_COLOURED PLATES_
_Father Redcap found in the Cellar_
_The King and Queen rejoice when their Pets return_
_How the Girls found Mountain Dweller_
_How the Boy shot the White Bear_
_Blind Jack plays his Fiddle at the Assembly Balls_
_Djun's Magic in the House of the Chief_
_Besides the White Rabbit Aurore greatly admired General Murat_
_Aurore sets free the Captive Birds at the Altar of Corambe_
_Discovering the Traitor_
_The Princess of Babylon and the Phoenix_
_The Girl Bathed him every Morning in the Pool_
_Leonardo frightens his Father with the Monster painted on the
Shield_
_FULL-PAGE PLATES_
_Wolfert finds a Stranger at the Inn_
_The Face of the Drowned Buccaneer_
_The Tlingit Chief finds his Wife is ill_
_The Sailors drink the Health of Amazon Snell_
_Rip finds the Dwarfs playing Ninepins_
_Athenodorus confronts the Spectre_
_Maclean and Plunket stop Lord Eglinton's Carriage_
_The Highlanders demand the Captain's Horse for the Prince_
'_I am Strength,' said he, 'and I am going to help you_'
_How the Chief's Death was avenged_
_Aurore rescued by Deschartres from a Watery Grave_
_The Dead Son helps his Parents_
_'Here!' said a Voice_
_How the Stranger on the Unicorn arrived on the Scene_
_Formosante's Drug works_
'_What beautiful birds! I should like to marry one of them!_'
_Catalina rescued by the young Officer_
_Had it not been for the Interference of the Bishop himself, it
would have gone hardly with Catalina_
_THE DROWNED BUCCANEER_
The story of Wolfert Webber was said by Louis Stevenson to be one of the
finest treasure-seeking stories in the world; and as Stevenson was a
very good judge, I am going to tell it to you.
Wolfert's ancestor, Cobus Webber, was one of the original settlers who
came over from Holland and established themselves on the coast of what
is now the State of New York. Like most of his countrymen, Cobus was a
great gardener, and devoted himself especially to cabbages, and it was
agreed on all sides that none so large or so sweet had ever been eaten
by anybody.
Webber's house was built after the Dutch pattern, and was large and
comfortable. Birds built their nests under the eaves and filled the air
with their singing, and a button-wood tree, which was nothing but a
sapling when Cobus planted his first cabbage, had become a monster
overshadowing half the garden in the days of his descendant Wolfert
early in the eighteenth century.
The button-wood tree was not the only thing that had grown during those
years. The city known at first as 'New Amsterdam,' and later as 'New
York,' had grown also, and surrounded the house of the Webbers. But if
the family could no longer look from the windows at the beautiful woods
and rivers of the countryside, as their forefathers had done, there was
no reason to drive a cart about from one village to another to see who
wanted cabbages, for now the housewives came to Wolfert to choose their
own, which saved a great deal of trouble.
Yet, though Wolfert sold all the cabbages he could raise, he did not
become rich as fast as he wished, and at length he began to wonder if he
was becoming rich at all. Food was dearer than when he was a boy, and
other people besides himself had taken to cabbage-growing. His daughter
was nearly a woman, and would want a portion if she married. Was there
no way by which he could make the money that would be so badly needed by
and bye?
* * * * *
Thinking of those things, Wolfert walked out one blustering Saturday
afternoon in the autumn to a country inn near the sea, much frequented
by the Dutchmen who lived within reach. The usual guests were gathered
round the hearth, and in a great leather armchair sat Ramm Rapelye, a
wealthy and important person, and the first white child born in the
State. Wolfert drew up a chair and stared moodily into the fire till he
was startled by a remark of the landlord's, which seemed to chime in
exactly with his thoughts.
'This will be a rough night for the money-diggers,' said he.
'What! are they at their works again?' asked a one-eyed English captain.
'Ay, indeed,' answered the landlord; 'they have had great luck of late.
They say a great pot of gold has been dug up just behind Stuyvesant's
orchard. It must have been buried there in time of war by old
Stuyvesant, the governor.'
'Yes,' said Peechy Prauw, another of the group. 'Money has been dug up
all over the island from time to time. The lucky man has always dreamt
of the treasure three times beforehand, and, what is more wonderful
still, nobody has ever found it who does not come from the old Dutch
settlers--a sure proof that it was a Dutchman that buried it.'
* * * * *
That evening Wolfert went home feeling as if he was walking on air. The
soil of the place must be full of gold, and how strange it was that so
little of it should yet be upturned! He was so excited that he never
listened to a word his wife said, and went to bed with his mind full of
the talk he had heard.
His dreams carried on his last waking thoughts. He was digging in his
garden, and every spadeful of mould that he threw up laid bare handfuls
of golden coins or sparkling stones. Sometimes he even lighted on bags
of money or heavy treasure-chests.
When he woke, his one wish was to know if his dream would be repeated
the next two nights, for that, according to Peechy Prauw, was needful
before you could expect to discover the treasure.
On the third morning he jumped up almost mad with delight, for he had
had the three dreams, and never doubted that he could become rich merely
by stretching out his hand. But even so, great caution was necessary, or
other people might suspect and rob him of his wealth before he had time
to place it in safety. So as soon as he thought his wife and daughter
were sound asleep, he got softly out of bed and, taking his spade and a
pickaxe, began to dig in the part of the garden furthest from the road.
The cabbages he left lying about, not thinking it was worth while for
such a rich man to trouble about them.
Of course, his wife and daughter quickly perceived what he was doing,
but he would explain nothing, and grew so cross when they ventured to
put him a question that they feared he was going out of his mind.
Then the frosts began and the ground for many weeks was too hard to dig.
All day long he sat gazing into the fire and dreaming dreams, and his
wife saw their savings slowly dwindling.
At last spring came--surely the winter had never before been so
long!--and Wolfert went gaily back to his digging; but not so much as a
silver penny rewarded his labours. As the months passed by his energy
became feverish, and his body thinner and thinner. His friends, one by
one, ceased to come to his house, and at length his only visitor was a
young man--Dick Waldron by name--whom he had rejected as a husband for
his daughter on account of his poverty.
On a Saturday afternoon Wolfert left the house not knowing or caring
where he was going, when suddenly he found himself close to the old inn
by the sea-shore. It was a year since he had entered it, and several of
the usual customers were now present, though in the great armchair once
occupied by Ramm Rapelye a stranger was seated. He was an odd and
forbidding-looking person, short, bow-legged, and very strong, with a
scar across his face; while his clothes were such a jumble of curious
garments that they might have been picked out of dust-heaps at various
times. Wolfert did not know what to make of him, and turned to inquire
of Peechy Prauw, who took him into a corner of the large hall and
explained how the man came there. As to who he was, no one knew; but one
night a great shouting had been heard from the water-side, and when the
landlord went down with his negro servant he found the stranger seated
on a huge oak sea-chest. No ship was in sight, nor boat of any kind.
With great difficulty his chest was moved to the inn and put in the
small room which he had taken, and there he had remained ever since,
paying his bill every night and spending all day at the window, watching
with his telescope the ships that went by. And if anyone had been there
to notice, they would have seen that it was the little vessels and not
the big ones that he examined most attentively.
By and bye, however, there was a change in the stranger's habits. He
spent less time in his room and more downstairs with the rest of the
company, telling them wonderful stories of the pirates in the Spanish
Main. Indeed, so well did he describe the adventures that his listeners
were not slow in guessing that he had himself taken a chief part in
them.
One evening the talk happened to turn on the famous Captain Kidd, most
celebrated of buccaneers. The Englishman was relating, as he often did,
all the traditions belonging to this hero, and the stranger who liked no
one to speak but himself, could hardly conceal his impatience. At length
the Englishman made some allusion to a voyage of Kidd's up the Hudson
river in order to bury his plunder in a secret place, and at these words
the stranger could contain himself no longer.
'Kidd up the Hudson?' he exclaimed; 'Kidd was _never_ up the Hudson.'
[Illustration: WOLFERT FINDS A STRANGER AT THE INN]
'I tell you he _was_,' cried the other; 'and they say he buried a
quantity of treasure in the little flat called the Devil's Hammer that
runs out into the river.'
'It is a lie,' returned the stranger; 'Kidd was _never_ up the Hudson!
What the plague do _you_ know of him and his haunts?'
'What do _I_ know?' echoed the Englishman. 'Why, I was in London at the
time of his trouble and saw him hanged.'
'Then, sir, let me tell you that you saw as pretty a fellow hanged as
ever trod shoe-leather, and there was many a landlubber looking on that
had better have swung in his stead.'
Here Peechy Prauw struck in, thinking the discussion had gone far
enough.
'The gentleman is quite right,' said he; 'Kidd never did bury money up
the Hudson, nor in any of these parts. It was Bradish and some of his
buccaneers who buried money round here, though no one quite knew where:
Long Island, it was said, or Turtle Bay, or in the rocks about Hellgate.
I remember an adventure of old Sam, the negro fisherman, when he was a
young man, which sounded as if it might have to do with the buccaneers.
It was on a dark night many years ago, when Black Sam was returning from
fishing in Hellgate--' but Peechy got no further, for at this point the
stranger broke in:
'Hark'ee, neighbour,' he cried; 'you'd better let the buccaneers and
their money alone,' and with that the man rose from his seat and walked
up to his room, leaving dead silence behind him. The spell was broken by
a peal of thunder, and Peechy was begged to go on with his story, and
this was it:--
* * * * *
Fifty years before, Black Sam had a little hut so far down among the
rocks of the Sound that it seemed as if every high tide must wash it
away. He was a hard-working young man, as active as a cat, and was a
labourer at a farm on the island. In the summer evenings, when his work
was done, he would hasten down to the shore and remove his light boat
and go out to fish, and there was not a corner of the Sound that he did
not know, from the Hen and Chickens to the Hog's Back, from the Hog's
Back to the Pot, and from the Pot to the Frying Pan.
On this particular evening Sam had tried in turn all these
fishing-grounds, and was so eager to fill his basket that he never
noticed that the tide was ebbing fast, and that he might be cast by the
currents on to some of the sharp rocks. When at length he looked up and
saw where he was, he lost no time in steering his skiff to the point of
Blackwell's Island. Here he cast anchor, and waited patiently till the
tide should flow again and he could get back safely. But as the night
drew on, a great storm blew up and the lightning played over the shore.
So before it grew too dark, Sam quickly changed his position and found
complete shelter under a jutting rock on Manhattan Island, where a tree
which had rooted itself in a cleft spread its thick branches over the
sea.
'I shan't get wet, anyhow,' thought Sam, who did not like rain, and,
making his boat fast, he laid himself flat in the bottom and went to
sleep.
When he awoke the storm had passed, and all that remained of it was a
pale flash of lightning now and then. By the light of these flashes--for
there was no moon--Sam was able to see how far the tide had advanced,
and judged it must be near midnight. He was just about to loose the
moorings of his skiff, as it was now safe to venture out to sea, when a
glimmer on the water made him pause. What could it be? Not lightning
certainly, but whatever it was, it was rapidly approaching him, and soon
he perceived a boat gliding along in the shadow, with a lantern at the
prow. Sam instantly crouched still farther into the shadow, and held his
breath as a boat passed by, and pulled up in a small cave just beyond.
Then a man jumped on shore, and, taking the lantern, examined all the
rocks.
'I've got it!' he exclaimed to the rest. 'Here is the iron ring,' and,
returning to the boat, he and the five others proceeded to lift out
something very heavy, and staggered with it a little distance, when they
paused to take breath. By the light of the lantern which one of them
held on high, Sam perceived that five wore red woollen caps, while the
man who had found the iron ring had on a three-cornered hat. All were
armed with pistols, knives, and cutlasses, and some carried, besides,
spades and pickaxes.
Slowly they climbed upwards towards a clump of thick bushes, and Sam
silently followed them and scaled a rock which overlooked the path. At a
sign from their leader they stopped, while he bent forward with the
lantern, and seemed to be searching for something in the bushes.
'Bring the spades,' he said at last, and two men joined him and set to
work on a piece of open ground.
'We must dig deep, so that we shall run no risks,' remarked one of the
men, and Sam shivered, for he made sure that he saw before him a gang of
murderers about to bury their victim. In his fright he had started, and
the branches of the tree to which he was clinging rustled loudly.
'What's that?' cried the leader. 'There's someone watching us,' and the
lantern was held up in the direction of the sound and Sam heard the cock
of a pistol. Luckily his black face did not show in the surrounding
dark, and the man lowered the lantern.
'It was only some beast or other,' he said, 'and surely you are not
going to fire a pistol and alarm the country?'
So the pistol was uncocked and the digging resumed, while the rest of
the party bore their burden slowly up the bank. It was not until they
were out of sight that Sam ventured to move as much as an eyelid; but
great as his fear was, his curiosity was greater still, and instead of
creeping back to his boat and returning home, he resolved to remain a
little longer.
The sound of spades could now be heard, and as the men would all be busy
digging the grave, Sam thought he might venture a little nearer.
Guided by the noise of the strokes he crawled upwards, till only a steep
rock divided him from the diggers. As silently as before he raised
himself to the top, feeling every ledge with his toes before he put his
feet on it, lest he should dislodge a loose stone which might betray
him. Then he peered over the edge and saw that the men were immediately
below him--and far closer than he had any idea of. Indeed, they were so
near that it seemed as if it were safer to keep his head where it was
than to withdraw it.
By this time the turf was carefully being replaced over the grave, and
dry leaves scattered above it.
'I defy anybody to find it out!' cried the leader at last, and Sam,
forgetting everything, except his horror of their cruelty, exclaimed:
'The murderers!' but he did not know he had spoken aloud till he beheld
the eyes of the whole gang fixed upon him.
'Down with him,' shouted they; and Sam waited for no more, but the next
instant was flying for his life. Now he was crashing through
undergrowth, now he was rolling down banks, now he was scaling rocks
like a mountain goat; but when at length he came to the ridge at the
back, where the river ran into the sea, one of the pirates was close
behind him.
The chase appeared to be over; a steep wall of rock lay between Sam and
safety, and in fancy he already heard the whiz of a bullet. At this
moment he noticed a tough creeper climbing up the rock, and, seizing it
with both hands, managed to swing himself up the smooth surface. On the
summit he paused for an instant to take breath, and in the light of the
dawn he was clearly visible to the pirate below. _This_ time the whiz of
the bullet was a reality, and it passed by his ear. In a flash he saw
his chance of deceiving his pursuers and, uttering a loud yell, he threw
himself on the ground and kicked a large stone lying on the edge into
the river.
'We've done for him now I _think_,' remarked the leader, as his
companions came panting up. 'He'll tell no tales; but we must go back
and collect our booty, so that it shan't tell tales either,' and when
their footsteps died away Sam clambered down from the rock and made his
way to the skiff, which he pushed off into the current, for he did not
dare to use the oars till he had gone some distance. In his fright he
forgot all about the whirlpools of Pot and Frying Pan, or the dangers of
the group of rocks right in the middle of Hellgate, known as the Hen and
Chickens. Somehow or other he got safely home, and hid himself snugly
for the rest of the day in the farmhouse where he worked.
This was the story told by Peechy Prauw, which had been listened to in
dead silence by the men round the fire.
'Is that all?' asked one of them when Peechy stopped.
'All that belongs to the story,' answered he.
'And did Sam never find out what they buried?' inquired Wolfert.
'Not that I know of,' replied Peechy; 'he was kept pretty hard at work
after that, and, to tell the truth, I don't think he had any fancy for
another meeting with those gentlemen. Besides, places look so different
by daylight that I doubt if he could have found the spot where they had
dug the grave. And after all, what is the use of troubling about a dead
body, if you cannot hang the murderers?'
'But _was_ it a dead body that was buried?' said Wolfert.
'To be sure,' cried Peechy. 'Why, it haunts the place to this day!'
'Haunts!' repeated some of the men, drawing their chairs nearer
together.
'Ay, haunts,' said Peechy again. 'Have none of you heard of Father
Redcap that haunts the old farmhouse in the woods near Hellgate?'
'Yes,' replied one; 'I've heard some talk of that, but I always took it
for an old wives' tale.'
'Old wives' tale or not,' answered Peechy, 'it stands not far from that
very spot--and a lonely one it is, and nobody has ever been known to
live in it. Lights are seen from time to time about the wood at night,
and some say an old man in a red cap appears at the windows and that he
is the ghost of the man who was buried in the bushes. Once--so my mother
told me when I was a child--three soldiers took shelter there, and when
daylight came they searched the house through from top to bottom and
found old Father Red Cap in the cellar outside on a cider-barrel, with a
jug in one hand and a goblet in the other. He offered them a drink, but
just as one of the soldiers held out his hand for the goblet, a flash of
lightning blinded them all three for several minutes, and when they
could see again, Red Cap had vanished, and nothing but the cider-barrel
remained.'
'That's all nonsense!' exclaimed the Englishman.
'Well, I don't know that I don't agree with you,' answered Peechy; 'but
everybody knows there is something queer about the house. Still, as to
that story of Black Sam's, I believe it just as well as if it had
happened to myself.'
* * * * *
In the silence that followed this discussion, the roar of the storm
might plainly be heard, and the thunder grew louder and louder every
moment. It was accompanied by the sound of guns coming up from the sea
and by a loud shout, yet it was strange that, though the whole strait
was constantly lit up by lightning, not a creature was to be seen.
Suddenly another noise was added to the rest. The window of the room
above was thrown up, and the voice of the stranger was heard answering
the shout from the sea. After a few words uttered in a language unknown
to anyone present, there was a great commotion overhead, as if someone
were dragging heavy furniture about. The negro servant was next called
upstairs, and soon he appeared holding one handle of the great
sea-chest, while the stranger clung to the other.
'What!' cried the landlord, stepping forward in surprise, and raising
his lantern. 'Are you going to sea in such a storm?'
'Storm!' repeated the stranger. 'Do you call this sputter of weather a
storm? Don't preach about storms to a man whose life has been spent
amongst whirlwinds and tornadoes,' and as he spoke, the voice from the
water rang out, calling impatiently.
* * * * *
'Put out the light,' it said. 'No one wants lights here,' and the
stranger turned instantly and ordered the bystanders who had followed
from curiosity, back to the inn.
But although they retired to a little distance, under the shadow of some
rocks, they had no intention of going any further. By help of the
lightning they soon discovered a boat filled with men, heading up and
down under a rocky point close by, and kept in position with great
difficulty by a boat-hook, for just there the current was strong. One
of the crew reached forward to seize a handle of the stranger's heavy
sea-chest and assist the owner to place it on board. But his movement
caused the boat to drift into the current, the chest slipped from the
gunwale and fell into the sea, dragging the stranger with it, and in
that pitch darkness and amidst those huge waves, no aid was possible.
One flash, indeed, showed for an instant a pair of outstretched hands;
but when the next one came, nothing was to be seen or heard but the
roaring waters.
[Illustration: FATHER REDCAP FOUND IN THE CELLAR]
* * * * *
The storm passed at midnight, the men were able to return to their
homes, casting, as they went along, fearful glances towards the sea. But
the events of the evening, and the tales he had listened to, made a deep
impression on the mind of Wolfert, and he wondered afresh if he were not
the person destined to find the hidden treasure of Black Sam's
adventure. It was no dead body, he felt sure, that the pirates had
buried on the island, but gold and, perhaps, jewels; and the next
morning he lost no time in going over to the place and making cautious
inquiries of the people who lived nearest to it.
'Oh! yes,' he was told, 'he had heard quite right. Black Sam's story had
filtered out somehow, and many were the visits which had been paid to
the wood by experienced money-diggers, though never once had they met
with success. And more, it had been remarked that for ever after, the
diggers had in every case been dogged by ill-luck.' (This, thought
Wolfert to himself, was because they had neglected some of the proper
ceremonies necessary to be performed by every hunter after treasure.)
'Why, the very last man who had dug there,' went on the speakers, 'had
worked the whole night, in spite of two handfuls of earth being thrown
in for one which he threw out. However, he persevered and managed to
uncover an iron chest when, with a roar that might have been heard
across the Sound, a crowd of strange figures sprang out of the hole and
dealt him such blows that he was fain to betake himself to his boat as
fast as his legs could carry him. This story the man told on his
death-bed, so no doubt it was true.'
Now every tale of the sort only went to prove to Wolfert that Sam had
actually seen the pirates burying the treasure, and he was quite
determined to make an effort to obtain it for himself. The first thing
to be done was to get Sam to serve as his guide, for many years had
passed since his adventure, and the trees and bushes would have grown
thickly about the hole.
The negro was getting old by this time, but he perfectly recollected all
that had happened, though _his_ tale was not quite the same as the one
told by Peechy Prauw. But, he was an active man yet, and readily agreed
to go with Wolfert for a couple of dollars. As to being afraid of ghosts
or pirates, Sam had long forgotten that he had feared either.
* * * * *
This time the two made their expedition mostly on foot, and after
walking five or six miles they reached a wood which covered the eastern
part of the island. Here they struck into a deep dark lane overgrown
with brambles and overshadowed by creepers, showing that it was seldom
indeed that anybody went that way. The lane ended at the shore of the
Sound, and just there were traces of a gap surrounded by trees that had
become tall since the days when Sam last saw them. Near by stood the
ruins of a house--hardly more than a heap of stones, which Wolfert
guessed to be the one in Peechy Prauw's story.
It was getting late, and there was something in the loneliness and
desolation of the place which caused even Wolfert to feel uncomfortable.
Not that he was specially brave, but his soul was so possessed with the
idea of money-getting--or, rather, money-finding--that he had no
thoughts to spare for other matters. He clung to Sam closely, scrambling
along the edges of rocks which overhung the sea, till they came to a
small cave. Then Sam paused and looked round; next he pointed to a large
iron ring fastened to a sort of table-rock.
Wolfert's eyes followed him, and glistened brightly and greedily. This
was the ring of Peechy Prauw's tale, and when the negro stooped to
examine the rock more carefully, Wolfert fell on his knees beside him
and was able to make out just above the ring three little crosses cut in
the stone.
Starting from this point, Sam tried to remember the exact path that the
pirates had taken, and after losing his way two or three times came to
the ridge of rock from which he had overlooked the diggers. On the face
of it also were cut three crosses, but if you had not known where to
look you would never have found them, for they were nearly filled up
with moss. It was plain that the diggers had left this mark for their
guidance, but what was not so plain was where they had buried their
treasure, for fifty years change many things. Sam fixed first on one
spot and then on another--it must have been under that mulberry tree, he
declared. Or stay, was it not beside that big white stone, or beneath
that small green knoll? At length Wolfert saw that Sam could be certain
of nothing, and as he had brought neither spade nor pickaxe nor lantern
with him, decided that he had better content himself with taking notes
of the place, and return to dig some other day.
* * * * *
On their way back Wolfert's fancy began to play him strange tricks, as
it has a way of doing when people are excited or very tired. He seemed
to behold pirates hanging from every tree, and the fall of a nut or the
rustling of a leaf caused him to jump and to feel for his companion. As
they approached the garden of the ruined house, they saw a figure
advancing along a mossy path with a heavy burden on his shoulders. On
his head was a red cap, and he passed on slowly until he stopped at the
door of what looked to be a burying-vault. Then he turned and shook his
fist at them, and as Wolfert saw his face he recognised with horror the
drowned buccaneer.
Wolfert did not need to look twice, but rushed away helter-skelter with
Sam behind him, running nearly as fast as he had done fifty years
before. Every stone they stumbled over they imagined to be the pirate's
foot stretched out to trip them up; every bramble that caught them to be
his hands grasping at their clothes. They only breathed fully when
Wolfert's home was in sight.
It was several days before he recovered from the shock and the run
combined, and all that time he behaved in such a strange manner that his
wife and daughter were convinced that he was rapidly going mad. He would
sit for hours together staring before him, and if a question was put to
him, seldom gave a sensible answer. He scarcely ate any food, and if he
_did_ fall asleep, he talked about money-bags, and flung the blankets
right and left, imagining that he was digging the earth out of the hole.
In this extremity the poor woman felt that the matter was beyond her
skill, and she hastened to consult a German doctor famous for his
learning. But the result was very different from what she had expected.
At the doctor's first interview with Wolfert he questioned the patient
closely as to all that he had seen and heard of the treasure, and at
length told him that if he was ever to find it, it was necessary to
proceed with the utmost caution and to observe certain ceremonies.
'You can never dig for money except at night,' ended the doctor, 'and
then you must have the help of a divining rod. As I have some experience
in these matters, you had better let me join in the search. If you agree
to this, you can leave all preparations to me. In three days everything
will be ready.'
Wolfert was delighted at this offer. Now, he thought, he was sure of
success, and though he neglected his work as much as ever, he was so
much brighter and happier than before that his wife congratulated
herself on her wisdom in sending him to the doctor.
* * * * *
When the appointed night arrived Wolfert bade his women-kind go to bed
and not to feel frightened if he should be out till daylight; and
dressed in his wife's long, red cloak, with his wide felt hat tied down
by his daughter's handkerchief, he set gaily out on his adventure.
The doctor was awaiting him, with a thick book studded with clasps under
his arm, a basket of dried herbs and drugs in one hand, and the
divining rod in the other. It was barely ten o'clock, but the whole
village was fast asleep, and nothing was to be heard save the sound of
their own footsteps. Yet, now and then it seemed to Wolfert that a third
step mingled with theirs, and as he glanced round he fancied he saw a
figure moving after them, keeping always in the shadow but stopping when
they stopped, and proceeding when they proceeded.
Sam was ready for them and had put the spades and pickaxes in the bottom
of his boat, together with a dark lantern. The tide was in their favour
running fast up the Sound, so that oars were hardly needed. Very shortly
they were passing the little inn where these strange adventures had
begun; it was dark and still now, yet Wolfert thought he saw a boat
lurking in the very place where he had beheld it on the night of the
storm, but the shadow of the rocks lay so far over the water that he
could be sure of nothing. Still, in a few minutes he was distinctly
aware of the noise of oars, apparently coming from a long way off, and
though both his companions were silent, it was evident from the stronger
strokes instantly pulled by Sam that he had heard it also. In half an
hour the negro shot his skiff into the little cave, and made it fast to
the iron ring.
Even with the help of the notes he had taken, it was some time before
Wolfert managed to hit on the exact spot where the treasure had been
buried. After losing their way twice or thrice they reached the ledge of
rock with the crosses on it, and at a sign from Wolfert the doctor
produced the divining rod. This was a forked twig, and each of the forks
was grasped in his hand, while the stem pointed straight upwards. The
doctor held it at a certain distance above the ground, and frequently
changed his position, and Wolfert kept the light of the lantern full on
the twig, but it never stirred. Their hopes and their patience were
nearly exhausted when the rod began slowly to turn, and went on turning
until the stem pointed straight to the earth.
'The treasure lies here,' said the doctor.
'Shall I dig?' asked Sam.
'No! no! not yet. And do not speak, whatever you see me do,' and the
doctor drew a circle round them and made a fire of dry branches and dead
leaves. On this he threw the herbs and drugs he had brought with him,
which created a thick smoke, and finished by reading some sentences out
of the clasped book. His companions, nearly choked and blinded by the
dense vapour, understood nothing of what was going on, and it is quite
possible that there was not anything to understand, but the doctor
thought that these ceremonies were necessary to the right beginning of
any important adventure. At last he shut the book.
'You can dig now,' he said to Sam.
So the negro struck his pickaxe into the soil, which gave signs of not
having been disturbed for many a long day. He very soon came to a bed of
sand and gravel, and had just thrust his spade into it, when a cry came
from Wolfert.
'What is that?' he whispered. 'I fancied I heard a trampling among the
dry leaves and a rustling through the bushes.' Sam paused, and for a
moment there was no sound to break the stillness. Then a bat flitted by,
and a bird flew above the flames of the fire.
Sam continued to dig, till at length his spade struck upon something
that gave out a hollow ring. He struck a second time, and turned to his
companions.
'It is a chest,' he cried.
'And full of gold, I'll warrant,' exclaimed Wolfert, raising his eyes to
the doctor, who stood behind him. But beyond the doctor who was that? By
the dying light of the lantern, peering over the rock, was the face of
the drowned buccaneer.
With a shriek of terror he let fall the lantern, which fizzled out. His
companions looked up, and, seeing what he saw, were seized with a fear
as great as his. The negro leaped out of the hole, the doctor dropped
his book and basket, and they all fled in different directions, thinking
that a legion of hobgoblins were after them. Wolfert made a dash for the
water-side and the boat, but, swiftly as he ran, someone behind him ran
more swiftly still. He gave himself up for lost, when a hand clutched at
his cloak; then suddenly a third person seemed to gain on them, and
to attack his pursuer. Pistol shots were fired in the fierceness of the
fight, the combatants fell, and rolled on the ground together.
[Illustration: THE FACE OF THE DROWNED BUCCANEER]
Wolfert would thankfully have disappeared during the struggle, but a
precipice lay at his feet, and in the pitch darkness he knew not where
he could turn in safety. So he crouched low under a clump of bushes and
waited.
Now the two men were standing again and had each other by the waist,
straining and dragging and pulling towards the brink of the precipice.
This much Wolfert could guess from the panting sounds that reached him,
and at last a gasp of relief smote upon his ears followed
instantaneously by a shriek and then a plunge.
One of them had gone, but what about the other? Was he friend or foe?
The question was soon answered, for climbing over a group of rocks which
rose against the sky was the buccaneer. Yes; he was sure of it.
All his terrors revived at the sight, and he had much ado to keep his
teeth from chattering. Yet, even if his legs would carry him, where
could he go? A precipice was on one side of him and a murderer on the
other. But as the pirate drew a few steps nearer, Wolfert's fears were
lashed into frenzy, and he cast himself over the edge of the cliff, his
feet casting about for a ledge to rest on. Then his cloak got caught in
a thorn tree and he felt himself hanging in the air, half-choking.
Luckily the string broke and he dropped down, rolling from bank to bank
till he lost consciousness.
It was long before he came to himself. When he did, he was lying at the
bottom of a boat, with the morning sun shining upon him.
'Lie still,' said a voice, and with a leap of the heart he knew it to be
that of Dick Waldron, his daughter's sweetheart.
Dame Webber, not trusting her husband in the strange condition he had
been in for months, had begged the young man to follow him, and though
Dick had started too late to overtake the party, he had arrived in time
to save Wolfert from his enemy.
The story of the midnight adventure soon spread through the town, and
many were the citizens who went out to hunt for the treasure. Nothing,
however, was found by any of the seekers; and whether any treasure had
been buried there at all, no one could tell, any more than they knew who
the strange buccaneer was, and if he had been drowned or not. Only one
thing was curious about the whole affair, and that was the presence in
the Sound at that very time of a brig looking like a privateer which,
after hanging about for several days, was seen standing out to sea the
morning after the search of the money-diggers.
Yet, though Wolfert missed one fortune, he found another, for the
citizens of Manhattan desired to cut a street right through his garden,
and offered to buy the ground for a large sum. So he grew to be a rich
man after all, and might be seen any day driving about his native town
in a large yellow carriage drawn by two big black Flanders mares.
_THE PERPLEXITY OF ZADIG_
On the banks of the river Euphrates there once lived a man called Zadig,
who spent all his days watching the animals he saw about him and in
learning their ways, and in studying the plants that grew near his hut.
And the more he knew of them, the more he was struck with the
differences he discovered even in the beasts or flowers which he thought
when he first saw them were exactly alike.
One morning as he was walking through a little wood there came running
towards him an officer of the queen's household, followed by several of
her attendants. Zadig noticed that one and all seemed in the greatest
anxiety and glanced from side to side with wild eyes as if they had lost
something they held to be very precious, and hoped against hope that it
might be lurking in some quite impossible place.
On catching sight of Zadig, the first of the band stopped suddenly.
'Young man,' he said, panting for breath, 'have you seen the queen's pet
dog?'
'It is a tiny spaniel, is it not?' answered Zadig, 'which limps on the
left fore-paw, and has very long ears?'
'Ah then, you have seen it!' exclaimed the steward joyfully, thinking
that his search was at an end and his head was safe, for he knew of many
men who had lost theirs for less reason.
'No,' replied Zadig, 'I have never seen it. Indeed, I did not so much as
know that the queen had a dog.'
At these words the faces of the whole band fell, and with sighs of
disappointment they hurried on twice as fast as before, to make up for
lost time.
Strange to say, it had happened that the finest horse in the king's
stable had broken away from its groom and galloped off no one knew
where, over the boundless plains of Babylon. The chief huntsman and all
the other officials pursued it with the same eagerness that the officers
of the household had displayed in running after the queen's dog and,
like them, met with Zadig who was lying on the ground watching the
movements of some ants.
'Has the king's favourite horse passed by here?' inquired the great
huntsman, drawing rein.
'You mean a wonderful galloper fifteen hands high, shod with very small
shoes, and with a tail three feet and a half long? The ornaments of his
bit are of gold and he is shod with silver?'
'Yes, yes, that is the runaway,' cried the chief huntsman; 'which way
did he go?'
'The horse? But I have not seen him,' answered Zadig, 'and I never even
heard of him before.'
* * * * *
Now Zadig had described both the horse and the dog so exactly that both
the steward and the chief huntsman did not doubt for a moment that they
had been stolen by him.
The chief huntsman said no more, but ordered his men to seize the thief
and to bring him before the supreme court, where he was condemned to be
flogged and to pass the rest of his life in exile. Scarcely, however,
had the sentence been passed than the horse and dog were discovered and
brought back to their master and mistress, who welcomed them with
transports of delight. But as no one would have respected the judges any
longer if they had once admitted that they had been altogether mistaken,
they informed Zadig that, although he was to be spared the flogging and
would not be banished from the country, he must pay four hundred ounces
of gold for having declared he had _not_ seen what he plainly _had_
seen.
With some difficulty Zadig raised the money, and when he had paid it
into court, he asked permission to say a few words of explanation.
'Moons of justice and mirrors of truth,' he began. 'I swear to you by
the powers of earth and of air that never have I beheld the dog of the
queen nor the horse of the king. And if this august assembly will deign
to listen to me for a moment, I will inform them exactly what happened.
Before I met with the officers of the queen's household I had noticed on
the sand the marks of an animal's paws, which I instantly recognised to
be those of a small dog; and as the marks were invariably fainter on one
side than on the three others, it was easy to guess that the dog limped
on one paw. Besides this, the sand on each side of the front paw-marks
was ruffled on the surface, showing that the ears were very long and
touched the ground.
[Illustration: The King & Queen rejoice when their pets return.]
'As to the horse, I had perceived along the road the traces of shoes,
always at equal distances, which proved to me that the animal was a
perfect galloper. I then detected on closer examination, that though the
road was only seven feet wide, the dust on the trees both on the right
hand and on the left had been swept to a height of three and a half
feet, and from that I concluded the horse's tail, which had switched off
the dust, must be three and a half feet long. Next, five feet from the
ground I noticed that twig and leaves had been torn off the trees, so
evidently he was fifteen hands high. As to the ornaments on his bit, he
had scraped one of them against a rock on turning a corner too sharply,
and some traces of gold remained on it, while the light marks left on
the soil showed that his shoes were not of iron but of a less heavy
metal, which could only be silver.'
Great was the amazement of the judges and of everybody else at the
perception and reasoning of Zadig. At court, no one talked of anything
else; and though many of the wise men declared that Zadig should be
burnt as a wizard, the king commanded that the four hundred ounces of
gold, which he had paid as a fine, should be restored to him. In
obedience to this order, the clerk of the court and the ushers came in
state to Zadig's hut, bringing with them the four hundred ounces; but,
when they arrived, they told Zadig that three hundred and ninety-eight
of them were due for law expenses, so he was not much better off than
before.
Zadig said nothing, but let them keep the money. He had learned how
dangerous it is to be wiser than your neighbours, and resolved never
again to give any information to anybody, or to say what he had seen.
He had very speedily a chance of putting this determination into
practice. A prisoner of state escaped from the great gaol of Babylon,
and in his flight happened to pass beneath the window of Zadig's hut.
Not long after, the warders, of the gaol discovered which way he had
gone, and cross-questioned Zadig closely. Zadig, warned by experience,
kept silence; but notwithstanding, it was proved--or at least, they said
so--that Zadig had been looking out of the window when the man went by,
and for this crime he was sentenced by the judges to pay five hundred
ounces of gold.
'Good gracious!' he murmured to himself as, according to the custom of
Babylon, he thanked the court for its indulgence. 'What is one to do? It
is dangerous to stand at your own window, or to be in a wood which the
king's horse and the queen's dog have passed through. How hard it is to
live happily in this life!'
_THE RETURN OF THE DEAD WIFE_
Once upon a time there lived in Alaska a chief of the Tlingit tribe who
had one son. When the boy grew to be a man, he saw a girl who seemed to
him prettier and cleverer than any other girl of the tribe, and his
heart went out to her, and he told his father. Then the chief spoke to
the father and the mother of the girl, and they agreed to give her to
the young man for a wife. So the two were married, and for a few months
all went well with them and they were very happy.
But one day the husband came home from hunting and found his wife
sitting crouched over the fire--her eyes dull and her head heavy.
'You are ill,' he said, 'I will go for the shaman,' but the girl
answered:
'No, not now. I will sleep, and in the morning the pains will have gone
from me.'
But in the morning she was dead, and the young man grieved bitterly and
would eat nothing, and he lay awake all that night thinking of his wife,
and the next night also.
'Perhaps if I went out into the forest and walked till I was tired, I
might sleep and forget my pain,' thought he. But, after all, he could
not bear to leave the house while his dead wife was in it, so he waited
till her body was taken away that evening for burial. Then, very early
next morning, he put on his leggings and set off into the forest and
walked through that day and the following night. Sunrise on the second
morning found him in a wide valley covered with thick trees. Before him
stretched a plain which had once been full of water, but it was now
dried up.
He paused for a moment and looked about him, and as he looked he seemed
to hear voices speaking a long way off. But he could see nobody, and
walked on again till he beheld a light shining through the branches of
the trees and noticed a flat stone on the edge of a lake. Here the road
stopped; for it was the death road along which he had come, though he
did not know it.
The lake was narrow, and on the other side were houses and people going
in and out of them.
'Come over and fetch me,' he shouted, but nobody heard him, though he
cried till he was hoarse.
'It is very odd that nobody hears me,' whispered the youth after he had
shouted for some time longer; and at that minute a person standing at
the door of one of the houses across the lake cried out:
'Someone is shouting'; for they could hear him when he whispered, but
not when he made a great noise.
'It is somebody who has come from dreamland,' continued the voice. 'Let
a canoe go and bring him over.' So a canoe shot out from the shore, and
the young man got into it and was paddled across, and as soon as he
stepped out he saw his dead wife.
Joy rushed into his heart at the sight of her; her eyes were red as
though she had been crying; and he held out his hands. As he did so the
people in the house said to him:
'You must have come from far; sit down, and we will give you food,' and
they spread food before him, at which he felt glad, for he was hungry.
'Don't eat that,' whispered his wife, 'if you do, you will never get
back again'; and he listened to her and did not eat it.
Then his wife said again:
'It is not good for you to stay here. Let us depart at once,' and they
hastened to the edge of the water and got into the canoe, which is
called the Ghost's Canoe, and is the only one on the lake. They were
soon across and they landed at the flat stone where the young man had
stood when he was shouting, and the name of that stone is the Ghost's
Rock. Down they went along the road that he had come, and on the second
night they reached the youth's house.
[Illustration: THE TLINGIT CHIEF FINDS HIS WIFE IS ILL.]
'Stay here,' he said, 'and I will go in and tell my father.' So he
entered and said to his father:
'I have brought my wife back.'
'Well, why don't you bring her in?' asked the chief, and he took a fur
robe and laid it on top of a mat for her to sit on. After that the young
man led his wife into the house, but the people inside could not see her
enter, but only her husband; yet when he came quite close, they noticed
a deep shadow behind him. The young man bade his wife sit down on the
mat they had prepared for her, and a robe of marten skins was placed
over her shoulders, and it hung upon her as if she had been a real woman
and not a ghost. Then they put food before her, and, as she ate, they
beheld her arms, and the spoon moving up and down. But the shadow of her
hands they did not see, and it seemed strange to them.
* * * * *
Now from henceforth the young man and his wife always went everywhere
together; whether he was hunting or fishing, the shadow always followed
him, and he begged to have his bed made where they had first seated
themselves, instead of in the room where he had slept before. And this
the people in the house did gladly, for joy at having him back.
In the day, if they happened not to be away hunting or fishing, the wife
was so quiet that no one would have guessed she was there, but during
the night she would play games with her husband and talk to him, so that
the others could hear her voice. At her first coming the chief felt
silent and awkward, but after a while he grew accustomed to her and
would pretend to be angry and called out: 'You had better get up now,
after keeping everyone awake all night with your games,' and they could
hear the shadow laugh in answer, and knew it was the laugh of the dead
woman.
Thus things went on for some time, and they might have gone on longer,
had not a cousin of the dead girl's who had wanted to marry her before
she married the chief's son become jealous when he found that her
husband had brought her back from across the lake. And he spied upon
her, and listened to her when she was talking, hoping for a chance to
work her some ill. At last the chance came, as it commonly does, and it
was in this wise:
Night after night the jealous man had hidden himself at the head of the
bed, and had stolen away unperceived in the morning without having heard
anything to help his wicked plans. He was beginning to think he must try
something else when one evening the girl suddenly said to her husband
that she was tired of being a shadow, and was going to show herself in
the body that she used to have, and meant to keep it always. The husband
was glad in his soul at her words, and then proposed that they should
get up and play a game as usual; and, while they were playing, the man
behind the curtains peeped through. As he did so, a noise as of a
rattling of bones rang through the house, and when the people came
running, they found the husband dead and the shadow gone, for the ghosts
of both had sped back to Ghostland.
_Tlingit Myths._
_YOUNG AMAZON SNELL_
When George I. was king, there lived in Worcester a man named Snell, who
carried on business as a hosier and dyer. He worked hard, as indeed he
had much need to do--having three sons and six daughters to provide for.
The boys were sent to some kind of school, but in those days tradesmen
did not trouble themselves about educating their girls, and Snell
thought it quite enough for them to be able to read and to count upon
their fingers. If they wanted more learning they must pick it up for
themselves.
Now although Snell himself was a peaceable, stay-at-home man, his father
had been a soldier, and had earned fame and a commission as
captain-lieutenant, by shooting the Governor of Dunkirk in the reign of
King William. Many tales did the Snell children hear in the winter
evenings of their grandfather's brave deeds when he fought at Blenheim
with the Welsh Fusiliers, and a thrill of excitement never failed to run
through them as they listened to the story of the battle of Malplaquet,
where the hero received the wound that killed him.
'Twenty-two battles!' they whispered proudly yet with awe-struck voices;
'did ever any man before fight in so many as that?' and, though the
eldest boy said less than any, one morning his bed was empty, and by and
bye his mother got a message to tell her that Sam had enlisted, and was
to sail for Flanders with the army commanded by the Duke of Cumberland.
Poor Sam's career was not a long one. He was shot through the lungs at
the battle of Fontenoy, and died in a few hours.
The old grandfather's love of a fight was in all these young Snells,
and one by one the boys followed Sam's example, and the girls married
soldiers or sailors. Hannah, the youngest, brought up from her babyhood
on talk of wars and rumours of wars, thought of nothing else.
'_She_ would be a soldier too when she was big enough,' she told her
father and mother twenty times a day, and her playfellows were so
infected by her zeal, that they allowed themselves to be formed into a
company, of which Hannah, needless to say, was the commander-in-chief,
and meekly obeyed her orders.
In their free hours, she would drill them as her brothers had drilled
her, and now and then when she decided that they knew enough not to
disgrace her, she would march them through the streets of Worcester,
under the admiring gaze of the shopkeepers standing at their doors.
'Young Amazon Snell's troop are coming this way. See how straight they
hold themselves! and look at Hannah at the head of them,' said the
women, hurrying out; and though Hannah, like a well-trained soldier,
kept her eyes steadily before her, she heard it all and her little back
grew stiffer than ever.
So things went on for many years, till at the end of 1740 Mr. and Mrs.
Snell both died, and Hannah left Worcester to live with one of her
sisters, the wife of James Gray, a carpenter, whose home was at Wapping
in the east of London.
Much of Gray's work lay among the ships which drew up alongside the
wharf, and sailors were continually in and out of the house in Ship
Street. One of these, a Dutchman called Summs, proposed to Hannah, who
married him in 1743, when she was not yet twenty.
She was a good-looking, pleasant girl, and no doubt had attracted plenty
of attention. But of course she laughed at the idea of her marrying a
shopkeeper who had never been outside his own parish. So, like Desdemona
and many another girl before and after, she listened entranced to the
marvellous stories told her by Summs, and thought herself fortunate
indeed to have found such a husband.
She soon changed her opinion. Summs very quickly got tired of her; and
after ill-treating her in every kind of way, and even selling her
clothes, deserted her, and being ill and miserable and not knowing what
to do, she thankfully returned to her sister.
After some months of peace and rest, Hannah grew well and strong, and
then she made up her mind to carry out a plan she had formed during her
illness, which was to put on a man's dress, and go in search of the sailor
who had treated her so ill. At least this was what she said to herself,
but no doubt the real motive that guided her was the possibility of at
last becoming a soldier or sailor, and seeing the world. It is not quite
clear if she confided in her sister, but at any rate she took a suit of
her brother-in-law's clothes and his name into the bargain, and it was
as 'James Gray' that she enlisted in Coventry in 1745, in a regiment
commanded by General Guise.
It was lucky for Hannah that, unlike most girls of her day and position,
she had not been pent up at home doing needlework, as after three weeks,
she with seventeen other raw recruits was ordered to join her regiment
at Carlisle, so as to be ready to act, if necessary, against the
Highlanders and Prince Charlie. But these three weeks had taught her
much about a soldier's life which her brothers had left untold. She had
learnt to talk as the men about her talked, and to drink with them if
she was invited, though she always contrived to keep her head clear and
her legs steady. As to her husband, of him she could hear nothing at
Coventry; perhaps she might be more fortunate in the north.
In spite of a burn on her foot, which she had received after enlisting,
Hannah found no difficulty in marching to Carlisle with the other
recruits, and when they reached the city at the end of twenty-two days,
she was as fresh as any of them. How delighted she was to find that the
dream of her childhood was at last realised, and that she could make as
good a soldier as the rest. But her spirits were soon dashed by the
wickedness of the sergeant, who on Hannah's refusal to help him to carry
out an infamous scheme on which he had set his heart, reported her to
the commanding officer for neglect of duty. No inquiry as to the truth
of this accusation appears to have been made, and the sentence
pronounced was extraordinarily heavy, even though it was thought to have
been passed on a man. The prisoner was to have her hands tied to the
castle gates and to receive six hundred lashes. She actually did receive
five hundred, at least, so it was said, and then some officers who were
present interfered, and bade them set her free.
It does not seem as if Hannah suffered much from her stripes, but very
soon a fresh accident upset all her plans. The arrival of a new recruit
was reported, and the youth turned out to be a young carpenter from
Wapping, who had spent several days in her brother-in-law's house while
she was living there. Hannah made sure that he would recognise her at
once, though as a matter of fact he did nothing of the kind, and to
prevent the shame of discovery, she determined to desert the regiment,
and try her fortune elsewhere.
To go as far as possible from Carlisle was her one idea, and what town
could be better than Portsmouth for the purpose?
But in order to travel such a long way, money was needed, and Hannah had
spent all her own and did not know how to get more. She consulted a
young woman whom she had helped when in great trouble, and in gratitude,
the girl instantly offered enough to enable her friend to get a lift on
the road when she was too tired to walk any longer.
'If you get rich, you can pay me back,' she said; 'if not, the debt is
still on my side. But, oh, Master Gray, beware, I pray you! for if they
catch you, they will shoot you, to a certainty.'
'No fear,' answered Hannah laughing, and very early one morning she
stole out.
Taking the road south she crept along under the shade of the hedge, till
about a mile from the town she noticed a heap of clothes lying on the
ground, flung there by some labourers who were working at the other end
of the field.
'It will be many hours yet before they will look for them,' thought she,
'and fair exchange is no robbery,' so stooping low in the ditch she
slipped off her regimentals, and hiding them at the very bottom of the
pile, put on an old coat and trousers belonging to one of the men. Then
full of hope, she started afresh.
Perhaps the commander in Carlisle never heard of the desertion of one of
the garrison, or perhaps search for James Gray was made in the wrong
direction. However that may be, nobody troubled the fugitive, who weary
and footsore, in a month's time entered Portsmouth.
At this point a new chapter begins in Hannah Snell's history. The old
desire to see the world was still strong upon her, and, after resting
for a little in the house of some kind people, she enlisted afresh in a
regiment of marines. A few weeks later, she was ordered to join the
'Swallow,' and to sail with Admiral Boscawen's fleet for the East
Indies.
It was Hannah's first sea-voyage, but, in spite of the roughness of the
life on board ship in those days, she was happy enough. England was
behind her; that was the chief thing, and who could tell what wonderful
adventures lay in front? So her spirits rose, and she was so
good-natured and obliging as well as so clever, that the crew one and
all declared they had found a treasure. There was nothing 'James Gray'
could not and would not do--wash their shirts, cook their food, mend
their holes, laugh at their stories. And, as she looked a great deal
younger in her men's clothes than she had done in her woman's dress, no
one took her for anything but a boy, and all willingly helped to teach
her the duties which would fall to her, both now and in case of war.
She kept watch for four hours in turn with the rest, and soon began to
see in the dark with all the keenness of a sailor. Next she was taught
how to load and unload a pistol, which pleased her very much, and was
given her place on the quarter-deck, where she was at once to take up
her station during an engagement. Most likely she was forced from time
to time to attend drill, but this we are not told.
The 'Swallow' was not half through the Bay of Biscay when a great storm
arose which blew the fleet apart, and did great damage to the vessel.
Both her topmasts were lost, and it is a wonder that, in this crippled
condition, the ship was able to make her way to Lisbon, where the crew
remained on shore till the ship was refitted, and she could join the
rest of the fleet, which then set sail down the Atlantic towards the
coast of India.
Except for more bad weather and a scarcity of provisions on board the
'Swallow,' nothing worthy of note occurred, till they had rounded the
Cape of Good Hope and passed Madagascar.
Some fruitless attacks on a group of islands belonging to the French
gave Hannah her first experience of war, and her comrades were anxious
as to how 'the boy' would behave under fire. But they speedily saw that
there was no danger that any cowardice of his would bring discredit on
the regiment, and that 'James Gray' was as good a fighter as he was a
cook. Perhaps 'James Gray,' if the truth be told, was rather relieved
himself when the bugle sounded a retreat, for no one knows what may
happen to him in the excitement of a first battle; or whether in the
strangeness and newness of it all, he may not lose his head and run
away, and be covered with shame for ever.
None of this, however, befell Hannah, and when six weeks after, they
were on Indian soil, and sat down to besiege the French settlement of
Pondicherry, the Worcestershire girl was given more than one chance of
distinguishing herself.
Pondicherry was a very strong place and the walls which were not washed
by the sea were thoroughly fortified and defended by guns, while the
magazines contained ample supplies both of food and powder. Further, it
was guarded by the fort of Areacopong commanding a river, and with a
battery of twelve guns ready to pour forth fire on the British army.
Hannah was speedily told off with some others to bring up certain
stores, which had been landed by the fleet, and, after some heavy
skirmishing, they succeeded in their object. Her company was then
ordered to cross the river so as to be able to march, when necessary,
upon Pondicherry itself, and this they did under the fire of the guns of
Areacopong, with the water rising to their breasts.
At length the fort was captured and great was the rejoicing in the
British lines, for the surrender of Areacopong meant the removal of the
chief barrier towards taking the capital of French India.
For seven nights Hannah had to be on picket duty, and was later sent to
the trenches, where she constantly was obliged to dig with the water up
to her waist, for the autumn rains had now begun.
But her heart and soul were bound up in the profession she had chosen,
and everything else was forgotten, even her desire to revenge herself on
her husband. Not a soldier in the army fought better than she, and in
one of the battles under the walls of Pondicherry, she is said to have
received eleven shots in her legs alone! She was carried into hospital,
and when the doctors had time to attend to her, she showed them the
bullet wounds down her shins, but made no mention of a ball which had
entered her side, for she was resolved not to submit to any examination.
This wound gave her more pain than all the rest put together, and after
two days she made up her mind that in order to avoid being discovered
for a woman she must extract it herself, with the help of a native who
was acting as nurse.
Setting her teeth to prevent herself shrieking with the agony the
slightest touch caused her, Hannah felt about till she found the exact
spot where the ball was lodged, and then pressed the place until the
bullet was near enough to the surface for her to pull it out with her
finger and thumb. The pain of it all was such that she sank back almost
fainting, but with a violent effort she roused herself, and stretching
out her hand for the lint and the ointment placed within her reach by
the nurse, she dressed the wound. Three months later she was as well as
ever, and able to do the work of a sailor on board a ship which, at that
time, was anchored in the harbour.
As soon as the fleet returned from Madras, Hannah was ordered to the
'Eltham,' but at Bombay she fell into disgrace with the first
lieutenant, was put into irons for five days, spent four hours at the
foretop-masthead, and received twelve lashes. She was likewise accused
of stealing a shirt, but, as this was proved to be false, the charge
only roused the anger of the crew, and they took the first opportunity
to revenge themselves on the lieutenant who had sentenced her.
It was in November 1749 that the fleet sailed for home, and the 'Eltham'
was directed to steer a straight course for Lisbon, having to take on
board a large sum of money, destined for some London merchants. One day
when she was ashore with her mates, they turned into a public-house to
have dinner. Here they happened to meet an English sailor, with whom
many of the party were well acquainted. Learning that he had been lately
engaged on a Dutch vessel, Hannah inquired carelessly whether he had
ever come across one Jemmy Summs.
'Summs?' answered the man. 'I should think I had. I heard of him only
the other day at Genoa, in prison for killing an Italian gentleman. I
asked to be allowed to see him, and as he was condemned to death, they
gave me leave to do so. He told me the story of his life, and how, while
he was in London, he married a young woman called Hannah Snell, and then
deserted her. More than six years have passed since that time, and he
does not know what became of her. But he begged me, if ever I was near
Wapping again, to seek her out and entreat her to forgive him. As soon
as he had finished, the gaoler entered and bade us say farewell.
'That was the last we saw of him, but before I left I heard that he had
been sewn up in a bag filled with stones, and thrown into the sea, which
is their way of hanging.'
Hannah had listened in silence, and would gladly have quitted the place,
to think over the sailor's story quietly. But she never forgot the part
she was playing, and roused herself to tell the sailor that when she
returned to England she would make it her business to search for the
widow, and to help her if she seemed in need. Then she got up and called
for the bill, and followed by her companions, rowed back to the ship.
It was on June 1, 1750, that Hannah Snell landed in Portsmouth, and in
the course of a few days made her way to Wapping. The rough life she had
led, and even her uniform, had changed her so little that her sister
recognised her at once, and flung her arms round the stranger's neck,
much to the surprise of the neighbours. But Hannah, in spite of her
sister's entreaties, refused to put on the dress of a woman till she
had received L15 of pay due to her, and two suits; and when this was
done, she invited those of the ship's crew who were then in London to
drink with her at a public-house, and there revealed to them her secret.
[Illustration: THE SAILORS DRINK THE HEALTH OF AMAZON SNELL]
It was, however, to no purpose that she talked. These men, by whose side
she had fought and drunk for so long, would believe nothing, and thought
it was just 'one of Jemmy's stories.' At length she was forced to send
for her sister and brother-in-law, who swore that her tale was true, and
then the sailors broke out into a chorus of praise of her courage, her
cleverness, and her kindness, all the time that they had known her. One,
indeed, made her an offer on the spot; but Hannah had had enough of
matrimony, and was not minded to tie herself to another husband.
It was not long before the wondrous story of Hannah Snell reached
the ears of the Duke of Cumberland, son of George II., and
Commander-in-Chief of the British Army. A petition was drawn up, setting
forth her military career, and requesting the grant of a pension in
consideration of her services. This petition an accident enabled her to
deliver in person to the Duke as he was leaving his house in Pall Mall,
and by the advice of his equerry, Colonel Napier, the pension of a
shilling a day for life--L18 5_s._--was bestowed on her.
It does not sound much to us, but money went a great deal further in
those times.
But her fame as a female soldier was worth much more to Hannah than the
scars she had won in His Majesty's service. The manager of the theatre
at the New Wells, Goodman's Fields, saw clearly that the opportunity was
too good to be lost, and that advertisement of 'the celebrated Mrs.
Hannah Snell, who had gained twelve wounds fighting the French in
India,' would earn a large fortune for him, and a small fortune for her.
So here we bid her good-bye, and listen to her for the last time--her
petticoats discarded for ever--singing to the fashionable audience of
Goodman's Fields the songs with which she had delighted for many months
the crew of the 'Eltham.'
_THE GOOD SIR JAMES_
My Sir James is not the leal friend of Robert Bruce nor is he the
Douglas who fell at Otterburn and was buried 'by the bracken bush that
grows on yonder lilye lee.' My Sir James is alive and well to-day, and
is one of the Quiqui people who live in the wood beyond the avenue at
the end of our garden. There were two of these little squirrels, Sir
James and Lady Quiqui, and both sometimes came on to the lawn and
grubbed up crocus bulbs and committed other sins readily forgiven to
people of such beauty. They lived a peaceful and happy life till one
wild November night, when poor Lady Quiqui fell or was blown off a tree.
I went out next morning, and close to the garden gate I found her little
body on the ground still alive, but unable to move. I brought her to the
house, but no care could save her and she died within a few hours. Sir
James was now an inconsolable widower. I think he felt lonely, for after
his wife's death his appearances about the house became more and more
frequent.
The days were short and cold, and every morning the ground was white
with frost. Hungry birds flocked to the drawing-room window-sill for a
breakfast of bread-crumbs. One day Sir James came when they were
feasting. He was angry:
'The feast is for me,' he said, and with skilful, energetic hands he put
sparrows, chaffinches, and robins to flight and then breakfasted with an
excellent appetite.
Rows of sad little birds perched on the fence, and sat and watched
greedy Sir James from afar, but none dared come near the window till he
had gone. This happened nearly every day.
Once a great big herring-gull came and I think the little birds hoped
that their wrongs would now be avenged. Again and again the gull swooped
down and attempted to snatch some choice morsel, but again and again the
good Sir James tiny and brave, drove away his gigantic foe. It then
circled round uttering shrieks of rage and despair, and finally
departed, leaving Sir James triumphant.
One morning, a few days after the discomfiture of the herring-gull, Sir
James had another adventure. He had been sitting quietly on the
window-sill enjoying his cake and nuts. All of a sudden his mood changed
and he became very restless and angrily excited. He ran backwards and
forwards at a great pace for some moments, then he gave a spring forward
and downward towards the narrow garden-path. I looked out and, to my
horror, saw no Sir James, but the terrifying sight of 'Dolly,' the
gardener's cat, galloping away at full speed. Dolly was at once pursued
and captured. We almost wept with relief when we found that our worst
fears were not realised and that the good Sir James was not in Dolly's
mouth. Indeed, we blamed the cat far too hastily, and I now think that
Sir James was possibly not the victim, but the aggressor, and that he
had merely been driving the innocent Dolly away from the vicinity of his
breakfast. All we know for certain is that he very soon ran back to this
breakfast and finished it with much enjoyment, and that his return
brought peace and comfort to our agitated and anxious minds.
Sir James was sometimes unpunctual, and on those days the birds
thoroughly enjoyed themelves. By the time the little Quiqui-man arrived,
not a crumb was to be found off which he could dine. The birds twittered
with delight.
One day I bought a little cream-can with a lid, and filled it with his
favourite dainties. I then put it out on the window-sill, fastening the
handle firmly to a nail.
'Fancy expecting a wild animal to eat out of a thing like that,' someone
remarked, scornfully; 'he will think it is a trap and never go near it.'
I waited anxiously. About twelve o'clock a startled flight of small
birds announced the arrival of Sir James. Although there were still some
crumbs lying about, he went straight to the cream-can and shook it
vigorously with eager hands and teeth. It took him nearly five minutes
to get it open, but he persevered and succeeded. I then had the
satisfaction of seeing him dive into the tin, head first, about half a
dozen times, each time reappearing with cake or a nut.
From that day the little cream-can was kept well supplied with nuts and
cake. As time passed, Sir James grew more and more particular about his
food. He soon scorned crocus bulbs and even bread-crumbs, insisting on a
diet of shortbread cake and nuts. He always selected the biggest nut or
piece of cake to carry home. It was surprising what he could do. He was
one day seen dragging off about a third of a coconut that I had hung up
for the tits, and he managed to get this heavy burden over the high
fence that bounds our garden.
Another time we put uncracked nuts in the can instead of the usually
carefully prepared ones. Sir James examined them, dropped them, and then
with angry hands drummed upon the window-panes. Our guilty consciences
told us what was wrong, so we gently opened the window. Sir James
disappeared for a few moments, but long before we had finished cracking
the nuts he was back and watching us. We have never since dared offer
him uncracked nuts.
Winter passed, and 'in the spring a young man's fancy turns to thoughts
of love.' Sir James was very lonely and he longed for the companionship
of his own kind. He took to wandering. Sometimes days went by without
our seeing him, and our hearts were anxious when the little cream-can
remained with closed lid and contents untouched. Then on one occasion I
met the Quiqui-man nearly a mile from home. I knew him at once and he
knew me, for he came half-way down a tree to greet me, waving his little
brown hands with ten very black nails. When I saw the good Sir James so
far from home, I feared for him. I thought of the perils from hawks and
prowling cats that he was daily incurring. Something must be done and at
once. Negotiations produced the arrival a few days later of Jemima
Golightly, a fine handsome squirrel, who came by herself all the way
from Eastbourne to these West Highland shores. Miss Golightly was
instantly put in a cage, and next morning the wedding breakfast was
prepared and put in the cream-can. The cage was placed on a table by the
open window in the drawing-room. How anxiously I watched for the coming
of Sir James! At last he appeared. Just as he was making for his
cream-can, his quick eye detected Miss Golightly. In a moment he was on
the top of the cage tugging away at the handle, while Miss Golightly
inside rushed round and round, banging herself about so that I thought
the cage would get knocked over. Sir James, finding his efforts with
tooth and nail were unsuccessful, bestowed a further inspection on the
cage. He soon discovered the door which opened easily to his skilful
touch. Miss Golightly sprang out with a graceful bound--poor little
captive, set free by as gallant a knight as ever sat at Arthur's table.
The two squirrels stood quite still for a moment. Then Sir James led the
way through the open window, closely followed by Miss Golightly. I
rushed to the library. From there I could see the two little forms
making for the beech avenue. I was delighted. My joy, however, received
a decided check when Sir James reappeared alone, half an hour
afterwards. He went at once to the cream-can and in solitary splendour
ate nearly all the wedding breakfast. Had he already deserted the little
English bride he had so bravely rescued? Sir James resumed his daily
visits to the cream-can, but he never said anything about the bride. To
be sure, he always took away a tribute when he went home, but as he was
in the habit of doing this, we could not feel certain that it was
intended for anybody but himself.
It was about a fortnight later that a servant came to my room and said,
'Sir James is at the window.' I went at once to the drawing-room and, to
my surprise, saw, not Sir James, but the little bride. She was redder in
colour than Sir James, and had much bigger hands. I was enchanted, and
still more so when a few minutes later the good Sir James himself
arrived on the scene, and it was certainly charming to see the two
little squirrels side by side on the window-sill. Both the Quiqui
people have often come since then, but Lady Quiqui has never to this day
learned the secret of the cream-can. Sir James himself always performs
the opening ceremony, and he then retires and allows his lady to dine.
When he thinks that she has had enough he comes back and she goes away
home, and he feasts on what is left.
Sir James seems content with this arrangement and never fails to give
Lady Quiqui first choice of all the good things. This is the more
touching as he is rather a greedy little man. Greedy, generous, and
brave; and all of us, who know him, realise the fascination of the good
Sir James.