“Will you continue your course to land, or will you aid us in trying to overtake this bold privateer?”
“Oh! sir, most gladly will I accompany you,” replied the captain of the Mercury, and calling his sailors on board, the “Vulture” soon spread its wings for full flight in the direction of the foe, till when the sun broke suddenly through the mist, he called aloud to Drummond, “There she lies, see! still at the side of my vessel.”
On looking in the direction pointed out, William perceived a small schooner, and at its side a vessel with three masts, both about half a mile distant. “Down with the main-sail!” he commanded, and soon the “Vulture” dashed so quickly through the water, as to tremble at its keel. Meanwhile the captain of the “Mercury” stood with spy-glass in hand, scarcely able to restrain his impatience, till suddenly dropping it, he muttered, “too late! too late! The ship lies deeper in the water than it did a minute ago. Gracious Heavens! they are sinking it;” and as Drummond caught up a glass, he observed that the masts of the bark moved violently backwards and forwards, and presently the whole vessel disappeared beneath the surface of the water.
“Up, my men, prepare the vessel for combat,” cried William, passionately; “yonder fellow shall repent this shameful act.” His orders were obeyed with the greatest promptness, while the privateer, on her part, filled her top-sail and appeared ready to maneuver. As soon the captain of the Vulture had appeared so near as cannon shot, he hoisted the British flag and let fly a few balls, which sunk at some fathoms from the bow-sprit of the privateer. These were quickly returned by a girdle of fire, above which was hoisted the American flag.
“Stand fast by your guns,” cried Drummond. as splinters from the masts and shreds of canvass told of the enemy’s successful shot; while, without noticing it, the Vulture still pressed its way through the deep, until it stood at only musket-shot distance from the foe. A regular cannonade now ensued, and lasted almost half an hour, while neither vessel changed its position more than the length of its cable. Now and then a puff of wind blew aside the misty veil which enveloped both barks, and then might be seen the devastation which had been committed. The shots of the privateer had been directed pretty high; indeed it was easy to see that its captain sought to render his adversary as incapable as possible of maneuver, for all the yards were hung with tattered canvass and cordage, and had the American sought to escape, the Vulture would have found it difficult to follow her, though the former had received some little injuries in the trunk and netting sails. The ships now falling off on the wind, glided slowly side by side, streams of fire playing from their flanks.
“Yonder man understands his business well;” observed Drummond to the captain, his companion, “it is a pity he was not engaged in a better cause. But let us approach him nearer, our calibre is stronger than his, and we will fire low, so as to produce a good leak if possible; yet never have I seen the smoke thus lie on the poop. Port the helm! Close on the larboard; and now for your pistols, the matter must have an end.”
The noise of the combat was now indeed fearful. The roar of the cannon-shots; the whizzing of the bullets; the splinters of wood which flew in every direction; the cries of the wounded; all together formed a Babel-like scene, and the fight had raged for almost an hour, when suddenly one of the masts of the privateer, struck by a ball, fell with a loud crash. A loud “hurrah” from the Vulture proclaimed the victory; but to the command to lower the flag, the Gray Shark only returned a fresh cannonade. The Vulture now shot on the beak of the privateer, and on both sides preparations for boarding were made; the firing ceased; and all hands seized on muskets, sabres and axes. Already had a couple of sailors of the Vulture thrown out ropes, when springing to the poop, Drummond exclaimed, “cut that rope, let the ship drive on, there is fire in the privateer.”
His command was immediately obeyed; and, presently a stream of fire shot up from the deck of the foe; a cloud of smoke rose from its body, even to the top-masts; and a fearful crash so compressed the surrounding air, as to toss over the British vessel on its side; while as the black volumes dispersed, they could perceive that the place where the privateer laid was now empty and unoccupied, though masses of wreck floated all around on the heaving waters.
“Let us steer in the direction of the wreck, and rescue some of the crew if possible,” commanded the captain of the second mate; but before the Schooner could reach the spot, the struggling sailors, had all disappeared, except one, who still combatted with the waves.
“He lives! yonder is the Captain of the Privateer!” and as Drummond looked in the same direction, and gazed on the face of the drowning man as the waves closed over him, he shrieked aloud, “Oh, my God!’ my God! Let down a boat! Save him! it is no other than—;” and unable to articulate another word, he was obliged to lean against the side of the vessel, while several sailors immediately obeyed his orders, though without success, since the body had sunk to rise no more. Hardly in a situation to extend any directions to his crew, with tottering steps, Drummond reached the cabin; whereat throwing himself on a chair, he covered his face with his hands, as if to banish the fearful remembrance. “No! it is impossible! It could not have been John. My beloved brother would not have directed his cannon against the flag of old England. And yet that face was so like his. Gracious heavens! what am I to think?” then rising quickly, he paced up and down the apartment, muttering aloud. “No! I feel certain that I am mistaken. It must have been someone who greatly resembled him. How could I determine in that momentary glance.” And thus he sought to quiet his dark forebodings, till on the next day, they arrived in sight of Long Island.
On reaching New York, Drummond made enquiries in every direction, to discover who was the captain of “Gray Shark;” and though the information was very uncertain, he learned one fact which somewhat quieted his restless spirit, namely, that he was an Englishman by the name of John Walker. Soon, however, fresh doubts tormented him; for what was more natural than that his brother should change his name in taking part with the rebels, since as an American, if he could sustain that disguise, he would be treated less severely if taken prisoner. With his feelings wound up to the highest pitch, William determined to resort to the last expedient for discovering the truth, and accordingly wrote to the house in Boston, with whom John had entered into the contract as Captain. What was his disappointment, when on the subsequent day, he was summoned to appear before Admiral Howe, who informed him, that he wished him to sail immediately for England. “A committee of Congress,” said he, “consisting of Franklin, John Adams and Edward Rutledge, have presented themselves before me to offer a treaty, which they believe will prove advantageous to both countries, I must however have instructions, and full power for acting, and as your ship is a quick sailer, I trust to see you back in three months, or at the least ten weeks. You will receive your despatches in the course of two hours.”
Although Drummond was gratified by the duty assigned him, as well as by a hint from one of Lord Howe’s adjutants, that the Admiral had recommended him to the British ministers for promotion, yet to depart before receiving an answer from Boston, was most distressing. He felt hardly able to endure the long months of agonizing uncertainty. Day and night, yes, even in his dreams, the pale, deadly face of the drowning seaman rose before him; and it was well that the anxieties attendant on a stormy passage, somewhat detached his mind from the one absorbing fear.
On reaching London, he learned that the business on which he had been sent, could not be determined in less than ten days; and taking advantage of the time, he hastened to Wales, and reached his native village on the midnight of the second day. A beautiful moonlight shone on the traveller, as he rode rapidly along the avenue of fruit trees leading to the parsonage, but what was his surprise, when on stopping at the gate, he discovered a large and newly built house, standing in the midst of the shrubbery, while the mansion, where he was born, was already unroofed, the sashes taken out, and the whole apparently about to be pulled to pieces.
> Overcome by varied emotions, William now dismounted from his horse, relieved him of his saddle, and passing through a side gate, which was only fastened by a button, led the animal into the stable, then entering the garden, he roamed up and down its narrow walks, yielding to the remembrances of his boyhood, and quite undetermined whether to arouse his parent or not. “It is almost a pity to disturb them at this untimely hour,” he said; “in a short time dawn will break, and the night is so calm and beautiful that I can sleep here as well as at the foot of the mast.” With these words, he took his seat on the stone bench beneath the ancient yew trees and was soon fast asleep.
He might have slumbered a half hour, when he was aroused by a dream, and on opening his eyes, what was his surprise to see a lady seated on the bench beside him. On looking at her, he perceived that she was about forty years of age; and although her face was very pale and rather expressionless, yet she was by no means unhandsome.
Supposing her some acquaintance of his parents, then on a visit at their house, who had been probably induced by the summer temperature to enjoy the cool air of the garden, he politely observed, “You are perhaps surprised, Madam, to find a stranger intruding here at this time.”
“No!” was her brief reply.
“I am William Drummond. Do my parents expect me?” was his next question.
“I know it. They do.”
“Have you been long here?
“Yes! a long while.”
“I am astonished that my father never mentioned you in his letters.”
“Perhaps he did.”
“And I am also greatly delighted to find this comfortable new residence so superior to the old.”
“I reside in the old.”
“Indeed, why it seems almost pulled down.”
“At least I will remain in it as long as it stands.”
The young man was rather unpleasantly affected by the stranger’s brief, unceremonious manner, but anxious to learn further, he observed, “excuse me, Madam, if I inquire whether my father has learned through the papers, or any other way, the news of a conflict between my vessel, the “Vulture,” and an American privateer? I am exceedingly anxious to learn the name of the man who commanded the latter.”
“He will know all tomorrow,” observed the woman in a hollow tone. “The Captain’s name was John Drummond.”
“Gracious Heavens! are you sure of it?” cried William, springing up; but ere he could utter another word, the figure had vanished away. “Am I awake or dreaming,” he continued after a long pause, during which he looked wildly around him,” and yet all is so real; so life-like! What if I am losing my senses?. Surely I was not asleep! My mind seemed as awake as at this moment,” and with such doubts he tormented himself, till at daydawn he heard a window unbolted, and rushing into the house, was soon clasped in the arms of his delighted, but trembling parents.
After several enquiries, William ventured to ask when they had last heard from his brother, and a hundred weight seemed to fall from his breast, on being informed that his last letter, dated from Boston, mentioned that he had taken command of a vessel about to sail for the Southern ocean, and that they must feel no uneasiness, should they hear nothing for a long period.
Mrs. Drummond now turned the conversation to their new residence, which she described as being most convenient in every respect; adding, that the old parsonage was to be pulled down in a few days.
“Dear Mother! was it not a strange notion to let it out to a lodger!” asked her son, immediately recalling his midnight companion.
“I know of no lodgers but the mice, which I trust will not follow me into my new home, by reason of hammering in the old.”
“No! no! I mean the lady whom I met last night sitting under the Yew-tree, and with whom I had some conversation.”
The parents looked astonished at each other, while the mother exclaimed, “we have no lodger, who could this have been, and when their son described the interview, they both declared that he must have been dreaming, and with his memory refreshed by revisiting the home of his boyhood, had probably mingled the legend of “the Gray Lady” in his drowsy visions.
William was almost ready to believe that their surmise might be true; and engrossed in subjects of mutual interest among which William’s adventures at sea were not forgotten, the day past till at evening a servant came in with a package of letters, among which the pastor immediately recognised the hand writing of a friend in Liverpool.
Breaking it open, he commenced reading its contents, but presently it fell from his hands, and sinking back into his chair, he exclaimed, “Father in Heaven! It is too much! Too much!”
“For God’s sake! what ails you?” cried William, as he sprang to the old man’s assistance.
“Read this, my poor, unhappy son!” was the only reply.
William picked up the sheet and read as follows:
“Dear Friend—I regret to be the herald of most unhappy news. Jenkins & Son inform me, that they have just received a letter from Hudson & Co., Boston, who beg them to forward to you the following intelligence. You are aware that the above mentioned Boston house, some time since employed the services of your son, John Drummond, as Captain of one of their vessels equipped for the Southern Ocean. As the blockade of Boston, however, took place before the vessel could sail, Drummond, who favored the cause of the Americans, took command of the privateer Gray Shark instead, and changing his name to John Walker, so as to conceal his disloyalty from his parents until the end of the war, he bore many prizes into port, and was greatly valued by the Americans. The Gray Shark being lately engaged in conflict with the royal cruiser, the Vulture, was blown up from a cannon shot, which entered into his hold, and your son, together with every one on board, perished.”
Thus was the unhappy truth established, which William had so long hoped might prove otherwise. His twin brother, the companion of his childhood, the friend, whose course he had so anxiously watched for many years, to be thus doomed to death through his means! Ah! he felt that the legend was too true, that his midnight companion was not the visitant of a disturbed dream!
We will not attempt to describe the mournful hours that ensued. The mother sat overwhelmed with grief; the old pastor’s face grew almost stern, as he sought to repress his anguish; while unable to restrain his burst of agony, the hapless William lamented himself loudly and continually as the cause of his brother’s untimely fate. “Nay, it was Providence, I will not say fate, which has caused this dreadful event,” said the father, pressing his son’s hand in his.
William tried to believe it, but it was long before he could be comforted.
In the course of a few days, he set off for Plymouth, there to receive the orders to be conveyed to America, and on reaching Lord Howe’s fleet, he found all so actively engaged, as to induce him to take a part in the conflict himself till the war ended; when he returned to his native land, where his parents were still alive. On reaching Liverpool the notary put into his hands his brother’s will, by which he found himself sole heir to a considerable fortune. He was deeply affected by its last paragraph, where John entreated him to sue for Eliza Barlow’s hand, if she still remained unmarried.
It must be allowed that the young Captain’s thoughts had often secretly turned to this early and only object of his affection, but since this brother’s disappointment, he had never felt it right to build his happiness on his ill fortune. Now that the wish was so clearly specified in this his last testament, he determined to yield to the fervent inclinations of his heart, and on making anxious enquiries concerning the maiden, he learned that she was still unmarried and contrived to win an introduction by writing to her and laying before her John’s will. Her reply was highly satisfactory, for she referred him to her uncle, Mr. Barlow, who viewing the matter as a business affair, expressed himself well satisfied by her choice, and not only bestowed on her a rich portion on the occasion of her marriage, which took place in a few months, but left her a large fortune at his death.
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Immediatelv after their union, the young couple set off for Wales, where the inmates of the new parsonage bestowed on their third daughter-in-law a most affectionate welcome. The site of the old house was now occupied by a garden; and as William led his bride to the seat beneath the yew tree, whose trunk was now decayed and crumbling with age, he related to her the legend, which was connected with the torn-down dwelling, and they wept together over the fate of the luckless John.
THE EBONY FRAME, by Edith Nesbit
To be rich is a luxurious sensation—the more so when you have plumbed the depths of hard-up-ness as a Fleet Street hack, a picker-up of unconsidered pars, a reporter, an unappreciated journalist—all callings utterly inconsistent with one’s family feeling and one’s direct descent from the Dukes of Picardy.
When my Aunt Dorcas died and left me seven hundred a year and a furnished house in Chelsea, I felt that life had nothing left to offer except immediate possession of the legacy. Even Mildred Mayhew, whom I had hitherto regarded as my life’s light, became less luminous. I was not engaged to Mildred, but I lodged with her mother, and I sang duets with Mildred, and gave her gloves when it would run to it, which was seldom. She was a dear good girl, and I meant to marry her some day. It is very nice to feel that a good little woman is thinking of you—it helps you in your work—and it is pleasant to know she will say “Yes” when you say “Will you?”
But, as I say, my legacy almost put Mildred out of my head, especially as she was staying with friends in the country just then.
The Second Macabre Megapack Page 4