bathing-place of great resort, described in the first series of this
work, might be seen, some few years ago, a ruined barn, cottage, and
other farmyard appurtenances, around which the loose and drifting sand
was accumulated, covering, at the same time, some acres of scanty
pasture, once held under lease and occupation by an honest fisherman,
who earned a comfortable, if not an easy subsistence, from his
amphibious pursuits. The thatched roofs were broken through--the walls
rent and disfigured--all wore the aspect of desolation and decay. Long
grass had taken root, flourishing luxuriantly on the summit, though
surrounded by a barren wilderness, a wide and almost boundless ocean
of sand. The ruin was the only fertile spot in this dreary waste.
Though painful and melancholy the aspect, still, as the sea-breeze
came softly over, sighing gently on its time-worn furrows, and on the
nodding plumes that decorated the crest of this aged and hoary relic
of the past, the sensation, though pleasing, became mournful; the
heart seemed linked with the unknown, the mysterious events of ages
that are for ever gone--feelings that make even a luxury of grief,
prompted by that within us, "the joy of sorrow;" something more
hallowed, more cherished in the heart's holiest shrine, than all the
glare and glitter of enjoyment--the present bliss--which we prize only
when it departs.
[Illustration: THE LOST FARM, NEAR SOUTHPORT.
_Drawn by G. Pickering._
_Engraved by Edw^d Finden._]
Many years ago, this humble tenement was the abode of George Grimes,
the fisherman to whom we have just alluded. It was a dwelling one
story only from the ground, as the general use was in these regions,
ere modern edifices, staring forth in red, white, and green--their
bold and upstart pretensions outfacing and supplanting the lowly but
picturesque abodes of the aboriginal inhabitants--had overtopped and
overshadowed these meek, rural, and primitive displays of
architectural simplicity.
Grimes, we repeat, was of that amphibious class, common upon every
coast, combining the occupations incident to land and water in his own
proper person. Half-fisherman, half-farmer, he ploughed the seas with
his keel, when upon land his coulter was out of use. He was nigh
sixty, and had long settled down into that quiet nap-like sort of
existence, when the passions are lulled, scarcely visible, as they
creep over the stagnant current of life. He was hale and hard
featured; the lines on his visage betokening, if need were, a stern,
decisive, and obstinate bent in his disposition, that might have
issued in deeds of high and noble daring had its possessor been thrown
into circumstances favourable to the display. As matters stood, George
was master of his own household. Here none questioned his authority;
no profane, irreverent approach ever awakening the dormant energies of
his character, or thwarting the current, visible only by opposition.
His wife was a round, brown, heavy-cheeked, dark-eyed dame, with a cap
white as the whitest goose of the flock that marched every morning
from her barn-doors to the common, where, by some little pool, a
scanty and close-bitten herbage formed their daily subsistence. She
wore a striped apron; the blue lines would have vied with the best
Wigan check for breadth and distinctness. Her good-humoured mouth,
reverse from her husband's, was usually puckered up at the corners
into an expression of kindness, benignity, and mirth--the contrast
greatly aided by proximity; for though George Grimes was benevolent
and kind-hearted at the bottom, yet he was by no means apt to let
these gentler feelings rise to the surface.
An only daughter was now passing within the precincts of womanhood.
Her complexion, red, and--not white, reader--but of that rich,
healthy, and wholesome tinge, perfect as an example of the real
English brunette. Her face exhibited a beautiful modification of her
father's hard and determined expression, blended with her mother's
gentleness and placidity. A smile of thrilling sweetness would
sometimes pass upon her calm and thoughtful countenance, always
beautiful--if such a term can be allowed in speaking of a brown, rosy,
plump, and well-conditioned girl, of good stature, whose form had not
been squeezed into shape, nor her linsey woolsey flourished into
flounce and farthingale. Her hair hung in bright clusters on her brow;
fresh from Nature's toilet, their wild untutored elegance was singular
and bewitching. Indeed, Katherine, or "Kattern," as she was more
generally called, was the cynosure of this clime--a jewel, that needed
not the foil of its homely setting; the envy and admiration of the
whole neighbourhood--well known at church, and at Ormskirk market,
where she attended weekly--at the latter place to dispose of her
produce. Here she was the torment of many a rustic, unable to conquer,
or even to understand, the power by which his heart was taken captive.
Avarice was the besetting sin of her father. He was always fearful of
becoming poor, and "not paying his way," as he called it. Yet was it
suspected that George Grimes had a "powerfu'" hoard, concealed both
from his family and friends. Money he doated on. It was an undoubted
fact that many a shining face went into the coffer of old Grimes that
was never again seen performing the common everyday functions of
currency and traffic.
He was always a-dreaming, too, that he had found treasure. Often he
would spend the greater part of a morning tide in pacing the brink of
the boiling waves, hoping to find there some coinage of his brain that
had been his dream on the preceding night. Southport then existed not,
at least in name. No gay and laughing crowds fluttered on the margin
of the deep. No lines of well-trimmed "green-eyed" houses looked on,
nor boats with their dancing pennons and bright forms shone gallantly
on the waves. All was bleak, bare, and unappropriated. The very air
seemed tenantless, save when the solitary gull came sailing on heavily
with the approaching tide, screaming over the gorge she beheld rising
on the billows. The loud lunge of the sea was interrupted solely by
the cry of the fisherman, and the "cockler's" whistle, plying his
scanty trade among the shoals and sandbanks about the coast. It is
scarcely possible to conceive a situation more desolate and
uninviting. Hills of arid sand skirting the beach, without vegetation
or enclosure, except where the withered bent and little golden-starred
stone-crop gave their own wild and peculiar aspect to the scene. The
shore is flat and unbroken to the very horizon, where the tide,
retreating to its extreme verge, throws up a dim sparkle in the
distance--Nature even here displaying her never-ceasing round of
reproduction and decay, of advance and retrocession.
We had almost forgotten that there was another inmate of the
household--a tall, thick-browed, high-cheeked menial, whose coarse
habiliments displayed a well-proportioned shape, and shoulders of an
athletic width. He had been engaged at the farm barely twelve months
before the date of our narrative; and, at the first, a more egregious
simpleton, as to farming and fishing operations, never drew a net or
whistled at the plough-tail. Yet he came well recommended by a
Catholic gentleman in the neighbourhood as a stout servant of all
work, who would serve Grimes honestly and for moderate wages. He had
one excellence or defect, as it might be--that which we impute to one
dumb from his birth, but not deaf. He perfectly understood what was
spoken, though, to make known his wishes, he was obliged to have
recourse to signs or writing. In the former accomplishment he seemed
to be well skilled, for he often elucidated his meaning by rude
sketches in chalk upon the floor and table. There was a mystery about
his appearance he cared not to divulge. His country and connections,
too, were equally unknown. By the neighbours it was often suspected
that he dealt with the Evil One. The "evil eye" was sometimes
attributed to him; and the signs and chalkings were supposed to be
mystic emblems of the future, into the hidden secrets of which he had
the power of directing his inquiries.
He was apt in learning, and served George Grimes diligently and
faithfully. He soon became acquainted with the various duties of the
farm; and could unreef a sail or make a net with the best labourer in
the parish.
His only companion was Katherine. She taught him to knit, and to make
nets; directed him how to find the best peats, and showed him where
the rabbits burrowed and the larks and lapwings made their nests.
Sometimes the instructress and her pupil would sit on the sandhills,
and watch the sun sink down upon the ocean; sometimes they would
gather shells, when the day's work was over, and string them in
fantastic chaplets, which "_Dummy_" was very expert in contriving. He
could converse with Kattern without difficulty. He had taught her his
vocabulary of signs, and the maiden liked to observe his strange
remarks and inquiries on passing events.
In the forenoon of a dark, threatening, and squally day, just before
high tide, Grimes and his assistant had trudged towards the beach,
intending to go out with the boat for a little while. The weather
having been stormy of late, supplies were becoming scanty, and he
wanted a few fish for their own use. They proposed to take the smaller
boat only, hoping to be back with the next flood.
Toiling through the sand-drifts, they came to an opening between the
hills, which looked immediately on the beach. The sky was black and
heavy on the horizon towards the south-west. Round hard-edged clouds
rode on from the main body, like flying squadrons, "grim couriers" of
the storm. Here and there, through an opening in the clouds, the sky
was of a deep, vivid, and intense blue, contrasting wildly with the
rolling forms that tumbled about in turbulent confusion over the whole
hemisphere. The sea was rising in breakers over the banks, hillocks of
white foam riding on the crest of the billows, while the margin of the
waves boiled and frothed like some vast cauldron.
The old man was not in a particularly complaisant mood that day. He
was cross and snappish at trifles; irritable and out of humour with
himself. As he waded through the narrow defile, the dumb assistant
behind him whistled faintly, and perhaps inadvertantly. The fisherman
looked back with a furious glance.
"Thou staring buzzard, is't not enough to see sich a bellyful o' wind
i' brewing but thou must whistle for more to keep it company? Hang
thee for a he-witch; I never hear that accursed piping but the wind
follows, like sea-gulls to the garbage."
He had just turned a corner of the hill, when, looking round, he cried
in a tone of terror and amazement--
"How now, Dick? Why, the boat is gone! what prank next? Thou careless
unthrift, ill-luck follows i' thy wake. She has slipped anchor, and
the little _Kitty_ is gone to the Manx herring-boats. I am ruined,
thou limb of Old Nick! thou chub! thou"----
Epithets were accumulating with prodigious force, when Dick,
half-closing his eyes, pointed to something dark, like a small boat,
in the offing.
"What's yon thee'rt pointing at? A porpoise-back, I warrant. Ay, shake
thy head, fool; 'twill bring my bonny _Kitty_ back. Why, thou'rt
staring like a bit-boomp in a gutter catching frogs!"
Soon, however, the black speck became less ambiguous. George beheld a
white stern heaving up and down. He ran forward as if to accelerate
her return, crying out to his companion--
"A murrain catch thy tail, thou hast ever a longer sight than beseems
thee. But she's coming, sure enough, whatever she be."
The old man gazed in wonder and suspense. He saw a sail unfurl, and
the bark--his own little tight, trim vessel--come prancing on the
white billows toward the shore. Soon he observed, sitting therein,
perfectly at his ease, and unmindful of the near approach to, and the
portentous menaces of, the owner, a figure clad in a garment of grey
frieze, and a dark hairy cap on his head. One hand grasped the helm,
and in the other he held the sheet, while he managed the boat with the
most seamanlike skill and composure. His eye was fixed alternately on
the shore and on the vane at the masthead as he came dancing through
the surf, until he ran right upon the sands, where the boat grounded,
and he sprang out upon the beach. The astonishment of Grimes can
hardly be conceived when, without once deigning to notice him, away
went the stranger, vouchsafing neither thanks nor acknowledgments.
"Holloa, friend!" cried the incensed owner; "your disposition be freer
than welcome, methinks. Holloa, I say, whither away so fast?" cried he
impatiently, quickening his pace; but the stranger altered not his
gait in the least, plodding steadily onwards, without appearing to
notice the angry inquiries of his pursuer.
Soon the quick long strides of George Grimes brought him alongside of
the person he addressed. Crossing before him, and almost intercepting
his progress, he exclaimed--
"How now, friend? I'd be bold to know what thou be'st. I'm mightily
beholden to thee for this favour."
A malicious grin quivered on his pale and angry countenance; but the
stranger was unmoved. He merely waved his hand, as though kindly
admonishing the inquirer to depart and leave him unmolested.
"Nay, good man; I'm not so soon put off. Prithee, save thy wit, for
I'm not i' the humour for a jest this morning."
A melancholy smile accompanied the reply.
"Friend," said he, "I am beholden to thee for thy boat; and if thou
art seeking conditions for the hire, I am willing to return its
equivalent. Will this content thee?"
Here George saw a bit of gold twinkling in the stranger's hand, which,
like a beam on the dark waters, cleared his brow immediately.
He doffed his bonnet with great humility; but he was still curious
about the matter, and more particularly as to what errand could have
been requisite that boisterous morning. He stammered out some inquiry,
and the stranger replied--
"Seek not to know; 'tis a doomed thing and accursed. I would have
given thrice my revenue long ago, to have been rid o' the pest. But
the wave hath swallowed it--for ever, I would earnestly pray; and I am
again free!"
Saying this, he passed on, leaving the astonished fisherman gaping
mute with wonder, until a projecting sandhill shut him out from their
sight. During this interview the dumb assistant was busily engaged
with the boat, disposing of the nets and other implements, though at
the same time evidently keeping a wary eye towards the stranger.
The little bark was soon afloat, the wind again filled the sails, and
shortly she was seen flying over the billows in defiance of "wind,
water, and foul weather."
Grimes only purposed to cast the nets a mile or two from shore, for a
good haul at that period was easily obtained much nearer the coast
than is now practicable, the fish being driven away, as the
inhabitants superstitiously but firmly believe, by the quarrels that
have taken place amongst the fishermen.
The bark went merrily on, leaping over the waves, with the old mariner
at her helm, and his dumb servant by the mainsheet. The wind was
blowing more steadily; the short and squally gusts had increased into
a roaring gale, driving right ahead from the west. To work, however,
they went, when, after a haul or two, the old man being engaged with
the tackling, up came something in the net--at least old Grimes saw it
glittering amongst the fish when he turned round, and it could have
come from none other quarter than the sea.
Grimes drew it forth, and a fair and weighty casket it was, apparently
uninjured. It was ornamented in the arabesque or antique fashion,
inlaid with great care and skill. He grasped the prize; he poised it,
to ascertain its gravity. It seemed to be both heavy and well-filled.
This at last was the treasure he had often dreamt about, and the old
man was almost frantic with joy. He hugged the unlooked-for messenger
of wealth and good-fortune, and, putting the vessel about, made all
sail for land.
Once more anchored as near the beach as the retiring tide would allow,
Grimes was too much engaged with his prize to notice that "Dummy" took
another route to the farm. Alone with his bundle, and a pelting storm
at his heels, the old man came to his dwelling. His early appearance
was unexpected, but the women, little used to question his movements,
immediately set about preparing for dinner. Depositing the casket,
which was locked, in the oaken chest or ark at his bedside, he
purposed to break it open when he had procured the means, without
harming the exterior.
The storm was rapidly gaining strength; the wind blew a hurricane; the
thunder rolled on, louder and more frequent; and the rain came down in
torrents. It was not an ordinary tempest, but more like one of those
tropical tornadoes, when the elements--fire, air, and water--seem to
mingle in universal uproar, fighting and striving for the mastery.
"I think, o' my conscience, this wind is raised by the ould one," said
the elder female. Scarcely were the words uttered when the room seemed
in a blaze, and a clap of thunder followed: so loud and appalling,
that it made the very walls to rock and the whole fabric to reel with
the stroke. The fisherman grew pale; the stranger's words rang in his
ears. Was it the _casket_ that he had committed to the deep, and of
which he spake with such horror and execration? Strange as was the
idea, yet he could not get rid of it; there seemed some connection
between this fearful agony of nature and the mysterious treasure
beneath his roof. The pipe fell from his mouth, and he sat listening,
as he fancied, to the awful denunciations mingled with the howling
storm, as though he had not power to move or to avert his gaze from
the window.
"Bless me, I had forgotten you were by yourself, father," said
Katherine. "He will be almost drowned, if he has not ta'en shelter."
"I know not," muttered Grimes; "he left me on the shore. He might ha'
been here long since." The rain and wind abated for a brief space,
when old Isabel appeared to be listening near the chamber door, where
Grimes had left the casket.
"Mercy! what's that, George?"
The fisherman was immediately all eye and ear; his head bent towards
the door, which stood ajar.
"Who is there in the chamber?" inquired the old woman. "I hear it
again."
"Hear! what?" replied he, in great agitation.
"Something like an' it were a-whispering there," replied the dame.
But a gust of wind again overwhelmed every other sound in its
progress. Grimes thought he had heard a whisper that made his blood
freeze, and the very flesh to creep over his bones with terror.
But Katherine fearlessly entered; she looked cautiously about, but all
was still, and she returned. Ere she closed the door, however, she
heard a soft whisper, as though behind her. Naturally courageous, she
immediately went back, but all was quiet as before; nor could she find
that any person had been concealed in the apartment. She opened the
chest where Grimes had stowed his booty, and seeing the casket, she
took it up, running hastily into the adjoining room.
"Why, father, what a pretty fairing you have brought me. I'se warrant,
now, you would not have told me on't till after the wakes, if I had
not seen it."
The old man looked as if he had seen a ghost. The whispers he had
heard were, foolishly enough perhaps, connected in his mind with the
presence of this mysterious thing.
"Take it back--back, wench, into the chest again. It was not for thee,
hussy. A prize I fished up with the nets to-day."
"From the sea. Oh me! it is--it is unholy spoil. It has been dragged
from some wreck. Cast it again to the greedy waters. They yield not
their prey without a perilous struggle," said the girl.
The fisherman was silent. He looked thoughtful and disturbed, while
Katherine went back to put the treasure into its hiding-place.
"I wonder what that whispering could be?" thought the maiden, as she
opened the old chest. Ere the lid was pulled down, she cast one look
at the beautiful but forbidden intruder, and she was sure--but
imagination is a potent wizard, and works marvellously--else she was
sure that a slight movement was visible beneath the casket. She flung
down the lid in great terror; pale and trembling, she sprang out of
the room, and sat down silent and alarmed. Again the mysterious
whispers were audible in the momentary pauses of the blast.
"Save us!" said the elder female; "I hear it again."
Bounce flew open the door of the bed-chamber, and--in stalked their
dumb assistant, as though he had chosen this mode of ingress, through
the window of the sleeping-room, rather than through the house-door.
"Plague take thee! Where hast thou been?" said the old woman, partly
relieved from her terrors. Yet was the whispering precisely as
incomprehensible as before. The dumb menial that stood before her was
obviously incapable even of this act of incipient speech.
"Where hast thou been, Dick?" inquired Grimes, seriously. But the
former pointed towards the beach.
"How long hast thou been yonder?--in the chamber, I mean."
Dick here fell into one of his ordinary fits of abstraction, from
which neither menace nor entreaty could arouse him. As the old man
turned from the window he saw a blaze of light flashing suddenly upon
the wall. The yard was filled with smoke. Rushing forth, the inmates
found the barn thatch on fire, kindled probably by the lightning. The
rain prevented it from extending with much rapidity; and Grimes,
mounting on the roof, soon extinguished the burning materials before
much damage had been the result. Misfortunes verily seemed to crowd
upon each other; and that unlucky casket, doubtless, was the cause.
When the old man, with his dame, returned into the house, Katherine
was nowhere to be found. The "Dummy," too, was unaccountably absent.
Anxious and wondering, they awaited, hoping for their appearance at
dinner; but their meal was cheerless and unvisited. Evening came,
serene, deceitful as ever--but their child did not return. They went
out to make inquiries, but could find no clue to aid them in the
search. Katherine had never stayed from home so late. The parents were
nigh distracted. There was evidently some connection between the
disappearance of their servant and her own absence. Fearful surmises
ensued. Suspicion strengthened into certainty. The casket was
forgotten in this fearful distress; and, after a fruitless search,
they were forced to return.
On the third night after this occurrence, Grimes and his disconsolate
helpmate were sitting by the turf embers in moody silence, broken only
by irregular whiffs from the pipe--the old man's universal solace.
After a longer pull than usual, he abruptly exclaimed--
"Three days, Isabel, and no tidings of the child. Who will comb down
my grey hairs now, or read for us in the Book o' nights? We must
linger on without help to our grave; none will care to keep us
company."
"Woe's me!" cried the dame, and she wept sore; "my poor child! If I
but knew what was come to her, I think i' my heart I would be
thankfu'. But what can have happen'd her? unless it be Dick indeed;
and yet I think the lad was honest, though lungeous at times, and
odd-tempered. By next market, surely, we shall ha' tidings fra' some
end. But I trow, 'tis that fearsome burden ye brought with you,
George, fra' the sea, that has been the cause of a' this trouble."
Grimes started up. He threw the ashes from his pipe, and, without
saying a word, went into the bed-chamber. Lifting up the chest-lid, he
saw the casket safe, and apparently undisturbed. He drew it fearlessly
forth, and vowed that he would throw it into the sea again, without
further ado, on the morrow. It felt much lighter, however, than
before; but not another night should it pass under his roof; so he
threw it beside a turf-heap in the yard. His heart, too, felt lighter
as he cast the abominable thing from him; and he was sure it was this
mischievous inmate alone that had wrought such woe in his hitherto
happy and quiet household.
Morning came; and Grimes, for the first time since his loss, took the
boat, committing himself alone with the haunted casket on the sea. It
was a lovely morning as ever sun shone upon; the waters were
comparatively smooth; and the tide brought one of those refreshing
breezes on its bosom, so stimulating and healthful to the invalid.
But Grimes thought not of the brightness or beauty of the morning.
With the helm in his hand, one light sail being stretched out to the
wind, he was steering through the intricate channel, and amongst the
sandbanks which render the coast so dangerous even to those best
acquainted with its perils.
He stood out to a considerable distance, intending to have depth and
sea-room enough to drown his burden.
The breeze was fair, the sea was bright, and the mariner sailed on. He
determined, this time at least, that the casket should be sent far
enough out of harm's way.