HAVERTON
When the _Sea-mew_ arrived at Bridlington Bay Hector Woodridge lay
at death's door, but the fever had somewhat abated and the ravings
ceased. He was completely exhausted, worn out, and Picton doubted if
he would have strength to struggle back to life.
Captain Ben had seen a good deal of illness and was confident he could
pull Hector round in time, but he said it would take many weeks.
What was to be done? Picton could not remain on the _Sea-mew_; his
absence would be noted at Haverton, where Brant Blackett was busy with
the horses and expecting his arrival daily.
"Abe Glovey is a good seaman, quite capable of looking after the
_Sea-mew_," said Ben. "There is no reason why she should not remain
here for a time; there will be nothing unusual about it. I will stay
until Hector is convalescent, or nearly so, and then join you at
Haverton. Glovey can take the _Sea-mew_ short cruises; when they are
away from the coast Hector can come on deck freely without danger.
Leave it all to me; I'll explain to him when he is well enough."
Picton thought this the best thing they could do.
He went ashore at Bridlington and from there traveled to Haverton. He
knew he was running a grave risk in having Hector on board his yacht.
He cared very little about that; all he wanted was for his brother
to get well. He was certain no one would recognize him, he was so
changed. It was a long, tedious journey to Haverton, and Picton was
glad when it was over, and he was in his own house again.
Mrs. Yeoman, the housekeeper, was surprised not to see Captain Bruce;
he was seldom away from Picton. He explained in answer to her question
that the Captain had remained on the _Sea-mew_ to see to some repairs
in the engineers' department. This only half satisfied her; she knew
McTavish was a capable man and could look after repairs himself. She
had a very kindly feeling toward Jack McTavish, who sometimes came
to Haverton and was not at all averse to a mild flirtation with the
buxom, comely widow.
When she saw Blackett she asked him what he thought about it.
"Why hasn't the Captain come with him? It's all moonshine his staying
on the _Sea-mew_ to see to repairs in the engine room. Mac's quite
good enough for that job," she said.
"It's none of your business, anyway," said Brant; "and as for
McTavish, you're prejudiced in his favor--I shouldn't wonder if you
aren't Sarah McTavish some day."
"Nonsense, Brant! I've had one dose of married life; I don't want to
try it again," she said.
"Give the poor man a chance; he's only one thing against him," said
the trainer.
"And pray what's that?" she asked.
"His name."
"Jack McTavish. I reckon it's the equal of Brant Blackett, anyway,"
she said.
He laughed as he answered: "You're always a bit touchy where the
McTavish is concerned. I wish you luck with him, Sarah. We'll see you
a Highland chieftainess before many months are passed. I'll put myself
in training and dance a reel after the ceremony's over."
"You're old enough to know better, and you ought to have more sense,"
she snapped, and walked away.
Picton had been at Haverton a week and still Captain Ben did not come.
He was anxious, but knew he could do no good if he went to the yacht;
he was better away. He rode several of the horses at work to keep
himself occupied, and was constantly roaming about the estate. He felt
lonely; he missed Ben sadly; he was such excellent company.
Haverton was a large mansion situated in one of the most beautiful
districts in Yorkshire. The mansion had an aspect of gentility, and
its various forms of architecture made it doubly interesting. The
strong tower on the North East dated from Plantagenet times, and was
a fine example of those peel towers on the border, of which the most
southern are in the north of Yorkshire. The west side was in the Tudor
times, showing the domestic architecture of the period. The two towers
were commanding features of the fine old mansion. The gardens were
lovely old-world places; clipped yews and flower beds intermingled on
the south terrace The entrance was imposing and the gates were
always open, as though the visitors were expected; the hospitality of
Haverton was proverbial, even in such a county as Yorkshire.
Picton was very proud of the old mansion, which had been in the
possession of the Woodridges for many generations. He loved the
glorious park with its magnificent trees, and undulating stretches of
land. Oaks of great age, with their knotted arms outstretched, studded
the landscape in all directions. There was a large lake, a mile long,
half a mile wide, and in it were pike of great size and weight. In
the river Aver, which flowed through the park, were trout, perch,
grayling, and many other kinds of fish, and here they were safe from
the voracious pike in the lake. Picton was a good angler, and he loved
to have a tussle with a twenty-four-pound pike, or a thirty-one-pound
trout in the river. He was the owner of the land for many miles round,
numerous farms, which had been in the same families for ages, and the
famous downs of Haverton, where so many good horses had been trained.
These downs were magnificent galloping grounds, and there was a clear
stretch of three miles straight--small wonder that Brant Blackett
turned out some good stayers.
Picton gloried in a good gallop on the downs, where the wind whistled
in freedom, and where there was no occasion to ease a horse until he
had done a four- or five-mile burst.
He was happy at Haverton--at least he always appeared to be--but there
was one thing cast a gloom over the place at all times: that was
the Admiral's death, and the cause of it--Hector's sentence to penal
servitude, after his reprieve. This was why Picton did not care to be
alone in the great house, why he always wished Captain Ben to be with
him. He had many friends who came to see him, but his best friend next
to Ben was Dick Langford, and he was far away in Devonshire. Sarah
Yeoman, at the end of a week, took it upon herself to speak to Picton.
"You're lonely, sir; you're brooding. It's not good for young folks
to brood. Wait till you're my age; then you can start if you are so
minded. The Captain ought to come, sir. He's been gallivanting on
the _Sea-mew_ long enough; I hope there's not a lady in the case, Mr.
Picton," she said.
Mrs. Yeoman was privileged; she had been at Haverton since she came
as a girl over thirty years ago and by sheer worth had risen to the
position of housekeeper, and ruler, at Haverton. Her husband had been
a groom there. Sarah Yeoman practically ruled everybody and everything
at Haverton; even Robert Rose, the butler, Amos Kidd, the head
gardener, and all the rest of the male and female kind bowed down to
her will. They bowed but did not worship; some of the maids--there
were four--would have liked to pull her back hair at times and scratch
her, but Sarah, although aware some feeling of this sort existed, went
on her way serene and calm, knowing she was doing her duty. There was
one thing about her: she was just, she held an even balance when there
was a dispute; and Fanny, the head housemaid, who at times almost
hated her, said she'd trust Sarah Yeoman under any circumstances to
arrive at a right decision. She was slow to anger but when roused "all
hands" fled from her wrath. With all her faults, there could have been
no better woman chosen to take the helm at Haverton. She was loyal
to the backbone; she considered the Woodridges the best family in
Yorkshire, or any other shire. She felt the blow when Hector was
condemned, and had not forgotten it, never would forget. She loved
both boys in her motherly way, and, although Picton was her favorite,
she held Hector in high esteem. She was surprised at Hector's falling
a victim to a woman, she would not have been surprised had Picton done
so.
"No, I don't think there's a lady in the case," replied Picton,
smiling. "At least I am not aware of it."
"Sailors are sly," she said.
"I thought Captain Ben was a favorite of yours," he said.
"So he is, but sailors are sailors all the same, and there's no
telling what he's up to on board the _Sea-mew_," she said.
Picton thought she would be astonished if she knew what Captain Ben
was up to.
"I think I'll go to Bridlington to-morrow and see him," he said.
"If you do, bring him back with you."
"I will if possible."
"Why should it not be possible? What's to hinder him from coming?" she
asked.
They would need her help later on, when Hector came to Haverton; he
might as well tell her now: she was thoroughly trustworthy.
"A strange thing happened when we were at Torquay," said Picton.
She waited for him to go on.
"Late one night, just before we sailed, an old boatman rowed across
the bay to the _Sea-mew_ bringing a man with him."
"Well?" she said anxiously.
"Captain Ben was on deck, the boatman hailed him and said the man
had come to see me. Ben asked his name, it was not given, but the
boatman--Brack we call him--implored him to permit the man to go on
board. So earnestly did he plead that Ben opened the gangway and let
down the steps. The man no sooner set foot on them than Brack cleared
away as fast as he could. The man came on deck, he seemed dazed,
behaved like a madman. He flung himself on Ben, who easily held him
back, the poor fellow was terribly weak and starved. Ben looked into
his face, the man looked back; they recognized each other. That man
is on the _Sea-mew_ now. Captain Ben is watching over him, nursing
him back to life and sanity. A great and grave task lies before us.
We have to shield this man, hide him, until such time as he can come
ashore without danger of being recognized. There was an escape from
Dartmoor when we were at Torquay, Sarah."
She gasped; she felt faint; she pulled herself together.
"An escape from Dartmoor--not----"
"Hector. He is on the _Sea-mew_. That is why Captain Ben is not here,"
said Picton.