*Teler*. 'Tis a brave venture, our good master Jansen,
And needs a man of pluck to carry it.
*Jansen*. Danger, say you? and mystery to back it!
Say no more, Teler--I'm the man for you.--_Old Drama_.
Millmont, the residence of Thomas Coe, Esq, on his plantation of the
same name, near the head of Saint John's creek, was a large, two-storey
frame building, with single-storey wings. Each of these wings contained
one room, with an attic above, and was connected with the main building
by a short and narrow passage or entry. In one of these wings was the
chamber of John Alvan Coe. It was a large room, with windows sheltered
by Venetian blinds, and opening almost to the floor. A large yard,
shaded by several old trees, extended from the front of the house and
from the gables of the wings; the garden, in the usual fashion when
attached to plantation houses of that time, was on the fourth side, or
in the rear of the buildings.
John Alvan Coe not only escaped from his pursuers, but arrived home
before the two negro men who had accompanied him. He at once entered
his room, and in a few moments--having first loaded his pistols and
placed them on a table near the head of his bed, and having seen that
the window-shutters were all made fast--sprung into bed, and was soon
deep in that sound and refreshing sleep which fatigue always assures to
healthy youth.
About four o'clock, or at the earliest "peep of day," the young man was
aroused from his slumbers by a light, grating noise, made by running a
stick or a finger down along the outside of the Venetian shutters of one
of the windows of his room. He immediately started from his sleep.
"Who is there?" he exclaimed.
"Get up, John, and let me in, quickly," said a voice from the outside of
the window. "I have something interesting to tell you."
"Is that you, Harry Marston?" asked John. "Wait a moment till I get on
some of my clothes."
In a few minutes the early visitor was admitted into the chamber. It
was, as John had supposed, Henry Marston, the son of a wealthy planter
in the neighbourhood. Being of an adventurous and roving disposition,
he had been unwillingly allowed by his parents, some years before, to
enter upon a seafaring life. He had risen rapidly in his chosen
profession, and was now captain of the _Sea-bird_, a merchant vessel in
which his father owned an interest, and which was engaged in trading
between Baltimore and certain ports in the West Indies and along the
Spanish main.
Young Marston was tall and handsome. His hair and the slight moustache
which shaded his upper lip were of dark brown hue. His dark, hazel eyes
were expressive, at the first glance, of both gentleness and resolution;
but a second, and more observant look, discovered something more in
them--a something that created uneasiness and a want of trust. Every
movement of his body seemed instinct with grace. His voice was soft and
musical, but it did not at all remind you of the singing of birds or of
the tones of other cheerful and innocent creatures. Still, there was a
peculiar fascination in his speech and manner, which possessed a great
influence over certain natures. The young man was on this occasion
dressed in a handsome suit of black broadcloth.
"How _are_ you, Harry?" exclaimed John, as soon as his visitor entered
the room. "This is, indeed, a surprise, and a delightful one. When did
you get back home?"
"Last night," was the answer, "or, rather, I should say this morning,
since it was fully one o'clock when I got home. Everybody was aroused
from sleep by my arrival; and the old folks insisted upon dressing and
coming down to see me at once. All the little ones, too, came out of
their nests to see the long-absent Harry. Thus, it was nearly three
o'clock before I got a chance of retiring to my chamber, by which time
the excitement of seeing so many loved ones banished from me all
weariness and inclination to sleep. And this brings me to the cause of
my so early visit to you."
"In the delight of seeing you," said John, "I had forgotten that subject
entirely."
"When I entered my chamber," continued Henry Marston, "I found upon the
floor, directly in front of the door by which I had come in, this
singular and enigmatical card, enclosed in an envelope directed to my
address--`Captain Henry Marston, Blue Oldfields'--the name of my
father's place, you know. Remembering your fondness for adventure--we
are alike in that respect, in truth--I came over here at once, to ask
your assistance in developing the mystery. There is no time for delays,
you see, as to-day is the twenty-first."
The young sailor handed to his friend a card, on which was written, in
letters imitating print, these words:
_May 21st, 1817, at 5:12 a.m_.
At the Spout.
_The number is_ *eight*.
Be *Prompt*--*Be True*.
_Forget not the Pass_. "A F E."
"What do you want to do?" asked John, after reading the words on the
card. "I can make but little meaning out of this."
"Why, of course," replied Marston, "I want you to go with me to this
rendezvous. I am determined to find out the mystery. You see, there
will be eight there--seven besides myself; at any rate, that is what I
understand the card to mean. If anything be wrong, I can scarcely hope
to contend successfully against seven men. At an hour so early, few
upon whom I could call for help will be about--probably not one at that
lonely place. Yet I am determined, at all hazards, to solve the
mystery. If you think there is too much risk in the affair, John, I
will go by myself."
"As to that matter," said John, "you know that I don't care about the
risk, as you call it; so that if you are determined to go I will
accompany you. But the affair may be only a joke; and I don't wish to
do anything that will make me the subject of laughter."
"It may be a joke to try my courage," observed Marston. "In any view of
the case," he continued, after a pause, "I am determined to make the
venture."
"And I shall accompany you," said John. "The place designated, I
suppose, is the Spout on Saint Leonard's Creek?"
"Of course it is," was the answer. "There is no other place in this
neighbourhood called the Spout."
"But my going with you," said John, reflectively, "may be the very cause
of danger to you, since I have received no card of invitation. By the
way, what is that piece of paper on the floor behind you near the door.
Bless my life!" he continued, picking up the paper; "it is addressed to
me, and contains, word for word, a card like the one addressed to you."
"You will go now, I suppose, unhesitatingly," said Captain Marston.
"Certainly," was the reply. "But I had better awaken one of the
servants, and leave a message for the family."
"There is no use in doing that," said Henry. "I left no message at
home. We shall be back, in all probability, by the time they are up.
Have you not a pair of pistols? I remember that we each bought, in
Baltimore, a pair precisely alike, during my last visit home. We should
go well armed, and in that condition, I think, as we are both good
shots, and not at all nervous, that we shall be very nearly, if not
quite, a match for the other six."
"My pistols," answered young Coe, "are here on the table, and ready for
use. I loaded them immediately on my return from a drum-fishing
excursion last night, on account of an adventure which befell me on my
way home. This card may have something to do with that adventure."
"Ah! What is that adventure to which you refer!" asked Captain Marston,
with much expression of interest.
While young Coe was relating to his friend the incidents of the night,
he was also engaged in dressing. During the process of dressing, while
young Coe's eyes were turned for a moment or two away from Marston, the
latter took up the pistols which had been lying upon the table, and
placed them in his pockets, and immediately afterwards put upon the
table in their place another pair of pistols which were precisely
similar in appearance to the former, and which he had withdrawn from
another pair of pockets in his dress.
"What befell you last night," remarked the captain, when John had
concluded his narrative, "can have nothing to do with the present
affair, because they could not have recognised you under the
circumstances; and, besides, I should not have received a card as well
as you, since I had nothing to do with that adventure."
"True," replied John. "Yet I may have been recognised; who knows but
that one or more persons of this neighbourhood who knows me are engaged
in this smuggling business, and were there disguised? Moreover, the
card sent to you also may be intended to put me off my guard."
"If you feel any uneasiness about the matter," said Captain Marston,
"you had better, perhaps, not go. I shall go, however, at all risks."
"Oh!" exclaimed John, in an easy tone; "my thinking the affair a plot
will not prevent me from trying to discover its meaning. If it be a
trap to catch me, that trap is well set; for what is more apt to draw
one on to adventure than mystery, especially when that mystery is
awaited on by apparent peril? I am determined to solve the riddle, let
it be attended by what danger it may be."
"Come, then," said the captain, "are you ready? If so, let us go at
once. Time is pressing."
The two men then left the house, and proceeded to the stable, where John
soon saddled two horses for the ride. Mounting, they rode slowly, for
fear of disturbing the sleep of the household, down a land bordered with
old cherry-trees, which led from the dwelling at Millmont to the public
road at the distance of a few hundred yards; but on gaining this road
their horses were urged to a fast gallop.
The daylight was now shining broad and bright, although there was nearly
half an hour to sunrise. The sky was softly blue, and clear of clouds,
save a few light and fleecy ones, which sailed slowly along, seemingly
far away in the depths of ether. "A dewy freshness filled the air,"
which was cool and bracing, and made sweet by the fragrant breath of
grasses and leaves, and of the humble wild flowers which grew on either
side of the road.
The stimulating character of the atmosphere, and the elastic motion of
their steeds, stirred the blood of the young men to a more, rapid
circulation, and aroused them to a full enjoyment of the adventure in
which they were engaged.
"What a strange and inexpressible pleasure there is in danger!" said
John. "There seems to me to be no enjoyment in life, unless there be
obstacles to overcome, and perils to meet."
"I agree with you," said Captain Marston. "But it requires caution as
well as courage to win for us in the battle of life. Has it occurred to
you that we have not the password to admit us to the rendezvous?"
"No," replied John. "But what is the use of it? We have received cards
of invitation, and we know the place and hour of meeting."
"So we do," said Marston; "yet a want of knowledge of this password may
give us inconvenience as well as trouble."
"Probably," suggested Coe, "the letters `A F E' are the password."
"But," objected Captain Marston, "perhaps they are only the initials of
it; and in that case, the question arises, what do they stand for? It
is well to be armed against all contingencies."
"True," consented John. "But I am sure I have no idea what they can
mean. Let me think for a minute or two."
"Don't you remember," asked Marston, "the English story, which we read
together when we were schoolboys, about a mysterious secret society?
Can you recollect the initials of their password?"
"Yes," was the ready reply; "they are `O F A--A F O,' which, being
interpreted, mean `One for All, All for One.' Let me see! `A F E.'
All for each. I wonder if that is not the password in this case?"
"Very probable," assented Marston. "If necessary, let us try it, at all
events."
This proposition was agreed to. As the distance between Millmont and
the Spout, over a road which traversed, in rapidly succeeding
alternations, fields and forests, hills and plains, was fully nine
miles, the two young men were obliged to put their horses to a tolerably
high speed to reach the place of their destination in time. But little
more conversation passed between them, therefore, until they arrived at
the head of the ravine, down which their road led to the shore of Saint
Leonard's Creek.