THE EFFECT OF KIDD’S VISIT
During the next forenoon I had no opportunity to go to Yorke. Nor did I
feel the duty quite so necessary now that I thought Louis had been
beforehand in the matter of warning the governor. For a long time that
morning the patroon and I were closeted together. He had begun to
suspect the dwarf himself and the suspicion irritated him beyond
measure. At last he suggested plainly that Louis must be aware of his
motive in garrisoning the fort.
“But,” said I, sure at last that my own suspicions were correct, “why
should a knowledge of your motives take him to Yorke?”
The patroon flushed with anger when he discovered how carelessly he had
disclosed his secret. There seemed to be a moment’s hesitation in his
mind as to what to do, but he saw plainly that I now understood the
whole situation clearly. Patroon Van Volkenberg was a man who always
acted with decision and at once. He saw that there was no use to brazen
it out, and so he made a clean avowal.
“I took you for a man of sense, but I see that you are a fool.”
I had had too long a time of training in keeping cool under adverse
circumstances to mind a little fling like this.
“Your words to me yesterday on the way,” I said.
He snapped his fingers. “Mere practice. I wanted someone to practice on,
otherwise I should have laughed in Bellamont’s face.”
This taunt was a home thrust, the more so since I had been completely
taken in at the time.
“Well,” said I, with a hint of sarcasm in my voice, in spite of my
desire not to rouse him yet. “If Louis knows this I should say that
you—”
“What of me?”
“That you are in a bad way.”
“True,” he answered, totally unmoved. “I have been in a bad way for a
long time; but I have the Earl on the hip now.”
“He has the deed to your estate.”
“I shall get it back. I gave him that to win his confidence. I never
thought he would swallow such an open bait. I took so many men with me
because I thought he would order my arrest. If I had known what a gull
he would prove I should have got inside the fort with half the number.
But the best is yet to come. Be ready to-night to go with me to Webber’s
tavern. I expect great news, glorious news; news that will shake Yorke
to its foundation. In the meantime I must look for Louis.”
At that moment the door opened without a warning knock and Louis Van
Ramm stepped across the threshold. For a moment the master and servant
remained where they were without moving. The patroon sat in his great
leather chair. In front of him was a table strewn with papers. A
decanter of wine with a tray of glasses stood in the center, and lying
close at hand, his long, sharp pointed sword. Within a yard of the door,
glowering across the intervening table, was the sullen figure of the
white-haired dwarf.
“Well,” said the patroon viciously after two minutes of this strained
silence.
“Well,” echoed the dwarf.
“What do you come here for?”
“Money.”
“State your errand,” he cried, starting up in anger.
“That is easily done,” answered the dwarf, doggedly, at the same time
taking a cautious step or two forward. “Do not get impetuous,” he
continued with a sneer. “I have written out all that I know and have
left the writing with my friends. I have come to ask what you will give
me not to have the seals broken.”
If Louis had expected to find his master a prey to one of his usual fits
of rage, he was disappointed. In a moment the patroon had overcome his
first outbreak and smiled, leaning back upon the arm of his chair; then
he dropped his hand cautiously on the table near the hilt of his sword.
“Now hearken, Kilian Van Volkenberg,” Louis began in an insolent tone.
“I know why the Red Band is in the fort, and I know why William Kidd
came here last night.”
The patroon had shown no emotion at the mention of the first of these
facts, but the second seemed to startle him.
“So you were somewhere near about after all, were you?”
“I was in the bottom of the sideboard last night, and heard you discuss
all your plans.”
“You lie,” said the patroon, yet he was calm withal. I could see the
shadow of fear in his face, but he gave no sign of it by word or act.
“Louis Van Ramm, you lie in your throat.”
“Perhaps, but I have written out the full account of all I heard, and my
friends will break the seals at noon unless—”
“Unless what?” for Louis paused.
“Unless you pay me a thousand pounds.”
“I could pay that, you fool, but I know you lie.” The master’s voice was
wavering and I knew he believed what he denied with so much confidence.
“This tale does not take me in. It is impossible. You could not have
overheard, and if you did there is nothing I would not be willing to
have published.”
The dwarf looked at him in contempt. For a moment I doubted whether he
really had any proof. It might all be a skilful lie to blackmail the
patroon. But not so! Louis raised his finger slowly, pointing at his
master. His mouth opened, but he waited maliciously before he spoke, as
if he knew well the fatal result of his next word. Then he snapped out
suddenly, “Jacques.”
The effect was instantaneous. With a sharp cry of rage the patroon
caught up his sword. He lunged forward before either of us had a moment
to think what he was doing, and passed the sharp blade clean through the
body of the dwarf. Louis toppled forward across the table without
uttering a sound. The glasses shattered with a crash, and the wine from
the decanter trickled out and mingled with the blood which I can hear to
this day, as it rattled with a sharp sound on the papers which were
everywhere about. The patroon stood mopping the sweat from his brow and
looking down on the body of his henchman.
“Come with me, Vincent, come with me. If what this fellow said is true,
I am in a trap indeed. Perhaps the papers are in his room, perhaps he
did not write them, but let us see.”
We went to Louis’s room and ransacked every corner for some sign of the
papers. We sounded the floor for loose boards. We tore open the bedding.
We let no nook or cranny escape our vigilance. But nothing rewarded our
search.
“Well,” muttered Van Volkenberg moodily, “he must have told the truth.
Someone else has the papers if they were ever written at all. Who had he
for friends?” Then he swore a fearful oath, for he had thought of the
Marmadukes. “If she comes against me—” He doubled his fists, but did not
finish the sentence.
We went back to dispose of the body of Louis. When this was done the
patroon prepared to summon the remaining members of the Red Band. I did
not know what he wanted of his retainers, nor did I care. I remembered
what Louis had said to me about the loose bricks by the oven and that I
should look there in case of his death by violence. I resolved to do a
little hunting on my own account and, sure enough, when I reached the
place, I found two small packets, which I hastily concealed about me and
retired to my room. One of the packets was marked “The Great Secret.”
The other bore the date of that very day. I tore it open. Here is what I
read:
“I heard the whole conversation between Van Volkenberg and Captain Kidd.
The latter has come here to recruit the crew which is to take the
Adventure out to sea to capture pirate ships. Van Volkenberg has agreed
to furnish the eighty men needed to complete the crew. The agreement is
that as soon as they are well at sea these men are to mutiny. Kidd is to
give in without resistance. Then they are all to turn pirates. Van
Volkenberg is to get a share of the booty and to start the rumor that
this was Bellamont’s intention from the first. There was another plan
disclosed”
The account stopped abruptly, without even the formality of a period.
Louis may have been interrupted in his writing and found no chance to
finish, or he may have thought better and decided not to tell all he
knew. Of this fact, of course, no one will ever know. I was about to
break the seal of the second packet and read the Great Secret, when I
heard steps in the corridor on the way to my door. The next moment there
was a knock.
“Patroon Van Volkenberg wishes your presence in the hall,” said the
messenger.
Five minutes later I was at the door of the assembly room where the
remainder of the Red Band had already gathered and seemed to be waiting
for my appearance. This was the first time I had seen them together by
daylight, and as I glanced round upon their faces, several questions
that I had often asked myself were partly answered. The lower class I
had seen everywhere so far in and about Yorke were men whose
independence of spirit and ability to think for themselves would not
have countenanced such blind obedience to a leader as was shown by these
men of the Red Band. But as I looked upon them now I saw the reason.
Most of them were foreigners, all of them weather-beaten soldiers or
sailors, who may have seen as many campaigns or more than I had seen
myself. As soldiers they had had obedience drilled into their very
bones. But there was another reason yet. Three of the men who stood
nearest to me had each but one ear. Several more had letters branded
upon their foreheads or upon their hands. I knew well enough what that
meant. In a time when, on the continent, as well as in the colonies,
mutilation was so common, I needed no one to tell me how many of the
members of the Red Band had served their time in prison. Surely this was
a lawless set of men. They spared no one, and every man’s hand was
against them. The newness of the patroon’s attempt to assume rights that
were no longer his may have been all that accounted for his criminal
deeds being kept a secret thus far; but I thought, as I looked at these
men, to whom could they turn if they once deserted their present master?
Van Volkenberg had drawn largely upon his followers when he garrisoned
the fort. All of those who were left behind were now gathered in the
hall before me. I had not long to wait to learn the purpose of the
meeting. The patroon commanded silence. In a few words he reminded his
followers of the oaths of service they had all taken to him. Then he
explained that Captain William Kidd was about to set out on an
expedition for the welfare of the province.
“My men,” continued the patroon, “a task is expected of you. I cannot
now make known to you all the particulars of your new duty. I shall
entrust my plans to Edward Baine and Harold Bromm. You know and respect
both of these men. You must obey them as if I were there myself to give
orders. Each man shall receive at the outset twenty pounds. The money
has already been sent aboard ship. You must follow yourselves as
secretly as possible before night. At midnight the anchors will be
lifted and by sunrise you will be far from shore.”
He looked about him as if to note the temper of his audience. There was
no dissatisfaction. Most of the men were already tired of the quiet
times since the elections, and welcomed this chance of action. No
question of its propriety seemed to enter their heads. They acted like
machines, ready to come and go as their master sent them.
“Now,” continued the patroon. “In accordance with our general custom we
shall take the oath of service together.
“Edward Baine, stand forth. Do you solemnly swear to remain true to the
brotherhood of the Red Band, to advance its interests with your life, so
help you God?”
“I do, Amen.”
The oath was next administered to Harold Bromm. After that a clause was
inserted binding the men to obey the orders of these two ringleaders.
One after another the members of the band bound themselves to this new
venture. At last there were but three left, myself and two others. I
wondered whether the patroon intended to send me along with the rest on
this mutinous expedition.
“Dick Ramsey, do you solemnly swear—”
The oath was duly sworn to.
“Barnard Lee—”
He likewise assented to the oath.
All eyes turned upon me. The others looked expectant as if they too had
thought of the same question that I had just put to myself. Perhaps even
the patroon did not know what he would do till the moment came. He
looked at me as if in deliberation with himself. There was a long pause,
then I heard my name.
“Henrie St. Vincent, do you solemnly swear to remain true to the
brotherhood of the Red Band, to advance its interest with your life, to
obey Edward Baine and Harold Bromm in all things as they may command, so
help you God?”
“I do not.”
The silence of amazement followed. I could not forbear to smile at the
look on every face. Only the patroon appeared as if he had expected my
answer. He was angry rather than surprised.
“Why not?” he cried petulantly. “Why not, St. Vincent?”
“I do not care to leave Yorke,” I answered. “This duty is not within my
understanding of what I promised when I took service. If you wish it, I
will withdraw from the Red Band, but—”
“Withdraw! Such a thing was never heard of.”
There was a murmur of discontent throughout the room. Some spoke openly
and bade me remember Ronald Guy. Disobedience had been a part of his
offense.
I was standing close to the patroon and spoke to him so that no one else
could hear what I said. “Do you intend to treat me as you treated your—”
I was on the point of saying “your son,” but he cut me short.
“No, no, if you don’t want to go you need not. No one shall go against
his will. Never mind, my men; you will lose a good blade, but I shall
gain one. I really need him here after all. It cost me an effort to make
up my mind to let him go.”
The patroon whispered to someone next him and after that two or three
men left the hall. We were detained but a few moments longer. Then the
men began to say good-by to their master. Only about one in ten of them
lived on the estate. Some of these came to take his hand and even wept
at parting. “You have been a good master. I’ll never forget when the old
woman was sick,” said one. And another, “I’ll do my best for you. I’ve
not forgot when my little boy died.” Truly this master was good to his
own, save only when his malady was upon him.
I was much touched by what I had just witnessed. From the assembly room
I went to my own. I was anxious to read the secret contained in the
second packet which Louis had hidden in the oven. But I was to be
interrupted once again. I had hardly closed the door behind me when I
discovered that I was not alone in the room. A tall figure, completely
robed in a black mantle, stood in one corner. When I closed the door she
stepped forward.
“Mistress Van Volkenberg,” I exclaimed, “what has brought you here?”
It took me several minutes to recover my self-possession. Miriam
meantime dropped her cloak and stood blushing before me. Her voice
trembled with confusion and she could hardly speak.
“Oh, what will you think of me?” she broke out after one or two attempts
to speak. “But I could not help it. Listen to me and let me go. What
have you done? My father has given orders to have you watched. In a few
minutes you will not be able to get away; you must go at once.”
When she bade me go away and leave her there alone, I recalled a former
occasion when I had resolved to protect this girl if need be against her
father.
“Shall I leave you here?” I asked.
“Me? What have I to do with it? Go, go; do not stay; you must, you
must.” She laid hold of my arm and tried to push me towards the door.
“Why do you want me to go?”
She became silent and the bright color came into her cheeks.
“You must go. I want you to save yourself.”
“I cannot go,” I answered.
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
She stepped backward as if frightened at my simple words.
“Mistress Van Volkenberg,” I continued, “I am a plain woer. I do not
know how to tell you what I feel. My heart tells me that I love you, but
how shall I make you know it? Bid me to do something. Prove my love. Do
you care nothing for how I feel?”
She came a step closer. “I am a Catholic.”
“Does not that prove my love? You know what I have had to suffer from
your church.”
“Yes, you have told me a little,” she answered. “But—”
I would have no buts. I caught both her hands in mine and gazed into her
eyes wondering what she would say if she knew who I really was. For a
moment she held away from me. Then I felt her sway gently forward.
“Do you love me, Miriam?”
“Yes.”
For a moment I held her in my arms. Her face lay close upon my shoulder.
I could feel her heart beating quickly, and there was a sweet smell
about her hair like fresh flowers. Then she whispered softly:
“Call me Miriam again.”
“My sweet Miriam.”
“Ah, Henrie—why do you start?”
She lifted her face to mine. I kissed her forehead before I answered.
“I started because you did not call me by my name. My name is Michael Le
Bourse.”
She looked at me with growing wonder in her eyes. “Michael Le Bourse?
Ruth’s brother? He is dead.”
“No, he is not dead. You did not see his body at Marmaduke’s. You were
deceived. He is alive and well, and I am he.”
As she gazed confusedly at me the wonder faded from her face. Then in a
flash she seemed to comprehend it all. She broke from me and stood in
the center of the room, burning with shame and anger.
“If you are Michael Le Bourse, what are you doing here?”
Oh, the sight was pitiful, both for her and for me. She stamped her foot
madly.
“What are you doing here? Are you a spy in my father’s house? You
wretch, I see it now. You came here to avenge your sister. You tricked
me into loving you. I hate you. I thought you were an honest man. The
shame, oh the shame to have touched you. Is this your just religion?
Where is your justice? In lying, in deceit, in being false to women?
All, all to gain your own selfish ends. The dogs in my father’s kennels
would hold better faith than that. Yet you judge others. You say we
Catholics are untrue. God shield us, we are not ashamed to own our
names.”
I tried to interrupt her. She only drew her skirts about her and edged
off as if I were diseased.
“Don’t speak to me. Your poor sister! If she were alive it would break
her heart to hear of this. She used to talk about you. I have heard her
speak so often of your honor. This would break her heart. Stand by and
let me go.”
She moved towards the door, going by the edge of the room, so as to keep
as far away from me as possible.
“Mistress Van Volkenberg,” I said when she was near the threshold,
“there is much justice in what you say.”
“Of course there is much justice in what I say.”
“But you are not right in all. I cannot explain everything now, but let
me tell you my resolution. I am willing to make amends.”
“Amends! You cannot. You are false to perdition.”
“I can confess myself and give myself up to justice.”
“Yes, your justice. Go to your sweet Earl and say, ‘Faith, I’ve been a
naughty boy, forgive me.’ And he will say, ‘Yes.’ I know him. My father
would not stand his evil practice and that is why he left the council.
So your horseback-riding governor is your amends, is it? I see you are a
coward as well as a villain. O God, can such men live and look like
other men?”
“No, mistress, this is not what I intended to do. I intended to go to
your father.”
“You dare not.”
“That will be seen.”
She opened the door and was on the point of going out when she turned
back.
“I believe you dare,” she muttered.
Then she came quickly to my side.
“Do not do it. It will do no good. It will throw him into a passion and
he might—might—oh, fly, fly before it is too late.”
She spoke beseechingly and the anger in her voice was fading like the
twilight.
“But what interest,” I asked, “can you have in a villain and a coward?”
“None, none,” she replied, “but that such a worm should linger in our
house.”
She swept haughtily from the room without so much as a glance behind
her. Indeed I was rightly punished. My ungenerous answer had but
trampled on her sweet good will. When she went out I felt as if all the
light in my life went with her. Bitterly I reproached myself for my
folly—nay, worse than folly. But it was now too late to mend. I could,
however, carry out my resolution. I could prove that I was not a coward.
It was the more easy to do because I had already considered the question
of making myself known to the patroon, be the consequences what they
might. So, in this state of mind, fresh from the sting of her contempt
and full of despair at my own foolishness, I sought the master of the
house.