THE "HAPPY RETURN" INSPECTED--MORE OF MY FATHER'S GHOST--UNPACKING
THE TREASURE--SEEK AN INTERVIEW WITH WALTER JOHNSON--TWO LETTERS.
At eight I arose refreshed and looked out of the window, and saw Alec
and my father walking down to the "Happy Return," so I slipped on my
clothes and ran down to them.
Father was amazed to think we had made the voyage in such a craft, and
said, "All's well that ends well, my lad; but if you had been caught in
a squall in the Channel, with a deeply laden boat like this, what do you
think would have become of her crew?"
Then I explained how we had hugged first the French coast and then the
English, going into port when we wanted; and how we had been favoured
with fair winds and fine weather, which just pleased the old fellow. If
anyone wanted an attentive listener let him broach the subject of ships
and the sea, and he would at once have my dad as a most appreciative
hearer. Shipwrecks and disasters at sea on the East Coast are,
unfortunately, of only too frequent occurrence, and a large volume might
be written of the daring deeds that have been performed in connection
with them, which have come under my own observation.
By the way, I promised my readers to say more of the vision of my
father, which appeared to me in Jethou. Now that I was home I had the
opportunity of telling him of this extraordinary occurrence. He was
naturally surprised at what I told him, and could only account for it in
one way. But let me briefly tell the reader what really occurred to him.
He had been to Yarmouth as usual to business, and in the evening was
driving home when, in rounding a sharp turn, his trap was carelessly run
into by another vehicle driven by a lad. My father was thrown out,
falling upon the shaft of his own trap on his left side. As he was lying
in an insensible condition in the roadway, the horse, in trying to rise,
fell upon or kicked him in the thigh, breaking his leg. He was conveyed
home, and a doctor sent for, who, in a short time, brought him to his
senses. Upon examination it was found that his thigh-bone and a rib on
his left side were broken. While preparations were being made to set
these bones my father conversed eagerly about the nature of his hurts,
asking the doctor if they were likely to prove fatal, etc. The doctor
told him "No, not necessarily, but he must keep his mind quiet and not
worry." Then he told the doctor about me, as it was for my sake he cared
most, and it was at this time, viz., half-past eight p.m., that I saw
the vision of my father sitting in my room at Jethou. The mysterious
appearance was in some way connected with his _will_, but how it was
all brought about I must leave to the Psychical Society to fathom.[8]
About ten in the morning Miss Grant came, and then I proposed that with
father's assistance we should get out the whole of the cargo and store
it in the spare room. I would not hear of his offer of a couple of men
to help, as I wanted nobody but ourselves to know of what our cargo
consisted.
Slowly the various cases, bales, and packages were transported across
the greensward and safely housed, the heavy iron chest bringing up the
rear. This took the united strength of four of us to carry, and when we
had put it in the room, I locked the door and proceeded to show my
spoil.
First I exhibited the curiosities which we had dredged up, a few stuffed
fish and birds, my sketches, curious stones, shells, and seaweed, etc.
These were duly admired. Then I brought out the old weapons, and undid
the bundles of garments, but being rather musty the effect upon my
onlookers was not great; in fact, my mother gave it as her opinion that
they (the costumes) might breed a fever or some foreign disease, and
should be buried or burnt. To this I could not consent however till I
had had a little more time to look them over and make drawings of them;
not that I ever intended setting up as a theatrical costumier, but I
have a great love for anything old, which my friends tell me will
ultimately become chronic, so that I shall have to be watched when
visiting museums and kindred places, for fear of the development of
kleptomania.
Expectation ran high as I produced the key of the padlock to unchain the
big chest, for we had purchased an old lock at Alderney, from mine host
of the inn. The lid was raised, and I produced the three books, but as
no one could read them they were put down as evil-smelling things, musty
and mysterious.
Next the small golden casket was produced and handed round, amid great
exclamations of delight, for I had polished it till it glittered again
in the sunlight. The polished gems on the lid and sides found great
favour in the sight of mother and Priscilla, who were quite lost in
wonder as to where I had obtained it. Presently I opened it, and poured
the uncut gems out upon the table, as a sample of Jethou pebbles; but
they were not much appreciated, although when held to the light they
certainly shewed rich colouring.
"Only fancy walking about on a beach covered with these coloured stones.
I should think they look rather pretty when they are wet with sea water
and the sun shines on them. But then I suppose when you see them by the
_ton_, day after day, you take no notice of them?"
This was Priscilla's idea, and when I told her that they were not so
common as to be walked upon or shovelled up by the _ton_, but that they
were really and truly diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds, in
their natural uncut state, she would scarcely believe it. Even my
mother expressed her incredulity with the remark, "Go along, boy! I
suppose we shall not know a turnip from an apple next?"
As my veracity appeared to be at stake I now produced a little pouch of
cut, lustrous gems, which at once brought forth quite a different flight
of exclamations and queries.
"The ducks! How lovely! How they glitter! See how the sun makes them
look as if they were alight! Are they _really_ real? Where _did_ you get
them from? Are they yours?" and a dozen other questions were put to me
in as many seconds, but I only laughed and said:
"Now do you believe me?"
The gold dishes, chalices, etc., were also produced, and made a great
impression--gold always does.
My good old dad stood by, looking very grave, and gave a very emphatic
shake of his head, so I said:
"What do you think of it all?"
Another shake of the head, and then:
"I don't know what to make of it at all, Harry; but if these things are
yours, I hope you came by them honestly. Such things are not indigenous
to Jethou, you know!"
"Not indigenous to Jethou! Why, Alec will bear me out that they have
been indigenous to the island for scores of years, won't you, Alec?"
"It is quite true, Mr. Nilford. These things have belonged to Jethou for
a century at least, but I cannot affirm that they are actually the
native produce of the island, any more than the contents of these bags."
He thereupon pulled out one of the great leathern bags and placed in my
father's hand, who nearly dropped it, as it weighed over a stone.
When the old gentleman saw the huge silver coins, each more than double
the size of a five-shilling piece, he seemed spell-bound.
"What are they? Are _all_ the bags full?" he queried.
"Yes, dad; and now if you will all sit down I will tell you the history
of my curious cargo."
Then I told them from beginning to end the entire history of Barbe
Rouge's hoard, just as it is already known to the reader. I wound up my
wonderful recital by calling for pen, ink, and paper, and there and then
writing off to M. Oudin, in Paris, giving him a full account of the
find, and asking what should be done with the property.
By Priscilla's desire I did not visit the Priory that day, but on the
morrow, after lunch, I took my heavy stick and strode up the gravel path
and gave a very important rat-a-tat-tat at the great oak door. The
servant who answered my summons informed me, much to my disappointment,
that both Mr. Johnson and his son had gone to Liverpool the previous
day, the former to see the latter off. Something of importance, the
servant thought, had caused him to depart two days before the date upon
which it was at first intended he should leave Barton. With a glance at
my big stick I thought perhaps I had somehow influenced his _hegira_,
and such I afterwards found to be the case.
As I was bidding the servant (who did not know me) "good morning" she
asked my name, and upon my mentioning that I was Mr. Nilford's son,
asked me to wait while she fetched a letter which had been left in case
I should call. Mr. Johnson had also left a letter for Miss Grant. This I
said I should have much pleasure in delivering, and took them both.
Arrived home I found Priscilla waiting for me in great anxiety, fearing
that if Walter Johnson was at home something serious between us might
occur. Probably something would have occurred. She seemed greatly upset,
and taking me aside, said she had something to impart to me, which I
must promise to forgive her for. I consented.
"Then, Harry, I must confess to having written to Walter Johnson
yesterday. No, do not look in that terrible manner, for I did it both
for your good and his. I simply informed him that you were home and
would call upon him to-day, so that if he wished to avoid a violent
scene he had better hasten his departure."
I could say nothing to this, as I felt that what she had done had saved
a deal of bother. Then I handed her the letter inscribed with her name.
To my surprise she would not open it herself, and no amount of
persuasion would cause her to. She wished me to open it and read its
contents, that I might see all was fair and straightforward. It merely
asked forgiveness for the writer for having behaved in such an
ungentlemanly manner, and hoping that as all was fair in love and war,
she would think of him as one who, having striven for a great prize, had
failed. Although defeated, he hoped she would remember him as one not
disgraced, etc., etc.
My letter contained a cheque for a hundred pounds, as payment for a
wager lost to me, and wishing me every happiness. I ardently wished I
could have been near the writer at that instant, and I fancy he would
not only have felt most _unhappy_, but that he would have spent a
_mauvais quart d'heure_, as our Gallic neighbours say. So much for
Johnson, who never troubled us again.
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FOOTNOTE:
8: I find, on enquiry, that this Society has some _hundreds_
of well-authenticated accounts of these occult occurrences, and it
really seems that we are often sceptical of these phenomena, without
taking the trouble to investigate the cases that come under our
immediate notice to discover their truthfulness.
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