AT the immediate time of which we now write, there had been some very aggravated instances of open resistance to the English and American cruisers on the African station by the slavers who thronged the coast, and the home government had sent out orders embracing extraordinary powers, in order that the first cases that might thenceforth come under the cognizance of the court might lead to such summary treatment of the offenders, as to act as an example for the rest, and thus have a most salutary effect upon the people thus engaged. It was under these circumstances that Captain Will Ratlin found himself arraigned before the maritime commission at Sierra Leone, with a pretty hard case made out against him at the outset of affairs.
The truth was, he had not been taken resisting the attack of Captain Bramble and his men, but his accusers did not hesitate to represent that he was thus guilty, and several were prepared, Maud among the rest, to swear to this charge. Indeed, Captain Bramble found that he had people about him who would swear to anything, and he had little doubt in proving so strong a case as to jeopardize even the life of his prisoner, since many of his crew had died outright in the attack upon the "Sea Witch," to say nothing of the seriously wounded. All that could prejudice the court against the prisoner was duly paraded before the eyes and ears of the individual members ere yet the case was brought legally before them, and at last when Captain Ratlin was formally brought into court, he was little less than condemned already in the minds of nine-tenths of the marine court.
He was rather amazed to see and to hear the free way in which evidence was given against him, corroborating statements which amounted to the most unmitigated falsehoods, but above all to find Maud unblushingly declare that she saw him in the fight, and that he shot with a pistol one of the men whose name had been returned as among the dead, and that he had wounded another. The girl avoided his eyes while she uttered her well-fabricated story, but had she met the eyes of the young commander, she would have seen more of pity there than of anger, more of surprise than of reproach, even. But in the meantime, while these feelings were moving him, the case was steadily progressing, and began to wear a most serious aspect as it regarded the fate of Captain Will Ratlin.
There still remained one other witness to examine, whose illness had kept him on board ship up to the last moment, and who it was said could identify the prisoner as one of the party engaged in defending the deck of the slaver. He was a servant of Captain Bramble's, had attended his master in the attack, but having received a blow from a handspike upon the head, was rendered insensible at the first of the action, and had been carried on board his ship in that condition, from which state he had gradually recovered until it was thought he would be able to testify before the court at the present time. After a few moments of delay, the man made his appearance, evidently not yet recovered from the fearful blow he had received, but yet able to take his place at the witness's post, and to perform the part expected of him.
No sooner had the court, through its head, addressed the witness, than he answered promptly the preliminary queries put to him, while the effect upon Captain Ratlin seemed to be like magic. Was it guilt that made him start so, rub his eyes, look about him so vaguely, and then sitting down, to cover his face with his hands, only to go through the same pantomime again? We ask, was it guilt that made him act thus? The judges noted it, and even made memorandums of the same upon their record of evidence. It was observed as significant also by every one present. Captain Bramble himself looked at the prisoner with surprise to see him thus effected by the presence of his servant.
"For the love of Heaven!" exclaimed the prisoner aloud, as though he could bear this intensity of feeling no longer, "who is this man?"
"It is my servant—an honest, faithful man, may it please the court. Leonard Hust, by name, born in my father's service," said Captain Bramble.
"Leonard Hust," mused the young commander, thoughtfully; "Leonard Hust!"
"Ay, sir," added Captain Bramble, somewhat pertly, "do you find any objection to that name? If so, sir, I pray you will declare it to the court."
"Leonard Hust!" still mused the prisoner, without noticing this interruption. "There is a strange ring upon my ears in repeating that name!"
"Prisoner," said the judge, "do you recollect having done this man a severe and almost fatal harm in the late conflict?"
"I—I," said the young commander, somewhat confused in his mind from an evident effort to recall some long-forgotten association.
"You will be so good as to answer the question put by the court," repeated the judge.
"The court will please remember that I hurt no one, and that I was not even engaged in the action referred to. These good people are mistaken."
Now it was that the attention of all were drawn towards Leonard Hust, who in turn seemed as much surprised and as much moved by some secret cause as the prisoner had been. He hastily crossed the court room to where the prisoner sat, and looking full into his eyes, seemed to be for a moment entranced, while the court remained silent, observing these singular manifestations, which they could not understand.
"Leonard—Leonard, I say!" repeated Captain Bramble, "what trick is this?"
"Trick!" whispered the man; "trick, Captain Bramble! Tell me, sir, who is that man?"
"Why, they call him Captain Will Ratlin, and we know him to be a slaver."
The servant still hesitated, looking from the prisoner to his principal accuser, the English officer, then at the court, and finally drawing his master a little on one side, the man again went through the pantomime described, and placing his mouth to his master's ear whispered something which startled him as though a gun had been fired at his very ear. The shock was like electricity, and made him stagger for support. Two or three times he repeated "Impossible! impossible!" and finally begged the court to stay the proceedings, as he was taken suddenly ill, and should not be able to attend until to-morrow. Being the principal prosecutor and witness, of course his presence was requisite to the progress of the trial, and therefore as he made this request it was at once formally granted, and the court adjourned for the time, while the prisoner was remanded on ship-board for safe keeping until the next day.
That the reader may understand the singular conduct of both the young commander and Leonard Hust, he must follow the latter worthy into his master's private room in the government house, where they proceeded at once after the occurrences described.
"In Heaven's name, Leonard, what do you mean by such an assertion?" asked Captain Bramble, throwing himself into a chair, and wiping the cold perspiration from his face.
"I mean, sir, that the man on trial to-day is no more nor less than your brother!"
"Charles Bramble?"
"Yes, sir."
"How strange is all this. How know you beyond all cavil, Leonard?"
"By the scar over the right eye. You gave it to him yourself. Don't you remember, sir, just previous to the dog affair, for which he ran away from home!"
"By Heaven! I believe you speak truly; and yet how strange, how more than strange it all is, that we should meet again in this way!"
"It quite nonplussed me, sir. I thought he was a ghost at first."
"Strange, strange!" mused the elder brother. "In those days, long ago in our childhood, he crossed my path constantly, and here he is again athwart my hawse. By Heaven! but it is strange—wonderful, that fate should have thrown him and Helen Huntington together again, and that neither should know the other; and yet not so very strange, for she was but eight years old when Charles ran away. Yes, he thwarted me then, for even in childhood the girl fancied him above me, and now she affects him even in his fallen fortunes."
"What shall we do, sir, now that master Charles has turned up again?" asked Leonard Hust, in his simplicity. "We cannot testify against him now, sir."
"No, no, no!" said the elder brother, hastily, "he must not be further examined."
"How he has altered, sir, only to think," continued the servant; "why, when he went away from Bramble Park, sir, he wasn't much more than nine years old."
"Yes. I remember, I remember, Leonard," replied his master, hurriedly, while he walked the apartment with quick, irregular steps. "I remember only too well."
This was indeed that elder brother who had, when a boy, so oppressed, so worried, and rendered miserable his brother Charles, as to cause him in a fit of desperation to stray away from home, whither he knew not. His parents saw now—alas! too late—their fatal error; but the boy was gone, no tidings could be had of him, and they believed him dead. The honest tar, whose yarn the attentive reader will remember, as given on the deck of the "Sea Witch," spoke truly of his commander. He had, years before, strayed alongside a vessel, as has been related, from whence he hardly knew himself, or was afraid to say. Hunger and neglect even then had greatly changed him, and he shipped, as has been related. The fall he got at sea threw a cloud over his brain as to past recollections up to that time, and here if the wish ever possessed him as to returning to his early home, he knew naught of it.
When he heard the voice of Leonard Hust in the court, it seemed to strike upon some string in memory's harp, which vibrated to old familiar recollections, and the more he heard him speak the more the sensation came over him which led to the demonstrations which we have already witnessed. And yet he could not recall aught that would serve him as a clue—the early injury to his brain seemed to have obliterated the connecting links that memory could not supply. The reason, probably, why the servant's voice and not the brother's thus recalled him was, that the former had been kind, and his voice had ever sounded like music in the neglected boy's ears, but the brother's voice had never had that charm or happy association connected with it. As to little cousin Helen,—as she was then called,—it was not strange that Miss Huntington, after years of estrangement in India, meeting him under such circumstances, himself so changed, should not have recalled enough of the past to recognize him; and yet we have seen that at times she dwelt upon the tender accents of his voice like sleeping memories, herself quite ignorant of the cause of this peculiar influence.
She was now with her mother on shore at the mission house, in an agony of suspense as to the result of the trial which was taking place. She feared the worst, for Captain Bramble had taken measures to instruct those about her to their effect that the prisoner would be found guilty, and either strung cup by the neck at once, or be sent home to England for the same purpose. Mrs. Huntington felt sad and borne down by the position of affairs—for although she did not understand her daughter's sentiments towards Captain Ratlin, yet she recognized the fact of her and her child's indebtedness to him, and that he had evinced the characteristics of a gentleman.
"Mother, if they find Captain Ratlin guilty, what can they, what will they do with him?" asked Helen Huntington anxiously of her mother, on the day of the trial.
"Why, my dear, it is terrible to think of, but the penalty of such a crime as is charged to him, is death; but we must hope for the best, and—why Helen, how pale you look!"
"It was only a passing spasm, mother. I am—I believe I am already better," said the daughter, in an agony of suffering that she dared not evince.
"Come, Helen, lean on me and go to your bed for a while; these sudden changes and so much exposure has rendered you weak. Come, my dear, come."
And the poor girl, all trembling and pale, suffered her mother to lead her to her chamber, where a gentle anodyne soothed her nerves, and she soon fell to sleep. Had her mother not been little better than blind, she would have easily read her daughter's heart, and have seen that she loved with all her woman's soul the man who was that day on trial for his life. What mattered it to her that he was nameless, a wanderer, a slaver? She loved him, and that covered each and all faults, however heinous in the sight of the law. She felt that it was not the outward associations which made a man. She had looked beneath the surface of his soul, and had seen the pure crystal depth of his manly heart—frank, open, and as truthful as day itself. To her he was noble, chivalric and true, and if all the world had blamed him, if all had called him guilty, her bosom would have been open to receive him!
Could he have realized this as he lay in chains on board his elder brother's ship—could he have known that he was really loved by that fair, sweet and gentle creature, how it would have lightened the weight of the iron bands he bore—how cheered his drooping spirits.
Now commenced a struggle in the bosom of Robert Bramble. It was some hours before he could recover from the first blush of amazement at the strange discovery he had made. Not to have had something of a brother's feelings come over him at such a time, he must have been less than human; and it was between the promptings of blood, of early recollections of childhood, before he grew to that age when his disposition, ruined by indulgence, had led him so bitterly to oppress and injure his brother as to drive him from the home of their youth, and the recollection of those little more matured years, when jealousy at his superior aptness, strength, and success with "cousin Helen," had made him hate him.
It was impossible for the man to forget the bitterness of the child; besides, had not the same spirit of rivalry ripened, until he found his brother in manhood still his successful rival with Helen Huntington? The reader will remember that they had all three been children together, and that the last time Charles had looked back at his home, as he started away from it, his eye detected the little form of Helen, where she stood gazing after him.
If there had been any better promptings in the heart of Robert Bramble, they would have turned the balance in favor of his brother, and he would have befriended him; but this he did not do. He walked his room, bitterly musing upon the singular position of affairs, while he knew very well that Charles lay in chains on board his ship in the harbor. Then he recalled the memory of his parents, as connected with this state of affairs. The father was dead, the mother, a weak-minded woman, was also bowed by ill-health; indeed, their early lives had few happy associations. Robert himself had embittered all its relations.
It was nearly midnight, and the moon had sunk behind the hill that sheltered the harbor on the north, leaving the dark water of the bay in deep shadow. At long gunshot from the shore lay the ship in which Charles Bramble was confined. All was still as death, save the pace of the sentinel in the ship's waist, and a ripple now and then of tide-way against the ship's cable. An observant eye, from the leeward side of the ship, might have seen a dark form creep out from one of the quarter ports, and gradually make its way along the moulding of the water-lines toward the larboard bow ports, one of which it stealthily entered.
Entering with this figure, we shall soon find it to be Leonard Hust, who now, watching an opportunity, slipped into the apartment where the young commander had been confined since he left the factory of Don Leonardo. No sooner was the door closed quietly, so as to avoid the observation of the watch between decks, than the new comer opened a secret lantern and discovered himself to the prisoner, at the same time cautioning him to silence.
"Who are you?" coolly asked Charles Bramble, for thus we must know him in future.
"Leonard Hust," was the reply; "your friend, as I will soon prove."
"But it is only a few hours since you were giving witness against me."
"That is true; but bless you, sir, there has been a great change in matters since that."
"So I thought, by the movements I observed, though I did not understand them."
"Hist! speak low, sir," said the other, "and while I am talking to you, just let me, at the same time, be filing off these steel ornaments upon your wrists!"
"File them off? Well, then, you must, indeed, be a friend," said the prisoner.
"Leave me to prove that. Sit here, so the light will fall on them, with your back this way, that will keep the light from showing between decks. So, that is it."
"But what was it made your voice and the sound of your name affect me so this morning? I could not divest myself of the feeling that, I had heard it somewhere before."
"Heard it? bless you, sir, I rather think you have heard it before," said the fellow, as he worked industriously with his file upon the handcuffs.
"Well, where, and when; and under what circumstances?" asked the prisoner, curiously.
"That is just what I am going to tell you, sir; and you see, master Charles—"
"Master Charles,—Charles,—why do you call me that name?"
"Why, you see, that is your name, to be sure. Charles Bramble, and you are Captain Robert Bramble's brother, and—take care, hold still, or the file will cut you."
"How,—do not trifle with me,—what is this which you are telling me?"
"Indeed, sir,—indeed, it is all true," said the other, half frightened at the effect his words had produced upon the prisoner, who now stepped away from him and stood aloof, withdrawing his wrists from the operation which Leonard Hust was performing.
"Come hither, Leonard Hust, if that be your name," he said; "sit here and tell me what this business is that you refer to. No blind hints, sir, but speak out plainly, and like a man."
Thus interrogated, the man did as he was directed, and went on to tell the commander of the "Sea Witch" his story, up to the time when he was lost to his parents and friends. How he had never been kindly treated by his elder brother, who, indeed, drove him from home by his incessant oppression. He referred to that last gallant act he had performed, by saving his mother's favorite dog, and how little cousin Helen (she is the same as Miss Huntington) had seen it all, and had thanked him over and over again for it, and a thousand other reminiscences, thread by thread, and link by link, filling up the space from earliest childhood to the hour when he had left his home at Bramble Park.
As he went on relating these things, in the same old natural voice that he had poured into the same ears from their infancy, until nearly ten years had passed, a long-closed vein of memory seemed gradually to open in the prisoner's brain; he covered his face with his hands, and for a few moments seemed lost in connecting the various threads of the past, until gradually it all came plainly and clearly back to him. His memory had again by these hints become completely restored, he was himself again!
"Leonard, Leonard, I see all, remember all," he said, while a tear, a man's tear, wet for a single moment his bronzed cheek.
"I am rejoiced, sir, to hear it, I am sure," said the other.
"But, Leonard, where is my brother, and why is it necessary to remove these badges of shame by stealth? Tell me, where is Robert?"
"Alas, sir, you must remember that he never held a brother's regard for you; it was that very thing which drove you from us when you were a wee bit of a boy."
"True, true; but he must see the hand of Providence in all this, and I know he will give me his hand, and we will forgive each other and forget the past."
"Alas! sir, I always befriended you at home, when master Robert had set both the old folk against you, and I would do so now; but as to him, sir, I am sorry to say it, but he's a bad man, and he makes all those who are with him bad men, and I have many a sad thing at heart that I have been guilty of by following his orders, sir. No, no, master Charles, take my advice, don't trust Robert,—make your escape, or you will be hanged at the yard-arm of this very ship ere another twenty-four hours have passed!"
"Is he capable of this?" asked the younger brother, in tones of amazement.
"Nobody should know better than I, sir, and I tell you yes."
"My blood, then, shall not be upon his hands," said Charles, musing, "I will escape. Come, good Leonard, relieve me of these shackles, and quickly."
"Slowly, slowly, master Charles, we must be cautious, there are watchful eyes on board the ship, and sentries who know their duty, so be wary."
The young commander seemed now to stand more erect, there was a freer glance to his eye, his lips were more compressed and firm, he felt that what had been to him heretofore an indelible stain, a stigma upon his character, was now effaced; he was not only respectably born, but even gently and highly so. His father was knighted by his king, his blood was as pure and ancient as any in England. He could now take Helen Huntington to his heart without shame; he could boldly plead a cause that he had not before dared to utter; he could refer her to the dear hours of their childhood, to the tender kiss she gave him when he left that distant home to become a wanderer over half the globe!
He no longer felt the irons that Leonard Hust was filing away. He seemed to feel a strength that would have snapped them like pack threap. He was a man now, a free man, and not a thing of accident; a thing for the world to point at in scorn, not an abandoned child of shame. No, he felt nerved at once by this singular, this almost miraculous discovery, and could hardly restrain his impatience. Yet a shadow for a moment crossed over his brow, as he thought of that brother, who could coldly look on and see him sacrificed, knowing what he must and surely did know. Could he have permitted such a result, had he been in Robert's place? Indeed, he felt he could not.
"Does not my brother know that you are here on this errand, Leonard?"
"If he did it would cost me my life," said the honest fellow.
Charles would have placed some favorable construction upon the case, but, alas, he could not; there was no possible way of disguising the matter. Robert was the same bitter, jealous-spirited soul that had rendered his childhood miserable. Time had not improved him,—it was his nature and could not be eradicated. Charles now realized this, and within a few further inquiries of Leonard, touching matters of vital interest to him, he resolved not to seek Robert, as he had at the outset intended, neither would he avoid him. He knew no other person save him could bring a continuance of the suit against him, but he hardly feared that even he would do that.
"Of course Helen Huntington knows nothing of this development yet, Leonard?"
"No, sir, and master Robert bid me be careful not to let her find it out, or to say one word about the matter to any one whatever. I wonder the lady didn't know you, sir."
"You forget that even Robert did not recognize me."
"And that, too, seemed funny to me. Why, sir, I seemed to know you the instant I set eyes on you in the court, and when I got close I soon settled the doubt in my mind."
"Well, my good fellow, it seems that but for you I might have been hanged, and that, too, by my own bother; but I trust all is set right now."
"I hope so, sir, only you must not let master Robert know that I liberated you from these ruffles, sir, will you, master Charles?"
"Never fear me, Leonard, I shall not do as you were about to do towards me, give testimony that will in any way criminate you."
"But I wasn't, sir, of my own free will, only master Robert had told me what I must say, and stick to it, and swear to it through thick and thin, and I'm afraid not to obey him."
"Poor fellow, I see you are, indeed, his tool; but if I find myself in any sort of a position ere long, I will take care to make your situation more comfortable."
"Thank ye, sir," said Leonard Hust, just as the last shackle dropped from the prisoner's wrists.
In the mean time, let us turn for a moment to the bedside of Captain Robert Bramble, for it is long past midnight, and, weary in mind and body, he had retired to that rest which he most certainly needed. But sleep is hardly repose to the guilty, and he was trebly so. Phantoms of all imaginable shapes flitted across his brain, pictures of suffering, of misery and of danger, to all of which he seemed to be exposed, and from which he had no power to flee. Alas, how fearful the shadows that haunt a bad man's pillow. He writhed like one in physical pain, tossed from side to side, while the cold perspiration stood in big drops upon his brow and temples.
Now his dreams carry him back, far back a score of years, to his childhood at Bramble Park, when all was innocence, and then, with leaping strides, he finds himself, years after, even as to-day, bearing deadly witness against his brother. His dead father seems standing by his bedside, pointing at him a warning finger, and sadly chiding his fearful want of feeling. He tosses and turns and writhes again, then leaping from the uneasy bed, looks bewildered around, and half grows alarmed. Quickly he wraps a dressing-gown about him, and hastily walks back and forth to still the agony of feeling and the bitter phantoms of his dreams. How haggard and wild he looks by that dim candle-light.
Once more he throws himself upon his bed, and, after a while, is again asleep, if such unconsciousness can be called sleep. Again he tosses, and turns, and sighs like one in a nightmare until at last, towards the breaking of day, the quick, startling breathing ceases, and subsides into a regular and equal respiration, and he lies still. Nature overcomes all else, and he now sleeps, indeed, but not until he has passed through a fearful purgatory of dreams, all too real, too trying.—His brother, with soon the prospect of a disgraceful death on the gallows, had not suffered thus. No, he was repentant for the wrong he had done, and had already resolved to completely reform if the opportunity were offered to him; but Robert Bramble was outraging the laws of nature and of God.
CHARLES BRAMBLE found himself playing a dangerous part. It was true that Leonard Hust had freed his hands from those shackles that had confined them so long, and had pointed out to him the way to retreat and escape; but he must run the gauntlet of dangers in order to do so. This, however, he was prepared to do; as to fear, it was a sensation he knew not; but prudence was much more requisite in this instance than any especial degree of courage. As is always the case on board a man-of-war, especially when lying in port, where the escape to the shore is easy, sentinels were placed at stem, stern and waist of the English ship, at all hours, pacing their allotted round of the deck, and keeping watchful guard over every avenue of exit from the vessel.
The only possible plan of escape that suggested itself to Charles Bramble, under the circumstances, was to place a few necessary articles of clothing in a small package, and confine it to the back of his neck, while he should divest himself of all garments, slip quietly into the water on the seaward side of the ship, where none of the sentries were immediately placed, the object being to guard the access to the shore more especially. Once in the water he had only to strike out quietly for the shore, trusting the dullness of the sentries and the favoring darkness of the night to enable him to reach the land unobserved.
He had the most to fear from the sentry placed on the top-gallant forecastle of the ship, as that post was so near to his line of passage. He would have to swim around the bows far enough out to clear the land tackle, and when he got on an even line with the ship's bows, this sentry, if he happened to be on the lookout at the moment, could hardly fail to see him on the surface of the water. To obviate this difficulty, Leonard Hust, who was a sort of privileged person on board, being the captain's confidential servant and man of all work, undertook to engage the sentry's attention by sonic device, for a few moments, just at the opportune period, while the prisoner should get fairly clear of the ship.
"See here, Bill," said Leonard Hust, carelessly, as he emerged from the fore hatch; "look ye, old boy, I have had such a dream, hang me if I can sleep a wink."
"What's that to me?" growled the sentry, morosely, and not much more than half awake.
"Why, if you knew what it was I dreamed, you would think it was something to you," continued the other, with assumed mystery and seriousness.
"Look ye, Leonard Hust," said the marine, "do you know you arc talking to a sentry on duty, and that it's clearly against the rules of the ship to do so?"
"Why, as to the matter of that, I don't see hut that you are as much to blame as I am," continued the other; "but who is there to peach on either of us?"
"That's true," added the marine, bringing the butt of his musket lightly to the deck; "but for all that, Leonard, it's dangerous business, for you see if—hallo! what's that?"
"Nothing; nothing but me drawing this cork," said the other, quickly producing a small bottle of brandy from his pocket, and urging the marine to drink.
The temptation was too great, and the sleepy and tired sentinel drank a heavy draught of the liquor, smacking his lips, and forgetting the sound he had just heard, and which Leonard Hust very well knew was caused by the prisoner's descent a little too quickly into the water, alongside the ship.
"Now, Bill, what do you think I did dream?" continued the captain's man.
"Bother it, how can I tell?" answered the marine. "Let it out if it's worth telling."
"Why, do you see, Bill, I kept tossing and turning uncomfortable-like for an hour or so, until finally I thought I saw you, with your face as black as the ace of spades, and your body dangling by the neck from the main yard-arm of the ship, a dead man!"
"Well, that's comfortable at any rate," said the marine, "and you needn't trouble yourself in future, Leonard Hust, to repeat your dreams to me, especially if they are personal."
"Never mind, man, it was all a dream, no truth in it, you know. Come, old boy, take another drink for companionship, and then good night to you, and I'll turn in."
The marine greedily drained the rest of the bottle, and with swimming eyes thanked Leonard for his kindness, bade him good night, and with an unsteady step resumed his musket and his walk upon the forecastle. In the meantime, Charles Bramble, who was an expert swimmer, had got out of gunshot and even sight of the ship, or rather where his head could not be discovered from the ship's deck, and was nearing the shore very fast. He had secured, as he proposed, sufficient clothing upon the back of his neck, and in an oil cloth covering, so as to keep it dry, to equip himself quite comfortably on landing, and in these garments he was soon dressed again, and making his way through the town to the mission house, where he knew Helen Huntington and her mother to be, and where he knew, also, that he could find at last temporary lodgings.
He had no longer any fear that his brother would resume the charge concerning him before the court—bad as he knew him to be, he did not believe that he would do this, though he doubted not that he would have managed to have kept him in confinement, and perhaps to have carried him thus to England, partly from revengeful feelings towards him, and partly to keep him out of the presence of her whom he so tenderly loved. But, lest his brother should be betrayed by his feelings into any extremity of action concerning him, he resolved at once to write him a note, declaring that their relationship was known, and that should any further persecution be offered, the same should at once be made public to the oppressor's disgrace.
With this purpose, he hardly awaited the breaking of day before he possessed himself of writing materials, and wrote and despatched the following to his brother:
"CAPTAIN ROBERT BRAMBLE,—About the same time you receive this note, you will also be made aware, doubtless, of my escape from durance vile in your ship. The purpose of my sending yon this is not to ask any favors at the hand of one who was never actuated towards me even in childhood by a brother's regard, but whose sole desire and purpose have been to oppress and injure one related to him by the nearest ties of relationship. My object is rather to let you know that any further attempt to arraign me before the court will lead at once to a public declaration of the fact that your are my brother, a relationship which necessity alone will compel me to publish to the people of Sierra Leone.
CHARLES BRAMBLE,"Alias CAPTAIN WILL RATLIN."
Charles Bramble felt that he was safe from further immediate oppression on his brother's part, and that it was only necessary for him to keep quietly within doors until some chance for shipping from the port should occur, to enable him to disentangle himself from the singular web of circumstances which chance had woven so net-like about him. In spite of the sad accomplishments of the realization of his condition as it regarded his brother, and the partial danger of his present position, yet there was a lightness to his heart, a buoyancy in his breast, which he had not known for nearly a score of years, for he now felt that all shame of birth was removed from him, that he was respectably and even highly born, and that in point of blood was even the equal, full equal of that fair and lovely girl he regarded so devotedly.
Of course there was no disguise between Charles Bramble and Helen, and her mother, as to the charge brought against him. They knew very well that he had been engaged in the evil trade of the coast, but they knew also that he had conducted his part of the business upon the most humane principles which the traffic would admit, and that he was not a principal, but an agent in the business, sailing his ship as rich owners had directed, and also that besides the fact of his having utterly renounced the trade altogether since he became acquainted with Helen Huntington, his heart and feelings had never been engaged in its necessary requirements. Realizing these facts, we say, neither Helen nor her mother regarded Captain Ratlin (the only character in which they yet knew him) to be actually and seriously culpable as to at charge of inhumanity.
The gratification which Helen evinced on meeting him the next morning after his escape from the ship, was too honest, too unmistakable in its import not to raise up fresh hopes in his heart, that, in spite of his seeming disgrace, his confinement as a prisoner, his trial as an outlaw, and his fallen fortunes generally, still there was one heart that beat purely and tenderly with at least a sister's affection for him, and even Mrs. Huntington, who had not for one moment suspected the true state of her daughter's sentiments towards the young commander, did not hesitate to salute him tenderly, and assure him of her gratification at his release from bondage. She was a generous hearted woman, frank and honorable in her sentiments, and she secretly rejoiced that they had, herself and daughter unitedly, been able to exert a refining influence over so chivalric and noble a character, as she fully realized Captain Ratlin to be at heart, and in all his inward promptings.
Charles Bramble still hesitated as to revealing his relationship to Captain Robert Bramble, from real feelings of delicacy, even to Mrs. Huntington, whom he felt he could trust, partly because he had reason to know that the mother had favored the suit of his brother whom Helen had rejected in India, and partly because at present of his own equivocal situation. But to Helen herself he felt that he might, indeed that he must reveal the important truth, and that very evening as they sat together in one of the spacious apartments of the mission house, he took her hand within his own, and asked her if he might confide in her as he would have done with a dear sister.
"You know, Captain Ratlin, that I feel so much indebted to you, in so many ways, that any little service I am capable of doing for you would be but a grateful pleasure," was the instant and frank reply of the beautiful girl, while a heightened glow mantled her cheek.
"Then, Helen, listen to me, and if I am too excited in speaking of a subject so immensely important to me, I trust you will forgive me. Already I have given you a rough outline of my story, rough and uncouth indeed, since I could give it no commencement. You will remember that previous to the fall I got on ship-board, while a boy in the 'Sea Lion,' I could recall no event. It was all a blank to me, and my parentage and my childhood were to me a sealed book. Strange as it may seem that book has been opened, and the story is now complete. I know all!"
"Indeed! indeed I am rejoiced to hear you say so," was the earnest reply, while the countenance of the fair creature by his side was lighted up by tenderness and hope.
"You look pleased, Helen," he continued; "but supposing the gap in my story, which is now filled up, had better for my own credit have remained blank!"
"That cannot be—I feel that it cannot be," she said, almost eagerly.
"Supposing that it is now ascertained that the parents of the sailor boy, whose story you have heard, deserted him because of necessity; supposing they were poor, very humble, but not dishonest, would such facts rob me of your continued kind feelings?"
"You know, Captain Ratlin, that you need not ask such a question," she replied, as she looked into his face with her whole gentle soul open through her eyes.
"You are too kind, too trusting in your confidence in me, Helen," he said.
The only reply was from her downcast eyes, and a still warmer blush which covered the delicate surface of her temples even, and glowed in silent beauty upon her cheek.
"Helen," continued he by her side in tones of tenderness that were momentarily becoming more and more gentle, more and more expressive of the deepest feeling; "Helen, do you remember the days of your childhood, at home, in far-off England, at home near Bramble Park?"
"Yes, yes," she answered, eagerly. "But why do you speak of those days?"
She looked into his face as she asked, almost as though she could read his meaning.
"Do you remember Robert Bramble then?"
"Well, well."
"And do you remember his brother, Helen?"
"Gracious heavens, yes!" she quickly answered, almost anticipating his words.
"Well, Helen, Charles Bramble is before you!"
She did not faint nor utter a shriek at the effect of the powerfully condensed feelings which crowded upon her heart and senses; but she stood for one moment gazing at him as though a veil had been removed from her eyes, recalling in one instant of time the sweet memories of their childish days together, recalling even the kiss, that last kiss he had given her years, years before, when he saw her for the last time, until they met in the broad ocean; she recalled these things and a thousand more in a moment of time. She remembered how strangely the tones of his voice had affected her from the outset, how they had seemed to awaken dreams of the past nearly every time she listened to him. These things she thought like a flash of mind in one instant, and then, covering her face with her hands, sobbed aloud!
One moment Charles Bramble stood and looked upon that long-loved, beautiful form; one moment, like herself, recalled the past, the sunshine of his childish hours—ay, even the last kiss which she, too, remembered, now that so much had been recalled; and then he tenderly drew the weeping, loving girl to his heart, and whispered to her how dearly he loved her still!
THE first intimation of his brother's escape from confinement reached Captain Bramble through the letter which we have already given to the reader. His rage knew no bounds; he saw at once that he was foiled completely, that he could do nothing towards his arrest, even, without casting such dishonor upon his own name as would publicly disgrace him for all time to come. In vain were all his efforts to discover the guilty assistants or assistant of the prisoner, as it was not known at what hour he escaped. Even the three sentinels on duty at the time could not be identified, though Leonard Hust's friend, Bill, did more than suspect that some trick had been played upon him during his watch; but he could say nothing about the matter without making such a case of self-crimination as to ensure punishment, and that, too, of the most sanguinary character. Leonard Hust knew this, and feared him not.
There was another party sadly disappointed in this state of affairs, one who only assumed sufficient importance to be noticed when her services were needed, but she nevertheless felt and suffered, probably, as much as any one of our characters. We refer to Maud Leonardo. She had found lodgings in an obscure residence in the town during the course of the trial, and had resolved to remain until the sentence was given (of the result of which no one doubted), and even until the detail of that sentence should be executed, which she had already, learned would doubtless be death by hanging at the yard-arm of the ship in which he was confined. Poor girl! it was sad to think that she could gloat over this anticipated result—such was the power of her revenge.
But in the same ratio to the intensity of her secret satisfaction at the hoped-for execution of Captain Will Ratlin, whom she had once loved, but now so bitterly hated, was her disappointment, vexation, and uncontrollable anger, at the idea of his escape, of which she was one of the first to learn.
Captain Robert Bramble, though he did not attempt to find his brother, would hardly have believed that he would remain openly in town, and at the mission-house; but Maud reasoned more truly. It was the first thought that entered her head that he had probably gone thither to be near and with Helen Huntington, and thither she stealthily crept, and watched until she saw him, and thus satisfied herself. Knowing nothing of the discovery that had been made, she hastened to give information to Captain Bramble, supposing that he would take steps for his immediate arrest; but in this she was disappointed.
She could not understand the apathy which seemed to have come over the English officer who so lately had thirsted for the young commander's blood, and she went away from him amazed and dejected. In vain, thus far, had her attempts resulted as to sacrificing him whom she so bitterly despised. She had trusted to others thus far—this she said to herself, as she mused at the fruitless attempts she had been engaged in—now she would trust to herself. But how to do it she hardly knew. When he was under her father's roof, and she unsuspected of hostility to him, it would have been an easy matter, with her knowledge of poisons, to have sacrificed his life; but now it was not so very easy for her to find an opportunity for any sort of approach to him. But this seemed her last and only resource of vengeance, and she cared to live only to consummate it.
Actually afraid to bring his brother again to trial, for fear of a personal exposure, Captain Robert Bramble was now in a quandary; he was looked to by the court for a conclusion of the suit he had brought, and was now so situated that he found it necessary to screen that brother whom he so bitterly disliked, from the cognizance of the authorities. Indeed, he became nervous lest the exposure should become public in spite of his efforts at concealing the singular facts. All this, of course, tended to the safety of his brother Charles, who had rightly anticipated this state of affairs in relation to the part that Robert must needs enact; he therefore felt perfectly safe in awaiting an opportunity for shipment to England in the first vessel bound thither, and it was at once agreed between Mrs. Huntington, Helen and himself, that they would go together. The period of the return of Captain Bramble's ship to England was fast approaching, and passage had been offered to Helen and her mother therein; but Helen had promptly declined it, and induced her mother to do so also, though it required some persuasion to bring this result about.
Charles Bramble, of course, kept within doors at Sierra Leone, and did not, by exposing his person, provoke arrest. He was reading aloud to Helen a few days subsequent to his escape from his brother's ship, when the door of the room was stealthily opened, and a person stepped in.
"Well, Leonard Hust," said Charles Bramble, "what has brought yon here so clothed in mystery? Art well, my good fellow?"
"Yes, very well, master Charles; but I come to tell you that you must get away from this place, for a few days at least. It is not safe for you."
"What is in the wind, Leonard, now? Have the court scented me out?"
"Yes, mister Charles, and your brother Robert has agreed to deliver you up!"
"Has he?" added Charles Bramble, musing. "I did not expect that."
"Yes, sir; and I thought I would just slip over here and advise you to get off as quick as possible, for the officers will be over here in an hour or so."
"Thank you, Leonard. What is that protruding from your pocket?"
"Pistols, sir."
"Very good, Leonard, I will borrow them."
"They are yours, sir, with all my heart."
"Are they loaded, Leonard?"
"With two slugs each, sir, and as true as a compass."
These formidable preparations startled Helen, who looked beseechingly towards him whom she loved better than her own life. She came and placed a hand timidly upon his shoulder, and looked into his face with all the wealth of her heart expressed in her eyes, as she said:
"Pray, pray, Charles, be cautious, be prudent for my sake, will you not?"
"I will, dearest," he whispered, as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her pure white forehead. "We shall not long be separated—I feel that we shall not."
Leonard Hust, who had befriended the younger brother while the two were under the parental roof, still clung to the interest of Charles Bramble. He had already procured for him a guide—a negro runner—who knew the coast perfectly, and with him for a companion, and a small pack of provisions, and well armed, Charles Bramble determined to make his way by land back to Don Leonardo's factory on the southern coast. In so doing, he would be able not only to elude all pursuit, but would also be able to further his own pecuniary interest by settling up his affairs with Don Leonardo, and arranging matters as to the property that had been entrusted to him by the owners of the "Sea Witch."
Charles Bramble awaited impatiently the coming of the guide, until indeed he was afraid that longer delay would expose him to the arrest which he so much desired to avoid, and then telling Leonard that he would hasten forward to the outskirts of the town, where he would await the guide. Leonard Hust promised to bring him directly, and thus they parted; the younger brother, hastening towards the jungle at the environs of Sierra Leone, at length reached the designated spot, where he quietly awaited the arrival of his guide. It was quite dark before the expected individual came; but at length he did arrive, and thrusting a note into the hands of the impatient refugee, waited for orders. Charles opened the paper and read in a rough school-boy hand, that he, Leonard Hast, had intended to come to see him off, but that he could not, and that the bearer was a faithful guide, somewhat eccentric, but reliable.
Charles Bramble looked carefully for a few moments at the companion of his long and dangerous journey. He saw before him the person of a negro, slender, agile, rather below the usual height, and clothed after the style of the settlers, in pants and jacket, but with a red handkerchief bound upon the head. In a coarse, leathern belt, the negro wore a short double-edged knife and a pistol, while in his hand he held a short, sharp spear, which served for staff and weapon both, and was designed more particularly for defence against the wild animals that infested the jungle in all directions.
The guide was painted in the face after fantastic style often adopted by the shore tribes in Africa, in alternate lines of red and yellow and white, so as to give a most strange and inhuman expression to the countenance. But Charles Bramble was familiar with these tricks of the race, and saluting the guide kindly told him his plans, and asked if he could guide him on the route. Being assured in the affirmative, he felt satisfied, and the two, by the light of the moon, which was now creeping up in the heavens, commenced their journey, intending, after passing a few leagues, to make up their camp, light their fires to keep off the wild animals, and sleep.
The resting-place was at last found, and after the usual arrangements had been completed, and a circle of fire built around them, the two lay down to sleep. Fatigue soon closed the eyes of our young adventurer, and he slept soundly, how long he knew not; but after a while he was awakened by the breaking of some decayed branches near him, and partially opened his eyes, half asleep, half conscious, when to his utter amazement he beheld, or fancied he beheld, a dozen pairs of glistening eyes peering at him from out the jungle. He did not stir, but feigning to be still asleep, he cautiously watched to see what all this meant. They surely did not belong to wild animals—those eyes!
He partially turned without moving his body to ascertain if the guide was still by him, but found that he was gone. There was treachery somewhere—there was danger about him—this he seemed to feel instinctively, but still, feigning sleep, he almost held his breath to listen. He soon learned by his sense of clearing that there were some half dozen or more of negroes near to him, and that he was the subject of their conversation. He could even detect his guide's voice among the rest, though the conversation was carried on scarcely above a whisper. He had on a previous voyage taken much pains to familiarize himself with the language spoken by the shore tribes in the south, and he now had little difficulty in understanding a considerable portion of the remarks which were making by the gang who were secreted in the jungle so near to where he was lying, while he pretended sleep.
He soon learned that his guide was followed by a half dozen or more of negroes, who had lately visited Sierra Leone on some business of their own, and who, in common with the guide, belonged to a fierce and warlike tribe, whose chief village was but a few leagues from Don Leonardo's factory. At first it was difficult to make out the actual purport of their scheme, though Charles Bramble could guess what he did not hear, and was satisfied that the cannibals intended to lead him, apparently in good faith, to the neighborhood of their village, where he was to be seized, sacrificed to some deity of these poor ignorant creatures' manufacture, and afterwards be eaten in council with great ceremony. All this he could distinctly make out, and certainly it was anything but agreeable to him. But Charles Bramble knew the race he had to deal with; he fully understood the fact that one after white man with his wits about him was equal to cope with a dozen of them at any time, and he felt prepared.
He gathered at once that it was their intention to guide him safely until near their own village, where they would seize upon him, and from that moment make him a prisoner. Meanwhile none but his guide was to be seen by the traveller, so it was agreed, and he was to receive care and kind attention until the time appointed. Knowing all this, of course he was prepared for it, and now saw that for the present and the few coming days, he need have no alarm, and beyond that he must trust to his ready wit, personal prowess, and the indomitable courage which was natural to him. It may seem strange, but reasoning thus, he soon fell to sleep again in good earnest.
The next morning, he met his guide with frankness, and the best of feeling seemed to prevail day after day, until suddenly one evening before night had fairly set in, and the day before he had anticipated any such attempt, the negroes suddenly fell upon him, and pinned his arms, and otherwise disabled him, so that he was completely at their mercy. Already they had arrived at the environs of their village, and into it they bore him in great triumph. Council was at once held, and it was resolved that on the morrow the prisoner should be sacrificed, and cooked, and eaten! This was anything but agreeable to our adventurer, but he did not despair. Thrusting his hand into his pack, he discovered an almanac that he had brought with him from Cuba.
Turning over the hieroglyphics and singular figures, to the wonder and amusement of the negroes, he saw that on the morrow an eclipse of the sun would take place, and he immediately resolved to turn the fact to good account. He summoned the chief of the tribe and told him to his no small amazement, in his own tongue, that to-morrow, the Great Spirit that ruled the sun would put a veil over it in displeasure at the detention of his white child by them, but that as soon as they should loose his feet and arms, and set him free, the veil would be removed.
Amazed at such an assertion, the chief consulted among his brethren, and it was agreed that if the white man's story proved true, then he should be released.
At the hour appointed on the following day, the negroes were surprised and terrified to see the gradual and almost total eclipse of the sun, and attributed it to the Great Spirit's displeasure because of their detention of the white prisoner, as he had foretold. They hastened to loose his arms and to set him on his way rejoicing. They even bore him on their shoulders for leagues in a sort of triumphal march, and did not permit him to walk until they had brought him safely and deposited him with his arms and pack before the doors of Don Leonardo!