Contrary to his usual habits of punctuality, Mr. Wilks did not return
to luncheon at the Hall, and it was two hours later before he came in,
looking fagged and anxious. He had been to all the farm houses within
two miles of the scene of the fight, and had ascertained, for certain,
that Jim was not lying wounded at any of them. At first, his inquiries
had everywhere been coldly received. There was scarce a farm house near
the coast, but the occupants had relations with the smugglers,
assisting with their carts and men at the landings, or having hiding
places where goods could be stowed away. At first, therefore, all
professed entire ignorance of the events of the previous night; but,
when persuaded by the earnestness of the old soldier's manner that his
mission was a friendly one, they became more communicative, and even
owned that some of their men had been taken prisoners and marched to
Weymouth; but none of them had heard of any wounded man being in
hiding.
Convinced, at last, that James must have gone off to the lugger, Mr.
Wilks returned to Sidmouth, a prey to great anxiety. Everything
depended now on whether the lugger was captured. If so, James would
have to stand his trial for being concerned in the fight on the beach,
and, as two of the revenue men had been killed, his sentence might be a
heavy one.
If she got away, all would be well. They would doubtless hear by letter
from Jim, and it would be better that he should not return at present
to Sidmouth, but should at once take up his residence in London, and
commence his studies there.
He met the squire just as the latter was starting for Sidmouth.
"Well, Wilks, we began to think that you were lost," he said,
cheerfully. "Aggie was downstairs to lunch, and was mightily offended
that you should not be there at her first appearance.
"But you look tired and fagged. Has anything gone wrong?"
"Things have gone very wrong, squire."
And he related to his friend all the news that he had gathered, and his
conviction that James Walsham was on board the lugger.
"This is a pretty kettle of fish," the squire said irritably. "What on
earth did the boy mean by getting himself mixed up with such an affair
as that?"
"It is a foolish business, squire," the old soldier agreed. "But we
can't expect wise heads on young shoulders, I suppose. He, somehow or
other, learnt the surprise which the revenue men intended, and as most
of his friends, the fishermen, would probably be concerned in it, he
went to give them notice, intending, no doubt, to go quietly back again
before the revenue men arrived. I don't know that he's altogether to be
blamed in the matter. Most young fellows would do the same."
"Well, I suppose they would," the squire agreed reluctantly; "but it is
a most awkward business. If the lad gets caught, and gets two or three
years' imprisonment, it will ruin his prospects in life. His mother
will be broken hearted over the business, and I am sure Aggie will take
it terribly to heart. They were great friends of old, though she hasn't
seen much of him for the last two or three years, and, of course, that
affair of the other day has made quite a hero of him."
"We must hope the lugger will get safely over to France," his companion
said. "Then no great harm will have been done."
"We must hope so," the squire assented moodily. "Confound the young
jackanapes, turning everything upside down, and upsetting us all with
his mad-brain freaks."
Mrs. Walsham was greatly distressed, when the news was broken to her by
Mr. Wilks, and Aggie cried so that the squire, at last, said she must
go straight up to bed unless she stopped, for she would be making
herself ill again. When she was somewhat pacified, the matter was
discussed in every light, but the only conclusion to be arrived at was,
that their sole hope rested in the hugger getting safely off.
"Of course, my dear madam," the squire said, "if they are taken I will
do my best to get a pardon for your son. I am afraid he will have to
stand his trial with the rest; but I think that, with the
representations I will make as to his good character, I may get a
mitigation, anyhow, of a sentence. If they find out that it was he who
gave the alarm, there will be no hope of a pardon; but if that doesn't
come out, one would represent his being there as a mere boyish freak of
adventure, and, in that case, I might get him a free pardon. You must
not take the matter too seriously to heart. It was a foolish business,
and that is the worst that can be said of it."
"I think it was a grand thing," Aggie said indignantly, "for him to
risk being shot, and imprisoned, and all sorts of dreadful things, just
to save other people."
"And I think you are a goose, Aggie," the squire said. "If everyone
were to go and mix themselves up in other people's business, there
would be no end of trouble. I suppose next you will say that, if you
heard me arranging with the constable to make a capture of some
burglars, you would think it a grand thing to put on your hat to run
off to warn them."
"Oh, grandpapa, how can you say such a thing!" the girl said. "Burglars
and smugglers are quite different. Burglars are wicked men, and thieves
and robbers. Smugglers are not, they are only trying to get goods in
without paying duty."
"They try to rob the king, my dear, and in the eyes of the law are just
as criminal as burglars. Both of them are leagued to break the law, and
both will resist and take life if they are interfered with. I allow
that, in general estimation, the smugglers are looked upon in a more
favourable light, and that a great many people, who ought to know
better, are in league with them, but that does not alter the facts of
the case."
The girl did not argue the question, but the squire was perfectly aware
that he had in no way convinced her, and that her feeling, that James
Walsham's action was a highly meritorious one, was in no way shaken. It
was agreed that nothing was to be said about James's absence, and,
after taking some refreshment, Mr. Wilks went down into Sidmouth again,
to tell the girl at Mrs. Walsham's that she was not to gossip about
James being away.
Three days later, a letter was received by the squire from Richard
Horton.
"I am taking the opportunity of writing a few lines to you, my dear
uncle, as I have a chance of sending it ashore by the revenue cutter
Thistle, which is lying alongside of us. Between us, we have just
captured a rascally smuggling lugger, with a cargo of lace, silk, and
spirits. You will, I am sure, be surprised and grieved to hear that
among the crew of the lugger was James Walsham. I could hardly believe
my eyes, when I saw him in such disreputable company. It will be a sad
blow for his poor mother. As we were short of hands, our captain
offered the crew of the lugger the choice of shipping with us, or being
sent on shore for trial. Most of them chose the former alternative,
among them James Walsham, of which I was glad, as his mother will be
spared the disgrace of his being placed in the dock with his
associates. I need not say that if I could have obtained his release, I
should have done so, knowing that you had a high opinion of him; but it
was, of course, out of my power to interfere."
The squire was alone in his study when he received the letter, for it
was midday before the post arrived at Sidmouth, when a man from the
Hall went down each day, with a bag, to fetch the letters. He rang the
bell, and ordered the servant to tell Mr. Wilks he should be glad if he
would step in to him. When his friend came, he handed him the letter
without a word.
"That settles the matter," he said, as he threw the letter angrily down
upon the table. "A malicious young viper! I wish I had him here."
"It is not nicely worded," the squire said gravely; "but it was an
unpleasant story to have to tell."
"It was not an unpleasant story for him to tell," the old soldier said
hotly. "There is malice in every line of it. He speaks of the men as
James's associates, talks about the disgrace he would bring on his
mother. There's malice, squire, in every line of it."
"I'm afraid it's a bad letter," the squire assented gravely.
"It's a natural letter," Mr. Wilks said savagely. "It is written in a
hurry, and he's had no time to pick and choose his words, and round off
his sentences, as he generally does in his letters to you. He was so
full of malicious exultation that he did not think how much he was
showing his feeling, as he wrote."
"It's a bad letter and a nasty letter," the squire assented; "but let
that pass, now. The first question is--How are we to tell Jim's mother?
Do you think it will be a relief to her, or otherwise?"
"It will be a blow to know that the lugger has been captured," Mr.
Wilks said--"a severe blow, no doubt, for her escape is what we have
been building our hopes upon. It will be a heavy blow, too, for her to
know that James is a seaman before the mast; that it will be years
before she will see him again, and that all her plans for his future
are upset. But I think this will be much better for her than if she
knew he was a prisoner, and would have to stand a trial.
"Between ourselves, squire, as far as the lad himself is concerned, I
am not sure that he will be altogether sorry that events have turned
out as they have. In our talks together, he has often confided to me
that his own inclinations were altogether for a life of activity and
adventure; but that, as his mother's heart was so set upon his
following his father's profession, he had resolved upon never saying a
word, to her, which would lead her to suppose that his own wishes lay
in any other direction. This business will give him the opportunity he
has longed for, to see the world, without his appearing in any way to
thwart his mother's plans."
"At any rate," the squire said, "I am heartily glad he has got off
being tried. Even if I had got a free pardon for him, it would have
been a serious slur upon him that he had been imprisoned, and would
have been awkward for us all in the future. I think, Wilks, I will
leave it to you to break it to his mother."
"Very well," the other agreed. "It is an unpleasant business, squire;
but perhaps I had better do it. It may console her if I tell her that,
at heart, he always wanted to go to sea, and that, accustomed as he is
to knock about in the fishermen's boats, he will find it no hardship on
board a man o' war, and will come back, in the course of two or three
years, none the worse for his cruise. She may think he will take up
doctoring again after that, though I have my doubts whether he will do
that. However, there is no use in telling her so. Shall I show her that
letter, squire?"
"No," the squire replied, "of course you can tell her what's in it; but
I will keep the letter myself. I would give a good deal if he had not
written it. It is certainly badly worded, though why he should feel any
malice, towards the other, is more than I can tell."
His companion was about to speak, but thought better of it, and,
without another word, went to break the news to Mrs. Walsham.
Mrs. Walsham was terribly upset. After suffering her to cry for some
time in silence, Mr. Wilks said:
"My dear madam, I know that this news must distress you terribly; but
it may be that in this, as in all things, a providence has overruled
your plans for your son, for his own good. I will tell you now what you
would never have known had this affair never occurred. Jim, at heart,
hates his father's profession. He is a dutiful son and, rather than
give you pain, he was prepared to sacrifice all his own feelings and
wishes. But the lad is full of life and energy. The dull existence of a
country surgeon, in a little town like this, is the last he would adopt
as his own choice; and I own that I am not surprised that a lad of
spirit should long for a more adventurous life. I should have told you
this long ago, and advised you that it would be well for you both to
put it frankly to him that, although you would naturally like to see
him following his father's profession, still that you felt that he
should choose for himself; and that, should he select any other mode of
life, you would not set your wishes against his. But the lad would not
hear of my doing so. He said that, rather than upset your cherished
plans, he would gladly consent to settle down in Sidmouth for life. I
honoured him for his filial spirit; but, frankly, I think he was wrong.
An eagle is not made to live in a hen coop, nor a spirited lad to
settle down in a humdrum village; and I own that, although I regret the
manner of his going, I cannot look upon it as an unmixed evil, that the
force of circumstances has taken him out of the course marked out for
him, and that he will have an opportunity of seeing life and
adventure."
Mrs. Walsham had listened, with a surprise too great to admit of her
interrupting the old soldier's remarks.
"I never dreamed of this," she said at last, when he ceased. "I cannot
remember, now, that I ever asked him, but I took it for granted that he
would like nothing better than to follow in his father's steps. Had I
known that he objected to it, I would not for a moment have forced him
against his inclinations. Of course it is natural that, being alone in
the world, I should like to have him with me still, but I would never
have been so selfish as to have sacrificed his life to mine. Still,
though it would be hard to have parted from him in any way, it is
harder still to part like this. If he was to go, he need not have gone
as a common sailor. The squire, who has done so much for him, would no
doubt, instead of sending him to school, have obtained a midshipman's
berth for him, or a commission in the army; but it is dreadful to think
of him as a common sailor, liable to be flogged."
"Well, Mrs. Walsham, perhaps we may set the matter partly to rights. I
will speak to the squire, and I am sure he will write to his friend at
the admiralty, and have an order sent out, at once, for Jim's
discharge. At the same time, it would be better that he should not
return here just at present. His name may come out, at the trial of the
smugglers, as being concerned in the affair, and it would be better
that he should stay away, till that matter blows over. At any rate, if
I were you I should write to him, telling him that you know now that he
has no taste for the medical profession, and that, should he see
anything that he thinks will suit him in America, you would not wish
him to come home immediately, if he has a fancy for staying out there;
but that, if he chooses to return, you are sure that the squire will
exert himself, to give him a start in any other profession he may
choose."
Mrs. Walsham agreed to carry out the suggestion and, that afternoon,
the squire sent off a letter to his friend at the admiralty, and three
letters were also posted to James himself.
The voyage of the Thetis was uneventful. Her destination was Hampton,
at the opening of Chesapeake Bay, where the troops on board would join
the expedition under General Braddock, which was advancing up the
Potomac. When she arrived there, they found several ships of war under
Commodore Keppel. Braddock's force had marched to Wills Creek, where a
military post named Fort Cumberland had been formed. The soldiers on
board were at once disembarked, and marched up the banks of the Potomac
to join the force at Fort Cumberland. The sailors were employed in
taking stores up the river in boats.
James Walsham had done his best, during the voyage, to acquire a
knowledge of his duties. His experience in the fishing boats was useful
to him now, and he was soon able to do his work as an able-bodied
seaman. His good spirits and willingness rendered him a general
favourite. He was glad that he was not put in the same watch with
Richard Horton, as, after their first meeting, the young lieutenant
showed no signs of recognition. He was not, James found, popular among
the men. He was exacting and overbearing with them, and some on board,
who had served with him on his previous voyage, had many tales to his
disadvantage.
A fortnight after the arrival of the Thetis at Hampton, orders were
issued among the ships of war for thirty volunteers for Braddock's
expedition, of which the Thetis was to furnish ten. So many sent in
their names, that the first lieutenant had difficulty in choosing ten,
who were looked upon with envy by the rest of the ship's company; for
there seemed little chance, at present, of fighting at sea, and the
excitement of a march on shore, with adventures of all sorts, and
encounters with the French and their Indian allies, seemed delightful
to the tars.
Upon the following day a ship arrived from England and, an hour
afterwards, an order was passed forward that the first lieutenant
wanted James Walsham upon the quarterdeck.
"Walsham," he said, "an order has just come from the admiralty for your
discharge, and you are to have a passage in the first ship returning,
if you choose to take it. I am sorry you are leaving the ship, for I
have noticed that you show great willingness and activity, and will
make a first-rate sailor. Still, I suppose, your friends in England did
not care about your remaining before the mast."
James touched his hat and walked forward. He was scarcely surprised,
for he had thought that his mother would probably ask the squire to use
his influence to obtain his discharge. He scarcely knew whether he was
glad or sorry. He was in a false position, and could not hope for
promotion except by some lucky chance, such as was not likely to occur,
of distinguishing himself.
At the same time, he sighed as he thought that he must now return and
take up the profession for which his mother had intended him. A quarter
of an hour later, however, the ship's corporal came round and
distributed the mails, and James, to his delight, found there were
three letters for him. He tore open that from his mother. It began by
gently upbraiding him for getting himself mixed up in the fight between
the smugglers and the revenue men.
"In the next place, my dear boy," she said, "I must scold you, even
more, for not confiding in your mother as to your wishes about your
future profession. Mr. Wilks has opened my eyes to the fact that, while
I have all along been taking it for granted, that your wishes agreed
with mine as to your profession, you have really been sacrificing all
your own inclinations in order to avoid giving me pain. I am very
thankful to him for having opened my eyes, for I should have been
grieved indeed had I found, when too late, that I had chained you down
to a profession you dislike.
"Of course, I should have liked to have had you with me, but in no case
would have had you sacrifice yourself; still less now, when I have met
with such kind friends, and am happy and comfortable in my life.
Therefore, my boy, let us set aside at once all idea of your becoming a
doctor. There is no occasion for you to choose, immediately, what you
will do. You are too old now to enter the royal navy, and it is well
that, before you finally decide on a profession, you have the
opportunity of seeing something of the world.
"I inclose bank notes for a hundred pounds so that, if you like, you
can stay for a few weeks or months in the colonies, and then take your
passage home from New York or Boston. By that time, too, all talk about
this affair with the smugglers will have ceased; but, as your name is
likely to come out at the trial of the men who were taken, so the
squire thinks it will be better for you to keep away, for a time."
The rest of the letter was filled up with an account of the excitement
and alarm which had been felt when he was first missed.
"We were glad, indeed," she said, "when a letter was received from
Richard Horton, saying that you were on board the Thetis. Mr. Wilks
tells me it was an abominably spiteful letter, and I am sure the squire
thinks so, too, from the tone in which he spoke this afternoon about
his nephew; but I can quite forgive him, for, if it had not been for
his letter, we should not have known what had become of you, and many
months might have passed before we might have heard from you in
America. As it is, only four or five days have been lost, and the
squire is writing tonight to obtain your discharge, which he assures me
there will be no difficulty whatever about."
The squire's was a very cordial letter, and he, too, enclosed notes for
a hundred pounds.
"Mr. Wilks tells me," he said, "that you do not like the thought of
doctoring. I am not surprised, and I think that a young fellow, of such
spirit and courage as you have shown, ought to be fitted for something
better than administering pills and draughts to the old women of
Sidmouth. Tell me frankly, when you write, what you would like. You
are, of course, too old for the royal navy. If you like to enter the
merchant service, I have no doubt I could arrange with some shipping
firm in Bristol, and would take care that, by the time you get to be
captain, you should also be part owner of the ship. If, on the other
hand, you would like to enter the army--and it seems to me that there
are stirring times approaching--I think that, through one or other of
my friends in London, I could obtain a commission for you. If there is
anything else you would like better than this, you may command my best
services. I never forget how much I am indebted to you for my present
happiness, and, whatever I can do for you, still shall feel myself
deeply your debtor."
The old soldier wrote a characteristic letter. In the first place, he
told James that he regarded him as a fool, for mixing up in an affair
in which he had no concern whatever. Then he congratulated him on the
fact that circumstances had broken the chain from which he would never
otherwise have freed himself.
"You must not be angry with me," he said, "for having betrayed your
confidence, and told the truth to your mother. I did it in order to
console her, by showing her that things were, after all, for the best;
and I must say that madam took my news in the very best spirit, and I
am sure you will see this by her letter to you. There is no one I
honour and esteem more than I do her, and I was sure, all along, that
you were making a mistake in not telling her frankly what your wishes
were. Now you have got a roving commission for a time, and it will be
your own fault if you don't make the best of it. There is likely to be
an exciting time in the colonies, and you are not the lad I take you
for, if you dawdle away your time in the towns, instead of seeing what
is going on in the forest."
These letters filled James with delight, and, without an hour's delay,
he sat down to answer them. In his letter to the squire he thanked him
most warmly for his kindness, and said that, above all things, he
should like a commission in the army. He wrote a very tender and
affectionate letter to his mother, telling her how much he felt her
goodness in so promptly relinquishing her own plans, and in allowing
him to choose the life he liked.
"Thank Aggie," he concluded, "for the message she sent by you. Give her
my love, and don't let her forget me."
To the old soldier he wrote a gossipping account of his voyage.
"It was impossible," he said, "for the news of my discharge to have
come at a better moment. Thirty sailors from the fleet are going with
General Braddock's force, and everyone else is envying their good
luck--I among them. Now I shall go up, at once, and join the Virginian
regiment which is accompanying them. I shall join that, instead of
either of the line regiments, as I can leave when I like. Besides, if
the squire is able to get me a commission, it would have been
pleasanter for me to have been fighting here as a volunteer, than as a
private in the line.
"By the way, nobody thinks there will be much fighting, so don't let my
mother worry herself about me; but, at any rate, a march through the
great forests of this country, with a chance of a brush with the
redskins, will be great fun. Perhaps, by the time it is over, I may get
a letter from you saying that I have got my commission. As I hear there
is a chance of a regular war between the French and us out here, the
commission may be for a regiment on this side."
After finishing his letters, and giving them to the ship's corporal to
place in the next post bag, James said goodbye to his messmates, and
prepared to go on shore. The ten men chosen for the expedition were
also on the point of starting. Richard Horton was standing near, in a
state of great discontent that he had not been chosen to accompany them
in their expedition. James Walsham stepped up to him, and touched his
hat respectfully.
"I wish to thank you, Lieutenant Horton, for your extremely kind
letter, telling my friends that I was on board this ship. It has been
the means of my obtaining my discharge at once, instead of having to
serve, for many months, before I could send the news home and obtain an
answer in return."
Without another word he turned and, walking to the gangway, took his
place in a boat about starting with some sailors for the shore, leaving
Richard Horton in a state of fury, with himself, for having been the
means of obtaining James's discharge. He had already, more than once,
felt uncomfortable as he thought of the wording of the letter; and that
this indulgence of his spite had had the effect of restoring James's
liberty, rendered him well-nigh mad with rage.
On landing, James Walsham at once disposed of his sailor's clothes, and
purchased a suit similar to those worn by the colonists; then he
obtained a passage up the river to Alexandria, where the transports
which had brought the troops were still lying. Here, one of the
companies of the Virginia corps was stationed, and James, finding that
they were expecting, every day, to be ordered up to Wills Creek,
determined to join them at once.
The scene was a busy one. Stores were being landed from the transports,
teamsters were loading up their waggons, officers were superintending
the operations, the men of the Virginia corps, who wore no uniform, but
were attired in the costume used by hunters and backwoodsmen; namely, a
loose hunting shirt, short trousers or breeches, and gaiters; were
moving about unconcernedly, while a few of them, musket on shoulder,
were on guard over the piles of stores.
Presently a tall, slightly-built young man, with a pleasant but
resolute face, came riding along, and checked his horse close to where
James was standing. James noticed that the men on sentry, who had, for
the most part, been sitting down on fallen logs of wood, bales, or
anything else which came handy; with their muskets across their knees,
or leaning beside them; got up and began pacing to and fro, with some
semblance of military position.
"Who is that young man?" he asked a teamster standing by.
"That is Colonel Washington," the man replied, "one of the smartest of
the colonial officers."
"Why, he only looks two or three and twenty," James said in surprise.
"He is not more than that," the man said; "but age don't go for much
here, and Colonel Washington is adjutant general of the Virginian
militia. Only a few months back, he made a journey with despatches,
right through the forests to the French station at Port de Beuf, and,
since then, he has been in command of the party which went out to build
a fort, at the forks of the Ohio, and had some sharp fighting with the
French. A wonderful smart young officer they say he is, just as cool,
when the bullets are flying, as if sitting on horseback."
James resolved, at once, that he would speak to Colonel Washington, and
ask him if he could join the Virginian militia. He accordingly went up
to him, and touched his hat.
"If you please, sir, I am anxious to join the Virginian militia, and,
as they tell me that you are adjutant general, I have come to ask you
if I can do so."
"I see no difficulty in it, my lad," the colonel said; "but if you have
run away from home, in search of adventure, I should advise you to go
back again, for we are likely to have heavy work."
"I don't mind that, sir, and I have not run away. I am English. I was
pressed on board a frigate, and was brought over here, but my friends
in England procured my discharge, which came for me here, a fortnight
after my arrival. They are, I believe, about to obtain for me a
commission in a king's regiment; but, as I was here, I thought that I
should like to see some service, as it may be some months before I hear
that I have got my commission. I would rather if I could join as a
volunteer, as I do not want pay, my friends having supplied me amply
with money."
"You seem to be a lad of spirit," Colonel Washington said, "and I will
at once put you in the way of doing what you desire. You shall join the
Virginian corps as a volunteer. Have you money enough to buy a horse?"
"Yes, plenty," Jim said. "I have two hundred pounds."
"Then you had better leave a hundred and fifty, at least, behind you,"
the colonel said. "I will direct you to a trader here, with whom you
can bank it. You can get an excellent horse for twenty pounds. I asked
you because, if you like, I can attach you to myself. I often want a
mounted messenger; and, of course, as a volunteer, you would mess with
me."
"I should like it above all things," James said thankfully.
"Then we will at once go to the tent of the officer commanding this
company," Washington said, "and enroll you as a volunteer."
On reaching the tent, Washington dismounted and led the way in.
"Captain Hall," he said, "this is a young English gentleman, who will
shortly have a commission in the king's army, but, in the meantime, he
wishes to see a little brisk fighting, so he is to be enrolled as a
volunteer in your company; but he is going to obtain a horse, and will
act as a sort of aide-de-camp to me."
Captain Hall at once entered James's name as a volunteer on the roll of
his company.
"Do you know of anyone who has a good horse for sale?" Washington
asked.
"Yes," the captain replied, "at least, there was a farmer here half an
hour ago with a good-looking horse which he wants to sell. I have no
doubt he is in the camp, still."
Captain Hall went to the door of the tent, and told two of the men
there to find the farmer, and tell him he had a purchaser for his
horse.
Ten minutes later the farmer came up, and James bought the horse,
Captain Hall doing the bargaining for him.
"Now," Washington said, "we will go round to the storekeeper I spoke
of, and deposit the best part of your money with him. I should only
take a pound or two, if I were you, for you will find no means of
spending money when you once set forward, and, should anything happen
to you, the Indians would not appreciate the value of those English
notes of yours. You will want a brace of pistols and a sword, a
blanket, and cooking pot--that is about the extent of your camp
equipment."