by Bram Stoker
“Are you going to stand anything to drink,” said Jack, “my old buffer? Do you recollect where you got your knob scuttled off Beyrout — how you fell on your latter end and tried to recollect your church cateckis, you old brute? — I’s ashamed of you. Do you recollect the brown girl you bought for thirteen bob and a tanner, at the blessed Society Islands, and sold her again for a dollar, to a nigger seven feet two, in his natural pumps? you’re a nice article, you is, to talk of marines and swabs, and shore-going lubbers, blow yer. Do you recollect the little Frenchman that told ye he’d pull your blessed nose, and I advised you to soap it? do you recollect Sall at Spithead, as you got in at a port hole of the state cabin, all but her behind?”
“Death and the devil!” said the admiral, breaking from the grasp of Mr. Chillingworth.
“Ay,” said Jack, “you’ll come to ‘em both one of these days, old cock, and no mistake.”
“I’ll have his life, I’ll have his life,” roared the admiral.
“Nay, nay, sir,” said Mr. Chillingworth, catching the admiral round the waist. “My dear sir, recollect, now, if I may venture to advise you, Admiral Bell, there’s a lot of that fiery hollands you know, in the next room; set firm down to that, and finish him off. I’ll warrant him, he’ll be quiet enough.”
“What’s that you say?” cried Jack — ”hollands! — who’s got any? — next to rum and Elizabeth Baker, if I has an affection, it’s hollands.”
“Jack!” said the admiral.
“Ay, ay, sir!” said Jack, instinctively.
“Come this way.”
Jack staggered after him, and they all reached the room where the admiral and Mr. Chillingworth had been sitting before the alarm.
“There!” said the admiral, putting the light upon the table, and pointing to the bottle; “what do you think of that?”
“I never thinks under such circumstances,” said Jack. “Here’s to the wooden walls of old England!”
He seized the bottle, and, putting its neck into his mouth, for a few moments nothing was heard but a gurgling sound of the liquor passing down his throat; his head went further and further back, until, at last, over he went, chair and bottle and all, and lay in a helpless state of intoxication on the floor.
“So far, so good,” said the admiral. “He’s out of the way, at all events.”
“I’ll just loosen his neckcloth,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “and then we’ll go and sit somewhere else; and I should recommend that, if anywhere, we take up our station in that chamber, once Flora’s, where the mysterious panelled portrait hangs, that bears so strong a resemblance to Varney, the vampyre.”
“Hush!” said the admiral. “What’s that?”
They listened for a moment intently; and then, distinctly, upon the gravel path outside the window, they heard a footstep, as if some person were walking along, not altogether heedlessly, but yet without any very great amount of caution or attention to the noise he might make.
“Hist!” said the doctor. “Not a word. They come.”
“What do you say they for?” said the admiral.
“Because something seems to whisper me that Mr. Marchdale knows more of Varney, the vampyre, than ever he has chosen to reveal. Put out the light.”
“Yes, yes — that’ll do. The moon has risen; see how it streams through the chinks of the shutters.”
“No, no — it’s not in that direction, or our light would have betrayed us. Do you not see the beams come from that half glass-door leading to the greenhouse?”
“Yes; and there’s the footstep again, or another.”
Tramp, tramp came a footfall again upon the gravel path, and, as before, died away upon their listening ears.
“What do you say now,” said Mr. Chillingworth — ”are there not two?”
“If they were a dozen,” said the admiral, “although we have lost one of our force, I would tackle them. Let’s creep on through the rooms in the direction the footsteps went.”
“My life on it,” said Mr. Chillingworth as they left the apartment, “if this be Varney, he makes for that apartment where Flora slept, and which he knows how to get admission to. I’ve studied the house well, admiral, and to get to that window any one from here outside must take a considerable round. Come on — we shall be beforehand.”
“A good idea — a good idea. Be it so.”
Just allowing themselves sufficient light to guide them on the way from the lantern, they hurried on with as much precipitation as the intricacies of the passage would allow, nor halted till they had reached the chamber were hung the portrait which bore so striking and remarkable a likeness to Varney, the vampyre.
They left the lamp outside the door, so that not even a straggling beam from it could betray that there were persons on the watch; and then, as quietly as foot could fall, they took up their station among the hangings of the antique bedstead, which has been before alluded to in this work as a remarkable piece of furniture appertaining to that apartment.
“Do you think,” said the admiral, “we’ve distanced them?”
“Certainly we have. It’s unlucky that the blind of the window is down.”
“Is it? By Heaven, there’s a d — — d strange-looking shadow creeping over it.”
Mr. Chillingworth looked almost with suspended breath. Even he could not altogether get rid of a tremulous feeling, as he saw that the shadow of a human form, apparently of very large dimensions, was on the outside, with the arms spread out, as if feeling for some means of opening the window.
It would have been easy now to have fired one of the pistols direct upon the figure; but, somehow or another, both the admiral and Mr. Chillingworth shrank from that course, and they felt much rather inclined to capture whoever might make his appearance, only using their pistols as a last resource, than gratuitously and at once to resort to violence.
“Who should you say that was?” whispered the admiral.
“Varney, the vampyre.”
“D — — e, he’s ill-looking and big enough for anything — there’s a noise!”
There was a strange cracking sound at the window, as if a pane of glass was being very stealthily and quietly broken; and then the blind was agitated slightly, confusing much the shadow that was cast upon it, as if the hand of some person was introduced for the purpose of effecting a complete entrance into the apartment.
“He’s coming in,” whispered the admiral.
“Hush, for Heaven’s sake!” said Mr. Chillingworth; “you will alarm him, and we shall lose the fruit of all the labour we have already bestowed upon the matter; but did you not say something, admiral, about lying under the window and catching him by the leg?”
“Why, yes; I did.”
“Go and do it, then; for, as sure as you are a living man, his leg will be in in a minute.”
“Here goes,” said the admiral; “I never suggest anything which I’m unwilling to do myself.”
Whoever it was that now was making such strenuous exertions to get into the apartment seemed to find some difficulty as regarded the fastenings of the window, and as this difficulty increased, the patience of the party, as well as his caution deserted him, and the casement was rattled with violence.
With a far greater amount of caution than any one from a knowledge of his character would have given him credit for, the admiral crept forward and laid himself exactly under the window.
The depth of wood-work from the floor to the lowest part of the window-frame did not exceed above two feet; to that any one could conveniently step in from the balcony outride on to the floor of the apartment, which was just what he who was attempting to effect an entrance was desirous of doing.
It was quite clear that, be he who he might, mortal or vampyre, he had some acquaintance with the fastening of the window; for now he succeeded in moving it, and the sash was thrown open.
The blind was still an obstacle; but a vigorous pull from the intruder brought that down on the prostrate admiral; and then Mr. Chillingworth
saw, by the moonlight, a tall, gaunt figure standing in the balcony, as if just hesitating for a moment whether to get head first or feet first into the apartment.
Had he chosen the former alternative he would need, indeed, to have been endowed with more than mortal powers of defence and offence to escape capture, but his lucky star was in the ascendancy, and he put his foot in first.
He turned his side to the apartment and, as he did so, the blight moonlight fell upon his face, enabling Mr. Chillingworth to see, without the shadow of a doubt, that it was, indeed, Varney, the vampyre, who was thus stealthily making his entrance into Bannerworth Hall, according to the calculation which had been made by the admiral upon that subject. The doctor scarcely knew whether to be pleased or not at this discovery; it was almost a terrifying one, sceptical as he was upon the subject of vampyres, and he waited breathless for the issue of the singular and perilous adventure.
No doubt Admiral Bell deeply congratulated himself upon the success which was about to crown his stratagem for the capture of the intruder, be he who he might, and he writhed with impatience for the foot to come sufficiently near him to enable him to grasp it.
His patience was not severely tried, for in another moment it rested upon his chest.
“Boarders a hoy!” shouted the admiral, and at once he laid hold of the trespasser. “Yard-arm to yard-arm, I think I’ve got you now. Here’s a prize, doctor! he shall go away without his leg if he goes away now. Eh! what! the light — d — — e, he has — Doctor, the light! the light! Why what’s this? — Hilloa, there!”
Dr. Chillingworth sprang into the passage, and procured the light — in another moment he was at the side of the admiral, and the lantern slide being thrown back, he saw at once the dilemma into which his friend had fallen.
There he lay upon his back, grasping, with the vehemence of an embrace that had in it much of the ludicrous, a long boot, from which the intruder had cleverly slipped his leg, leaving it as a poor trophy in the hands of his enemies.
“Why you’ve only pulled his boot off,” said the doctor; “and now he’s gone for good, for he knows what we’re about, and has slipped through your fingers.”
Admiral Bell sat up and looked at the boot with a rueful countenance.
“Done again!” he said.
“Yes, you are done,” said the doctor; “why didn’t you lay hold of the leg while you were about it, instead of the boot? Admiral, are these your tactics?”
“Don’t be a fool,” said the admiral; “put out the light and give me the pistols, or blaze away yourself into the garden; a chance shot may do something. It’s no use running after him; a stern chase is a long chase; but fire away.”
As if some parties below had heard him give the word, two loud reports from the garden immediately ensued, and a crash of glass testified to the fact that some deadly missile had entered the room.
“Murder!” said the doctor, and he fell flat upon his back. “I don’t like this at all; it’s all in your line, admiral, but not in mine.”
“All’s right, my lad,” said the admiral; “now for it.”
He saw lying in the moonlight the pistols which he and the doctor had brought into the room, and in another moment he, to use his own words, returned the broadside of the enemy.
“D — n it!” he said, “this puts me in mind of old times. Blaze away, you thieves, while I load; broadside to broadside. It’s your turn now; I scorn to take an advantage. What the devil’s that?”
Something very large and very heavy came bang against the window, sending it all into the room, and nearly smothering the admiral with the fragments. Another shot was then fired, and in came something else, which hit the wall on the opposite side of the room, rebounding from thence on to the doctor, who gave a yell of despair.
After that all was still; the enemy seemed to be satisfied that they had silenced the garrison. And it took the admiral a great deal of kicking and plunging to rescue himself from some superincumbent mass that was upon him, which seemed to him to be a considerable sized tree.
“Call this fair fighting,” he shouted — ”getting a man’s legs and arms tangled up like a piece of Indian matting in the branches of a tree? Doctor, I say! hilloa! where are you?”
“I don’t know,” said the doctor; “but there’s somebody getting into the balcony — now we shall be murdered in cold blood!”
“Where’s the pistols?”
“Fired off, of course; you did it yourself.”
Bang came something else into the room, which, from the sound it made, closely resembled a brick, and after that somebody jumped clean into the centre of the floor, and then, after rolling and writhing about in a most singular manner, slowly got up, and with various preliminary hiccups, said, —
“Come on, you lubbers, many of you as like. I’m the tar for all weathers.”
“Why, d — — e,” said the admiral, “it’s Jack Pringle.”
“Yes, it is,” said Jack, who was not sufficiently sober to recognise the admiral’s voice. “I sees as how you’ve heard of me. Come on, all of you.”
“Why, Jack, you scoundrel,” roared the admiral, “how came you here? Don’t you know me? I’m your admiral, you horse-marine.”
“Eh?” said Jack. “Ay — ay, sir, how came you here?”
“How came you, you villain?”
“Boarded the enemy.”
“The enemy who you boarded was us; and hang me if I don’t think you haven’t been pouring broadsides into us, while the enemy were scudding before the wind in another direction.”
“Lor!” said Jack.
“Explain, you scoundrel, directly — explain.”
“Well, that’s only reasonable,” said Jack; and giving a heavier lurch than usual, he sat down with a great bounce upon the floor. “You see it’s just this here, — when I was a coming of course I heard, just as I was a going, that ere as made me come all in consequence of somebody a going, or for to come, you see, admiral.”
“Doctor,” cried the admiral, in a great rage, “just help me out of this entanglement of branches, and I’ll rid the world from an encumbrance by smashing that fellow.”
“Smash yourself!” said Jack. “You know you’re drunk.”
“My dear admiral,” said Mr. Chillingworth, laying hold of one of his legs, and pulling it very hard, which brought his face into a lot of brambles, “we’re making a mess of this business.”
“Murder!” shouted the admiral; “you are indeed. Is that what you call pulling me out of it? You’ve stuck me fast.”
“I’ll manage it,” said Jack. “I’ve seed him in many a scrape, and I’ve seed him out. You pull me, doctor, and I’ll pull him. Yo hoy!”
Jack laid hold of the admiral by the scuff of the neck, and the doctor laid hold of Jack round the waist, the consequence of which was that he was dragged out from the branches of the tree, which seemed to have been thrown into the room, and down fell both Jack and the doctor.
At this instant there was a strange hissing sound heard below the window; then there was a sudden, loud report, as if a hand-grenade had gone off. A spectral sort of light gleamed into the room, and a tall, gaunt-looking figure rose slowly up in the balcony.
“Beware of the dead!” said a voice. “Let the living contend with the living, the dead with the dead. Beware!”
The figure disappeared, as did also the strange, spectral-looking light. A death-like silence ensued, and the cold moonbeams streamed in upon the floor of the apartment, as if nothing had occurred to disturb the wrapped repose and serenity of the scene.
CHAPTER LIX.
THE WARNING. — THE NEW PLAN OF OPERATION. — THE INSULTING MESSAGE FROM VARNEY.
So much of the night had been consumed in these operations, that by the time they were over, and the three personages who lay upon the floor of what might be called the haunted chamber of Bannerworth Hall, even had they now been disposed to seek repose, would have had a short time to do so before the daylight would have stre
amed in upon them, and roused them to the bustle of waking existence.
It may be well believed what a vast amount of surprise came over the three persons in that chamber at the last little circumstance that had occurred in connection with the night’s proceedings.
There was nothing which had preceded that, that did not resemble a genuine attack upon the premises; but about that last mysterious appearance, with its curious light, there was quite enough to bother the admiral and Jack Pringle to a considerable effect, whatever might be the effect upon Mr. Chillingworth, whose profession better enabled him to comprehend, chemically, what would produce effects that, no doubt, astonished them amazingly.
What with his intoxication and the violent exercise he had taken, Jack was again thoroughly prostrate; while the admiral could not have looked more astonished had the evil one himself appeared in propria persona and given him notice to quit the premises.
He was, however, the first to speak, and the words he spoke were addressed to Jack, to whom he said, —
“Jack, you lubber, what do you think of all that?”
Jack, however, was too far gone even to say “Ay, ay, sir;” and Mr. Chillingworth, slowly getting himself up to his feet, approached the admiral.
“It’s hard to say so much, Admiral Bell,” he said, “but it strikes me that whatever object this Sir Francis Varney, or Varney, the vampyre, has in coming into Bannerworth Hall, it is, at all events, of sufficient importance to induce him to go any length, and not to let even a life to stand in the way of its accomplishment.”
“Well, it seems so,” said the admiral; “for I’ll be hanged if I can make head or tail of the fellow.”
“If we value our personal safety, we shall hesitate to continue a perilous adventure which I think can end only in defeat, if not in death.”