Scarcely had the soldiers performed their task, and thrown down their
shovels, when they commenced an altercation. It appeared that this
money was to be again the cause of slaughter and bloodshed. Philip
and Krantz determined to sail immediately in one of the peroquas,
and leave them to settle their disputes as they pleased. He asked
permission of the soldiers to take from the provisions and water,
of which there was ample supply, a larger proportion than was their
share; stating, that he and Krantz had a long voyage and would require
it, and pointing out to them that there were plenty of cocoa-nuts
for their support. The soldiers, who thought of nothing but their
newly-acquired wealth, allowed him to do as he pleased; and having
hastily collected as many cocoa-nuts as they could, to add to their
stock of provisions, before noon Philip and Krantz had embarked, and
made sail in the peroqua, leaving the soldiers with their knives again
drawn, and so busy in their angry altercation as to be heedless of
their departure.
"There will be the same scene over again, I expect," observed Krantz,
as the vessel parted swiftly from the shore.
"I have little doubt of it; observe, even now they are at blows and
stabs."
"If I were to name that spot, it should be the '_Accursed Isle_.'"
"Would not any other be the same, with so much to inflame the passions
of men?"
"Assuredly: what a curse is gold!"
"And what a blessing!" replied Krantz. "I am sorry Pedro is left with
them."
"It is their destiny," replied Philip; "so let's think no more of
them. Now what do you propose? With this vessel, small as she is, we
may sail over these seas in safety; and we have, I imagine, provisions
sufficient for more than a month."
"My idea is to run into the track of the vessels going to the
westward, and obtain a passage to Goa."
"And if we do not meet with any, we can at all events proceed up the
Straits as far as Pulo Penang without risk. There we may safely remain
until a vessel passes."
"I agree with you; it is our best, nay our only place; unless, indeed,
we were to proceed to Cochin, where junks are always leaving for Goa."
"But that would be out of our way, and the junks cannot well pass us
in the Straits without their being seen by us."
They had no difficulty in steering their course; the islands by day,
and the clear stars by night, were their compass. It is true that
they did not follow the more direct track, but they followed the more
secure, working up through the smooth waters, and gaining to the
northward more than to the west. Many times were they chased by the
Malay proas, which infested the islands, but the swiftness of their
little peroqua was their security; indeed the chase was, generally
speaking, abandoned, as soon as the smallness of the vessel was made
out by the pirates, who expected that little or no booty was to be
gained.
That Amine and Philip's mission was the constant theme of their
discourse, may easily be imagined. One morning, as they were sailing
between the isles, with less wind than usual, Philip observed:--
"Krantz, you said that there were events in your own life, or
connected with it, which would corroborate the mysterious tale I
confided to you. Will you now tell me to what you referred?"
"Certainly," replied Krantz; "I have often thought of doing so, but
one circumstance or another has hitherto prevented me; this is,
however, a fitting opportunity. Prepare therefore to listen to a
strange story, quite as strange, perhaps, as your own.
"I take it for granted, that you have heard people speak of the Hartz
Mountains," observed Krantz.
"I have never heard people speak of them that I can recollect,"
replied Philip; "but I have read of them in some book, and of the
strange things which have occurred there."
"It is indeed a wild region," rejoined Krantz, "and many strange tales
are told of it; but, strange as they are, I have good reason for
believing them to be true. I have told you, Philip, that I fully
believe in your communion with the other world--that I credit the
history of your father, and the lawfulness of your mission; for that
we are surrounded, impelled, and worked upon by beings different in
their nature from ourselves, I have had full evidence, as you will
acknowledge, when I state what has occurred in my own family. Why such
malevolent beings as I am about to speak of should be permitted to
interfere with us, and punish, I may say, comparatively unoffending
mortals, is beyond my comprehension; but that they are so permitted is
most certain."
"The great principle of all evil fulfils his work of evil; why, then,
not the other minor spirits of the same class?" inquired Philip. "What
matters it to us, whether we are tried by, and have to suffer from,
the enmity of our fellow-mortals, or whether we are persecuted by
beings more powerful and more malevolent than ourselves? We know
that we have to work out our salvation, and that we shall be judged
according to our strength; if then there be evil spirits who delight
to oppress man, there surely must be, as Amine asserts, good spirits,
whose delight is to do him service. Whether, then, we have to struggle
against our passions only, or whether we have to struggle not only
against our passions, but also the dire influence of unseen enemies,
we ever struggle with the same odds in our favour, as the good are
stronger than the evil which we combat. In either case we are on the
'vantage ground, whether, as in the first, we fight the good cause
single-handed, or as in the second, although opposed, we have the host
of Heaven ranged on our side. Thus are the scales of Divine Justice
evenly balanced, and man is still a free agent, as his own virtuous or
vicious propensities must ever decide whether he shall gain or lose
the victory."
"Most true," replied Krantz, "and now to my history.
"My father was not born, or originally a resident, in the Hartz
Mountains; he was the serf of an Hungarian nobleman, of great
possessions, in Transylvania; but, although a serf, he was not by
any means a poor or illiterate man. In fact, he was rich, and his
intelligence and respectability were such, that he had been raised
by his lord to the stewardship; but, whoever may happen to be born a
serf, a serf must he remain, even though he become a wealthy man; such
was the condition of my father. My father had been married for about
five years; and, by his marriage, had three children--my eldest
brother Caesar, myself (Hermann), and a sister named Marcella. You
know, Philip, that Latin is still the language spoken in that country;
and that will account for our high sounding names. My mother was a
very beautiful woman, unfortunately more beautiful than virtuous: she
was seen and admired by the lord of the soil; my father was sent away
upon some mission; and, during his absence, my mother, flattered by
the attentions, and won by the assiduities, of this nobleman,
yielded to his wishes. It so happened that my father returned very
unexpectedly, and discovered the intrigue. The evidence of my mother's
shame was positive: he surprised her in the company of her seducer!
Carried away by the impetuosity of his feelings, he watched the
opportunity of a meeting taking place between them, and murdered both
his wife and her seducer. Conscious that, as a serf, not even the
provocation which he had received would be allowed as a justification
of his conduct, he hastily collected together what money he could lay
his hands upon, and, as we were then in the depth of winter, he put
his horses to the sleigh, and taking his children with him, he set
off in the middle of the night, and was far away before the tragical
circumstance had transpired. Aware that he would be pursued, and that
he had no chance of escape if he remained in any portion of his native
country (in which the authorities could lay hold of him), he continued
his flight without intermission until he had buried himself in the
intricacies and seclusion of the Hartz Mountains. Of course, all that
I have now told you I learned afterwards. My oldest recollections are
knit to a rude, yet comfortable cottage, in which I lived with my
father, brother, and sister. It was on the confines of one of those
vast forests which cover the northern part of Germany; around it were
a few acres of ground, which, during the summer months, my father
cultivated, and which, though they yielded a doubtful harvest, were
sufficient for our support. In the winter we remained much in doors,
for, as my father followed the chase, we were left alone, and the
wolves, during that season, incessantly prowled about. My father
had purchased the cottage, and land about it, of one of the rude
foresters, who gain their livelihood partly by hunting, and partly
by burning charcoal, for the purpose of smelting the ore from the
neighbouring mines; it was distant about two miles from any other
habitation. I can call to mind the whole landscape now: the tall pines
which rose up on the mountain above us, and the wide expanse of forest
beneath, on the topmost boughs and heads of whose trees we looked down
from our cottage, as the mountain below us rapidly descended into the
distant valley. In summertime the prospect was beautiful; but during
the severe winter, a more desolate scene could not well be imagined.
"I said that, in the winter, my father occupied himself with the
chase; every day he left us, and often would he lock the door, that we
might not leave the cottage. He had no one to assist him, or to take
care of us--indeed, it was not easy to find a female servant who would
live in such a solitude; but, could he have found one, my father would
not have received her, for he had imbibed a horror of the sex, as the
difference of his conduct towards us, his two boys, and my poor little
sister, Marcella, evidently proved. You may suppose we were sadly
neglected; indeed, we suffered much, for my father, fearful that we
might come to some harm, would not allow us fuel, when he left the
cottage; and we were obliged, therefore, to creep under the heaps of
bears'-skins, and there to keep ourselves as warm as we could until he
returned in the evening, when a blazing fire was our delight. That my
father chose this restless sort of life may appear strange, but the
fact was that he could not remain quiet; whether from remorse for
having committed murder, or from the misery consequent on his change
of situation, or from both combined, he was never happy unless he
was in a state of activity. Children, however, when left much to
themselves, acquire a thoughtfulness not common to their age. So it
was with us; and during the short cold days of winter we would sit
silent, longing for the happy hours when the snow would melt, and the
leaves burst out, and the birds begin their songs, and when we should
again be set at liberty.
"Such was our peculiar and savage sort of life until my brother Caesar
was nine, myself seven, and my sister five, years old, when the
circumstances occurred on which is based the extraordinary narrative
which I am about to relate.
"One evening my father returned home rather later than usual; he had
been unsuccessful, and, as the weather was very severe, and many feet
of snow were upon the ground, he was not only very cold, but in a very
bad humour. He had brought in wood, and we were all three of us gladly
assisting each other in blowing on the embers to create the blaze,
when he caught poor little Marcella by the arm and threw her aside;
the child fell, struck her mouth, and bled very much. My brother ran
to raise her up. Accustomed to ill usage, and afraid of my father,
she did not dare to cry, but looked up in his face very piteously.
My father drew his stool nearer to the hearth, muttered something
in abuse of women, and busied himself with the fire, which both my
brother and I had deserted when our sister was so unkindly treated. A
cheerful blaze was soon the result of his exertions; but we did not,
as usual, crowd round it. Marcella, still bleeding, retired to a
corner, and my brother and I took our seats beside her, while my
father hung over the fire gloomily and alone. Such had been our
position for about half-an-hour, when the howl of a wolf, close under
the window of the cottage, fell on our ears. My father started up, and
seized his gun: the howl was repeated, he examined the priming, and
then hastily left the cottage, shutting the door after him. We all
waited (anxiously listening), for we thought that if he succeeded in
shooting the wolf, he would return in a better humour; and although
he was harsh to all of us, and particularly so to our little sister,
still we loved our father, and loved to see him cheerful and happy,
for what else had we to look up to? And I may here observe, that
perhaps there never were three children who were fonder of each other;
we did not, like other children, fight and dispute together; and if,
by chance, any disagreement did arise between my elder brother and me,
little Marcella would run to us, and kissing us both, seal, through
her entreaties, the peace between us. Marcella was a lovely, amiable
child; I can recall her beautiful features even now--Alas! poor little
Marcella."
"She is dead then?" observed Philip.
"Dead! yes, dead!--but how did she die?--But I must not anticipate,
Philip; let me tell my story.
"We waited for some time, but the report of the gun did not reach us,
and my elder brother then said, 'Our father has followed the wolf, and
will not be back for some time. Marcella, let us wash the blood from
your mouth, and then we will leave this corner, and go to the fire and
warm ourselves.'
"We did so, and remained there until near midnight, every minute
wondering, as it grew later, why our father did not return. We had
no idea that he was in any danger, but we thought that he must have
chased the wolf for a very long time. 'I will look out and see if
father is coming,' said my brother Caesar, going to the door. 'Take
care,' said Marcella, 'the wolves must be about now, and we cannot
kill them, brother.' My brother opened the door very cautiously, and
but a few inches; he peeped out.--'I see nothing,' said he, after a
time, and once more he joined us at the fire. 'We have had no supper,'
said I, for my father usually cooked the meat as soon as he came
home; and during his absence we had nothing but the fragments of the
preceding day.
"'And if our father comes home after his hunt, Caesar,' said Marcella,
'he will be pleased to have some supper; let us cook it for him and
for ourselves.' Caesar climbed upon the stool, and reached down some
meat--I forget now whether it was venison or bear's meat; but we cut
off the usual quantity, and proceeded to dress it, as we used to do
under our father's superintendence. We were all busied putting it into
the platters before the fire, to await his coming, when we heard the
sound of a horn. We listened--there was a noise outside, and a minute
afterwards my father entered, ushering in a young female, and a large
dark man in a hunter's dress.
"Perhaps I had better now relate, what was only known to me many years
afterwards. When my father had left the cottage, he perceived a large
white wolf about thirty yards from him; as soon as the animal saw
my father, it retreated slowly, growling and snarling. My father
followed; the animal did not run, but always kept at some distance;
and my father did not like to fire until he was pretty certain that
his ball would take effect: thus they went on for some time, the wolf
now leaving my father far behind, and then stopping and snarling
defiance at him, and then again, on his approach, setting off at
speed.
"Anxious to shoot the animal (for the white wolf is very rare), my
father continued the pursuit for several hours, during which he
continually ascended the mountain.
"You must know, Philip, that there are peculiar spots on those
mountains which are supposed, and, as my story will prove, truly
supposed, to be inhabited by the evil influences; they are well known
to the huntsmen, who invariably avoid them. Now, one of these spots,
an open space in the pine forests above us, had been pointed out to my
father as dangerous on that account. But, whether he disbelieved
these wild stories, or whether, in his eager pursuit of the chase, he
disregarded them, I know not; certain, however, it is, that he was
decoyed by the white wolf to this open space, when the animal appeared
to slacken her speed. My father approached, came close up to her,
raised his gun to his shoulder, and was about to fire; when the wolf
suddenly disappeared. He thought that the snow on the ground must have
dazzled his sight, and he let down his gun to look for the beast--but
she was gone; how she could have escaped over the clearance, without
his seeing her, was beyond his comprehension. Mortified at the ill
success of his chase, he was about to retrace his steps, when he heard
the distant sound of a horn. Astonishment at such a sound--at such
an hour--in such a wilderness, made him forget for the moment his
disappointment, and he remained riveted to the spot. In a minute the
horn was blown a second time, and at no great distance; my father
stood still, and listened: a third time it was blown. I forget the
term used to express it, but it was the signal which, my father well
knew, implied that the party was lost in the woods. In a few minutes
more my father beheld a man on horseback, with a female seated on the
crupper, enter the cleared space, and ride up to him. At first, my
father called to mind the strange stories which he had heard of the
supernatural beings who were said to frequent these mountains; but the
nearer approach of the parties satisfied him that they were mortals
like himself. As soon as they came up to him, the man who guided the
horse accosted him. 'Friend Hunter, you are out late, the better
fortune for us: we have ridden far, and are in fear of our lives,
which are eagerly sought after. These mountains have enabled us to
elude our pursuers; but if we find not shelter and refreshment, that
will avail us little, as we must perish from hunger and the inclemency
of the night. My daughter, who rides behind me, is now more dead than
alive,--say, can you assist us in our difficulty?'
"'My cottage is some few miles distant,' replied my father, 'but I
have little to offer you besides a shelter from the weather; to the
little I have you are welcome. May I ask whence you come?'
"'Yes, friend, it is no secret now; we have escaped from Transylvania,
where my daughter's honour and my life were equally in jeopardy!'
"This information was quite enough to raise an interest in my father's
heart. He remembered his own escape: he remembered the loss of
his wife's honour, and the tragedy by which it was wound up. He
immediately, and warmly, offered all the assistance which he could
afford them.
"'There is no time to be lost, then, good sir,' observed the horseman;
'my daughter is chilled with the frost, and cannot hold out much
longer against the severity of the weather.'
"'Follow me,' replied my father, leading the way towards his home.
"'I was lured away in pursuit of a large white wolf,' observed my
father; 'it came to the very window of my hut, or I should not have
been out at this time of night.'
"'The creature passed by us just as we came out of the wood,' said the
female in a silvery tone.
"I was nearly discharging my piece at it,' observed the hunter; 'but
since it did us such good service, I am glad that I allowed it to
escape.'
"In about an hour and a half, during which my father walked at a rapid
pace, the party arrived at the cottage, and, as I said before, came
in.
"'We are in good time, apparently,' observed the dark hunter, catching
the smell of the roasted meat, as he walked to the fire and surveyed
my brother and sister, and myself. 'You have young cooks here,
Mynheer.' 'I am glad that we shall not have to wait,' replied my
father. 'Come, mistress, seat yourself by the fire; you require warmth
after your cold ride.' 'And where can I put up my horse, Mynheer?'
observed the huntsman.' 'I will take care of him,' replied my father,
going out of the cottage door.
"The female must, however, be particularly described. She was young,
and apparently twenty years of age. She was dressed in a travelling
dress, deeply bordered with white fur, and wore a cap of white ermine
on her head. Her features were very beautiful, at least I thought so,
and so my father has since declared. Her hair was flaxen, glossy and
shining, and bright as a mirror; and her mouth, although somewhat
large when it was open, showed the most brilliant teeth I have ever
beheld. But there was something about her eyes, bright as they were,
which made us children afraid; they were so restless, so furtive; I
could not at that time tell why, but I felt as if there was cruelty in
her eye; and when she beckoned us to come to her, we approached her
with fear and trembling. Still she was beautiful, very beautiful. She
spoke kindly to my brother and myself, patted our heads, and caressed
us; but Marcella would not come near her; on the contrary, she slunk
away, and hid herself in the bed, and would not wait for the supper,
which half an hour before she had been so anxious for.
"My father, having put the horse into a close shed, soon returned,
and supper was placed upon the table. When it was over, my father
requested that the young lady would take possession of his bed, and
he would remain at the fire, and sit up with her father. After some
hesitation on her part, this arrangement was agreed to, and I and my
brother crept into the other bed with Marcella, for we had as yet
always slept together.
"But we could not sleep; there was something so unusual, not only
in seeing strange people, but in having those people sleep at the
cottage, that we were bewildered. As for poor little Marcella, she was
quiet, but I perceived that she trembled during the whole night, and
sometimes I thought that she was checking a sob. My father had brought
out some spirits, which he rarely used, and he and the strange hunter
remained drinking and talking before the fire. Our ears were ready to
catch the slightest whisper--so much was our curiosity excited.
"'You said you came from Transylvania?' observed my father.
"'Even so, Mynheer,' replied the hunter. 'I was a serf to the noble
house of ----; my master would insist upon my surrendering up my fair
girl to his wishes; it ended in my giving him a few inches of my
hunting-knife.'
"'We are countrymen, and brothers in misfortune,' replied my father,
taking the huntsman's hand, and pressing it warmly.
"'Indeed! Are you, then, from that country?'
"'Yes; and I too have fled for my life. But mine is a melancholy
tale.'
"'Your name?' inquired the hunter.
"'Krantz.'
"'What! Krantz of ---- I have heard your tale; you need not renew your
grief by repeating it now. Welcome, most welcome, Mynheer, and, I
may say, my worthy kinsman. I am your second cousin, Wilfred of
Barnsdorf,' cried the hunter, rising up and embracing my father.
"They filled their horn mugs to the brim, and drank to one another,
after the German fashion. The conversation was then carried on in a
low tone; all that we could collect from it was, that our new relative
and his daughter were to take up their abode in our cottage, at least
for the present. In about an hour they both fell back in their chairs,
and appeared to sleep.
"'Marcella, dear, did you hear?' said my brother in a low tone.
"'Yes,' replied Marcella, in a whisper; 'I heard all. Oh! brother, I
cannot bear to look upon that woman--I feel so frightened.'
"My brother made no reply, and shortly afterwards we were all three
fast asleep.
"When we awoke the next morning, we found that the hunter's daughter
had risen before us. I thought she looked more beautiful than ever.
She came up to little Marcella and caressed her; the child burst into
tears, and sobbed as if her heart would break.
"But, not to detain you with too long a story, the huntsman and his
daughter were accommodated in the cottage. My father and he went
out hunting daily, leaving Christina with us. She performed all the
household duties; was very kind to us children; and, gradually, the
dislike even of little Marcella wore away. But a great change took
place in my father; he appeared to have conquered his aversion to the
sex, and was most attentive to Christina. Often, after her father and
we were in bed, would he sit up with her, conversing in a low tone by
the fire. I ought to have mentioned, that my father and the huntsman
Wilfred, slept in another portion of the cottage, and that the bed
which he formerly occupied, and which was in the same room as ours,
had been given up to the use of Christina. These visitors had been
about three weeks at the cottage, when, one night, after we children
had been sent to bed, a consultation was held. My father had asked
Christina in marriage, and had obtained both her own consent and that
of Wilfred; after this a conversation took place, which was, as nearly
as I can recollect, as follows:--
"'You may take my child, Mynheer Krantz, and my blessing with her,
and I shall then leave you and seek some other habitation--it matters
little where.'
"'Why not remain here, Wilfred?'
"'No, no, I am called elsewhere; let that suffice, and ask no more
questions. You have my child.'
"'I thank you for her, and will duly value her; but there is one
difficulty.'
"'I know what you would say; there is no priest here in this wild
country: true; neither is there any law to bind; still must some
ceremony pass between you, to satisfy a father. Will you consent to
marry her after my fashion? if so, I will marry you directly.'
"'I will,' replied my father.
"'Then take her by the hand. Now, Mynheer, swear.'
"'I swear,' repeated my father.
"'By all the spirits of the Hartz Mountains--'
"'Nay, why not by Heaven?' interrupted my father.
"'Because it is not my humour,' rejoined Wilfred; 'if I prefer that
oath, less binding perhaps, than another, surely you will not thwart
me.'
"'Well, be it so then; have your humour. Will you make me swear by
that in which I do not believe?'
"'Yet many do so, who in outward appearance are Christians,' rejoined
Wilfred; 'say, will you be married, or shall I take my daughter away
with me?'
"'Proceed,' replied my father, impatiently.
"'I swear by all the spirits of the Hartz Mountains, by all their
power for good or for evil, that I take Christina for my wedded wife;
that I will ever protect her, cherish her, and love her; that my hand
shall never be raised against her to harm her.'
"My father repeated the words after Wilfred.
"'And if I fail in this my vow, may all the vengeance of the spirits
fall upon me and upon my children; may they perish by the vulture, by
the wolf, or other beasts of the forest; may their flesh be torn from
their limbs, and their bones blanch in the wilderness; all this I
swear.'
"My father hesitated, as he repeated the last words; little Marcella
could not restrain herself, and as my father repeated the last
sentence, she burst into tears. This sudden interruption appeared to
discompose the party, particularly my father; he spoke harshly to the
child, who controlled her sobs, burying her face under the bedclothes.
"Such was the second marriage of my father. The next morning, the
hunter Wilfred mounted his horse, and rode away.
"My father resumed his bed, which was in the same room as ours; and
things went on much as before the marriage, except that our new
mother-in-law did not show any kindness towards us; indeed, during
my father's absence, she would often beat us, particularly little
Marcella, and her eyes would flash fire, as she looked eagerly upon
the fair and lovely child.
"One night, my sister awoke me and my brother.
"'What is the matter?' said Caesar.
"'She has gone out,' whispered Marcella.
"'Gone out!'
"'Yes, gone out at the door, in her night-clothes,' replied the child;
'I saw her get out of bed, look at my father to see if he slept, and
then she went out at the door.'
"What could induce her to leave her bed, and all undressed to go out,
in such bitter wintry weather, with the snow deep on the ground, was
to us incomprehensible; we lay awake, and in about an hour we heard
the growl of a wolf, close under the window.
"'There is a wolf,' said Caesar; 'she will be torn to pieces.'
"'Oh, no!' cried Marcella.
"In a few minutes afterwards our mother-in-law appeared; she was in
her night-dress, as Marcella had stated. She let down the latch of the
door, so as to make no noise, went to a pail of water, and washed her
face and hands, and then slipped into the bed where my father lay.
"We all three trembled, we hardly knew why, but we resolved to watch
the next night: we did so--and not only on the ensuing night, but
on many others, and always at about the same hour, would our
mother-in-law rise from her bed, and leave the cottage--and after she
was gone, we invariably heard the growl of a wolf under our window,
and always saw her, on her return, wash herself before she retired to
bed. We observed, also, that she seldom sat down to meals, and that
when she did, she appeared to eat with dislike; but when the meat was
taken down, to be prepared for dinner, she would often furtively put a
raw piece into her mouth.
"My brother Caesar was a courageous boy; he did not like to speak to
my father until he knew more. He resolved that he would follow her
out, and ascertain what she did. Marcella and I endeavoured to
dissuade him from this project; but he would not be controlled, and,
the very next night he lay down in his clothes, and as soon as our
mother-in-law had left the cottage, he jumped up, took down my
father's gun, and followed her.
"You may imagine in what a state of suspense Marcella and I remained,
during his absence. After a few minutes, we heard the report of a gun.
It did not awaken my father, and we lay trembling with anxiety. In
a minute afterwards we saw our mother-in-law enter the cottage--her
dress was bloody. I put my hand to Marcella's mouth to prevent her
crying out, although I was myself in great alarm. Our mother-in-law
approached my father's bed, looked to see if he was asleep, and then
went to the chimney, and blew up the embers into a blaze.
"'Who is there?' said my father, waking up.
"'Lie still, dearest,' replied my mother-in-law, 'it is only me; I
have lighted the fire to warm some water; I am not quite well.'
"My father turned round and was soon asleep; but we watched our
mother-in-law. She changed her linen, and threw the garments she had
worn into the fire; and we then perceived that her right leg was
bleeding profusely, as if from a gun-shot wound. She bandaged it up,
and then dressing herself, remained before the fire until the break of
day.
"Poor little Marcella, her heart beat quick as she pressed me to her
side--so indeed did mine. Where was our brother, Caesar? How did my
mother-in-law receive the wound unless from his gun? At last my father
rose, and then, for the first time I spoke, saying, 'Father, where is
my brother, Caesar?'
"'Your brother!' exclaimed he, 'why, where can he be?'
"'Merciful Heaven! I thought as I lay very restless last night,'
observed our mother-in-law, 'that I heard somebody open the latch of
the door; and, dear me, husband, what has become of your gun?'
"My father cast his eyes up above the chimney, and perceived that his
gun was missing. For a moment he looked perplexed, then seizing a
broad axe, he went out of the cottage without saying another word.
"He did not remain away from us long: in a few minutes he returned,
bearing in his arms the mangled body of my poor brother; he laid it
down, and covered up his face.
"My mother-in-law rose up, and looked at the body, while Marcella and
I threw ourselves by its side wailing and sobbing bitterly.
"'Go to bed again, children,' said she sharply. 'Husband,' continued
she, 'your boy must have taken the gun down to shoot a wolf, and the
animal has been too powerful for him. Poor boy! he has paid dearly for
his rashness.'
"My father made no reply; I wished to speak--to tell all--but
Marcella, who perceived my intention, held me by the arm, and looked
at me so imploringly, that I desisted.
"My father, therefore, was left in his error; but Marcella and
I, although we could not comprehend it, were conscious that our
mother-in-law was in some way connected with my brother's death.
"That day my father went out and dug a grave, and when he laid the
body in the earth, he piled up stones over it, so that the wolves
should not be able to dig it up. The shock of this catastrophe was
to my poor father very severe; for several days he never went to the
chase, although at times he would utter bitter anathemas and vengeance
against the wolves.
"But during this time of mourning on his part, my mother-in-law's
nocturnal wanderings continued with the same regularity as before.
"At last, my father took down his gun, to repair to the forest; but he
soon returned, and appeared much annoyed.
"'Would you believe it, Christina, that the wolves--perdition to the
whole race--have actually contrived to dig up the body of my poor boy,
and now there is nothing left of him but his bones?'
"'Indeed!' replied my mother-in-law. Marcella looked at me, and I saw
in her intelligent eye all she would have uttered.
"'A wolf growls under our window every night, father,' said I.
"'Aye, indeed?--why did you not tell me, boy?--wake me the next time
you hear it.'
"I saw my mother-in-law turn away; her eyes flashed fire, and she
gnashed her teeth.
"My father went out again, and covered up with a larger pile of stones
the little remnants of my poor brother which the wolves had spared.
Such was the first act of the tragedy.
"The spring now came on: the snow disappeared, and we were permitted
to leave the cottage; but never would I quit, for one moment, my dear
little sister, to whom, since the death of my brother, I was more
ardently attached than ever; indeed I was afraid to leave her alone
with my mother-in-law, who appeared to have a particular pleasure in
ill-treating the child. My father was now employed upon his little
farm, and I was able to render him some assistance.
"Marcella used to sit by us while we were at work, leaving my
mother-in-law alone in the cottage. I ought to observe that, as the
spring advanced, so did my mother-in-law decrease her nocturnal
rambles, and that we never heard the growl of the wolf under the
window after I had spoken of it to my father.
"One day, when my father and I were in the field, Marcella being with
us, my mother-in-law came out, saying that she was going into the
forest, to collect some herbs my father wanted, and that Marcella
must go to the cottage and watch the dinner. Marcella went, and my
mother-in-law soon disappeared in the forest, taking a direction quite
contrary to that in which the cottage stood, and leaving my father and
I, as it were, between her and Marcella.
"About an hour afterwards we were startled by shrieks from the
cottage, evidently the shrieks of little Marcella. 'Marcella has burnt
herself, father,' said I, throwing down my spade. My father threw down
his, and we both hastened to the cottage. Before we could gain the
door, out darted a large white wolf, which fled with the utmost
celerity. My father had no weapon; he rushed into the cottage, and
there saw poor little Marcella expiring: her body was dreadfully
mangled, and the blood pouring from it had formed a large pool on the
cottage floor. My father's first intention had been to seize his gun
and pursue, but he was checked by this horrid spectacle; he knelt down
by his dying child, and burst into tears: Marcella could just look
kindly on us for a few seconds, and then her eyes were closed in
death.
"My father and I were still hanging over my poor sister's body, when
my mother-in-law came in. At the dreadful sight she expressed much
concern, but she did not appear to recoil from the sight of blood, as
most women do.
"'Poor child!' said she, 'it must have been that great white wolf
which passed me just now, and frightened me so--she's quite dead,
Krantz.'
"I know it--I know it!' cried my father in agony.
"I thought my father would never recover from the effects of this
second tragedy: he mourned bitterly over the body of his sweet child,
and for several days would not consign it to its grave, although
frequently requested by my mother-in-law to do so. At last he yielded,
and dug a grave for her close by that of my poor brother, and took
every precaution that the wolves should not violate her remains.
"I was now really miserable, as I lay alone in the bed which I had
formerly shared with my brother and sister. I could not help thinking
that my mother-in-law was implicated in both their deaths, although I
could not account for the manner; but I no longer felt afraid of her:
my little heart was full of hatred and revenge.
"The night after my sister had been buried, as I lay awake, I
perceived my mother-in-law get up and go out of the cottage. I waited
some time, then dressed myself, and looked out through the door, which
I half opened. The moon shone bright, and I could see the spot where
my brother and my sister had been buried; and what was my horror,
when I perceived my mother-in-law busily removing the stones from
Marcella's grave.
"She was in her white night-dress, and the moon shone full upon her.
She was digging with her hands, and throwing away the stones behind
her with all the ferocity of a wild beast. It was some time before
I could collect my senses and decide what I should do. At last, I
perceived that she had arrived at the body, and raised it up to the
side of the grave. I could bear it no longer; I ran to my father and
awoke him.
"'Father! father!' cried I, 'dress yourself, and get your gun.'
"'What!' cried my father, 'the wolves are there, are they?'
"He jumped out of bed, threw on his clothes, and in his anxiety did
not appear to perceive the absence of his wife. As soon as he was
ready, I opened the door, he went out, and I followed him.
"Imagine his horror, when (unprepared as he was for such a sight) he
beheld, as he advanced towards the grave, not a wolf, but his wife, in
her night-dress, on her hands and knees, crouching by the body of my
sister, and tearing off large pieces of the flesh, and devouring them
with all the avidity of a wolf. She was too busy to be aware of our
approach. My father dropped his gun, his hair stood on end; so did
mine; he breathed heavily, and then his breath for a time stopped. I
picked up the gun and put it into his hand. Suddenly he appeared as if
concentrated rage had restored him to double vigour; he levelled his
piece, fired, and with a loud shriek, down fell the wretch whom he had
fostered in his bosom.
"'God of Heaven!' cried my father, sinking down upon the earth in a
swoon, as soon as he had discharged his gun.
"I remained some time by his side before he recovered. 'Where am I?'
said he, 'what has happened?--Oh!--yes, yes! I recollect now. Heaven
forgive me!'
"He rose and we walked up to the grave; what again was our
astonishment and horror to find that instead of the dead body of my
mother-in-law, as we expected, there was lying over the remains of my
poor sister, a large, white she wolf.
"'The white wolf!' exclaimed my father, 'the white wolf which decoyed
me into the forest--I see it all now--I have dealt with the spirits of
the Hartz Mountains.'
"For some time my father remained in silence and deep thought. He then
carefully lifted up the body of my sister, replaced it in the grave,
and covered it over as before, having struck the head of the dead
animal with the heel of his boot, and raving like a madman. He walked
back to the cottage, shut the door, and threw himself on the bed; I
did the same, for I was in a stupor of amazement.
"Early in the morning we were both roused by a loud knocking at the
door, and in rushed the hunter Wilfred.
"'My daughter!--man--my daughter!--where is my daughter!' cried he in
a rage.
"'Where the wretch, the fiend, should be, I trust,' replied my father,
starting up and displaying equal choler; 'where she should be--in
hell!--Leave this cottage or you may fare worse.'
"'Ha--ha!' replied the hunter, 'would you harm a potent spirit of the
Hartz Mountains. Poor mortal, who must needs wed a weir wolf.'
"'Out demon! I defy thee and thy power.'
"'Yet shall you feel it; remember your oath--your solemn oath--never
to raise your hand against her to harm her.'
"'I made no compact with evil spirits.'
"'You did; and if you failed in your vow, you were to meet the
vengeance of the spirits. Your children were to perish by the vulture,
the wolf--'
"'Out, out, demon!'
"'And their bones blanch in the wilderness. Ha!--ha!'
"My father, frantic with rage, seized his axe, and raised it over
Wilfred's head to strike.
"'All this I swear,' continued the huntsman, mockingly.
"The axe descended; but it passed through the form of the hunter, and
my father lost his balance, and fell heavily on the floor.
"'Mortal!' said the hunter, striding over my father's body, 'we have
power over those only who have committed murder. You have been guilty
of a double murder--you shall pay the penalty attached to your
marriage vow. Two of your children are gone; the third is yet to
follow--and follow them he will, for your oath is registered. Go--it
were kindness to kill thee--your punishment is--that you live!'
"With these words the spirit disappeared. My father rose from the
floor, embraced me tenderly, and knelt down in prayer.
"The next morning he quitted the cottage for ever. He took me with him
and bent his steps to Holland, where we safely arrived. He had some
little money with him; but he had not been many days in Amsterdam
before he was seized with a brain fever, and died raving mad. I was
put into the Asylum, and afterwards was sent to sea before the mast.
You now know all my history. The question is, whether I am to pay the
penalty of my father's oath? I am myself perfectly convinced that, in
some way or another, I shall."
On the twenty-second day the high land of the south of Sumatra was in
view; as there were no vessels in sight, they resolved to keep their
course through the Straits, and run for Pulo Penang, which they
expected, as their vessel laid so close to the wind, to reach in seven
or eight days. By constant exposure, Philip and Krantz were now so
bronzed, that with their long beards and Mussulman dresses, they might
easily have passed off for natives. They had steered during the whole
of the days exposed to a burning sun; they had lain down and slept in
the dew of night, but their health had not suffered. But for several
days, since he had confided the history of his family to Philip,
Krantz had become silent and melancholy; his usual flow of spirits had
vanished, and Philip had often questioned him as to the cause. As they
entered the Straits, Philip talked of what they should do upon their
arrival at Goa. When Krantz gravely replied, "For some days, Philip, I
have had a presentiment that I shall never see that city."
"You are out of health, Krantz," replied Philip.
"No; I am in sound health, body and mind. I have endeavoured to shake
off the presentiment, but in vain; there is a warning voice that
continually tells me that I shall not be long with you. Philip, will
you oblige me by making me content on one point: I have gold about
my person which may be useful to you; oblige me by taking it, and
securing it on your own."
"What nonsense, Krantz."
"It is no nonsense, Philip. Have you not had your warnings? Why should
I not have mine? You know that I have little fear in my composition,
and that I care not about death; but I feel the presentiment which I
speak of more strongly every hour. It is some kind spirit who would
warn me to prepare for another world. Be it so. I have lived long
enough in this world to leave it without regret; although to part
with you and Amine, the only two now dear to me, is painful, I
acknowledge."
"May not this arise from over-exertion and fatigue, Krantz? consider
how much excitement you have laboured under within these last four
months. Is not that enough to create a corresponding depression?
Depend upon it, my dear friend, such is the fact."
"I wish it were--but I feel otherwise, and there is a feeling of
gladness connected with the idea that I am to leave this world,
arising from another presentiment, which equally occupies my mind."
"Which is?"
"I hardly can tell you; but Amine and you are connected with it. In my
dreams I have seen you meet again; but it has appeared to me, as if a
portion of your trial was purposely shut from my sight in dark clouds;
and I have asked, 'May not I see what is there concealed?'--and an
invisible has answered, 'No! 'twould make you wretched. Before these
trials take place, you will be summoned away'--and then I have thanked
Heaven, and felt resigned."
"These are the imaginings of a disturbed brain, Krantz; that I am
destined to suffering may be true; but why Amine should suffer, or why
you, young, in full health and vigour, should not pass your days in
peace, and live to a good old age, there is no cause for believing.
You will be better to-morrow."
"Perhaps so," replied Krantz;--"but still you must yield to my whim,
and take the gold. If I am wrong, and we do arrive safe, you know,
Philip, you can let me have it back," observed Krantz, with a faint
smile--"but you forget, our water is nearly out, and we must look out
for a rill on the coast to obtain a fresh supply."
"I was thinking of that when you commenced this unwelcome topic. We
had better look out for the water before dark, and as soon as we have
replenished our jars, we will make sail again."
At the time that this conversation took place, they were on the
eastern side of the Strait, about forty miles to the northward.
The interior of the coast was rocky and mountainous, but it slowly
descended to low land of alternate forest and jungles, which continued
to the beach: the country appeared to be uninhabited. Keeping close in
to the shore, they discovered, after two hours' run, a fresh stream
which burst in a cascade from the mountains, and swept its devious
course through the jungle, until it poured its tribute into the waters
of the Strait.
They ran close in to the mouth of the stream, lowered the sails, and
pulled the peroqua against the current, until they had advanced far
enough to assure them that the water was quite fresh. The jars were
soon filled, and they were again thinking of pushing off; when,
enticed by the beauty of the spot, the coolness of the fresh water,
and wearied with their long confinement on board of the peroqua, they
proposed to bathe--a luxury hardly to be appreciated by those who
have not been in a similar situation. They threw off their Mussulman
dresses, and plunged into the stream, where they remained for some
time. Krantz was the first to get out; he complained of feeling
chilled, and he walked on to the banks where their clothes had been
laid. Philip also approached nearer to the beach, intending to follow
him.
"And now, Philip," said Krantz, "this will be a good opportunity for
me to give you the money. I will open my sash, and pour it out, and
you can put it into your own before you put it on."
Philip was standing in the water, which was about level with his
waist.
"Well, Krantz," said he, "I suppose if it must be so, it must; but it
appears to me an idea so ridiculous--however, you shall have your own
way."
Philip quitted the run, and sat down by Krantz, who was already busy
in shaking the doubloons out of the folds of his sash; at last he
said--
"I believe, Philip, you have got them all, now?--I feel satisfied."
"What danger there can be to you, which I am not equally exposed to, I
cannot conceive," replied Philip; "however--"
Hardly had he said these words, when there was a tremendous roar--a
rush like a mighty wind through the air--a blow which threw him on
his back--a loud cry--and a contention. Philip recovered himself, and
perceived the naked form of Krantz carried off with the speed of
an arrow by an enormous tiger through the jungle. He watched with
distended eyeballs; in a few seconds the animal and Krantz had
disappeared!
"God of Heaven! would that Thou hadst spared me this," cried Philip,
throwing himself down in agony on his face. "Oh! Krantz, my friend--my
brother--too sure was your presentiment. Merciful God! have pity--but
Thy will be done;" and Philip burst into a flood of tears.
For more than an hour did he remain fixed upon the spot, careless
and indifferent to the danger by which he was surrounded. At last,
somewhat recovered, he rose, dressed himself, and then again sat
down--his eyes fixed upon the clothes of Krantz, and the gold which
still lay on the sand.
"He would give me that gold. He foretold his doom. Yes! yes! it was
his destiny, and it has been fulfilled. _His bones will bleach in
the wilderness_, and the spirit-hunter and his wolfish daughter are
avenged."
The shades of evening now set in, and the low growling of the beasts
of the forest recalled Philip to a sense of his own danger. He thought
of Amine; and hastily making the clothes of Krantz and the doubloons
into a package, he stepped into the peroqua, with difficulty shoved it
off, and with a melancholy heart, and in silence, hoisted the sail,
and pursued his course.
"Yes, Amine," thought Philip, as he watched the stars twinkling and
corruscating. "Yes, you are right, when you assert that the destinies
of men are foreknown, and may by some be read. My destiny is, alas!
that I should be severed from all I value upon earth, and die
friendless and alone. Then welcome death, if such is to be the case;
welcome a thousand welcomes! what a relief wilt thou be to me! what
joy to find myself summoned to where the weary are at rest! I have my
task to fulfil. God grant that it may soon be accomplished, and let
not my life be embittered by any more trials such as this."
Again did Philip weep, for Krantz had been his long-tried, valued
friend, his partner in all his dangers and privations, from the period
that they had met when the Dutch fleet attempted the passage round
Cape Horn.
After seven days of painful watching and brooding over bitter
thoughts, Philip arrived at Pulo Penang, where he found a vessel about
to sail for the city to which he was destined. He ran his peroqua
alongside of her, and found that she was a brig under the Portuguese
flag, having, however, but two Portuguese on board, the rest of the
crew being natives. Representing himself as an Englishman in the
Portuguese service, who had been wrecked, and offering to pay for
his passage, he was willingly received, and in a few days the vessel
sailed.
Their voyage was prosperous; in six weeks they anchored in the roads
of Goa; the next day they went up the river. The Portuguese captain
informed Philip where he might obtain lodging; and passing him off as
one of his crew, there was no difficulty raised as to his landing.
Having located himself at his new lodging, Philip commenced some
inquiries of his host relative to Amine, designating her merely as a
young woman who had arrived there in a vessel some weeks before; but
he could obtain no information concerning her. "Signor," said the
host, "to-morrow is the grand _Auto da Fé_; we can do nothing until
that is over; afterwards, I will put you in the way to find out what
you wish. In the meantime, you can walk about the town; to-morrow I
will take you to where you can behold the grand procession, and then
we will try what we can do to assist you in your search."
Philip went out, procured a suit of clothes, removed his beard, and
then walked about the town, looking up at every window to see if he
could perceive Amine. At a corner of one of the streets, he thought he
recognised Father Mathias, and ran up to him; but the monk had drawn
his cowl over his head, and when addressed by that name, made no
reply.
"I was deceived," thought Philip; "but I really thought it was him."
And Philip was right; it was Father Mathias, who thus screened himself
from Philip's recognition.
Tired, at last he returned to his hotel, just before it was dark. The
company there were numerous; everybody for miles distant had come to
Goa to witness the _Auto da Fé_,--and everybody was discussing the
ceremony.
"I will see this grand procession," said Philip to himself, as he
threw himself on his bed. "It will drive thought from me for a time,
and God knows how painful my thoughts have now become. Amine, dear
Amine, may angels guard thee!"