas invaded the decks fore and aft. For
half a minute she appeared settling down, but her stability asserted
itself, and she rolled back again, when the men steadied her by the helm
on her course.
All thought of saving the unfortunate master was by this time abandoned;
he must have sunk immediately. The men went about their avocations in
silence. The doctor assisted the mate, who had fallen and cut his head
rather badly, and interrogated him closely.
But Mr. Halbrake found himself powerless in the matter of discipline.
Though so closely connected with one of the owners, he found he had no
authority. The mate had had his orders from Mr. Boscombe apparently, and
the three passengers were impotent in the matter. They subsequently
discussed the case, for the surgeon had had his suspicions ever since
the mysterious paper had been found in the captain's room, but the
author of it, and the accomplice who placed it there, were unknown. The
mate himself had been as furious as the captain on the subject, possibly
for different reasons, but the ill-feeling then engendered had caused
the tragedy which all hands regretted.
* * * * *
The mate took command of the barque with the tacit approval of all,
though evidently against the wishes of some on board. The squall abated
almost as suddenly as it had arisen. Steam was raised, and the _Bertha_
then resumed her course in a calmer sea. The lads took the opportunity
to examine the ship, and inspected the oil-tanks, the harpoon-chests,
the store-cabins, and penetrated to the forecastle. They made friends
with the men, and learned many things about sealing and whaling. They
were much surprised at the strength of the ship--her strong hull, thick
bulwarks, and clamped bows; the arm-chest and the stores, ammunition,
food, were also inspected, and sampled later.
The voyage proceeded without any marked incidents. Then another, and yet
another, storm attacked them. The _Bertha_ put into no port; she
proceeded southward with ever-varying weather, and novel experiences for
her passengers. So the parallels were traversed to the Trades, and the
Line was approached.
II
Day after day passed. The last storm from the north-west had at length
subsided. The weather was becoming very warm; the sailors donned straw
hats, or other light head-gear, and thin garments. The decks were
scorching. The wind fell entirely; and one day late in October, when in
a sailing barque people would have been whistling for wind, the _Bertha_
fell in with the north-east Trades, sail-shifting ceased, and the engine
was at rest.
All this time there was much dissatisfaction in the minds of the three
passengers. Esau Cordell's manner was not in his favour. The boys
disliked him heartily, and even the young surgeon was prejudiced against
the new commander. The three friends kept together, and frequently
compared notes on their experiences and feelings.
"I cannot understand why your step-father sent you fellows aboard this
ship," remarked the doctor. They were lying on the hot deck, beneath the
shade of the quarter boat suspended in-board. "Why couldn't he have sent
Arthur to the Mediterranean if he is delicate, though I don't admit
that?"
"For money reasons," replied Reginald. "The 'boss' is as stingy as a
tom-cat, and he gets the jaunt _gratis_."
"Stingy! I believe you," said Arthur. "He declares he is as poor as a
church-mouse; and mice would be poor indeed if they depended upon his
offertory."
"Ah, then perhaps he had some other motive," murmured the doctor.
"However," he continued aloud, "you will both go home well and fit.
Reggie may still go to Cambridge, and you, Arthur, may go as you please;
perhaps try the Bar, as you have private means."
"We shall see," said Arthur quietly. "But I say, doctor, somehow I can't
forget that letter about the 'traitors on board.' What was it all about,
I wonder? The poor old captain was enraged, but he had something to go
upon, I think."
"What became of the paper?" asked Reginald. "Has the mate got it?"
"Don't know. I suspect it has been picked up somewhere," replied the
doctor. "There is nothing suspicious now, at any rate."
"Isn't there?" said Arthur, nodding significantly at the last speaker.
"The mate came into our berth last night very quietly, and when he saw I
was awake, he mumbled something and went out."
"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Reginald. "I thought we had fastened the
door."
"Perhaps you heard some one in the passage close by," said Mr. Halbrake,
"or perhaps you dreamt it all."
"No, I saw the man plainly in the dim light--it must have been early in
the morning, I expect--and that _beast_ Esau----"
"Meaning me, young sir? Go on! Don't mind my feelings," continued the
mate sarcastically; "I am only a beast, you know!"
The three chums were perfectly dumfounded, the man had come upon them so
silently and so cautiously. What had he heard?
"We are sorry that you happened to hear my young friend's opinion,"
said Mr. Halbrake after a pause. "He seems, however, to have some
objection to you. Of course I do not understand it, but----"
"But _I_ understand that the accredited surgeon of this vessel, and a
partner, I believe, of the owners, is inciting my passengers to insult
the commander. The late skipper found out what that meant when he
attacked me, and if you and these cubs are not careful, you may all find
yourselves in limbo."
[Illustration: "Hullo, my young spitfire! so you want a lesson, do
you?"]
"Cubs!" exclaimed Reginald. "What do you mean by such insolence? You are
a mean cad! I think you drove the old captain overboard."
"Hullo, hullo, my young spitfire! so you want a lesson, do you? Well,
then, take my advice; hold your tongue in future, else both of you will
be put in irons below. I'll have no mutiny here; and you, doctor, had
best just keep yourself to yourself, else you will find things _raspy_
for _you_!"
With this hint, and a significant nod to the three seated in the shade
of the boat, the commander walked away. His advent had struck the party
dumb; his departure had a similar effect upon them.
At length, after a cautious look around, Reginald remarked--
"He must have been listening. After all, he took the matter fairly well.
To be called a beast, and to be spoken of as a possible murderer, is a
fair test of temper."
"So is 'cubs,'" said Arthur. "And he _is_ a beast, anyway! I would like
to find that paper; then we should know what to believe."
"I am afraid he will find means to 'pay us out,'" said the surgeon,
reflectively. "Let us keep quiet. Perhaps we have been too hard on him,
though I cannot understand what object he had in setting the captain
against him. That he did so is evident."
"What object had our 'dear papa' in sending Arthur in this ship? Yet he
did, knowing I would go also. You yourself were surprised, doctor. Could
it be a planned thing, do you think?"
"Oh, impossible!" exclaimed the surgeon, rising from the desk. "We must
be careful, that's all."
The lads acted on this advice. Nothing occurred to alarm them. The
_Bertha_ approached the Line, and one day, after the heart-breaking
"Doldrums" had been passed under steam, the Equinoctial was reached
about the end of October.
"One must draw the line somewhere, I suppose," remarked Arthur to
Jackson; "here it is! Can you _see_ it?" he asked, with a great
assumption of innocence.
"Certainly," replied the man, calmly, "it's just ahead. If you ascend to
the cross-trees, you may see it dipping like a gold and silver rope in
the waves. Take the glass and have a squint."
"Thanks!" replied Arthur, somewhat abashed; "I'll see presently." He was
uncertain what pranks might be played upon him when high jinks were the
rule of the road at sea near the Line; so he waited the approach of
Neptune patiently.
The sea-king came over the bows in due course, accompanied by his spouse
and secretary; he was attended by a number of "policemen" and followers,
who seized and questioned the intended victims. These were shaved with a
hoop, compelled to swallow grease pills, and then soused in the
water-sail, while queerly-dressed animals, seals, and such like assisted
in the ducking.
The "doctor" did not escape, and, owing to what some people thought was
no accident, the young man having been roughly shaved, soused, and
jumped upon in the bath, was hunted down the companion-way. Here he came
into violent collision with the commander, who was at that moment
ascending. The surgeon was thrown down backwards and rendered insensible
by the fall.
Mr. Halbrake was carried below, attended by his young friends and the
mate. The festivity of the occasion was not greatly interrupted, but
Arthur sat with Reginald in the doctor's berth, conversing in whispers,
and with grave faces.
"Artie," said the latter, "we are getting into a fix! It seems to me
that we _are_ doomed somehow. The _Bertha_ is under a ban!"
"I'm afraid there _is_ something bad here, Reggie. Cordell is at the
bottom of it. I wish he was at the bottom of the sea."
"Yes, he seems inclined to remove us one by one. Whose turn next, I
wonder!"
"Do you think that he is a pirate?" exclaimed Arthur. "Surely our _dear
step-father_ would not have put us in such a situation. He couldn't!"
"Perhaps he might have had reasons," whispered a strange voice.
The boys started and looked fearfully around. Who had spoken? They were
alone with the sleeping man. What could he know, or how could he talk
thus in his sleep, wounded as he was? Reginald looked at the invalid,
and then whispered--
"The vessel is haunted! I wish we had never come on board. Let us tell
Esau."
"No, certainly not," said Arthur. "He will only make things worse. Let
us try to beat him at his own game!"
"Right!" whispered the strange voice. "Lie low!"
"That is mysterious," said Reginald, as he went quickly to the door and
threw it open. There was no one near; the cabins were silent and
darkened.
"Rum!" he remarked as he returned to the doctor's bunk. "Did you speak,
doctor?"
"No," was the unexpected reply in a faint tone. "But I heard you and the
strange voice. I suspect it was Jackson. He seems a good man."
The lads looked and nodded at each other, and the doctor proceeded in a
whisper--
"Listen! That mate intended to seriously cripple me to-day, I'm certain,
and to put the injury down to the 'larking on the Line!' Some one had
guessed your step-father's plans and warned the late captain. Now Esau
thinks I am disabled. Jackson, I suspect, is on our side, and has given
us a hint. See?"
"Then you think that Mr. Boscombe _intended_ us to die!" exclaimed
Reginald. "Is it possible? Oh no; he _couldn't_ be so wicked!"
"The mate has _some_ instructions, I believe," whispered Mr. Halbrake.
"Be careful. I think we may trust Jackson, and the engineers are
honest. Keep quiet now till I am well again, and wait with your eyes
wide open. Later on we shall certainly see something!"
The surgeon then lay silent. During the night the lads sat up with him,
watching in turn. Esau came down to make inquiry, and Jackson also
looked in. The Rushtons attended to their friend under his own
directions, and decided to "play possum" until they fell in with a ship
or landed somewhere. In this way three weeks passed, and southern climes
were reached.
By that time the doctor had perfectly recovered. He assisted in the
fishing for the albatross with a hook and bait, and finally secured one
of these fine birds by these means. He and all the rest on board enjoyed
the novel sights of whales and porpoises, the various birds, and the
unusual appearances of the southern climate. A gale drove the _Bertha_
past the Falklands, greatly to the disgust of many on board who had
anticipated a run ashore; and then, when the weather moderated, the
passengers came on deck again muffled up to meet the Antarctic cold.
Christmas was already looming on the horizon of the almanac, and
festivity was indulged in in anticipation. The doctor stuffed birds
(mollymauks and Cape pigeons); Reginald and Arthur fished, shot, and
thoroughly enjoyed the voyage, while still on their guard respecting the
commander. In fact, to all appearance, the ill-feeling which had arisen
on board had by this time passed away.
One afternoon the thermometer fell decidedly, and a report of ice was
promulgated. The air became _very_ chilly, and bergs were anticipated.
Ice for Christmas!
"What a lark!" cried Arthur. "This will be fun! May we land upon an
iceberg?"
The commander, who was searching the ocean through his glass, looked
steadily and with much interest at the lad. He did not reply at once,
but resumed his survey.
"Can we, Mr. Cordell?" asked Arthur again.
"Perhaps," was the reply. "Would you both like it?"
"Rather! eh, Reggie! Wouldn't it be splendid to land on a _real
iceberg_?"
"There are no sham ones here," said Mr. Cordell. "None 'made in
Germany'! We shall find you one, I daresay," he concluded as he walked
across to port.
"You shouldn't run risks, gentlemen," remarked Jackson, who was again at
the wheel. "If ye get on, ye may never get off!"
The speaker never looked at the lads; he kept his eyes upon the ocean
far ahead, and seemed as if he had been talking to himself in a low
tone.
"Look," he cried suddenly, "there's a Christmas-box for you! That's a
berg! See, yonder, to starboard bow."
"That!" exclaimed Reginald. "Why, it's _flat_, not pointed, as we have
seen in pictures!"
"They is always flat in the Antarctic," replied the sailor. "They are
square-looking, not peaky, down here."
By this time the hands had assembled forward to see the first berg of
summer in the Antarctic. As the _Bertha_ approached the drifting mass,
it seemed to emerge from the light mist as a plateau of ice, at least a
mile long and quite two hundred and fifty feet high; its breadth could
not be at once estimated, but it seemed square. The summit was white and
sparkling with snow, which was reflected sharply by the sunbeams, even
painfully. The sides of the berg were caverned like cliffs; blue, and
even green in places, against which the waves dashed with great force,
leaping high up the ice, half way, at times, to the summit. The sea was
roaring in the ice-caves, and presented a most magnificent appearance as
it retreated, foaming and angry, only to attack the white walls anew.
It _was_ magnificent! Splendid! Glorious! All the spectators were silent
as the _Bertha_ approached the berg.
[Illustration: "What are those black things, Mr. Stevens?"]
III
Even Arthur Rushton was silent. His idea of a "lark" appeared entirely
out of place _vis-à-vis_ with the berg.
The _Bertha_ was sailing with a south-east wind, but the berg appeared
to be drifting towards the barque. At one time some fears were
entertained that the vessel would collide with the mass, but the berg
passed on with merely a cold recognition of the stranger. The mist
seemed increasing, the weather colder, the sea lumpy, as the island of
ice passed by in dignified silence.
A man was sent up to the "crow's-nest," a barrel which had been hoisted
up to the main-topmast, to scan the horizon for seals, whalers, and any
floes. The look-out was seated in the cask upon a board fixed within it,
and he entered it by a trap-door (cut in the bottom of the barrel) from
the rigging. When the apparatus had been tested, Arthur, of course, was
anxious to ascend and see what he could.
"May we go up?" asked Reginald of the second mate.
"Aye," replied Stevens. "I'll see you safe up. Take care, youngster; the
ship's rollin' a tidy bit up there!"
The lads had ascended the rigging before, and with a little assistance
one managed to enter the crow's-nest. Arthur went first, as he had
suggested the expedition.
"This is splendid," exclaimed the lad. "There are several bergs, and
lumps of ice in the sea like little islands. What are those black
things, Mr. Stevens?"
He indicated some distant objects which seemed to be floating between
the barque and the ice-floe.
"Whales," replied Stevens. "Not _right_ whales, though. Those are
'finners,' as we call them."
"_Wrong_ whales, I suppose! Are 'finners,' then, 'sinners,'" asked
Arthur in his most innocent tone.
"Not particularly, so far as I know," replied the mate, laughing, "but
they are no use to whalers, and so we only catch '_right_ whales,' d'ye
see?"
"Then, is that a _spout_?" asked the lad, as a thin and steam-like
vapour arose from the neighbourhood of the whales.
"Yes, that's a spout," was the reply, as the misty vapour vanished. "It
looks different in books, don't it?"
"It does," said Arthur. "I think I'll go down now. The rolling is rather
trying. Besides, Reginald is waiting."
"And Tom is expecting you to pay your 'footing,'" said the mate Stevens.
"Got to fork out, sir, please."
So Arthur "forked out" as desired, and descended with a light head and a
lighter pocket to warn his brother. Reginald, however, ascended boldly,
and entered the barrel, which the top-man had vacated.
Reginald looked around him, and could hardly realise the position. The
cold and mist he did not mind; the solitude appeared fearful! There he
was, swaying about high above the deck, feeling as if he must fall into
the sea when the barque rolled, or upon one of the tiny creatures which,
foreshortened below him, moved on the deck. It was a giddy perch!
He looked away over the sea, in which the ice masses, in detachments or
skirmishing order, were keeping the advance line of the distant, unknown
shore. Farther away the ice-clad ocean was rocking undulating in the
swell, which was confined by the "pack." The white reflection troubled
the lad, the desolation appeared complete; and shutting his ears to
exclude the sounds of the slapping ropes, the noise of the sails, the
cries of men and birds, Reginald could almost believe that all the
prospect was unreal, as in a dream--that he would awake again in his
bunk below and recover his senses! Then he took his fingers from his
ears. Even then he fancied the whole incident was unreal, even as he
turned to speak to the sailor beside him.
But the look-out man--always on the look-out for "footing"--assured him
that all was true and distinct and real. When he had carefully pocketed
the "tip," he permitted himself a long look across the ice, muttering
something, looking and again muttering.
"Ship ahoy!" he cried suddenly, hailing the deck.
"Where away!" came the response.
"Broad on the starboard beam: lying low on the ice, under the lee of a
berg. Looks dismantled."
"Can you make it out?" asked Arthur, when his brother had found him on
deck some minutes later.
"No; not likely from here. We are heading for it now, and expect we
shall pick her up. Did you like the 'crow's nest'?"
"Not much," replied Arthur. "I didn't like playing 'Cherub aloft.' Felt
as if I _had_ a _body_, and that my wings were making my head giddy!"
"I say, Artie," suggested Reginald, "when we reach the vessel yonder
shall we go aboard?"
"Rather!" was the reply. "Listen! what does Esau say? _Derelict?_--that
means stranded or abandoned, doesn't it?"
"Chucked up, I think. But the _beast_ won't let us go, never fear! We
and the doctor are his pet foes."
"We can try, any way. Come and see Mr. Halbrake."
The surgeon was in his cabin reading and smoking. He heard the report,
and guessed the anxiety of the boys. They were most desirous to go.
"Wait until we hear the order to lower the boat," he said after a while.
"Then wrap up well, and let us all go and ask the commander. Be ready,
mind!"
The lads went out, dressed and made all necessary preparations for the
trip, then they came into the doctor's berth again and waited, chatting
at intervals, and proposing all kinds of future expeditions.
At last the anticipated order came. The three friends went on deck, and
beheld four men with Jackson ready to embark in one of the boats.
"Let us go too, please, Mr. Cordell," cried Arthur. "We want to see the
stranded ship. Please let us all go."
"Oh, you all wish to go, do you? Well, perhaps it will be all the
better! Go then. Look sharp, now."
None of the three noticed the tone of Cordell's reply, nor the sneer
which had accompanied the permission, nor the savage light in the eyes
of the commander-mate. But Jackson intervened when Mr. Cordell had
spoken to him.
"Haven't you got any grub?" he asked. "Best get a snack, as in case
we're delayed you won't be hungry or thirsty. Where's the guns, sir?"
"They are there," replied the chief. "Mind that rifle; put it down
there! I have no fancy to be shot like a jackdaw. There's some tins for
you, and a keg. You may make grog if you like. Now, steady! Lower away!"
The boat, well supplied by the steward, and armed, pushed off, and under
the influence of the four men rushed through the chopping sea. The eyes
of the passengers were fixed upon the derelict, the eyes of the
cockswain were fixed on both alternately, with suspicious glances at the
lads. But Jackson made no remark. He was thinking of the message which
Esau had given him, and it puzzled him; but he held his course. The man
in the "crow's-nest" gave him the direction; the barque was kept
alongside the floe, clear of the bergs, too, which, agitated by currents
of their fellows' making, often swerved out of their course, and
compelled the _Bertha_ to "yaw," or to come up in the wind, to avoid a
collision.
The men rowed well, and the hull of the stranded vessel became more
distinct through the gathering mist. The _Bertha_ kept a signal flying
at the fore, but the bunting was already indistinct; and though Arthur
and others noticed the gradual disappearance of the barque, no one
remarked upon the fact. The men knew their bearings and felt no alarm.
"There she is," cried some one. "My stars!" exclaimed the cockswain,
"she is a derelict for sure, and one of our whalers like. Give way,
lads!"
Bumping, straining, and with many a shock, the boat was impelled in the
direction of the derelict, which the occupants of the pinnace succeeded
in reaching safely. She was half afloat, under the lee of the berg, upon
a long mass of ice attached to the cliffs in front of her. Her stern was
free, released by the breaking floe.
She was a barque, but smaller than the _Bertha_, and covered by snow and
frost above the water-line, below with barnacles. Truly a derelict
vessel; no living thing, save a few birds, was near her until the
"_Bertha_" approached.
"It jolly well strikes me," remarked Jackson, "that this is the missing
_Gladiator_, which I am told our old skipper expected to fall in with.
Poor chaps! They have all died, I expect, unless mayhap they took boat
and escaped. I suppose you gents won't want to go aboard?"
"Certainly we do," said Arthur. "That is why we came. Of course we shall
go; shan't we, doctor?"
"I should like to look round her," answered the doctor. "What do you
think, Jackson?"
"Well, sir, there's no harm, as far as I knows. But I think _I_
wouldn't, somehow!"
"Why?" asked Reginald. "What's the matter?"
"There ain't nothin' the matter," replied the cockswain, looking at the
men. "Still, if you're determined, and as I have orders not to stay by
the wreck, suppose I report, and come back for you later? There's grub
and guns, a rifle, and plenty of daylight for weeks yet, so----"
"All right!" cried Arthur; "hand us up."
The three adventurers climbed up the side of the vessel, and then the
beef in tins, the keg, the guns, rifle, and ammunition followed.
"I suppose it _is_ all right?" asked the doctor, as the men prepared to
go back. "You _will_ return?"
"Oh, we'll come back," laughed the stroke oarsman, an ugly-looking
customer. "_You're_ all right!"
"I'd rather you'd pull in with us," said Jackson, "I would indeed. I
can't wait. Here take this, sir."
"Nonsense!" cried Arthur. "This is real right down Robinson Crusoe
business! Don't hurry back. Ta, ta! What did he give you, doctor?"
The cockswain waved his hand in farewell. The men gave way, and the boat
quickly left the derelict and gradually was hidden in the still
gathering mist, for the breeze was "northing."
Mr. Halbrake made no answer to Arthur's question. He was watching the
boat. Then perceiving that the man had handed him some tobacco, he put
it in his pocket, having already sufficient for present use. The lads
had meantime left him, and he went aft to join them, but he suddenly
became conscious of the insecurity of their position--and future!
What if this was a planned trick? Had the commander taken this
opportunity to rid himself of the passengers? Jackson could not say much
before the men, but, as the doctor now recalled with a fast-beating
heart, he had given them broad hints--suggested food; the guns had been
the commander's idea. What for? Why had he given them fire-arms?
With a mind far from easy, Mr. Halbrake rejoined the lads, who were
about to descend into the cabin, or "saloon" as they pleased to call it.
It was at best a wretched place to sleep in, but, under the
circumstances, almost repulsive to the surgeon.
Arthur was in high spirits when he descended. Reginald liked the
adventure also. The long-promised "lark" had appeared, had descended on
the snow-clad berg, and had taken up its abode upon the derelict for the
time being! Therefore the lads were delighted, and skipped down
cheerfully. But when they had penetrated into the so-called cabin they
paused and listened.
"Didn't you hear a noise, doctor?" asked Reggie.
"No; what kind of noise?" said Halbrake, coming up.
"I think I heard a grunt, or something like it," said Arthur, "a yawn,
or like that."
"Perhaps some men are in the bunks there," suggested Reginald.
"Oh, no! the place seems to me too bad. Let us return; the look of the
place is enough for me. We need not search far; the cabin would be quite
unbearable in a warmer climate."
"I think I saw something," said Reginald. "Look! what are those? Cubs!
Run, Arthur; get the guns. Here come the animals. Run, doctor!"
In the dim light two curious objects appeared, and though Halbrake did
not think any bears could be there, he retreated on deck before the two
animals, which walked upright and had come to meet him. They seemed to
be a pair of fine bear-cubs, ragged and dirty. As the animals advanced
up the ladder, the adventurers all retreated astern to pick up the guns.
But the creatures took no notice of them, and in their turn retreated
forward into the forecastle.
"Let's shoot them," suggested Reginald.
"Wait a while," said Mr. Halbrake. "I do not think they are bears at
all. Suppose you and I go forward, Reginald, and investigate the matter.
Arthur can remain here on watch, and if anything alarm him, he can fire
his gun. That will suit you, Arthur; you will then be 'monarch of all
you survey.'"
"Very well; only look slippy, please, because I am not up to a big
bear-fight. However, I do not see anything very alarming. Make haste and
settle the business, because I am getting hungry."
The doctor and Reginald loaded their guns carefully, and went forward.
They disappeared down the fore-hatch. Arthur walked the after-deck and
went to peep down the cabin-stairs; he even inspected the main hatch,
and wondered what was within amidships. The vessel was deserted,
apparently, by every one except the two bears, which walked on their
hind-legs, and did not speak, as they would have done, he concluded, had
they been "only foreigners," not beasts.
Arthur listened for the discharge of the guns, but no sound reached him.
The fog had increased, and more icebergs appeared, very close too. They
were, in his opinion, closing in towards the derelict, and they might
crush it. The north-west wind was rising, and in that case snow and mist
were sure to envelop the ocean; and on the whole he decided that
Crusoe-life, unless upon a fine and well-supplied island, with
complaisant animals for companions, and plenty of shooting and books,
was a mistake.
The doctor and his companion had disappeared, and at length Arthur
became restless. He called out, then listened, but no reply came to him.
He did not wish to fire his gun unless on an emergency, but he felt
anxious, and the more so as the fog was encroaching; the bergs looked
more terrible, the silence became more distressing. He would have
welcomed a bear cub as a relief, but the stern cold silence of Nature
and the awful solitude of the derelict preyed upon his nerves.
At length, unable to sustain the strain any longer, Arthur lifted up his
voice and sent a _coo-ee_ through the fog which must have alarmed and
distressed the "King" penguins--birds which take a good deal of alarming
too. But even that only aroused in echo a chilling reply from the
sheltering berg in front.
[Illustration: "In the dim light two curious objects appeared."]
His late companions made no response at all, and Arthur Rushton made up
his mind to desert his post to seek them.
IV
The idea of playing "Crusoe" did not then appeal forcibly to the lad,
but just when he was thinking very seriously about himself and his
companions, he caught sight of them on the forecastle. They were
accompanied by the two small "bears" which had attacked them previously.
Arthur shouted with joy when he perceived them.
"Oh, I am so glad to see you," he exclaimed. "I thought you were dead!
How did you tame those animals? What queer beasts!"
"They are not beasts; they are men--savages if you like, but no beasts,"
replied the surgeon.
"I don't like them at all," replied Arthur. "But what are they then?"
"Fuegians. They have come from Tierra del Fuego. There is a Norwegian in
the forecastle very ill! He has been wrecked on the voyage round the
Horn, and it seems he and his friends picked these fellows up. The
Norwegians boarded the derelict weeks ago."
"Well, supposing they did, how did they get into the _Gladiator_?" asked
Arthur.
"That is what we have been learning. Their ship was disabled, and
drifted in this direction before a nor'-wester. It was entirely wrecked
on these islands, but fortunately the crew sighted the derelict. They
boarded her, starved here, and died here, all but this Northman and his
two companions. A terrible fate!"
"Perhaps we had better examine the vessel farther," suggested Reginald.
"There may be some other unfortunate fellows on board. Let us go."
This suggestion was acted upon, but not until the doctor's advice as
regarded a meal had been taken. "We shall require some food," he said;
"so let us brace ourselves up before we encounter what may prove
unpleasant incidents."
So the tinned beef, biscuits, and the grog were partly disposed of, the
savages also assisting in the feast. Then the exploration began. It was
not altogether pleasant to begin with, and amidships and 'tween-decks
the revelations were extremely nasty. The dead, frozen bodies, the
aspects of the remains of the seals, the blubber, and the congealed
blood, were too horrible, and combined to cause the adventurers to beat
a hasty retreat. They all shuddered at the future prospect. If fate had
an intention of keeping them on the derelict, the result would be fatal
to them.
Fortunately they came upon a store of food in the captain's cabin, and
thus were at ease for the present. Even if they were compelled to remain
a few days longer, they need not be hungry. Then, not till then, came
the idea of their situation and prospects. The mist had increased, and
even Arthur began to tire of Crusoe experiences in the derelict.
"I wonder where we are," said Reginald, after a long, silent survey of
the surroundings.
"Never mind where we are," replied Arthur snappishly; "let us get out of
it, wherever it is. What do you think, Mr. Halbrake?"
"Well, suppose you and Reginald take the guns and try and shoot some
penguins yonder. Meantime I will find fuel, and light a fire in the
galley; so, even supposing the boat cannot reach us this evening, we
shall be comfortable."
"Jolly!" was the reply, as the lads accoutred themselves for the
expedition on the snow. They descended carefully, and passed over the
ice to the deep snowy surface beyond it, sinking deeply at each step,
and leaving a trail unmistakable.
The adventurers advanced cautiously, and perceived that the derelict had
been driven upon the ice forward, while the stern still floated.
However, she appeared firm; and, after staring at the great massive berg
so close to them, so beautiful in its purity, so terrible in its
calmness even in inaction, the lads advanced from the starboard side of
the vessel, towards some seals, near which many penguins were resting
themselves. Some of the latter actually leaped out of the "ice pools"
upon the snowfield as the lads proceeded.
"Let's get close and blaze away," said Reginald. "Those birds will make
soup, the doctor said."
"Look at those seals! they appear quite tame. That one," indicating a
great, white-faced animal, "winked at me, Reggie; he really did. Now,
look out!"
The lads had approached the penguins, and fired together. A brace fell,
and the remainder of the birds scurried away, flapping, and pushing
themselves along the snow like queer animated canoes. They made a
curious "quacking" noise as they paddled away like aldermanic waiters,
in black coats and white waistcoats, seen through the small end of an
opera-glass. Their movements were very funny, and the lads laughed
heartily at the evolutions of the penguins.
Several birds were secured, amongst them being a few "Cape pigeons,"
which, as Arthur remarked, had no "good hope" of returning thither. He
would have been severely snubbed by his brother for this remark had not
Reginald's attention been directed to the derelict, which appeared to be
moving!
"Hullo!" he exclaimed; "the vessel is off the ice. Hurry up, Arthur,
else we shall be left behind. Lucky we didn't go far!"
This was alarming news. The lads plunged into the snow deep in their
tracks; the penguins danced and signalled with their flippers, as if in
sympathy, or pleasure, at the occurrence. The lads sank deeply in the
white carpet, shouting at times to the doctor. The stillness of the air
enabled him to hear their cries, and by them he was made aware of the
state of the case, which he had hitherto not suspected. But he had
evidently gained the confidence of the two "Bears," for they plunged,
waded, or swam to the assistance of the lads, and rescued them,
dripping, freezing, numbed, from the grasp of the ice-king; they were
all assisted on board the derelict by the surgeon.
He had lighted a fire; and when the half-frozen and wholly saturated
lads and the "Bears" had been rescued, the former were put into bunks in
the cabin and fed with hot broth. The savages did not mind the wetting;
they dried by the fire, and were also fed. But when, late next day, the
lads dressed, their clothes were ruined. They looked as if they had
purchased the wardrobe of a "scarecrow" from a rag-and-bone merchant who
had become insolvent.
The sun was setting in the southward as they came up. One can hardly say
"setting," though, because it only dipped into the horizon a little way,
and came up again on the rim of the ice-field. The silence was peculiar,
the air sparkling and bracing, by no means _very_ cold. The sea, where
visible, was like a mirror; the mist had receded to the north, the south
was clear. The floes were intersected by canals of sea-water, and the
distant ice-fields looked like a series of snow-clad water-meadows in
which the channels had been half frozen. Farther away the "canals"
closed up, and apparently composed a level ice-continent to the
sky-line. The effect was beautiful, charming, and altogether delightful;
the colours of sky, ice, and water being immensely varied and most
artistically combined on Nature's pallet.
* * * * *
The derelict drifted and the sick men died. The weather became
uncertain, alternating mist and thin snow with gales and fierce winds,
which caused the adventurers much alarm. The tossings and the crashes
and bumpings of the ice caused the little barque to leak seriously, and
to threaten dissolution. The end appeared near, and even the stolid
"Bears" seemed upset; but release came to them all at last.
"A ship! The barque! There, lying beside that sheltering berg.
Shout--fire guns--yell loud!"
[Illustration: "The end appeared near."]
Reginald had spied the vessel lying snugly under the lee of the berg,
and the three friends at once proceeded to shout and fire shots as
suggested. Five days had been passed by the party in the derelict, and
the adventurers were satisfied with the experience.
After some delay, and while they were speculating upon whether the mate
had heard the shots, a boat was lowered from the _Bertha_ and put out
for the derelict. But the channels were so winding that it was quite an
hour before the boat reached the sinking ship, and fears of ultimate
rescue were expressed by the lads.
Jackson was steering the boat, which came alongside. He climbed up, and
stood staring at the whole party in silence, his eyes passing from one
to another in turn.
"Well, I _am_ busted!" he exclaimed at last. "Who expected to see you
and them funny devils? Good job the mate's shot. Who did it, eh?"
"Shot!" exclaimed the three friends. "What do you mean?"
"Why, this. One of your bullets came along and hit him full in the
chest. It settled him, you may depend. 'Spect you ain't so sorry, eh?"
"I really do not understand you," said the surgeon. "Did you not expect
to see us again? Do you mean _that we were sent away to die_?"
"Well, sir, not you especial. But, sir, I could tell you a secret," he
added, as his ruddy face became redder than his hearers', which were
already well "burnt" by the snow and wind. "Have you been smoking
tobacco?"
"Yes," replied the surgeon. "But what has that to do with the question?"
"Have you smoked what I gave you? No! Then look at the paper. There it
is!"
Mr. Halbrake unrolled the stained wrapper which enclosed the "twist,"
and discovered a written communication--"_To the Captain!_" He read as
follows:--
"_There are traitors on board, captain! Oh, be careful of my boys. I
cannot tell you anything. I know nothing, but I fear the worst. Be on
your guard. May God keep you! I pray for my sons and you!_"
"What's this," gasped Halbrake. "The disputed letter! The warning! Look
here, boys!"
"Mother's writing!" they exclaimed. "Dearest mother! She _did_ suspect,
then! Oh that mate!"
"Who are the traitors, Jackson?" asked Mr. Halbrake. "I must and shall
know, if I ruin myself to find out."
"Then you'll never do that either way. They are cowed now, whoever they
are. The game is up, and what I suspects I sha'n't tell. Let them be,
sir."
"And who was so infamous as to desire--to suggest our ...
disappearance?" asked the surgeon, savagely.
"Ah! there I can't help you. I don't know. That's a fact. Now,
gentlemen, you're waited for. Come away! What about these two 'Guy
Foxes' here? what's to be done about them? Best take 'em and drop them
somewhere."
No reply was made to this remark. The boys were thinking of their
mother, and of the terrible crime into which their step-father had
plunged: the death of the mate his accomplice, and the narrow escape
they had had! The captain had already been sacrificed. Alas! no
reparation could be made to him! The mate had paid the penalty of his
ill-doings--by accident--by chance!
Who could say it was "by chance"? When the rifle was placed in the boat,
he had joked about it, and it had caused his death! Was not then the
finger of Providence evident? Otherwise, he might have escaped, till,
even if he had been convicted in England, the disclosure of the plot
would have been disastrous to the family at home. Yes, the best had
happened! There is no "chance" in life.
The surgeon and his party returned to the _Bertha_, leaving the derelict
and her cargo to the sea to give up her dead. The mate's body was buried
in the cold Antarctic Ocean, and the barque sailed for England. Jackson
informed the lads of the manner in which Esau met his death. "He was in
the 'crow's nest,'" said the sailor, "looking out; whether he expected
to see you or not, we needn't say. May-be he didn't want to! But when
you fired the rifle first time, the bullet--aimed high, mind you--hit
him full, and he fell dead in the barrel aloft. Awful sudden it was!
Then Stevens told us to go for you; and I 'spect we'd a' done that
anyway. I was lookin' out for ye myself! There was friends aboard."
"I hope not many of you were concerned with the mate, Jackson," asked
the surgeon.
"Oh, well, some was. But no one is now. Of course, if any was really in
it all, they'd give in, and tack off the shoal pretty quick! Esau was
the prop, d'ye see! I was keepin' a look-out for you."
"Thank you, Jackson. I am sure we are greatly indebted to you; and when
we reach England again you shall all receive your deserts in full."
This decision did not appear very promising to Jackson, who touched his
cap and went forward amid his mates. But nothing untoward occurred
during the passage home; there was nothing to complain of all the while.
The _Bertha_ returned after a three months' struggle against tempests
and opposing winds. The Fuegians died on the voyage home, but the
barque, her crew, and passengers, reached Plymouth in safety, and
anchored in the Cattwater.
Mr. Halbrake immediately went ashore with the Rushtons to telegraph the
arrival and to report. When he returned to the _Bertha_, he learned that
the crew, with the exception of Stevens, the two engineers, Jackson, and
twelve hands, had taken French leave and decamped! This was an eloquent
testimony to the intentions of Mr. Cordell and his associates.
So soon as Mr. Halbrake had placed the barque in the hands of his
uncle's agent, he hastened to Mr. Boscombe's residence in the
neighbourhood of Exmouth. There a sinister rumour met him. He learned
from the hotel manager in the town that the young gentlemen had
unexpectedly returned from abroad; that Mr. Boscombe had suddenly left
home on important business the next day, and was reported dead!
This rumour was based upon the testimony of an old fisherman, whose boat
had been hired that night by a gentleman whose appearance tallied with
that of Mr. Boscombe.
When Mr. Halbrake learned this, he returned to Plymouth and wrote to
Reginald, who replied that his step-father had certainly left home,
after a most unpleasant discussion; that he himself, his mother, and
Arthur intended to sell the house and leave the neighbourhood, because
no doubt of his step-father's fate remained. The boat Mr. Boscombe had
hired had been found by a crew of "lobstermen," empty, on the morning
after his departure, out at sea.
This was the last link in the terrible chain of crime which the
insatiable love of money engendered in the merchant's soul. Let us close
the sad chapter here.
* * * * *
Reginald, Arthur, and their loving mother came up to London, where in
due time the young men appeared. Reginald went into the Church, Arthur
became a barrister, and Mr. Halbrake still practises his profession.
Indeed, it is from him that the writer of this tale obtained the
information which has resulted in this narrative of the "Venture of the
_Bertha_," which so nearly ended in the deaths of the young men
themselves.
"A FRENCHMAN'S GRATITUDE;"
_OR, THE DISASTER OF EL HAMET_
BY LIEUT.-COL. PERCY GROVES, ROYAL GUERNSEY ARTILLERY (LATE 27TH
INNISKILLINGS)
_Author of "From Cadet to Captain," "Reefer and Rifleman," "A
Soldier Born," "On Service," "With the Green Jackets," "Scotland
for Ever," &c. &c._
CHAPTER I
A BIRTHDAY PRESENT--OFF TO THE WARS--AN ADVENTURE AT MESSINA
"Tom, my dear boy," said my father, Colonel Sir John Cotton, K.B., as he
entered the breakfast room on the morning of the 18th September 1806, "I
wish you many happy returns of to-day. There's a present which will give
you genuine pleasure," he went on, handing me a formidable-looking
letter; "it is your appointment to an ensigncy in my old regiment, the
gallant 35th."
I had that day attained my seventeenth year, and was at home on a short
_exeat_ from Eton; but now Eton would know me no more--at least, not as
a fifth-form boy--for had I not suddenly blossomed into a subaltern in
his Majesty's service? It was a proud moment, and I cannot recall any
event in my life that has caused me greater satisfaction.
I received the congratulations of my parents and sisters--I had no
brother--with becoming modesty; but the congratulations of the ladies
were turned into lamentations when Sir John informed us that I was to
embark, to join headquarters in Sicily, in a fortnight's time.
"John!" exclaimed my mother, the tears welling up into her eyes, "are we
really to lose the dear boy so soon?"
"What a shame!" chorused my three sisters.
"Nonsense! Tom has not entered the army to dangle about drawing-rooms
and exhibit himself in a red coat to all the young ladies of his
acquaintance," retorted my father. "The 35th lost a good many men at
Maida--egad! I wish I had been there--and a draft is going out to fill
up the gaps. Tom will sail with the draft, which is under command of our
friend Charles Holroyd, who--Halloa! where has Kate gone?" For my eldest
sister had hurriedly left the room.
"How thoughtless of you, John!" said my mother reproachfully.
"Yes, father," chimed in Miss Laura; "have you forgotten that Kate and
Captain Holroyd are engaged?"
"And she had no idea that he was going abroad again so soon," added
Annie; "he only came home early in August!"
"Tut! tut! I am always putting my foot in it," exclaimed Sir John,
looking very guilty. "Poor Katie! she will lose her lover and her
brother at the same time."
This unfortunate remark called forth a flood of tears from the ladies,
and muttering something about being "a blundering old idiot," my father
beat a hasty retreat.
Captain Charles Holroyd--the mention of whose name caused our family
circle to break up "i' the most admir'd disorder"--had served in the
35th with my father, with whom he was a great favourite. Holroyd now
commanded the light company of the 35th, and was home on sick leave, in
consequence of a wound received at the battle of Maida. He had not long
been engaged to my sister, who, until Sir John spoke, knew nothing of
his approaching departure. _Hinc illæ lachrymæ_!
The next two weeks were busy ones--uniforms and necessaries had to be
ordered, farewell visits to relatives and friends paid, &c.--and they
passed all too quickly. It was a wrench to leave the dear ones at home,
and both Charles Holroyd and I were in very subdued spirits when we
jumped into the post-chaise which was to take us to Gravesend, there to
embark on board the _Lord Bacon_, a battered, wall-sided old collier,
whose owners found it more profitable to carry troops to the
Mediterranean than coals from Newcastle.
Adverse winds kept us bobbing about in the Downs for several days. Then
we met with heavy weather in the Bay of Biscay. Thus it was not until
the middle of November that we disembarked at Messina, where the
headquarters and flank companies of the 35th were stationed. I received
a cordial welcome from my brother officers, and quickly became quite at
home amongst them. They all appeared pleased to have the son of their
old colonel in the regiment.
At the request of Charles Holroyd, I was posted to the light company; a
great honour for a newly-fledged ensign, though one I owed rather to
Holroyd's influence, and the respect felt for my father, than to my own
merits.
The adjutant and drill-sergeant soon initiated me into the mysteries of
drill, guards, &c., and at the end of six weeks I was reported fit for
duty.
I have no intention of giving any account of my life during the time I
remained at Messina, but will pass at once to an adventure which befell
me a few weeks before the departure of the regiment from Sicily.
At that time there were in Messina several French officers on parole;
amongst them a certain Lieutenant Eugene de Vignes. De Vignes was a
gentlemanly, well-bred man of six or seven and twenty, and as he spoke
a little English, and seemed to wish to be friendly, Holroyd and I
struck up an acquaintance with him. He used to ride and walk with us,
and often passed an evening at our quarters; when he would relate his
experiences of service, under "_Le Petit Caporal_," in Italy and Egypt.
After a while we began to see less of De Vignes, and his evening visits
almost entirely ceased; though, when we did meet, he was as pleasant and
companionable as ever. One night, towards the end of January 1807, I was
returning to my quarters, after visiting a brother subaltern at the
other side of the town. Part of my way lay along a lonely road, skirting
the garden walls of a convent, in which many young Sicilian ladies of
noble family were domiciled. I had nearly reached the end of this wall,
when I heard a shrill scream, followed by angry shouts and other sounds
of strife. I immediately ran forward to the scene of action, and, though
it was very dark, could just discern four men assailing a fifth, who,
with his back to the wall, was making a stout defence. Naturally I
espoused the weaker cause, and in another minute three of the cowardly
assailants had fled, while the fourth lay on the ground with a
sword-thrust through his body.
[Illustration: "I immediately ran forward to the scene of action."]
"A thousand thanks, m'sieur!" exclaimed the man to whom I had rendered
such timely aid; "you have saved my life! That charge of yours was
splendid! it----"
"De Vignes!" I cried, recognising his voice.
"Ha! it is you, then, _mon ami_," he said, wiping the blade of his
sword. "I shall never forget this service. Are you alone?"
"Yes. Why did the ruffians attack you?"
"Hope of plunder, I suppose," replied De Vignes, shrugging his
shoulders. And stooping down he proceeded to examine his fallen foe.
"Have you killed him?" I asked.
"He still breathes, and might be saved if we could get assistance."
"I am afraid there will be trouble over this business," I remarked,
wishing that my friend had not been quite so handy with his sword.
"Bah! these little affairs are common enough in Sicily," De Vignes
rejoined. "However, we may as well try to save his life. Will you go for
help? There is a house some fifty yards down the road, and I shall want
water, rags for bandages, and a little cognac or other spirit."
"Suppose the other ruffians return?" I objected.
"They will not return," he answered impatiently. "Come, _mon ami_! be
quick, I pray you, or this unhappy wretch will bleed to death." Thus
exhorted, I started off down the road; but not a sign of any sort of
habitation could I discover.
I retraced my steps, and on reaching the spot where the encounter took
place, found, to my astonishment, that both De Vignes and the wounded
robber had disappeared--not a trace of them was to be seen! I waited
about a few minutes, and then hastened to my quarters.
Charles Holroyd had not gone to bed when I returned, and to him I
related my adventure.
"It is a queer business," he remarked; "seems to me that our French
friend sent you on a fool's errand, with the express intention of
getting rid of you."
"I believe he did," I answered. "Shall I make an official report of the
affair?"
"We will see what the colonel says, Tom," was his reply.
On the following morning there was a terrible hue and cry, for the
daughter of Prince T---- was missing from the convent, and one of his
Highness's servants had been found dead in a ditch hard by the convent
walls, with a sword-thrust through his heart.
"There can be no doubt the young woman has gone off with De Vignes,"
said my captain when we heard the news. "They were probably watched and
surprised by the prince's servants. You say you heard a woman scream?"
"I am certain of that."
"Just so," continued Holroyd; "I see the whole thing! She got away, and
her lover covered her retreat; then you came to the rescue, and his
assailants having fled, De Vignes wanted to rejoin the girl without your
knowledge; so he sent you off on pretence of seeking aid for the wounded
man, and, as soon as he had got rid of you, bolted himself. Tom, we will
hold our tongues about this affair."
That Holroyd was right in his conjectures was pretty evident, for we
saw no more of Eugene de Vignes in Messina; though we were destined to
meet him again elsewhere.
CHAPTER II
DEPARTURE FROM MESSINA--LANDING IN EGYPT--FIRST SUCCESSES--REVERSE
AT ROSETTA--OCCUPATION OF EL HAMET--SIEGE OF ROSETTA COMMENCED
"'I thought I heard the general say,
Strike your tents at break of day;
Strike your tents and march away,
March, march away!'"
sang, or rather shouted, Lieutenant Patrick Cantillon of the light
company, as he burst into our quarters one hot afternoon, a few weeks
subsequent to my adventure on the convent road.
"Tom, ye lazy divil! is it sleepin' ye are?" And he caught me a whack on
the shoulder that nearly knocked me out of my chair.
"Don't make such a confounded row, Paddy!" I exclaimed irritably; for I
had been indulging in a _siesta_, and this "rude awakening" startled me
not a little. "Why the deuce can't you come in quietly?"
"Come in quietly, bedad!--hark to him!" cried my brother sub, capering
round the room. "Sure, man, am I not ready to jump out of me skin!"
"Then I wish you'd jump out of it somewhere else," I retorted. "What's
the matter with you?"
"Listen while I tell ye, alannah," said Paddy, coming to an anchor on my
camp-bed. "May-be ye know that some six years ago we kicked the French
out of Egypt, and put the Turks in possession of Alexandria and other
towns on the Egyptian coast. Now Boney has humbugged the Sultan to enter
into an alliance with France; so our Government--more power to its
elbow!--has decided to send an expedition to turn the Turks out of the
very places we turned them into; in short, we're goin' to punish the
haythins for havin' the impudence to hobnob and make friends with the
French."
"And are we to join this expedition, Paddy?" I asked.
"We are, me son," was the reply.
Paddy Cantillon's news proved to be true. Orders had already been issued
for an expedition to be fitted out in Sicily, for the purpose of making
a descent on the coast of Egypt, and occupying Alexandria and Rosetta,
and the same evening it was officially notified that the 35th would be
one of the regiments employed on this service.
The expedition sailed from Sicily on the 6th March. The military force
was under Major-General Mackenzie Fraser, and consisted of the 20th
Light Dragoons,[1] a detachment of artillery, the 31st, 35th, 78th, and
De Rolle's regiments, and the Chasseurs Britanniques.[2] We encountered
very bad weather shortly after putting to sea; nineteen sail parted
company on the night of the 7th, and it was not until the 15th that we
sighted the Arabs' Tower.
[1] The 20th Light Dragoons--raised as the Jamaica Light Horse
in 1791, styled the 20th Light Dragoons in 1794, and disbanded
in 1817.
[2] De Rolle's Regiment and the Chasseurs Britanniques--foreign
corps in British pay. Both were disbanded or absorbed in 1814-15.
Before allowing the transports to approach within sight of the coast,
our commodore (Captain Hallowell of the _Apollo_, 74) ran in-shore to
obtain some information. Major Misset, the British resident at
Alexandria, advised an immediate landing, assuring the commodore that
the inhabitants were favourably disposed towards us, and inimical to the
French; accordingly the transports were signalled to stand close in, as
soon as the squadron anchored in the western harbour. A summons to
surrender was then sent to the Turkish governor, which he promptly
declined.
The weather was still very heavy, and a nasty sea was running;
nevertheless our leaders decided to land an advanced party at once. This
party, which included the light company of the 35th, numbered a thousand
men, under command of Colonel John Oswald of the 35th.
We effected a landing without serious opposition, and next morning
carried the western lines and forts, driving out the Turks and taking
several guns. Meanwhile the castle of Aboukir having surrendered, the
remainder of the transports stood in and anchored in the bay. Seeing
that we meant business, the Governor of Alexandria capitulated on the
21st March, and we took possession of the city, harbour, and fortresses.
Thus far success had attended our arms; but we were now to meet with the
first of those reverses which culminated in the disaster of El Hamet.
Our naval force having been augmented by the arrival of Sir John
Duckworth's squadron from the Dardanelles, it was decided to attack
Rosetta. On the 26th March, Major-General Wauchope, with the 31st and
Chasseurs Britanniques, marched against Rosetta, and occupied the
heights of Abourmandour, which command that town. Rosetta is situated
some five miles from a branch of the Nile, in a beautiful district
covered with date, pomegranate, banana, and other trees. The town is
surrounded by a low wall, and its streets are very narrow--in fact, mere
lanes and alleys.
On the 28th, Wauchope entered Rosetta at the head of the 31st Regiment.
Not a soul was astir, not a sound was heard, as our troops wended their
way through the streets towards the market-place in the centre of the
town; but they had barely got half-way when the death-like silence was
broken by a furious fusillade. From the windows and roof of every house
a deadly fire was poured upon them. Cooped up in the narrow streets,
unable to return the hidden enemy's fire, our gallant fellows fell
fast. Wauchope was shot dead, his second-in-command seriously wounded,
and in a short time nearly three hundred officers and men were placed
_hors de combat_. There was no alternative but a retreat, and so the
remnants of Wauchope's force returned to Alexandria.
Though not a little disconcerted by this serious and unexpected reverse,
Fraser determined to make another attempt on Rosetta; indeed the
reduction of that town was necessary to the safe possession of
Alexandria, now threatened with famine.
The execution of this second attack was entrusted to Brigadier-General
the Hon. William Stewart, with a force consisting of detachments of the
20th Light Dragoons and Royal Artillery, the 35th, 78th Highlanders, De
Rolle's Regiment, and two hundred sailors from the fleet.
We quitted Alexandria, in the highest spirits, on the 5th April, and
advanced towards Rosetta by way of the village and lake of Edko, where a
depôt was established. Before advancing to Abourmandour, Stewart
considered it advisable to drive the enemy away from El Hamet--a village
up the Nile, some two leagues above Rosetta--and take possession of the
place, in order to secure his rear, and an uninterrupted communication
with the depôt on Lake Edko. This service was successfully accomplished
on the 6th, and El Hamet was occupied by a strong detachment of De
Rolle's, under Major Vogelsang.
On the following day the heights and fort of Abourmandour were
reoccupied without opposition. A summons to surrender being
contemptuously ignored by the Turkish commandant of Rosetta (who had
been reinforced by a corps of Albanians), Stewart advanced to the
sand-hills encircling the town, which he at once proceeded to invest.
From the great extent of Rosetta, our brigadier saw it would be
impossible, with the slender force at his disposal, to invest more than
half of the place; so he took up a line from the Nile to the front of
the Alexandrian gate, thence retiring towards the plain, where he posted
his light dragoons. Rosetta being thus only partially invested, its
garrison had a free communication across the Nile to the Delta.
At this time Stewart confidently expected to be reinforced by the
Mamelukes, from Upper Egypt, who were known to be inimical to the
French, and at loggerheads with Mohammed Ali, but day after day passed
without any appearance of these redoubtable warriors. The siege,
however, was carried on with great vigour; our gunners hammered away at
Rosetta, without doing any great harm to the Turks (whose numbers daily
increased), while we of the infantry were constantly employed on piquet
and other harassing duties. Our piquets and advanced posts were several
times attacked, and on the 19th April a company of De Rolle's was
surrounded and cut to pieces by the Turkish horsemen.
CHAPTER III
EL HAMET--AN UNWELCOME DUTY--CHARLES HOLROYD SPEAKS HIS MIND--THE
BEGINNING OF THE END
Before continuing my narrative, I will briefly state the position of El
Hamet. From Lake Edko to the Nile is an isthmus about two and a half
miles in extent, varying according to the depth of water in the lake.
The remains of a deep dry canal with high banks extend from the river
nearly two-thirds across the isthmus, the banks commanding the plain on
either side; and on the south side of the canal, about half-way across
the isthmus, is the village of El Hamet. On the banks of the Nile and at
El Hamet are the only regular passes through the banks of the canal.
News of the disaster to the company of De Rolle's Regiment reached
General Stewart early on the 20th April, and he immediately despatched a
force, under Lieutenant-Colonel Patrick Macleod (commanding the 2nd
Battalion 78th[1]), to reinforce Vogelsang. Macleod's force was composed
of a piquet of the 20th Light Dragoons, two guns, two companies of the
35th, and five of the 78th.
[1] This 2nd Battalion of the 78th (Ross-shire Buffs)
Highlanders was raised in 1804. Patrick Macleod was its first
commanding officer. The battalion distinguished itself at the
battle of Maida, and subsequently in the Netherlands. It was
reduced in 1816-17.
[Illustration: "Our gunners hammered away at Rosetta."]
On the afternoon of the 20th April our company was on duty in one of the
batteries. Charles Holroyd, Paddy Cantillon, and I were with the
company, none of us feeling particularly amiable. Our artillery had been
blazing away all day at Rosetta, while we had little or nothing to do
except to listen to the eternal "bang, bang" of the guns; a sort of
music that gets monotonous, especially when one wishes to indulge in
"forty winks."
"I'm sick of this business!" exclaimed Paddy, as we sat with our backs
against the parapet. "Sorra a bit of divarsion do I see in squattin' on
me hams in a damp ditch!"
"Take things as they come, Paddy," rejoined Holroyd, who was discussing
a piece of salt junk and a ship's biscuit. "Now, I should much prefer to
dine off a spatchcock or a devilled kidney, but as I can't get such
luxuries, I--Halloa, Harris! what ill wind blows you here?"
"An order for you, Holroyd," replied Harris, our worthy adjutant, who
came hurrying up at this moment. "The light company has been detailed as
an escort for an ammunition column about to start for El Hamet, and the
general desires you to deliver this despatch to Colonel Macleod."
"But we're on piquet, my dear fellow," expostulated Holroyd, not
relishing the idea of a long tramp across the desert. "Besides, it is
not our turn, you know; we only returned from escort duty last night.
Where is James's company?"
"Turning out to relieve you; he'll be here in five minutes," was the
reply.
"Then why not send him to El Hamet?" asked Holroyd.
"Because the general's orders are for the light company to go," answered
the adjutant; "so I have no choice in the matter."
"Very considerate of the general," growled my captain; "however, 'needs
must, when a certain old gentleman drives'!"
Guided by the adjutant, we marched to the spot where the ammunition
column was awaiting us, and in half-an-hour we were on our way across
the desert to El Hamet.
Every march comes to an end, and it was with a deep sigh of relief that
we at length reached El Hamet. Holroyd at once went off to report his
arrival and deliver the despatch to Colonel Macleod, while we waited his
return, fondly hoping that we should be dismissed to a well-earned rest.
We were, however, doomed to disappointment.
Our captain soon rejoined us, and I knew at once, by the expression of
his face, that he was thoroughly put out.
"Light company," said he, in short, sharp tones, "there'll be no rest
for any of us to-night. Colonel Macleod has desired me to take up a
position among the sand-hills in front of El Hamet, and remain there
until further orders. You can fall out for a few minutes, and make the
best meal you can on what you've got in your haversacks. A ration of
cooked beef, biscuit, and rum will be issued to each man shortly after
daybreak."
"Faith, this is a pleasant state of affairs!" grumbled Cantillon, as we
moved away from the company.
"Does Colonel Macleod expect an attack before daybreak?" I asked.
"I suppose he does," Holroyd replied, "for he said a great deal about
the necessity for vigilance; though he neither gave me any idea from
what quarter danger is to be chiefly apprehended, nor of his plans in
the event of a sudden attack in overwhelming force. I feel sure," he
went on, "that Colonel Macleod is wrong in posting us so far in advance
of El Hamet, as it will be impossible to keep up communication, except
by occasional patrols; thus the company will stand a serious risk of
being cut off, and the village, which, I understand, we are supposed to
protect, will be placed in jeopardy."
Rather surprised at these critical remarks, I ventured to remind my
captain that Generals Fraser and Stewart thought very highly of Colonel
Macleod, and that the 78th Highlanders swore by him.
"True, Tom," rejoined Holroyd. "Macleod's character as a regimental
commander most deservedly stands high, and a braver man there is not in
the British army; nevertheless, judging by what I have heard and
observed, I don't think he is the right sort of officer to hold a
separate command at an important post. He lacks firmness and promptness
of decision, and should an emergency arise, I much doubt if he will be
properly prepared to meet it. Anyhow, I intend to use my own judgment in
taking up the position assigned to us, and instead of moving the whole
company up to the sand-hills, I shall leave Cantillon, with the left
subdivision, half-way between them and the village. We shall then have a
support to fall back on if hard pressed."
"What of the Mamelukes?--have they turned up?" asked Paddy.
"Not that I know of," was the reply. "The ammunition we escorted is
intended for them; but my own impression is that Mohammed Ali will make
up his differences with their beys, and if we see them at all it will
be as enemies, not allies. Let us rejoin the men; it is time we were
moving."
Leaving Cantillon, with half the company, under a clump of date-trees,
Holroyd led the way to the sand-hills, where he posted our men to the
best advantage--a sergeant, corporal, and four files being stationed as
an outpost on a slight eminence a little to our right front. Having
taken up our position, we anxiously waited events, keeping a very sharp
look-out.
CHAPTER IV
AN ALARM--NOT FRIENDS, BUT FOES--AN UNHEEDED REPORT--AN ANXIOUS
NIGHT
Shortly after midnight the corporal hurried in from the outpost to
report that a _djerm_ (large boat), crowded with men, had been observed
dropping down the river.
"Did you see this _djerm_ yourself, Corporal Jones?" asked Holroyd,
jumping to his feet.
"Plain as I sees your honour," was the corporal's reply. "We all see it,
sir; for the moon's so bright that it's just as clear as day. Sergeant
Finnigan says as how he thinks it's them Mammyluks as there's been such
talk about."
"The deuce he does!" exclaimed Holroyd. "Whereabouts is this _djerm_? On
our side of the river?"
"Yes, your honour; 'twas nigh that chapel-looking place on the river
bank."
"Chapel-looking place! You mean the mosque, I suppose," said Holroyd,
smiling. "Come, Tom, we'll go and see for ourselves. Take charge until I
return, Sergeant Bullen, and be well on the alert."
We hastened to the outpost, where we found Sergeant Finnigan with his
men ready for any emergency. Close to the river bank, within four
hundred paces of the outpost, stood a small mosque, its slender
crescent-crowned minaret shooting up gracefully from amid the dark
foliage by which it was surrounded.
[Illustration: "Very cautiously we made our way down the sand-hills."]
"There's a jham yonder, sorr," said Sergeant Finnigan, a fine old
fellow, who had put Charlie Holroyd through his facings when he first
joined the 35th, and had been my father's orderly in days of yore. "A
jham, your honour, full of Mammyluks, I'm afther thinkin'."
"I don't see her, Finnigan," rejoined Holroyd, looking in the direction
pointed out. "Where is she?"
"The clump of trees hides her, sorr," answered the sergeant; "but she's
there shure enough. Does your honour think they're the Mammyluks?"
"We'll hope so, Finnigan, but I have my doubts," said Holroyd. "Tom," he
added, after a moment's hesitation, "let you and I creep down nearer the
river, and have a look at this mysterious craft. We must discover
whether she's a friend or foe."
Very cautiously we made our way down the sand-hills, moving directly
towards the mosque for the first hundred yards, then edging away to the
left until we had a full view of the river.
This is what we saw. Just below the mosque were some fishermen's huts,
and a small wooden pier, or wharf, projecting into the Nile. Within a
couple of oars' length of the wharf lay, not _one_, but _two_ large
_djerms_, both filled with armed men. By the bright light of the moon we
could discern them as clearly as in daytime.
My companion had with him a small field-glass, through which he
carefully examined the _djerms_--or rather their occupants.
"Well, are they the Mamelukes?" I whispered impatiently.
"Egad! they're not," was the reply. "They are Albanians, without doubt,
and therefore enemies. Look for yourself, and you will see their kilts,
or petticoats."
I took the glass, and saw at once that Holroyd was right; there was no
mistaking the Albanian costume.
"There are between two and three hundred of them," said Holroyd, as I
returned the telescope. "I must report this at once, Tom."
We hurried back to the piquet, and Corporal Jones was sent off to warn
Colonel Macleod of the proximity of a large body of the enemy; while
another man took a message to Cantillon to advance nearer to the
sand-hills, and be on the _qui vive_ in case of a sudden attack.
"Not that I think they'll trouble us yet awhile," observed Holroyd; "so,
with the exception of advancing our support, I shall keep to our present
position until I receive further orders."
Corporal Jones made good use of his legs, for scarcely half-an-hour
elapsed before he returned to the outpost.
"Please, your honour," said he, saluting his captain, "the answer is
'All right.'"
"All right!" exclaimed Holroyd, his face darkening; "is that all Colonel
Macleod said to you?"
"That is all, sir," was the reply. "I gave the colonel your message,
just as your honour gave it to me, neither more nor less. 'Tell Capt'n
Holroyd it's all right,' says he. I saluted, and waited a moment,
thinkin' as how he'd say something more, or may-be ask me some
questions; but the colonel just waves me away, and says, 'D'ye hear me,
corp'ril?--tell your orficer it's all right.' So I comes back as quick
as I could, sir."
Holroyd and I stared at one another in astonishment. That Corporal Jones
had delivered the report and brought back the reply correctly we did not
for a moment doubt; for Jones was a steady, intelligent man, and
thoroughly trustworthy, or he would not have been a light company
corporal.
"What shall you do, Charlie?" I asked in an undertone. "There must be
some mistake."
"A very serious mistake, I should say," he rejoined. Then turning to the
corporal, he inquired if Colonel Macleod was in the village.
"No, sir," answered Jones; "the colonel's over yonder--away to our right
rear. There's a young orficer with a few men of Rolle's in the village,"
he added.
Holroyd thought for a few minutes, and then taking me aside, said, "I
must let them know in El Hamet the state of affairs, so that they may be
prepared in the event of a sudden attack. Do you, Tom, hurry back to the
village and warn the senior officer. Tell him that the enemy evidently
mean mischief, and that I advise him to look out for squalls. On your
way you can inform Cantillon of the situation, and say that he must be
ready to support us the moment he hears a shot fired."
I started off on my errand, and warned both Paddy Cantillon and the
officer at El Hamet--a young ensign of De Rolle's, Schmidt by name--that
they must be prepared for any emergency. On regaining the piquet, I
found that several more _djerms_ had dropped down the Nile, and were
lying off the little wharf. Holroyd had therefore sent a written report
to Colonel Macleod, calling his attention to the gravity of the
situation and requesting instructions.
Corporal Jones was again the messenger, and his face was a study when he
returned, and reported that the only answer vouchsafed by the colonel
was "Very well."
"You told him that I awaited instructions?" said Holroyd, looking very
incensed.
"I did, sir; but the colonel only said 'Very well'; not another word,
good, bad, or indifferent, your honour."
"Tom, this is too grave a contingency to be trifled with," said my
captain, taking me aside; "and as Macleod has sent me no orders, I must
act on my own responsibility. I fear that our force is so scattered that
it would be a dangerous matter to bring it together again; knowing this,
Macleod is probably unwilling to try the experiment, and so has
contented himself with sending a report to General Stewart of the
enemy's proximity. But," he continued, "I am not going to run the risk
of being cut off in such an exposed position as this, and therefore I
shall warn the officer at El Hamet to put the village into as good a
state of defence as time will allow, and we will cover him while so
employed. We shall then have something like a post to fall back on, if
driven in; for we ought to be able to make a very fair fight of it in
the village. Give me a leaf out of your note-book, Tom--I suppose that
young fellow understands English?"
"He speaks it fairly well," I answered, handing him a pencil and a piece
of paper.
Holroyd wrote his note and despatched it to the village; then we once
more took our station with the advanced outpost, in order to observe
the first hostile movement that might be made. Towards morning a thick
fog came on, completely hiding the mosque and river from our view;
indeed we could not see anything fifty yards before us, and had to trust
entirely to our ears.
I need hardly add that not one of us closed his eyes that night.
CHAPTER V
AN UNDESERVED REPROOF--COLONEL MACLEOD CONVINCED--THE ATTACK--EL
HAMET EVACUATED
The night passed without any attack being attempted; though once,
towards daybreak, we fancied that we heard the sound of marching men
approaching our post from the direction of the mosque, but the sound--if
it existed save in our heated imaginations--died away, and all again was
silent as the grave.
Towards seven o'clock in the morning--the river fog being then as dense
as ever--Colonel Macleod, accompanied by a staff officer and an orderly
dragoon, visited the piquet. The colonel looked pale and weary, as well
he might, and his face wore a peculiar irritable expression; in fact, he
had the appearance of a man worn out with anxiety and fatigue.
"You sent me two reports during the night, Captain Holroyd," he began,
in querulous tones, barely acknowledging our salute; "pray what do they
mean, sir?"
"Mean, colonel!" exclaimed Holroyd, his face flushing with anger.
"Exactly what they stated--namely, that since midnight the enemy have
been gathering in considerable force within gunshot of this spot. When I
sent you my second report, sir--a written report--no less than fifteen
large _djerms_, crowded with men, were moored in the river yonder. The
thick fog now hides them from your view, but there they were, and there,
I doubt not, they are at this moment."
"I don't think so," retorted Colonel Macleod; "were the enemy so close
at hand, in such numbers, we should at least _hear_ them. Now, sir,
since the fog came on, have you heard any sound that would indicate the
proximity of a large body of troops?"
"I cannot say that I have, sir," Holroyd admitted; "though we
fancied----"
"Fancied!" interrupted Colonel Macleod. "Just so! It is my firm belief
that your own fancies have deceived you, and I must beg that, when on
outpost duty, you will take the trouble to make yourself better
acquainted with what is near you, and not send in reports of an enemy's
advance until you are absolutely certain there is really an enemy within
a couple of miles. In this case you have evidently mistaken a few
fishermen's boats for a hostile flotilla.
"I had intended to relieve you," continued Macleod; "but now--" He
stopped short, and uttered an exclamation of astonishment, for at that
moment a strange though perfectly natural thing happened.
The morning sun--as if anxious to prove the truth of Charles Holroyd's
statements, and confound the incredulous Highlander--suddenly appeared
struggling through the mist, and rapidly dispelling it. Away rolled the
fog, disclosing to our gaze a group of horsemen; conspicuous among whom
was a little man, pointing with a javelin to the right of our position.
Then arose upon the morning air a confused noise--beating of drums and
clashing of cymbals--and as the fog cleared off, there appeared before
us the Turkish army, numbering at least 6000 combatants, of whom perhaps
one-third were horsemen.
As soon as he recovered from his amazement, Colonel Macleod, like the
true Highland gentleman he was, turned to my companion, and extending
his hand, said--
"Captain Holroyd, I have done you an injustice! Allow me to recall the
remarks I made just now, and to offer an apology to you and the light
company of the 35th."
"Say no more, sir, I beg you," rejoined Holroyd, warmly shaking the
colonel's hand. "Your remarks are already forgotten."
[Illustration: "As the fog cleared off, there appeared before us the
Turkish army."]
We afterwards were thankful that we had not parted with the gallant
Macleod in anger; for, alas! destiny had willed that ere another sun
rose he should be
a thing
O'er which the raven flaps his funeral wing."
That my account of what followed may be better understood, I will here
state the order in which Colonel Macleod's force was disposed.
The range of low sand-hills stretching from Lake Edko to the Nile--a
distance of at least two miles--was everywhere accessible to infantry;
but, owing to the steepness of the slope and inequality of the surface,
cavalry could only operate against us at two points--namely, along a
road passing through El Hamet, and by fording the lake a few hundred
yards beyond the southern extremity of the ridge, where the water was
extremely shallow. Now, as Macleod's rear was covered by the dry,
steep-banked canal, and the road through El Hamet commanded by two
six-pounders, his position might have been accounted an excellent one
had it been properly manned (two thousand British troops, with a fair
proportion of artillery and an ample supply of ammunition, could have
held it till doomsday against ten times their number of Turks); but
unfortunately Macleod's entire force did not muster eight hundred men,
and he had only four six-pounder field-pieces. This slender corps had to
occupy and defend the entire line of sand-hills from one extremity to
the other, and it was distributed along that line as follows:--
The force was divided into three bodies: one, numbering some three
hundred men, being posted beside the river; a second, of about the same
strength, in the centre of the position; while the third, of which we
formed part, had to defend El Hamet, watch the road passing through the
village, and support the two guns enfilading that road. Thus there was
an interval of about three-quarters of a mile between the several
divisions; and in order that communications might be kept up, each
division had to throw out, right and left, small detachments, which took
post, here and there, along the ridge.
It is plain that a position thus held was practically at the mercy of a
greatly superior enemy; a couple of hundred resolute men would have been
sufficient to break through the scattered line at any point, save at the
principal defences, and a breach in the line at any point must
necessarily render the whole untenable. That the position must be forced
if a determined and well-sustained attack were made, was almost a
foregone conclusion; but I do not think any one anticipated the terrible
disaster which befell us on that fatal day.
To return to my narrative.
We stood for some minutes gazing at the Turkish force. Their infantry
was drawn up in detached bodies, each under its own banner; the
horsemen, in a solid mass, formed a second line.
"Look, sir," suddenly exclaimed the staff officer; "their cavalry has
separated!"
"I see, Vincent," rejoined Macleod. "The column moving off is evidently
ordered to cross the lake and turn our flank."
"While those who remain will no doubt support the infantry in an attack
on the village," observed Holroyd. "Shall I defend El Hamet, colonel?"
"Yes," cried Macleod, vaulting into his saddle; "to the last man!" and
putting spurs to his charger, he galloped to the rear.
Having re-formed the company, we marched back to El Hamet at a quick
step, and on the way were joined by two or three small parties which had
been ordered to retire from the sand-hills. On reaching the village, we
found that the officer and men of De Rolle's Regiment had made good use
of their time: the houses had been loop-holed, windows and doors
barricaded; in short, El Hamet was in a fairly defensible state.
"Come, we shall be able to hold out a long time!" exclaimed Holroyd
cheerfully. Then pointing to a building of considerable size and height,
he said, "Take the right section, Tom, and occupy the roof of that
house. Let the men make a parapet of their knapsacks, and open fire the
moment the enemy are within range. Don't throw a shot away, my lads."
I hastened to obey this order, and followed by Sergeant Finnigan and the
right section, ascended to the flat roof of the house. The men took off
their packs, and placed them against the low parapet, so as to afford
extra protection. From this elevated position we could see the Turkish
horsemen as they advanced towards the village, brandishing their
javelins and scimitars, and uttering loud cries of defiance.
"They're about within range, Misther Cotton," presently observed
Sergeant Finnigan. "Won't your honour open fire?" And I was about to
answer in the affirmative when I heard Holroyd calling to me.
"Tom!" he shouted, "we're to evacuate El Hamet. The guns are limbered
up, so come down at once."
There was nothing for it but to obey; so we quitted the roof, and joined
our comrades, who, with the detachment of De Rolle's, were forming up in
the narrow street, where the two six-pounders were waiting to start. We
soon cleared the village, and went away at a long trot, into the heart
of the sandy plain.
"Who ordered the evacuation?" I asked, as I found myself alongside of my
captain.
"Macleod," was the reply; "and I fear he has made a fatal mistake. But
the pace is too good for talking, Tom. We shall want all our breath
before we've done."
CHAPTER VI
THE RETREAT--AT BAY
Hardly were we clear of the village when the Turkish horsemen came
sweeping down into the plain, howling ferociously as they galloped here
and there. From time to time they made demonstrations of an immediate
attack, whereupon Holroyd would call a halt, and order the guns to
unlimber; but the moment the enemy saw the six-pounders at "action
rear," he retired out of range. Then the gunners limbered up, and we
resumed our march. This happened, I think, three or four times.
We had not got very far into the plain when we were joined by a
detachment of De Rolle's Regiment, under Major Vogelsang. The major, who
as senior officer assumed command, told us that Macleod had ordered him
to retire from his position, leaving a strong piquet to cover his
retreat, and move obliquely across the plain until he fell in with us.
We were then to join forces and wait for further orders.
"Colonel Macleod has ridden off to withdraw the remainder of the force,"
explained Vogelsang, in his broken English. "The colonel's intention is
to concentrate his force and stand on the defensive until Stewart comes
to our aid; but I fear the detachments are so scattered that they will
be cut off in detail."
"I agree with you, major," said Holroyd. "However, we must await
Macleod's arrival, and if attacked, make the best defence we can."
We then formed square with Vogelsang's men, the two field-pieces being
placed in the centre, and calmly awaited the arrival of Macleod with the
other divisions, or the onslaught of the enemy, whichever should come
first. Our combined force numbered about two hundred and fifty bayonets,
besides officers and artillerymen.
Although the enemy kept up his threatening attitude, we were not
seriously attacked; but it was evident, from the sound of heavy firing
on both our flanks, that Macleod, and Vogelsang's party which he had
left to cover his retreat, were having a very warm time of it. We became
terribly anxious about them, and would have given worlds to know how
they fared. Unfortunately we could only hear, not see the fighting; for
the country around us was like a sandy sea, broken up, so to speak, into
waves, or undulating mounds, not one of which was so sufficiently
elevated as to afford a commanding view from its summit over the rest.
In a short time the firing in the direction of the spot where we knew
Vogelsang's covering party was battling against terrible odds, began to
slacken, then it suddenly ceased. We looked at one another in horror,
for no one could doubt that our gallant comrades of De Rolle's must have
been overwhelmed.
"My poor fellows!" groaned Major Vogelsang, the tears streaming down his
rugged cheeks; "they must have perished to a man. Would that the
Highland colonel had permitted me to remain with them!"
Our attention was now attracted by a triumphant shout, and another body
of the enemy appeared in sight, racing to join their comrades, "as if
Ould Nick were at their heels," as Paddy Cantillon observed.
"Steady, flankers of the 35th!" cried Holroyd; "it's our turn now! Meet
them firmly, and, if needs must, let us die like British soldiers for
the honour of the old regiment!"
"Faith, an' we're ready to do that, your honour!" answered Sergeant
Finnigan. "Shure, divil a one of thim howlin' haythins shall--" The
gallant old fellow never finished the sentence, for at that moment a
score of the bolder horsemen charged up to within pistol-shot of the
square, and discharged their carbines at us.
They, I have no doubt, fired at random, but chance shots often do most
harm--one "bullet found its billet," and lodged in the brain of poor
Michael Finnigan.
A cry of rage burst from our men, for the sergeant was a general
favourite in the light company, and several of the younger hands
returned the fire without orders, emptying half-a-dozen saddles, and
sending the bold Turks scampering back.
"Steady, light company!" cried Holroyd angrily. "What are those men
thinking about? Our chance is a poor one if you're going to lose your
heads like this! Reload, lads, and don't fire again without orders."
"Good, Captain Holroyd!" said Major Vogelsang. "Steadiness is
everything! Ha! they are advancing again--down the front ranks!"
Instantly the order was obeyed: down on the knee dropped the front
ranks; while the rear ranks came to the "recover," and stood as
motionless as if on an inspection parade.
We now beheld three separate columns of horsemen, each equal, in point
of numbers, to our little force, moving rapidly towards us, one column
leading, the others in rear. As they drew nearer, the rear columns edged
off to their right and left, sweeping round so as to threaten the right
and left faces of our square.
Major Vogelsang now ordered the artillery to unlimber, and bring their
two guns into action, right and left; the centre sections of the right
and left faces being warned to fall back, so as to leave an opening for
the guns, as soon as the word was given.
On came the enemy until they were within about three hundred yards of
the square, when all three columns drew rein, as if to breathe their
horses.
"Now is your time, lieutenant!" said Vogelsang to the artillery officer.
"Fall back the centre sections!"
Quick as lightning our gunners ran up and laid their pieces. "Fire!"
shouted their officer, and plump went the six-pound shells into the
columns on our right and left, bursting well in the centre, and killing
or disabling several men and horses.
We gave a ringing cheer as the gunners coolly sponged out and reloaded
the guns, for our foes were thrown into great confusion, and we all
thought they would beat a precipitate retreat.
"The guns are loaded, sir," said the artillery subaltern; "shall I give
them another dose before they're out of range?"
But the words had hardly been spoken, when the Turkish horsemen wheeled
round and charged down upon us, with shrill cries of "_La la ha il
Allah! Vras! Vras!_"[1]
[1] "There is no god but God! Kill! Kill!"
Again the six-pounders were fired; then the centre sections closed up,
and the moment the Turks got within musket-range, our standing ranks
gave them a rattling volley, which knocked over several of them,
including one of their boldest leaders. This warm reception damped their
ardour, and once more they retired in confusion.
We young hands thought the day was our own, and rent the air with
cheers; some of the men even sprang forward as if to start in pursuit of
the retreating horsemen; but the stern voice of the veteran major
quickly recalled us to our senses.
Vogelsang now ordered the gunners to load, "to the muzzle," with grape
and canister, and the infantry to drop a running ball into their
muskets. "We will give them a still warmer welcome, my children!" he
exclaimed, with a laugh like the croak of a raven; "but you must be
steady, and not break your ranks."
Once again the turbaned warriors advanced to the attack, yelling like a
pack of fiends. A well-directed volley of double-shotted musketry
greeted them, yet they paused not in their wild career. Then the
six-pounders opened on the columns attacking our right and left faces,
and their salutation no mortal Turk could have withstood. The havoc
produced as the grape and canister tore through the serried ranks was
fearful, and with a cry of dismay the assailants of the right and left
sides of our square galloped off _ventre à terre_.
The third body of the enemy, however, undismayed by the repulse of their
comrades, held on their course, and charged right up to the rear face of
the square, where we were posted; almost up to our bayonets' points
they rode, and discharged their pistols, and launched their javelins
at us, killing and wounding several of our men. For a moment I feared
the square would be broken; but our rear rank had reloaded, and a second
volley sent the enemy to the right-about. Then we glanced around, and
saw that seven or eight of our men had been killed or wounded.
[Illustration: "Our standing ranks gave them a rattling volley."]
CHAPTER VII
DEATH OF COLONEL MACLEOD--APPEARANCE OF THE MAMELUKES--THE LAST
STAND--WOUNDED AND A PRISONER--A FRIEND IN NEED--"ALL'S WELL THAT
ENDS WELL"
While watching the movements and repelling the attacks of the Turkish
horsemen, we had, I fear, given little thought to Macleod's division;
but now we had a moment's breathing time, we remembered our comrades,
and became doubly anxious as to their fate. Heavy firing was still to be
heard to the right, and as we strained our ears it became evident that
the sound was drawing nearer.
"Be the powers! they're fighting their way towards us," exclaimed
Cantillon.
"There's no doubt of it," said Holroyd, after listening intently for a
moment.
"I wish we could get a look at them," Major Vogelsang added.
"See yonder mound, major?" said Paddy; "'tis a thrifle higher than the
rest. I'm the tallest man among ye, and maybe, if ye'll let me slip out,
I could get a peep at them. Sorra a bit of danger, major dear. I'll take
Corporal Jones with me;" and without waiting for permission, he called
to the corporal to follow him, and slipped out of the square.
The mound was less than a hundred yards distant. On reaching the
summit, Cantillon sprang on the corporal's shoulders--Jones was a very
powerful, athletic man--and stood upright. From this coign of vantage he
gazed intently in the direction of the firing; while we watched him
anxiously, fearing lest he should be shot by some lurking foe.
Presently Cantillon gave a shout, and jumping down, ran back at full
speed, followed by Corporal Jones.
"They're close at hand," he cried as he came up to the square, "fighting
like divils. We must go to their assistance, major, and join forces, if
possible."
"Are they broken?" asked Vogelsang.
"Divil a bit, sir," was the reply; "but they're attacked on all sides by
ten times their number, and the haythins who have been hammering at us
are now having----"
"That's enough," interrupted the major; "it is plain there is no time to
lose. Put the wounded on the limbers and waggons, and we will move at
once."
We hastened to carry out the major's orders; but closer and closer drew
the tide of battle, and ere we could put the square in motion, Macleod's
little band of heroes appeared in sight. Alas! a fatal change had
occurred. The division was no longer in solid order, as when seen by
Cantillon, but broken up into small parties and groups, each fighting
desperately against overwhelming numbers of Turkish cavalry and Albanian
infantry.
To rush to their rescue was our first impulse; but Vogelsang restrained
us, pointing out that we could not possibly render our brave comrades
any effectual aid, and that once we broke our formation we should
infallibly be cut to pieces. We did what little lay in our power, firing
at the enemy whenever we could do so without injury to our own people;
and a section of our company sallying out, at a critical moment, under
Holroyd and Cantillon, succeeded in bringing Captain Mackay and a few of
the 78th into the square.
With the exception of this slender party, Macleod's division was
destroyed, not a man escaping. The gallant Macleod fell, as became him,
claymore in hand, in the midst of his Highlanders, who, with the
devotion of clansmen for their chief, threw themselves in the way of
certain destruction in their vain attempts to save him.
While this terrible scene was taking place we were not molested by the
enemy; but, the other divisions destroyed, they now combined their
forces against us. The Albanian infantry commenced the attack by lining
the sand ridges and pouring a furious fusillade upon the square, the
horsemen keeping out of range, ready to sweep down upon us when the
right moment arrived. The Albanians were expert marksmen, and their fire
proved very disastrous to us. Vogelsang, Holroyd, and Cantillon were
amongst the first wounded, the latter severely, and many of our men fell
to rise no more. We replied with the six-pounders, as well as with
musketry; but the Albanians being scattered and well covered, our fire
was not very effective. To add to our misfortunes, the sun was now
beating down upon us with full force, and we had little water to quench
our burning thirst; officers and men were pretty nigh worn out, and we
all felt that, unless General Stewart came to our aid, the end must come
quickly.
At length, when more than one-third of our number were killed or
wounded, there was a cessation of the firing, followed by great
commotion amongst the enemy's cavalry. We jumped to the conclusion that,
at last, Stewart must have arrived, and our drooping spirits revived.
Alas! we were speedily undeceived; for as the smoke cleared away, there
appeared in sight a large body of Arab horsemen, advancing in loose, but
not disorderly array. That the new-comers were foes, not friends, we
could not doubt, for as they advanced across the plain the Turkish host
welcomed them with a mighty shout and waving of flags.
Though faint from loss of blood, Major Vogelsang still retained
command, and he now mounted a limber-box and examined the advancing
troops through his glass.
"They are the Mamelukes!" he exclaimed, "and Mohammed Ali himself is at
their head. My men, we have now nothing to do but to sell our lives
dearly."
"Possibly they have come to our aid," I suggested, hoping against hope.
"Are you sure the Vizier is with them?"
Vogelsang shook his head sadly, and replied that he recognised Mohammed
Ali, having seen him before; his presence with the Mamelukes was
sufficient to prove that they had come, not as allies, but as our most
formidable enemies.
We rapidly made preparations for the struggle before us. The wounded--at
least those who were totally disabled from taking part in the
defence--were placed in a trench hastily made in the sand; the
six-pounders were loaded with grape and with musket-balls to the very
muzzle; and each soldier dropped over his cartridge, not only a running
ball, but three or four slugs.
The attack was not long delayed, and opened with a renewal of the
musketry fire by the Albanians. This lasted for the best part of an
hour, and wrought us great mischief. Suddenly it ceased, and the
Albanians leisurely retired. Then, with lightning speed, the Mamelukes
bore down on our sadly-diminished square.
"Keep steady, men," cried Vogelsang, "and reserve your fire until your
foes are within forty yards. Then give them a volley, and load again."
The Mamelukes came on in somewhat loose order, their line extending to,
perhaps, twice the width of the square. We let them approach to within
thirty yards; then both guns and muskets opened on them with terrible
effect. The charge was arrested; and before they could retire out of
range, we gave them a second volley only less destructive than the
first. Then they galloped away in confusion. Before we had time to
congratulate ourselves, the Albanians again came to the front, and
annoyed us with their fire.
After a while the Mamelukes made a second attempt to break our square,
only to retire discomfited. Three times did our slender band repulse
these magnificent horsemen, inflicting heavy punishment on each
occasion; but after each repulse the Albanians renewed their galling
fire, doing us, in proportion, more harm than we did to the Mamelukes.
[Illustration: "I dropped senseless to the ground."]
After the third attack, and while the Albanians were firing at us, the
artillery officer reported that only one charge per gun was left.
"We must break up a cask of small-arm ammunition, and make the best use
we can of that," replied Major Vogelsang. "You, sir," he added, turning
to me, "take a couple of men, and collect the rounds from the
cartouch-boxes of the slain."
I was about to execute this gruesome order, when a bullet, glancing from
one of the guns, struck me on the head, and I dropped senseless to the
ground.
* * * * *
When consciousness returned I found myself lying in the arms of Corporal
Jones, who was bathing my head with muddy water. All sound of strife had
ceased, and our men were sitting or standing around, disarmed. Several
Mamelukes were stalking about with a triumphant air, and in the distance
was assembled the Vizier's army. I asked the corporal what had happened.
"We're prisoners, Mr. Cotton, the few of us that's left," he replied.
"We hadn't a blessed cartridge left, when a Turkish officer came up with
a flag of truce, and told the captain as how our lives should be spared
if we surrendered."
"Do you mean Captain Holroyd?"
"Yes, sir. The furrin major was knocked over just after you was, and,
though badly hurt, our captain took command. There he is yonder, talking
to the officer to whom we surrendered. The rum thing is," continued
Corporal Jones, "that the Turkish orficer ain't a Turk at all, but a
Frenchman. D'you remember, sir, the French leftenant as used to come so
often to your quarters when we lay at Messina?"
"Not M'sieur de Vignes?" I exclaimed.
"That's the name, sir. Well, he's the orficer I'm tellin' you about--and
here he comes!"
I looked up and saw a Mameluke approaching, whose rich attire bespoke
him an officer of rank. Leaning on his arm was Charlie Holroyd, his head
and shoulder bandaged.
"Tom," said Holroyd, in a faint voice, "here is an old friend--one who
has indeed proved a friend in need. It is to M'sieur de Vignes we owe
our lives."
"_Pouf_!" cried the Mameluke, whom I at once recognised as my former
acquaintance; "I have but repaid the debt I owed you, _mon ami_. When
last we met I played you a scurvy trick, and happy am I to be able to
make some reparation." And with that he embraced me, much to the horror
of Corporal Jones.
Holroyd then told me how, struck with admiration at our heroic defence,
M. Drovetti, the French consul-general at Cairo (who had accompanied the
Turkish army), had induced the Vizier to offer us quarter. De Vignes was
selected to bear the flag of truce, and recognising Holroyd, persuaded
him to surrender. In spite of our surrender, the Mamelukes, furious at
the losses they had sustained, attempted to massacre the survivors of
our force, and were only prevented by the exertions of Eugene de Vignes,
who saved our lives at the risk of his own. As it was, several of our
wounded were butchered; amongst others, poor Paddy Cantillon.
Naturally I was curious to learn how the French lieutenant had been
transformed into an officer of Mamelukes, and that evening I asked him
to tell me his story.
"_Mais certainement, mon cher_," he replied. "At Messina I met, and fell
in love with, the lady who is now my wife. Her father, Prince T----,
objecting to my attentions, sent his daughter to the convent. By bribing
one of the lay-sisters, I obtained an interview, and persuaded Beatrice
to elope with me. To return to France would have been difficult, if not
impossible, so I determined to fly to Egypt, where my mother's brother,
M'sieur Drovetti, was consul-general. I hired a small coasting-vessel,
and made all arrangements for our flight. On the appointed night I
repaired to the convent. With the assistance of the lay-sister, Beatrice
effected her escape from the building, and joined me outside the walls.
But somehow her father had got wind of the affair--I believe the
lay-sister betrayed us--and while making off, we were attacked by four
of his servants. I had just time to tell Beatrice to fly up the road,
conceal herself, and await events, whilst I covered her retreat. Happily
my assailants--probably acting on their master's orders--were so intent
upon killing me, that they did not attempt to follow her. You, _mon
ami_, came to my aid, and the fellows ran off, leaving one of their
number with my sword through his heart. To get rid of you, I pretended
the rascal was only wounded, and sent you off for assistance. The moment
you had gone, I picked the dead body up, carried it a few yards, and
threw it in a ditch. Then I rejoined Beatrice, and we hastened to the
boat which was awaiting us. In the end we got safely to Cairo, and were
married by my good uncle's chaplain. Through my uncle's influence, I was
appointed an officer in the Vizier's service, and am now in high favour.
_Voila tout_!"
* * * * *
My story is finished. We were carried prisoners to Cairo, but, thanks to
the influence of M. Drovetti, were allowed to take up our quarters with
Eugene de Vignes and his charming wife; thus escaping the hardships and
indignities which, as we afterwards learned, many of our
fellow-prisoners suffered.
In due course we were exchanged, and rejoined our regiment. Many years
have passed since then. My brother-in-law, Charles Holroyd, is a general
and a K.C.B.; I have long ago left the army, and settled down to a
country life; but we still retain a vivid recollection of the "Disaster
of El Hamet," and tell our children the story of "a Frenchman's
Gratitude."
THE BADGE OF THE FOURTH FOOT
BY ROBERT LEIGHTON
I
"What a night! What a wild, wild night!"
Old Donald Leslie lifted his grizzled head, closed his book on his
gnarled forefinger, and listened to the low deep soughing of the wind.
As he spoke, a gust of smoke blew out into the room from the wide throat
of the chimney; the flames of the burning logs on the open hearth leapt
and crackled anew; the lights of the hanging cruse lamps flickered, and
the grimy arras hangings over the doors and windows swung heavily to and
fro and swelled out like the sails of a ship.
"Ay; it's from the north," muttered Elspeth Macdonald, as she crossed to
one of the deep embayed windows and drew aside the curtain to peer out
into the night. "It will be bringing snow with it. The clouds were
banked up like great mountains in the north when I looked out in the
forenoon, and the shepherd was telling me that he saw a white bonnet on
Ben Bhuidhe as he came west over Culloden braes yestreen."
"Listen!" cried young Colin Leslie, releasing the cat from his knee and
rising to his feet. "Did you not hear something, grandfather?"
"Well did I hear something," returned the old man. "I've heard it these
two hours past. It's the wind howling in the vent."
"Nay, but it wasna the wind," pursued the boy. "It was----"
"Just hold your tongue, laddie, and let me get reading my book,"
interrupted the grandfather petulantly. "You're aye putting in your
word. A body can do no reading with such chatter for ever dinging in his
ears."
"There it is again!" cried Colin, not heeding the old man's complaint.
"It was some one hammering at the castle door."
"Hoots, bairn. Who would be out travelling and knocking at folk's doors
on a night like this?"
Colin approached the hearth and leaned his arm against the cheek of the
chimney, staring into the glowing fire.
"It was some one on horseback," said he; "I heard the horse's hoofs on
the stones just before you said 'What a night it is!'"
Sir Donald Leslie continued reading under the dim light of the lamp that
hung above his head. Presently Elspeth Macdonald left the room on
tiptoe, closing the door behind her. Colin applied himself to casting a
new log upon the fire. Regardless of his grandfather, he began to
whistle the lightsome air of a certain Jacobite song. Soon his whistling
changed into the song itself and he chanted, half under his breath, the
words--
"Oh, Charlie is my darling,
My darling, my darling,
Charlie is my darling,
The young Chevalier."
Suddenly a fluttering book flew past his curly head.
"How dare you? How dare you sing that accursed Jacobite song in my
hearing?" cried his grandfather, red with rage. "Have I not told you a
hundred times that I'll have none of your rebel rantings in my house?"
"I meant no harm, grandfather," said Colin, picking up the book and
placing it on the corner of the table near the old man's elbow, "I was
not thinking of the meaning of the words."
[Illustration: "Suddenly a fluttering book flew past his curly head."]
"May-be not, may-be not," returned Sir Donald, as he idly took up his
book. Then, calming himself, he added more softly, shaking his head the
while: "Colin, you are just the very reflection of my brother Neil. My
father had exactly the same trouble with him in the Forty-Five that I
have with you in these more peaceful days. You try to persuade me that
you have no real sympathy with the wild adventurer you were now singing
about. But I'll be bound that if there were another rising (which
Heaven forfend!) you'd on with the kilt and be off with another Stuart,
just as Neil Leslie went off with the young Pretender--luckless loon
that he was. But I'll not have it, look you. I'll have none of your
Jacobite thoughts here; no, not even so much as the whistling of their
inflammatory tunes!"
Colin raised his eyes and glanced furtively at the old claymore that was
suspended over the door, crossed by a rusty Lochaber axe. One might have
seen by the sudden gleam in his blue eyes that the lad had some
lingering sympathy with the romantic adventurer of whose lost cause his
grandfather had spoken so contemptuously.
"One rebel in the family has been quite enough, and more than enough,"
went on Sir Donald. "But for Neil Leslie we might now be living in
comfort and luxury instead of in poverty. We now feed upon porridge and
oaten bannocks instead of good wholesome beef and venison; we drink weak
milk instead of wine. Our dwelling is a poor broken-down ruin instead
of, as it once was, a lordly castle fit for a king. Look at our lands;
they are wide, but they bear no harvest, for we cannot afford to
cultivate them. Our stables are empty; our flocks have been reduced to a
few skinny sheep that find no food upon the barren ground. Even the
grouse and the plovers have deserted us. And it is all the work of Neil
Leslie. My very blood simmers when I think of him, the rebel rascal! the
scoundrel! the thief!"
"Thief?" echoed Colin quickly. "Thief, grandfather?"
"Ay, thief," growled the old man in an angrier tone. "He robbed his own
father--_my_ father. All the hard-earned and hard-saved money that my
father had put aside for his descendants--for me as his eldest son, and
for you in your turn, although that was long, long before you were
born--was stolen by Neil Leslie, and by him appropriated to the
accursed cause of the man whom he called his prince. Prince? A prince of
rascals, a prince of gallows-birds; that is what I call the frog-eating
reprobate that presumed to lay claim to the British throne. What did he
do--this Charles Edward Stuart? He filled the silly heads of our men and
women with his romantic tomfoolery; he turned all Scotland topsy-turvy
and left it a miserable wreck of its former and better self----Don't
look like that at me, Colin. I'm telling you nothing but the simple
truth. And when you are a little older and get the hayseed out of your
hair, you will know the wisdom of being loyal to your rightful king.
There, I've lost my place in the book, now. Let me see; what page was I
at?"
The door opened while the old man peevishly turned over the pages, and
Elspeth Macdonald entered. There was an expression of anxious concern in
her wrinkled face. She approached the master of Castle Leslie and
mysteriously whispered into his ear.
Sir Donald gripped the wooden arm of his high-backed chair.
"Ossington?" he said questioningly, repeating the name that the
housekeeper had announced. "Colonel Ossington? I know no such name. Who
can the man be, think you, Elspeth?"
Elspeth shook her head.
"That's mair than I can tell," said she. "He just asked for the master
as he stamped his snowy boots on the step. Then he took off his cloak
and handed it to Geordie, as bold as you please, and bade me give you
his name--Colonel Ossington."
"Has he left his horse standing there?" questioned Sir Donald.
Elspeth crossed her hands in front of her, and holding up her head in
high dignity, answered--"No. The beast has been taken round to the
stables."
"H'm," muttered Sir Donald. "He evidently intends to stay the night,
then. Well, it matters little who he may be. We couldna send a body away
from the very door on a night of storm like this, even if he were but a
mere gaberlunzie. Let him come ben here. And see that some supper is
sent in. Wait," he added, as Elspeth was moving away; "see that Andrew
gets some food for the horse. There should be a handful of oats left in
the corners of the bags up in the old loft; and if not, he'll may-be
find some dry hay in the byre."
"Toots!" objected Elspeth, as she swept towards the door, "there's no
need to fash yourself about the horse. Andrew will see to the beast.
Trust him to that."
Young Colin Leslie stood before the fire with his face fronting to the
room. His grandfather's knotted fingers nervously turned the faded brown
leaves of his book, while the wind groaned in the chimney and the fitful
flames of the fire cast strange moving shadows about the gloomy room.
The man who presently entered crossed the oaken floor with a somewhat
halting gait. His spurs jangled at each step. His clean-shaven face was
thin and pinched, but ruddy in contrast with his silvery hair. As he
approached into the light of the fire, Colin noticed that his active
grey eyes were conspicuously clear and bright beneath his furrowed brow.
He wore a snuff-coloured riding-coat, with breeches of the same colour,
and long military boots. A diamond glistened amid the pure whiteness of
his lace-edged cravat.
Sir Donald Leslie rose from his chair and advanced a step to meet him.
The two men bowed to each other as strangers.
"You are welcome, sir," said Sir Donald, standing upright with his right
hand on the tall back of his chair. "Pray take this seat near the fire.
The night is cold, and it may be you have travelled far."
The soldier bent his head courteously.
"Not farther than Inverness," was his response. He spoke in a distinctly
English tone of voice, which Sir Donald at once detected.
"You are from the South?" he questioned. And then, before the stranger
had time to answer, he added, "Colonel Ottington, I think my housekeeper
told me, is your name?"
"Ossington," corrected the stranger, seating himself and holding his
long, delicate hands in front of the fire. "Colonel Ossington, late of
the King's 17th Light Dragoons. I am newly returned from Canada." He
glanced at his host as he spoke, and after a slight pause continued,
wrinkling his face into a half smile, "You do not appear to know me,
sir? Am I not addressing Mr. Alan Leslie--Alan Leslie, once of the 20th
Foot?"
There was a moment or two of silence, broken only by the deep-throated
growling of the wind in the chimney-vent. Colin Leslie, who had retired
to a shadowed corner of the ingle-nook, looked at his grandfather,
wondering at his hesitation.
"My name is Donald Leslie," came at last the gloomy reply. "I am a
brother of Alan Leslie, and the eldest son of Sir John Leslie, who died
fifty years ago--fifty years almost to the very day."
Colonel Ossington meditatively nodded his head.
"That would be in the year of Culloden, I think," said he. "He was for
the young----" He checked himself.
"No," broke in Sir Donald vehemently. "He was certainly not for the
young Pretender."
The colonel raised his eyebrows in apparent surprise, dropped his open
hands upon his knees, and slowly rose to his feet.
"I had almost expected to hear you say the young Chevalier," he said,
with a fuller frankness than he had hitherto shown. "I had understood
that your brother Alan was the only member of your family who was not
heart and soul for the Stuarts."
"On the contrary," corrected Sir Donald, "I and my brother Alan and our
father were always staunch for King George. Ah," he added, seeing the
door open, "here is some supper. I am afraid it will prove a poor meal;
but pray make yourself free with such as there is. Pardon me if I leave
you for a little while. My grandson Colin, here, will entertain you in
the meantime." He poured a few drops of whisky into a glass, and dealt
similarly but more generously with a glass which he passed to his guest.
"To the King!" he said, moistening his lips.
"To the King!" responded Colonel Ossington, bowing politely to Sir
Donald as he left the room.
The supper which had been set before the stranger was, as his host had
expressed it, but a poor meal; but Colonel Ossington partook of it with
as much enjoyment as if it had been a banquet. Presently Colin Leslie
emerged from his corner by the ingle and slowly approached the table,
standing opposite to the colonel as he ate. The boy's fingers played
idly with the ragged fringe of the table-cloth; but now and again he
stole a furtive glance at the silver-haired officer at the other side.
Once or twice he attempted to speak, but his shyness overcame him. It
was not often that he encountered a stranger such as the man before him.
At last he mustered courage enough to say--
"Are you a soldier--a real soldier?"
The colonel smiled at him. "Yes," said he, "I am a soldier. Is that
something strange to you?"
"We don't see many soldiers in these parts," said the boy. "There are
some at Inverness, of course, and at Fort George, but I've never been to
either of those places. Once when I went to Edinburgh with my father, I
saw some soldiers at the Castle. But I never spoke to one before."
"Is your father at home--here in Castle Leslie?" asked Colonel
Ossington.
"No," answered Colin; "he's dead. So is my mother. Grandfather and I are
quite alone in the world." He hesitated, almost ashamed of having said
so much. Presently he looked up once more and added, "Where is your red
coat and your sword? I thought soldiers always wore red coats and
swords."
"Mine are at home in England," explained the soldier. "I don't wear them
now. I have not worn them at all since I came back from America. I am
too old."
Colin reflected for some moments, leaning his elbows on the table and
his chin in his supporting hands.
"Did you ever kill a man?" he asked abruptly.
"Yes; many men. That is what soldiers are meant to do. But one doesn't
like to think of them as men. Somehow it seems different when one calls
them simply the enemy."
"Then you've been in a real battle?"
The soldier nodded.
"That must have been very exciting," remarked Colin, with boyish
enthusiasm. "I should like to be in a real battle--that is, if it were
against Frenchmen, or Spaniards, or blackamoors, or people of that sort.
I don't think I'd like it so much if they were Britons."
"I suppose not," agreed Colonel Ossington, with a sigh. "Somehow it does
seem to make a difference."
"Once," went on Colin, growing more communicative now that he had
discovered a soldier to be very little different in human nature from
any other man--"once, there was a battle near here--near this castle, I
mean--over on Culloden Moor, where our sheep pastures are. And last
spring, when Peter Reid of the Mains of Kilravock was ploughing, he
turned up a rusty old claymore. He gave it to me, and I polished it.
There it is, hanging up with that Lochaber axe upon the wall."
[Illustration: "Turned up a rusty old claymore."]
Colonel Ossington moved his chair to look round at the old sword. His
glance travelled to other parts of the dimly lighted room, surveying the
few family portraits in their tarnished frames, the dusty antlered heads
of stags, the old Highland targets, crossbows, and battle-axes that
decorated the dark oak panels of the walls.
"There used to be a rack of muskets in that farther corner," he
remarked. "And where is the portrait of the beautiful Lady
Leslie--Bonnie Belinda, they called her--that used to hang up there
above that carved settle?"
"Oh, that has been put away," explained Colin, "because--because Lady
Belinda was a Jacobite, you know. But how did you know that the picture
and the guns and things were ever there? You have never been in this
room before, have you?"
The colonel raised his glass to his lips. "Yes," he said.
"When?" demanded Colin.
"Oh, when I was a youth, a little older than you are now. It must be
fifty years ago."
At this moment Sir Donald Leslie re-entered the room.
"Grandfather!" cried Colin, "Colonel Ossington has been here before! He
was here fifty years ago."
Sir Donald turned sharply to his guest.
"Is this true?" he asked.
"Quite true," responded the old campaigner. "I was here in the year
1746. You, I think, were at that time abroad."
"Yes," acquiesced Sir Donald. "I was in Leyden. I am sorry you did not
inform me at once that this was not your first visit. I should have
given you a warmer welcome if I had known. As it is, I have treated you
as a stranger, and have not even offered you my hand."
"It is hardly too late to repair the omission," said Colonel Ossington,
and he thrust forth his hand, which his host grasped.
"Ossington?" muttered Sir Donald, trying to recall the name. "Ossington?
Dear me, I'm afraid I must seem very stupid. But for the life of me I
cannot remember to have heard of you. If I may be so inquisitive, what
was the occasion of your former visit, colonel?"
"I will tell you," returned the soldier frankly. "Indeed, my present
appearance here is wholly on account of what occurred at that long
distant time." He put his hand to his breast pocket. "May I smoke?" he
asked.
"Certainly," said Sir Donald. "I am afraid, however, that I cannot offer
you any tobacco. We can ill afford such a luxury in these hard times."
"Thank you. I have some very fine American tobacco with me," rejoined
the colonel. "Ah, I forgot," he added. "I find I have left it in my
saddle-bag."
"Colin will fetch it," urged Sir Donald, anticipating the promised
pleasure of renewing a habit which economy alone had compelled him to
abandon.
"Oh, don't trouble," said his guest, "I will go myself. I think I
remember where the stable is situated. Although perhaps the lad might,
after all, accompany me."
Colin was already at the door, prepared for the guest. He conducted the
colonel out into the hall, where they got their hats and a lantern, and
then through the house and out by one of the back doors, and into the
spacious, wind-swept garden, along by a high blank wall and across to
the stable. By the aid of Colin's lamp, the colonel soon found his
tobacco and, giving a caressing pat to his horse's flanks, he followed
the boy back into the garden.
A wild gust of wind met them as they came out from the stable door,
extinguishing their light. The snow had ceased to fall, and the sky was
clear, saving only for a few fleecy white clouds that drifted southward
across the moon. The ruined and ivy-covered walls of the older parts of
the castle stood out black against the steel-blue brightness of the sky.
An owl flew with silent wings from out the ruins and disappeared among
the tall bare trees that creaked and groaned in the wind at the rear of
the keep.
Colin walked in advance over the crisp white snow. Suddenly he drew
back with a half-smothered cry, gripped his companion's arm, and pointed
with agitated finger into the dark shadows of the ruined walls.
"Look!" he ejaculated, trembling in every limb. "Do you see it? Do you
see it? See! there it goes--there, in at the old postern gate! Come!
come quickly back to the house. I'm afraid!"
Colonel Ossington held the lad's arm, supporting him.
"Afraid of what, boy?" he demanded. "There is nothing."
"Did you not see it?" gasped Colin, in a mysterious, scarcely audible
whisper. "It went in at the postern, there."
"I saw nothing to alarm you to this degree, my boy," returned the
soldier. "What was it? Tell me what it was!"
Colin's fingers crept down the colonel's right arm until they grasped
his hand. The lad had implored his companion to return with him to the
house, but he himself now stood still as if rooted to the spot.
"What was it?" repeated Colonel Ossington.
Colin answered in the same low, mysterious whisper. "It was the
ghost--the ghost of Neil Leslie. It is often seen here. Elspeth has seen
it. So has grandfather. I have seen it before, too; but never so plainly
as now. It glided along there by the wall, with its plaid wrapped round
it. I saw the yellow stone glistening in the hilt of its dirk. Its sword
flashed in the moonlight. When it got to the gate it stopped a moment
and put out its hand, holding something--something that looked like a
little bag. It turned its face this way and then disappeared."
"Come," said the colonel, putting his arm about the lad and drawing him
onward towards the house. "Your imagination has been playing you some
trick. It was the moonlight and the moving bushes, perhaps. You will
forget all about it when we get indoors."
As they passed by the postern gate, Colin craned round and peered
within. Seeing nothing but black darkness, he heaved a deep sigh of
relief and walked boldly on, saying nothing until he had closed and
barred the door behind him. Then, touching Colonel Ossington's arm, he
said calmly--
"Please say nothing to grandfather about Neil's ghost, Colonel
Ossington. It would only disturb him."
II
Sir Donald Leslie was engaged in preparing a bowl of hot whisky toddy,
when his grandson and his guest rejoined him. He did not observe Colin's
blanched face and wild, staring eyes. The boy strode to the fireplace
and flung himself into his favourite seat in the corner, staring into
the glowing red mass upon the hearth.
When the two men had filled and lighted their pipes, and were
comfortably seated before the fire, each with a steaming glass of toddy
within reach of him, Colonel Ossington abruptly resumed the conversation
at the point where it had been broken off some fifteen minutes earlier.
"My present appearance here," he said, crossing his legs, "is connected
with certain mysterious events which occurred at the time of my first
visit to Castle Leslie on the fifteenth day of April 1746--that is to
say, on the eve of the battle of Culloden." He paused an instant as if
to arrange his thoughts. Then, leaning forward and fixing his keen grey
eyes upon his host, he said in a tone of sharp inquiry: "Will you tell
me what became of your brother, Neil Leslie?"
Sir Donald received the question with a lowering of the brows.
"Ah," said he, as he pressed his finger into the bowl of his
tobacco-pipe, "I had guessed that it was of him you came to speak. I
had even gone so far as to expect that you were about to pester me by
telling me you had met him out there in America. I don't want to know
anything concerning him, Colonel Ossington. He disgraced and ruined his
family, and whether he be dead, as I hope, or alive, as I sometimes
fear, he is no more to me than the most utter stranger."
"If I had met him in America," observed Colonel Ossington, "I should
have no need to ask you what had become of him. I know nothing of
him--nothing of what happened to him subsequent to the evening before
Culloden fight."
"I assume that you were yourself in that fight," remarked Sir Donald.
"Yes," returned the colonel, "I was then a young ensign. I served under
Major James Wolfe in repelling the first attack of the Highlanders."
"Ah," mused Sir Donald; "then you would not come into conflict with Neil
Leslie. He, I believe, remained studiously in the rear."
"Pardon me," corrected the colonel, "he was not on the field."
A blank yet somewhat haughty stare was the response to this unexpected
contradiction. Sir Donald was evidently perplexed.
"I do not go so far as to declare that he was actually in the fight,"
said he. "But that he was somewhere on the fringe of the battle I am
well assured. After the fight he fled with the defeated Highlanders,
first to the Western Islands, and afterwards to France. Such at least is
what my father believed concerning him--not that he went out of his way
to make inquiries. You may be sure that he was in nowise anxious for the
graceless scoundrel's safety. Indeed, if the truth must needs be told,
Sir John was rejoiced to be rid of Neil at any cost."
"Rejoiced to be rid of him?" echoed the colonel, in surprise. "I do not
understand. Neil Leslie was his father's especial favourite. And very
naturally so, as it seems to me, since they both were Jacobites."
Sir Donald laid his pipe upon the table.
"Jacobites?" he repeated, in a tone half of surprise and half of
disbelief. "Who were Jacobites?"
"Why, Sir John Leslie and his son Neil."
"No, no," returned Sir Donald emphatically. "You mistake the facts,
colonel; you are dreaming. My brother Neil was a Jacobite, curse him.
But my father, I thank Heaven, was as firmly for the House of Hanover as
you or I."
"If either of us is dreaming," declared the soldier, "I am afraid it is
yourself, Sir Donald. Surely you do not pretend that you never knew your
father to be a bitter enemy of King George! Surely you, his own son,
cannot be ignorant of the fact that for months--ay, for years--before
Culloden, Sir John Leslie was secretly one of the most active friends
and personal supporters of the young Pretender?"
Sir Donald had risen to his feet, and now he strode thoughtfully to the
end of the room and back.
"If you are speaking the truth, I have been ignorant indeed," he said,
with a frown. He turned and continued moodily to pace the room. To and
fro he strode with his twitching hands linked together behind his back.
Colonel Ossington quietly puffed at his pipe, while young Colin Leslie,
in his seat at the ingle, leaned forward staring at the two men in fixed
attention. No word was spoken for many minutes, and all was silent
saving only for the wild, boisterous rumbling of the wind in the
chimney, and the regular shuffling tramp of Sir Donald Leslie's
slippered feet upon the bare oak floor. Presently this latter sound
ceased, and Sir Donald stood still, ruminating.
"I cannot believe it," he said at length, confronting Colonel
Ossington. "On what grounds do you base your conviction?"
"On the surest of all grounds," returned the soldier, "his own
admission, and also my certain knowledge that when Charles Edward Stuart
and his army of Highlanders were encamped on the moor near here, Sir
John Leslie supplied them not only with the food which they so sorely
needed, but also with money, with arms, and with ammunition."
A fierce light leapt into the old man's eyes.
"It is false!" he cried, in a quivering voice; "it is false!" He stamped
his foot. "I do not doubt that you yourself believe what you are saying.
Some knave or liar must have deceived you. But, all the same, it is not
true. My father was as fervent a Hanoverian as I was and still am. It
was Neil alone who was the skulking Jacobite. Ay, and to him I owe it
that I am now so poor that I cannot even offer a chance visitor the
hospitality that is his due. Had my father been in sound health at the
time of the Rebellion, he would have joined the King's troops and fought
as boldly as did my dear brother Alan, who fell fighting bravely and
loyally for King George on Culloden Moor."
"In that last particular you are again strangely in error," interrupted
Colonel Ossington. "Alan Leslie took no part whatsoever in the battle of
Culloden. I, who was his comrade and friend, can testify also that he
did not die a soldier's death--at least not upon the field."
"What!" cried the astonished Sir Donald. "Are you certain of this?"
"I am," reiterated the colonel, "absolutely certain."
"Then where in Heaven's name was he?"
"Here--in this house," returned Ossington, knocking the ash out of his
pipe and slowly reopening his tobacco-bag. "It was of him more
particularly that I came here to speak with you. I wanted to learn
something of his fate, whatever it may have been. But it seems you know
as little of it as I do myself. We were companions in arms, he and I. It
was while I was stationed in Edinburgh that he joined Major James
Wolfe's battalion of the Fourth Foot. I was then a young ensign. Alan
and I were quartered together, and we soon became fast friends. We sat
at the same mess-table, we shared the same bottle of wine, we smoked the
same pipe. When it was a question of fighting, as at Prestonpans, we
fought side by side."
Sir Donald filled his guest's glass anew. Colin Leslie continued
silently to listen, believing that the old soldier was now coming to
something more definite.
"In the spring of '46, you remember," went on the colonel, "the Duke of
Cumberland's forces marched northward to Aberdeen, in search of the
rebels. From Aberdeen we advanced to the town of Nairn, and while there
we heard that the Pretender was concentrating his army of Highlanders at
a spot not many miles away from our encampment. Alan Leslie and I were
sent out to reconnoitre. We made our way westward and discovered the
enemy on Culloden Moor. Believing that we might learn something further
as to their intentions, Alan induced me to accompany him to Castle
Leslie, in the hope of hearing news from the lad's father, who was
supposed, although erroneously, to be friendly to the King. We arrived
here at dusk and were admitted into this same room."
The colonel's eyes wandered about the apartment as if in the endeavour
to picture it as it had been at that earlier time.
"For some two hours," he continued, "we were left here alone. During
that interval of waiting, Alan told me the romantic story of Bonnie
Belinda, the story being suggested by her portrait, which hung over
yonder above the settle."
Sir Donald nodded and glanced across at the vacant place on the panelled
wall.
"But at last," went on the speaker, "Sir John Leslie entered, with his
plaid about his shoulders, as if he had newly returned from a journey.
He regarded his soldier son with stony indifference."
"'Well?' he demanded; 'what do you want here?'
"'I have come, sir,' stammered Alan, surprised at this cold welcome. 'I
have come----'
"His father bent forward with his hand resting on the table at his side,
and almost touching Alan's regimental cap with its bright brass badge.
"'You have come as a spy!' he cried bitterly, following up the
accusation with a volley of virulent taunts. 'You ingrate!' he cried;
'you weak-kneed renegade! Where is your patriotism? How dare you come
here, wearing the uniform of the hateful foreign usurper whom you
serve?'"
"He said _that_?" questioned Sir Donald agitatedly. "He--my father--said
that?"
Colonel Ossington took up the fire-tongs and caught at a fragment of
burning wood with which to light his pipe.
"Those were his own words," said he; "and they were not less surprising
to me than they were to Alan Leslie. I do not exactly remember what Alan
said in retaliation, but he taunted his father with being a Jacobite,
and, as he said, 'the follower of an upstart Pretender'; and at these
words Sir John drew himself proudly together and stood at his full
height, which I am sure must have been a good six feet. 'I will not have
His Royal Highness so named in my presence,' he declared with a frown,
and pointing to the door in all the dignity of his old age, he added:
'You are no son of mine, and I do not wish ever to see you again.'
"But even as he spoke, the door was opened from without, and a tall,
singularly noble-looking young man entered with the majestic stride of a
monarch. He was followed by a yet younger man. At sight of our red coats
both new-comers started back in amazement. Before either could speak,
however, Sir John had hurried the elder of them out of the room. The
younger man, whom I rightly guessed to be Neil Leslie, stepped back and,
looking into Alan's face, smiled in recognition, and held out his hand.
Alan refused to accept this offer of friendship."
"Ay, and quite right," interposed Sir Donald.
Colonel Ossington did not heed the interruption, but proceeded with his
narrative.
"As the two brothers stood there, facing each other," he said, "I
thought them the two handsomest youths I had ever beheld. Alan, with his
smart military bearing, his finely featured face and his glistening dark
eyes; Neil, somewhat taller, although younger, with fairer hair and more
lithe figure, dressed in the picturesque Highland costume, with his dark
tartan kilt and his long flowing plaid, that was caught at the shoulder
by a large silver brooch, set with a sparkling yellow stone."
On hearing this description of his great-uncle, young Colin Leslie moved
from his seat at the fire to a vacant chair opposite to Colonel
Ossington. It was evident that Neil was in his eyes a hero.
"Alan, I say, refused to accept his brother's proffered friendship. 'Who
was the young man that came to the door with you just now?' he demanded.
And Neil answered proudly, as he turned to leave the room: 'It was the
prince whom I have the honour to serve--Prince Charles Edward Stuart.'"
"And he was once here--here in this very room?" murmured Colin, with
reverent enthusiasm. In his boyish imagination the room had been
sanctified by the presence of the romantic adventurer.
[Illustration: "Alan refused to accept this offer of friendship."]
"Continue," urged Sir Donald, with a black cloud in his face. "What
happened next?"
"When Neil had gone out of the room," said the old campaigner, "Alan
gave a mocking laugh. 'What do you think of them, Jack?' said he. 'It
seems to me we've dropped into a hornet's nest. It will be war to the
knife with my father and me after this. Which reminds me,' he added,
crossing the room to the wall opposite the window there, 'this pretty
dirk is mine. I may as well take possession of it.' And he took down a
long-bladed, jewel-hafted dagger that was hung there under the picture
of Bonnie Belinda. 'Wait outside for me, Jack,' said he; 'wait at the
stable door. There's something else I want to do before we go back to
Nairn.' So I went out and waited at the stable. I waited for fully an
hour. When Alan joined me at last, he was a different man. He was
strangely agitated--almost mad with passion and fierce vindictive rage
against his father.
"'Look here, Jack,' said he, 'you'd better ride back to Nairn at
once--without me. I shall come on later--perhaps not until to-morrow
morning. Ride back as quickly as you can, and see the Duke of
Cumberland. If you can't see him, go to Major Wolfe. Tell him--tell
either of them--that the rebel army is only some four thousand strong,
but that the Pretender has determined to attack the King's troops
to-morrow. I have just heard this by accident. The three of
them--Charles Stuart, my father, and that young scamp Neil--have been
closeted together. But I overheard them talking and unfolding their
plans. There was only a thin curtain between us, and I heard every word.
I heard my father saying that he had a store of arms and ammunition here
in the castle for the use of the Highlanders. Two hundred muskets and as
many swords, as well as ten thousand pounds in gold. These he offered to
Stuart, bidding him send for them at eleven o'clock to-night. The arms
and the money are to be delivered to the messengers by my brother Neil
at the postern gate in the castle garden. They _will_ be delivered,
Jack, if--if I don't prevent it, as I mean to do.'"
Colonel Ossington paused in his narrative. His gaze was fixed upon the
earnestly attentive eyes and the white face of Colin Leslie. The boy
seemed mentally to be associating this fact of the delivery of arms at
the postern gate with the recently seen apparition of Neil Leslie. As
for Sir Donald, he had now ceased to doubt Colonel Ossington's
affirmations, and was as deeply interested in the narrative as was his
grandson, although the sympathies of the two were directly at variance.
"Ten thousand pounds in gold!" ejaculated Sir Donald in astonishment.
"Where on earth did it all come from?"
"I do not know," returned Ossington. "Probably it represented the
contributions of the wealthy Jacobites of the immediate neighbourhood."
"And did the Highlanders get those guns and things in time to use them
in the next day's battle?" Colin ventured to ask. He breathed a sigh of
disappointment when Colonel Ossington answered, with more conviction
than the mere words implied--
"I believe not. Alan Leslie remained behind with the purpose of
frustrating their delivery."
"Ay, and did frustrate it, I'll be bound," interposed the grandfather.
"Alan was brave, he was strong and determined. He would stick at
nothing! When did you next see him, colonel?"
"I never saw him again," replied Ossington. "Since that night when I
left him his fate has been to me a complete mystery. On the next day, at
Nairn, when the muster-roll was called, he was absent. We advanced to
Culloden, and the battle was fought--if battle it may be called which
was a mere rout. But Alan Leslie was nowhere on the field. When the
Highlanders had retreated, vanquished, and the Duke of Cumberland was
pursuing his too terrible vengeance upon the innocent and the guilty
alike, I searched among the wounded and the dead for my missing comrade,
but nowhere could I find him. Afterwards, I came here. Your castle had
been attacked and partly demolished by Hawley's dragoons. Sir John
Leslie, I heard, had gone the night before with Charles Stuart to the
house of Lord Lovat, to be present at a council of war. He afterwards
escaped with the fugitives--probably in company with his son Neil."
"Ay!" added Sir Donald; "and Neil, I'll be bound, did not neglect to
carry off the gold with him, and use it for his own selfish purposes;
for the Pretender never got the money. I'm thankful for that at least.
That he should have it were worse even than that Neil should squander
it." The old man began again to stride to and fro across the floor.
"Neil was a villain!" he cried; "an ingrain villain and scoundrel. He
ought to have been hanged with the rest of them! I could almost be
content at the loss of the family fortunes if I might only know that the
rascal had died an outlaw's death on the gallows. It was doubtless he
who prevented Alan from getting back to his regiment that night."
Colonel Ossington meditated a few moments in silence.
"Yes," he said at length, "no doubt you are right. But in what way did
he prevent him, Sir Donald? That is what I want most particularly to
know."
"To my mind there is but one answer to that question," returned Sir
Donald decisively. "My brother Alan was not in the battle, you say. If
he had been alive I am certain he would not have shirked his duty. But I
believe he was not alive, colonel; I believe that he was murdered, and
murdered by his own brother, Neil Leslie. That also would tally with the
fact that since that fatal night, Neil has never dared to show himself
at his home."
Colin Leslie here ventured to break in with a remark.
"You have no right to say such a thing, grandfather," he said
emphatically. "Why should Neil ever think of murdering Alan? He had
nothing to fear from him."
"You know nothing about the matter, boy," growled Sir Donald. "It is no
business of an ignorant lad to discuss such a thing as this with his
elders."
But Colonel Ossington did not so despise the boy's opinions.
"By the way, Master Colin," said he, "your ghost of this evening should
have some bearing on this mystery. Did you not say that the apparition
was dressed in the Highland kilt?"
"Ghost!" echoed Sir Donald in astonishment. "What ghost? What
apparition?"
"The ghost that I saw to-night when I went out with Colonel Ossington to
the stables," returned Colin; "the ghost of Neil Leslie. It went in at
the postern gate; the gate where the arms and the money were to have
been delivered."
"Ah!" the old man drew his breath in sharply, "I have heard of that
ghost before. Old Elspeth has seen it. Once, also," he hesitated,
listening to the angry blast of the wind; "once, also, on a wild,
blustering night just such as this, I saw it myself. That was many years
ago; but, I remember, it was at that same place--near the postern gate.
Probably the rascal's guilty conscience troubles him, even in his
grave--if, indeed, he be in his grave."
There was a long pause, during which the wind howled even more piteously
than before. Colonel Ossington emptied his glass and set it down with
deliberate slowness upon the table at his elbow.
"I am persuaded that there was some foul play on that night," said he,
in a low, clear voice. "But of course there can now be no proof. How
could there be, after all these years?" He leaned forward with his open
hands clasping his knees, and with his eyes fixed upon the fire. Then he
went on, as if speaking to himself: "Some years ago, just after the
taking of Quebec, I chanced to make the acquaintance of an aged
Highlander, who had a bullet in his chest and was dying in the hospital.
I learned that the man's name was David Duncan. We got talking of the
Jacobite rebellion, and I discovered that he had been present at
Culloden. Further conversation elicited the information that this same
old Highlander had been one of the Pretender's messengers sent to Castle
Leslie to convey the arms and money to the rebel encampment. Duncan and
his companions waited that night near the postern gate. They were at
their post at eleven. They waited until three o'clock. But no one ever
came to them and the arms were never delivered. While they waited,
Duncan heard a strange, weird cry, like a cry for help. Whence it came
he could not tell; neither did he know whether it was the cry of a man
or of a woman. Human it certainly was. It seemed, he said, to come out
of the ground at his feet. It was then midnight."
The old clock in the outer hall struck eleven. Sir Donald Leslie signed
to Colin, indicating that it was high time the boy was in bed. Colin
bade the two men good-night, but still lingered in the room for a few
moments, hoping to hear more of this family mystery.
"I infer from what you have said," remarked Colonel Ossington,
addressing his host, "that you have no knowledge of the secret place in
which the military stores and the gold of which we have been speaking
were hidden?"
"There is no such secret place in all the castle," returned Sir Donald.
"Of that I am quite certain. Whether the rebels received the stores or
not, the things were assuredly removed long before I returned to
Scotland."
These were the last arguments that Colin Leslie heard before he retired
to bed. As he lay wakeful on his pillow, he reflected upon the story
that had been revealed to him. The men had come to the conclusion that
Neil Leslie, the Jacobite, had murdered his own brother. "Could this
really be so?" thought Colin. The boy wondered where and in what exact
circumstances the tragedy had taken place. He wondered in which room the
guns and swords and all those thousands of golden guineas had been
hidden. Colonel Ossington had suggested a secret chamber as the probable
receptacle; but Colin knew every nook and cranny about the building, and
he was forced to acknowledge to himself that his grandfather's words
were true when he said, "There is no such secret place in all the
castle."
III
But on the following morning, when Colin accompanied Colonel Ossington
in a walk round the garden, a new light seemed to come to him.
They were passing the little postern of which so much had been said--the
postern through which, as the boy declared, he had himself seen the
apparition of Neil Leslie disappear on the previous night. Here Colin
now stood. He stamped his feet upon the ground.
"Listen!" he said. "Do you hear anything?" He stamped once again. "I've
often thought, as I have passed this spot, that the ground seems to give
back a hollow sound."
"And if it does, what of it?" asked Colonel Ossington.
"Well," said Colin, with a curious lift of his eyebrows, "I was thinking
that it is just possible there may be some cave, or passage, or cellar
under here; and that perhaps it was down there that the guns and things
you were telling us of last night were stored."
"You may be right," smiled the colonel, "but I don't see that it
matters very much now. It's so long ago, you know."
"Yes," went on Colin, "but I should like to find out, all the same. I
have often thought of it before--of the underground passage, I mean.
Most castles in Scotland have underground passages somewhere, and Castle
Leslie can scarcely be an exception. At one time I thought I had found a
way into this one." He pointed up to the top of the ivy-covered wall.
"You see the place where that buttress ends?" he asked. The colonel
nodded. "Well, last spring a jenny wren built her nest up there. I
wanted to get it. I climbed up from the inside of the ruin, and crept
along the top of the wall. I had got as far as where the nest was when,
leaning over to reach it, I felt one of the big stones give way beneath
me. I held on by the ivy; but the loosened stone fell with a crash to
the ground. I didn't look where it fell. I was only thinking of how I
should get down with the nest. But a day or two afterwards I was coming
through the place that used to be the guard-room in the old days, before
Hawley's dragoons burnt this part of the castle down, and I saw the
stone lying there. It wasn't smashed; but it had smashed the flagstone
that it had fallen upon. Some parts of the flagstone had dropped
through, right down into a sort of black well. I did not try to open the
well; although I should have done if any other boys had been here to
help me. But this morning I thought of it again in connection with your
story--"
"I understand," interrupted the colonel. "You think it may have been
down there that old Sir John Leslie hid the arms for the rebels, eh?
Well, let me see this fancied entrance to the subterranean passage.
Where is it?"
"It's through here," said Colin. And he led his companion through the
postern gate into a large roofless room.
In one of the corners there was a heap of garden refuse, covered by a
thin layer of melting snow. Colin took an old spade and industriously
cleared the rubbish away. Presently he revealed a large cracked
flagstone. He went down on his knees and busily endeavoured to dislodge
one of the broken fragments. He scraped and tore and pulled at it to no
purpose. Then he stood up and stamped upon it. The rattling of loose
earth underneath encouraged him to continue.
"Can you find such a thing as a pickaxe?" questioned Colonel Ossington.
Colin shook his head, but ran, nevertheless, in search of some such
instrument, returning some minutes afterwards with a heavy
sledge-hammer. With this he opened an assault upon the flagstone, and
soon succeeded in loosening one small fragment. A small brown rat darted
out from the excavation and scampered across the uneven floor.
"Wait!" cried the colonel; "lend me the hammer. Let us try first to
remove this smaller stone, then we can better get at the larger one."
He took the sledge-hammer, raised it over his shoulder, and brought it
down with a well-directed blow upon the smaller stone, splitting it. A
second blow broke it into splinters. These he removed. Beneath them he
discovered the end of a rusty bar of iron that was shot like a bolt
through an iron ring. The bar seemed to extend under the larger
flagstone, supporting it through its centre of gravity. For many minutes
he hammered at the rusty iron, and with each blow the flagstone trembled
on its axle and a shower of loosened stones and gravel fell into the
depths below. With each development the old soldier's energy increased,
while Colin looked on absorbed in boyish expectation.
At last the corroded bar broke. The flagstone collapsed and slipped a
few inches into the void, where it was arrested by some obstacle. Its
removal revealed an irregular opening, some two feet in diameter.
"You were right, boy," remarked the colonel; "there is indeed a secret
chamber here, and this is, or once was, its entrance. See! the flagstone
has formed a sort of trap-door. It may have been opened by a spring set
under the smaller stone at the side. Look down there; you can see the
edge of one of the stone stairs."
"Can we get down?" asked Colin.
"It is possible, I think," returned the old soldier. "But we should
require a lighted lantern. Could you fetch one?"
Colin ran off. He was absent some ten minutes. During that interval
Colonel Ossington contrived so to force back the broken flagstone that
it left an opening sufficiently wide to admit his body. He went upon his
knees and thrust his feet into the cavity, descending step by step until
his eyes were on a level with the paved floor. There he waited, resting
with his hands on the second step. The fingers of his right hand touched
something that was softer than the cold stone. He gripped it and drew it
forth into the fuller light. It was a fragment of mouldy cloth or felt.
Attached to it was a disc of tarnished metal upon which the figure "4"
was embossed.
"God!" he exclaimed, "it's the badge of the Fourth Foot."
He tore off the badge and thrust it into his pocket. At this moment
Colin Leslie appeared with the lighted lantern, and accompanied by his
grandfather.
"I am glad you have come too, Sir Donald," said the colonel somewhat
absently.
"What boy's adventure are you contriving now, colonel?" demanded Sir
Donald. "One would think that you had gone back to your childhood."
"Not quite so far back as that," returned the old soldier grimly, "but
my mind has indeed gone back to my young manhood. Give me the light,
Colin," he added, turning to the lad. "I had better, perhaps, go down in
advance."
[Illustration: "Colin handed him the lantern."]
Colin handed him the lantern and stood at the top of the steps watching
him slowly and cautiously descend. The light flickered upon the damp
moss-grown stones of the walls that formed the sides of the narrow
stairway. It went down and down, growing gradually dimmer and dimmer,
until at last it died away. The old grandfather and Colin waited,
listening. They faintly heard the tread of the colonel's spurred boots
echoing hollowly in the darkness. Once they heard him cough, and then
all was silent. The minutes slowly passed. Sir Donald grew a trifle
nervous, his nervousness being indicated by the impatient tapping of his
foot.
"Listen!" cried Colin. "I heard something fall--something that rattled."
He knelt down and peered into the opening. "I hear him walking," he
whispered. "He's coming nearer now. Now he has stopped. Now he is coming
on again. He's on the stairs. He's carrying something that knocks
against each step. I can see the reflection of the light now. And now
here's the lantern." The boy drew back. "Mind your head, colonel, or
you'll knock it," he cried.
Colonel Ossington did not require the caution. Bending his head, he
crept upward, holding the lantern in his extended hand. Presently his
face appeared in the aperture. It was ghastly white, and his eyes stared
wildly. He drew a deep breath of the fresher air.
"You had better come down," he said, glancing up at Sir Donald Leslie;
and drawing his left hand upward, he cast an old and rusty broadsword at
the old man's feet. Sir Donald glanced at the weapon and kicked it
aside.
"Come!" reiterated the colonel in a voice of authority, and the
grandfather slowly obeyed. Colin followed him down the steps, although
he was aware that he had not been included in the command. Perhaps he
would have been wiser to remain where he was, but his boyish curiosity
and love of adventure overcame his caution. Step by step they descended
into the gloom. The air about them was damp and cold and stifling. The
walls dripped with moisture. The stone stairs were slimy. Darkness
hemmed them in, saving only for a fitful glimmer of the lantern light
that was below them.
"Three steps more, Sir Donald," said the colonel, standing aside on the
firm floor of what appeared to be an arched vault. He held the light
aloft. "Now, follow me closely," he added; "the passage turns sharply to
the left. Be careful of the corner. I knocked my elbow against it just
now. Is that the boy behind you?"
"Yes."
"He ought not to have come. Never mind now; let him follow close at your
heels. Now halt and look down upon the floor while I hold the light."
The colonel held out his free hand and gripped the older man's arm,
directing his gaze into a narrow archway.
"Those are the muskets," he said. "There are two hundred there. I have
counted them."
Colin crept up to his grandfather's side, holding him by the skirts of
his coat. Looking into the archway he saw the neatly stacked-up guns,
with their rusty barrels and locks and rotting stocks.
The colonel drew his companions onward some three or four steps.
"And here are the claymores," said he. "You see the rebels did not get
them, after all."
"No, Alan was true," murmured Sir Donald. "I felt sure he would
frustrate their delivery. But--" He gripped the soldier's arm and asked
in a suppressed but eagerly acquisitive tone: "But where was the gold,
colonel? Did Neil take it all--every guinea of it?"
The colonel held his lantern full in front of Sir Donald's face, which
he regarded with an expression of undisguised contempt.
"The gold," he answered, "was stored in the next vault. And," he added
loftily, as he signed to Sir Donald to go past him, "I think you will
find it all there still."
"The light! the light!" demanded Sir Donald. "Hold it nearer, that I may
see."
By the help of the lantern he made his way a few steps farther into the
chamber. The yellow rays of light were cast into the low vault. On the
floor of hewn rock were many little canvas bags, that were so rotten and
mouldy that their sides had fallen away under the pressure of the golden
guineas that they had contained. The gold glistened in the lantern
light. With greedy outstretched hands, and with eyes staring wide with
covetousness, Sir Donald leapt at the treasure. He plunged his fingers
into the midst of the coins, lifting his filled hands, and letting the
gold fall from them in a jingling shower.
"Wonderful!" he cried. "Ah! now I am rich--rich--rich!" He glanced
behind him with shrinking, miserly fear. "It's mine--all mine!" he
frenziedly exclaimed, and proceeded eagerly to fill his pockets.
Colonel Ossington lightly touched him on the shoulder.
"Remember, my friend, that the money is Jacobite money," said he. "It
was meant for the Pretender, you know."
Sir Donald's coat-pockets were already full to overflowing.
"Meant for the Pretender?" he repeated. "Ah, but look! look!" he added,
holding up one of the coins to the light, "every one of them bears the
head of the King! No; do not go yet! Let me have the lantern."
"The money will not run away," remarked Colonel Ossington, passing on
with the lantern. "You have found it, and may return when you will. And
now, since we have solved the material part of the mystery, let us go
further that you may understand its more human side."
He led the way, with Colin at his side, and the grandfather was perforce
obliged to follow.
"There is something here that you must see," said the colonel, as,
having turned a sharp angle in the passage, he stood still, with his
hat under his arm and holding the light in front of him so that its rays
shot along the slimy floor. Wondering, Sir Donald and his grandson bent
forward, searching into the gloom. Colin drew back as his eyes rested
for a moment on something white. But he advanced again and timidly
looked once more. His trembling finger pointed down upon the floor at
the gaunt, fleshless face and the tall form of a man that was partly
hidden under mouldy folds of a Highland plaid and kilt. At the left
shoulder there was a tarnished silver brooch, set in the centre with a
dim yellow stone. The man lay flat on his back. His sword was in its
scabbard at his side; the blanched bones of his right hand still held
the remains of one of the canvas money-bags. The gold guineas lay in a
little pile beneath the long fingers.
"He was carrying that bag of gold to give to the Prince's messenger,"
cried the boy Colin, aghast. "It is Neil--Neil Leslie!"
"Yes," nodded Colonel Ossington. "And he must have been met just here by
his murderer."
"_Neil_?" echoed Sir Donald, reeling back; "my brother Neil? Then he did
not escape to France? And he has been dead all this time!" The old man
shuddered. "Murdered, did you say? But who could have murdered him down
here? Perhaps he died naturally. Perhaps he could not find his way out
up those stairs and through the stone trap-door!"
"The trap-door could certainly be opened only from the outside,"
remarked the colonel. "This place was evidently built as a dungeon--a
prison from which it was not meant that any one should escape. But," he
added solemnly, "Neil Leslie was not a prisoner. He probably left the
door open, not expecting to be interrupted by the villain who drove that
dagger into his honest heart. Do you see the dagger, Donald Leslie?" He
pointed to the dead man's breast, and brought the lantern nearer until
its gleam fell upon the jewelled hilt of a Highland dirk. "You should
recognise the weapon--as I do. It used to hang under the painted
portrait of the Lady Belinda. It is the same weapon that Alan Leslie
carried away with him on the eve of Culloden fight."
[Illustration: "Neil? my brother Neil?"]
"I do not believe it!" cried Sir Donald excitedly. "My brother Alan
never was down here. He did not know of the existence of such a place,
any more than I did until this hour. For all that you say I do not
believe but that my brother Alan died like a brave man on Culloden Moor,
fighting, I thank God, for the King!"
Colonel Ossington silently shook his head and turned away, carrying the
lantern with him to the foot of the stairs by which the three had
entered the dungeon. Here he stood, holding the lantern so that its
light shone only directly in front of him. He confronted Sir Donald and
Colin, the while he put his hand into his breast pocket, and drew
something forth which he held out for the old man's inspection.
"I found this on one of the upper stairs when I first entered," he said,
holding the thing under the light. "It came off a soldier's regimental
cap. It is the badge of the Fourth Foot. The man who wore it and who
left it lying up there was a man whom I once called my friend; but whom
I now know to have been a dishonourable spy, an unscrupulous traitor, an
assassin and a fratricide. When Neil Leslie came down here faithfully to
fulfil his father's instructions, he was dogged and followed by his
brother. It was Alan Leslie who murdered him."
"Then where is Alan now?" interrupted Sir Donald. "Why did he never come
home?"
"Because," answered the colonel, "when he came down here to kill his
brother, he made the mistake of closing the trap-door behind him. He
could not open it, he could not escape. He was imprisoned here with his
dead victim. He may have starved; he may have been suffocated by the
smoke from the burning building above him that night when Hawley's
dragoons set fire to the castle. However it was, he never left this
place." The colonel moved aside, allowing the light to shine upon the
dull red, mildewed cloth of a soldier's coat that covered the crouching
figure of a man long dead. "That is what remains of Alan Leslie," he
added grimly. He handed the lantern to Colin, bidding the lad hold it
aloft. He knelt down. "When a soldier disgraces his regiment," he
continued, "we usually remove the facings from his uniform. This man was
not worthy to wear the uniform of so honoured a regiment as the Fourth
Foot."
"I think," remarked Colin, "that, rebel though he was, Neil Leslie was
by far the better man."
"I am sure of it, my boy," returned Colonel Ossington.
A DANGEROUS GAME
BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN
_Author of "Frank and Saxon," &c. &c._
CHAPTER I
"Oh, bother the old books!"
And as if to bother them, though more likely to break their backs, Lance
Penwith closed two with a sharp clap, rose from his seat at the table,
and then, holding one flat in each hand, he walked round behind his
cousin, who was bent over another, with his elbows on the study-table, a
finger in each ear, and his eyes shut as if to keep in the passage he
was committing to memory. But the next moment he had started up, hurting
his knees, and stood glaring angrily at Lance, who was roaring with
laughter.
For the hearty-looking sunburned boy had passed behind his
fellow-student's chair with the intention of putting his books on one of
the shelves, but seeing his opportunity, a grin of enjoyment lit up his
face, and taking a step back, he stood just at his cousin's back, and
brought the two books he carried together, cymbal fashion, but with all
his might, and so close to the reader's head that the air was stirred
and the sharp crack made him spring up in alarm.
"What did you do that for?"
"To wake you up, Alfy. There, put 'em away now, and let's go down to the
cliff."
"And leave my lessons half done?--Don't you do that again. You won't be
happy till I've given you a sound thrashing."
"Shouldn't be happy then," said Lance, with a laugh; "and besides, you
couldn't do it, Alfy, my lad, without I lay down to let you."
"What! I couldn't?"
"Not you. Haven't got strength enough. Jolly old molly-coddle, why don't
you come out and bathe and climb and fish?"
"And hang about the dirty old pilchard houses and among the drying hake,
and mix with the rough old smugglers and wreckers."
"How do you know they're smugglers and wreckers?"
"Everybody says they are, and uncle would be terribly angry if I told
him all I know about your goings on."
"Tell him, then: I don't care. Father doesn't want me to spend all my
time with my nose in a book, my eyes shut, and my ears corked up with
fingers."
"Uncle wants you to know what Mr. Grimston teaches us."
"Course he does. Well, I know my bits."
"You don't: you can't. You haven't been at work an hour."
"Yes, I have; we sat down at ten, and it's a quarter past eleven, and I
know everything by heart. Now, then, you listen."
"Go on, then," cried the other.
"Not likely. I've done. Come on and let's do something. The rain's all
gone off and it's lovely out."
"There, I knew you didn't," cried the other. "You can't have learned it
all. And look here, if you do that again I shall certainly report it to
uncle."
"Very well, report away, sneaky. Now then, will you come? We'll get Old
Poltree's boat and make Hezz come and row."
The student reseated himself, frowning, and bent over his book again.
"Look here," cried his cousin, "I'll give you one more chance. Will you
come?"
No answer.
"One more chance. Will you come?"
"Will you leave off interrupting me?" cried the other furiously.
"Certainly, sir. Very sorry, sir. Hope you will enjoy yourself, sir.
Poor old Alf! He'll want specs soon."
Then pretending great alarm, the speaker darted out into the hall, and
thrust his head through a door on the right, which he half opened, and
stood looking in at a slightly grey-haired lady who was bending over her
work.
"Going out, mother," he said.
The lady looked up and smiled pleasantly.
"Don't be late for dinner, my dear. Two o'clock punctually, mind."
"Oh, I shall be back," said the boy, laughing.
"And don't do anything risky by the cliff."
"Oh no, I'll mind."
The boy closed the door and crossed the hall, just as a shadow darkened
the porch, and a tall, bluff-looking man entered.
"Hullo, you, sir!" he cried; "how is it you are not at your
studies?--Going out?"
"Yes, father; down to the shore a bit. Done lessons."
"Why don't you take your cousin with you?"
"Won't come, father. I did try."
It was only about half a mile to the cliff, where a few fishermen's
cottages stood on shelves of the mighty granite walls which looked as if
they had been built up of blocks by the old Cornish ogres, weeded out by
the celebrated Jack the Giant-killer; and here Lance made his way to
where in front of one long whitewashed granite cot, perched a hundred
feet above the shore, there was a long protecting rail formed of old
spars planted close to the edge of the cliff, just where a tiny river
discharged itself into the sea. This opened sufficiently to form a
little harbour for half-a-dozen fishing luggers, the rocks running out
sufficiently to act as a breakwater and keep off the huge billows which
at times came rolling in from the south-west, so that on one side of the
cliffs lay piled up a slope of wave-washed and rounded boulders, many as
big as great Cheshire cheeses, while on the other, where the luggers
lay, there were pebbles and sand.
Upon this rail four men were leaning with folded arms, apparently doing
nothing but stare out at the bright, clear sea; but every eye was keenly
on the look-out for one of those dark-cloud, shadow-like appearances on
the surface which to them meant money and provisions.
But there was no sign of fish breaking the surface of the water, and as
Lance approached he had a good view of four immense pairs of very thick
flannel trousers, whose bottoms were tucked into as many huge boots,
which, instead of being drawn well up their owners' thighs, hung in
folds about their ankles, and glittered in the sunshine, where they were
well specked with bright fish scales.
Higher up Lance looked upon four pairs of very short braces, hitched
over big bone buttons, and holding the aforesaid trousers close up under
their wearers' armpits. The rest of the costume consisted of caps,
home-made, and of fur formerly worn by unfortunate seals which had come
too near a boat instead of seeking safety in one of the wave-washed
caves round the point.
"Hi! Old Poltree!" shouted Lance, as he drew near, "where's Hezz?"
The broadest man present raised his head a little, screwed it round, and
unfolding his arms, set one at liberty to give three thrusts downward of
a hand which was of the same colour as all that could be seen of a very
hairy face--mahogany.
"Thankye," shouted Lance, turning off to the left, and the big man
folded his arms again and looked seaward, the others not having stirred.
Lance's turn to the left led him to a steep descent all zigzag--a way to
the shore that a stranger would have attacked like a bear and gone down
backwards; but Lance was no stranger, and the precipitous nature of the
way did not deter him, for he descended in a series of jumps from stone
to stone, till he finished with a drop of about ten or a dozen feet into
a bed of sand lying at the mouth of a wave-scooped hollow, from which
came strange moans and squeaks, the latter painfully shrill, the former
deepening at times into a roar.
The said stranger would have imagined that a person had fallen from the
cliff and was lying somewhere below, badly broken and wanting help; but
there was nothing the matter. It was only Hezz, or more commonly
"Hezzerer," in three syllables, and he had been busy at work putting a
patch on the bottom of a clumsy upturned boat which, as he put it,
"lived in the cave," and he was now daubing his new patch with hot tar
from a little three-legged iron kettle held in his left hand.
But this does not account for the groans and squeaks.
These were produced from the youth's throat. In fact, Hezz was singing
over his work, though it did not sound very musical at the time, for
something was broken; but it was only Hezz's voice, and it was only the
previous night that Old Poltree, his father, had said to Billy Poltree,
another of the big fisherman's offspring, "Yo' never know wheer to have
him now, my son: one minute he's hoarse as squire's Devon bull, and next
he's letting go like the pig at feeding time."
At the sound of the dull thuds made by Lance's feet in the sand, Hezz
Poltree whisked himself round and held his tar-kettle and brush out
like a pair of balances to make him turn, and showed a good-looking
young mahogany face--that is to say, it was paler than his father's, and
not so ruddy and polished.
"Hullo, Master--Lance," he said, widening his mouth and showing his
white teeth, joining in the laughter as the visitor threw himself down
on the sand and roared.
[Illustration: "Whisked himself round and held his tar-kettle and brush
out like a pair of balances."]
"I can't help it, Master--Lance."
"Try again," cried the new-comer, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"I do try," growled the boy, beginning once more in a deep bass, and
then ending in a treble squeak. "There's somethin' got loose in my
voice. 'Tarn't my fault. S'pose it's a sort o' cold."
"Never mind, gruff un. But I didn't know the boat was being mended. I
wanted to go out fishing, and the pitch isn't dry."
"That don't matter," growled Hezz, setting down his kettle and brush,
and catching up a couple of handfuls of dry sand, which he dashed over
the shiny tar. "Come on."
Lance came on in the way of helping to turn the clumsy boat over on its
keel; then it was spun round so as to present its bows to the sea; a
block was placed underneath, another a little way off, and the two boys
skilfully ran it down the steep sandy slope till it was half afloat,
when they left it while they went back to the natural boat-house for the
oars, hitcher, and tackle.
"Got any bait?" said Lance.
"Heaps," came in a growl. Then in a squeak--"Thought you'd come down, so
I got some wums--lugs and rags, and there's four broken pilchards in the
maund, and a couple o' dozen sand-eels in the coorge out yonder by the
buoy."
"Are there any bass off the point?"
"Few. Billy saw some playing there 'smorning, but p'raps they won't
take."
"Never mind; let's try," said Lance eagerly. "Look sharp; I must be back
in time for dinner."
"Lots o' time," growled Hezz, as he loaded himself up with the big
basket, into which he had tumbled the coarse brown lines and receptacles
of bait, including a scaly piece of board with four damaged pilchards
laid upon it and a sharp knife stuck in the middle. "You carry the oars
and boat-hook," came in a squeak.
They hurried down to the boat, and were brought back to the knowledge
that four pairs of eyes were watching them from a hundred feet overhead,
by Old Poltree roaring out as if addressing some one a mile at sea--
"You stopped that gashly leak proper, my son?"
"Iss, father," cried Hezz, in a shrill squeak, as he dumped down his
load.
Lance thrust in the oars and hitcher and sprang in, after giving the
boat a thrust; and as a little wave came in and floated her, Hezz ran
her out a bit farther and sprang in too, thrust an oar over the stern,
and sculled the craft out, fish-tail fashion, to where a black keg did
duty for a buoy. Here he kept the boat's head while Lance leaned over
the side to unhitch a piece of line and draw a spindle-shaped wicker
basket along the side to the stern, where he made it fast to a ring
bolt, the movement sending a score or so of eely-looking silvery fish
gliding over one another and flashing by the thin osiers of which the
basket was formed.
Then each seized an oar and pulled right away to get round the rocky
buttress which was continued outward in a few detached rocks, that stood
up boldly, to grow smaller farther out, and farther, till only showing
as submerged reefs over which the sea just creamed and foamed.
It was out here that the tide ran swiftly, a favourite spot for the bass
to play, and as they approached the familiar spot Lance handed his oar
to his sturdy companion, while he took one of the lines, laid the hook
and lead ready, and then drew the coorge in, opened a wicker trap-door
in the top, inserted his hand, closed the lid again, and with deft
fingers hooked the silvery writhing fish, popped it overboard, and let
the line run out with the tide, while Hezz kept the boat carefully, as
nearly as he could, in one place.
"There they are, Master Lance," he cried. "Be on the look-out; they'll
take that bait pretty sharp perhaps."
The lad was quite right, for hardly five minutes had elapsed before
there was a snatch at the line, and something was hooked.
"Got him!" cried Lance, whose face was glowing with excitement. "Oh, why
didn't Alfy come? I say, Hezz, he's a whopper. He does pull. Shall I let
him run?"
"Gahn! no. Haul him in fast as you can, 'fore he gets off."
The tackle was coarse and strong, and there was no scientific playing
attempted. It was plain, straightforward pully-hauly work, and in a very
short time the transparent water astern seemed to be cut into flashing
streaks by something silvery which was drawn in hand over hand, till,
just as Lance was leaning over to get his fingers close to the end of
the snood where the hook was tied, the water was splashed up into his
face, and he sat up with a cry of disappointment, seeing only a streak
of silver flashing in the sunshine, for the fish had gone.
"Never mind: bait again," squeaked Hezz.
"Bait again," cried Lance, imitating him. "What! with that hook? Look at
it. Nearly straightened out. I wish you wouldn't have such nasty
soft-roed things. Why, that was a fifteen pounder."
"Take another hook, Master Lance. Look sharp; look at 'em playing."
Lance put on a fresh hook, baited again, and sent the sand-eel gliding
off along the rushing tide, which played among the rocks like a
mill-stream, and waited excitedly for another snatch, but waited in
vain.
"Don't pull," he said at last; "let the boat run out a bit."
Hezz obeyed, cleverly managing so that the boat glided slowly after the
bait in the direction of the broken water where the shoal of bass could
be seen feeding; but they got no nearer, for so sure as the boat went
farther from land, so did the fish, and in spite of fresh and tempting
baits being tried there was no seizure made.
"That there one as got away has told all the others to look out," said
Hezz, with a chuckle. "You won't get another bite."
"Stuff and nonsense! Just as if fish could talk! Let's go out farther."
The boat glided on, with the current growing less swift, and at last
Lance drew in his line, sat down, and between them they rowed slowly in
against the sharp current.
"It's no good now," said Hezz. "Let's go along yonder by the mouth of
the caves, and try for a pollack among the rocks. If we don't get one we
may ketch a rock-fish or two."
"Or a conger in one of the deep holes."
"Nay, you won't ketch none o' them till it's getting dark."
"Dark enough in the holes," said Lance.
"Very well; you try."
So the boat was rowed out of the sharp current, and then away towards
the west under the cliffs, and about a hundred yards from the shore,
where the tide ran slowly. Here Lance gave up his oar and began to fish
again, trying first one and then another kind of bait, but with no
greater result than catching a grey gurnard--"tub" Hezz called it--and
soon after a couple of gaily-coloured wrasse, not worth having.
"Oh, this is miserable work!" cried the boy, drawing in his line and
covering a large hook with half a pilchard. "Pull a little farther
along, and I'll throw out in that dark quiet part. There'll be a conger
there, I know."
Hezz uttered a croak, and his eyes said plainly, "No conger there"; but
he rowed to the spot, which was where a rock rose up out of the water
like a little island, on which a dusky cormorant which had been fishing
sat drying its wet wings, paying no heed to the approaching boat till it
was some twenty yards away, when the bird took flight and went off close
to the surface.
"Now put her just in yonder," said Lance, "and be as gentle as you can,
so as to keep her there without splashing."
Hezz obeyed cleverly enough; and his companion, after seeing that the
line lay in rings free from obstruction, sent the heavy sinker and bait
right away to where the water looked blackest, making Hezz chuckle
loudly.
[Illustration: "Rev'nue cutter," said Hezz shortly.]
"What are you laughing at?"
"You: telling me to be so quiet, and sending the lead in with a splash
like that."
"Don't matter; it's only at the top. The fish deep down won't notice it.
Look! it is deep too," for the line went on running out as the lead
descended, and Lance seated himself to wait, with a self-satisfied look
upon his countenance.
"I like fishing in the still water," he said. "You see if I don't soon
get hold of something big."
"P'raps," said Hezz; "but I never caught anything here."
"Ah, you don't know everything. I say, what's that vessel out yonder?"
"_Chasse-marée_," said Hezz, shading his eyes to look at the long
three-masted lugger with a display of interest.
"No, no; the one with all the white sails set."
"Rev'nue cutter," said Hezz shortly; and proof of his words was given
the next minute, for there was a white puff of smoke seen to dart out
from her bows, and a dull thud echoed from the cliff.
"Why, she's after that long lugger. She's a smuggler," cried Lance
excitedly. "Is there going to be a fight?"
"Na-a-a-a-y!" growled Hezz. "She's only fishing."
"How do you know? She's a smuggler, and there'll be a fight. Let's row
out and see."
But in obedience to the summons the long low vessel glided slowly round
till her brown sails began to shiver and flap, and as the boys watched
they saw the cutter run pretty close up, and a small boat was lowered
and rowed across.
"They're French, and cowards," cried Lance, who was deeply interested.
"They've surrendered without striking a blow."
"Arn't got nothing to strike blows with," croaked Hezz sulkily. "Didn't
I tell you she was a fishing-boat?"
"Oh, yes; but I know what fishing-boats catch sometimes, Master Hezz,"
said Lance, laughing, his companion looking at him curiously the
while--"brandy snappers, 'bacco biters, and lace-fins, Hezz. But they're
French cowards, or they'd have made a run of it. I say, they'll make her
a prize, and take her into port. Where will they take her--Plymouth or
Falmouth?"
"Nowheres. They'll let her go."
The lads sat watching till all at once in the distance they saw the
little boat row back, and the sails of the _chasse-marée_ began to fill.
"Who's right now?" said Hezz, laughing.
"I am. They've put a prize crew on board."
"What! out of that little boat?" squeaked Hezz. "That they haven't.
There was five in her when she put put off, and there's five in her
now."
"You can't see at this distance."
"Can't I? That I can, quite plain."
"That's upset all my fishing," said Lance, "and it's getting on for
dinner-time. Oh, what bad luck I do have!"
"You ketch lots sometimes, and you did nearly get a fine bass to-day.
That was a good twelve-pounder."
"Twelve? Fifteen," said Lance, preparing to haul in his line.
"P'raps," said Hezz. "Going to try any more?"
"No; I mustn't be late for----Oh, look here! I've got one on."
For the line was tight, and as Lance began to haul, it was against a
heavy persistent drag.
"Lead caught in the rocks," croaked Hezz contemptuously.
"Oh, is it! Look here! It's coming up."
"Weed, then," squeaked Hezz.
"'Tisn't," cried Lance; "I know by the heavy, steady pull. It's a big
conger."
"No congers there."
"How do you know?"
"And if there were they wouldn't bite at this time of day."
"You mind your own business," cried Lance excitedly. "It's a thumping
big one, and he isn't awake yet to his being hooked. He's coming, and
he'll begin to make a rush directly to get in his hole. You begin
rowing, and get him right out away from the rocks."
Hezz did as he was told, but only made two or three strokes and then
stopped, for his companion had to give line.
"Slower," said Lance, panting, as he held on again. "Wait till he makes
a rush. I say, did you bring the big gaff hook?"
"No; but that line'll hold any conger you can catch, and I've got the
little chopper in the locker when he comes on board. But that isn't a
conger."
"'Tis, I tell you. I can feel him trying to get back.--What is it,
then?"
"Weed," croaked Hezz in his deep bass.
"You're a weed! It's a big conger, and he has got his tail round a rock
or in a hole."
"Let him go, then."
"What? Why he'd shuffle back into his hole, and I should lose him. Wait
till he gets a bit tired and gives way a bit."
"Let go, and if it's a conger he'll slack the line and come swimming up
to see what's the matter. But you've only hooked a weed."
"Ha! ha!" laughed Lance. "You're a clever one, Hezz. Look, he's coming
up quite steady;" and the boy drew in a couple of yards of line.
"It arn't a conger, or he'd begin to cut about now and shake his head to
get riddy of the hook."
"Then it's some other big fish. Think it's a shark."
"No. What would a shark be doing there?"
"I dunno; but he's coming up. I say, put down the oars."
Hezz nodded, laid in his oars, and stood close behind his companion,
gradually growing as excited for a minute or so, and then grinning.
"It arn't no fish," he said.
"It is, I tell you," cried Lance, as he kept up a steady haul, the boat
having yielded till it was exactly over the line.
"I never see a fish take it so quiet as that," continued Hezz.
"It's only till he sees us, and then he'll make a desperate rush to get
away."
"I'll be ready for him," said Hezz, laughing softly, as he gently rested
the handle of the boat-hook on the side, thrusting it out towards the
tightened line, which still came slowly in, though the strain threatened
to make it part. "Hope it will be good to eat, Master Lance."
"I know what it is," cried the boy, in a low hoarse voice. "It's one of
those great cuttles, the same as were washed on shore after last year's
storm. It will come up all of a lump, with its feelers and suckers
twisted round the line."
A sudden change came over Hezz. Instead of grinning, his face turned
preternaturally solemn, and taking his right hand from the boat-hook he
thrust it into his pocket, drew out a big jack-knife, to open it by
seizing the blade in his teeth.
"That's right," whispered Lance, husky now with the excitement; "but
don't use the knife if you can get a good hold with the hook. Look,
look, here it comes! Oh, it is a monster!"
[Illustration: "A vigorous cut divided the fishing-line."]
The boy had been steadily hauling till he had brought his capture nearly
to the surface, and he now caught sight of what seemed to be its curved
and rounded body.
"Now, Hezz--quick! down with the hook. Get a good hold at once. Snatch,
lad, snatch!"
But at the crucial moment, when the dark back of the monster slowly
rolled up to the surface, Hezz dropped the boat-hook, leaned over the
side, hindering his companion's view, and plunged his knife-armed hand
down under water.
The next moment there was a slight jar which ran from Lance's fingers
right up his arms, the tension ceased, and a yard or two of the stout
fishing-line flew up in the holder's face.
For, as if to save his companion from some danger, Hezz had reached down
as low as he could, and with a vigorous cut divided the fishing-line, so
that the dark round body sank down again like a shadow, leaving the two
lads gazing fiercely at each other.
"Oh, I say!" cried Lance. "Only to think of that! Why, Hezz, it's----"
"Never you mind what it is," said the boy roughly.
"And you knew it was, then?"
"Swears I didn't," said the boy fiercely. "Think I should have let you
fish there if I had knowed?"
"Why, there must have been a whole string of 'em tied together on a line
and sunk there."
"You don't know nothing of the sort," growled Hezz. "You didn't see."
"I saw one; and another coming like a shadow."
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did--brandy kegs--smuggled. Here, I'll hail the cutter."
"No, you don't," said Hezz fiercely; and as he stood with the knife in
his hand he looked threatening. "They couldn't hear you if you did."
"Then I'll make signals."
"No, you won't. I shan't let you, and you wouldn't be such a sneak,
Master Lance."
"It isn't the act of a sneak."
"Yes, it is. Your cousin would, but you wouldn't get poor men into
trouble."
That hit hard, and Lance hesitated.
"Why, it must be your father's and your brother's doing. And just under
our noses too! Oh, what a disgraceful shame! There, Hezz, I've done with
you."
"I didn't know about it, Master Lance."
"You must have known."
"Wish I may die if I did. There!"
"Take the oars, Hezz," said Lance coldly.
"But, Master Lance----?"
"Take the oars," said Lance sternly. "I want to go home."
"To tell Squire Penwith what you've seen? O Master Lance! you don't know
what you're going to do."
"No," said Lance sternly, as the lad took the oars and began to row
back, "I don't."
"You make me feel as if I'd sooner kill you than you should do this. It
means having my poor father took up and sent out of the country, and
p'raps he didn't know the kegs was hid like that."
"Go on rowing, I tell you," cried Lance sharply, "make haste. Pull! do
you hear? Pull!"
Hezz uttered a low sound something like a gulp, and dragged away at the
oars with all his might till he ran the boat on to the sands, where
Lance was perfectly aware, though he would not look up, that the four
big fishermen were still leaning over the rail and looking out to sea,
and he expected to hear a cheery question as to sport as he hurried up
over the sands and began to climb the zigzag.
But no hail came, for the men's eyes were bent upon the revenue cutter,
a mile away, watching every movement of that and the _chasse-marée_.
At least so thought Lance Penwith as he hurried home, pondering upon his
cousin's words, and asking himself whether he was not doing wrong by
associating with these fisher-folk on the cliff.
"I must tell father," he said to himself. "I ought to tell him," he
said; and then he began thinking of what it meant, the severe punishment
of pretty well every man in the cluster of cottages, some being sent to
prison, the younger men to serve in King George's men-of-war; and ever
since he could remember, they had all been to him the kindest friends.