IN WHICH MR. WAXPENNY ASSERTS THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW, AND THE CURTAIN
FALLS
"Coming, are they?" said Captain Stanbury. "Well, I am ready." He
buttoned his coat across his breast, and picked up a hat that lay on the
table. "Can you furnish a couple of extra mounts, Welfare?" he added.
"Yes, I can fix you," said the farmer. "I have three horses in the
barn."
"Father, where are you going?" exclaimed Nathan.
"I am about to leave this noble gentleman's house for a safer refuge,"
Captain Stanbury answered. "To be brief, my boy, I fear I am in some
danger. Last night the farmer's hireling, a surly fellow, whom I have
long suspected, vanished mysteriously. I concluded that he had gone to
New York to denounce me, and Welfare shared my opinion. He spent the day
in beating up a score of loyal yeomen, and they are now here to take me
to New Brunswick. You and Godfrey will go along, of course. The fact
that the enemy have been raiding almost nightly between here and Sandy
Hook, made a large escort necessary for my safety."
Meanwhile the muffled sounds of hoofs and a jangle of equipments had
been heard in the yard, and, now, just as the Captain finished his
explanation, there was a sharp rap on the front door.
"Is that you, Ruggles?" the farmer called loudly, as he led his
companions into the hall.
"Yes," was the almost inaudible response. "Open quickly!"
"It's a strange voice!" gasped Welfare. "We are betrayed--the enemy are
here!"
"Already," murmured the Captain. "It can't be possible!" Godfrey and
Nathan turned pale.
There was a brief wait, and then the rap was repeated. "Open in the
King's name, Jonas Welfare," demanded an angry voice.
"Who are you? What do you want?" cried the farmer.
"We want the rebel officer whom you are sheltering," came the reply. "If
you value your life you will let us in at once. The house is surrounded,
and it is useless to resist."
Welfare snatched two loaded muskets from a rack on the wall, and gave
one to the Captain. "The first red-coat that tries to break into this
house, dies," he shouted loudly.
"My good sir, this won't do," Captain Stanbury said firmly. "You shall
not risk your life for mine. Open the door and let them take me."
"Never," declared the farmer. "I'll protect you as long as I can. Man,
do you want to end your days on one of those rotten prison ships?"
"I am likely to die more speedily," muttered the Captain, half aloud,
and a terrible expression crossed his face. "You had better open the
door, Welfare," he added, "but first find a hiding-place for these lads.
Their presence can hardly be known, and this one will probably be
hanged if he is found here."
"I know that, sir," interrupted Godfrey, "but I will stand by the rest
of you."
"And so will I, father," Nathan cried, hoarsely. "Do you think I would
desert you at such a time? Mr. Welfare, can't you give me a gun or a--"
Crash! A musket butt thundered against the panels of the door. Crash!
crash! The blows rained hard and fast, and the timbers began to split.
The farmer cocked his weapon, and held it ready.
"I'll keep my word," he muttered. "If we can hold out a bit the yeomen
may arrive--"
"By that time the house will be taken," cried Captain Stanbury. "There
is only one course, Welfare." He stepped toward the door, but before he
could reach it the report of a musket rang loudly, and a clatter of
hoofs was heard on the road. Then came yells and cheers, the pounding
ceased, and there was a rush of heavy feet off the porch. Crack! crack!
crack! Firearms were blazing noisily, and the night rang to the din of
angry voices and frightened and plunging steeds.
"Our fellows have arrived," cried the farmer, "and are engaging the
enemy."
"God grant they conquer!" said Captain Stanbury, throwing an arm around
Nathan's shoulder.
For two or three minutes the fusillade and din lasted. Then a bugle note
rang clear, followed by triumphant shouts and furious clatter of hoofs.
"The enemy are off!" cried Welfare. "We are saved!"
As he spoke the porch echoed to the tread of many feet, and hearty
voices demanded admission.
The farmer flung open the shattered door, and half a dozen sturdy yeomen
pushed into the hall, bearing in their arms a motionless form clad in a
red coat.
"We just got here in time, Jonas," cried the leader of the party. "The
enemy are kitin' for Sandy Hook, with two-thirds of our boys at their
heels. We shot three of 'em, but we lost poor Lige Garret. And here's a
British officer with a bullet in his breast."
"Put him on the couch in the room yonder, Ruggles," said the farmer.
The wounded man was borne in and laid down, and a pillow was pressed
under his head. Nathan and Godfrey, who had drawn near out of curiosity,
were startled to recognize Major Langdon.
"It's all up with him," said Ruggles. "I know the signs. A little brandy
might make him last longer, though it's a doubtful mercy."
"I'll get some," replied Welfare, hurrying to a closet and producing an
earthen jug. A drink of the potent liquor had a speedy and reviving
effect on the Major. He lifted his head a little, and opened his glassy
eyes. There was blood on the breast of his coat, and a few drops oozed
from his lips.
Just then Captain Stanbury came forward, and at sight of the wounded
officer he uttered a low cry.
"My good fellows, I wish to speak to this man alone," he said, hoarsely.
"Be assured that I have a sound reason. Pray leave us together for a few
minutes. Nathan, you remain. And you, too, Godfrey."
All the rest left the room, wondering at the Captain's agitation and
request. Welfare, who went last, softly closed the door after him.
For a moment Major Langdon stared silently at Captain Stanbury and the
lads, and it was evident that he knew all three. His face was white with
pain, but it showed no trace of anger or hatred. In his eyes was a look
of unutterable self-reproach and contrition.
"Dick," he whispered faintly, "this is the end."
"Yes, I fear it is," said Captain Stanbury. "God have mercy on you!
Nathan," he added, "this man is my younger brother Gerald--my brother
and your uncle!"
"Your brother!" gasped Nathan, and Godfrey uttered a cry of
astonishment.
"It is a strange story," resumed the Captain. "Let me tell it in a few
words. My father was the Earl of Ravenswood, and at Ravenswood Court,
near Nottingham, in England, the three brothers of us were brought up.
Anthony, the eldest, died in 1760, and that same year I married the
daughter of a retired sea-captain of Bristol. Mary Harding was the equal
of any woman in the world, but my father chose to think that I had
disgraced him and the family. We had a bitter quarrel, and he disowned
me and cast me out. Being the oldest living son, I was then Lord
Langdon, but I cared nothing for the title. I came to Philadelphia under
an assumed name, Nathan, and there you were born and my beloved wife
died. Since then I have lived only for you, my boy, and that you might
some day come into your inheritance, I preserved the papers relating to
my marriage and your birth. They were in the packet you found under the
floor of my cabin. And from the day I left England I neither saw nor
heard of my brother Gerald until we met after the battle of Monmouth."
Captain Stanbury sank into a chair, covering his face with his hands,
and for a moment there was deep silence. Nathan neither moved nor spoke.
It was a strange story he had just heard. So Major Langdon was his
father's brother--his own uncle! The mystery was growing clear, and he
shrank from what he suspected was to come.
Godfrey seemed also to understand, for there was a look of fixed horror
on his face.
"Dick," said Major Langdon, "it's my turn now. I can't last long, and I
want to confess--"
"No, no," interrupted Captain Stanbury. "Let that rest, Gerald. It can
do no good to tell it."
"But I must," persisted the dying man, in a shrill voice. "Do you think
I can go to my grave with such a burden on my soul? I came here to-night
to kill you, Dick, and I have been justly punished. God knows I am
repentant--"
"I believe you are, Gerald."
"Thank you, Dick. Now let me speak while I can--let me tell it all. I
recognized my nephew in Philadelphia, and you I discovered on the field
of Monmouth. I heard you speak of the papers, and it was then I first
conceived this awful crime. I wanted the title and estates--I wanted to
be Earl of Ravenswood, Dick, and you and your son stood in the way. But
I hated you both because you were rebels, else I could hardly have gone
so far. I had you carried off the field, and I told the Hessians to kill
you--"
"I suspected that, Gerald. I saw and recognized you when you rode by me
to the rear. But I was too weak to speak."
"And do you know what I did next, Dick? Do you know that I sent a band
of ruffians to steal the papers--that I paid Simon Glass to kill your
boy--my own nephew?"
"Yes, I know that, too. I heard it from Nathan, who was mercifully saved
from death."
"And can you forgive me, Dick? I have no right to ask it, but I am
truly repentant. You won't refuse a dying man?"
Captain Stanbury leaned over and took his brother's hand.
"Gerald, I do forgive you," he said. "I have no right to be a judge, and
you are paying the last penalty of your sins."
A look that was almost peaceful came into Major Langdon's eyes. He
gasped for breath, and feebly raised his head higher.
"I shall die happier now," he said, "as happy as any man in my
circumstances can. But what are you doing here, Spencer? I can't
understand it."
In a few words Godfrey explained, and the Major smiled faintly. "You did
right, my lad," he whispered. "I am glad that Glass is dead, and that he
failed in his purpose. What a wretch I have been! I sent you along,
Spencer, so that Glass would know my nephew from his resemblance to you.
It is a strange likeness, and I have often wondered at it."
He was silent for a moment, struggling with pain and weakness. When
Godfrey poured some brandy between his teeth his face flushed and he
gained fresh strength.
"Dick," he whispered, turning to his brother, "you will go home now,
won't you? I received a brief letter a month ago informing me of
father's death. So you are the Earl of Ravenswood, and your son is Lord
Langdon."
"I want neither the title nor the estates," exclaimed Captain Stanbury,
almost fiercely. "I am a true American, Gerald, and after what I have
seen of this bitter war I wish no more to do with England. And yet, for
my son's sake--"
"I, too, am a true American, father," interrupted Nathan, his eyes
flashing with excitement. "Do you think I would go and live in
England?--that I would take title or fortune from King George, our
bitterest foe? Never, father, never! My blood boils when I think of
Wyoming! Let us stay here and fight for our rights, like true patriots.
I am glad those papers are lost, and I hope they will never be found."
"Nobly said, my boy!" cried Captain Stanbury, in a voice that shook with
emotion. "I would not have had you choose otherwise--"
At that instant a commotion arose outside--loud voices mingled with the
neighing and clatter of horses. The front door opened, and a strangely
familiar sound brought the hot blood to Nathan's cheeks. Then footsteps
crossed the hall, and into the room strode Barnabas Otter.
The scene that followed can be better imagined than told. With a grin of
pleasure Barnabas shook hands with his friends, thereby convincing them
that he was not a ghost. Nathan was half-laughing, half-crying, as he
embraced the old man, and looked almost incredulously into his rugged
face. Major Langdon watched the scene curiously; his glazing eyes and
leaden hue told that the end was very near.
"It's me, sure enough," cried Barnabas, when the first greetings were
over. "Here's your papers, Captain," producing the packet from his boot.
Captain Stanbury shrugged his shoulders as he took them, and Nathan did
not try to hide his disappointment.
"So they aren't any account after all, lad," said Barnabas, in a
sympathetic tone. "It's hard luck! You see I've been made acquainted
with the whole story."
"What do you mean?" asked Nathan.
"You'll know soon," Barnabas replied. "Wait till I tell you how I
escaped death--it's not a long yarn. You may remember that the Carson
House stands on the Susquehanna half a mile below the Kittochtinny
Falls. It seems that after Braddock's defeat the family dug a secret
passage from the cellar of the house to the river, so's they might
escape by water in case of an Indian attack. Well, Glass an' I were
sucked under the bushes into the secret mouth of that passage. We were
both unconscious at the time, an' when I come to after a bit I didn't
know where I was. I hollered three or four times, an' down come Carson
an' his son with lanterns. Simon Glass was stone dead, an' I reckon they
buried him the next day. I pushed right up to Fort Hunter, learned from
Corporal Dubbs where you lads were gone, an' then struck for Harris's
Ferry. There I run across Noah Waxpenny--"
"So the sergeant didn't catch him?" interrupted Nathan.
"No, lad. We came on together to Philadelphia, and then across the
Jersies here. Waxpenny is out yonder now, washin' off the dust of
travel. He's a queer chap, but--"
Just then Mr. Waxpenny himself entered the room, looking as fresh and
clean as though he had just stepped off ship.
"I am informed that Major Gerald Langdon is here," he said, rubbing his
lean fingers. "Also Captain Richard Stanbury and his son. I have the
honor to represent the firm of Sharswood & Feeman, solicitors, Lincoln's
Inn, London. They sent me to this country in the interests of their late
estimable client, the Earl of Ravenswood--"
"Your errand is already known," the Major interrupted, faintly. "My
minutes are numbered, and what you have to tell no longer concerns me.
But there stands the new Earl of Ravenswood, and his son, Lord Langdon."
"Sir, these gentlemen have no claim to the titles," said Mr. Waxpenny.
"No claim?" demanded the Major. Nathan and his father looked surprised,
and Barnabas nodded at them meaningly.
"I said no claim," repeated Mr. Waxpenny. "The Earl had--a third and
elder son, Anthony--"
"He died years ago," gasped Major Langdon.
"Exactly, sir; but he left a wife and son behind him."
Having made this announcement Mr. Waxpenny paused a moment to enjoy its
thrilling effect. "Anthony Langdon was a wild and dissipated young man,"
he continued. "Under an assumed name he was married in London in the
year 1759. In the following year, after a son had been born to him, he
tired of his family, deserted them, and came home. A week later he was
stabbed in a drunken brawl in Nottingham. Before he died he confessed
his marriage to his father, who chose, for reasons that may be
understood, to keep the secret locked in his own bosom."
Mr. Waxpenny stopped to stroke his chin. "The deserted wife," he
resumed, "was a proud and high-spirited woman. Feeling satisfied that
her husband had tired of her, she emigrated to America with her father
and her son, where the Earl kept track of them for a time. They were
worthy and upright people, and the knowledge of this fact doubtless
prompted him to make confession and restitution on his deathbed. By the
terms of his will, which was entrusted to my employers, one-half of the
estate is divided equally between his sons Gerald and Richard. The other
half goes to Anthony's son, who is the rightful Earl of Ravenswood."
"Have you found him?" asked the major.
"I regret to say that I have made no progress as yet," replied Mr.
Waxpenny. "The lad would now be eighteen years of age. The name of his
maternal grandfather was Matthew Marsham, and he himself was called by
the assumed name of his father, Godfrey Spencer--"
Godfrey sprang forward, his face as pale as ashes. "Sir, my grandfather
was Matthew Marsham," he cried. "I am Godfrey Spencer, and my mother is
still living."
Mr. Waxpenny tried hard to preserve his legal dignity, but the effort
was vain. "You are Godfrey Spencer?" he exclaimed excitedly. "Yes, you
have the family likeness. And can you prove your claim?"
"My mother has the papers, sir--the certificate of her marriage and my
birth."
"Then you are the Earl of Ravenswood," declared Mr. Waxpenny, rubbing
his hands with delight. "My Lord, I congratulate you." He made the lad a
sweeping and impressive bow.
Godfrey blushed with confusion, and looked around him in a dazed manner.
"It seems like a dream," he said. "I can hardly realize it. Major
Langdon is my uncle, and so are you, Captain Stanbury--"
"And you and I are cousins, Godfrey," cried Nathan. "I am glad to hear
of your good fortune, and I don't envy you one bit. I wish you all
happiness and prosperity."
"Thank you, Nathan," Godfrey replied huskily, and the lads
affectionately clasped hands.
* * * * *
It is now time to drop the curtain. After several hours of
unconsciousness, Major Langdon died peacefully at daybreak, and was
buried a few hours later in a grove of oaks near the farmer's house. As
soon as the sad ceremony was over the whole party started for New
Brunswick, under the escort of the yeomen.
From there Godfrey and Noah Waxpenny pushed on to New York. The lad was
sick of the war, and a week later he sailed, with his mother and the
law-clerk, for England, where he speedily proved his claim to the title
and estate of the deceased Earl of Ravenswood.
Captain Stanbury, Nathan, and Barnabas rejoined Washington's army, and
fought bravely until the surrender of Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown ended
the long struggle, and gave the United Colonies their freedom.
A few months later Godfrey persuaded his uncle to accept half of the
late earl's estate, and with a portion of the money, Captain Richard
Langdon--to give him his rightful name--bought a handsome property in
the suburbs of Philadelphia. There he and Nathan lived happily together,
keeping up their old friendship with Cornelius De Vries, and
occasionally visited by Barnabas Otter, who had gone back to his beloved
Wyoming Valley at the close of the war.
In after years, when his father was at rest on the banks of the
Delaware, Nathan made more than one visit to his ancestral home in
England, where he and Godfrey lived over again in the past, and the ties
of kinship that connected the cousins were not more strong than the
memory of the distant days when they had suffered and fought together
for the sake of Captain Stanbury's mysterious papers.
THE END
* * * * *
Transcriber's Note:
Punctuation and spelling standardized when a predominant
preference was found in this book; otherwise unchanged. Simple
typographical errors remedied; most retained.