THE HAND OF FATE.
At the first stroke of noon next day, Arnold arrived at his cousin's
house in Chester Square. He was accompanied by Iris, by Lala Roy, and
by Mr. Frank Farrar.
"Pray, Arnold, what is meant by all this mystery?" asked Clara,
receiving him and his party with considerable surprise.
"I will explain all in a few minutes, my dear Clara. Meanwhile, have
you done what you promised?"
"Yes, I wrote to Dr. Washington. He will be here, I expect, in a few
minutes."
"You wrote exactly in the form of words you promised me?"
"Yes, exactly. I asked him to meet me here this morning at a quarter
past twelve, in order to discuss a few points connected with Iris's
future arrangements, before he left for America, and I wrote on the
envelope, 'Immediate and important.'"
"Very well. He will be sure to come, I think. Perhaps your cousin will
insist upon another check for fifty pounds being given to him."
"Arnold, you are extremely suspicious and most ungenerous about Dr.
Washington, on whose truth and disinterested honesty I thoroughly
rely."
"We shall see. Meanwhile, Clara, I desire to present to you a young
lady of whom we have already spoken. This is Miss Aglen, who is, I
need hardly say, deeply anxious to win your good opinion. And this is
Lala Roy, an Indian gentleman who knew her father, and has lived in
the same house with her for twenty years. Our debt--I shall soon be
able to say your debt--of gratitude to this gentleman for his long
kindness to Miss Aglen--is one which can never be repaid."
Clara gave the most frigid bow to both Iris and Lala Roy.
"Really, Arnold, you are talking in enigmas this morning. What am I to
understand? What has this gentleman to do with my appointment with Dr.
Washington?"
"My dear cousin, I am so happy this morning that I wonder I do not
talk in conundrums, or rondeaux, or terza rima. It is a mere chance, I
assure you. Perhaps I may break out in rhymes presently. This evening
we will have fireworks in the square, roast a whole ox, invite the
neighbors, and dance about a maypole. You shall lead off the dance,
Clara."
"Pray go on, Arnold. All this is very inexplicable."
"This gentleman, however, is a very old friend of yours, Clara. Do you
not recognize Mr. Frank Farrar, who used to stay at the Hall in the
old days?
"I remember Mr. Farrar very well." Clara gave him her hand. "But I
should not have known him. Why have we never met in society during all
these years, Mr. Farrar?"
"I suppose because I have been out of society, Miss Holland," said the
scholar. "When a man marries, and has a large family, and a small
income, and grows old, and has to see the young fellows shoving him
out at every point, he doesn't care much about society. I hope you are
well and happy."
"I am very well, and I ought to be happy, because I have recovered
Claude's lost heiress, my cousin, Iris Deseret, and she is the best
and most delightful of girls, with the warmest heart and the sweetest
instincts of a lady by descent and birth."
She looked severely at Arnold, who said nothing, but smiled
incredulously.
Mr. Farrar looked from Iris to Miss Holland, bewildered.
"And why do you come to see me to-day, Mr. Farrar--and with Arnold?"
"Because I have undertaken to answer one question presently, which Mr.
Arbuthnot is to ask me. That is why I am here. Not but what it gives
me the greatest pleasure to see you again, Miss Holland, after so many
years."
"Our poor Claude died in America, you know, Mr. Farrar."
"So I have recently heard."
"And left one daughter."
"That also I have learned." He looked at Iris.
"She is with me, here in this house, and has been with me for a week.
You may understand, Mr. Farrar, the happiness I feel in having with me
Claude's only daughter."
Mr. Farrar looked from her to Arnold with increasing amazement. But he
said nothing.
"I have appointed this morning, at Arnold's request," Clara went on,
"to have an interview, perhaps the last, with the gentleman who
brought my dear Iris from America. I say, at Arnold's request, because
he asked me to do this, and I have always trusted him implicitly, and
I hope he is not going to bring trouble upon us now, although I do
not, I confess, understand the presence of his friends or their
connection with my cousin."
"My dear Clara," said Arnold again, "I ask for nothing but patience.
And that only for a few moments. As for the papers, you have them all
in your possession?"
"Yes; they are locked up in my strong-box."
"Do not, on any account, give them to anybody. However, after this
morning you will not be asked. Have you taken as yet any steps at all
for the transference of your property to--to the rightful heir?"
"Not yet."
"Thank goodness! And now, Clara, I will ask you, as soon as Dr.
Washington and--your cousin--are in the drawing-room, to ring the
bell. You need not explain why. We will answer the summons, and we
will give all the explanations that may be required."
"I will not have my cousin vexed, Arnold."
"You shall not. Your cousin shall never be vexed by me as long as I
live."
"And Dr. Washington must not be in any way offended. Consider the
feelings of an American gentleman, Arnold. He is my guest."
"You may thoroughly rely upon my consideration for the feelings of an
American gentleman. Go; there is a knock at the door. Go to receive
him, and, when both are in the room, ring the bell."
Joe was in excellent spirits that morning. His interview with Lala Roy
convinced him that nothing whatever was known of the papers, therefore
nothing could be suspected. What a fool, he thought, must be his
grandfather, to have had these papers in his hands for eighteen years
and never to have opened the packet, in obedience to the injunction of
a dead man! Had it been his own case, he would have opened the papers
without the least delay, mastered the contents, and instantly claimed
the property. He would have gone on to use it for his own purposes and
private gain, and with an uninterrupted run of eighteen years, he
would most certainly have made a very pretty thing out of it.
However, everything works well for him who greatly dares. His wife
would manage for him better than he could do it for himself. Yet a few
weeks, and the great fortune would fall into his hands. He walked all
the way to Chester Square, considering how he should spend the money.
There are some forms of foolishness, such as, say, those connected
with art, literature, charity, and work for others, which attract some
rich men, but which he was not at all tempted to commit. There were
others, however, connected with horses, races, betting, and gambling,
which tempted him strongly. In fact, Joseph contemplated spending this
money wholly on his own pleasures. Probably it would be a part of his
pleasure to toss a few crumbs to his wife.
It is sad to record that Lotty, finding herself received with so much
enthusiasm, had already begun to fall off in her behavior. Even Clara,
who thought she discovered every hour some new point of resemblance in
the girl to her father, was fain to admit that the "Americanisms" were
much too pronounced for general society.
Her laugh was louder and more frequent; her jests were rough and
common; she used slang words freely; her gestures were extravagant,
and she walked in the streets as if she wished every one to notice
her. It is the walk of the Music-Hall stage, and the trick of it
consists chiefly in giving, so to speak, prominence to the shoulders
and oscillation to the skirts. In fact, she was one of those ladies
who ardently desire that all the world should notice them.
Further, in her conversation, she showed an acquaintance with certain
phases of the English lower life which was astonishing in an American
girl. But Clara had no suspicion--none whatever. One thing the girl
did which pleased her mightily.
She was never tired of hearing about her father, and his way of
looking, standing, walking, folding his hands, and holding himself.
And constantly more and more Clara detected these little tricks in his
daughter. Perhaps she learned them.
"My dear," she said, "to think that I ever thought you unlike your
dear father!"
So that it made her extremely uncomfortable to detect a certain
reserve in Arnold toward the girl, and then a dislike of Arnold in the
girl herself. However, she was accustomed to act by Arnold's advice,
and consented, when he asked her, to arrange so that Arnold might meet
Dr. Washington. As if anything that so much as looked like suspicion
could be thought of for a moment!
But the bell rang, and Arnold, followed by his party, led the way from
the morning room to the drawing room. Dr. Joseph Washington was
standing with his back to the door. The girl was dressed as if she had
just come from a walk, and was holding Clara's hand.
"Yes, madam," he was saying softly, "I return to-morrow to America,
and my wife and my children. I leave our dear girl in the greatest
confidence in your hands. I only venture to advise that, to avoid
lawyers' expenses, you should simply instruct somebody--the right
person--to transfer the property from your name to the name of Iris.
Then you will be saved troubles and formalities of every kind. As for
me, my home is in America--"
"No, Joseph," said Lala Roy gently; "it is in Shadwell."
"It is a lie!" he cried, starting; "it is an infernal lie!"
"Iris," said Arnold, "lift your veil, my dear. Mr. Farrar, who is this
young lady? Look upon this face, Clara."
"This is the daughter of Claude Deseret," said Mr. Farrar, "if she is
the daughter of the man who married Alice Emblem, and went by the name
of Aglen."
Clara turned a terrified face to Arnold.
"Arnold, help me!"
"Whose face is this?" he repeated.
"It is--good Heavens!--it is the face of your portrait. It is Claude's
face again. They are his very eyes--" She covered her face with her
hands. "Oh, Arnold, what is it! Who is this other?"
"This other lady, Clara, is a Music-Hall Singer, who calls herself
Carlotta Claridane, wife of this man, who is not an American at all,
but the grandson of Mr. Emblem, the bookseller, and therefore cousin
of Iris. It is he who robbed his grandfather of the papers which you
have in your possession, Clara. And this is an audacious conspiracy,
which we have been so fortunate as to unearth and detect, step by
step."
"Oh, can such wickedness be?" said Clara; "and in my house, too?"
"Joe," said Lotty, "the game is up. I knew it wouldn't last."
"Let them prove it," said Joe; "let them prove it. I defy you to prove
it."
"Don't be a fool, Joe," said his wife. "Remember," she whispered,
"you've got a pocketful of money. Let us go peaceably."
"As for you, Nigger," said Joe, "I'll break every bone in your body."
"Not here," said Arnold; "there will be no breaking of bones in this
house."
Lotty began to laugh.
"The gentle blood always shows itself, doesn't it?" she said. "I've
got the real instincts of a lady, haven't I? Oh, it was beautiful
while it lasted. And every day more and more like my father."
"Arnold," cried poor Clara, crushed, "help me!"
"Come," said Arnold, "you had better go at once."
"I won't laugh at you," said Lotty. "It's a shame, and you're a good
old thing. But it did me good, it really did, to hear all about the
gentle blood. Come, Joe. Let us go away quietly."
She took her husband's arm. Joe was standing sullen and desperate. Mr.
Chalker was right. It wanted very little more to make him fall upon
the whole party, and go off with a fight.
"Young woman," said Lala Roy, "you had better not go outside the house
with the man. It will be well for you to wait until he has gone."
"Why? He is my husband, whatever we have done, and I'm not ashamed of
him."
"Is he your husband? Ask him what I meant when I said his home was at
Shadwell."
"Come, Lotty," said Joe, with a curious change of manner. "Let us go
at once."
"Wait," Lala repeated. "Wait, young woman, let him go first.
Pray--pray let him go first."
"Why should I wait? I go with my husband."
"I thought to save you from shame. But if you will go with him, ask
him again why his home is at Shadwell, and why he left his wife."
Lotty sprung upon her husband, and caught his wrists with both hands.
"Joe, what does he mean? Tell me he is a liar."
"That would be useless," said Lala Roy. "Because a very few minutes
will prove the contrary. Better, however, that he should go to prison
for marrying two wives than for robbing his grandfather's safe."
"It's a lie!" Joe repeated, looking as dangerous as a wild boar
brought to bay.
"There was a Joseph Gallop, formerly assistant purser in the service
of the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company," continued
the man of fate, "who married, nine months ago, a certain widow at
Shadwell. He was turned out of the service, and he married her because
she had a prosperous lodging-house."
"Oh--h!" cried Lotty. "You villain! You thought to live upon my
earnings, did you? You put me up to pretend to be somebody else. Miss
Holland"--she fell upon her knees, literally and simply, and without
any theatrical pretense at all--"forgive me! I am properly punished.
Oh, he is made of lies! He told me that the real Iris was dead and
buried, and he was the rightful heir; and as for you"--she sprung to
her feet and turned upon her husband--"I know it is true. I know it is
true--I can see it within your guilty eyes."
"If you have any doubt," said Lala, "here is a copy of the
marriage-certificate."
She took it, read it, and put it in her pocket. Then she went out of
the room without another word, but with rage and revenge in her eyes.
Joseph followed her, saying no more. He had lost more than he thought
to lose. But there was still time to escape, and he had most of the
money in his pocket.
But another surprise awaited him.
The lady from Shadwell, in fact, was waiting for him outside the door.
With her were a few Shadwell friends, of the seafaring profession,
come to see fair play. It was a disgraceful episode in the history of
Chester Square. After five minutes or so, during which no welsher on a
race-course was ever more hardly used, two policemen interfered to
rescue the man of two wives, and there was a procession all the way to
the police-court, where, after several charges of assault had been
preferred and proved against half a dozen mariners, Joseph was himself
charged with bigamy, both wives giving evidence, and committed for
trial.
His old friend, Mr. David Chalker, one is sorry to add, refused to
give bail, so that he remained in custody, and will now endure
hardness for a somewhat lengthened period.
"Clara," said Arnold, "Iris will stay with you, if you ask her. We
shall not marry, my dear, without your permission. I have promised
that already, have I not?"
THE END.
A YACHTSMAN'S YARN.
"I've knocked off the sea now for some years, but I was yachting along
with all sorts of gentlemen and in all sorts of craft, from three to
one hundred and twenty tons, ever since the top of my head was no
higher than your knee; and as boy, man, and master, I'll allow there's
no one who has seen much more than I have. Yet, spite of that, I can
recall but one extraordinary circumstance. Daresay when I've told it
you, you won't believe it; but I sha'n't be able to help that. Truth's
truth, no consequence how sing'lar its appearance may be; and so now
to begin.
"No matter the port, no matter the yacht's name, no matter her owner's
calling, no matter nothing. Terms and dates and the like shall be
imaginary, and so let the vessel be a schooner of one hundred tons
called the 'Evangeline,' and her owner Mr. Robinson, and me, who was
captain of her, Jacob Williams. This'll furnish a creep you may go on
sweeping with till Doomsday without raising what's dead and gone,
though not forgotten, mind ye, from the bottom. Well, for a whole
fortnight had the 'Evangeline' been moored in a snug berth alongside a
pier wall. The English Channel was wide there, and it didn't need much
sailing to find the Atlantic Ocean. I began to think all cruising was
to come to an end; for Mr. Robinson was a man fond of keeping the sea,
and I had never found a fortnight's lying by to his taste at all. But
matters explained themselves after I'd seen him two or three times
walking about with a very fine-looking female party. Mr. Robinson was
a bachelor, his age I dare say about forty, with handsome whiskers,
and one of those voices that show breeding in a man; ay, and the
humblest ear that hears 'em recognizes them. I didn't take much notice
of _her_, though I reckoned her large black eyes the beautifullest I
had ever beheld in a female countenance. She seemed young--not more
than eight-and-twenty--with what they call a fine figure, though,
speaking for myself, I never had much opinion of small waists. Give
me _bong poine_, as my old master, Sir Arthur Jones, used to say; and
he ought to have known, for he had been studying female beauty for
eighty year, and died, I reckon, of it.
"I considered it to be a case of courting, for she was a lady; there
was no mistaking that; she held her head up like one, and dressed as
real ladies do, expensively but plainly--ay, old Jacob knows; he
didn't go yachting for years for nothing. But it wasn't for me to form
opinions. My berth was an easy one--just a sprawl all day long with a
pipe in my mouth, and a good night's rest to follow; and that was all
it was my duty to think about.
"Well, one afternoon Mr. Robinson comes aboard alone, and says to me,
'Williams, at what hour will the tide serve to-morrow night?'
"'Why, sir,' says I, after thinking, 'there'll be plenty of water at
nine o'clock.'
"'Then,' says he, 'see all ready, Williams, to get away to-morrow at
that hour. We're off to ----,' and he names a Mediterranean port.
"Right, sir,' says I, though wondering a bit to myself, for the season
was pretty well advanced, and I couldn't have guessed, from what I
knew and had heard of him, that he would have pushed so far south.
"Well, at half past eight that evening the deck was hailed by a boat
alongside, and up he comes handing a lady on board, thickly veiled,
and they both went below as if they were in a hurry. Some parcels and
a bit of a bandbox or so were chucked up to us by the watermen, who
then shoved off. There was a nice little off-shore breeze a-blowing,
and soon after nine we were clear of the harbor and sailing quietly
along, the sea smooth and the moon rising red out of a smother of
mist. Mr. Robinson came on deck and looked aloft to see what sail was
made; I was at the tiller, and stepping up to me, he says--
"'What d'yer think of the weather, Williams?'
"'Why,' says I, 'it seems as if it was going to keep fair.'
"'There can't come too much wind for me,' says he, 'short of a
hurricane. Don't spare your cloths, let it blow as it may. You
understand that?'
"'Quite easily,' says I.
"Now, this order I took to be as singular as our going to the
Mediterranean, for Mr. Robinson was never a man to carry on; there was
no racing in him; quiet sailing was his pleasure, and what his hurry
was all of a sudden I couldn't imagine, though I guessed that the
party in the cabin might have something to do with it. She came on
deck after we had been under way about three quarters of an hour, this
time without a veil, with what they call a turban hat on her head.
There was plenty of moonlight, and I tell you that the very shadow she
cast, and that lay like a carving of jet on ivory, looked beautiful on
the white deck, so fine her figure was. Lord, how her big eyes
flashed, too, when she drew my way and turned 'em to the moon! Being a
sober, 'spectable man myself, with correct views on the bringing up of
daughters, it seemed to be a queer start that if so be this young lady
was keeping company with Mr. Robinson--being courted by him, you
know--that her mother or some female connection wasn't along with her.
P'raps they were married, I thought; might have been spliced that very
morning. She had no gloves on, and whenever she walked with Mr.
Robinson near to me, I'd take a long squint at her left hand; but
there was no distinguishing a wedding-ring by moonshine, and even had
it been broad daylight it would have been all the same, for the jewels
lay so thick on her fingers you'd have fancied them sparkling with
dew.
"Well, all that night it blew a soft, quiet wind, but for hours next
day 'twas all dead calm, a light swell, the sunlight coming off the
water hot as steam, and the yacht slewing round and round as if, like
the rest of us, she was trying to find out where the wind meant to
come from next. I never saw any man fret more over a calm than Mr.
Robinson did over that. The lady didn't appear discomposed; she sat
under the awning reading, and once when Mr. Robinson turned to look at
her she ran her shining black eyes with a smiling roll around the sea,
that was just the same as if she had said, 'Isn't it big enough?' for
hang me if even I couldn't read the language in them sparklers of hers
when she chose to lift the eyelashes off their meaning, unaccustomed
as Jacob Williams ever was to female ways and the customs they pursue!
But Mr. Robinson couldn't keep quiet. He kept on asking of me when I
thought the wind was coming, and he was constantly getting up and
staring round, and I'd notice he was always letting his cigar go out,
which is a sure sign that either a man don't care about smoking, or
else he's got something weighing upon his spirits. P'raps, thought I,
it's stipulated that he's not to get married anywhere but in the port
we're bound to, and that the license don't run so long as to allow for
calms; but this I said to myself, with a wink at my own thoughts, for,
though there's a good many things in this 'ere yearth that I don't
understand, I must tell you Jacob Williams wasn't born without a mind.
"Well, time went on, and then a head-wind sprung up, with a short,
spiteful sea. I kept the yacht under a press, according to orders, and
the driving of her close-hauled, every luff trembling and the foam to
leeward as high as the rail, fairly smothered the vessel forward;
whilst as to her movements, it was dreary and aching enough, I can
tell you, the wind sweeping out of clouds of spray forward and
splitting with shrieks upon the ropes, and the canvas soaking up the
damp till every stretch might have been owned for the matter of color
by a coalman. 'Twas 'bout ship often enough, Mr. Robinson being full
of anxiety and impatience, and watching the compass for a shift of
wind as if he was a cat and there was a mouse in the binnacle. I could
have sworn the handsome party would have been beam-ended by the dance;
it turned the stomachs of two of the crew, anyhow, and one of them
said that if he had known the 'Evangeline' was to cross the bay, he'd
have found another ship; yet the lady took no notice of the weather.
She'd come up dressed in waterproofs, and her beautiful face shining
with the big eyes in it out of a hood; and the more the sea troubled
the schooner, the more the vessel labored and showed herself uneasy,
the more the lady would look pleased, laughing out at times, with
plenty of music in her voice, I allow, but with a something in it and
in the gleaming stare she'd keep on the plunging and streaming bows,
that made me calculate--don't know why, I'm sure--that lovely as she
was and beautiful as she was shaped, there was no more heart inside of
her than there's pearls in cockles.
"Well, we had two days of this, passing a good many vessels; both
steam and sail, that were getting all they could out of what was
baffling us; then there was a shift of wind; it fell light, everything
turned dry, and we went along with all cloths showing, sailing about
five knots--not more, and I don't think less. When the change of
weather came Mr. Robinson looked more cheerful. Seemed happier, he
did, and I overheard him say to the party as they stood looking over
the starn at the wake that ran away in two white lines with a gull, or
two circling within a stone's throw in waiting for whatever the cook
had to heave overboard--I heard him say:
"'Every mile'll make it more difficult; besides,' says he, with a
sweep of his hand, 'what a waste this is! Williams,' he sings out to
me, 'how fur off's the horizon?'
"'Why,' I answered, 'from this height I should say a matter of six
mile and a half.'"
'And how fur distant, Captain Williams,' says the lady, smiling
sweetly, and pretty nigh confusing my brains by the beautiful look she
gave me, 'would a vessel like ours be seen?'
"I took time to think, with a squint at our mastheads--for we carried
long sticks--and said, 'Well, call it twelve mile, mum. It's
impossible to speak to a nicety.'
"'And what,' I heard Mr. Robinson observe, as I turned away, 'is
twelve miles in this here watery wilderness of leagues?'
"'And then she gave a laugh, as if some one had made her feel glad;
and it was all like music and poetry, I can tell you, her laughing,
and his softness, and the water smooth, and the yacht sailing along as
if she enjoyed it, like a hard-worked vessel out for a holiday.
"Time passed till it come on four o'clock on the afternoon of that
day. There was a redness in the western heavens that betokened more
wind, though the sun still stood high. Meanwhile the breeze hung
steady. There was the smoke of a steamer away on our starboard
quarter, and there was nothing else in sight. I took no notice of it,
for smoke's not uncommon nowadays on the ocean; but whatever the
vessel might be, the glances I'd take at her now and again made me see
she was driving through it properly; for three-quarters of an hour
after we had sighted it, the smoke was abeam, and the funnel raised
up, showing that her course was something to the eastward of ours. I
pointed the glass at her, and made out a yellow chimney and
pole-masts--hull still below the horizon.
"'Either a yacht, sir, or a Government dispatch boat--something of
that kind, sir,' says I to Mr. Robinson, who was sitting near me with
the lady.
"He jumped up and took a look, and whilst he was working away with the
telescope, the breeze comes along right out of the red sky abeam where
the steamer was, with twice its former strength, roughening the blue
water into hollows, and bowing down the yacht till the slope of her
deck was like a roof. The crew jumped about shortening canvas, and the
yacht began to snore as she felt the wind. On a sudden, and as if the
steamer had only just then spied us, she altered her course by three
or four points, as one could see by the swift rising of her hull,
till, whilst the sun was still hanging a middling height over the sea
line, you could see the whole of the vessel--a long, low craft of
about one hundred and fifty tons--sweeping through the seas like an
arrow, the smoke streaming black and fat from her small, yellow
funnel, and her hull sinking out of sight one moment and reappearing
the next in a sort of jump of the whole foaming wash, as if, by Jove,
her screw would thrust her clean out of the water.
"The lady looked at her with a sort of indifference; but Mr. Robinson
was pale enough as he handed me the glass, and said, 'Williams, see if
you know her.'
"I took a look at her, and answered, 'It's hard to tell those steamers
till you see their names, sir; but if she's not the Violet,
belonging to General Coldsteel (of course these are false names),
she's uncommonly like her. But, law bless us! how they're driving
her! Why, there'll be a bust up if they don't look out. They'll blow
the boilers out of her!'"
'Indeed, I never before saw any vessel rush so. She'd shear clear
through some of the larger seas, and you didn't need watch her long to
make you reckon you'd seen the last of her. Then Mr. Robinson, talking
like a man half in a rage, half in a fright, orders me to pack sail on
the schooner; but it was already blowing a single-reef breeze, and I
had no idea of losing our spars, and so I told him very firmly that
the yacht had all she needed, and that more would only stop her by
burying her: and I had my way. But we were foaming through it, too; we
wanted no more pressure; the freshening wind had worked the schooner
into a fair nine knots, and it was first-rate sailing too, considering
the character of the sea and the weight of the breeze. 'Twas now
certain beyond all question that the steamer meant to close us, though
I thought she had a queer way of doing it, for sometimes she'd head
right at us, and then put her helm down and keep on a course parallel
with ours, forging well ahead and then shifting the helm for a fresh
run at us. There was no anxiety that I could see in the lady's looks,
but Mr. Robinson was quite mightily bothered and worried and pale
enough to make me suppose that all this meant a pursuit, with a
capture to follow; and it was certain that whatever intentions the
steamer had, there was nothing in the night which was approaching to
promise us a chance of sneaking clear, for the sky was pure as glass,
and it wouldn't be long after sundown before the moon would be filling
the air with a light like morning.
Well, sir, fathom by fathom the steamer had her way of us. She had
drawn close enough to let Mr. Robinson make out the people abroad. As
for me, I was at the helm; for there was something in the maneuvering
of the steamer that made me suspicious, and I wasn't going to trust
any man but myself at the tiller. We held on as we were; we couldn't
improve the schooner's speed by bringing the wind anywhere else than
where it was; and no good was to be done by cracking on, even though
it had, come to our dragging what we couldn't carry; for the steamer's
speed was a fair fourteen if it was a mile, and our yacht was not
going to do that, you know, or anything like it. The moon had arisen,
and the sea ran like heaving snow from the windward, and by this time
the steamer was about half a mile ahead of us, about three points on
the weather bow. She was as plain as if daylight lay on her. All the
time the party and Mr. Robinson had kept the deck, she taking a view
now and then of the steamer with an opera-glass.
"Suddenly I yelled out, 'Mr. Robinson, by all that's holy, sir, that
vessel there means to run us down! Lads,' I shouted, 'tumble aft
quick, and see the boats all ready for lowering!'
"The lady jumped up with a scream, and seized hold of Mr. Robinson's
arm, who seeming to forget what he was about, shook her off, and fell
to raving to me to see that the steamer didn't touch us. By thunder,
sir, there was the cowardly brute slanting her flying length as though
to cross our hawse, but clearly aiming to strike us right amidships.
I shouted to the men to make ready and 'bout ship, and a minute after
I shoved the tiller over, and the yacht rounded like a woman waltzing.
But before we had gathered way the steamer was after us. The lady sent
up scream after scream. Mr. Robinson stood motionless, seeing as plain
as I that if the steamer meant to sink us there was no seamanship in
this wide world that could stop her; and I saw the men throwing off
their shoes and half stripping themselves, ready for what was to come.
"The steamer headed dead to strike our weather-beam; she rushed at us
with the foam boiling over her bows; once more I chucked the schooner
right up into the wind, and the steamer went past us like a rocket
under our stern. I looked at her and sha'n't ever forget what I saw.
There was a white-haired man, with white whiskers and bareheaded,
roaring and raging at us in the grasp of three or four seamen. 'Twas
like a death-struggle. A chap who looked as if he had just seized the
wheel was grinding it hard over to get away from us; and so the
steamer fled past, more like a nightmare than a reality, and in a few
minutes was standing with full speed to the norrard, where, in less
than a quarter of an hour, she faded slick out of sight.
"It was some time after I had left the 'Evangeline' and was at home
before I got to know the meaning of this here wonderful adventure. The
party, it turned out, was no less than the wife of the general as
owned the 'Violet,' and she was running away with Mr. Robinson. May be
our men had talked about our going to the Mediterranean, but anyhow
the general who was in London at the time, got scent that his wife had
bolted with Mr. Robinson in the 'Evangeline,' and in less than
twenty-four hours he was after us in his steamer. He tracked us by
speaking the vessels we passed; and the light airs and calms we had
encountered easily allowed him to overhaul quickly. And it turned out
that when he had fairly sighted us, he sent the man at the wheel
forward, and took the helm himself. The crew dursn't express their
wonder aloud, though they knew he was no hand at steering, not to
mention the mad agitation he was in, and they let him have his way
when he headed the steamer for us, expecting that he merely wished to
close us in order to speak; but when I put my helm down and the
steamer passed, and they spied the general rounding his craft
evidently to run us down, they threw themselves upon him to save their
own lives as well as ours. That was the sight I saw as the steamer
rushed past. A few moments after they had gone clear the poor old
fellow was seized with an attack of apoplexy, which killed him right
off, and thereupon they headed right away to England with the dead
body aboard.
"What do you think of this for a yarn? Would any one suppose such
vengefulness could exist in a white-haired man that had known his
seventieth birthday? What did he want to go and try and drown me and
my mates for? _We_ weren't running away with the female party. But the
world's full of romantic capering, sir; and I tell you what it
is--'tain't all fair sailing even in yachts, modest and pretty as the
divarsion is."