CHAPTER XVII.
_Alonzo._ "I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely."--_Tempest._
"And this, my comrade, is that very one Who was an infant then."--_Sophocles_, translated.
"To begin, then, at the commencement I must sail back many years. I aman old man now, and have had a rough cruise through life. I was then ayoung lad just ready to be launched out on the sea of life; it is fortyyears gone by now, but I remember all as if it had happened yesterday.The Earl of Wentworth, your father, was then but just of age, and hadbeen celebrating his majority with great merry-making. On his estatesthe chief retainer was a man named Hermiston, the bailiff of the DunEdin farm; he was a stout, well-to-do sort of man, and had one only sonand two daughters: that son was me--my name was William Hermiston. Mymother had died in giving me birth, and my father and sisters spoiledme,--never contradicting me in anything, and letting me grow up as wilda young scapegrace as was in all the country round. I got into badcompany when I was about eighteen; idleness is the mother of allmischief, and so it was with me. I drank, betted, swore, and as I hadplenty of the rhino, and was hail fellow well met with every companionthat knew me, I grew worse and worse. My old father used often to say aword: he would shake his head and tell me he feared I would come to nogood with such companions, but I heeded not what the old man said, andwent on the same. In the publics I became acquainted with somehorse-racing fellows, and was soon at home in the betting way, and couldmake a book with any man. I ran into debt--or as we say at sea,outstripped the constable--they were debts of honour, and had to bepaid. My father steadily refused to refund me any more; I applied toyour father, he helped me out easily, but warned me not to expect anyfuture aid. Again I got head over ears--money must be got, and I becameacquainted with a set of wild fellows--smugglers. I had always been fondof the sea, and took to the trade readily. Full of risk and danger, itwas exactly what I liked; I rapidly made headway, paid my score, androse to be one of the leading men.
"By the time I was five-and-twenty, or thereabout, I was captain of alugger craft, and well known as a desperate fellow. When my old fatherheard of my evil doings he sternly reprimanded me for the first time inmy life. I was not able to brook censure, and told him so; he triedentreaty, all was vain. I left him and brought down his gray hairs withsorrow to the grave. My voyages were never very far, Holland was theextent of them at that time, and I had a magnet at home which kept meever coming back; this was a young and pretty girl, who lived nearMusselburgh; her name was Agnes Macgregor, and a finer lass I never saw.I had known her for years, and she had long been my sweetheart; she hadno father or mother, and her grandmother was an old, decrepit, blindwoman of seventy, so the girl was under little restraint. Many's thetime I have walked and talked with her for hours in the evenings when Iwas ashore; she did not care a straw about the illicit course of life Iled, nay, I think she thought all the better of me for it. I left her,as I was to go to Flushing first before our marriage, and promised tobring home lace enough to deck her out like a queen. I remember well howshe waved her kerchief to me as our craft put off at moonlight. Ithought on her all the way over the rough German Ocean--it was wintertime, and a bitter nor'-easter blew in our teeth, with driving sleet andhail. I reached Holland; I got the very finest lace for Agnes. I leftagain with a rich cargo, and landed in the old country. I had beenabsent some three months, winter had changed and spring set in; morethan winter had changed, too--I found woman as variable as the seasons.I went to seek her at the old house--it was empty. I inquired--they hadremoved to a cottage near the Towers. I followed, I found her out--thehussy would have nought to say to me. In vain I argued, in vain I triedto get back her heart, it was all no go. I tried to find a reason forthe change; she only gave one I would not receive--my manner of life, mybeing a smuggler. I loved that girl as I loved my own life; I offered togive up all, and seek an honest livelihood; all to no purpose, the wenchhad no more to say to me, and I was miserable.
"My Lord, you may look at my old weather-beaten features, and wonder anywoman would look at me, but I was a well-favoured youngster then. Icould put the stone, toss the caber, leap, run, and vault against anyyoung fellow in the county. I was not the sour-faced, hard-featuredseaman I am now, and I knew the girl once did love me, and dearly, and Iresolved to wait and see what the cause of quarrel really was. But I hadto put again to sea. I was away from home nearly a year and a half, butwhen I came home my ears were assailed right and left with the verything I had feared--the girl I had promised myself for a wife had beendeceived by one in the upper ranks of life; she had fallen, unable toresist the temptation of following one rich, handsome, and with a proudname--he was to be preferred as a lover, before William Hermiston as ahusband. He gave her money, handsome dresses, jewels, everything but anhonest name and fame, but she could well afford to want them if she hadall the conceits a girl's head runs on. In a word she was the dupe of anobleman. I sought the cottage where I had seen her last: the old womanwas there, not the granddaughter; from her I learned who her beguilerhad been, and where she then lived. My Lord, it was your father, theyoung Earl of Wentworth; and he had given her well-furnished apartmentsnear Edinburgh. The Earl had been married more than three years, and hehad two children, a little girl and a boy about two years: he visitedAgnes on the sly, and only occasionally.
"When I learned all this I almost died with passion. I felt a very devilof vengeance enter into my heart. The pride of my soul, the light of myeyes, my love, my destined wife, had been tempted, betrayed, and was nowliving in guilty splendour. My Lord, see the misery that light loves inhigh rank bring on the lower class. Your father was rich, powerful,noble by birth and name, possessed of lands, wife, children,--and hisevil conduct robbed the poor man of all; surely this was a case of therich man who took the poor man's lamb--the tale I used to hear ofsometimes when I was a boy. And mark the consequences--ah! you greatpeople little think the pretty and innocent girl you pick up, and deckout in finery, is perhaps the only love of some honest, poor man, whosewhole life is altered by their crime. Such was the case with me. Owingto your father's choice, I was made a very demon, and the cause ofmisery untold, not only to the hapless girl herself, but to your ownfamily. Oh! I loved that girl as I once loved heaven. I lost my heavenin her, and lose Heaven by her."
The old man here paused to rub away the unbidden tear with his roughsleeve. The Earl, deeply interested, and feeling a home thrust in thenarrative of his father's folly, bent forward, but spoke not.
"When I found out the true reason of her change, I hurried to see her.Your father had rented a cottage a short way from Edinburgh for herhome; I went there,--it was a Saturday night, I remember; I watched andsaw the Earl's carriage drive from the door. I did no more thatnight,--her guilt was now sure, and her deceiver too. On Sunday morning,when her servant was at church, I called: she opened the door, and whenshe saw me would have shut it in my face, but I pressed in. Her room waselegantly furnished; she was splendidly dressed; her dress enhanced herbeauty; she never looked more lovely; and when I thought she might havebeen mine a demon rose in my breast. I know not what I said, save that Icalled her every vile name I could think of, and she bandied high wordstoo, and bade me begone and leave her to mind herself and her baby. Ihad not dreamed of that. I turned and saw a cradle, and therein herfirstborn child; it was a fair boy, but the devil was in me. The housewas lone, every one at church, no human being near. I rushed to thecradle, and seizing the hapless babe, I dashed its infant brains outagainst the grate."
He paused: the Earl's face grew pale as he exclaimed, "Inhuman monster!you avow such a deed!"
"Ay, my Lord, reproach me, I deserve it; but see what came of stolenaffections. I shall never forget the harrowing scream of Agnes, it wasthe most awful shriek of heartbroken agony I ever heard, it rings in myears still. She then fell in a senseless swoon on the floor. The foulfiend prompted me--I heard him speak as though he was beside me--Ilooked for
a weapon--the first I saw was a carving-knife on thesideboard. I whetted it against the fender in diabolical rage--I knewnot what I did--I rushed on my prostrate victim, and--"
The wretched old sinner paused again, the drops stood on his brow, hisface was contorted with evil passions as he thought on the deed.
"You cruelly murdered her, you bloodthirsty villain," said the Earl.
"I did; I nigh severed her head from her body. Ah! that was sweetrevenge. When I had done the deed of hell I rushed from the spot as ifall the fiends chased me. There was no need--no mortal saw me, and erethe double murder was found out I was miles away. I ran for the Towers,intending to go and tell your father what I had done, and give myself upto the gallows. Life had nothing more endurable. I reached the Towersabout three in the afternoon; I asked to see the Earl on importantbusiness. He was at church; I said I would stroll about the grounds tillhe came home. I wandered by the dell at the side of the park, and,sitting down on a fallen log, began to think on my cruel deed, and itsinevitable result--the gallows. Presently I heard voices, and saw aservant-girl leading a little boy, of perhaps two years old, by thehand. She came on till she was nearly opposite me, when I heard awhistle, and saw the girl leave the child, and run to speak with a youngforester some hundred yards off, who had given the signal. A plan ofterrible revenge entered my head. I knew it was the little Viscount, theonly son of him who had wrought my misery: it was the work of a second,the thought suggested by the Evil One, and putting it into promptaction, like a boa I rushed on my prey, seized the child up in my arms,choked its cries with my kerchief, and dived into the copse-wood towardsthe burn, which was then swollen with flood: I then--"
"Hold!" said the Earl, "you were then the murderer of my eldest brother,and despite the consequences, you die for it."
He sprung up as if to wrestle with his foe. The old man moved not amuscle of his face, but exclaimed, "Are you mad? A cry from me brings ascore of ruffians. Are you crazed? I did _not_ murder your brother, Iharmed not a hair of his head."
"Then, in God's name, what did you do?"
"Patience and you shall hear; interrupt me no more."
"I could listen for ever--it rivets me. Go on--I am breathless."
"I then plunged into the burn with my burden, and waded for a hundredpaces or so; then I hid in a hollow tree and awaited the result. I heardthe nurse cry, and saw her and the youth seek everywhere in vain. Theypassed and repassed my hiding-place, and then sought down the oppositeway. I came forth and again proceeded a quarter of a mile, when Ireached an old ruin, where I stayed till gloaming came on, and thenhurried to a ken where my smuggling friends lurked. I told them noughtof the murder, but said the child was only the son of a nobleman whowished me to get rid of it. That evening I started with the boy, and wastaken on board a privateer, then in Leith Roads. My character was wellknown, and I got a place as master on board. The vessel's name was the'Black Mail.' We weighed anchor and sailed for America. It was then thetime of the French Revolution, and all the countries of Europe wereleagued against France. We kept up a half privateering, half smugglingbusiness for some years, in which I gradually rose to become the captainof the 'Black Mail.'
"About that time our country declared war against Spain, and we had arare time of it. I cared neither for my own life nor the lives of mymen; and under the name of Mad Helder--for I changed my name--I gained abloody notoriety amongst the privateering gentlemen. Our vessel was wellnamed; she was a smart little schooner, with raking masts and heavyordnance, and exacted black mail on friend and foe for seven years. Thenour vessel grew a common nuisance; we were a set of desperadoes. YoungViscount de Vere, under the name of Dick Foundling, grew up amongst sucha set a proper young rascal; he lisped oaths ere he could speak plainly;he drank gin when he should have drunk milk. He was the pet of all thecrew, had a deal of pluck in him, and learned to use knife and pistol,ere he could have reached the age of eight, as if he had been an oldhand! When he was nine, one evening we were running down for Cuba underfull sail, a British frigate, the 'Arethusa,' hove in sight, andimmediately gave chase. The 'Black Mail,' had the wind continued steady,would have laughed at her, but the breeze failed us, and the 'Arethusa'being a taller rigged vessel, caught it later than we did, and soon boredown on us. She fired a round shot across our bows, and ordered us toshow our colours. Up went our black flag, and we gave them a dose ofblack shot with it; but she was game at that, my Lord; and shot andshell she poured into us till we began to settle down. Knowing we shouldget no quarter, we stuck out, and determined to die to a man. Theyboarded us, and a terrible hand-to-hand fight we had of it. I got theslash whose scar you see across my figure head there; it stunned me; Ifell as they thought dead, and remember no more till I awoke from myswoon, found myself in the water, struck out, and soon ran foul of apiece of the wreck of the 'Black Mail,' and dragged myself aboard of it.It was a dark night, but I saw the lights of the 'Arethusa' half aleague to leeward; they had not seen me, and I had drifted away. Therewas a strong current there.
"All night I sat on the wreck; it was a warm night, and I took off partof my soaked clothes and spread them to dry. Morning came, the frigate'stop-gallants just peeped over the horizon. The sun rose hot; the bloodclotted on my brow; I was hungry, faint, parched with thirst. I drankthe salt water, it only made me worse. I strained my eyes in vain tocatch a sail. I picked up a spar during the day, and had sufficientstrength to set it up on the part of the stern on which I was left. Ispread my sailor's coat for a sail, and soon began to move! I knew norcared not where, so I drifted ashore or bore down in sight of a vessel.All that day and the next night I was left without food or water: thethirst was like fire. I began to think all was up, and I should have togive in, and actually thought of drowning myself. I had almost despairedwhen a vessel appeared; I had just strength to take off my shirt andhang it up as a signal of distress, and attracted their attention. Theypicked me up in the last extremity of existence. She proved a Britishship, a merchantman, bound from Vera Cruz to India. I told a tale ofhaving been a captain of an English ship knocked to pieces by aSpaniard, and was believed. My wound and wants were attended to, and asthe master had lately died of Yellow Jack, I got his place, for myknowledge of seamanship was great, and I knew all the currents andpilotage of the West Indian isles well, and this was what they neededthen.
"It was an evil day they took me aboard. Wild at the loss of my ship andmen, specially of young Dick Foundling, I burned to revenge it onBritish ships. I could not abide too being under orders, and I soonstirred up the sailors to mutiny. I got nearly the whole crew on myside, and we murdered the captain, officers, and all who would not joinus. Some we hung, some we tossed to the sharks, some we made walk theplank, and we pelted the skipper to death with glass bottles! I wasunanimously chosen captain. I put in at a French port under Frenchcolours, sold the cargo, and in return got aboard guns, cutlasses, andall kinds of warlike gear. Terribly did I revenge my loss. Many a noblevessel went to the bottom. We led a wild life of it for fourteen years,and then all was lost by shipwreck.
"War with America had again broken out, and I was trying to cut offEnglish vessels going up the St. Lawrence. We were chased by aman-of-war, and overtaken in one of those dense fogs. It was nearwinter, and the icebergs were frequent; the cold was awful! every seathat broke over us turned to ice; the decks were like glass. Theman-of-war sheered off, and we were tossed amidst the ice-fields, andwrecked on Labrador. We made a fire of drift-wood, and got whatprovisions we could from the wreck, but my men were frozen at the fire;a hurricane of wind almost blew away the very embers, and we commenced amarch over the frozen plains. The wolves and the frost thinned ournumbers, and I and another man only reached civilized country. The devilseemed to uphold me through everything for his own purposes, and mystrong frame seemed invincible. We, the sad relics of a crew of twohundred brave fellows, reached Nain, a small settlement, where we stayedout the dreadful winter. There was a small English man-of-war winteringthere. One of the sailors happened to have bee
n a lad on board the'Arethusa:' we got great chums, and amongst other yarns he told me thefight they had had with the 'Black Mail,' little knowing I had been itscaptain. I did not undeceive him, but I learned what I least expected,and that was the boy, your brother, had been picked up. 'He fought,' hesaid, 'like a fiend incarnate;' but by-and-by was tamed and kindlytreated by our Captain, who took a great fancy to him, and adopted himfor his own son, giving him the name of Edward L'Estrange."
"Impossible!" cried the Earl. "Edward L'Estrange my lost brother? I knowhis history now. Ha! that accounts for the singular resemblance he hadto the Captain. Heaven above! this is indeed wonderful. But go on."
"Well," said Bill, "I determined to find the youngster out; for my matecould tell me no more, as he had been drafted to another ship. So I setoff as soon as I could to Canada, intending to take a passage home, andfind if he still lived. I reached Quebec; several regiments were thenwintering there, and I thought perhaps I might learn something abouthim. There was also another reason I had for going thither. Many yearsbefore I had overhauled a Spanish ship; there was on board a rich Don,Ramond, a passenger, and he had an only child with him, Carlotta, apretty, black-eyed little wench of five years old or so. The old Don,when dying,--for he got mortally wounded,--commended this girl with hisdying breath to me, the captain of the enemy that had conquered hisship. I had a liking to the girl, and took her to America when I nextsailed there, and left her to be brought up by a sister of mine, who wasliving there with her husband. I had not seen this girl for twelveyears, and I was anxious to see if she had grown up handsome. I was thenknown by the name of Bill Stacy, or Dare-devil Bill, and the girl hadbeen called Antonia Stacy.
"Part of the Rifle Brigade was then at Quebec, and I heard there was anofficer, Lieutenant L'Estrange, there. On inquiries I found out it wasthe same one I was seeking. He had been educated by the CommodoreL'Estrange, who had bought him a commission in the army; and he hadalready fought in the Peninsula. I found Antonia grown a handsome girlof seventeen; and I thought I should like to bring about a marriagebetween them. I enlisted in the same regiment, and in two years hadrisen to be a serjeant. I told L'Estrange so much of my history as tolet him know I only was able to give him a clue to his early life, wraptin mystery; and I introduced him to Antonia. But the two did not cottontogether. There was another young man in the same regiment, named GeorgeRavensworth, who greatly admired my protegee. He had picked her out ofthe St. Lawrence when her boat couped one evening. I told him she was ofthe very best blood in Spain; and, as I was anxious to get a goodhusband for her, and the two loved each other so well, I should not haveminded their getting spliced. But our battalion was ordered to NewOrleans, where we made an unsuccessful attempt to take the place; andthere young Ravensworth took Yellow Jack and died. He and L'Estrangewere the greatest chums possible; and his death nigh broke two hearts.He begged L'Estrange to carry a few relics to his bereaved family; andhe said he would.
"War was then over; peace with America declared; and our men reachedEurope in time for the grand final success of Wellington at Waterloo.After the Peace of Paris we came home. I got my discharge and settlednear Brighton. I got to my old ways, and Bill Stacy's cabin was as wellknown as the Pavilion. L'Estrange had exchanged into the 7th Hussarsbefore Waterloo; they were quartered at Edinburgh. He took the sword ofGeorge Ravensworth to his sister, a fine girl of sixteen. By-and-by theywere engaged to marry; but your Lordship best knows why that marriagenever came off! Part of the 7th were at Brighton. Amongst otherofficers, whom my tobacco, wines, or Antonia magnetized, was John deVere, who now lies dead beside us. He met me in a row in Brighton, inwhich Sir Richard Musgrave joined, and used to get wines and tobacco toa great extent from the cabin.
"When L'Estrange found Ellen Ravensworth had jilted him for yourLordship, he was very miserable, and came one night to ask my counsel onhis best proceedings. That night Captain de Vere was with me, and Icould have laughed in my sleeve to see the brothers sitting so near, andyet not knowing their relationship. They were so like that it was a jokein the regiment; but the Captain was the firmest in character, and soonovercame L'Estrange's scruples, and we made our first plot to preventyour Lordship's union with the present Countess. Our plan was to setAntonia in your way; we knew your weakness for the other sex, anddetermined to storm you on the salient angle. Your marriage was gall andwormwood to your brother De Vere; and this was his reason for combatingit. Antonia was dressed, and taught her part; apartments opposite yourhouse chosen; and the Captain drew your attention to her. You know therest. Under the name of Juana Ferraras she was imposed on you. It was adouble cheat; she was assured she would become a Countess, or wouldnever have submitted; and we hoped your Lordship would take such a fancyto her as to take her with you to Scotland, when we would threaten toprove a Scotch marriage; and we knew you would rather remain unwed thanacknowledge it; so that Ellen Ravensworth would be free to return toL'Estrange, and the Captain would have no family to cut him out of thetitle. We then put a paragraph in the papers, stating your marriagewould soon take place with Lady Alice Claremont, the Marquis's sister,thinking it would disgust Miss Ravensworth. The bait took; and shenearly died, as you know; but, unluckily for us, she met the Marchionessabroad, and all the murder came out. Your Lordship, too, grew tired ofJuana, and the first plot proved a total failure. But the Captain hadmore than one string to his bow, and we began a second one."
The old man paused, and again had recourse to the pigskin of wine. TheEarl hid his face in his hands to conceal his emotions, at thus findingout what a system of deceit, treachery, espionage had been carried on bythose he had loved, and did not even dream capable of such duplicity!The mystery was gradually being cleared up; the complicationsunravelled; and he saw things in a new light. He felt angry at havingbeen made, as it were, a catspaw; sorry that he had given zest to theirwickedness by his own weakness; and a feeling of uncontrollable disgustat the narrator was only veiled by his interest in the story, and hisdesire to know how all would end. He dared not speak his suspicions, andyet he felt sure they would all be verified; so he determined to listen,but ask no questions.
After a slight pause, as if to rest, the old man resumed his story; butas his yarn is altogether too long for one chapter, we must divide itinto two, being well aware, from personal experience, that long chaptersweary the reader, whilst the same amount of narrative, subdivided withdiscretion, is less apt to pall, or become tedious to the peruser.
The Weird of the Wentworths: A Tale of George IV's Time, Vol. 2 Page 17