As soon as she was sufficiently composed, was sworn, and gave her evidence.
'My lord,' said Edward Templemore, 'I request permission to ask the prisoner a question. When I was on board of the wreck of theAvenger, I found this book floating in the cabin. I wish to ask the prisoner whether, as that young lady has informed me, it is his?' And Edward Templemore produced the Bible.
'It is mine,' replied Francisco.
'May I ask you by what means it came into your possession?'
'It is the only relic left of one who is now no more. It was the consolation of my murdered mother; it has since been mine. Give it to me, sir; I may probably need its support now more than ever.'
'Was your mother murdered, say you?' cried Edward Templemore, with much agitation.
'I have already said so; and I now repeat it.'
The judge again rose, and recapitulated the evidence to the jury. Evidently friendly to Francisco, he was obliged to point out to them, that although the evidence of the young lady had produced much which might be offered in extenuation, and induce him to submit it to His Majesty, in hopes of his gracious pardon after condemnation, yet, that many acts in which the prisoner had been involved had endangered his life, and no testimony had been brought forward to prove that he had not, at one time, acted with the pirates, although he might since have repented. They would, of course, remember that the evidence of the mate, Hawkhurst, was not of any value, and must dismiss any impression which it might have made against Francisco. At the same time he had the unpleasant duty to point out that the evidence of the Spanish lady was so far prejudicial, that it pointed out the good terms subsisting between the young man and the pirate captain. Much as he was interested in his fate, he must reluctantly remind the jury that the evidence on the whole was not sufficient to clear the prisoner; and he considered it their duty to return a verdict ofguilty against all the prisoners at the bar.
'My lord,' said Edward Templemore, a few seconds after the judge had resumed his seat, 'may not the contents of this packet, the seal of which I have not ventured to break, afford some evidence in favour of the prisoner? Have youany objection that it should be opened previous to the jury delivering their verdict?'
'None,' replied the judge; 'but what are its supposed contents?'
'The contents, my lord,' replied Francisco, 'are in the writing of the pirate captain. He delivered that packet into my hands previous to our quitting the schooner, stating that it would inform me who were my parents. My lord, in my present situation I claim that packet, and refuse that its contents shall be read in court. If I am to die an ignominious death, at least those who are connected with me shall not have to blush at my disgrace, for the secret of my parentage shall die with me.'
'Nay—nay; be ruled by me,' replied Edward Templemore, with much emotion. 'In the narrative, the handwriting of which can be proved by the king's evidence, there may be acknowledgment of all you have stated, and it will be received as evidence; will it not, my lord?'
'If the handwriting is proved, I should think it may,' replied the judge; 'particularly as the lady was present when the packet was delivered, and heard the captain's assertion. Will you allow it to be offered as evidence, young man?'
'No, my lord,' replied Francisco; 'unless I have permission first to peruse it myself. I will not have its contents divulged, unless I am sure of an honourable acquittal. The jury must deliver their verdict.'
The jury turned round to consult, during which Edward Templemore walked to Francisco, accompanied by Clara, to entreat him to allow the packet to be opened; but Francisco was firm against both their entreaties. At last the foreman of the jury rose to deliver the verdict. A solemn and awful silence prevailed throughout the court; the suspense was painful to a degree.
'My lord,' said the foreman of the jury, 'our verdict is——'
'Stop, sir!' said Edward Templemore, as he clasped one arm round the astonished Francisco, and extended the other towards the foreman. 'Stop, sir! harm him not! for he is my brother!'
'And my preserver!' cried Clara, kneeling on the other side of Francisco, and holding up her hands in supplication.
The announcement was electrical; the foreman dropped into his seat; the judge and whole court were in mute astonishment. The dead silence was followed by confusion, which, after a time, the judge in vain attempted to put a stop to.
Edward Templemore, Clara, and Francisco, continued to form the same group; and never was there one more beautiful. And now that they were together, every one in court perceived the strong resemblance between the two young men.
Francisco's complexion was darker than Edward's, from his constant exposure, from infancy, to tropical sun; but the features of the two were the same.
It was some time before the judge could obtain silence in the court; and when it had been obtained, he was himself puzzled how to proceed.
Edward and Francisco, who had exchanged a few words, were now standing side by side.
'My lord,' said Edward Templemore, 'the prisoner consents that the packet shall be opened.'
'I do,' said Francisco mournfully; 'although I have but little hope from its contents. Alas! now that I have everything to live for—now that I cling to life, I feel as if every chance was gone! The days of miracles have passed; and nothing but the miracle of the reappearance of the pirate captain from the grave can prove my innocence.'
'He reappears from the grave to prove thine innocence, Francisco!' said a deep, hollow voice, which startled the whole court, and most of all Hawkhurst and the prisoners at the bar. Still more did fear and horror distort their countenances when into the witness-box stalked the giant form of Cain.
But it was no longer the figure which we have described in the commencement of this narrative; his beard had been removed, and he was pale, wan, and emaciated. His sunken eyes, his hollow cheek, and a short cough, which interrupted his speech, proved that his days were nearly at a close.
'My lord,' said Cain, addressing the judge, 'I am the pirate Cain, and was the captain of theAvenger! Still am I free! I come here voluntarily, that I may attest the innocence of that young man! As yet, my hand has not known themanacle, nor my feet the gyves! I am not a prisoner, nor included in the indictment, and at present my evidence is good. None know me in this court, except those whose testimony, as prisoners, is unavailing; and therefore, to save that boy, and only to save him, I demand that I may be sworn.'
The oath was administered with more than usual solemnity.
'My lord, and gentlemen of the jury, I have been in court since the commencement of the trial, and I declare that every word which Francisco has uttered in his own defence is true. He is totally innocent of any act of piracy or murder; the packet would, indeed, have proved as much: but in that packet there are secrets which I wished to remain unknown to all but Francisco; and, rather than it should be opened, I have come forward myself. How that young officer discovered that Francisco is his brother I know not; but if he also is the son of Cecilia Templemore, it is true. But the packet will explain all.
'And now, my lords, that my evidence is received, I am content; I have done one good deed before I die, and I surrender myself, as a pirate and a foul murderer, to justice. True, my life is nearly closed—thanks to that villain there; but I prefer that I should meet that death I merit, as an expiation of my many deeds of guilt.'
Cain then turned to Hawkhurst, who was close to him, but the mate appeared to be in a state of stupor; he had not recovered from his first terror, and still imagined the appearance of Cain to be supernatural.
'Villain!' exclaimed Cain, putting his mouth close to Hawkhurst's ear; 'doubly d—d villain! thou'lt die like a dog, and unrevenged! The boy is safe, and I'm alive!'
'Art thou really living?' said Hawkhurst, recovering from his fear.
'Blood for blood!'
'Yes, living—yes, flesh and blood; feel, wretch! feel this arm, and be convinced; thou hast felt the power of it before now,' continued Cain sarcastically. 'And now, my lord, I have done; Francisco, fare thee well! I loved thee, and have proved my love. Hate not then my memory, and forgive me—yes, forgive me when I'm no more,' said Cain, who then turned his eyes to the ceiling of the court-house. 'Yes, there she is, Francisco!—there she is! and see,' cried he,extending both arms above his head, 'she smiles upon—yes, Francisco, your sainted mother smiles and pardons——'
The sentence was not finished; for Hawkhurst, when Cain's arms were upheld, perceived his knife in his girdle, and, with the rapidity of thought, he drew it out, and passed it through the body of the pirate captain.
Cain fell heavily on the floor, while the court was again in confusion. Hawkhurst was secured, and Cain raised from the ground.
'I thank thee, Hawkhurst!' said Cain, in an expiring voice; 'another murder thou hast to answer for; and you have saved me from the disgrace, not of the gallows, but of the gallows in thy company. Francisco, boy, farewell!' and Cain groaned deeply, and expired.
Thus perished the renowned pirate captain, who in his life had shed so much blood, and whose death produced another murder. 'Blood for blood!'
The body was removed; and it now remained but for the jury to give their verdict. All the prisoners were found guilty, with the exception of Francisco, who left the dock accompanied by his newly-found brother, and the congratulations of every individual who could gain access to him.
Our first object will be to explain to the reader by what means Edward Templemore was induced to surmise that in Francisco, whom he had considered as a rival, he had found a brother; and also to account for the reappearance of the pirate Cain.
In pursuance of his orders, Edward Templemore had proceeded on board of the wreck of theAvenger; and while his men were employed in collecting articles of great value which were on board of her, he had descended into the cabin, which was partly under water. Here he had picked up a book floating near the lockers, and on examination found it to be a Bible.
Surprised at seeing such a book on board of a pirate, he had taken it with him when he returned to theEnterprise, and had shown it to Clara, who immediately recognised it as the property of Francisco. The book was saturated with the salt water, and as Edward mechanically turned over the pages, he referred to the title-page to see if there was any name upon it. There was not; but he observed that the blank or fly-leaf next to the binding had been pasted down, and that there was writing on the other side. In its present state it was easily detached from the cover; and then, to his astonishment, he read the name of Cecilia Templemore—his own mother. He knew well the history; how he had been saved, and his mother and brother supposed to be lost; and it may readily be imagined how great was his anxiety to ascertain by what means her Bible had come into the possession of Francisco. He dared not think Francisco was his brother—that he was so closely connected with one he still supposed to be a pirate: but the circumstance was possible; and although he had intended tohave remained a few days longer, he now listened to the entreaties of Clara, whose peculiar position on board was only to be justified by the peculiar position from which she had been rescued, and returning that evening to the wreck he set fire to her, and then made all sail for Port Royal.
Fortunately he arrived, as we have stated, on the day of the trial; and as soon as the signal was made by the admiral he immediately manned his gig, and taking Clara with him, in case her evidence might be of use, arrived at the court-house when the trial was about half over.
In our last chapter but one, we stated that Cain had been wounded by Hawkhurst, when he was swimming on shore, and had sunk; the ball had entered his chest, and passed through his lungs. The contest between Hawkhurst and Francisco, and their capture by Edward, had taken place on the other side of the ridge of rocks, in the adjacent cove, and although Francisco had seen Cain disappear, and concluded that he was dead, it was not so; he had again risen above the water, and dropping his feet and finding bottom, he contrived to crawl out, and wade into a cave adjacent, where he lay down to die.
But in this cave there was one of theAvenger'sboats, two of the pirates, mortally wounded, and the four Kroumen, who had concealed themselves there with the intention of taking no part in the conflict, and as soon as it became dark of making their escape in the boat, which they had hauled up dry into the cave.
Cain staggered in, recovered the dry land, and fell. Pompey, the Krouman, perceiving his condition, went to his assistance and bound up his wound, and the stanching of the blood soon revived the pirate captain. The other pirates died unaided.
Although the island was searched in every direction, this cave, from the water flowing into it, escaped the vigilance of the British seamen; and when they re-embarked with the majority of the pirates captured, Cain and the Kroumen were undiscovered.
As soon as it was dark Cain informed them of his intentions; and although the Kroumen would probably have left him to his fate, yet, as they required his services to know how to steer to some other island, he was assisted into the stern-sheets, and the boat was backed out of the cave.
By the directions of Cain they passed through the passage between the great island and the northern Cayque, and before daylight were far away from any chance of capture.
Cain had now to a certain degree recovered, and knowing that they were in the channel of the small traders, he pointed put to the Kroumen that, if supposed to be pirates, they would inevitably be punished, although not guilty, and that they must pass off as the crew of a small coasting-vessel which had been wrecked. He then, with the assistance of Pompey, cut off his beard as close as he could, and arranged his dress in a more European style. They had neither water nor provisions, and were exposed to a vertical sun. Fortunately for them, and still more fortunately for Francisco, on the second day they were picked up by an American brig bound to Antigua.
Cain narrated his fictitious disasters, but said nothing about his wound, the neglect of which would certainly have occasioned his death a very few days after he appeared at the trial, had he not fallen by the malignity of Hawkhurst.
Anxious to find his way to Port Royal, for he was indifferent as to his own life, and only wished to save Francisco, he was overjoyed to meet a small schooner trading between the islands, bound to Port Royal. In that vessel he obtained a passage for himself and the Kroumen, and had arrived three days previous to the trial, and during that time had remained concealed until the day that the Admiralty Court assembled.
It may be as well here to remark that Cain's reason for not wishing the packet to be opened was, that among the other papers relative to Francisco were directions for the recovery of the treasure which he had concealed, and which, of course, he wished to be communicated to Francisco alone.
We will leave the reader to imagine what passed between Francisco and Edward after the discovery of their kindred, and proceed to state the contents of the packet, which the twin-brothers now opened in the presence of Clara alone.
We must, however, condense the matter, which was very voluminous. It stated that Cain, whose real name was Charles Osborne, had sailed in a fine schooner from Bilboa, for the coast of Africa, to procure a cargo of slaves; and had been out about twenty-four hours when the crew perceived a boat, apparently with no one in her, floating about a mile ahead of them. The water was then smooth, and the vessel had butlittle way. As soon as they came up with the boat, they lowered down their skiff to examine her.
The men sent in the skiff soon returned, towing the boat alongside. Lying at the bottom of the boat were found several men almost dead, and reduced to skeletons, and in the stern-sheets a negro woman, with a child at her breast, and a white female in the last state of exhaustion.
Osborne was then a gay and unprincipled man, but not a hardened villain and murderer, as he afterwards became; he had compassion and feeling. They were all taken on board the schooner: some recovered, others were too much exhausted. Among those restored was Cecilia Templemore and the infant, who at first had been considered quite dead; but the negro woman, exhausted by the demands of her nursling and her privations, expired as she was being removed from the boat. A goat, that fortunately was on board, proved a substitute for the negress; and before Osborne had arrived off the coast, the child had recovered its health and vigour, and the mother her extreme beauty.
We must now pass over a considerable portion of the narrative. Osborne was impetuous in his passions, and Cecilia Templemore became his victim. He had, indeed, afterwards quieted her qualms of conscience by a pretended marriage, when he arrived at the Brazils with his cargo of human flesh. But that was little alleviation of her sufferings; she who had been indulged in every luxury, who had been educated with the greatest care, was now lost for ever, an outcast from the society to which she could never hope to return, and associating with those she both dreaded and despised. She passed her days and her nights in tears; and had soon more cause for sorrow from the brutal treatment she received from Osborne, who had been her destroyer. Her child was her only solace; but for him, and the fear of leaving him to the demoralising influence of those about him, she would have laid down and died: but she lived for him—for him attempted to recall Osborne from his career of increasing guilt—bore meekly with reproaches and with blows. At last Osborne changed his nefarious life for one of deeper guilt: he became a pirate, and still carried with him Cecilia and her child.
This was the climax of her misery; she now wasted from day to day, and grief would soon have terminated her existence,had it not been hastened by the cruelty of Cain, who, upon an expostulation on her part, followed up with a denunciation of the consequences of his guilty career, struck her with such violence that she sank under the blow. She expired with a prayer that her child might be rescued from a life of guilt; and when the then repentant Cain promised what he never did perform, she blessed him, too, before she died.
Such was the substance of the narrative, as far as it related to the unfortunate mother of these two young men, who, when they had concluded, sat hand-in-hand in mournful silence. This, however, was soon broken by the innumerable questions asked by Edward of his brother, as to what he could remember of their ill-fated parent, which were followed up by the history of Francisco's eventful life.
'And the treasure, Edward,' said Francisco; 'I cannot take possession of it.'
'No, nor shall you either,' replied Edward; 'it belongs to the captors, and must be shared as prize-money. You will never touch one penny of it; but I shall, I trust, pocket a very fair proportion of it! However, keep this paper, as it is addressed to you.'
The admiral had been made acquainted with all the particulars of this eventful trial, and had sent a message to Edward, requesting that, as soon as he and his brother could make it convenient, he would be happy to see them at the Penn, as well as the daughter of the Spanish governor, whom he must consider as being under his protection during the time that she remained at Port Royal. This offer was gladly accepted by Clara; and on the second day after the trial they proceeded up to the Penn. Clara and Francisco were introduced, and apartments and suitable attendance provided for the former.
'Templemore,' said the admiral, 'I'm afraid I must send you away to Porto Rico, to assure the governor of his daughter's safety.'
'I would rather you would send some one else, sir, and I'll assure her happiness in the meantime.'
'What! by marrying her? Humph! you've a good opinion of yourself! Wait till you're a captain, sir.'
'I hope I shall not have to wait long, sir,' replied Edward demurely.
'Captain Templemore, I wish you joy!'
'By the bye,' said the admiral, 'did you not say you have notice of treasure concealed in those islands?'
'My brother has: I have not.'
'We must send for it. I think we must send you, Edward. Mr. Francisco, you must go with him.'
'With pleasure, sir,' replied Francisco, laughing; 'but I think I'd rather wait till Edward is a captain! His wife and his fortune ought to come together. I think I shall not deliver up my papers until the day of his marriage!'
'Upon my word,' said Captain Manly, 'I wish, Templemore, you had your commission, for there seems so much depending on it—the young lady's happiness, my share of the prize-money, and the admiral's eighth. Really, admiral, it becomes a common cause; and I'm sure he deserves it!'
'So do I, Manly,' replied the admiral; 'and to prove that I have thought so, here comes Mr. Hadley with it in his hand: it only wants one little thing to complete it——'
'Which is your signature, admiral, I presume,' replied Captain Manly, taking a pen full of ink, and presenting it to his senior officer.
'Exactly,' replied the admiral, scribbling at the bottom of the paper; 'and now—it does not want that. Captain Templemore, I wish you joy!'
Edward made a very low obeisance, as his flushed countenance indicated his satisfaction.
'I cannot give commissions, admiral,' said Francisco, presenting a paper in return; 'but I can give information—and you will find it not unimportant—for the treasure appears of great value.'
'God bless my soul! Manly, you must start at daylight!' exclaimed the admiral; 'why, there is enough to load your sloop! There!—read it!—and then I will write your orders, and enclose a copy of it, for fear of accident.'
'That was to have been my fortune,' said Francisco, with a grave smile; 'but I would not touch it.'
'Very right, boy!—a fine principle! But we are not quite so particular,' said the admiral. 'Now, where's the young lady? Let her know that dinner's on the table.'
A fortnight after this conversation, Captain Manly returned with the treasure; and theEnterprise, commanded by another officer, returned from Porto Rico, with a letter from thegovernor in reply to one from the admiral, in which the rescue of his daughter by Edward had been communicated. The letter was full of thanks to the admiral, and compliments to Edward; and, what was of more importance, it sanctioned the union of the young officer with his daughter, with a dozen boxes of gold doubloons.
About six weeks after the above-mentioned important conversation, Mr. Witherington, who had been reading a voluminous packet of letters in his breakfast-room in Finsbury Square, pulled his bell so violently that old Jonathan thought his master must be out of his senses. This, however, did not induce him to accelerate his solemn and measured pace; and he made his appearance at the door, as usual, without speaking.
'Why don't that fellow answer the bell?' cried Mr. Witherington.
'I am here, sir,' said Jonathan solemnly.
'Well, so you are! but, confound you! you come like the ghost of a butler! But who do you think is coming here, Jonathan?'
'I cannot tell, sir.'
'But I can!—you solemn old——Edward's coming here!—coming home directly!'
'Is he to sleep in his old room, sir?' replied the imperturbable butler.
'No; the best bedroom! Why, Jonathan, he is married—he is made a captain—Captain Templemore!'
'Yes—sir.'
'And he has found his brother, Jonathan; his twin-brother!'
'Yes—sir.'
'His brother Francis—that was supposed to be lost! But it's a long story, Jonathan!—and a very wonderful one!—his poor mother has long been dead!'
'In cœ lo quies!' said Jonathan, casting up his eyes.
'But his brother has turned up again.'
'Resurgam!' said the butler.
'They will be here in ten days—so let everything be in readiness, Jonathan. God bless my soul!' continued the old gentleman, 'I hardly know what I'm about. It's a Spanish girl, Jonathan!'
'Resurgam!' said the butler.
'What is, sir?'
'What is, sir!—why, Captain Templemore's wife; and he was tried as a pirate!'
'Who, sir?'
'Who, sir? why, Francis, his brother! Jonathan, you're a stupid old fellow!'
'Have you any further commands, sir?'
'No—no!—there—that'll do—go away.'
And in three weeks after this conversation, Captain and Mrs. Templemore, and his brother Frank, were established in the house, to the great delight of Mr. Witherington; for he had long been tired of solitude and old Jonathan.
The twin-brothers were a comfort to him in his old age: they closed his eyes in peace—they divided his blessing and his large fortune—and thus ends our history ofThe Pirate!
Reader, have you ever been at Plymouth? If you have, your eye must have dwelt with ecstasy upon the beautiful property of the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe: if you have not been at Plymouth, the sooner that you go there the better. At Mount Edgcumbe you will behold the finest timber in existence, towering up to the summits of the hills, and feathering down to the shingle on the beach. And from this lovely spot you will witness one of the most splendid panoramas in the world. You will see—I hardly know what you will not see—you will see Ram Head, and Cawsand Bay; and then you will see the Breakwater, and Drake's Island, and the Devil's Bridge below you; and the town of Plymouth and its fortifications, and the Hoe; and then you will come to the Devil's Point, round which the tide runs devilish strong; and then you will see the New Victualling Office—about which Sir James Gordon used to stump all day, and take a pinch of snuff from every man who carried a box, which all were delighted to give, and he was delighted to receive, proving how much pleasure may be communicated merely by a pinch of snuff; and then you will see Mount Wise and Mutton Cove; the town of Devonport, with its magnificent dockyard and arsenals, North Corner, and the way which leads to Saltash. And you will see ships building and ships in ordinary; and ships repairing and ships fitting; and hulks and convict ships, and the guardship; ships ready to sail and ships under sail; besides lighters, men-of-war's boats, dockyard-boats, bumboats, and shore-boats. In short, there is a great deal to see at Plymouth besides the sea itself: but what I particularly wishnow is, that you will stand at the Battery of Mount Edgcumbe and look into Barn Pool below you, and there you will see, lying at single anchor, a cutter; and you may also see, by her pendant and ensign, that she is a yacht.
Of all the amusements entered into by the nobility and gentry of our island there is not one so manly, so exciting, so patriotic, or so national as yacht-sailing. It is peculiar to England, not only from our insular position and our fine harbours, but because it requires a certain degree of energy and a certain amount of income rarely to be found elsewhere. It has been wisely fostered by our sovereigns, who have felt that the security of the kingdom is increased by every man being more or less a sailor, or connected with the nautical profession. It is an amusement of the greatest importance to the country, as it has much improved our ship-building and our ship-fitting, while it affords employment to our seamen and shipwrights. But if I were to say all that I could say in praise of yachts, I should never advance with my narrative. I shall therefore drink a bumper to the health of Admiral Lord Yarborough and the Yacht Club, and proceed.
You observe that this yacht is cutter-rigged, and that she sits gracefully on the smooth water. She is just heaving up her anchor; her foresail is loose, all ready to cast her—in a few minutes she will be under way. You see that there are ladies sitting at the taffrail; and there are five haunches of venison hanging over the stern. Of all amusements, give me yachting. But we must go on board. The deck, you observe, is of narrow deal planks as white as snow; the guns are of polished brass; the bitts and binnacles of mahogany; she is painted with taste; and all the mouldings are gilded. There is nothing wanting; and yet how clear and unencumbered are her decks! Let us go below. This is the ladies' cabin: can anything be more tasteful or elegant? is it not luxurious? and, although so small, does not its very confined space astonish you, when you view so many comforts so beautifully arranged? This is the dining-room, and where the gentlemen repair. What can be more complete orrecherché? And just peep into their state-rooms and bed-places. Here is the steward's room and the beaufet: the steward is squeezing lemons for the punch, and there is the champagne in ice; and by the side of the pail the long corks are ranged up, all ready.Now, let us go forwards: here are the men's berths, not confined as in a man-of-war. No; luxury starts from abaft, and is not wholly lost even at the fore-peak. This is the kitchen: is it not admirably arranged? What amultum in parvo! And how delightful are the fumes of the turtle-soup! At sea we do meet with rough weather at times; but, for roughing it out, give me ayacht. Now that I have shown you round the vessel, I must introduce the parties on board.
You observe that florid, handsome man, in white trousers and blue jacket, who has a telescope in one hand, and is sipping a glass of brandy and water which he has just taken off the skylight. That is the owner of the vessel, and a member of the Yacht Club. It is Lord B——: he looks like a sailor, and he does not much belie his looks; yet I have seen him in his robes of state at the opening of the House of Lords. The one near to him is Mr. Stewart, a lieutenant in the navy. He holds on by the rigging with one hand, because, having been actively employed all his life, he does not know what to do with hands which have nothing in them. He is aprotégéof Lord B., and is now on board as sailing-master of the yacht.
That handsome, well-built man, who is standing by the binnacle, is a Mr. Hautaine. He served six years as midshipman in the navy, and did not like it. He then served six years in a cavalry regiment, and did not like it. He then married, and in a much shorter probation found that he did not like that. But he is very fond of yachts and other men's wives, if he does not like his own; and wherever he goes, he is welcome.
That young man with an embroidered silk waistcoat and white gloves, bending to talk to one of the ladies, is a Mr. Vaughan. He is to be seen at Almack's, at Crockford's, and everywhere else. Everybody knows him, and he knows everybody. He is a little in debt, and yachting is convenient.
The ladies.
The one who sits by the lady is a relation of Lord B.; you see at once what he is. He apes the sailor; he has not shaved, because sailors have no time to shave every day; he has not changed his linen, because sailors cannot change every day. He has a cigar in his mouth, which makes him half sick and annoys his company. He talks of the pleasure of a rough sea, which will drive all the ladies below—andthen they will not perceive that he is more sick than themselves. He has the misfortune to be born to a large estate, and to be afool. His name is Ossulton.
The last of the gentlemen on board whom I have to introduce is Mr. Seagrove. He is slightly made, with marked features full of intelligence. He has been brought up to the bar; and has every qualification but application. He has never had a brief, nor has he a chance of one. He is the fiddler of the company, and he has locked up his chambers and come, by invitation of his lordship, to play on board of his yacht.
I have yet to describe the ladies—perhaps I should have commenced with them—I must excuse myself upon the principle of reserving the best to the last. All puppet-showmen do so; and what is this but the first scene in my puppet-show?
We will describe them according to seniority. That tall, thin, cross-looking lady of forty-five is a spinster, and sister to Lord B. She had been persuaded, very much against her will, to come on board; but her notions of propriety would not permit her niece to embark under the protection ofonlyher father. She is frightened at everything: if a rope is thrown down on the deck, up she starts, and cries 'Oh!' if on the deck, she thinks the water is rushing in below; if down below, and there is a noise, she is convinced there is danger; and if it be perfectly still, she is sure there is something wrong. She fidgets herself and everybody, and is quite a nuisance with her pride and ill-humour; but she has strict notions of propriety, and sacrifices herself as a martyr. She is the Hon. Miss Ossulton.
The lady who, when she smiles, shows so many dimples in her pretty oval face, is a young widow, of the name of Lascelles. She married an old man to please her father and mother, which was very dutiful on her part. She was rewarded by finding herself a widow with a large fortune. Having married the first time to please her parents, she intends now to marry to please herself; but she is very young, and is in no hurry.
The Hon. Miss Cecilia Ossulton.
That young lady with such a sweet expression of countenance is the Hon. Miss Cecilia Ossulton. She is lively, witty, and has no fear in her composition; but she is very young yet, notmore than seventeen—and nobody knows what she really is—she does not know herself. These are the parties who meet in the cabin of the yacht. The crew consists of ten fine seamen, the steward and the cook. There is also Lord B.'s valet, Mr. Ossulton's gentleman, and the lady's-maid of Miss Ossulton. There not being accommodation for them, the other servants have been left on shore.
The yacht is now under way, and her sails are all set. She is running between Drake's Island and the main. Dinner has been announced. As the reader has learnt something about the preparations, I leave him to judge whether it be not very pleasant to sit down to dinner in a yacht. The air has given everybody an appetite; and it was not until the cloth was removed that the conversation became general.
'Mr. Seagrove,' said his lordship, 'you very nearly lost your passage; I expected you last Thursday.'
'I am sorry, my lord, that business prevented my sooner attending to your lordship's kind summons.'
'Come, Seagrove, don't be nonsensical,' said Hautaine; 'you told me yourself, the other evening, when you were talkative, that you had never had a brief in your life.'
'And a very fortunate circumstance,' replied Seagrove; 'for if I had had a brief I should not have known what to have done with it. It is not my fault; I am fit for nothing but a commissioner. But still I had business, and very important business, too. I was summoned by Ponsonby to go with him to Tattersall's, to give my opinion about a horse he wishes to purchase, and then to attend him to Forest Wild to plead his cause with his uncle.'
'It appears, then, that you were retained,' replied Lord B.; 'may I ask you whether your friend gained his cause?'
'No, my lord, he lost his cause, but he gained a suit.'
'Expound your riddle, sir,' said Cecilia Ossulton.
'The fact is, that old Ponsonby is very anxious that William should marry Miss Percival, whose estates join on to Forest Wild. Now, my friend William is about as fond of marriage as I am of law, and thereby issue was joined.'
'But why were you to be called in?' inquired Mrs. Lascelles.
'Because, madam, as Ponsonby never buys a horse without consulting me——'
'I cannot see the analogy, sir,' observed Miss Ossulton, senior, bridling up.
'Pardon me, madam: the fact is,' continued Seagrove, 'that, as I always have to back Ponsonby's horses, he thought it right that, in this instance, I should back him: he required special pleading, but his uncle tried him for the capital offence, and he was not allowed counsel. As soon as we arrived, and I had bowed myself into the room, Mr. Ponsonby bowed me out again—which would have been infinitely more jarring to my feelings, had not the door been left ajar.'
'Do anything but pun, Seagrove,' interrupted Hautaine.
'Well then, I will take a glass of wine.'
'Do so,' said his lordship; 'but recollect the whole company are impatient for your story.'
'I can assure you, my lord, that it was equal to any scene in a comedy.'
Now be it observed that Mr. Seagrove had a great deal of comic talent; he was an excellent mimic, and could alter his voice almost as he pleased. It was a custom of his to act a scene as between other people, and he performed it remarkably well. Whenever he said that anything he was going to narrate was 'as good as a comedy,' it was generally understood by those who were acquainted with him that he was to be asked so to do. Cecilia Ossulton therefore immediately said, 'Pray act it, Mr. Seagrove.'
Upon which, Mr. Seagrove—premising that he had not only heard but also seen all that passed—changing his voice, and suiting the action to the word, commenced.
'It may,' said he, 'be called
"Five Thousand Acres in a Ring-fence"'
We shall not describe Mr. Seagrove's motions; they must be inferred from his words.
'"It will then, William," observed Mr. Ponsonby, stopping, and turning to his nephew, after a rapid walk up and down the room with his hands behind him under his coat, so as to allow the tails to drop their perpendicular about three inches clear of his body, "I may say, without contradiction, be the finest property in the county—five thousand acres in a ring-fence."
'"I daresay it will, uncle," replied William, tapping hisfoot, as he lounged in a green morocco easy-chair; "and so, because you have set your fancy upon having these two estates enclosed together in a ring-fence, you wish that I should be also enclosed in aring-fence."
'"And a beautiful property it will be," replied Mr. Ponsonby.
'"Which, uncle? the estate or the wife?"
'"Both, nephew, both; and I expect your consent."
'"Uncle, I am not avaricious. Your present property is sufficient for me. With your permission, instead of doubling the property, and doubling myself, I will remain your sole heir and single."
'"Observe, William, such an opportunity may not occur again for centuries. We shall restore Forest Wild to its ancient boundaries. You know it has been divided nearly two hundred years. We now have a glorious, golden opportunity of reuniting the two properties; and when joined, the estate will be exactly what it was when granted to our ancestors by Henry VIII., at the period of the Reformation. This house must be pulled down, and the monastery left standing. Then we shall have our own again, and the property without encumbrance."
'"Without encumbrance, uncle! You forget that there will be a wife."
'"And you forget that there will be five thousand acres in a ring-fence."
'"Indeed, uncle, you ring it too often in my ears that I should forget it. But, much as I should like to be the happy possessor of such a property, I do not feel inclined to be the happy possessor of Miss Percival; and the more so, as I have never seen the property."
'"We will ride over it to-morrow, William."
'"Ride over Miss Percival, uncle! That will not be very gallant. I will, however, one of these days ride over the property with you, which, as well as Miss Percival, I have not as yet seen."
'"Then I can tell you she is a very pretty property."
'"If she were not in a ring-fence."
'"In good heart, William. That is, I mean an excellent disposition."
'"Valuable in matrimony."
'"And well tilled—I should say well educated—by her three maiden aunts, who are the patterns of propriety."
'"Does any one follow the fashion?"
"In a high state of cultivation; that is, her mind highly cultivated, and according to the last new system—what is it?"
'"A four-course shift, I presume," replied William, laughing; "that is, dancing, singing, music, and drawing."
'"And only seventeen! Capital soil, promising good crops. What would you have more?"
"A very pretty estate, uncle, if it were not the estate of matrimony. I am sorry, very sorry, to disappoint you; but I must decline taking a lease of it for life."
'"Then, sir, allow me to hint to you that in my testament you are only a tenant-at-will. I consider it a duty that I owe to the family that the estate should be re-united. That can only be done by one of our family marrying Miss Percival; and as you will not, I shall now write to your cousin James, and if he accept my proposal, shall makehimmy heir. Probably he will more fully appreciate the advantages of five thousand acres in a ring-fence."
'And Mr. Ponsonby directed his steps towards the door.
'"Stop, my dear uncle," cried William, rising up from his easy-chair; "we do not quite understand one another. It is very true that I would prefer half the property and remaining single, to the two estates and the estate of marriage; but at the same time I did not tell you that I would prefer beggary to a wife and five thousand acres in a ring-fence. I know you to be a man of your word. I accept your proposal, and you need not put my cousin James to the expense of postage."
'"Very good, William; I require no more: and as I know you to be a man of your word, I shall consider this match as settled. It was on this account only that I sent for you, and now you may go back again as soon as you please. I will let you know when all is ready."
"I must be at Tattersall's on Monday, uncle; there is a horse I must have for next season. Pray, uncle, may I ask when you are likely to want me?"
'"Let me see—this is May—about July, I should think."
"July, uncle! Spare me—I cannot marry in the dog-days. No, hang it! not July."
'"Well, William, perhaps, as you must come down onceor twice to see the property—Miss Percival, I should say—it may be too soon—suppose we put it off till October?"
'"October—I shall be down at Melton."
'"Pray, sir, may I then inquire what portion of the year is not, with you,dog-days?"
'"Why, uncle, next April, now—I think that would do."
'"Next April! Eleven months, and a winter between. Suppose Miss Percival was to take a cold and die."
'"I should be excessively obliged to her," thought William.
'"No, no!" continued Mr. Ponsonby: "there is nothing certain in this world, William."
'"Well then, uncle, suppose we arrange it for the firsthard frost."
'"We have had no hard frosts lately, William. We may wait for years. The sooner it is over the better. Go back to town, buy your horse, and then come down here, my dear William, to oblige your uncle—never mind the dog-days."
'"Well, sir, if I am to make a sacrifice, it shall not be done by halves; out of respect for you I will even marry in July, without any regard to the thermometer."
'"You are a good boy, William. Do you want a cheque?"
'"I have had one to-day," thought William, and was almost at fault. "I shall be most thankful, sir—they sell horseflesh by the ounce nowadays."
'"And you pay in pounds. There, William."
'"Thank you, sir, I'm all obedience; and I'll keep my word, even if there should be a comet. I'll go and buy the horse, and then I shall be ready to take the ring-fence as soon as you please."
'"Yes, and you'll get over it cleverly, I've no doubt. Five thousand acres, William, and—a pretty wife!"
'"Have you any further commands, uncle?" said William, depositing the cheque in his pocket-book.
'"None, my dear boy; are you going?"
'"Yes, sir; I dine at the Clarendon."
'"Well, then, good-bye. Make my compliments and excuses to your friend Seagrove. You will come on Tuesday or Wednesday."
'Thus was concluded the marriage between William Ponsonby and Emily Percival, and the junction of the twoestates, which formed together the great desideratum—five thousand acres in a ring-fence.'
Mr. Seagrove finished, and he looked round for approbation.
'Very good indeed, Seagrove,' said his lordship; 'you must take a glass of wine after that.'
'I would not give much for Miss Percival's chance of happiness,' observed the elder Miss Ossulton.
'Of two evils choose the least, they say,' observed Mr. Hautaine. 'Poor Ponsonby could not help himself.'
'That's a very polite observation of yours, Mr. Hautaine—I thank you in the name of the sex,' replied Cecilia Ossulton.
'Nay, Miss Ossulton; would you like to marry a person whom you never saw?'
'Most certainly not; but when you mentioned the two evils, Mr. Hautaine, I appeal to your honour, did you not refer to marriage or beggary?'
'I must confess it, Miss Ossulton; but it is hardly fair to call on my honour to get me into a scrape.'
'I only wish that the offer had been made to me,' observed Vaughan; 'I should not have hesitated as Ponsonby did.'
'Then I beg you will not think of proposing for me,' said Mrs. Lascelles, laughing; for Mr. Vaughan had been excessively attentive.
'It appears to me, Vaughan,' observed Seagrove, 'that you have slightly committed yourself by that remark.'
Vaughan, who thought so too, replied, 'Mrs. Lascelles must be aware that I was only joking.'
'Fie! Mr. Vaughan,' cried Cecilia Ossulton; 'you know it came from your heart.'
'My dear Cecilia,' said the elder Miss Ossulton, 'you forget yourself—what can you possibly know about gentlemen's hearts?'
'The Bible says that they are "deceitful and desperately wicked," aunt.'
'And cannot we also quote the Bible against your sex, Miss Ossulton?' replied Seagrove.
'Yes, you could, perhaps, if any of you had ever read it,' replied Miss Ossulton carelessly.