"this mischief had not happened." He looked at it, and thought again,
"How very sad to part with so beautiful a treasure." He had not
observed before that the lid was unlocked. He might as well peep
before it should be hidden for ever beneath the dark billows. He
lifted up the rim of the coffer cautiously; he trembled as the hinges
gave way; and--it was empty!
"I am a fool!" thought he; "a downright fool. An empty box can have
nothing to do with"----
But, as if to belie his own conclusions, and to convince him that
peril, and misfortune must attend the presence of that mysterious
thing, he having just quitted the helm for a more convenient
examination, a sudden squall nearly upset the boat. Fortunately she
righted, but not before most of the movables were tossed out,
including the cause of all his troubles. This at any rate was lucky,
and cheaply purchased with the loss and breakage of his marine stores.
The tide was still coming in, though nearly at the height, and Grimes
floated merrily to land. After hauling the boat ashore, he stood for
a moment looking towards the sea, when he saw, dancing like a spectre
on the very edge of the wave that broke in a thousand bubbles at his
feet, the identical box he had taken such pains to commit to the safe
keeping of that perilous deep. It was evidently pursuing him. He would
have fled, but fear had arrested his footsteps. He did not recollect
that the box was now empty, and floated from its own buoyancy.
"It will not drown," thought he. After a little reflection he resolved
to dispose of it in some other manner.
"It will haunt me as long as it is above ground. I'll bury it." In
pursuance of this wholesome resolve, he took it home again. Digging a
deep grave in the peat-moss behind this cottage, he thrust in the
object of his apprehensions, trusting that he was now safe from its
power.
But noises horrid and unaccountable disturbed him. Demons had surely
chosen his dwelling for their head-quarters. Nor day nor night could
he rest--fancying that a whole legion of them were haunting him. He
seemed to be the sport and prey of his own terrors; and with a heavy
heart he resolved to quit, though suffering a grievous loss by the
removal.
The story of the haunted casket, with many additions and improvements,
soon got abroad. No one dared to pass the house after nightfall, and
"The Lost Farm" has ever since been tenantless.
Grimes removed to another in a few weeks; but his happiness and his
hopes were for ever dissipated by the mysterious intruder. Hearing no
tidings from his daughter, he determined, several weeks after the
adventure, to sally forth in quest of intelligence.
It was a cold blustery morning when the old man set out on his errand.
He was clad in a coarse blue frieze coat, with the usual complement of
large white-plated buttons. His head was sheltered by an oil
case-covered hat, tied down with a blue and white check handkerchief,
and he held a long stick before him at arm's length, on which his
sorrowful and drooping frame hung more heavily than usual. He had
grown a dozen years older at least in less than as many weeks; and
when he came to Church Town, having taken the bypath through the
hills, he was fain to rest himself a while at the inn-door. Before it
stood several carts on their way towards Preston, whither they were
bound for the disposal of their produce on the morrow. Grimes thought
he might as well make some inquiries there; Katherine having at times
visited that remote town to make purchases. He would have company too
if he went with the carts, and a lift now and then if he were tired;
so, throwing down his bundle, he entered the house intimating his wish
that they should join company.
"To Preston, lad?" said a jolly carter, holding a pewter pot that
seemed as if glued to his hard fist. "Rare doings there, old one.
What! thee wants to look at the fun, I warrant. Why, the rebels ha'
been packed off to Lunnun long sin'; but we han had some on 'em back
again; that is, thou sees, their Papist heads were sent back i' pickle
into these parts, and one on 'em grins savagely afore the Town Ha'."
Grimes knew little of political niceties, or whether kings _de facto_
or _de jure_ were better entitled to the throne.
The late disturbances had not reached these districts; so that the
rebellion of 1745 might as well have happened in Kamtschatka or Japan
for any personal knowledge that old Grimes had of the matter.
"Rebels!" said he; "I have heard a somewhat of this business; though I
know nothing, and care less about them cannibals."
"Then what be'st thee for in such a hurry to Preston?"
"I had a daughter, but she has left me, the staff and comfort of my
old age, when I stood most in need of the prop!" Here the old man drew
his hat over his brows, partly turning aside.
"Cheer up, friend," saith another; "thy daughter, maybe, is gone wi'
Prince Charlie, when he piped through Preston 'Hie thee, Charlie, hame
again!'"
This malicious sally raised a loud laugh; but the old man heard it
with great agony and consternation; for though a bow drawn at a
venture--a chance expression merely, intended as a clever hit at the
women's expense, who had followed in the train of the rebels--Grimes
construed the passage literally; and from that time it ran continually
in his head, that his daughter's absence would be found to have some
connection with these events.
"Hang thy jibes!" said the first speaker, for whom this piece of wit
was more especially intended; "hang thee, I'll knock thy neck
straight; pepper me but I will!"
This worthy had a wife, who incontinently had contributed to augment
the rebel train when the Prince, in far different plight, on the 27th
of November 1745, passed through Preston, on his route to London,
piping "The king shall have his own again."
A fray was nigh commencing--a circumstance not at all unusual in those
turbulent times--but the master of the band speedily interfered,
threatening displeasure and a wholesome discipline to his refractory
servants.
Grimes accompanied them on their journey, riding, walking, and
gossiping, at irregular intervals; during which he learned much news
relating to the aspect and circumstances of the time, the names of the
leaders, and those attainted and condemned, in this hasty and
ill-timed rebellion. A considerable number of Lancashire partisans,
officers of the Manchester regiment, commanded by Colonel Townley, had
been conveyed to London, and tried for high treason, in July 1746.
Some were reprieved and pardoned; others were executed, with all the
horrid accompaniments prescribed by the law. The heads of Townley and
one Captain Fletcher were placed upon Temple Bar. The heads of seven
others, having been preserved in spirits, were at that time
ornamenting posterns and public thoroughfares in Manchester, Preston,
Wigan, and Carlisle, to the great comfort of the loyal and
well-disposed, and the grievous terror of the little children who
passed in and out thereat. Others, the noble leaders of this short and
ill-acted tragedy for the benefit of the selfish and bigoted Stuarts,
suffered death; while others escaped, amongst whom was the titular
Earl of Derwentwater, supposed to have been conveyed secretly aboard
ship for Scotland.
In these rebellions, it may generally be said, that in the county of
Lancaster, Catholics as well as Protestants displayed a firm
attachment to the reigning family. Instances of defection were very
rare; and, when they occurred, might be imputed to some peculiarity in
the situation of the delinquents rather than to party or religious
feelings. The romantic attempt of the young Chevalier, as displayed in
this rebellion, had in it something imposing to ardent and
enthusiastic minds; and those who embraced his cause south of the
Tweed were principally young men of warm temperament, whose
imaginations were dazzled by the chivalrous character of the
enterprise.[17]
About the close of day, the towers of "proud Preston" were seen rising
above the broad sweep of the river below Penwortham Bridge. The
situation chosen by our ancestors for the erection of "_Priest's
Town_"--so called because the majority of its inhabitants in former
times were ecclesiastics--evinces the discriminating eye of a priest,
and shows that, whether the religious orders selected a site for an
abbey or for a city, they were equally felicitous in their choice.
Placed at a convenient distance from the sea, upon the elevated banks
of one of the finest rivers in England, with a mild climate and a dry
soil, and commanding a rich assemblage of picturesque views, in one of
the most interesting portions of Ribblesdale, the spirit of St Wilfred
himself, to whom the parish church is dedicated, and who was the most
accomplished ecclesiastic of his age, must have animated the mind that
fixed upon this spot.[18]
Grimes, adjusting his satchel and other appendages, trudged warily on,
according to the directions he had procured from his guides, in
respect to lodgings. His route lay up Fishergate; and on his way, near
the Town Hall, his progress was interrupted by a dense crowd. The
soldiers and local authorities were just conveying a prisoner of some
note from the hall of justice to head-quarters at the Bull Inn, under
a strong guard.
Grimes, impelled by curiosity, and likewise having an idea that it
might be one of the rebels, with whom he still connected the
disappearance of his daughter, thrust himself, edgeways, into the
crowd; his primitive appearance causing no slight merriment amongst
the bystanders.
Guarded by soldiery and a bevy of constables before and behind, came a
tall, muscular figure, attired in a ragged suit--probably a disguise,
and not of the most reputable or becoming description. He looked
haggard and dejected--harassed, in all likelihood, by long watching
and fatigue. His hair was intensely black, surmounted by a coarse cap
or bonnet, such as the mechanics then wore at their ordinary
occupations.
The old man looked steadfastly at the prisoner.
"Surely it cannot be!" said he half-aloud. He pressed into the
foremost rank, and near enough to receive a lusty blow from one of the
constables; but not before he had, with an exclamation of joy and
astonishment, recognised the features of his former servant and dumb
inmate at the farm.
Grimes, caring not a whit for the blow, in his ready and imprudent
zeal stepped up to the leader of the party, thinking there was
doubtless some mistake in the person they had seized, and anxious,
too, for an opportunity of speaking with the prisoner anent his
errand.
"Stand back!" said the official representative gruffly.
"Friend, I know thy prisoner well. He was lodged and victualled at my
house not six weeks agone."
"The ---- he was; then we may as well try a hand with thee too," said
the constable.
But the simplicity and openness of the old man was his protection; for
the constable walked on, without deigning to bend his truncheon to
such low and inglorious enterprise.
"But look thee," said the pertinacious and unsuspecting fisherman, "he
is my servant; and you are i' the wrong to capture him without my
privity."
"And who art thou?" inquired another of these myrmidons of justice,
eyeing Grimes and the cut of his habiliments from head to foot. "I do
bethink me thou art i' the roll. Thee would make a grim fixture for a
pole here hard by." He looked significantly towards the reward of
treason hung in front of the Town Hall above them.
"Like enough!" said the other, taking the offender by the collar; who,
astonished beyond measure at this proceeding, was unable for a while
to give such an account of himself as to satisfy the officers and
regain his liberty. The prisoner looked at him, but did not betray the
least symptom of acknowledgment.
"Ill-mannered varlet!" thought the old man; "but what can they be
a-wanting with our Dummy?"
Still urged on by the crowd, he resolved to see an end of the
business; so, pushing with them through the gateway of the inn, he
came so near the prisoner as to touch him gently by the sleeve during
the press and scuffle in the entry. For a moment--and it was a glance
observed by the fisherman alone--the pale features of the unfortunate
rebel showed a glimpse of recognition; but immediately they relapsed
into their former stern though melancholy expression.
Being much amazed at this conduct, the old man could not forbear
exclaiming--
"Varlet!--my daughter--thou"----But the prisoner was out of sight and
hearing, and the crowd were driven from the gateway. Grimes heard a
few of the bystanders speaking of some great man that was taken, and
of the reward that would be obtained for his apprehension; but the old
fisherman smiled at their ignorance. He knew better. It was none other
than his dumb retainer at the farm; and he set his wits to work--no
despicable auxiliaries at a pinch--in order to procure an interview.
In vain he attempted to persuade such of the crowd as would give him a
hearing of the real state of the case, and the great injustice of the
man's arrest. But they listened to him with impatience and suspicion.
The old man was doubtless either crazed or guilty as one of the rebel
partisans.
"I tell thee what, old crony; if thou dost not change thy quarters, we
will lay thee by the heels i' the cage, presently. Budge! move, quick;
or"----Here the speaker, a little authoritative-looking personage,
would have made a movement corresponding to the words; but Grimes,
perceiving that he was not to be trifled with, unwillingly drew aside
out of harm's way.
Hungry, weary, and dispirited, the old man inquired his way to an
obscure lodging in one of the wynds near the market. It was a low,
dismal-looking tavern, wherein sat two or three unwashed artificers,
drinking beer and devouring the news.
"I'm right fain he's taken," said one of the politicians, whose black
leathern apron and smutty face betokened his occupation. "There's but
old Lovat, they say, now, to chop shorter by a handful of brains.
Proud Preston, say I, for ever. Hurra!"
"Ay, and the mayor's wife too, say I; and may she never want a pair of
garters to tuck round a rebel's neck!" replied a little giggling,
good-humoured fellow, who seemed to imbibe ale as he drew his
breath--both being vitally necessary to his existence.
"She's a rare wench, and would sooner see a rebel hanged, than bod her
nose at a basin of swig and roasted apples."
"She played the husband's part to some purpose when Charles Edward
levied the tribute forsooth, Mr Mayor being gone to look after his
children, by Longridge; but old Sam the beadle says he was afeard o'
the wild Highlanders, and slunk out of the way."
Whilst this conversation was going on Grimes untied his handkerchief,
doffed his stocking boots, and embracing his satchel, drew forth a
piece of hard, unsavoury cheese, and some barley-cake, with which he
proceeded to entertain, if not satisfy, his stomach. A glass of beer
finished this frugal repast, when the old man retired into the shadow
of a huge projecting chimney, ruminating on the perplexities by which
he was encompassed, and on the possibility of his final extrication.
Opposite to him, in the shadow, as if shunning observation, sat
another person who appeared wishful to avoid any intercourse with the
guests. Grimes stretched his gaunt figure on a bench beside the
hearth, as though desirous to let in the dark waters of oblivion upon
his spirit.
The hostess was bustling in and out, doubtless impatient at this
prolonged stay when the cup was empty; and, in one of these inspectory
visits, the old man addressed her, scarcely raising his contemplative
gaze from the embers, where he had been poking his eyes out for the
last half-hour.
"I want a bed for the night, good dame."
"We have none to spare," said the dissatisfied landlady--"for such
guests as thee," perhaps she would have added, but the stranger from
the opposite corner interrupted her.
"He shall have mine: I can lie on the squab."
The voice of the speaker was soft and musical, apparently in a
disguised tone.
"You're very kind, sir," said the hostess; "but this over-thrifty
customer may find other guess places i' the town; unless, indeed, he
chooses to pay handsomely for the lodging."
"And then, maybe," said the stranger, "the siller would find out a bed
to lie in."
"I could lend him mine, perhaps," returned the accommodating landlady.
"Then here's a crown," said the other, "and let the old man be both
fed and bedded. I have money enough; and his purse, I think, is not
overstocked with provision, if we may guess by the lining of his
wallet."
The dame, growing courteous in an instant, promised as good a bed as
King George himself slept in that blessed night. The astonished
fisherman could hardly credit his senses. He thanked his stars for
this unexpected interposition; nor would he refuse the gift, though
from the hands of a stranger.
The latter shortly afterwards retired to rest; and the political
weaver and blacksmith, having settled the hanging, drawing, and
quartering of the unfortunate prisoner, not without a full and
minute-description of this disgusting and barbarous, though to them
diverting process, called for a parting cup, to drink confusion to the
rebels and a speedy dismissal to the Chevalier.
Old Grimes retired also; and in a low wide room, white-washed and
bare-walled, containing a broken chair, two-thirds of a table, and a
bed without tester, covered with a thick blue quilt, was deposited the
mortal fabric of the weary fisherman.
He could not sleep for a considerable time; the strange events he had
witnessed, the excitement he had undergone, together with the rude
brawls beneath his window, prevented him from closing his eyes until
past midnight. He heard not a few loyal home-made songs, by the
red-hot braggarts, pot-valiant and full of "gentle minstrelsie," as
they trolled lustily past his lodging. Amongst many others, the
following seemed an especial favourite:--
1.
"Down wi' the Papists an' a', man,
Down wi' the priest and confession;
Down wi' the Charlies an' a', man,
And up wi' the Duke an' the nation.
2.
"There's Townley, an' Fletcher, an' Syddal,
And Nairn, wi' his breeks wrang side out, man;
Some ran without breeks to their middle,
But Charlie ran fastest about, man."
After a while, the sounds began to mingle confusedly with the images
floating on his own sensorium. He felt as though unable to separate
them: ideal forms took up the real impressions, and arrayed themselves
so cunningly withal, that to his mind's eye the image of his daughter
seemed to approach. The brawling ceased; the room was lighted up. It
was his own chamber, and Katherine sprang towards him, smiling as she
was wont, for her usual "Good-night." "God bless thee, my child!" said
he, as he threw his arms about her. Starting up, awake, at the sound
of his own voice, he found that he had not grasped a shadow; but a
being, real and substantial, was in his embrace. Grimes was horribly
alarmed.
"Father, it is I," said a soft whisper. It was the voice of his
daughter.
"Hush!" said she; "be silent, for your life and mine. You shall know
all; but not now. Fear not for me. I'm safe; but I will not leave
_him_--my companion--yonder unfortunate captive. Help me, and I'll
contrive his rescue."
"_Thy_ companion, wench! why, how is this? Art"----
"Honest and true, as he is faithful. We may yet be happy as we once
were, when this fearful extremity is past. Say no more; we may be
overheard. Now aid me; for without our help he is lost! and, oh,
refuse not this one, perhaps this last request of thy child!"
She fell upon his neck, and the old man was moved to an unwonted
expression of tenderness; for truly his daughter was dearer to him
than any earthly object; and still dearer in the moment when the lost
one was restored.
"To-morrow night," said the maiden, "bring your boat, with four stout
rowers, to the quay at Preston Marsh. Let me see; ay, the moon is near
two days old, and the tide will serve from nine till midnight. You
know the channel well, and wait there until I come."
"Kattern, thou shall go with me. I'll not leave thee now."
"Nay," said the faithful girl; "I must not; I _will_ not. There is
life depending on my endeavours. Father," continued she, throwing her
arms round the old man's neck, who now sobbed aloud, "hear me; no
power shall force me to leave him now in misery and misfortune. I
would move the very stones for his rescue; and cannot I move thee?"
"Well, Kattern, I am a silly and a weak old body, and thou--But thou
art disguised. Where didst get that coat? and--I declare--trousers.
For shame, wench!"
"Nay, you shall know all, father, when I return; when we have
delivered him, and not before."
The old man was too much overjoyed not to promise the requisite
attendance.
"My life depends on 't, father; so good-night."
"Stay--stay, wench--a moment!"
But a light step, and the sound of a gently-closing door, announced
her departure; and Grimes was forced to remain, where he lay sleepless
on his pallet, impatiently awaiting daybreak.
With the first peep of dawn was old Grimes astir; and the lark was but
just fluttering from the dew when the quaint, angular form of the
mariner was again seen plodding towards the coast.
"Since that plaguy box came into my fingers, I've had neither rest nor
luck. I'll ne'er meddle with stray goods again while I live!" and in
this comfortable determination he continued, thinking of his bonny
Kattern to lighten the toil of his long and lonesome journey.
The same day the sun lighted early on the towers and gables of "Proud
Preston." Longridge Fell threw off its wreath of mist; but on the
river a long and winding vapour followed its course, everything
betokening one of those pure, exhilarating days that so rarely visit
our watery and weeping regions.
* * * * *
The mayor was but just awakened; yet Mrs Mayor had long been
vigilantly engaged in household and political affairs (for she ruled
the civic power in Preston's thrice happy borough), when a stranger
came on some business of importance.
"What is your will, my good friend?" inquired the mayoress, taking off
a light pair of shagreen-mounted spectacles; for being of that
debatable age when time is hardly known by his advances on the person,
having just mounted these helps occasionally, as she said, when
mending a pen or sewing fine work, she cared not to show that they
were in use at other seasons more germane to their purpose.
"I would have a word in private with the mayor."
"Mr Mayor has no words in private that come not through his lady's
ear. Once more, your business?"
"I must see him, and alone," said the intruder.
"_Must_ see him?" replied the female diplomatist; "I tell you that you
shall not see him before I am acquainted with the cause. I hear your
master on the floor above," said she to a servant who had just
entered; "tell him he need not hurry down; breakfast is not yet
ready."
The servant retired as he was bid; but, having heard more of the
foregoing colloquy than his mistress intended, the message, as
delivered to his worship, was of an opposite tenor from what he had
been charged with. The stranger continued firm in his determination
not to divulge his errand; and the anxiety of the ruling power to
ascertain his motive would not suffer her to dismiss him.
Great was the disappointment and dark the storm on the lady's brow,
when, beslippered and begowned, came in hastily the chief magistrate
of this ancient borough.
"A word in your worship's ear," said the stranger; "my time is short
and the affair is urgent."
"Speak out; my wife shares the burdens of this office, and,
indeed"----
"But, sir, I crave an audience in private. Should you not grant my
request, there be other ears shall have the benefit of what is meant
for your own."
The magistrate quailed before the terrors of his wife's frown; but
however dangerous the duty--and it was fraught with no ordinary
peril--still, in his official capacity, he could not refuse to grant
the stranger a private interview.
The mayor was a round, full-eyed personage, whose cheek and nose
displayed the result of many a libation to the jolly god.
Short-legged, short-breathed, and full-paunched, he strode, quick and
laborious, like a big-bellied cask set in motion, as if glad to
escape, into a small back chamber, furnished with two stools, a desk,
and sundry big books--implements in use only as touching his private
affairs.