Chapter Sixteen.Told in the Dusk.Of broken hearts, Minnie, though the doctor’s certificates told another tale. But then doctors deal with the body, and I am speaking of the mind. ’Tis twenty years since; and, as you saw this evening, there were the little grey and golden patches of lichen spreading over the grave-stone, while their story is about forgotten.Twenty years since poor brother Fred was the second clerk in Ranee Brothers’ counting-house, and I a boy of fifteen just promoted to a desk in the same office. And how proud I was of my brother, and how worthy I thought him of cousin Annie’s love, even though after my boyish fashion I loved her myself, and, when Fred took me with him to my aunt’s, I used to sit and gaze upon her sweet, grave countenance till I felt to hate myself for being such a boy, and turned quite miserable and despairing. But directly after I would think of how she watched for every glance of his bright grey eye, and how dependent and trusting she seemed, and then a blush came for my unbrotherly feelings.All went on as might have been expected: the day was fixed; the cottage taken—a pretty little place just outside the town, with a garden teeming with roses; furniture was bought, and the time slipped imperceptibly away until the wedding morning, when we assembled at my aunt’s house before proceeding to church.Frank stood well with our employers; andyouknow something of their generosity. And not only had they made him a handsome present towards housekeeping, but Mr Ranee, senior, came to give Annie away, taking for the time the place of her dead father. Mr French was there, too, the head clerk, a tall, handsome man, but one whom I always instinctively disliked, and spent the sixpences he gave me grudgingly and with a certain want of enjoyment in the proceeds—but I used to spend them.Well, the wedding went off as most weddings do: the school-children scattered field-flowers in the path of the teacher who had won their hearts on the quiet Sabbath afternoons; and then we returned to my aunt’s and partook of the wedding breakfast. Everything was conducted in the orthodox manner, and Messrs Ranee and French made speeches, to which Fred responded. Then dresses were changed, the fly came to the door; and, after a few adieus in the passage, the happy couple—than whom a handsomer or more loving the sun never shone on—drove off to the station on their way to the Lakes.I shut the fly-door myself, and then stood alone, not knowing whether to be happy or sorry; but I was soon aroused by the parting of our visitors; and then, entering the house with my aunt and my tiny bridesmaid cousin, I caught the infection from them, and, forgetting my fifteen years’ old manliness, sat down and had a hearty cry.Time slipped by. The trip was over, and the couple returned; the cottage occupied, and things shaken down into the regular country-town routine. After the first Sunday or two no one turned to gaze at Fred and Annie—much to my annoyance—and the young couple ceased to form the theme of conversation.I was very proud of my post in the office, having just been emancipated from school, and always felt very manly and important whenever I could feel that Mr French had not his eye upon me—the effect of that eye being to make me turn to a boy in an instant. Fred and he were very intimate, and French often went up to the cottage to have a cigar and game of chess; and, somehow, I always used to feel jealous of his smooth, oily civilities, and could see that they were anything but agreeable to Annie. On more than one occasion I found him lolling upon the sofa when I went in, at times when I had left Fred busy over correspondence which French had asked him to finish for that night’s post. At such times I always found Annie sitting close to the window, and apparently much relieved by my entrance; while French greeted me with a mocking, strained civility, which almost drove me away. But the knowledge that he wanted to be rid of me always determined me to stay, for I felt that I was acting as a protector to my brother’s wife.After a while Fred would stroll in, and French and he take to the chess-board; Annie to her work; while I in a corner with a book would alternately read and watch the stealthy glances French kept casting towards his friend’s wife.At the end of six months an unspoken feud had sprung up between French and myself. I could see that Annie was pained at the fellow’s presence, but she evidently forbore to speak to Fred, who held him in high estimation; and in the nobleness of his heart was beyond suspicion. But one autumn evening, when the winter seemed to be sending monitory warnings of his coming in the wailing winds and cutting blasts which began to strip the trees, I saw a figure pass the office window that I made sure was French. It was about six o’clock, and we had been detained later than usual, while even then Fred had several more letters to write. French had left the office about a quarter of an hour before, telling Fred he should look him up in the evening; to which a cheery “all right” was returned.Upon seeing him hurry past the window, I rose to go; but Fred kept me fully another quarter of an hour; and then, telling me to call on my way to my lodging and tell Annie he would be home in a quarter of an hour, he settled down again quietly to his writing.An unpleasant feeling that all was not right made me quicken my steps; and, going round by the back, I entered the cottage, and had reached the parlour door when the sound of a voice somewhat raised in pitch arrested me. Then followed the low muttering of a deep masculine voice saying something with great earnestness; and, thinking nothing of honour or being unmanly, I quietly turned the handle of the back parlour door, and entered. A pair of folding doors separated it from the front room; and, as I had hoped, they were ajar, so that, unobserved, I could see and hear all that passed.French had his back to me, and was standing with Annie in the centre of the room; he holding her hand with both his, and she gazing with a scared, half-angry, half-frightened look in his face.As I stood trembling there, he drew her towards him, and tried to pass one of his arms round her waist, but with a sharp cry, with eyes sparkling, and rage in every feature, she struck him sharply across the cheek with her disengaged hand, and I believe in his rage he would have returned the blow had I not sprung into the room and caught his arm.Not a word was spoken; but, shaking me off, he looked at Annie with a malevolent glance in his eye; and then, holding up his finger in a threatening way, which seemed to say, “Speak of it if you dare!” he strode out of the house as Annie sank sobbing and hysterical into a chair.I stayed until Fred came in, and then left them together, and I believe that my brother afterwards sought French at his lodgings, where he had a stormy interview; but I never knew for certain, as Fred silenced me the moment I entered upon the subject, and told me to forget it.French never entered the cottage again, while a marked coolness ever after existed between him and my brother—just sufficient passing between them for the transaction of business routine, and that was all. For my part, I was immensely pleased with the change, and cared but little for any display of rancour upon the part of French. However, instead of showing enmity he always after seemed disposed to be civil; but I always avoided him as much as possible.Fred had been married ten months, and appeared to idolise his wife. Poor fellow! his few months of wedded life seemed to pass away like a dream: he lived his day unsuspectingly, seeing not the canker that was slowly eating its way and so soon to blight his existence.One morning, upon going down to the office, I found that something unusual had taken place. French was there in close conversation with our employers, and a policeman was in waiting in the outer office. In reply to a query, I said that my brother would be there in a few minutes—in fact, before the words were well spoken Fred walked in.Mr Ranee, senior, motioned to him to walk into the private office; and, seeing that something was wrong, and oppressed by an undefined dread, I followed him, for no attempt was made to exclude me.“Mr Gordon,” said our employer, “I wish to be frank and straightforward with you, and if in any way I hurt your feelings this morning, prove your innocence, and I will ask your forgiveness. We find that two hundred and fifty pounds are missing from the safe, all in notes.”I started, and looked at Fred, who seemed confounded; for, like myself, he was aware of there being a heavy sum deposited in the safe ready for banking that morning, the greater part having been received on the previous evening after banking hours.“I know nothing of it, Mr Ranee,” said Fred, recovering himself, and speaking in a haughty tone.“You see, Mr Gordon,” said our employer, “my brother and I are compelled to make diligent search for the culprit, whoever he may be, and I sincerely trust that it may not be one who has enjoyed our confidence.”“I trust not, sir,” said Fred, shortly, and in the glance which he directed at French I saw he suspected that a trap had been laid for him; but the senior clerk would not meet his gaze, for he kept his eyes fixed upon Mr Ranee.“Did you exchange a five-pound note last night?” said Mr Ranee.“I did,” said Fred, “in a payment I made to Mr Wilson.”“Ask Mr Wilson to step in,” said our employer.It was evident that the matter had been gone into before; for Mr Wilson, a draper in the town, was in the partners’ room, and made his appearance directly.“You received a five-pound note of Mr Frederick Gordon last night?” said Mr Ranee.Mr Wilson nodded acquiescence, and then stood wiping his hands upon his pocket-handkerchief.“Certain?—are you certain? and have you the note, Mr Wilson?”That gentleman nodded again, and tapped his breast pocket, as much as to say, “here it is.”“Pray where did you obtain that note, Mr Gordon?” said our employer.“It was a part of my salary paid to me a fortnight since.”Mr Ranee turned and asked the draper to produce the note.“Is that the note, Mr Gordon?”“Yes, that’s it,” said Fred, “there’s my name upon the back.”Mr Ranee then fetched his private cash-book, and showed him that it was one of the notes received the day before; for there was the number, in company with that of all the other notes, duly entered.Fred immediately pulled out his pocket-book from the breast of his coat, which he had not yet had time to change, though his custom was to wear an old coat in the office, and leave the other hanging upon a peg against the wall.“I have here another of the notes you paid me, sir,” he said, passing it over to his employer, who took it, examined it, and then compared the number with one of those in his book. He then shook his head ominously.“This is not one of the notes that I paid you, Mr Gordon; this is one of those missing from the safe. I am grieved, deeply grieved, Mr French, to find that your suspicions are so far verified; and therefore a search must be made.”“Search! what? where?” exclaimed Fred, turning pale. “Not my home—my place—think, Mr Ranee—my wife—the shock—”Fred stopped short, for just then he caught the eye of French, and, setting his teeth, he remained silent.I went up to him and took his hand, but he did not speak, for I could see that he was trying to concentrate his thoughts upon the matter, and endeavouring to solve the mystery. We both felt that we knew the hand that was dealing the blow, but the question was how to parry the assault.Just then French and the policeman left the office together, and Fred would have followed, but was told that he must not leave the house.“But you will at least follow and see that the feelings of my wife are not outraged, Mr Ranee,” cried Fred.Mr Ranee made a sign to his brother, who followed the policeman and French, and then we sat together in silence for quite two hours, listening to the ticking of the great office clock.But the party returned at length with the policeman, carrying Annie’s rosewood desk beneath his arm; while close behind came Annie herself, looking dreadfully agitated; and Mr Ranee, junior, with a pitying expression of countenance, supported her upon his arm.Fred started as he saw the desk, which was a present he had made to Annie before their marriage. It was placed upon the table amidst an ominous silence, and then the policeman turned the key, the lock flying open with a sharp, loud snap, which made all present start; and then with his clumsy fingers the man opened one compartment, fumbled at a spring for a while, but could make nothing of it till French leaned over and pressed it with his hand, when one of those so-called concealed drawers flew out, and there lay a bundle of clean, white-looking bank notes, which, upon being compared with the numbers in the ledger, proved to be those stolen, minus the two already produced.For a few moments there was silence, for Fred sat perfectly astounded; but he was recalled to himself by the nod Mr Ranee gave to the constable, who motioned to my brother to follow him.Fred turned towards French, and in that one brief glance there was combined such contempt, scorn, and penetration of the device, that the senior clerk’s look of gratified malice sank before it, and he turned pale.But I had no time to observe more; for, stretching out her hands towards her husband, Annie uttered a wild cry of despair, and would have fallen if I had not caught her in my arms.As poor Annie tottered towards her husband, French darted forward to catch her; but all the calm disdain seemed to leave my brother in an instant, as with one bound he leaped across the office, and had his enemy by the throat, and before the constable or the astonished partners could interpose, French was lying stunned and bleeding upon the floor, with a gash upon his forehead caused by its striking against the heavy iron fender.“Take her home, Harry,” Fred whispered to me in a hoarse voice. “I’d have his life sooner than he should lay a finger upon her.” Then giving one fond look at the inanimate form I held, he walked to the office door, and accompanied the constable to the station.While efforts were being made to revive French, I obtained the assistance of one of the porters, who fetched a fly, and I soon had the poor distracted girl at home, and then darted off to the station, where, after conferring with my poor brother, I made arrangements with a couple of relatives to be bail for him. This done, I found that one of the magistrates was coming down to hear the case and remand it till the petty sessions on the following Wednesday; but upon fully understanding the magnitude of the charge, he declined to accept bail upon his own responsibility, and poor Fred had to remain in one of the station cells.“Cheer up, Harry,” he cried, on parting from me; “be a man. The truth will out, my boy. Don’t let my poor girl despair.”Poor Annie! It was a sad shock for her; and in spite of my determination to support her in her trouble, I felt helpless as a child. The platitudes I whispered fell upon heedless ears, and for hours she would lie with her head upon my aunt’s shoulder, often sobbing hysterically, while her work lay neglected upon the table, and I, with boyish curiosity, gazed upon the preparations she had been making.But it was a time for action with me, and my brain felt almost in a whirl of excitement. Fred now took me fully into his confidence, and kind as he had always been, yet now he treated me as though I were a man and his peer; and in spite of the trouble we were in, there was a certain charm in all this, and I could not but feel pleased with the importance that now attached to me. First there was conferring with our friends, then visiting poor Annie, then taking notes or messages from Fred to his solicitor; so that for me—and I fear for me only—the time passed rapidly.Early on the following morning I received a note from the office, requesting that I would abstain from attending during the examinations then in progress,—acongéI was only too glad to receive, for the time, though I felt convinced that before long we should both return in triumph.Upon comparing notes with my brother, I found that we were both of the same way of thinking, that it was a plot hatched by French; but the difficulty was to prove this to our employers, who knew nothing of the coldness previously existing between their clerks.At last the petty sessions were held. The evidence given was of a most conclusive character, and in spite of his previous life, and the enmity proved to have existed between French and my brother, he was committed for trial—heavy bail being taken.I walked home with Fred that afternoon, but soon left him, for Annie was in sore need of consolation. She blamed herself as the sole cause of all the trouble, through perhaps inadvertently giving some pretext for the advances of French. But, poor girl! she was as pure in thought as her blest spirit; and yet she could not be made to think herself blameless. I can almost see her now, pale, weeping, and anxious, with every nerve unstrung; and it was only by a great effort of mind that Fred was able at such a time to speak cheeringly.The interval between the day of committal and the assize was but short, and I could see how anxiously Fred looked forward to a termination of the suspense. I could not get him to look upon the bright side of the question, but he talked long and earnestly as to my duties and prospects if he should be found guilty—telling me that he left to me the sacred charge of caring for his wife.“And, Harry,” he whispered, “beware of that villain.”We talked over again and again the circumstances of the case; the notes in his pocket could easily have been changed; but we could detect no means by which access had been obtained to the desk, which always stood locked, upon the drawers in their bedroom. Once only a shade seemed to cross Fred’s mind—a horrible suspicion—but a glance at his wife dispelled it, and I left him directly after kneeling at her feet.He told me of it the next day that for a moment he had suspected Annie, “But it must have been a demon that prompted the thought, Harry, for she is as pure as the angels in heaven. It is a base plot—a diabolical plot—to ruin me and my happiness at the same time; to send me to the hulks with a vile jealousy gnawing at my heart, or he would never have chosen her desk to hide them there.”Wearied out with conjecturing, we always arrived at the same conclusion—that it was a mystery; and one that time alone would reveal. Every preparation was made for the defence, and a barrister, well-known for his ability, was retained.But it was all in vain. The trial came on with many others—sheep-stealing, poaching, assaults, and petty thefts; and at last, in spite of a most able defence by our counsel, the jury almost immediately returned a verdict of guilty. Then came a long homily from the judge respecting breach of confidence, advantages of education, ingratitude to indulgent masters, concluding with the sentence to fourteen years transportation.Fred did not move a muscle, but stood as he had stood throughout the trial, erect, and with the proud consciousness of innocence written upon his brow. He beckoned to his solicitor, and begged of him to thank the barrister for his able defence; and then turned to leave the dock, returning the malicious look of French with one of calm scorn.Just then I saw a piece of paper handed to Fred, who read it, smiled contemptuously, and crushed it in his hand; but directly after he smoothed it out, and it was passed to me.The words upon the paper were in a disguised hand—“Perhaps Annie will be kinder now.”I read it by the fast fading light, and knew well enough whose hand had dealt the dastardly stab; but when I looked up, both Fred and French were gone.Mine was to be a bitter task that night, and I stayed for quite an hour before I could summon resolution for my journey home. I had some miles to go, for our place lay at a distance from the county town; and I started at length, having quite given up the idea of breaking the news to Annie. I felt that I dared not; and on reaching my lodgings I sent a note; but a message came back that I must go on directly.I went on to the cottage, and then found that the news had been less tardy than myself, for the servant girl had heard it in the town an hour before, and told them upon her return.Upon hearing the fatal tidings poor Annie had gently slipped from her chair, and remained insensible for some time, but the doctor was then with her.One, two, three sad days passed, and on the fourth I stood on one side of her bed with my knees trembling beneath me; for young and inexperienced as I then was, I knew that an awful change was taking place. It was evening, and the setting sun sent a glow of unearthly brightness to her sweet calm face as I stood there half blind with tears, while my poor aunt sobbed audibly.But why prolong the sad tale? Once the dying girl opened her eyes and smiled upon her mother, and then turned them towards me, when her pale lips formed themselves to kiss me, even as would those of a child. I leant over her, and pressed my lips to hers, and as I did so, there was a faint sigh, and I felt myself drawn away.Five days after I again stood to take a farewell look of poor Annie as she lay in the dim shadowy room in her narrow coffin, with her crossed arms folding a tiny form to her breast. Cold—cold—cold! Mother and child. The breast that should have warmed the little bud, icy—pulseless; and as I stood there with a strange awe upon me, I could but whisper, for they seemed to sleep.We laid them where you stood to-night, love; and on returning, sad and broken-hearted, to the little parlour—now so lonely and deserted, we found that Ellen the servant had suddenly left; and that, too, without assigning any reason. But we had too much to think of then to pay attention to a domestic inconvenience, though often afterwards it was recalled.I dared not trust myself to convey the sad news to my brother, for as yet he was in ignorance of poor Annie’s death. We had kept it back, hesitating whether to tell him at all at such a time, when sorrow had bowed him down; but at length I wrote to him, and with a letter from my aunt, inclosed it to the chaplain of the county gaol, begging of him to try and prepare my poor brother for the dreadful shock.I felt now that we had all drained the cup of bitterness; and in the incidents of the past month, years upon years seemed to have been added to my life. But the dregs of the cup had yet to be partaken of; for on the second day after sending my letter, I was summoned to see my brother, and I went with foreboding at my heart, and a voice seeming to whisper to me—“Thank God that you are orphans!”Upon reaching the prison I was shown into the chaplain’s private room, and his looks told me what his first words confirmed. He spoke long and earnestly, and with a tender sympathy I could not have expected. But at last I begged that I might see my poor brother, and he led me to his cell.Coming from the bright glare of a sunlit room, it was some time before my eyes became accustomed to the half twilight of the bar-windowed cell; and then, half blind with tears, but with my eyes hot and burning, I looked upon the pallid bloodless form of poor Fred, for he was found on the previous night just as he breathed his last sigh in the words, “Annie—pardon!”—having forestalled the will of God by his own hand.The grass had not had time to send forth its first shoot upon Annie’s grave ere it was disturbed, and again I stood by the sad opening, heard that hollow rattle of the earth, and then, as chief mourner, walked sadly away wondering what new calamity could fall upon me.I entered the cottage once more, and was not surprised to hear wild and bitter sobs in the little parlour, and for a while I forbore to enter; but a wild cry, almost a shriek of woe, startled me, and I went in.There at my aunt’s feet—crushed and hopeless—lay a figure, tearing her dishevelled hair, weeping, moaning, and praying for forgiveness; asking whether it were possible that such a wretch could ever obtain pardon.At first I hardly recognised the wild, bloodshot-eyed face that appealed now to me, now to my aunt, and then called wildly upon the dead to forgive her; and then I saw it was my brother’s servant.By degrees I learned that the poor wretch had yielded to the persuasions, and bribes, and cajolery of French; and then from the power he had over her, she had obtained for him that fatal desk, and then at his command replaced it. He had made her swear by the most fearful oaths not to betray the secret, and then the poor wretch had been compelled to watch step by step the dreadful progress of the tragedy, till at last half crazed with terror at the misery she had by her weakness caused, she fled from the house. Then came the news of my brother’s death, when she could bear no more, and after once again seeing French and telling him her intention, she had thrown herself at my aunt’s feet and confessed all.Too late—too late—to bring back life and happiness; but not too late to thrust dishonour from my brother’s grave. I rushed frantically to the office to denounce French; and, boy as I was, I should have taken him by the throat, but he was not there. Breathlessly I told the brothers all; but, for awhile, the narrative seemed so extravagant, that they looked upon me as mad. But upon knowing the truth of my statement, they were prompt in their endeavours to obtain justice upon the base villain who had brought those young hearts to a premature grave.Too late—too late. French had fled, whither no one knew; but if a man—if a human heart beat within his breast, he must have carried a fearful punishment with him.Twenty years since then I have served Ranee Brothers; and you can tell a little of the kindness and consideration they have always shown me; while I suppose I begin the new year as a member of the firm.And do you wonder now that I should have grown into a staid and quiet man—that people should call me reserved—and that grey hairs should already have appeared in my head?But what are these, Minnie? Tears, love? Come, light the candles; we must have no more tales told in the dusk.
Of broken hearts, Minnie, though the doctor’s certificates told another tale. But then doctors deal with the body, and I am speaking of the mind. ’Tis twenty years since; and, as you saw this evening, there were the little grey and golden patches of lichen spreading over the grave-stone, while their story is about forgotten.
Twenty years since poor brother Fred was the second clerk in Ranee Brothers’ counting-house, and I a boy of fifteen just promoted to a desk in the same office. And how proud I was of my brother, and how worthy I thought him of cousin Annie’s love, even though after my boyish fashion I loved her myself, and, when Fred took me with him to my aunt’s, I used to sit and gaze upon her sweet, grave countenance till I felt to hate myself for being such a boy, and turned quite miserable and despairing. But directly after I would think of how she watched for every glance of his bright grey eye, and how dependent and trusting she seemed, and then a blush came for my unbrotherly feelings.
All went on as might have been expected: the day was fixed; the cottage taken—a pretty little place just outside the town, with a garden teeming with roses; furniture was bought, and the time slipped imperceptibly away until the wedding morning, when we assembled at my aunt’s house before proceeding to church.
Frank stood well with our employers; andyouknow something of their generosity. And not only had they made him a handsome present towards housekeeping, but Mr Ranee, senior, came to give Annie away, taking for the time the place of her dead father. Mr French was there, too, the head clerk, a tall, handsome man, but one whom I always instinctively disliked, and spent the sixpences he gave me grudgingly and with a certain want of enjoyment in the proceeds—but I used to spend them.
Well, the wedding went off as most weddings do: the school-children scattered field-flowers in the path of the teacher who had won their hearts on the quiet Sabbath afternoons; and then we returned to my aunt’s and partook of the wedding breakfast. Everything was conducted in the orthodox manner, and Messrs Ranee and French made speeches, to which Fred responded. Then dresses were changed, the fly came to the door; and, after a few adieus in the passage, the happy couple—than whom a handsomer or more loving the sun never shone on—drove off to the station on their way to the Lakes.
I shut the fly-door myself, and then stood alone, not knowing whether to be happy or sorry; but I was soon aroused by the parting of our visitors; and then, entering the house with my aunt and my tiny bridesmaid cousin, I caught the infection from them, and, forgetting my fifteen years’ old manliness, sat down and had a hearty cry.
Time slipped by. The trip was over, and the couple returned; the cottage occupied, and things shaken down into the regular country-town routine. After the first Sunday or two no one turned to gaze at Fred and Annie—much to my annoyance—and the young couple ceased to form the theme of conversation.
I was very proud of my post in the office, having just been emancipated from school, and always felt very manly and important whenever I could feel that Mr French had not his eye upon me—the effect of that eye being to make me turn to a boy in an instant. Fred and he were very intimate, and French often went up to the cottage to have a cigar and game of chess; and, somehow, I always used to feel jealous of his smooth, oily civilities, and could see that they were anything but agreeable to Annie. On more than one occasion I found him lolling upon the sofa when I went in, at times when I had left Fred busy over correspondence which French had asked him to finish for that night’s post. At such times I always found Annie sitting close to the window, and apparently much relieved by my entrance; while French greeted me with a mocking, strained civility, which almost drove me away. But the knowledge that he wanted to be rid of me always determined me to stay, for I felt that I was acting as a protector to my brother’s wife.
After a while Fred would stroll in, and French and he take to the chess-board; Annie to her work; while I in a corner with a book would alternately read and watch the stealthy glances French kept casting towards his friend’s wife.
At the end of six months an unspoken feud had sprung up between French and myself. I could see that Annie was pained at the fellow’s presence, but she evidently forbore to speak to Fred, who held him in high estimation; and in the nobleness of his heart was beyond suspicion. But one autumn evening, when the winter seemed to be sending monitory warnings of his coming in the wailing winds and cutting blasts which began to strip the trees, I saw a figure pass the office window that I made sure was French. It was about six o’clock, and we had been detained later than usual, while even then Fred had several more letters to write. French had left the office about a quarter of an hour before, telling Fred he should look him up in the evening; to which a cheery “all right” was returned.
Upon seeing him hurry past the window, I rose to go; but Fred kept me fully another quarter of an hour; and then, telling me to call on my way to my lodging and tell Annie he would be home in a quarter of an hour, he settled down again quietly to his writing.
An unpleasant feeling that all was not right made me quicken my steps; and, going round by the back, I entered the cottage, and had reached the parlour door when the sound of a voice somewhat raised in pitch arrested me. Then followed the low muttering of a deep masculine voice saying something with great earnestness; and, thinking nothing of honour or being unmanly, I quietly turned the handle of the back parlour door, and entered. A pair of folding doors separated it from the front room; and, as I had hoped, they were ajar, so that, unobserved, I could see and hear all that passed.
French had his back to me, and was standing with Annie in the centre of the room; he holding her hand with both his, and she gazing with a scared, half-angry, half-frightened look in his face.
As I stood trembling there, he drew her towards him, and tried to pass one of his arms round her waist, but with a sharp cry, with eyes sparkling, and rage in every feature, she struck him sharply across the cheek with her disengaged hand, and I believe in his rage he would have returned the blow had I not sprung into the room and caught his arm.
Not a word was spoken; but, shaking me off, he looked at Annie with a malevolent glance in his eye; and then, holding up his finger in a threatening way, which seemed to say, “Speak of it if you dare!” he strode out of the house as Annie sank sobbing and hysterical into a chair.
I stayed until Fred came in, and then left them together, and I believe that my brother afterwards sought French at his lodgings, where he had a stormy interview; but I never knew for certain, as Fred silenced me the moment I entered upon the subject, and told me to forget it.
French never entered the cottage again, while a marked coolness ever after existed between him and my brother—just sufficient passing between them for the transaction of business routine, and that was all. For my part, I was immensely pleased with the change, and cared but little for any display of rancour upon the part of French. However, instead of showing enmity he always after seemed disposed to be civil; but I always avoided him as much as possible.
Fred had been married ten months, and appeared to idolise his wife. Poor fellow! his few months of wedded life seemed to pass away like a dream: he lived his day unsuspectingly, seeing not the canker that was slowly eating its way and so soon to blight his existence.
One morning, upon going down to the office, I found that something unusual had taken place. French was there in close conversation with our employers, and a policeman was in waiting in the outer office. In reply to a query, I said that my brother would be there in a few minutes—in fact, before the words were well spoken Fred walked in.
Mr Ranee, senior, motioned to him to walk into the private office; and, seeing that something was wrong, and oppressed by an undefined dread, I followed him, for no attempt was made to exclude me.
“Mr Gordon,” said our employer, “I wish to be frank and straightforward with you, and if in any way I hurt your feelings this morning, prove your innocence, and I will ask your forgiveness. We find that two hundred and fifty pounds are missing from the safe, all in notes.”
I started, and looked at Fred, who seemed confounded; for, like myself, he was aware of there being a heavy sum deposited in the safe ready for banking that morning, the greater part having been received on the previous evening after banking hours.
“I know nothing of it, Mr Ranee,” said Fred, recovering himself, and speaking in a haughty tone.
“You see, Mr Gordon,” said our employer, “my brother and I are compelled to make diligent search for the culprit, whoever he may be, and I sincerely trust that it may not be one who has enjoyed our confidence.”
“I trust not, sir,” said Fred, shortly, and in the glance which he directed at French I saw he suspected that a trap had been laid for him; but the senior clerk would not meet his gaze, for he kept his eyes fixed upon Mr Ranee.
“Did you exchange a five-pound note last night?” said Mr Ranee.
“I did,” said Fred, “in a payment I made to Mr Wilson.”
“Ask Mr Wilson to step in,” said our employer.
It was evident that the matter had been gone into before; for Mr Wilson, a draper in the town, was in the partners’ room, and made his appearance directly.
“You received a five-pound note of Mr Frederick Gordon last night?” said Mr Ranee.
Mr Wilson nodded acquiescence, and then stood wiping his hands upon his pocket-handkerchief.
“Certain?—are you certain? and have you the note, Mr Wilson?”
That gentleman nodded again, and tapped his breast pocket, as much as to say, “here it is.”
“Pray where did you obtain that note, Mr Gordon?” said our employer.
“It was a part of my salary paid to me a fortnight since.”
Mr Ranee turned and asked the draper to produce the note.
“Is that the note, Mr Gordon?”
“Yes, that’s it,” said Fred, “there’s my name upon the back.”
Mr Ranee then fetched his private cash-book, and showed him that it was one of the notes received the day before; for there was the number, in company with that of all the other notes, duly entered.
Fred immediately pulled out his pocket-book from the breast of his coat, which he had not yet had time to change, though his custom was to wear an old coat in the office, and leave the other hanging upon a peg against the wall.
“I have here another of the notes you paid me, sir,” he said, passing it over to his employer, who took it, examined it, and then compared the number with one of those in his book. He then shook his head ominously.
“This is not one of the notes that I paid you, Mr Gordon; this is one of those missing from the safe. I am grieved, deeply grieved, Mr French, to find that your suspicions are so far verified; and therefore a search must be made.”
“Search! what? where?” exclaimed Fred, turning pale. “Not my home—my place—think, Mr Ranee—my wife—the shock—”
Fred stopped short, for just then he caught the eye of French, and, setting his teeth, he remained silent.
I went up to him and took his hand, but he did not speak, for I could see that he was trying to concentrate his thoughts upon the matter, and endeavouring to solve the mystery. We both felt that we knew the hand that was dealing the blow, but the question was how to parry the assault.
Just then French and the policeman left the office together, and Fred would have followed, but was told that he must not leave the house.
“But you will at least follow and see that the feelings of my wife are not outraged, Mr Ranee,” cried Fred.
Mr Ranee made a sign to his brother, who followed the policeman and French, and then we sat together in silence for quite two hours, listening to the ticking of the great office clock.
But the party returned at length with the policeman, carrying Annie’s rosewood desk beneath his arm; while close behind came Annie herself, looking dreadfully agitated; and Mr Ranee, junior, with a pitying expression of countenance, supported her upon his arm.
Fred started as he saw the desk, which was a present he had made to Annie before their marriage. It was placed upon the table amidst an ominous silence, and then the policeman turned the key, the lock flying open with a sharp, loud snap, which made all present start; and then with his clumsy fingers the man opened one compartment, fumbled at a spring for a while, but could make nothing of it till French leaned over and pressed it with his hand, when one of those so-called concealed drawers flew out, and there lay a bundle of clean, white-looking bank notes, which, upon being compared with the numbers in the ledger, proved to be those stolen, minus the two already produced.
For a few moments there was silence, for Fred sat perfectly astounded; but he was recalled to himself by the nod Mr Ranee gave to the constable, who motioned to my brother to follow him.
Fred turned towards French, and in that one brief glance there was combined such contempt, scorn, and penetration of the device, that the senior clerk’s look of gratified malice sank before it, and he turned pale.
But I had no time to observe more; for, stretching out her hands towards her husband, Annie uttered a wild cry of despair, and would have fallen if I had not caught her in my arms.
As poor Annie tottered towards her husband, French darted forward to catch her; but all the calm disdain seemed to leave my brother in an instant, as with one bound he leaped across the office, and had his enemy by the throat, and before the constable or the astonished partners could interpose, French was lying stunned and bleeding upon the floor, with a gash upon his forehead caused by its striking against the heavy iron fender.
“Take her home, Harry,” Fred whispered to me in a hoarse voice. “I’d have his life sooner than he should lay a finger upon her.” Then giving one fond look at the inanimate form I held, he walked to the office door, and accompanied the constable to the station.
While efforts were being made to revive French, I obtained the assistance of one of the porters, who fetched a fly, and I soon had the poor distracted girl at home, and then darted off to the station, where, after conferring with my poor brother, I made arrangements with a couple of relatives to be bail for him. This done, I found that one of the magistrates was coming down to hear the case and remand it till the petty sessions on the following Wednesday; but upon fully understanding the magnitude of the charge, he declined to accept bail upon his own responsibility, and poor Fred had to remain in one of the station cells.
“Cheer up, Harry,” he cried, on parting from me; “be a man. The truth will out, my boy. Don’t let my poor girl despair.”
Poor Annie! It was a sad shock for her; and in spite of my determination to support her in her trouble, I felt helpless as a child. The platitudes I whispered fell upon heedless ears, and for hours she would lie with her head upon my aunt’s shoulder, often sobbing hysterically, while her work lay neglected upon the table, and I, with boyish curiosity, gazed upon the preparations she had been making.
But it was a time for action with me, and my brain felt almost in a whirl of excitement. Fred now took me fully into his confidence, and kind as he had always been, yet now he treated me as though I were a man and his peer; and in spite of the trouble we were in, there was a certain charm in all this, and I could not but feel pleased with the importance that now attached to me. First there was conferring with our friends, then visiting poor Annie, then taking notes or messages from Fred to his solicitor; so that for me—and I fear for me only—the time passed rapidly.
Early on the following morning I received a note from the office, requesting that I would abstain from attending during the examinations then in progress,—acongéI was only too glad to receive, for the time, though I felt convinced that before long we should both return in triumph.
Upon comparing notes with my brother, I found that we were both of the same way of thinking, that it was a plot hatched by French; but the difficulty was to prove this to our employers, who knew nothing of the coldness previously existing between their clerks.
At last the petty sessions were held. The evidence given was of a most conclusive character, and in spite of his previous life, and the enmity proved to have existed between French and my brother, he was committed for trial—heavy bail being taken.
I walked home with Fred that afternoon, but soon left him, for Annie was in sore need of consolation. She blamed herself as the sole cause of all the trouble, through perhaps inadvertently giving some pretext for the advances of French. But, poor girl! she was as pure in thought as her blest spirit; and yet she could not be made to think herself blameless. I can almost see her now, pale, weeping, and anxious, with every nerve unstrung; and it was only by a great effort of mind that Fred was able at such a time to speak cheeringly.
The interval between the day of committal and the assize was but short, and I could see how anxiously Fred looked forward to a termination of the suspense. I could not get him to look upon the bright side of the question, but he talked long and earnestly as to my duties and prospects if he should be found guilty—telling me that he left to me the sacred charge of caring for his wife.
“And, Harry,” he whispered, “beware of that villain.”
We talked over again and again the circumstances of the case; the notes in his pocket could easily have been changed; but we could detect no means by which access had been obtained to the desk, which always stood locked, upon the drawers in their bedroom. Once only a shade seemed to cross Fred’s mind—a horrible suspicion—but a glance at his wife dispelled it, and I left him directly after kneeling at her feet.
He told me of it the next day that for a moment he had suspected Annie, “But it must have been a demon that prompted the thought, Harry, for she is as pure as the angels in heaven. It is a base plot—a diabolical plot—to ruin me and my happiness at the same time; to send me to the hulks with a vile jealousy gnawing at my heart, or he would never have chosen her desk to hide them there.”
Wearied out with conjecturing, we always arrived at the same conclusion—that it was a mystery; and one that time alone would reveal. Every preparation was made for the defence, and a barrister, well-known for his ability, was retained.
But it was all in vain. The trial came on with many others—sheep-stealing, poaching, assaults, and petty thefts; and at last, in spite of a most able defence by our counsel, the jury almost immediately returned a verdict of guilty. Then came a long homily from the judge respecting breach of confidence, advantages of education, ingratitude to indulgent masters, concluding with the sentence to fourteen years transportation.
Fred did not move a muscle, but stood as he had stood throughout the trial, erect, and with the proud consciousness of innocence written upon his brow. He beckoned to his solicitor, and begged of him to thank the barrister for his able defence; and then turned to leave the dock, returning the malicious look of French with one of calm scorn.
Just then I saw a piece of paper handed to Fred, who read it, smiled contemptuously, and crushed it in his hand; but directly after he smoothed it out, and it was passed to me.
The words upon the paper were in a disguised hand—
“Perhaps Annie will be kinder now.”
“Perhaps Annie will be kinder now.”
I read it by the fast fading light, and knew well enough whose hand had dealt the dastardly stab; but when I looked up, both Fred and French were gone.
Mine was to be a bitter task that night, and I stayed for quite an hour before I could summon resolution for my journey home. I had some miles to go, for our place lay at a distance from the county town; and I started at length, having quite given up the idea of breaking the news to Annie. I felt that I dared not; and on reaching my lodgings I sent a note; but a message came back that I must go on directly.
I went on to the cottage, and then found that the news had been less tardy than myself, for the servant girl had heard it in the town an hour before, and told them upon her return.
Upon hearing the fatal tidings poor Annie had gently slipped from her chair, and remained insensible for some time, but the doctor was then with her.
One, two, three sad days passed, and on the fourth I stood on one side of her bed with my knees trembling beneath me; for young and inexperienced as I then was, I knew that an awful change was taking place. It was evening, and the setting sun sent a glow of unearthly brightness to her sweet calm face as I stood there half blind with tears, while my poor aunt sobbed audibly.
But why prolong the sad tale? Once the dying girl opened her eyes and smiled upon her mother, and then turned them towards me, when her pale lips formed themselves to kiss me, even as would those of a child. I leant over her, and pressed my lips to hers, and as I did so, there was a faint sigh, and I felt myself drawn away.
Five days after I again stood to take a farewell look of poor Annie as she lay in the dim shadowy room in her narrow coffin, with her crossed arms folding a tiny form to her breast. Cold—cold—cold! Mother and child. The breast that should have warmed the little bud, icy—pulseless; and as I stood there with a strange awe upon me, I could but whisper, for they seemed to sleep.
We laid them where you stood to-night, love; and on returning, sad and broken-hearted, to the little parlour—now so lonely and deserted, we found that Ellen the servant had suddenly left; and that, too, without assigning any reason. But we had too much to think of then to pay attention to a domestic inconvenience, though often afterwards it was recalled.
I dared not trust myself to convey the sad news to my brother, for as yet he was in ignorance of poor Annie’s death. We had kept it back, hesitating whether to tell him at all at such a time, when sorrow had bowed him down; but at length I wrote to him, and with a letter from my aunt, inclosed it to the chaplain of the county gaol, begging of him to try and prepare my poor brother for the dreadful shock.
I felt now that we had all drained the cup of bitterness; and in the incidents of the past month, years upon years seemed to have been added to my life. But the dregs of the cup had yet to be partaken of; for on the second day after sending my letter, I was summoned to see my brother, and I went with foreboding at my heart, and a voice seeming to whisper to me—“Thank God that you are orphans!”
Upon reaching the prison I was shown into the chaplain’s private room, and his looks told me what his first words confirmed. He spoke long and earnestly, and with a tender sympathy I could not have expected. But at last I begged that I might see my poor brother, and he led me to his cell.
Coming from the bright glare of a sunlit room, it was some time before my eyes became accustomed to the half twilight of the bar-windowed cell; and then, half blind with tears, but with my eyes hot and burning, I looked upon the pallid bloodless form of poor Fred, for he was found on the previous night just as he breathed his last sigh in the words, “Annie—pardon!”—having forestalled the will of God by his own hand.
The grass had not had time to send forth its first shoot upon Annie’s grave ere it was disturbed, and again I stood by the sad opening, heard that hollow rattle of the earth, and then, as chief mourner, walked sadly away wondering what new calamity could fall upon me.
I entered the cottage once more, and was not surprised to hear wild and bitter sobs in the little parlour, and for a while I forbore to enter; but a wild cry, almost a shriek of woe, startled me, and I went in.
There at my aunt’s feet—crushed and hopeless—lay a figure, tearing her dishevelled hair, weeping, moaning, and praying for forgiveness; asking whether it were possible that such a wretch could ever obtain pardon.
At first I hardly recognised the wild, bloodshot-eyed face that appealed now to me, now to my aunt, and then called wildly upon the dead to forgive her; and then I saw it was my brother’s servant.
By degrees I learned that the poor wretch had yielded to the persuasions, and bribes, and cajolery of French; and then from the power he had over her, she had obtained for him that fatal desk, and then at his command replaced it. He had made her swear by the most fearful oaths not to betray the secret, and then the poor wretch had been compelled to watch step by step the dreadful progress of the tragedy, till at last half crazed with terror at the misery she had by her weakness caused, she fled from the house. Then came the news of my brother’s death, when she could bear no more, and after once again seeing French and telling him her intention, she had thrown herself at my aunt’s feet and confessed all.
Too late—too late—to bring back life and happiness; but not too late to thrust dishonour from my brother’s grave. I rushed frantically to the office to denounce French; and, boy as I was, I should have taken him by the throat, but he was not there. Breathlessly I told the brothers all; but, for awhile, the narrative seemed so extravagant, that they looked upon me as mad. But upon knowing the truth of my statement, they were prompt in their endeavours to obtain justice upon the base villain who had brought those young hearts to a premature grave.
Too late—too late. French had fled, whither no one knew; but if a man—if a human heart beat within his breast, he must have carried a fearful punishment with him.
Twenty years since then I have served Ranee Brothers; and you can tell a little of the kindness and consideration they have always shown me; while I suppose I begin the new year as a member of the firm.
And do you wonder now that I should have grown into a staid and quiet man—that people should call me reserved—and that grey hairs should already have appeared in my head?
But what are these, Minnie? Tears, love? Come, light the candles; we must have no more tales told in the dusk.
Chapter Seventeen.Mephitic Fumes.I don’t believe that old well of ours would ever have been cleaned out if it had not been for the magpie, which, by the way, in its tame state is most decidedly as ill-conditioned, dishonest a bird as was ever fledged. Now of course a magpie does not seem to have much to do with a well; but as great oaks grow from little acorns, so do large matters grow out of very small causes.Our magpie was kept under the impression that he would some day talk; but he never got any further than the monosyllable “Chark,” which with him meant as much as the Italian’s “Altro.” He could say the word plainly when he was six months old; and he could say no more when he was five years, and had achieved to a perpetual moult about the poll, which had the effect of making him look ten times more weird and artful than ever. He would say “chark” for everything, merely varying the key higher or lower according to the exigencies of the case. Goblin came into my possession in exchange for that piece of current money of the merchant called sixpence, which was given to a little, consequential, undersized, under-gardener at a neighbouring seat. This personage, who was known in the place as “my lord,” had early one morning scaled an elm-tree to take a magpie’s nest, but he was so unsuccessful as to secure only one bird—the Goblin in question.He was a beauty was Goblin; if I believed in the doctrine of metempsychosis, I should say that his little body had been the receptacle of the immortal part of Jack Sheppard—Harrison Ainsworth’s Jack Sheppard; for a more mischievous, thieving scamp never held head on one side, leaped out of reach, after any amount of threatening, stared at you with a keen black eye, and cried “chark.” He was a bird that was always in a state of voracity, or pretended to be so, and dearly loved to hide scraps of meat in all sorts of out-of-the-way places, where he would punch them in, and then forget them; although they smelt loud enough to cause no end of complaints. He was a cleanly bird, too, in his habits, and always took advantage of Newfoundland Nero’s trough being filled with clean water to have a wash, sully the fount, and then hop shivering off to dry the plumage which stuck down to his sides.So much for the magpie. The well was beneath the walnut-tree, and so close to it that from time to time large pieces of chalk had been pushed in by the roots that forced their way through the sides as if in search of moisture. It was an old, old well, sunk no one knew how many centuries before; but probably dug down out of the chalk, when the monks held the old priory which we tenanted in its modernised form. The old well was always an object of dread to me in childhood; and often have I stealthily crept up to the old green wood cover, dropped a pebble through the rope hole, and listened shudderingly to the hollow, echoing, vibrating sound that came quivering up after the plash. Even in maturer years the old well was one that would obtrude itself into dreams and offer suggestions of the horrors to be found within its depths, and the consequences of a fall to the bottom.We only used the water for the garden, and hard work it used to be to turn the moss-covered windlass, and drag up the heavy bucket at the end of a hundred feet of rope, when up it came full of greeny-looking water, with some times a frog for passenger. To look down and listen to the hollow drip of the water was enough to make any one shudder, so profound seemed the depth to where a ring of light could be seen, and in spite of its depth, carved as it was right out of the solid chalk, there was never more than some seven or eight feet of water at the bottom, and that none of the cleanest.Uncle Tom said it would be better filled up; a remark which found a most enthusiastic backer in the old gardener; but water even if green and discoloured was costly in those parts, and therefore the well was not filled up. While as to my uncle’s suggestion, to have it cleaned out, although most excellent, I was too deeply imbued with the Toryish ideas of letting things be as heretofore; and, therefore, the old gardener ground and ground at the old windlass, and the water still came up green; while, contrary to direct orders, the lid of the dangerous place was often left off.Now, as before said, I don’t believe that old well of ours would ever have been cleaned out if it had not been for the magpie.One day in summer I had been sitting dreamily trying to follow out some of the rather knotty thoughts in “Festus,” when on raising my eyes I caught sight of Goblin perched upon the little table in the bay window, and before I could move I had the pleasure of seeing him nimbly hook up my wife’s diminutive watch off the little stand, and then hop on to the window-sill, where I made a rush at him and nearly secured his spoil, for the thin chain caught in the Westeria twining round the window. In an instant, however, it had given way, and I had the satisfaction of seeing the little black and white miscreant alight on the gravel walk; and then after fixing the fragile timekeeper with his foot, begin to peck vigorously at the glass, which was shivered directly.I hurried downstairs, for the window was too high for a jump; and as soon as I rushed to the door, Goblin gave utterance to his one syllable address, seized the watch, and went hopping along the path till he reached the well, where he perched upon the open lid; and as I stopped, half paralysed, and stooped to pick up a stone, Goblin made me a bow, raised his tail with a flick, and then to my horror he left hold of the watch, and I just reached the well in time to hear it, not say “tick,” but “splash,” while the thief hopped into the walnut-tree overhead.This settled the matter; and two mornings after, a cart stopped at the gate, and Thomas Bore, well-sinker, arrived, accompanied by two labourers, for the purpose of nominally cleaning out the well, but really recovering the watch.“Now, yer see, sir,” said Thomas Bore, leaning on the windlass and spitting down the well, of course, from habit, “yer see, sir, when we’ve done, this here water ’ll be clear as crischial. But all this here wood-wuck’s old-fashioned. Now I could fit yer up a fust-rate, double action, wheel crank forcer, as ’ud send the water a-flying up like a steam-engine.”“Rather expensive,” I hinted.“Mere trifle, sir. Fifty pun, at the outside.”“Well, suppose we have the cleaning done first,” I said; and being rather timid over such matters, for fear of being persuaded, I turned upon my heel and fled to my breakfast.Being of a fidgetty turn of mind, and liking to have my money’s worth for my money, I kept an eye upon the proceedings beneath the walnut-tree; and I found that the first two hours were taken up with sitting down, Indian fashion, for a palaver or consultation, during which, in a way of speaking, the trio felt the patient’s pulse—Goblin fitting in the walnut-tree to see how matters progressed.The rest of the day was taken up with the removal of the old green windlass, and the fixing of one brought over for the purpose; and then two buckets having been flung, the windlass began to turn, and, very slowly, bucket after bucket of water was drawn up; and so eagerly did the men work, that at the end of three days the well was pronounced dry.Now I had been reckoning that a couple of days would have sufficed for the job; and, therefore, felt disposed to stare when, on going out upon the fourth morning, I found the men still groaning over the task, so as to get out the water that had come in during the night. By noon, however, this was accomplished; when there followed another consultation, the theme being that the well was not safe.I felt that I was in for it, and muttered to myself “Let well alone;” but it was too late now, so I grinned and bore my troubles—to wit, the very calm proceedings of the men whose united energies, tools, tackling, etc, were costing me at least a guinea per diem, while the well was as dirty as ever.At last a candle was lit and attached to a piece of wire, the wire to a string, and then it was lowered so fast that before it had attained to two-thirds of the depth it was out.“Ah,” said Mr Bore, wagging his head sagely; “werry foul indeed, sir; werry foul. We shall have to burn it out.”This, I found, was accomplished by throwing down a quantity of straw, which was afterwards ignited by sending after it shovelfuls of hot cinders from the kitchen fire, and so making a blaze and a great deal of smoke; while this day passed over and no further progress was made.The next morning I was out in good time, to the great disgust of Mr Bore, and by ten o’clock I had the satisfaction of seeing the water out once more.“I ’spose one o’ my men can get a candle in the kitchen, sir,” said Mr Bore.I signified assent, and then had the satisfaction of seeing the testing process gone through: the light going out before it reached the bottom, which I could not believe was from mephitic gas, though sworn to by Mr Bore, who proceeded to make another bonfire on the top of my wife’s watch, when I was called away, and did not go out again till half-past two, when I found that a man armed with a shovel had just stepped into one of the buckets, and the other man, who had a very red face, began, with the assistance of his master, to let him down.“Is it all right, Dick?” said Mr Bore, when the man was about half down.“Ah!” was the response, in a hollow voice; and then he was lowered, further and further, till he must have been near the bottom, when the rope shook; there was an evident loss of the load at the end; and I must confess to a shudder of horror going through me, as a dull, plashing thud came from the depths of the well.Bore looked at me, and I at him, for a few seconds in silence, when the other man spun round the now light windlass till the other bucket rose.“Here, lay hold o’ this here,” he cried to me; and from the readiness to obey felt by all in an emergency, I seized the windlass and assisted his master to let him down, as he thrust one leg through the pail-handle and was soon out of sight, for we lowered him down as fast as was possible.“I’m blowed if there won’t be a coroner’s inquess over this job,” panted Mr Bore, as he turned away at his handle; “I know’d it warn’t safe, only he would go.”“For goodness sake, turn quicker man,” I cried; and at last, after what seemed ten minutes at least, the empty bucket rose.“Now, then,” I shouted down the well, “tie the rope round him, quick, and then hang on.”No answer.“Do you hear there?” I cried again, with a horrid dread coming over me that the catastrophe was to be doubled; but at last a dull, “All right,” came echoing up.As for Bore, he sat there upon his handle looking the colour of dough. I saw at once there was no help to be expected from him, so I shouted to one of the maids, and in a few minutes my wife and half a dozen neighbours, male and female, were standing, pale and horror-stricken, around the well.In the mean time I had tried again and again to rouse the last man down, but could get nothing but a sort of half-stifled “All right;” while at last even that was not forthcoming, nothing but a hollow stertorous groan at intervals.Brown, a stout young fellow, wanted to go down; but I stopped him, and in a few seconds had our own well-rope secured round my waist, after giving it a twist on the windlass; and then having seen the handles in the hands of trusty men, I stepped into the bucket and prepared to descend, feeling compelled to go, but all the while in a state of the most horrible fear imaginable, for I always was from a boy a sad coward.“Oh! don’t; pray don’t go, Fred,” whispered my wife, as she clung to me.“I must, I must, darling,” I whispered again. “It would be worse than murder to let the poor fellows lie there when a little exertion would save them.”“Oh! for my sake, don’t, pray;” and then the poor little woman staggered, and would have fallen down the well if I had not caught her in my arms; when we should both have fallen but for the rope round my waist, which fortunately stood the strain, but cut into my ribs fearfully.There were plenty of hands, though, ready to assist, and the poor fainting girl was borne into the house.“Now then,” I cried, “lower gently; and the moment I stop crying out ‘Right’ haul up again, for there will be something wrong.”The windlass creaked and groaned, and then all at once the people round the well seemed to give a jump upwards, and then were gone, while the green, slimy sides of the pit were running up past me as I seemed to stand still in the well-sinker’s broad oak bucket. For a moment I clung to the rope with my eyes shut, when all at once there was a bump, and I opened them to see that I was ascending.“Right, right,” I shouted, when there was another jerk, and I began to descend again, at intervals crying out the word of safety—‘Right’; and so I went down and down, with my flesh creeping, and a strange sensation, as though I was falling rapidly through space.I have no doubt there are plenty of men who would be heroes at proper time and place; but there is no heroic stuff in my composition, for I here boldly assert that I never felt so horribly frightened before in my life, as I went gliding down lower and lower past the green slimy chalk, with the bucket swinging terribly from side to side; for the well was of very large diameter. I kept on giving the signal, and have no idea how it sounded above, but it seemed to me as though it left my lips in the shape of a gasping sob.Still down, down, with the horrid feeling of falling, and a holding of the breath. The depth seemed awful; and now, though doubly secured, I trembled for the safety of the ropes, and turned giddy and closed my eyes.“Is it all right?” shouted a voice from above, and my descent stopped.“Yes, yes,” I shouted, recovering myself; but I could not say “Go on”; for, to my shame I say it, I hoped they would have drawn me up.But, no; down, down, lower and lower. And now I began to smell the burnt, smoky air, but could still breathe freely, and tried to nerve myself to be on the watch for the strata of foul gas into which I felt I must be descending.“Right, right,” I kept shouting; and still down, lower and lower, till it seemed that there could be no bottom; while the bucket kept turning round till it was impossible to keep from feeling giddy. And now in one swing from side to side, the bucket struck the wall, which gave me a new cause for alarm, and when nearing it again, I put out my hand and touched the cold slippery side, when I shuddered more than ever.It did not seem dark: but of a peculiar gloomy aspect, a good deal of which was due, no doubt, to the smoke of the burnt straw.“Right, right,” I shouted, still breathing freely, till the bucket reached the bottom, when I stepped hastily out, and, looking up the well, untwined the two ropes, and grasped the man nearest to me, who was sitting upon the half-burnt straw with which the bottom was covered; while the other stood staring at me as he leaned up against the wall, over his knees in the slime of the bottom.I could feel no holding of the breath; no stifling or sleepy sensation; nothing but horrible fear; as I hastily slipped the rope over my head and secured it with a noose round the poor fellow, whose arm I grasped. I trembled as I did so, for it seemed like throwing away my own safeguard. But in a moment more I stepped in the bucket and yelled out—“Up, up, quickly.”The rope tightened, and we began to rise; and as we did so I shouted to the poor fellow we were leaving—“Back for you directly.”He stared at me with, glassy eyes, but remained immoveable; and I felt my courage rise as we grew less and less distant from the light of heaven. The ropes twisted and turned, but we rose rapidly, and as the windlass creaked and groaned I could hear the voices above cheering, and I responded with a faint “hurrah.” But directly after the fear came upon me again—“Suppose the rope should break!” It did not, though; but I nearly left go of the stout hemp with the effects of the tremor which seized me. But now the cheers grew louder, and at last our heads rose above the sides, when a dozen hands laid hold of us, and we were onterra firmaonce more.“Here, drink this,” cried a voice; and a glass of brandy was pushed into my hand. It was nectar indeed.“Now,” cried young Brown, “I’ll fetch this one up.”“No,” said I, sternly, “I’ll go; for I can stand the foul air.”The ropes were arranged, and directly after I was again descending; and this time the dread did not seem so oppressive, for I did not feel such horror of the mephitic gas at the bottom, since it seemed to me that the excitement—the state of my nerves—sustained me, and I shouted to them to lower faster.On reaching the bottom, the man had not moved his position, and without leaving the bucket, to whose rope I had bound myself with a silk handkerchief I slipped off the noose again, and secured it round the other’s body.The same glassy, dull stare—the same immobility of countenance—the same corpse-like aspect as seen in the gloom, and then, with a cry of wild joy, I shrieked—“Up; up;” but it seemed as though we should never reach the surface as we swung and spun about, and once, to my horror, I saw the rope was slipping over the man’s shoulders; and it was only by clasping him tightly in my arms I saved him from falling.Daylight and willing hands at length; and then I staggered as I was unfastened, and all seemed to swim round as I fainted away.On coming to I found myself on the grass by the side of the two men, who were alive, as I could hear by their stertorous breathing. Kneeling by me was old Dr Scott, looking up at Brown, who had evidently just spoken.“Mephitic air, sir,” said the doctor, “pooh; as drunk as Pharaoh’s sow!”The well was finally cleaned out, and the recovered watch as well; while, by way of consolation for my misapplied energy, I could congratulate myself upon the discovery of a hidden vein of philanthropy in my constitution.
I don’t believe that old well of ours would ever have been cleaned out if it had not been for the magpie, which, by the way, in its tame state is most decidedly as ill-conditioned, dishonest a bird as was ever fledged. Now of course a magpie does not seem to have much to do with a well; but as great oaks grow from little acorns, so do large matters grow out of very small causes.
Our magpie was kept under the impression that he would some day talk; but he never got any further than the monosyllable “Chark,” which with him meant as much as the Italian’s “Altro.” He could say the word plainly when he was six months old; and he could say no more when he was five years, and had achieved to a perpetual moult about the poll, which had the effect of making him look ten times more weird and artful than ever. He would say “chark” for everything, merely varying the key higher or lower according to the exigencies of the case. Goblin came into my possession in exchange for that piece of current money of the merchant called sixpence, which was given to a little, consequential, undersized, under-gardener at a neighbouring seat. This personage, who was known in the place as “my lord,” had early one morning scaled an elm-tree to take a magpie’s nest, but he was so unsuccessful as to secure only one bird—the Goblin in question.
He was a beauty was Goblin; if I believed in the doctrine of metempsychosis, I should say that his little body had been the receptacle of the immortal part of Jack Sheppard—Harrison Ainsworth’s Jack Sheppard; for a more mischievous, thieving scamp never held head on one side, leaped out of reach, after any amount of threatening, stared at you with a keen black eye, and cried “chark.” He was a bird that was always in a state of voracity, or pretended to be so, and dearly loved to hide scraps of meat in all sorts of out-of-the-way places, where he would punch them in, and then forget them; although they smelt loud enough to cause no end of complaints. He was a cleanly bird, too, in his habits, and always took advantage of Newfoundland Nero’s trough being filled with clean water to have a wash, sully the fount, and then hop shivering off to dry the plumage which stuck down to his sides.
So much for the magpie. The well was beneath the walnut-tree, and so close to it that from time to time large pieces of chalk had been pushed in by the roots that forced their way through the sides as if in search of moisture. It was an old, old well, sunk no one knew how many centuries before; but probably dug down out of the chalk, when the monks held the old priory which we tenanted in its modernised form. The old well was always an object of dread to me in childhood; and often have I stealthily crept up to the old green wood cover, dropped a pebble through the rope hole, and listened shudderingly to the hollow, echoing, vibrating sound that came quivering up after the plash. Even in maturer years the old well was one that would obtrude itself into dreams and offer suggestions of the horrors to be found within its depths, and the consequences of a fall to the bottom.
We only used the water for the garden, and hard work it used to be to turn the moss-covered windlass, and drag up the heavy bucket at the end of a hundred feet of rope, when up it came full of greeny-looking water, with some times a frog for passenger. To look down and listen to the hollow drip of the water was enough to make any one shudder, so profound seemed the depth to where a ring of light could be seen, and in spite of its depth, carved as it was right out of the solid chalk, there was never more than some seven or eight feet of water at the bottom, and that none of the cleanest.
Uncle Tom said it would be better filled up; a remark which found a most enthusiastic backer in the old gardener; but water even if green and discoloured was costly in those parts, and therefore the well was not filled up. While as to my uncle’s suggestion, to have it cleaned out, although most excellent, I was too deeply imbued with the Toryish ideas of letting things be as heretofore; and, therefore, the old gardener ground and ground at the old windlass, and the water still came up green; while, contrary to direct orders, the lid of the dangerous place was often left off.
Now, as before said, I don’t believe that old well of ours would ever have been cleaned out if it had not been for the magpie.
One day in summer I had been sitting dreamily trying to follow out some of the rather knotty thoughts in “Festus,” when on raising my eyes I caught sight of Goblin perched upon the little table in the bay window, and before I could move I had the pleasure of seeing him nimbly hook up my wife’s diminutive watch off the little stand, and then hop on to the window-sill, where I made a rush at him and nearly secured his spoil, for the thin chain caught in the Westeria twining round the window. In an instant, however, it had given way, and I had the satisfaction of seeing the little black and white miscreant alight on the gravel walk; and then after fixing the fragile timekeeper with his foot, begin to peck vigorously at the glass, which was shivered directly.
I hurried downstairs, for the window was too high for a jump; and as soon as I rushed to the door, Goblin gave utterance to his one syllable address, seized the watch, and went hopping along the path till he reached the well, where he perched upon the open lid; and as I stopped, half paralysed, and stooped to pick up a stone, Goblin made me a bow, raised his tail with a flick, and then to my horror he left hold of the watch, and I just reached the well in time to hear it, not say “tick,” but “splash,” while the thief hopped into the walnut-tree overhead.
This settled the matter; and two mornings after, a cart stopped at the gate, and Thomas Bore, well-sinker, arrived, accompanied by two labourers, for the purpose of nominally cleaning out the well, but really recovering the watch.
“Now, yer see, sir,” said Thomas Bore, leaning on the windlass and spitting down the well, of course, from habit, “yer see, sir, when we’ve done, this here water ’ll be clear as crischial. But all this here wood-wuck’s old-fashioned. Now I could fit yer up a fust-rate, double action, wheel crank forcer, as ’ud send the water a-flying up like a steam-engine.”
“Rather expensive,” I hinted.
“Mere trifle, sir. Fifty pun, at the outside.”
“Well, suppose we have the cleaning done first,” I said; and being rather timid over such matters, for fear of being persuaded, I turned upon my heel and fled to my breakfast.
Being of a fidgetty turn of mind, and liking to have my money’s worth for my money, I kept an eye upon the proceedings beneath the walnut-tree; and I found that the first two hours were taken up with sitting down, Indian fashion, for a palaver or consultation, during which, in a way of speaking, the trio felt the patient’s pulse—Goblin fitting in the walnut-tree to see how matters progressed.
The rest of the day was taken up with the removal of the old green windlass, and the fixing of one brought over for the purpose; and then two buckets having been flung, the windlass began to turn, and, very slowly, bucket after bucket of water was drawn up; and so eagerly did the men work, that at the end of three days the well was pronounced dry.
Now I had been reckoning that a couple of days would have sufficed for the job; and, therefore, felt disposed to stare when, on going out upon the fourth morning, I found the men still groaning over the task, so as to get out the water that had come in during the night. By noon, however, this was accomplished; when there followed another consultation, the theme being that the well was not safe.
I felt that I was in for it, and muttered to myself “Let well alone;” but it was too late now, so I grinned and bore my troubles—to wit, the very calm proceedings of the men whose united energies, tools, tackling, etc, were costing me at least a guinea per diem, while the well was as dirty as ever.
At last a candle was lit and attached to a piece of wire, the wire to a string, and then it was lowered so fast that before it had attained to two-thirds of the depth it was out.
“Ah,” said Mr Bore, wagging his head sagely; “werry foul indeed, sir; werry foul. We shall have to burn it out.”
This, I found, was accomplished by throwing down a quantity of straw, which was afterwards ignited by sending after it shovelfuls of hot cinders from the kitchen fire, and so making a blaze and a great deal of smoke; while this day passed over and no further progress was made.
The next morning I was out in good time, to the great disgust of Mr Bore, and by ten o’clock I had the satisfaction of seeing the water out once more.
“I ’spose one o’ my men can get a candle in the kitchen, sir,” said Mr Bore.
I signified assent, and then had the satisfaction of seeing the testing process gone through: the light going out before it reached the bottom, which I could not believe was from mephitic gas, though sworn to by Mr Bore, who proceeded to make another bonfire on the top of my wife’s watch, when I was called away, and did not go out again till half-past two, when I found that a man armed with a shovel had just stepped into one of the buckets, and the other man, who had a very red face, began, with the assistance of his master, to let him down.
“Is it all right, Dick?” said Mr Bore, when the man was about half down.
“Ah!” was the response, in a hollow voice; and then he was lowered, further and further, till he must have been near the bottom, when the rope shook; there was an evident loss of the load at the end; and I must confess to a shudder of horror going through me, as a dull, plashing thud came from the depths of the well.
Bore looked at me, and I at him, for a few seconds in silence, when the other man spun round the now light windlass till the other bucket rose.
“Here, lay hold o’ this here,” he cried to me; and from the readiness to obey felt by all in an emergency, I seized the windlass and assisted his master to let him down, as he thrust one leg through the pail-handle and was soon out of sight, for we lowered him down as fast as was possible.
“I’m blowed if there won’t be a coroner’s inquess over this job,” panted Mr Bore, as he turned away at his handle; “I know’d it warn’t safe, only he would go.”
“For goodness sake, turn quicker man,” I cried; and at last, after what seemed ten minutes at least, the empty bucket rose.
“Now, then,” I shouted down the well, “tie the rope round him, quick, and then hang on.”
No answer.
“Do you hear there?” I cried again, with a horrid dread coming over me that the catastrophe was to be doubled; but at last a dull, “All right,” came echoing up.
As for Bore, he sat there upon his handle looking the colour of dough. I saw at once there was no help to be expected from him, so I shouted to one of the maids, and in a few minutes my wife and half a dozen neighbours, male and female, were standing, pale and horror-stricken, around the well.
In the mean time I had tried again and again to rouse the last man down, but could get nothing but a sort of half-stifled “All right;” while at last even that was not forthcoming, nothing but a hollow stertorous groan at intervals.
Brown, a stout young fellow, wanted to go down; but I stopped him, and in a few seconds had our own well-rope secured round my waist, after giving it a twist on the windlass; and then having seen the handles in the hands of trusty men, I stepped into the bucket and prepared to descend, feeling compelled to go, but all the while in a state of the most horrible fear imaginable, for I always was from a boy a sad coward.
“Oh! don’t; pray don’t go, Fred,” whispered my wife, as she clung to me.
“I must, I must, darling,” I whispered again. “It would be worse than murder to let the poor fellows lie there when a little exertion would save them.”
“Oh! for my sake, don’t, pray;” and then the poor little woman staggered, and would have fallen down the well if I had not caught her in my arms; when we should both have fallen but for the rope round my waist, which fortunately stood the strain, but cut into my ribs fearfully.
There were plenty of hands, though, ready to assist, and the poor fainting girl was borne into the house.
“Now then,” I cried, “lower gently; and the moment I stop crying out ‘Right’ haul up again, for there will be something wrong.”
The windlass creaked and groaned, and then all at once the people round the well seemed to give a jump upwards, and then were gone, while the green, slimy sides of the pit were running up past me as I seemed to stand still in the well-sinker’s broad oak bucket. For a moment I clung to the rope with my eyes shut, when all at once there was a bump, and I opened them to see that I was ascending.
“Right, right,” I shouted, when there was another jerk, and I began to descend again, at intervals crying out the word of safety—‘Right’; and so I went down and down, with my flesh creeping, and a strange sensation, as though I was falling rapidly through space.
I have no doubt there are plenty of men who would be heroes at proper time and place; but there is no heroic stuff in my composition, for I here boldly assert that I never felt so horribly frightened before in my life, as I went gliding down lower and lower past the green slimy chalk, with the bucket swinging terribly from side to side; for the well was of very large diameter. I kept on giving the signal, and have no idea how it sounded above, but it seemed to me as though it left my lips in the shape of a gasping sob.
Still down, down, with the horrid feeling of falling, and a holding of the breath. The depth seemed awful; and now, though doubly secured, I trembled for the safety of the ropes, and turned giddy and closed my eyes.
“Is it all right?” shouted a voice from above, and my descent stopped.
“Yes, yes,” I shouted, recovering myself; but I could not say “Go on”; for, to my shame I say it, I hoped they would have drawn me up.
But, no; down, down, lower and lower. And now I began to smell the burnt, smoky air, but could still breathe freely, and tried to nerve myself to be on the watch for the strata of foul gas into which I felt I must be descending.
“Right, right,” I kept shouting; and still down, lower and lower, till it seemed that there could be no bottom; while the bucket kept turning round till it was impossible to keep from feeling giddy. And now in one swing from side to side, the bucket struck the wall, which gave me a new cause for alarm, and when nearing it again, I put out my hand and touched the cold slippery side, when I shuddered more than ever.
It did not seem dark: but of a peculiar gloomy aspect, a good deal of which was due, no doubt, to the smoke of the burnt straw.
“Right, right,” I shouted, still breathing freely, till the bucket reached the bottom, when I stepped hastily out, and, looking up the well, untwined the two ropes, and grasped the man nearest to me, who was sitting upon the half-burnt straw with which the bottom was covered; while the other stood staring at me as he leaned up against the wall, over his knees in the slime of the bottom.
I could feel no holding of the breath; no stifling or sleepy sensation; nothing but horrible fear; as I hastily slipped the rope over my head and secured it with a noose round the poor fellow, whose arm I grasped. I trembled as I did so, for it seemed like throwing away my own safeguard. But in a moment more I stepped in the bucket and yelled out—“Up, up, quickly.”
The rope tightened, and we began to rise; and as we did so I shouted to the poor fellow we were leaving—“Back for you directly.”
He stared at me with, glassy eyes, but remained immoveable; and I felt my courage rise as we grew less and less distant from the light of heaven. The ropes twisted and turned, but we rose rapidly, and as the windlass creaked and groaned I could hear the voices above cheering, and I responded with a faint “hurrah.” But directly after the fear came upon me again—“Suppose the rope should break!” It did not, though; but I nearly left go of the stout hemp with the effects of the tremor which seized me. But now the cheers grew louder, and at last our heads rose above the sides, when a dozen hands laid hold of us, and we were onterra firmaonce more.
“Here, drink this,” cried a voice; and a glass of brandy was pushed into my hand. It was nectar indeed.
“Now,” cried young Brown, “I’ll fetch this one up.”
“No,” said I, sternly, “I’ll go; for I can stand the foul air.”
The ropes were arranged, and directly after I was again descending; and this time the dread did not seem so oppressive, for I did not feel such horror of the mephitic gas at the bottom, since it seemed to me that the excitement—the state of my nerves—sustained me, and I shouted to them to lower faster.
On reaching the bottom, the man had not moved his position, and without leaving the bucket, to whose rope I had bound myself with a silk handkerchief I slipped off the noose again, and secured it round the other’s body.
The same glassy, dull stare—the same immobility of countenance—the same corpse-like aspect as seen in the gloom, and then, with a cry of wild joy, I shrieked—“Up; up;” but it seemed as though we should never reach the surface as we swung and spun about, and once, to my horror, I saw the rope was slipping over the man’s shoulders; and it was only by clasping him tightly in my arms I saved him from falling.
Daylight and willing hands at length; and then I staggered as I was unfastened, and all seemed to swim round as I fainted away.
On coming to I found myself on the grass by the side of the two men, who were alive, as I could hear by their stertorous breathing. Kneeling by me was old Dr Scott, looking up at Brown, who had evidently just spoken.
“Mephitic air, sir,” said the doctor, “pooh; as drunk as Pharaoh’s sow!”
The well was finally cleaned out, and the recovered watch as well; while, by way of consolation for my misapplied energy, I could congratulate myself upon the discovery of a hidden vein of philanthropy in my constitution.
Chapter Eighteen.On the Great Deep.The creaking and groaning of the timbers, the tossing and plunging of the ship, and the heavy beating of the waves upon her sides, tended to drive away sleep, without the accessories of pale and anxious faces, wringing hands, and here and there a kneeling form and supplicating murmur. Now and then came a heavy crash, and the good ship shook and quivered beneath the tons of water poured sweeping along the deck; and once the news was somehow circulated among the helpless passengers, that three of the sailors had been swept overboard, and that the life-buoy, with its blazing light, had been cut adrift, when as it floated away, a man was seen clinging to it, with the glare shining upon his pale and agonised face. And we knew that it was but to prolong his torture, for in such a storm no boat could go to his aid—that he would cling there for a while, and then would come the end.It was a fearful night, and, one and all, we thought of the words of the Psalmist. We who had come down to the sea were seeing His wonders; and now we thought of the utter insignificance—the littleness—the helplessness of man in the grand strife of the elements. With all man’s skill, with all his ingenuity in building, our barque seemed frail, and but a few slight planks to save us from death—from being cast away upon the further shore; and but for the knowledge of One mighty to save, who held the seas in the hollow of His hand, at such a time despair would have swept over us as a flood. Homeward bound, we had left the sunny shores of the Austral land, with a fair wind, and for the past fortnight the thoughts of the old country had grown stronger in us day by day. I saw again the sweet old hills of Surrey, and looked in fancy, as I had in reality, half a score years before, over many a rounded knoll glowing with the golden blossoms of the furze; then at the hill-side and hollow, brown and purple with the heath; and then again at fir-crowned sandy heights, relieved by verdant patches of cultivated land.Home, sweet home; dearer than ever when distant, and in spite of success, and the prodigality of my adopted land, it was with swelling heart, and even tear-dimmed eyes, that I thought of the old country that I had left in poverty, but was returning to in wealth.Over the bright dancing waters we sped, night and day, ever onward across the trackless waste. Seeing the watch set night by night, and then seeking my cot with the feeling stronger and stronger upon me of how completely we are in the hands of our Maker, and how slight a barrier is all our care and watchfulness against the power of the elements.Farther south we sailed, and the weather grew colder, and at last, one night, with a howl and a roar, as if raging at us for daring to intrude upon its domains, the storm came down and shrieked in the rigging. But we had a staunch man for captain, and he had made his arrangements in time, for he had seen the enemy coming, and prepared to battle with him. I stood holding on by the bulwarks, and watched the masts bend, and the shrouds upon one side tighten as upon the other they bellied out beneath the fury of the gale. There was not a cloud to be seen overhead, but all keen and bright starlight; while instead of burning brightly and clearly, the various orbs seemed to quiver and tremble as the tremendously agitated atmosphere swept between earth and sky. As for the waves, they were changed in a moment from inky blackness to white churned foam, as the gale swept over them, tearing away the spray, and drenching all upon deck.“Are we in danger?” I said to the captain, as he came and stood close by me.“Well,” he said, almost shouting, so great was the force of the wind, “I always consider we’re in danger from the day we leave port till we cast anchor again, but I do my best, and hope for the best.”Then the thought came upon me as I listened to the tremendous din around, that we should never see land again; and a dreadful feeling of despair seemed to take possession of my spirit, for standing there helpless and inactive was so oppressive at such a time. If I could have been busy, and toiled hard, it would have been different; for then the feeling that I was of some service would have cheered me on, while the thought of standing still and drowning, without an effort to save life, was fearful.And now it was the second night, and the piercing gale blowing harder than ever. Three men lost, and the rest worn-out, anxious, and numbed with the cold. I could not stay below, for the scene was awful, and at last gladly crawled on deck at the risk of being swept overboard. There were two poor fellows lashed to the wheel, and every few minutes I could see the captain there, evidently whispering words of encouragement, and truly they were needed at such a time. All around, the waves seemed to be rising about us as if to overwhelm the ship and bear her down, and in spite of every care upon the captain’s part, now and then down came a huge volume of water upon the deck, over which it seemed to curl, and then rushed along, sweeping everything before it. Two boats had gone, and a great piece of the bulwark been swept away as though of cardboard; and yet, in spite of all, the captain appeared to be as cool and quiet as if we were in a calm.Once only did he seem moved, and that was when one of the sailors came up from below and whispered to him, but he was himself again in an instant; the hatches were already secured with tarpaulins over them, but I soon understood the new danger; for the pumps were rigged, and turn and turn, sailors and passengers, we worked at them to lighten the ship of the water, which was creeping snakelike in at many a strained seam.But few of us knew, as the gale slowly abated, how narrow an escape we had had, but the shrunken crew, and the torn bulwarks showed but too plainly how sharp had been the tussle; and yet before long all seemed forgotten, and we were gently parting the waters with a light breeze astern bearing us homeward.Young people form very romantic notions as to the wonders to be seen in travelling; and all such castle-builders must be sadly disappointed in the incidents and sights presented by a long sea voyage. The deep blue sea is certainly beautiful, and it is interesting to watch the fish playing below the ship’s keel, far down in the clear water; the sunrise and sunset, too, are very glorious, when ship and rigging seem to be turned to gold, and the sea, far as the eye can reach, one mass of glorious molten metal, gently heaving, or here and there broken by a ripple. But day after day the same monotony: no change; nothing but sea and sky, far as the eye could reach, and in the deep silence of the mighty ocean there is something awe-imposing and oppressive to the spirit. I had seen it in its wildest mood, and when the waves lightly danced and sparkled; and now, one day, when the voyage was about half over, came a calm, with the sun beating down day by day with a fervent heat that rendered the iron-work of the ship too hot to be touched, while the pitch grew soft in every seam. The sea just gently heaved, but there was not the slightest breath of air to fan our cheeks, and sailors and captain walked impatiently about waiting for the coming breeze, which should take us farther upon our way.We were about four hundred miles, I suppose, from the nearest land, and for days the only thing that had taken our attention was the occasional ripple made by a shoal of fish, or the slow, sailing, gliding flight of a huge albatross, seeming in its sluggish way to float up and down in the air, as though upon a series of inclined planes.I was standing one afternoon beneath the awning, talking to the captain, when one of the men aloft announced a boat on the lee bow.“What is she?” said the captain.“Boat or canoe, sir,” said the man.“Any one in her?” said the captain.“Can’t see a soul, sir,” said the man.Well, this was a change, to break the monotony. A boat was soon manned and put off, with both the captain and myself in the sternsheets; and then the men bent to their oars and rowed in the direction pointed out.Before long we could see the canoe, for such it proved to be, lightly rising and falling upon the gentle swell; but it seemed unoccupied, and we rowed on till we were close up, but still no one showed.At last the bow-man stood up with his boat-hook; and, as we closed up, laid hold of the light bark canoe, and drew it alongside. But it was not unoccupied.There in the bottom, with fish that he had caught lying by him, in company with a spear and several fishing-lines and roughly-made hooks, was the owner of the canoe—a fine-looking, dusky-hued, half-clad savage, lying as though asleep, but quite dead—evidently from want of water; for there were fish enough in the canoe to have sustained life for some days.To judge from appearances, it seemed that the poor fellow had either been borne out by some powerful current, or blown off the shore by one of the gales which sweep down from the coast; and in imagination I could paint the despair of the poor wretch toiling with his paddle to regain the land which held all that was dear to him. Toiling in his frail skiff beneath the fervour of the tropic sun, and toiling in vain till faint with the heat and parched with thirst, with the bright and sparkling water leaping murmuringly round, till exhausted he fell back, with the dull film of despair gathering on his eyes, and sank into a dreamy stupor filled with visions of home, green trees waving, and the gurgling of a stream through a cocoa-grove. Then to wake once more with renewed energy—to paddle frantically for the dim coastline; but still to find that his unaided efforts were useless, and that every minute he was farther away from the wished-for goal. Only a savage—untutored, unlettered; but yet a man made in God’s own image, and with the same passions as ourselves. Only a savage—and yet in his calm, deep sleep, noble, and lordly of aspect; and there he lay, with all around him placed orderly and neatly, and it seemed that, after that wild struggle for life, when nature prompts, and every pulse beats anxiously to preserve that great gift of the Creator—it seemed that he had quietly, calmly, let us say, too, hopefully—for dark is the savage mind indeed that has not some rays of light and belief in a great overruling Spirit—hopefully lain him down in the bottom of the canoe and gone to sleep.There was not a man there, from the captain to the roughest sailor, but spoke in an under-tone in the presence of the remains of that poor savage; for now they were by the sacred dead—far away upon the mighty ocean, solemn in its calm, with the sun sinking to his rest, and sending a path of glory across the otherwise trackless waters—the sky glowing with his farewell rays, and everywhere silence, not even the sigh of the gale or the gentle lapping of the water against the boat.I started as the captain gave the order to give way; and then found that the canoe was made fast, and slowly towed back to the ship, where it was hoisted on board.An hour afterwards we were all assembled on deck, and bareheaded. The unclouded moon was nearly at the full, and shone brightly upon the scene, for in the latitudes where we then were night follows quickly upon sunset. Sewn up in a piece of sailcloth, and resting upon a plank, was the body of the poor savage; while taking their cue from the captain, sailors and passengers stood grouped around, silent and grave, as though the calm sleeping form had been that of a dear companion and friend.Not another sound was heard, as in a deep, impressive voice the captain commenced reading the service for the burial of the dead. Solemn and touching at all times, but doubly so now, far out in the midst of the great wilderness of waters; and, besides, there was something mournful in the poor fellow’s fate, which made its way to the hearts of even the rudest seaman present.And still the captain read on till the appointed time, when one end of the plank was raised, and the form slowly glided from the ship, and plunged heavily beneath the wave; the waters circled and sparkled in the moonlight for a few moments, lapping against the ship’s side, and then all was still again but the deep, solemn voice of the captain as he read on to the end, when the men silently dispersed and talked in whispers, while the canoe which lay upon the deck reminded us at every turn of the sad incident we had witnessed.The next day down came a fair wind: sails were shaken out, the cordage tightened, the vessel heeled over, and once more we were cleaving our way through the dancing waters; but the recollection of the dead savage floating alone upon the great ocean clung to us all for the remainder of the voyage.
The creaking and groaning of the timbers, the tossing and plunging of the ship, and the heavy beating of the waves upon her sides, tended to drive away sleep, without the accessories of pale and anxious faces, wringing hands, and here and there a kneeling form and supplicating murmur. Now and then came a heavy crash, and the good ship shook and quivered beneath the tons of water poured sweeping along the deck; and once the news was somehow circulated among the helpless passengers, that three of the sailors had been swept overboard, and that the life-buoy, with its blazing light, had been cut adrift, when as it floated away, a man was seen clinging to it, with the glare shining upon his pale and agonised face. And we knew that it was but to prolong his torture, for in such a storm no boat could go to his aid—that he would cling there for a while, and then would come the end.
It was a fearful night, and, one and all, we thought of the words of the Psalmist. We who had come down to the sea were seeing His wonders; and now we thought of the utter insignificance—the littleness—the helplessness of man in the grand strife of the elements. With all man’s skill, with all his ingenuity in building, our barque seemed frail, and but a few slight planks to save us from death—from being cast away upon the further shore; and but for the knowledge of One mighty to save, who held the seas in the hollow of His hand, at such a time despair would have swept over us as a flood. Homeward bound, we had left the sunny shores of the Austral land, with a fair wind, and for the past fortnight the thoughts of the old country had grown stronger in us day by day. I saw again the sweet old hills of Surrey, and looked in fancy, as I had in reality, half a score years before, over many a rounded knoll glowing with the golden blossoms of the furze; then at the hill-side and hollow, brown and purple with the heath; and then again at fir-crowned sandy heights, relieved by verdant patches of cultivated land.
Home, sweet home; dearer than ever when distant, and in spite of success, and the prodigality of my adopted land, it was with swelling heart, and even tear-dimmed eyes, that I thought of the old country that I had left in poverty, but was returning to in wealth.
Over the bright dancing waters we sped, night and day, ever onward across the trackless waste. Seeing the watch set night by night, and then seeking my cot with the feeling stronger and stronger upon me of how completely we are in the hands of our Maker, and how slight a barrier is all our care and watchfulness against the power of the elements.
Farther south we sailed, and the weather grew colder, and at last, one night, with a howl and a roar, as if raging at us for daring to intrude upon its domains, the storm came down and shrieked in the rigging. But we had a staunch man for captain, and he had made his arrangements in time, for he had seen the enemy coming, and prepared to battle with him. I stood holding on by the bulwarks, and watched the masts bend, and the shrouds upon one side tighten as upon the other they bellied out beneath the fury of the gale. There was not a cloud to be seen overhead, but all keen and bright starlight; while instead of burning brightly and clearly, the various orbs seemed to quiver and tremble as the tremendously agitated atmosphere swept between earth and sky. As for the waves, they were changed in a moment from inky blackness to white churned foam, as the gale swept over them, tearing away the spray, and drenching all upon deck.
“Are we in danger?” I said to the captain, as he came and stood close by me.
“Well,” he said, almost shouting, so great was the force of the wind, “I always consider we’re in danger from the day we leave port till we cast anchor again, but I do my best, and hope for the best.”
Then the thought came upon me as I listened to the tremendous din around, that we should never see land again; and a dreadful feeling of despair seemed to take possession of my spirit, for standing there helpless and inactive was so oppressive at such a time. If I could have been busy, and toiled hard, it would have been different; for then the feeling that I was of some service would have cheered me on, while the thought of standing still and drowning, without an effort to save life, was fearful.
And now it was the second night, and the piercing gale blowing harder than ever. Three men lost, and the rest worn-out, anxious, and numbed with the cold. I could not stay below, for the scene was awful, and at last gladly crawled on deck at the risk of being swept overboard. There were two poor fellows lashed to the wheel, and every few minutes I could see the captain there, evidently whispering words of encouragement, and truly they were needed at such a time. All around, the waves seemed to be rising about us as if to overwhelm the ship and bear her down, and in spite of every care upon the captain’s part, now and then down came a huge volume of water upon the deck, over which it seemed to curl, and then rushed along, sweeping everything before it. Two boats had gone, and a great piece of the bulwark been swept away as though of cardboard; and yet, in spite of all, the captain appeared to be as cool and quiet as if we were in a calm.
Once only did he seem moved, and that was when one of the sailors came up from below and whispered to him, but he was himself again in an instant; the hatches were already secured with tarpaulins over them, but I soon understood the new danger; for the pumps were rigged, and turn and turn, sailors and passengers, we worked at them to lighten the ship of the water, which was creeping snakelike in at many a strained seam.
But few of us knew, as the gale slowly abated, how narrow an escape we had had, but the shrunken crew, and the torn bulwarks showed but too plainly how sharp had been the tussle; and yet before long all seemed forgotten, and we were gently parting the waters with a light breeze astern bearing us homeward.
Young people form very romantic notions as to the wonders to be seen in travelling; and all such castle-builders must be sadly disappointed in the incidents and sights presented by a long sea voyage. The deep blue sea is certainly beautiful, and it is interesting to watch the fish playing below the ship’s keel, far down in the clear water; the sunrise and sunset, too, are very glorious, when ship and rigging seem to be turned to gold, and the sea, far as the eye can reach, one mass of glorious molten metal, gently heaving, or here and there broken by a ripple. But day after day the same monotony: no change; nothing but sea and sky, far as the eye could reach, and in the deep silence of the mighty ocean there is something awe-imposing and oppressive to the spirit. I had seen it in its wildest mood, and when the waves lightly danced and sparkled; and now, one day, when the voyage was about half over, came a calm, with the sun beating down day by day with a fervent heat that rendered the iron-work of the ship too hot to be touched, while the pitch grew soft in every seam. The sea just gently heaved, but there was not the slightest breath of air to fan our cheeks, and sailors and captain walked impatiently about waiting for the coming breeze, which should take us farther upon our way.
We were about four hundred miles, I suppose, from the nearest land, and for days the only thing that had taken our attention was the occasional ripple made by a shoal of fish, or the slow, sailing, gliding flight of a huge albatross, seeming in its sluggish way to float up and down in the air, as though upon a series of inclined planes.
I was standing one afternoon beneath the awning, talking to the captain, when one of the men aloft announced a boat on the lee bow.
“What is she?” said the captain.
“Boat or canoe, sir,” said the man.
“Any one in her?” said the captain.
“Can’t see a soul, sir,” said the man.
Well, this was a change, to break the monotony. A boat was soon manned and put off, with both the captain and myself in the sternsheets; and then the men bent to their oars and rowed in the direction pointed out.
Before long we could see the canoe, for such it proved to be, lightly rising and falling upon the gentle swell; but it seemed unoccupied, and we rowed on till we were close up, but still no one showed.
At last the bow-man stood up with his boat-hook; and, as we closed up, laid hold of the light bark canoe, and drew it alongside. But it was not unoccupied.
There in the bottom, with fish that he had caught lying by him, in company with a spear and several fishing-lines and roughly-made hooks, was the owner of the canoe—a fine-looking, dusky-hued, half-clad savage, lying as though asleep, but quite dead—evidently from want of water; for there were fish enough in the canoe to have sustained life for some days.
To judge from appearances, it seemed that the poor fellow had either been borne out by some powerful current, or blown off the shore by one of the gales which sweep down from the coast; and in imagination I could paint the despair of the poor wretch toiling with his paddle to regain the land which held all that was dear to him. Toiling in his frail skiff beneath the fervour of the tropic sun, and toiling in vain till faint with the heat and parched with thirst, with the bright and sparkling water leaping murmuringly round, till exhausted he fell back, with the dull film of despair gathering on his eyes, and sank into a dreamy stupor filled with visions of home, green trees waving, and the gurgling of a stream through a cocoa-grove. Then to wake once more with renewed energy—to paddle frantically for the dim coastline; but still to find that his unaided efforts were useless, and that every minute he was farther away from the wished-for goal. Only a savage—untutored, unlettered; but yet a man made in God’s own image, and with the same passions as ourselves. Only a savage—and yet in his calm, deep sleep, noble, and lordly of aspect; and there he lay, with all around him placed orderly and neatly, and it seemed that, after that wild struggle for life, when nature prompts, and every pulse beats anxiously to preserve that great gift of the Creator—it seemed that he had quietly, calmly, let us say, too, hopefully—for dark is the savage mind indeed that has not some rays of light and belief in a great overruling Spirit—hopefully lain him down in the bottom of the canoe and gone to sleep.
There was not a man there, from the captain to the roughest sailor, but spoke in an under-tone in the presence of the remains of that poor savage; for now they were by the sacred dead—far away upon the mighty ocean, solemn in its calm, with the sun sinking to his rest, and sending a path of glory across the otherwise trackless waters—the sky glowing with his farewell rays, and everywhere silence, not even the sigh of the gale or the gentle lapping of the water against the boat.
I started as the captain gave the order to give way; and then found that the canoe was made fast, and slowly towed back to the ship, where it was hoisted on board.
An hour afterwards we were all assembled on deck, and bareheaded. The unclouded moon was nearly at the full, and shone brightly upon the scene, for in the latitudes where we then were night follows quickly upon sunset. Sewn up in a piece of sailcloth, and resting upon a plank, was the body of the poor savage; while taking their cue from the captain, sailors and passengers stood grouped around, silent and grave, as though the calm sleeping form had been that of a dear companion and friend.
Not another sound was heard, as in a deep, impressive voice the captain commenced reading the service for the burial of the dead. Solemn and touching at all times, but doubly so now, far out in the midst of the great wilderness of waters; and, besides, there was something mournful in the poor fellow’s fate, which made its way to the hearts of even the rudest seaman present.
And still the captain read on till the appointed time, when one end of the plank was raised, and the form slowly glided from the ship, and plunged heavily beneath the wave; the waters circled and sparkled in the moonlight for a few moments, lapping against the ship’s side, and then all was still again but the deep, solemn voice of the captain as he read on to the end, when the men silently dispersed and talked in whispers, while the canoe which lay upon the deck reminded us at every turn of the sad incident we had witnessed.
The next day down came a fair wind: sails were shaken out, the cordage tightened, the vessel heeled over, and once more we were cleaving our way through the dancing waters; but the recollection of the dead savage floating alone upon the great ocean clung to us all for the remainder of the voyage.