A STRANGE MEETING
The middle of October found the Forces with their party again at Rome,
settled in their old quarters.
News of the war came by every mail, bringing accounts of battles fought,
and lost or won.
They were of those few who in the dreadful struggle could not take any
side. They only longed for peace and reconciliation. They passed the
winter in Rome, but in the early spring Mr. and Mrs. Force and their
daughters began to long for their native country even more than for
their particular home.
There seemed no present prospect of an end to the fratricidal war. The
holocausts of youth, manhood and heroism offered up monthly to the Devil
of Discord did not seem to appease his rapacity.
Every mail brought news of new battles and of thousands and tens of
thousands slain on either side; the storm of war raging more and more
furiously as the months went on.
“Elfrida!” said Mr. Force one day, “I cannot stand it any longer! We
must go home, my dear, and be with our country in her need! Not to burn
and slay and rob on one side or the other, but to nurse the wounded and
feed the hungry, and clothe the naked—and give all our time, money and
energy to this needful work. You and your daughters and even your
crippled husband can do this much to abate the pain of the age!”
He had said words to the same effect before, but never with so much of
sorrowful earnestness as now.
“Well, we will go, Abel. Yes; it is indeed our duty to do so. Besides,
our Odalite is wasting away with hope deferred! We have not heard from
Le for so many months! He may be dead on some crowded battlefield, or
ill and delirious in some hospital, or in some prison! We might find out
his fate by going home. And then there is poor little Rosemary fretting
out her heart about young Bayard, who has never been heard of since he
sailed with Capt. Grandiere, now nearly three years ago! We might find
out something satisfactory about him. We all need to go home! There is
no one but Wynnette who is not breaking down under this anxiety and
uncertainty! Wynnette thanks Heaven every day that Sam Grandiere chooses
to stay home and mind his crops. As for Elva, she makes every one’s
trouble her own and suffers for and with all. Yes, we all need to go
home.”
“And our home and our country needs us,” added Mr. Force.
So it was decided that they should return home as soon as passages for
their whole party could be secured.
Mrs. Force dreaded to tell her brother of the impending separation.
The earl had grown so much better in health, spirits and happiness while
traveling in their company, that it would seem like relegating him to
gloom, solitude and despondency to send him back alone to his old life
at Enderby Castle.
She took the time immediately after breakfast the next morning to break
the news to him.
“Going! Going back to America!” he exclaimed, in astonishment.
“Yes. It is our bounden duty. The war is not the temporary disturbance
that you thought it was to be. It is growing more terrible every month.
It may last yet for years. We must go to our home and do the best we can
for everybody,” replied the lady. And then she went over the whole
subject as it had been discussed between herself and her husband.
“Yes, my dear, it is your duty to go home,” admitted the earl.
“Still, my dear brother, we are very sorry to leave you. I hope,
however, that you will not go back to Enderby Castle, to your old
solitary life there. It is very bad for you. I hope you will go up to
London, and open your house on Westbourne Terrace, and call your friends
together and entertain them, even though I shall not be there with my
daughters to help you, as I had once hoped to be.”
“I shall not go to London, Elfrida. I have no friends there, and I hate
society. No; I shall go to the United States with you,” said the earl.
“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Mrs. Force, between surprise, pleasure
and incredulity.
“Yes; I do most certainly mean it. I have never seen America, and though
the state of civil war may not be the most pleasant aspect under which
to view a new country, yet it is certainly the most interesting. And so,
Elfrida, if you have no objection, I shall go with you to America.”
“You know that I am delighted at the thought of having you,” said the
lady.
“Has Force written to engage passage?” inquired the earl.
“He intends to write this morning to inquire about the first ship on
which he can get berths for all our large party to New York.”
“Then ask him to see about two additional berths for me and my valet.”
Thus it was arranged that the whole family party, including the earl,
should go to America together.
In due time the answer from the agent of the Cunard line arrived. They
could all be accommodated on the _Asia_, which would sail on the
twenty-third of March.
“This is the ninth. We have just two weeks to get ready in. We had best
start for Liverpool as soon as possible and make our final preparations
for the voyage there,” said Mr. Force, after he had read the letter to
his assembled family.
“And, oh, papa, let somebody go to Enderby Castle to fetch Joshua,”
exclaimed Wynnette.
“Why, my dear girl, the old dog may be dead,” said the earl.
“Oh, no, he is not dead! I write to Mrs. Kelsey every week to ask about
dear Joshua, and he is very well. And he is not at all an old dog. He is
only nine years old. I remember him ever since he was a puppy.”
“Well, it has been over two years since he saw you, and he has forgotten
you by this time.”
“Oh, no, he hasn’t. We were away from home three years and three months,
and he never forgot us. You ought to have seen how he met us!”
“Well, my dear, when we get to Liverpool, I will telegraph to one of my
grooms to bring the dog to us.”
“Dear uncle! how I love you!”
A week from this time the whole party were settled at the Adelphi Hotel,
in Liverpool, to await the day of their sailing for New York.
Mr. Force kept his room. The Earl of Enderby spent hours in his own
apartment with his family solicitor and his land steward, both of whom
had been summoned by telegraph to meet him at Liverpool.
The ladies of the family spent their days in final shopping, providing
themselves, among other conveniences, with thick linsey-woolsey suits
for sea wear, and with heavy Astrakhan wool shawls for wraps.
In due time the groom from Enderby arrived with Wynnette’s dog in his
charge. Space does not permit to describe the interview between the two.
It is enough to hint that Joshua, in dog language, bitterly reproached
his mistress for breaking faith with him, and deserting him for so long
a time, and then magnanimously forgave her, while Wynnette was all
apologies for the past and protestations for the future.
On Saturday, the twenty-third of March, the whole party embarked on
board the ocean steamer _Asia_, then at anchor in the Mersey, and bound
to sail for New York at twelve, noon, of that day.
There was the usual crowd on deck; with the usual partings; friends
departing, and friends who had come to send them off; some grave, some
cheerful, some merry, some despondent.
At length this was all interrupted by the shout of the first mate from
the poop:
“All ashore!”
And the last hurried good-bys were spoken, and the last embraces given,
and the friends of the voyagers hastened over the gang plank to the
steam tender which had brought them to the ship.
Then the farewell gun was fired, and the _Asia_ stood out to sea—her
passengers standing in lines to gaze on the receding land.
Mr. Force and his party were walking up and down the deck of the
steamer, when they saw coming from the opposite direction a figure so
remarkable that it would at once have attracted attention anywhere.
It was the tall, stout figure of an old man, with a fresh, red face,
clear blue eyes, a white mustache, and a commanding presence. He wore
the uniform of an American skipper, with its flat, gold-rimmed cap.
As he approached Mr. Force stared, and then started and held out his
hand, exclaiming:
“Capt. Grandiere! You here! Why, where did you drop from, and where is
Roland Bayard?”
The gruff old sailor stopped to lift his cap to the ladies, and to shake
hands all around, and to be introduced to the Earl of Enderby, and to
shake hands with him, before he replied to Mr. Force’s first question:
“My ship, the _Kitty_, was taken by that infernal pirate, the _Argente_.
I was set ashore, alone, on the English coast. I had some correspondents
at Liverpool, who supplied me with funds to return home. That is all.”
“But—where is Roland Bayard?”
“With the pirates.”