FOOTNOTE:[1]Paul Jones did possess this list, and he never revealed the source of his information, which was supposed to be some one high in authority at the Admiralty.
[1]Paul Jones did possess this list, and he never revealed the source of his information, which was supposed to be some one high in authority at the Admiralty.
[1]Paul Jones did possess this list, and he never revealed the source of his information, which was supposed to be some one high in authority at the Admiralty.
The next morning, the 29th of August, 1782, broke clear, bright, and beautiful. A magnificent fleet lay out in the roads, and, towering among them, Archy recognized theRoyal George, with her three great decks, her huge, broad-beamed hull, and her lofty masts. No one who ever sailed on this ship but liked her. She had a record of good fortune which made her a favorite with both officers and men. Her quarters were comfortable, and she was commonly thought to be a weatherly ship, although the terrible fate which was impending over her on that August morning made it a miracle that she had survived so long, for at that time she was the oldest ship of the line in the British service.
Afloat and ashore, all was the orderly bustle and despatch of getting a fleet of more than thirty ships ready for sea in short order. Every moment was precious, but Archy saw for himself that much remained to be done, and itwould be many days yet before the ships could be made ready to leave.
About ten o'clock in the morning he hired a small boat and put out to theRoyal George. As he neared her, he saw her great hull slowly and almost imperceptibly careen on the starboard side, by which he was approaching her, and, presently, a gang of men in slings were let down over her port side. Archy knew very well what that meant. Something was to be done to her hull below the water-line, and as the day was perfectly still, without a breath to ruffle the dead calm of the water, the ship had been heeled over to save time, instead of the more tedious process of being put in dry-dock to have the work done. Soon the sound of ripping planks off and the noise of hammers and chisels echoed over the water. A swarm of little boats were gathered around the monster, and her decks were alive with people. Forward was a crowd of women and children, families of the men, who were allowed on board for an hour or two, as all work was suspended while the ship was being heeled over.
The ladder was over the starboard side, and as Archy, on reaching the ship, ran lightly up it he felt a strange joy at again touching the deckof a ship; and, with the joyful expectation of youth, he fancied that in a little while the American navy would possess a whole fleet of noble ships like those he saw around him.
As he stepped over the side the officer of the deck was standing close by, and, on Archy's explaining that he knew Admiral Kempenfelt and had a letter for him, the lieutenant called the Admiral's orderly, and in a few moments Archy was shown into the great cabin.
"Ah, my young friend, happy to see you!" cried Admiral Kempenfelt, rising from his table, where he was writing, and shaking Archy's hand cordially. "So it seems, from Lord Bellingham's letter, which I have glanced over, that you have had some adventures since I saw you last."
"Yes, sir," replied Archy, smiling, and returning the Admiral's kindly grasp. "But not the sort I want. TheSeahorse'speople seem to have ended my fighting career when they picked me up at the Texel nearly three years ago, and now that our countries are on the verge of peace, it looks as if I would never have another chance to do a little whacking on my own account."
"Ah, that's the way with you youngsters; nothing but whack—whacking all the time. Wait until you get my age and you will lovepeace, as I do. I am heartily glad, though, that this quarrel with our late colonies is over. Not one-tenth of our people have been in favor of the war for two years past, and both sides have done enough now to come to an honorable peace. I have heard something of you since you have been in England this time. So you won't turn Englishman for Bellingham and all it carries with it?"
"No, sir. Would you turn Frenchman for Versailles and St. Cloud, and the Louvre thrown in?"
"No, hanged if I would!"
Archy bowed and slapped himself on the breast, saying:
"I perceive I am in good company, sir."
"Well, now, Mr. Baskerville, let us see about getting you to Gibraltar before we get there. A vessel—theFox—is now waiting for a wind to carry some French officers across, to be exchanged off Ushant. You could go very well in her, and, once in France, you can take care of yourself. I apprehend no difficulty in your communicating with your cousin. The Duc de Crillon is well known to be most courteous in conveying letters to the garrison, and even sent some delicacies to General Eliot, who was forcedto decline them, and there is actually much polite communication between the two commanders-in-chief. I will myself give you letters to the Admiral, and to Captain Wilbur, of theFox, which, I am sure, will secure you a berth in her."
Admiral Kempenfelt took up a pen and began writing rapidly; but the cabin floor, which had been at an angle, was tilted still more, and his chair slid down, while Archy caught the table as it was slipping after the chair.
"Deuced inconvenient, this heeling of the ship; but it saves time, and time is everything to our brave fellows at Gibraltar," and the Admiral calmly resumed his writing. But Archy was not so calm. He looked out of the cabin windows on the starboard side, and the nearness of the rippling water gave him a kind of shock. He tried to calculate the angle of the floor, which perceptibly became more acute, and a sudden apprehension flashed over him that the ship was over too far to one side—but he dared not speak.
Meanwhile the Admiral went on calmly writing, threw sand on the two letters he had written, and after reading them over handed them to Archy.
"There," he said, "I hope these will serve your turn. It gives me pleasure to do you akindness, even if you are an enemy," and he placed his hand affectionately on Archy's shoulder. "May we meet again under happier circumstances: in peace, all our quarrels forgot, and nothing but good-will between us all—amen."
Something in the Admiral's kind voice, the grasp of his manly hand, touched Archy's heart. The feeling of instant and dreadful apprehension had grown upon him in the few minutes that the Admiral continued writing. Every moment he hoped that the ship would be righted; instead of that, the floor became a more sharply inclined plane. Against her stout wooden walls he could hear the ringing of the carpenters' blows, and it sounded like a knell of death to him. He looked closely into Admiral Kempenfelt's eyes to see if there was any premonition of danger; but the Admiral seemed strangely unconscious of what so powerfully affected Archy, and although barely able to keep his feet on rising, gave no sign of fear that the ship might go over.
Archy longed to ask the Admiral to go on deck with him, and even faltered out:
"Will you not come above, sir?"
"No," replied the Admiral, surprised at the suggestion. "I have work to do. Rememberme to my friends at Gibraltar. Good-bye, and all good go with you."
"If we do not meet again, Admiral," said Archy, in a voice which trembled a little, and then, all at once, the words he had meant to utter left him, and an overmastering impulse made him turn and walk out of the cabin as quickly as he could.
Outside the door the orderly had braced himself against one of the quarter-deck guns. Something in the man's face arrested Archy's attention at that instant. There were strange noises about the ship, a dull reverberation like thunder, followed by a slight crash, and the men were running to and fro.
"What is the matter?" asked Archy of the man.
"Nothing, sir, except that the ship is heeled over too far; the guns have broken loose, and I believe in five minutes we shall all be under eighteen fathom of water," coolly replied the orderly.
The appearance of the deck was far from reassuring. As Archy took off his cap in passing the officer in charge of the deck he observed the carpenter say a few words in a low tone to the officer, whose reply was perfectly audible.
"If you know more about this ship, sir, than I do, you had better take the deck."
Archy ran to the ladder. The platform was far under water, and on looking for his boat he saw the boatman about twenty yards off, pulling away for his life.
"Come here!" shouted Archy.
The man simply shook his head, pulled a little farther out, and then lay on his oars. Archy put his hand in his pocket and held up his purse. At that the boatman quickly picked up his oars, and, rowing as if his life depended on it, in a few minutes was alongside.
Archy's conduct had not escaped observation. Several officers were walking about the deck, and, although they said nothing, their faces were grave enough as they leaned over the rail and watched the boat, into which Archy sprang while it was yet several feet away from the half-submerged ladder.
"It wasn't the money for myself, sir, that brought me back," gasped the boatman, as with tremendous strokes the boat shot away from the leaning hull of the ship; "but it was worth while to try for my wife and family. That there ship is in the most dangersome way I ever see a ship. One puff of wind now will send her over."
"Lay on your oars," said Archy, watching with painful interest the mighty hull on which the hammering and pounding sounded preternaturally loud.
The perilous position of the ship was plain to the whole fleet, and every eye was turned towards her. On several of the ships near her the order was quietly given to stand by to lower the boats. In the stillness of the August morning every sound could be heard, and on board theRoyal Georgewas much noise. The women and children forward were laughing and chattering with the sailors, and every moment a burst of loud laughter showed that the men were enjoying their little holiday time. The noise of the workmen striking the hull was incessant, but above all there would come the frequent ominous sound of a gun that would break loose from its fastenings and roll down the inclined plane to starboard. The officer of the deck continued to walk up and down in what seemed to every eye that watched him an almost insane ignorance of the danger of the ship. The boatman turned to Archy and said:
"I see the carpenter go up to him once afore, but he didn't take no heed. I dare say the carpenter won't ax him no more."
However, at this moment the officer turned and disappeared below.
Thousands of eyes were fixed upon theRoyal Georgein agonizing apprehension. Archy, in uncontrollable agitation, cried aloud:
"Why don't they haul the guns back? The ports are all open, and if she heels a foot more she is gone. Oh, God!"
For theRoyal Georgewas slowly, inch by inch, heeling over more; and at the same instant, afar off, the bright water grew dark with an advancing wind—the wind of death—which stole towards the great ship softly and silently.
Suddenly the people on board the doomed ship seemed to realize their peril. The officer of the deck reappeared and ran quickly aft. The crowd forward stopped its shouting and singing and laughing; the sharp blare of the boatswain's pipe was heard, calling all hands on deck—but it was too late. The towering hull gave one lurch as the wind struck it, the awful shriek of a thousand voices smote the air, and in another moment, with a roar that was heard for miles, theRoyal Georgewent down, head foremost, in a black vortex of her own making.
For a few minutes Archy was dazed and paralyzed with the horror of the sight. He sawthe black and seething whirlpool made by the monster, with her hundred and twenty guns, her giant masts and spars, her huge anchors and cables, for one horrible moment upon the blue and sunlit water. He heard the roar of the rushing air through her ports, the thunder of guns and anchors breaking through the decks, and a frightful crashing, as if every mast and spar and deck in the ship had been splintered at once; and, worst of all, one wild shriek from twelve hundred souls, swallowed up with her; and never, to his dying hour, could Archy Baskerville forget that cry—a cry that haunted forever, night and day, all who heard it. It was only when it had ceased, when instead of the stately ship he saw a seething mass of waters where she lay a minute before, and where now a few human beings were tossed like leaves upon the water—it was only then that he came a little to his senses, and shouted to the boatman:
"Give me an oar, and pull—pull!"
In a little while they were among the floating bodies. The few minutes had somewhat sobered Archy. He still felt as if he were in some terrible dream, but almost without his own volition he began to act rationally. He threw down his oar, and, leaving the management of the boatto the boatman, stripped off his jacket, trousers, and shoes, and, plunging into the water, swam vigorously towards the first man he saw. As he got near enough he recognized the orderly who had been on duty at the Admiral's door. The man could not swim; but, although almost sinking in his heavy clothes, quietly obeyed Archy, who called to him:
"Don't catch me around the neck—put your hand on my shoulder."
He would have been hard to save, as his clothes were heavy with water, but the boat came alongside at that moment and he was hauled in. Archy cried to him:
"The Admiral?"
"Gone," briefly answered the marine. "He never left the cabin."
Every ship in the fleet sent boats, and in half an hour all of the survivors were picked up, and then came a terrible reaction. The flags were half-masted, the booming of minute-guns over the water was heard, and the people on the ships and crowds that ran to the shore gave way to paroxysms of grief and horror. Even those who had lost no friend or relative, and they were few, were overcome with the dreadful shock of the disaster.
Archy Baskerville's nerve lasted him until, with the boatman's help, he had handed the orderly and three other men they had saved over to the large cutter which was collecting the survivors from the small boats, and then he gave way to a perfectly hysterical burst of grief. Within an hour from the time that he had shown the utmost coolness and courage in saving life, he could only throw himself down in the boat and weep and sob like a nervous woman over the horrors he had seen. The boatman, his stolid face ashy pale, sat trembling, and presently said, in a thick voice, to Archy:
"'Tis lucky, sir, that both of us wasn't took this way when there was something to do. I swear to you, sir, my arms is so weak I can hardly pull the boat ashore, and I know my wife is near wild with fright, and—and—I don't seem to feel that, nor nothin', sir."
"Pull me to theFox, and then you can go ashore and fetch my portmanteau," said Archy. All he wanted then was to get away from that dreadful spot.
TheFox, a small gun-brig, was then getting up her anchor, as the wind was increasing, for which she had waited, and her orders admitted of no delay.
As Archy came over the side of the brig, the men, with white, set faces, were walking around the capstan in silence, the creaking sound painfully audible. The officers, mute, and, as Archy could see, many of them as shaken as he, were standing about the deck, and as Archy handed Captain Wilbur—a stern, weather-beaten man—Admiral Kempenfelt's letter, on which the ink was scarcely dry, he tried to speak, but he could only say, "Admiral Kempenfelt," and burst into tears.
Captain Wilbur lifted his cap as he took the letter, and then turned aside, to conceal his agitation. Presently he spoke in a low voice:
"Everything shall be attended to at once. I will send Admiral Kempenfelt's letter to the flag-ship immediately, and we will not be detained more than an hour. Would that we had sailed before we saw that awful sight!"
The afternoon sun was declining when theFoxpassed out to sea. Archy looked resolutely seaward—he could not bear to turn his eyes towards the dreadful spot where theRoyal Georgehad gone down.
At eight bells, after relieving the watch, Captain Wilbur called all hands on deck, and, having no chaplain, he himself held a simplereligious service, in which all, both officers and men, joined fervently. Captain Wilbur, although a dashing officer, was a stern man, a rigid moralist, and counted as puritanical—but all hearts were subdued by the terrible calamity they had just witnessed. Archy felt that he had special cause for gratitude, and he gave thanks with a greater devoutness of spirit than he had felt since the hour that Commodore Jones—a man of deep though unobtrusive piety—had exhorted him to thank God for the glorious success of their country.
They had sailed on the 29th of August, and by extraordinary good-fortune found themselves off Ushant within thirty-six hours. There, waiting for them, was the French frigateAlceste, with the English officers to be exchanged for the French. To Archy's delight and surprise he found that as soon as the French officers were landed at Ushant theAlcestewas to take aboard the Comte d'Artois, the King's brother, and the Duc de Bourbon, who were determined to see the last act in the tragedy and to sail for Gibraltar.
The gallant French officers expressed the utmost sympathy for the terrible disaster suffered by the British navy, and especially at the lossof Admiral Kempenfelt, who was admired and respected even by his enemies. The Admiral's letter—the last he had ever penned—was recommendation enough to Archy, even without his prestige as having served under Paul Jones. He was at once offered a berth on theAlceste, which he gladly accepted, and on the 12th day of September he came in sight, for the third time, of the Rock of the Lion.
So celebrated had this siege become that persons from all parts of Europe came, as the Comte d'Artois and the Duc de Bourbon, to see the last mortal struggle between Spain and England for this mighty fortress. On that September day when they cast anchor in the harbor of Algeciras, the shore, as far as the eye could reach, was an armed camp. The gigantic fortifications, armed with hundreds of the heaviest siege guns, were manned by forty thousand men. Fifty French and Spanish battle-ships, nine of which wore admiral's flags, were drawn up in menacing array, and beside them were a hundred gunboats, mortar vessels and bomb-ketches, ten enormous floating batteries, and three hundred smaller boats, to land men when a practicable breach in the defences should be made.
From these enormous forces of attack, Archyturned his eyes on the great fortress. The golden light of morning bathed the summit of the Rock in fire, and the ensign of St. George floated proudly above it. There were not six thousand men, and less than a hundred guns, to oppose the tremendous bombardment of the Spaniards and French; but these were the seasoned sailors, soldiers, and marines who had held out stubbornly against death and defeat in every form for more than three years.
Precisely at seven o'clock in the morning a signal-gun boomed over the water, and then began the unparalleled assault, which made all that had gone before it mere child's-play.
On that September morning, as the sun rose in unclouded glory, every man of the heroic garrison of Gibraltar was at his post; every soldier and sailor in the tremendous array of ships and batteries meant to annihilate the fortress was ready for the assault; and uncounted thousands of persons, both on sea and land, watched and waited to see this terrible and unmatched bombardment.
At seven o'clock three hundred heavy guns on the land side opened fire upon the Rock. Fifty ships of the line and the ten great floating batteries, protected by bomb-proof shields, moved up to within a thousand yards and poured their broadsides upon the fortress.
The garrison had less than a hundred guns to reply with, but these were served with a steadiness and vigor that made them doubly effective. From these guns were thrown red-hot shot, which were frightfully destructive to the ships, but rolled harmlessly off the shields of the formidablefloating batteries into the water, from which clouds of steam arose to mingle with the dense smoke that made the fair day dark. The thunder of the guns was indescribable. The solid Rock itself seemed to roar and tremble as it replied to the hurricane of shot and shell that rained upon it. The huge ships fired broadside after broadside, while from the isthmus the batteries were worked by ten thousand men. Soon, all below the summit of the Rock became as black as midnight with the smoke, and it was lighted by the red flames from the guns and the explosion of magazines on land and sea. But high above all, serene in the light of morning, floated the proud standard of England. As Archy Baskerville, from theAlceste'sdeck, watched the terrible and imposing sight of war in all its majesty, he felt a thrill of pride that those six thousand indomitable men were of the same blood as himself.
All day this hell of fire and fury lasted, and as night came on its horrors were increased by the ships and floating batteries catching fire. By that time the fortress had proved its impregnable nature, and the superiority of its cannonade became manifest. One after another of the ships caught fire from the red-hot shot, and by midnight, in spite of the utmost efforts, thePastora,Admiral Moreno's flagship, was seen to be blazing from stem to stern. Other of the smaller vessels were in flames, and as the day had been made dark by the smoke, so now the blaze lighted up the whole bay with a frightful glare that was reflected in the lurid heavens, while the Rock itself seemed a mountain on fire.
The hot shot had told with terrible effect on the Spanish fortifications on the land side, and they were blazing in more than fifty places at once. By midnight it had proved equally appalling upon the fleets and floating batteries. Nearly every one of the smaller Spanish vessels was on fire, and distress signals were seen in all parts of the bay. The wind was adverse, and, with the powerful currents, was driving the ships of the line away from the Rock, so they could be of no assistance in saving these smaller vessels, which drifted about helplessly until the fire reached their magazines, and then would be exploded with a concussion that seemed to shake Gibraltar to its base. About two o'clock in the morning the floating batteries, which were the chief hope of the besiegers, were seen to be in disorder. It was then, by the fierce light of battle, that Archy Baskerville, from theAlceste'sdeck, recognized Captain Curtis, as, in command of a few lightgunboats, he put off from the New Mole, and, rapidly forming a line upon the flank of the floating batteries, drove them directly under the guns of the fortress. This was their destruction, and the Spaniards abandoned them so quickly that scores of wounded men were left aboard of them to perish in the flames. Then Archy saw Captain Curtis in a cutter make for the blazing and exploding boats, and with other officers and men drag forth the wounded, who would otherwise have perished in the flames. Archy's heart swelled almost to bursting.
"Oh, that I were there! that I were there!" he almost cried aloud, so overpowering to the heart and the imagination is the sight of heroism.
At one moment the cutter was alongside a gunboat just as the magazine blazed up. The whole vessel seemed to rise in the coppery sky and to break into a million pieces before it descended. No one ever expected to see the cutter and its heroic company again, but when the first horrible shock and crash were over she was seen still afloat.
The dreadful night wore away and the dawn came on. Archy, who thought that he had seen the most terrible sight in the world at the sinking of theRoyal George, now realizedthat there was something more dreadful still. The bay was covered with wreckage, to which drowning men clung. Dead bodies floated everywhere—the smell of powder and of blood was in the murky air. On the land side it was, if anything, worse. Fortifications were destroyed, guns were dismounted, the trenches were encumbered with the dead and dying. It was then, when the full scene of destruction was visible, that the hopelessness of the attack was seen. The preparations that had been months in making had been tried and had failed, and the flag of England still flew steadily over Gibraltar. As if by common consent the tremendous cannonade ceased, and just as the last gun was fired the first pale gleam of the sun shone upon the British ensign, and from the Rock came borne a cry of triumph as the salute was played.
Archy Baskerville, who had watched through the whole day and night, felt a thrill of something strangely like joy at the success of the indomitable garrison. He would have liked to echo that cry of triumph, and it required all of his self-control not to do so; but he remembered that he was on a ship of his allies, and, whatever his heart might feel, he spoke no wordthat indicated the conflict of emotions within him. The French officers were equally on their guard, but Archy, looking into the faces near him on theAlceste'sdeck, when that shout was wafted towards them from the invincible fortress, saw that they had no more hope. The fortress that could withstand the assault of the previous twenty-four hours was impregnable.
By common consent there was peace on the day after this frightful bombardment, and on that day Archy was permitted to go ashore, in the effort to communicate with Langton.
The Duc de Crillon at once gave permission for him not only to communicate with Langton, but to go inside the Landport gate. The most generous relations were maintained during the whole time that General Eliot and the Duc de Crillon were opposed to each other, and every favor consistent with prudence was granted on each side.
At nightfall, therefore, Archy was taken to the Landport gate blindfolded, and led inside the fortress, when presently he found himself in a casemate, and there—oh, joy! were Langton and Captain Curtis, both overjoyed to see him. But Langton was white and gasping for breath, and as weak as a child.
"He has not yet recovered from his fever, though he worked like a hero yesterday; but I think he will not be able to do any more during the siege," said Captain Curtis.
Langton could only smile feebly, and ask eagerly after his mother and sisters.
"But you must get well now, to be our grandfather's heir, because, I assure you, he means to make you so," cried Archy, trying to be cheerful, but feeling a sinking at the heart as he looked at Langton.
And then Archy declared he would not leave the fortress without a glimpse of Mrs. Curtis and Dolly and Judkins. They were all sent for, and there was a brief interview—too hurried for joy, but yet comforting when Archy clasped their hands and felt Dolly's childish arms around his neck. But, presently, like a dream, it was over, and he was once more outside the walls.
Archy had formed a plan before he had seen Langton for five minutes, and the very next day he carried it into effect. He got an audience with the Duc de Crillon, and told him briefly the story of his relations with Langton, and his forced imprisonment during a part of the siege, and then, in a burst of frankness, he said:
"Pardon, sir, but Mr. Langton can be of no more service at Gibraltar. I am almost afraid if released now that he will not live to return to England; but if he could be released on parole—he seems almost dying now—his mother—"
Archy stopped, and the Duc de Crillon, after a pause, turning to his military secretary, said:
"Make out a parole for Midshipman Langton, of the Royal navy, and address it to General Sir George Eliot, saying if, in his judgment, Mr. Langton is a non-combatant now, and likely to remain so, that this parole is at his service."
Archy tried to express his thanks, but his heart was too full for his tongue to be glib. His very hesitation and embarrassment, however, were not without their eloquence, and the Duc de Crillon did not for one moment suspect him of a want of gratitude.
It still took some days to arrange the preliminaries, and Archy was permitted to enter the fortress several times. He could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw how little damage had been inflicted by the greatest bombardment in history, and he could hardly believe his ears when the slight loss sustained by the besieged was mentioned to him. One thing appeared settled, that Gibraltar could never be taken byassault, and that the Spanish and French commanders would make no further efforts.
Archy, being plentifully supplied with money, through the assistance of the Spanish authorities was enabled to get a small neutral vessel, which agreed to take to England himself and Langton and a few other non-combatants who were permitted to leave the fortress.
On the last day of September they embarked. At the Landport gate Archy met Langton, looking frightfully ill, and supported by Captain Curtis and Judkins, while Mrs. Curtis and Dolly walked behind. The kindest farewells were exchanged.
"We will meet soon in England," said Archy; "the siege is over, the war with my country is over, and as soon as Parliament meets a general peace will be proclaimed. But, American as I am, I can never think of what I saw at Gibraltar without being proud to be of the same race as the men who defended it, and the women too."
At this, Dolly said, gravely:
"I love you, Archy, even if you are a rebel," which made them all laugh and relieved the sadness of the parting.
Once on board the vessel and under a fairwind for home, Langton seemed to take a new lease of life. Their quarters were cramped and their discomforts many, but he was homeward bound, and that was enough. They had a quick voyage to Gravesend, and taking post-horses for London, arrived at Lord Bellingham's town house in Berkeley Square, and, the first thing, Archy almost ran into Colonel Baskerville's arms.
"I have brought Langton himself back, instead of news concerning him," cried Archy, as soon as they were inside the doors; and the next moment he heard a faint cry beside him. Mrs. Langton, her arms wide open, had entered the room, and there Langton was in his mother's arms; and Colonel Baskerville and Archy turned their backs and pretended to be very busy talking, while the mother and son were in the first rapture of meeting. And then Mary and Isabel rushed in, and laughed and cried as they hugged Langton, and even condescended to be glad to see Archy; and presently they were all marched off to Lord Bellingham's room, who was to see, for the first time, the grandson for whom he destined a great fortune and a brilliant future.
Langton was still pale and weak, but it only made his face more interesting, and his bearing was still military.
Archy watched keenly the meeting between the old man and the young one. Lord Bellingham's piercing glance travelled all over Langton's person, and then wandered for a moment to Archy, who was, at all times, the handsomer and the more spirited of the two. But Langton's calm dignity and manly self-possession were not without their power, and even Lord Bellingham had no reason to be dissatisfied with him. And now Archy, having, as he justly thought, a right to express himself, indulged his natural and incurable propensity for speaking his mind, and, looking Lord Bellingham squarely in the eye, said:
"I hope, grandfather, you have now a grandson who will suit you in all respects, and I only wish you could give Langton the title, as I don't want it. By-the-way, sir, I hear that King George is preparing to back down as gracefully as possible at the meeting of Parliament."
To which Lord Bellingham's reply was to say, good-humoredly:
"Grandson, you have earned the right to be impertinent."
Langton was immediately established in the position of heir-apparent, and Lord Bellingham could scarcely allow him to recover from thefatigues of his journey before sending for the family solicitor to make his will. But Archy's position was far from unpleasant. He was a hero to Langton and to Mrs. Langton, and in course of time actually subdued Mary and Isabel, while Colonel Baskerville, who had always felt a deep affection for him, became every day more attached to him. As for Lord Bellingham, he seemed to find Archy a source of perpetual interest and diversion, and although he gave no hint of intending to do more than give him the promised two thousand pounds, it was plain that he was far from indifferent to his American grandson. Archy had always taken liberties, hitherto unheard of, with his grandfather, and so far from producing explosions of temper, they only provoked the silent laughter which was Lord Bellingham's way of showing amusement.
But Archy himself had undoubtedly improved. He was learning, by degrees, to be frank without being disagreeable, to have his joke without trampling upon the sensibilities of others, and to be considerate of the faults and foibles of old age. In fact, his self-love became enlisted on his grandfather's side, for, as Colonel Baskerville sometimes reminded him, dryly:
"If you had been born a peer with a greatrent-roll, I think you would have been more domineering and dictatorial than Lord Bellingham."
There was still no love lost between Archy and his two girl cousins, but their nimble tongues were silenced by Archy's generosity towards Langton, who was the family darling. It must be admitted that Archy took rather mean advantage of this, and when he received a long letter from Paul Jones, the lives of Mary and Isabel were made miserable by his chaff and jeers. Langton had to hear the whole story of their infatuation for Paul Jones, which lost nothing in Archy's telling, and made Langton laugh for a week; and when the letter by some untoward accident was lost, Archy declined to be convinced that Mary and Isabel had not cribbed it for a keepsake.
So several weeks passed in the gloomy old mansion, which Archy disrespectfully called an old rattle-trap. But they were not gloomy weeks to any one in it. For the first time in his life Lord Bellingham was surrounded by those who should be nearest and dearest to him, and he found life a very different and far pleasanter thing than when he had been at war with his whole family. His daughter's kind attentionsadded to his comfort, and his four handsome grandchildren were a source of infinite pride to him—and pride meant pleasure to Lord Bellingham. Parliament was to meet on the 5th of December, and Lord Bellingham determined to attend in his peer's robes and coronet, according to the custom of the times.
The day was dull and gloomy outside, but Archy Baskerville thought it the happiest and brightest day that had ever yet shone upon him, for the King, in his speech from the throne, was to acknowledge the independence of the American colonies.
About ten o'clock on that morning the family coach was at the door, and Colonel Baskerville, Archy, and Langton awaited Lord Bellingham to drive to the House of Lords. When he appeared in his scarlet robes, and carrying his coronet in his hand, something very like a smile appeared upon the countenances of his brother and his two grandsons. Archy mentally congratulated himself that he would never have to appear in such a rig, and even whispered as much to Langton. Lord Bellingham was in a very bad humor as the result of his trailing robes and troublesome coronet, but nothing could damp Archy's enthusiasm.
"We shall be mobbed," fretfully exclaimed Lord Bellingham. "This young gentleman here will probably begin huzzaing out of the coach window for the colonies, and God knows what will befall us then!"
"I'll take care of all of you, grandfather," magnanimously declared Archy, which only increased the Earl's irritation, and Archy proceeded to fan the flame by remarking that he supposed the King, too, was in a very bad humor that morning.
And so he was. When, amid a death-like stillness in the House of Lords, the King rose to read his speech to Parliament assembled, he gave every indication of agitation and embarrassment. He proceeded falteringly until he announced the cessation of the American war, and then, attempting to utter the sentence, "I offer to declare them free and independent States," he broke down completely, and, after a painful and agitated silence, with a distressing effort read the fateful words.
Archy was squeezed in a corner of the gallery close by Colonel Baskerville, who kept a keen watch upon him to check any characteristic outbreak of enthusiasm, and was actually enabled to prevent it until the tedious but imposingproceedings were over. Outside the Houses of Parliament a vast crowd was assembled. There were a few cheers for the King's speech, but most of the multitude accepted the tremendous event in solemn silence. As Archy came out with the surging crowd he suddenly shouted out a long and loud "Huzza!" but the next moment Colonel Baskerville had clapped his hand over Archy's mouth, had hustled him into the coach, and they were driving off, Lord Bellingham scowling in the corner seat. But Langton, shaking Archy's hand cordially, cried out:
"Congratulations, Archy. We shall yet live to glory in our kin beyond the sea."
* * * * *
Ten years after that, one Christmas Eve, a new and handsome equipage dashed into the village of Bellingham about dusk. As the coachman pulled up the horses, the footman jumped down, threw open the door, and let down the steps. Forth stepped Langton, now a handsome man of eight-and-twenty, and after him came Colonel Baskerville, not looking a day older than on that November afternoon, ten years before, when he had travelled from York with the young American midshipman, quite unconscious of the close relationship between them.
The coach from York was almost due, and they had not long to wait before it rolled in, the horses steaming in the wintry air. Without waiting for it to come to a full stop, Archy Baskerville made a flying leap from the box-seat, and Langton and himself, grasping each other, indulged in a bear-hug worthy of their midshipman days.
Archy then turned his attention to Colonel Baskerville, and treated him to a similar embrace, which almost broke his ribs, but which the Colonel bore uncomplainingly for the quiet joy the meeting with Archy gave him.
Langton promptly shoved Archy into the coach, the footman seized the portmanteaus from the boot of the York coach, and the four blooded horses took the road through the path towards Bellingham Castle.
"Langton," cried Archy, as soon as they were in the coach, "you are a thousand times welcome to the castle and the title, and even our grandfather's peer's robes and coronet, when they come to you, for I have now the prospect of having what my heart has yearned for during ten years. Congress has authorized the building of six fine frigates, and I have the promise of one of them. I shall be Captain Baskerville at last!"
"Then I know you will be happy," replied Langton. "I remember you always declared you would rather have a fine ship than the greatest castle in England."
"I do not think you have changed much," said Colonel Baskerville.
"Oh, you are mistaken, uncle," answered Archy, quite confidently. "I have learned prudence, I assure you, and a great many of the other beggarly virtues," at which the Colonel smiled significantly.
"And whom, think you, have we to meet you at Bellingham besides my mother and sisters? Dolly Curtis, now a lovely girl of twenty-two, and very anxious to see her old playfellow," said Langton.
"How jolly!" was Archy's reply. But when he tried to imagine Dolly as anything but a little girl, who played with him and scrambled all over him, and rode upon his shoulders and sang songs with Judkins, he failed utterly.
Presently they rattled up to the door and were in the great hall in a moment, and Mrs. Langton's arms were around Archy's neck, and she was leading him to Lord Bellingham's chair by the fire, where the old man sat quite tremulous with joy to see him.
And Archy burst out with the very thing that pleased Lord Bellingham most:
"I wished to see all my friends in England, grandfather, but especially you; for after I went back to America and experienced your generosity in providing for me, I recalled all your kindness while I was here, and I wondered how you put up with such a presumptuous little beggar as I was."
Isabel and Mary, two handsome and dignified young women, came forward and greeted him with the utmost cordiality, and they all three burst out laughing involuntarily at the same moment, remembering their ancient squabbles.
And then a charming, beautiful, modest girl advanced, who looked at Archy with strange but not unfriendly eyes—Dolly's eyes—and gave him her hand—over which he bowed—and said to him in a sweet and thrilling voice one word which brought back the stirring past:
"Gibraltar!"
THE END