CHAPTER VIII.
"Ye, that the rising morn invidious mark, And hate the light--because your deeds are dark." _Pleasures of Hope._
"Ye are baith a pair o' the deevil's peats, I trow--hard token whilk deserves the hettest corner o' his ingle side."--_Heart of Mid Lothian._
We left L'Estrange waiting at the door of Stacy's cabin; he heard thebolts within being unbarred, and in another moment the door was openedby Bill himself, who beckoned L'Estrange to enter without even saying aword of recognition, and no sooner had admitted his guest than he beganagain to bar the door. Bill was somewhat beneath the average height, butthis was fully compensated for by his immense breadth of chest, andprodigious physical strength. His hair was lank, black, and matted downon his head; beneath his shaggy eyebrows gleamed piercing grey eyes; hewore neither beard nor moustache, but his whiskers formed what iscommonly called a "hangman's collar," and were jagged and dusty withsnuff. In his early days Bill's features had not been ill-looking, buttime, and a life of hardship and exposure, had made sad ravages. Hisface was bloated by constant use of intoxicating liquors, weather-beatenby a seafaring life, and bronzed by exposure to a fierce tropical sun.There was something brutal in his manners, sinister and forbidding inhis appearance. His brow was disfigured by a ghastly scar, and helooked, what he was in reality, a pirate and smuggler. He was dressed insailor's costume, a sou'-wester on his head, and a rough pilot jacketbuttoned closely round his broad chest. In his mouth he carried a smallblack cutty pipe, and wore on one of the little fingers of his largetanned hand a diamond ring of immense value.
Whilst this worthy was securing his door, L'Estrange found his way alonga dark, narrow passage to old Stacy's storeroom. It was a long,low-roofed chamber, dimly lighted by a ship lamp, which swung from theceiling, and shed its flickering beams on a strange and variedassortment of smuggled goods. There was only one window, or ratherlattice, with small diamond-shaped panes of glass; it was now unsparred,and this had been the light which guided L'Estrange to the door. On thedusky walls hung cutlasses, pistols, and other deadly instruments ofwarfare, and beneath them were ranged rows of barrels, cases of tobacco,bales of muslin, and other foreign goods, all contraband, and scatteredhere and there in inextricable confusion. In the corner of the roomfurthest off a huge mastiff, chained to an empty barrel, which servedfor its kennel, kept guard over the cabin, and as L'Estrange entered,sprang out to the full length of his chain, growling and barking in themost ferocious manner, and displaying, at the same time, a set ofsplendid teeth and four terrible fangs. Woe to the intruder who camewithin chain's length of Fury! It was not, however, the strange medley,nor the desperate look of the apartment, nor the bandog's ire that madeL'Estrange start back as if an adder had bitten him--no, it was none ofthese, he had seen them all before, often and often had he heard thewatchdog's challenge. It was another inmate of this den--a face he sawwhere least he had expected to see it--which made our hero start back!Seated before the fire, which was made of drift-wood, on a barrel ofgunpowder with the lid half broken off, displaying the deadly dust toview, sat a young man smoking a small black pipe, mounted in silver. Ifthis pipe has not already betrayed him, our reader will at oncerecognize him from his short black hair, fierce moustache, and bold darkeye, to be none other than Captain de Vere. Beside him was a small roundoak table, on which stood a silver tankard, holding a gallon of strongale; a bottle of illicit whiskey, with the cork drawn; two toddyglasses, with silver spoons inside them, and several smaller glasses; onthe floor lay a corkscrew with a cork still in it. The Captain sat withhis eyes bent on the ground, smoking abstractedly, and would probablynot have noticed the intruder had it not been for Fury's angry growl. Hepicked up a piece of drift-wood lying on the hearth, and, glancingtowards the enraged animal, exclaimed, "Be still, you black devil," atthe same time hurling the piece of wreck, which struck the animal aheavy blow, and sent it howling with pain into its barrel again. Havingstilled the dog, the Captain next turned round to see the intruder. IfL'Estrange was surprised to see De Vere, no less so was the Captain tosee him there.
For some seconds they stared at each other without speaking a word; atlast the Captain broke silence by exclaiming: "Well! I'm blowed," at thesame time emptying the burning ashes of his pipe on the top of thebarrel with the utmost nonchalance. Had one spark fallen into thepowder, no one in that room would have ever lived to tell the tale!
"You will be _blowed_ if you don't take care," replied L'Estrange,shuddering with horror at the careless action.
"A truce to your puns, and tell me what in the name of heaven hasbrought you to such a place at such an hour?"
"I might ask the same question of you, De Vere. I came, however, to seeStacy on some private business."
"So you have steered for old Bill, have you?"
"And what in the name of the foul fiend had you to say to me, mymessmate?" muttered the old man, who had since entered the apartment.
"I had much to see you about, Bill--some private business of thegreatest consequence."
"Private business be hanged," shouted the Captain, "there are no secretshere; was it with the black-eyed Antonia your private business lay, eh,L'Estrange?"
"No, De Vere, it was on very different matters I wanted Bill's advice."
"Bill's advice--a good one--his advice is the fiend's own counsel," saidthe Captain, disregarding Bill's angry look, who exclaimed, "And if hewants my advice, why shouldn't he have it, you scoundrel?"
"Stow that, old badger," interrupted the Captain. "Stow that, Bill; nobrawling, remember; but I say again, d--n all secrets--out with it, Ned,you know me, I am no sieve."
"But, De Vere, this concerns your own family. I cannot tell it to youyet--by-and-by I may--not now."
"And why not now? If it concerns my family who has a better right toknow it? and if I am to know it some day, why not now?"
L'Estrange still hesitated.
"Hark you," said the Captain, rising flushed with anger, and strikingthe table such a blow with his clenched hand as set all the glasseswaltzing, "you shall trifle with me no more: I wish to know that secret,and by heaven I will! Look you here, my fine fellow, no one saw you comein here, and devil a one shall see you go out, unless you turf yoursecret! it is as safe with me as with Bill, and unless I know it, younever leave this room living."
His whole frame seemed to dilate with passion as he shouted, rather thanspoke, these words.
"Out with it, Ned; devil a fear of the Cap's turning traitor, he willrap through right and wrong," said old Bill Stacy.
L'Estrange knowing the desperate character of these two men, and feelingsure they would feel small scruples in fulfilling their threat, shouldhe longer hesitate, thought the best part of valour was discretion, andtold them he would make a clean breast of it.
"But, remember, De Vere," said he, "you force me to do it, and you mustnot grow wrath if you don't like it."
"Small fear of that," said the Captain, reseating himself on the barrel."Come here, Ned, sit down, make yourself comfortable first. What willyou have? ale--whiskey--or old Tom? all here."
"Some whiskey; I am partial to it, I don't know why."
"And capital whiskey it is," said the Captain, pouring him out a glass;"trust Bill for good spirits! And now for the tale; cut along, Ned."
Having emptied his glass, L'Estrange commenced his narrative, and made,as he said, a clean breast of it. During the recital, to have judged bythe looks of the two desperates, you would have fancied they had littleor no interest in it, and vastly preferred their pipes and the frequentdrams they drank; but it was far otherwise, and thoughtless as theylooked they were both drinking in every word, sifting every phrase, andturning over the whole in their minds. It was some time ere L'Estrangefinished, and a long time elapsed before another word was spoken. TheCaptain broke silence and said, as he tossed off another dram--
"So ho! sets the wind that way? I thought as much. You love a prettygirl--and she is
pretty too--she loves you. My brother comes in--shelikes him better--jilts you, and no wonder; most girls would prefer acoronet, when they can get one, to none. And you want to get her back,that's all. Is that your fine secret? Why, Lord bless me, you might haveproclaimed that in the market-place."
The Captain laughed bitterly.
"No, that's not all, you forget if your brother marries _your_ hopes ofa coronet are for ever gone too."
"Egad," said the Captain, using his favourite expression, "you are rightthere, Ned; I never thought of that! True, I'd as lief see Wentworthbeneath the sod as married. But what is that to you? if the girl don'tlike you--if she likes him better--you won't get her back. I know thesex well; let one of them take a thing into their heads and they willmove heaven and earth till they get it. If Ellen Ravensworth has takenit into her head to be a countess, she is safe to be so, despite you andme, Ned. But you are sure Wentworth gave her that ring?"
"Sure as death."
"Ha! that looks bad! And what are you going to do?"
"That is what I came here for, to find out--that is exactly what I don'tknow--can you assist me? Let's hear what you can devise, Bill."
"Look you--this here is my advice, trap him--snare 'im--net him--setanother girl in his way--a springe to catch woodcocks--eh Ned? get himto marry another girl--get the lass to forget him!"
"Sage advice that, you muddle-pated idiot--that would be a joke!Wentworth marry another--if he must marry, why the devil not EllenRavensworth? Well, you are a greater fool than I took you for, Bill."
Stacy gave an angry grunt when he saw his error.
"No, no! Wentworth must not marry, that's flat!"
"How will you prevent him, De Vere?"
"How prevent him? lots of ways! If the thing depended on suchthickheaded fools as you and Bill, you would want your lass, as theScotch say, and Wentworth would _not_ want his. But, thank heaven, youhave a wily customer in me, and if I don't bring matters straight callme a fool--an idiot! Now what do you think of this?" he continued, andfor several minutes, in a low voice, whispered some dark plan or scheme.The changing expression of L'Estrange's face from gloom and doubt, tillat last, when the Captain ceased, he exclaimed with joy, "Bravo! welldone! it is the counsel of a Nestor," showed he at least thought well ofit, and augured its success.
"You're a gallows bird--a crafty old fox--a rascally dog, you are," saidBill; "and what, my hearty, if I refuse, what if Bill says his daughtershan't?"
"Then I say I'll twist your neck, you old smuggler, and rid the world ofsuch a scoundrel, and be thanked for doing so! that's what I say; so youhad best comply."
"Ye dursn't, you dog."
"Daren't I?" said the Captain, springing up from his seat. "Dead dogstell no tales, and why should I not? I dare anything--I neither fear Godnor regard man--I fear neither angel, spirit, nor devil! and think you Ifear an old rascal like you?"
Some terrible catastrophe might have happened had it not been forL'Estrange, who saw they were both inflamed with drink; he interposedhimself between the brawlers, and tried to make peace by insisting onthe Captain accompanying him home, and Bill's appeasing his wrath,saying they had been there quite long enough; the plan was a famousone, and if they left Bill to himself he would soon come round to it.
Muttering indistinct oaths and curses old Bill unbarred the door oncemore, and let the two friends--if we may so call them--out. TakingL'Estrange's arm, the Captain proceeded with him across the bleakcommon.
"Are you not glad you told me all, you unbelieving fellow?"
"I am. I hope it will succeed."
"Sure to succeed. By-the-by, how did you come out here? marched like me,I suppose, and a cold tramp we shall have of it," said the Captain,buttoning up his coat.
"No, I rode out."
"Rode, and where the deuce did you leave your horse? If you left it onthe common, ten to one some dog of a smuggler has noosed it."
"Never you fear, I brought my man with me, and he is taking care ofthem."
"He rode too? aha, then, I can ride his nag for him--it will save thegrind; that'll do nicely," said the Captain, quickening his pace andadvancing to where the man and horses stood. "By Gad he's asleep; I'llfreshen him up," said he, laying his riding-whip pretty smartly acrossthe Irishman's shoulders.
When Pat had smoked out his pipe, and found he had no more tobacco toreplenish it with, again anathematizing L'Estrange for his nocturnalfreaks, he dismounted, and leaning against his charger's side, whichproved a capital defence against the cold south-easter that blew chillyover the downs, still white with snow, he actually fell asleep; and indreamland once more visited his emerald isle, green Erin, and likeCampbell's dreaming soldier, hastened to his wife's embrace, and vowedhe would leave them no more for a soldier's life! Poor Pat's dream wassomewhat rudely broken by the blow of De Vere's whip. Rubbing his eyeshe looked round to see his disturber.
"Rouse up, you sleepy dog," said the Captain, as his lash againdescended--"rouse up and hold the stirrup for me."
Mechanically the Irishman obeyed, knowing the Captain of old, and he hadthe mortification of beholding him firmly seated on his horse, and assoon as L'Estrange was mounted they both set off at full gallop towardsBrighton, the Captain telling him he might get back the best way hecould, and that a double quick would warm him after his slumbers.
"Divil resave 'em for a set of thieves," cried the enraged Paddy, assoon as his tormentor was gone. "A pretty trick to play an honestman--ill luck to 'em both." He then began his solitary plod home overthe bleak plains. "An' they niver thought I might be murthered, and noteven a dhrap of the rale good stuff to keep the cold out have they leftme--ill luck to 'em." With such kindly expressions Pat Malony cheeredhis way, and after a four mile trudge, reached the barracks at pastthree in the morning; and as he could not, or would not give an accountof himself he was placed in guard for absence without leave, untilL'Estrange released him from his prison and comforted the son of Erin'soffended pride by a sovereign, for which piece of generosity he wasrewarded by as many blessings as he had received cursings the previousnight, and assured of Pat's willingness to endure fifty such nightlyperambulations.
The Weird of the Wentworths: A Tale of George IV's Time, Vol. 1 Page 8