THE ARRIVAL OF JACK PRINGLE.—MIDNIGHT AND THE
VAMPYRE.—THE MYSTERIOUS HAT.
“Bless me! what is that?” said Mr. Chillingworth; “what a very singular
sound.”
“Hold your noise,” said the admiral; “did you never hear that before?”
“No; how should I?”
“Lor, bless the ignorance of some people, that’s a boatswain’s call.”
“Oh, it is,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “is he going to call again?”
“D——e, I tell ye it’s a boatswain’s call.”
“Well, then, d——e, if it comes to that,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “what
does he call here for?”
The admiral disdained an answer; but demanding the lantern, he opened
it, so that there was a sufficient glimmering of light to guide him,
and then walked from the room towards the front door of the Hall.
He asked no questions before he opened it, because, no doubt, the
signal was preconcerted; and Jack Pringle, for it was he indeed who had
arrived, at once walked in, and the admiral barred the door with the
same precision with which it was before secured.
“Well, Jack,” he said, “did you see anybody?”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said Jack.
“Why, ye don’t mean that—where?”
“Where I bought the grub; a woman——”
“D——e, you’re a fool, Jack.”
“You’re another.”
“Hilloa, ye scoundrel, what d’ye mean by talking to me in that way? is
this your respect for your superiors?”
“Ship’s been paid off, long ago,” said Jack, “and I ain’t got no
superiors. I ain’t a marine or a Frenchman.”
“Why, you’re drunk.”
“I know it; put that in your eye.”
“There’s a scoundrel. Why, you know-nothing-lubber, didn’t I tell you
to be careful, and that everything depended upon secrecy and caution?
and didn’t I tell you, above all this, to avoid drink?”
“To be sure you did.”
“And yet you come here like a rum cask.”
“Yes; now you’ve had your say, what then?”
“You’d better leave him alone,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “it’s no use
arguing with a drunken man.”
“Harkye, admiral,” said Jack, steadying himself as well as he could.
“I’ve put up with you a precious long while, but I won’t no longer;
you’re so drunk, now, that you keeping bobbing up and down like the
mizen gaff in a storm—that’s my opinion—tol de rol.”
“Let him alone, let him alone,” urged Mr. Chillingworth.
“The villain,” said the admiral; “he’s enough to ruin everything; now,
who would have thought that? but it’s always been the way with him for
a matter of twenty years—he never had any judgment in his drink. When
it was all smooth sailing, and nothing to do, and the fellow might
have got an extra drop on board, which nobody would have cared for,
he’s as sober as a judge; but, whenever there’s anything to do, that
wants a little cleverness, confound him, he ships rum enough to float a
seventy-four.”
“Are you going to stand anything to drink,” said Jack, “my old buffer?
Do you recollect where you got your knob scuttled off Beyrout—how you
fell on your latter end and tried to recollect your church cateckis,
you old brute?—I’s ashamed of you. Do you recollect the brown girl you
bought for thirteen bob and a tanner, at the blessed Society Islands,
and sold her again for a dollar, to a nigger seven feet two, in his
natural pumps? you’re a nice article, you is, to talk of marines and
swabs, and shore-going lubbers, blow yer. Do you recollect the little
Frenchman that told ye he’d pull your blessed nose, and I advised you
to soap it? do you recollect Sall at Spithead, as you got in at a port
hole of the state cabin, all but her behind?”
“Death and the devil!” said the admiral, breaking from the grasp of Mr.
Chillingworth.
“Ay,” said Jack, “you’ll come to ’em both one of these days, old cock,
and no mistake.”
“I’ll have his life, I’ll have his life,” roared the admiral.
“Nay, nay, sir,” said Mr. Chillingworth, catching the admiral round the
waist. “My dear sir, recollect, now, if I may venture to advise you,
Admiral Bell, there’s a lot of that fiery hollands you know, in the
next room; set him down to that, and finish him off. I’ll warrant him,
he’ll be quiet enough.”
“What’s that you say?” cried Jack—“hollands!—who’s got any?—next to rum
and Elizabeth Baker, if I has an affection, it’s hollands.”
“Jack!” said the admiral.
“Ay, ay, sir!” said Jack, instinctively.
“Come this way.”
Jack staggered after him, and they all reached the room where the
admiral and Mr. Chillingworth had been sitting before the alarm.
“There!” said the admiral, putting the light upon the table, and
pointing to the bottle; “what do you think of that?”
“I never thinks under such circumstances,” said Jack. “Here’s to the
wooden walls of old England!”
He seized the bottle, and, putting its neck into his mouth, for a few
moments nothing was heard but a gurgling sound of the liquor passing
down his throat; his head went further and further back, until, at
last, over he went, chair and bottle and all, and lay in a helpless
state of intoxication on the floor.
“So far, so good,” said the admiral. “He’s out of the way, at all
events.”
“I’ll just loosen his neckcloth,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “and then
we’ll go and sit somewhere else; and I should recommend that, if
anywhere, we take up our station in that chamber, once Flora’s,
where the mysterious panelled portrait hangs, that bears so strong a
resemblance to Varney, the vampyre.”
“Hush!” said the admiral. “What’s that?”
They listened for a moment intently; and then, distinctly, upon the
gravel path outside the window, they heard a footstep, as if some
person were walking along, not altogether heedlessly, but yet without
any very great amount of caution or attention to the noise he might
make.
“Hist!” said the doctor. “Not a word. They come.”
“What do you say they for?” said the admiral.
“Because something seems to whisper me that Mr. Marchdale knows more
of Varney, the vampyre, than ever he has chosen to reveal. Put out the
light.”
“Yes, yes—that’ll do. The moon has risen; see how it streams through
the chinks of the shutters.”
“No, no—it’s not in that direction, or our light would have betrayed
us. Do you not see the beams come from that half glass-door leading to
the greenhouse?”
“Yes; and there’s the footstep again, or another.”
Tramp, tramp came a footfall again upon the gravel path, and, as
before, died away upon their listening ears.
“What do you say now,” said Mr. Chillingworth—“are there not two?”
“If they were a dozen,” said the admiral, “although we have lost one of
our force, I would tackle them. Let’s creep on through the rooms in the
direction the footsteps went.”
“My life on it,” said Mr. Chillingworth as they left the apartment,
“if this be Varney, he makes for that apartment where Flora slept, and
which he knows how to get admission to. I’ve studied the house well,
admiral, and to get to that window any one from here outside must take
a considerable round. Come on—we shall be beforehand.”
“A good idea—a good idea. Be it so.”
Just allowing themselves sufficient light to guide them on the way
from the lantern, they hurried on with as much precipitation as the
intricacies of the passage would allow, nor halted till they had
reached the chamber were hung the portrait which bore so striking and
remarkable a likeness to Varney, the vampyre.
They left the lamp outside the door, so that not even a straggling
beam from it could betray that there were persons on the watch; and
then, as quietly as foot could fall, they took up their station among
the hangings of the antique bedstead, which has been before alluded to
in this work as a remarkable piece of furniture appertaining to that
apartment.
“Do you think,” said the admiral, “we’ve distanced them?”
“Certainly we have. It’s unlucky that the blind of the window is down.”
“Is it? By Heaven, there’s a d—d strange-looking shadow creeping over
it.”
Mr. Chillingworth looked almost with suspended breath. Even he could
not altogether get rid of a tremulous feeling, as he saw that the
shadow of a human form, apparently of very large dimensions, was on
the outside, with the arms spread out, as if feeling for some means of
opening the window.
It would have been easy now to have fired one of the pistols direct
upon the figure; but, somehow or another, both the admiral and Mr.
Chillingworth shrank from that course, and they felt much rather
inclined to capture whoever might make his appearance, only using their
pistols as a last resource, than gratuitously and at once to resort to
violence.
“Who should you say that was?” whispered the admiral.
“Varney, the vampyre.”
“D—e, he’s ill-looking and big enough for anything—there’s a noise!”
There was a strange cracking sound at the window, as if a pane of glass
was being very stealthily and quietly broken; and then the blind was
agitated slightly, confusing much the shadow that was cast upon it, as
if the hand of some person was introduced for the purpose of effecting
a complete entrance into the apartment.
“He’s coming in,” whispered the admiral.
“Hush, for Heaven’s sake!” said Mr. Chillingworth; “you will alarm him,
and we shall lose the fruit of all the labour we have already bestowed
upon the matter; but did you not say something, admiral, about lying
under the window and catching him by the leg?”
“Why, yes; I did.”
“Go and do it, then; for, as sure as you are a living man, his leg will
be in in a minute.”
“Here goes,” said the admiral; “I never suggest anything which I’m
unwilling to do myself.”
Whoever it was that now was making such strenuous exertions to get into
the apartment seemed to find some difficulty as regarded the fastenings
of the window, and as this difficulty increased, the patience of the
party, as well as his caution deserted him, and the casement was
rattled with violence.
With a far greater amount of caution than any one from a knowledge
of his character would have given him credit for, the admiral crept
forward and laid himself exactly under the window.
The depth of wood-work from the floor to the lowest part of the
window-frame did not exceed above two feet; so that any one could
conveniently step in from the balcony outside on to the floor of the
apartment, which was just what he who was attempting to effect an
entrance was desirous of doing.
It was quite clear that, be he who he might, mortal or vampyre, he
had some acquaintance with the fastening of the window; for now he
succeeded in moving it, and the sash was thrown open.
The blind was still an obstacle; but a vigorous pull from the intruder
brought that down on the prostrate admiral; and then Mr. Chillingworth
saw, by the moonlight, a tall, gaunt figure standing in the balcony, as
if just hesitating for a moment whether to get head first or feet first
into the apartment.
Had he chosen the former alternative he would need, indeed, to have
been endowed with more than mortal powers of defence and offence to
escape capture, but his lucky star was in the ascendancy, and he put
his foot in first.
He turned his side to the apartment and, as he did so, the bright
moonlight fell upon his face, enabling Mr. Chillingworth to see,
without the shadow of a doubt, that it was, indeed, Varney, the
vampyre, who was thus stealthily making his entrance into Bannerworth
Hall, according to the calculation which had been made by the admiral
upon that subject. The doctor scarcely knew whether to be pleased or
not at this discovery; it was almost a terrifying one, sceptical as
he was upon the subject of vampyres, and he waited breathless for the
issue of the singular and perilous adventure.
No doubt Admiral Bell deeply congratulated himself upon the success
which was about to crown his stratagem for the capture of the intruder,
be he who he might, and he writhed with impatience for the foot to come
sufficiently near him to enable him to grasp it.
His patience was not severely tried, for in another moment it rested
upon his chest.
“Boarders a hoy!” shouted the admiral, and at once he laid hold of the
trespasser. “Yard-arm to yard-arm, I think I’ve got you now. Here’s a
prize, doctor! he shall go away without his leg if he goes away now.
Eh! what! the light—d—e, he has—Doctor, the light! the light! Why
what’s this?—Hilloa, there!”
Dr. Chillingworth sprang into the passage, and procured the light—in
another moment he was at the side of the admiral, and the lantern slide
being thrown back, he saw at once the dilemma into which his friend had
fallen.
There he lay upon his back, grasping, with the vehemence of an embrace
that had in it much of the ludicrous, a long boot, from which the
intruder had cleverly slipped his leg, leaving it as a poor trophy in
the hands of his enemies.
“Why you’ve only pulled his boot off,” said the doctor; “and now he’s
gone for good, for he knows what we’re about, and has slipped through
your fingers.”
Admiral Bell sat up and looked at the boot with a rueful countenance.
“Done again!” he said.
“Yes, you are done,” said the doctor; “why didn’t you lay hold of the
leg while you were about it, instead of the boot? Admiral, are these
your tactics?”
“Don’t be a fool,” said the admiral; “put out the light and give me
the pistols, or blaze away yourself into the garden; a chance shot may
do something. It’s no use running after him; a stern chase is a long
chase; but fire away.”
As if some parties below had heard him give the word, two loud reports
from the garden immediately ensued, and a crash of glass testified to
the fact that some deadly missile had entered the room.
“Murder!” said the doctor, and he fell flat upon his back. “I don’t
like this at all; it’s all in your line, admiral, but not in mine.”
“All’s right, my lad,” said the admiral; “now for it.”
He saw lying in the moonlight the pistols which he and the doctor had
brought into the room, and in another moment he, to use his own words,
returned the broadside of the enemy.
“D—n it!” he said, “this puts me in mind of old times. Blaze away, you
thieves, while I load; broadside to broadside. It’s your turn now; I
scorn to take an advantage. What the devil’s that?”
Something very large and very heavy came bang against the window,
sending it all into the room, and nearly smothering the admiral with
the fragments. Another shot was then fired, and in came something else,
which hit the wall on the opposite side of the room, rebounding from
thence on to the doctor, who gave a yell of despair.
After that all was still; the enemy seemed to be satisfied that they
had silenced the garrison. And it took the admiral a great deal of
kicking and plunging to rescue himself from some superincumbent mass
that was upon him, which seemed to him to be a considerable sized tree.
“Call this fair fighting,” he shouted—“getting a man’s legs and arms
tangled up like a piece of Indian matting in the branches of a tree?
Doctor, I say! hilloa! where are you?”
“I don’t know,” said the doctor; “but there’s somebody getting into the
balcony—now we shall be murdered in cold blood!”
“Where’s the pistols?”
“Fired off, of course; you did it yourself.”
Bang came something else into the room, which, from the sound it made,
closely resembled a brick, and after that somebody jumped clean into
the centre of the floor, and then, after rolling and writhing about in
a most singular manner, slowly got up, and with various preliminary
hiccups, said,—
“Come on, you lubbers, many of you as like. I’m the tar for all
weathers.”
“Why, d—e,” said the admiral, “it’s Jack Pringle.”
“Yes, it is,” said Jack, who was not sufficiently sober to recognise
the admiral’s voice. “I sees as how you’ve heard of me. Come on, all of
you.”
“Why, Jack, you scoundrel,” roared the admiral, “how came you here?
Don’t you know me? I’m your admiral, you horse-marine.”
“Eh?” said Jack. “Ay—ay, sir, how came you here?”
“How came you, you villain?”
“Boarded the enemy.”
“The enemy who you boarded was us; and hang me if I don’t think you
haven’t been pouring broadsides into us, while the enemy were scudding
before the wind in another direction.”
“Lor!” said Jack.
“Explain, you scoundrel, directly—explain.”
“Well, that’s only reasonable,” said Jack; and giving a heavier lurch
than usual, he sat down with a great bounce upon the floor. “You see
it’s just this here,—when I was a coming of course I heard, just as I
was a going, that ere as made me come all in consequence of somebody a
going, or for to come, you see, admiral.”
“Doctor,” cried the admiral, in a great rage, “just help me out of this
entanglement of branches, and I’ll rid the world from an encumbrance by
smashing that fellow.”
“Smash yourself!” said Jack. “You know you’re drunk.”
“My dear admiral,” said Mr. Chillingworth, laying hold of one of his
legs, and pulling it very hard, which brought his face into a lot of
brambles, “we’re making a mess of this business.”
“Murder!” shouted the admiral; “you are indeed. Is that what you call
pulling me out of it? You’ve stuck me fast.”
“I’ll manage it,” said Jack. “I’ve seed him in many a scrape, and I’ve
seed him out. You pull me, doctor, and I’ll pull him. Yo hoy!”
Jack laid hold of the admiral by the scuff of the neck, and the doctor
laid hold of Jack round the waist, the consequence of which was that
he was dragged out from the branches of the tree, which seemed to have
been thrown into the room, and down fell both Jack and the doctor.
At this instant there was a strange hissing sound heard below the
window; then there was a sudden, loud report, as if a hand-grenade had
gone off. A spectral sort of light gleamed into the room, and a tall,
gaunt-looking figure rose slowly up in the balcony.
“Beware of the dead!” said a voice. “Let the living contend with the
living, the dead with the dead. Beware!”
The figure disappeared, as did also the strange, spectral-looking
light. A death-like silence ensued, and the cold moonbeams streamed in
upon the floor of the apartment, as if nothing had occurred to disturb
the wrapped repose and serenity of the scene.