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@ -25,7 +25,8 @@ span.elision{
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table{
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table td{
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@ -34,9 +35,18 @@ table td{
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table td:last-child{
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table tfoot{
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table th[scope=row]{
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@ -58,3 +68,7 @@ footer{
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[epub|type~="z3998:letter"] header + p{
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}
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caption{
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@ -37,68 +37,71 @@
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<p>The upshot was that another Act of Parliament was obtained by the influence of the said powerful railway company, authorising this line, station, and agreement. It was now argued that this Act and agreement would override the original building leases; especially as the railway company were prepared to prove that they had not yet reaped any reasonable benefit, and, unless the leases were extended, would be serious losers. As they had immense interest in the House, they were likely enough to gain their point. Here were two more Gordian knots, Numbers 4 and 5!</p>
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<p>Then there was the list of claimants to the estate, which had now been swelled from all parts of the world, and the series of suits and pleas, and Heaven knows what other litigation threatened by them, making Gordian knot Number 6. Finally, the estate was in Chancery. Knot Number 7.</p>
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<p>Here was a pleasant prospect for the heir! To put all the rest on one side, on the day that the building leases expired, and he stepped forward to claim his rights, the building societies would present him with the following neat little bill:—</p>
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<p>Societies 1, 2, 3, 4:—</p>
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<table>
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<tbody>
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<tr>
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<td>To loans advanced for completion of Railway</td>
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<td>£123,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Interest on same at 4 per cent</td>
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<td>50,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Loans advanced for completion of Houses, and Purchase of Estates</td>
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<td>240,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Interest on same at 3 per cent</td>
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<td>38,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Private Loans on Bills [to Sternhold Baskette] at 5 per cent</td>
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<td>20,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Interest on same at 5 per cent</td>
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<td>3,000</td>
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</tr>
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</tbody>
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<tfoot>
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<tr>
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<th scope="row">Total</th>
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<td>£474,000</td>
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</tr>
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</tfoot>
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</table>
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<p>Societies 5, 6, 7, 8:—</p>
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<table>
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<tbody>
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<tr>
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<td>To Private Loans on Bills [to Marese Baskette] at 8 and 10 per cent</td>
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<td>£65,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Interest on same</td>
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<td>11,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Paper Transactions as per Bill of Particulars, due</td>
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<td>80,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Advance on Railway Extension, as per Parliamentary Act</td>
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<td>118,000</td>
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</tr>
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</tbody>
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<tfoot>
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<tr>
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<th scope="row">Total</th>
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<td>£304,000</td>
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</tr>
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</tfoot>
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</table>
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<blockquote>
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<table>
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<caption>Societies 1, 2, 3, 4:—</caption>
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<tbody>
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<tr>
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<td>To loans advanced for completion of Railway</td>
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<td>£123,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Interest on same at 4 percent</td>
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<td>50,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Loans advanced for completion of Houses, and Purchase of Estates</td>
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<td>240,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Interest on same at 3 percent</td>
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<td>38,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Private Loans on Bills [to Sternhold Baskette] at 5 percent</td>
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<td>20,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Interest on same at 5 percent</td>
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<td>3,000</td>
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</tr>
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</tbody>
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<tfoot>
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<tr>
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<th scope="row">Total</th>
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<td>£474,000</td>
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</tr>
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</tfoot>
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</table>
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<table>
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<caption>Societies 5, 6, 7, 8:—</caption>
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<tbody>
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<tr>
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<td>To Private Loans on Bills [to Marese Baskette] at 8 and 10 percent</td>
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<td>£65,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Interest on same</td>
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<td>11,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Paper Transactions as per Bill of Particulars, due</td>
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<td>80,000</td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>To Advance on Railway Extension, as per Parliamentary Act</td>
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<td>118,000</td>
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</tr>
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</tbody>
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<tfoot>
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<tr>
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<th scope="row">Total</th>
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<td>£304,000</td>
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</tr>
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</tfoot>
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</table>
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<p>Total of Bills to meet before taking posession of property on expiration of leases, £778,000.</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>“After all,” said Marese to Theodore, as they planned and schemed, and smoked cigars at 120 shillings the hundred, “after all, old fellow, this is but one year’s income if I could only get possession. And I believe we could finance the thing and raise the money without difficulty, if it were not for those cursed, hateful claimants from America and elsewhere. The Jews fight shy on account of the title difficulty. If we could but get rid of those claimants!”</p>
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</section>
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</body>
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@ -8,7 +8,7 @@
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section data-parent="book-1" id="chapter-1-3" epub:type="chapter">
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<h3 epub:type="title ordinal z3998:roman">III</h3>
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<p>In these days such a verdict and such an ending to a tragedy would be out of the question; but there were no police in those times to take up a case if it chanced to slip by the Coroner. Once past the Coroner, and the criminal was practically safe. The county officers were never in a hurry for such prosecutions, for a gallows cost at least 300 pounds. They wanted a public prosecutor then ten times more than we do now. Sibbold was shunned by the very men who had acquitted him; but there is no reason to suppose he ever felt remorse. He was made of that kind of stuff of which the men in armour, his ancestors, were composed, who thought little or nothing of human life. But one day he met Arthur, his eldest son, face to face upon the stairs. It was the first time they had met since the inquest—Arthur had avoided the place, and wandered about a good deal by himself, till some simple folk began to think that it was he who had committed the deed, and that his conscience was troubling him.</p>
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<p>In these days such a verdict and such an ending to a tragedy would be out of the question; but there were no police in those times to take up a case if it chanced to slip by the Coroner. Once past the Coroner, and the criminal was practically safe. The county officers were never in a hurry for such prosecutions, for a gallows cost at least £300. They wanted a public prosecutor then ten times more than we do now. Sibbold was shunned by the very men who had acquitted him; but there is no reason to suppose he ever felt remorse. He was made of that kind of stuff of which the men in armour, his ancestors, were composed, who thought little or nothing of human life. But one day he met Arthur, his eldest son, face to face upon the stairs. It was the first time they had met since the inquest—Arthur had avoided the place, and wandered about a good deal by himself, till some simple folk began to think that it was he who had committed the deed, and that his conscience was troubling him.</p>
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<p>This meeting on the stairs took place by accident one morning—Sibbold was going to pass, but Arthur put his hand on his shoulder, “I saw you do it,” he said. He had just entered the rick yard when the shot was fired. He had held his peace, but his mind could not rest. “I cannot stay here,” he said, “I am going. I shall never see you again.”</p>
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<p>Old Sibbold stood like a stone; but presently put his hand in his pocket and held out his purse.</p>
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<p>“No,” said Arthur; “not a penny of that, it would be blood money.”</p>
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@ -36,11 +36,11 @@
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<p>But now came a difficulty—the title to the ground was not all that could be wished. James had been dead some years, but it was well-known that had Arthur returned—if Arthur still lived, or his heirs—that James had no right. He had enjoyed the farm and the land, such as it was, unmolested, all his life. He had married, and had eight sons. Six of these had married since, and most of them had children.</p>
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<p>As none could claim the property, they all found a miserable livelihood upon it, somehow or other. They had degenerated into a condition little better than that of the squatters in the Swamp.</p>
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<p>Three families lived in the farmhouse, constantly quarrelling; two made their dwelling in the cowsheds, slightly improved; one boiled the pot in the great carthouse, and the two single men slept in the barn. Such a condition of slovenliness and dirt it would be hard to equal. And the language, the fighting, and the immorality are better left undescribed! The clergyman of Wolfs Glow wished them further.</p>
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<p>To these wretches the offers of Sternhold Baskette came like the promised land. He held out 300 pounds apiece, on condition that they would jointly sign the deed and then go to America. They jumped at it. The solicitor warned Baskette that the contract was not sound. He asked, in reply, if anyone could produce the deed under which the property descended by “heirship.” No one could. Somehow or other it had been lost.</p>
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<p>To these wretches the offers of Sternhold Baskette came like the promised land. He held out £300 apiece, on condition that they would jointly sign the deed and then go to America. They jumped at it. The solicitor warned Baskette that the contract was not sound. He asked, in reply, if anyone could produce the deed under which the property descended by “heirship.” No one could. Somehow or other it had been lost.</p>
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<p>In less than a month eight Sibbolds, with their wives and families, were en route to the United States, and Sternhold took possession. Then came the Swamp settlement difficulty.</p>
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<p>At first Baskette thought of carrying matters with a high hand. The squatters said they had lived there for two generations, or nearly so, and had paid no rent. They had a right. Sternhold remembered that they were of his clan. He gave them the same terms as the Sibbolds—and they took them. Three hundred pounds to such miserable wretches seemed an El Dorado.</p>
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<p>They signed a deed, and went to America, filling up half a vessel, for there were seventeen heads of families, and children ad libitum.</p>
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<p>Thus Sternhold bought the farm and the Swamp for 7500 pounds. His aim in getting them to America was that no question of right might crop up—for the Cunard line was not then what it is now, and the passage was expensive and protracted. He reckoned that they would spend the money soon after landing, and never have a chance of returning.</p>
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<p>Thus Sternhold bought the farm and the Swamp for £7,500. His aim in getting them to America was that no question of right might crop up—for the Cunard line was not then what it is now, and the passage was expensive and protracted. He reckoned that they would spend the money soon after landing, and never have a chance of returning.</p>
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<p>Meantime the railway came to a standstill. There had been inflation—vast sums of promotion money had been squandered in the usual reckless manner, and ruin stared the shareholders in the face. To Sternhold it meant absolute loss of all, and above everything, of prestige.</p>
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<p>Already the keen business men of the place began to sneer at him. At any cost the railway must be kept on its legs. He sacrificed a large share of his wealth, and the works recommenced. The old swamp, or marsh, was drained.</p>
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<p>Sternhold had determined to make this the Belgravia of Stirmingham, and had the plans prepared accordingly. They were something gigantic in costliness and magnificence. His best friends warned and begged him to desist. No; he would go on. Stirmingham would become the finest city in England, and he should be the richest man in Europe. Up rose palatial mansions, broad streets, splendid clubhouses—even the foundations of a theatre were laid. And all this was begun at once. Otherwise, Sternhold was afraid that the compass of an ordinary life would not enable him to see these vast designs finished. So that one might walk through streets with whole blocks of houses only one story high.</p>
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@ -34,7 +34,7 @@
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<p>After all, there was some grain of truth in it. If he could have grasped all that was his, he would have surpassed all that was said about his riches.</p>
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<p>At last the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Stirmingham Daily News</i> hit upon a good idea to outdistance its great rival the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Stirmingham Daily Post</i>. This idea was a “Life of Sternhold Baskette, the Miser of Stirmingham.” After the editor had considered a little, he struck out “miser,” and wrote “capitalist”—it had a bigger sound.</p>
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<p>The manuscript was carefully got up in secret by the able editor and two of his staff, who watched Sternhold like detectives, and noted all his peculiarities of physiognomy and manner. They knew—these able editors know everything—that the public are particularly curious how much salt and pepper their heroes use, what colour necktie they wear, and so on. As the editor said, they wanted to make Sternhold the one grand central figure—perfect, complete in every detail. And they did it.</p>
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<p>They traced his origin and pedigree—this last was not quite accurate, but near enough. They devoted 150 pages to a mere catalogue of his houses, his streets, his squares, clubhouses, theatres, hotels, railways, collieries, ironworks, nail factories, estates, country mansions, <abbr class="eoc">etc.</abbr> They wrote 200 pages of speculations as to the actual value of this enormous property; and modestly put the total figure at “something under twenty millions, and will be worth half as much again in ten years.” They did not forget the building leases; when these fell in, said the memoir, he or his heirs would have an income of 750,000 pounds per annum.</p>
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<p>They traced his origin and pedigree—this last was not quite accurate, but near enough. They devoted 150 pages to a mere catalogue of his houses, his streets, his squares, clubhouses, theatres, hotels, railways, collieries, ironworks, nail factories, estates, country mansions, <abbr class="eoc">etc.</abbr> They wrote 200 pages of speculations as to the actual value of this enormous property; and modestly put the total figure at “something under twenty millions, and will be worth half as much again in ten years.” They did not forget the building leases; when these fell in, said the memoir, he or his heirs would have an income of £750,000 per annum.</p>
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<p>They carefully chronicled the fact that the capitalist had never married, that he had no son or daughter, that he was growing old, or, at least, past middle age, and had never been known to recognise anyone as his relation (having, in fact, shipped the whole family to America). What a glorious thing this would be for some lucky fellow! They finished up with a photograph of Sternhold himself. This was difficult to obtain. He was a morose, retiring man—he had never, so far as was known, had his portrait taken. It was quite certain that no persuasion would induce him to sit for it. The able editor, however, was not to be done. On some pretext or other Sternhold was got to the office of the paper, and while he sat conversing with the editor, the photographer “took him” through a hole made for the purpose in the wooden partition between the editor’s and subeditor’s room. As Sternhold was quite unconscious, the portrait was really a very good one. Suddenly the world was taken by storm with a “Life of Sternhold Baskette, the Capitalist of Stirmingham. His enormous riches, pedigree, etc, 500 pages, post octavo, illustrated, price 7 shillings 6 pence.”</p>
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<p>The able editor did not confine himself to Stirmingham. Before the book was announced he made his London arrangements, also with the lessees of the railway bookstalls. At one and the same moment of time, one morning Stirmingham woke up to find itself placarded with huge yellow bills (the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">News</i> was Liberal then—it turned its coat later on—and boasted that John Bright had been to the office), boys ran about distributing handbills at every door, men stood at the street corners handing them to everybody who passed.</p>
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<p>Flaring posters were stuck up at every railway station in the kingdom; ditto in London. The dead walls and hoardings were covered with yellow paper printed in letters a foot long. Three hundred agents, boys, girls, and men, walked all over the metropolis crying incessantly “Twenty Millions of Money,” and handing bills and cards to everyone. The <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Athenaeum, Saturday Review, Spectator</i>, and <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Times</i>; every paper, magazine, review; every large paper in the country had an advertisement. The result was something extraordinary.</p>
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@ -32,7 +32,9 @@
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<p>Looked at in the light of the present day, when intelligence is flashed from end to end of the kingdom in a few hours, the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Barnham Chronicle</i> was all but ridiculous. Its news was a week old or more, stale and unprofitable. It did not even advance so far as to have a London letter; but perhaps that was no great loss to its readers.</p>
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<p>Yet the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Barnham Chronicle</i> was a “property” in more than one sense; it paid, as well it might, at fourpence per copy, and with the monopoly of auctioneer’s and lawyer’s advertisements in that district. And it could boast of a more than patriarchal age.</p>
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<p>Reading slowly, paragraph by paragraph, through this enormous file, his notebook at his side, Aymer came upon one advertisement, simply worded, and with no meretricious advantage given to it by large type or other printer’s resource, yet which he read with a special interest. It contained the name of Waldron, of The Place, Bury Wick; and that name was sufficient to attract him. It ran thus:—</p>
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<p>“Notice of Change of Name.—I, Arthur Sibbold, tea-dealer, of the City of London, in the county of Middlesex, do hereby give notice, that it is my intention to apply for permission to add to my present baptismal names the name of Waldron, upon the occasion of my approaching marriage with Miss Annica Waldron, of The Place, Bury Wick, co. B—, etc, <abbr class="eoc">etc.</abbr> And that I shall be henceforward known, called, and designated by the name of Arthur Sibbold Waldron in all deeds, writings, etc, <abbr class="eoc">etc.</abbr>”</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>“Notice of Change of Name.—I, Arthur Sibbold, tea-dealer, of the City of London, in the county of Middlesex, do hereby give notice, that it is my intention to apply for permission to add to my present baptismal names the name of Waldron, upon the occasion of my approaching marriage with Miss Annica Waldron, of The Place, Bury Wick, <abbr>co.</abbr> B⸺, etc, <abbr class="eoc">etc.</abbr> And that I shall be henceforward known, called, and designated by the name of Arthur Sibbold Waldron in all deeds, writings, etc, <abbr class="eoc">etc.</abbr>”</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>To us who are acquainted with the history of the city of Stirmingham, this entry has a wide significance; to Aymer it had none beyond the mere fact of the mention of Waldron. He copied it into his notebook with a mental resolve to show it to Violet, and thought no more of it. An event that happened about this time made him forget all about what appeared to him a trivial matter. This was the trial of Jenkins, the gardener, for the murder of Jason Waldron. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Broughton, who was engaged for the defence, to instruct counsel, naturally made much use of Aymer’s local knowledge and perfect acquaintance with the details of that terrible day, and was thereby furnished with fresh and overwhelming arguments.</p>
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<p>Aymer worked with a will, for he knew that Violet was much concerned and extremely anxious as to the result, and he watched the proceedings on the fateful day with intense interest. It is needless to recapitulate the details of the case, which have been already given. The result was an acquittal. The Judge summed up in favour of the prisoner, observing that it was monstrous if a man must be condemned to the last penalty of the law, because it so chanced that a tool belonging to him had been snatched up as the readiest instrument for a murderous attack. To his experience the murder did not appear at all in the light of an ordinary crime. In the first place, there was an apparent absence of motive. So far as was known, Waldron had no enemies and no quarrel with any man. Evidently it was not committed with the intention of theft, as not a single article had been missed. It appeared to him like the unaccountable impulse of an unreasoning being; in plain words, like the act of <em>a lunatic with homicidal tendencies</em>. The jury unanimously acquitted the prisoner, and Aymer hastened to send the news to Violet. He could not post with it himself, as <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Broughton had other cases to attend to.</p>
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<p>Poor Jenkins was free—and lost. The shock had stunned him, and he was too old and too much weakened by disease to ever recover from it. He could not face his native village, the place where his family, though humble, had for generations borne a good character. He had an almost childish dread of meeting anyone from Bury Wick or World’s End, and even avoided Aymer, who sought him in the crowd.</p>
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@ -17,36 +17,38 @@
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<p>On the 4th, however, another steamer came into Liverpool, bringing the New York papers up to date, and the contents of these were at once published in London.</p>
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<p>By the steamer came a letter from Anthony Baskelette. He had left the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Saskatchewan</i> on hearing of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>’s return, in great anxiety about some consignment he had made by her to his agent in Stirmingham. He had met the heir, and had been invited to accompany him to England on board his yacht, which would not reach Liverpool till the 9th. He was full of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> catastrophe, and his long letter contained more particulars than four papers.</p>
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<p>Aymer read it with the deepest interest. It ran:—</p>
|
||||
<p>“You will of course attend the council on the 6th, both in the interest of the building society and of myself. I am delayed by the necessity of seeing after the consignment I had made on board the unfortunate <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, which consignment is too valuable to be left to agents. I am in the greatest anxiety, because it is uncertain yet in what light the rescue of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> will be regarded.</p>
|
||||
<p>“There can be no doubt that if the owner of the yacht—<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Marese Baskette—likes, he can put in a heavy claim for salvage. The question is—whether in his position as the ostensible heir, and as a gentleman, he will insist upon his right, or, at all events, moderate his demands?</p>
|
||||
<p>“I have met and conversed with him, and I gather from him that personally he is averse to making any claim at all. He considers that his yacht simply performed a duly, and a duly that was imperative upon her captain. To take money from those unfortunate persons who had consigned goods, or bullion in the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> he thought would be contrary to every sentiment of honour and humanity.</p>
|
||||
<p>“But, unfortunately, he is not altogether a free agent. It appears that at the time when the salvage of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was effected, there was on board the yacht a certain <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore Marese—a cousin of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette’s, who is only in moderate circumstances, and naturally looks upon the event as a windfall which may never occur again—as I hope and pray it never will.</p>
|
||||
<p>“<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore Marese, it seems, performed some personal service in rescuing the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, and was considered to have run considerable risk to his life.</p>
|
||||
<p>“A certain sum will have no doubt to be paid to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore, and I cannot blame him if he insists upon his right. He was practically the master of the yacht at the time, and it seems was on his way—with <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette’s permission—to London, to attend to some very urgent business there, which the catastrophe of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> has delayed and greatly injured, causing him pecuniary loss.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Then there is the captain of the yacht, and the crew. It is a fine vessel—some 300 tons or more, I should think—a screw steamer, and very fast. She carries a rather numerous crew, and all these are ravenous for plunder, and it is hard to see how these claims are to be avoided. Still further, it seems that <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette himself is not altogether a free agent. He freely admitted to me that he was not without his debts—as is probable enough to a man of fashion, with a certain position to maintain.</p>
|
||||
<p>“These creditors may take advantage of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> business to push him, and say that he must take the salvage in order to meet their demands. Of this he is greatly afraid.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Baskette is a most pleasant man, easy to converse with, very open and straightforward—quite a different person to what I should have expected. He has been particularly agreeable to me, promising his best efforts to curtail my loss, and has given me a cabin in his now famous yacht, the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i>.</p>
|
||||
<p>“I cannot drive the subject of the salvage from my mind. The saloons, bars, hotels—everywhere people talk of nothing else. It has quite eclipsed the tragedy, as well it might, from the magnitude of the sums involved.</p>
|
||||
<p>“First of all, there is the vessel herself—found upon the high seas, a derelict, without a hand at the wheel or at the engines. She is a splendid steamer, fully 3000 tons, and estimated at half a million of dollars, or, say, 100,000 pounds. The cargo she carried was immensely valuable—the bullion you know about: it was 718,000 pounds in exact figures—but the cargo must be worth at least another 75,000 pounds.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Then there is a very large amount of personal property, for half the claimants who were to go by her had forwarded their luggage previously; and there are the effects of the poor creatures who died. But these last, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette declares, shall under no circumstances be touched. Happen what may, they are to be returned to the owners of their heirs undiminished.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Putting it all at the lowest estimate, the value of the vessel, the bullion, and cargo cannot be less than 893,000 pounds; and the salvage will equal a gigantic fortune.</p>
|
||||
<p>“So far I have dealt only with the salvage question. I will now proceed to give you a more detailed account than you will be able to get from the papers, of the terrible fate which overtook the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>. These I have learnt from <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette and from <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore Marese, who was on the yacht.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The reporters are, of course, incessant in their inquiries, but there is much that has escaped them, as a certain amount of reticence must of necessity be observed. These gentlemen have, however, made no reserve to me—I must beg of you not to publish this letter, or any part of it, lest there should appear to be a breach of confidence.</p>
|
||||
<p>“It appears that the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> started at noon on the Friday, as per bond, with a full complement of crew, but a short list of passengers. About two hours after she had left, the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i> put out to sea. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette was at that time still at Imola, unable to get to New York. He and his cousin, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> T. Marese, were to have gone together in the yacht to London, where <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore’s business was very pressing.</p>
|
||||
<p>“When <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette found himself unable to reach New York, he telegraphed to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore telling him to take the yacht and go on to London as had been previously arranged, thereby showing the same character of consideration for others which he has since exhibited to me.</p>
|
||||
<p>“<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore put to sea in the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i>, and says that next morning they overtook the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, or nearly so, the yacht being extremely swift. It occurred to him that, after all, as the Atlantic is still the Atlantic, notwithstanding steam, and there are such things as breaking machinery, it would be well to keep in company with a powerful vessel like the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> as far as the coast of Ireland.</p>
|
||||
<p>“They did so, and even once spoke the steamship, which replied, ‘All well.’ All that day the two ships were not half a mile apart, and the night being moonlit, the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i> followed close in the other’s wake till about four in the morning, when, as often happens at sea, a thick fog came on. Afraid of collision, the captain of the yacht now slackened speed to about six knots, and kept a course a little to the starboard of the steamer ahead.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The fog continued very thick till past noon, and then suddenly lifted, and they saw seven or eight sail in sight, one of which was the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> on their port bow, and about four miles off. She was running, as usual, at a good pace, and the sea being quiet, was making all thirteen knots. The <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i> increased speed, and drew up to within a mile and a half by three in the afternoon. The <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> then bore due east, and they were in her wake. The wind was west, with a little southerly, and just ahead of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was a large square-rigged ship, with all sail set, but making very little way on account of the trifling breeze.</p>
|
||||
<p>“An extraordinary thing now happened. The <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was observed by the captain of the yacht to be making straight for the sailing ship ahead, and had now got so close that a collision appeared inevitable. He called to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore, who came up from below. The <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> ran dead at the sailing ship, though she was making thirteen knots to the other’s four, and the slightest turn of her wheel would have carried her free. On account of the direction of the wind, the ship was sailing almost right before it, and the steamer appeared to be aiming at her stern.</p>
|
||||
<p>“On the yacht they could see the crew of the sailing ship making frantic signs over the quarter to the steamer, but not the slightest notice was taken. The captain of the sailing ship had relied upon the steamer giving way, as is usual, and had allowed her to come so close that, it seems, he lost his head. Seeing this, the mate sang out to put the helm a-starboard, and run straight before the wind. This was done, and only just in time, for the steamer actually grazed her quarter, and carried away their boom. Knowing that the captain of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was an old sailor, and a steady, experienced man, they were astonished at this behaviour, especially as, without staying to inquire what damage had been done, she kept on her course at still greater speed.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The captain of the yacht now put on speed, being desirous of speaking the steamer; but after an hour or two it was evident that the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was drawing ahead, and had increased her lead by at least a mile. They could not understand this, as the yacht was notoriously faster, and it became evident that the engineer of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> must have got his safety-valve screwed-down.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Night, as everyone knows, falls rapidly at this time of the year, and the darkness was increased by the fog, which now came on again. During the evening all their conversation was upon the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>. Surely she would not keep up her speed in such a fog as this? The yacht had slackened, and was doing, as before, about six knots.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The night wore on, till about two o’clock, when the wind freshened, and blew half a gale. At four the fog cleared, and the watch reported that the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was on their starboard quarter, a mile astern, with her engines stopped. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore was called, and came on deck. There lay the steamer in the trough of the sea, rolling, heaving—so much so that they wondered her sticks did not go. No smoke issued from her funnel, and the steam-pipe gave no sign. The usual flag was flying, but no signal was shown in answer to the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i>’s inquiry. There was no sail on her.</p>
|
||||
<p>“It was at once evident that something was wrong, and <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore ordered the yacht to be put about. They tried the signals, but, as I said, no notice was taken. On approaching the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, which had to be done with some caution, as she slewed about in a helpless manner, and was drifting before the sea, an extraordinary spectacle presented itself. As she rolled, her deck came partly into view, and they saw, with what feelings may be imagined, several men lying on the deck, and thrown now this way, now that, as the rollers went under her, evidently either dead or unconscious.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Filled with alarm and excitement, they attempted to board the vessel, but found it impossible. The waves made all but a clean breach over her. She staggered like a drunken man, and swung now this way, now that. Some of the standing rigging had given way, and they could hear the masts creak. They were afraid to get under her lee in case they should fall.</p>
|
||||
<p>“At length the captain of the yacht thought of a plan. He got a hawser ready with a loop, and watching his opportunity, ran the yacht close to her bow, and with his own hand, at great risk, hurled the rope, and by good luck the loop caught in the fluke of one of her anchors. They paid the hawser out over the yacht’s stern, and gradually got her in tow. It strained fearfully; but as soon as they had got the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> before the wind, they had her right enough, though there was even then some danger of being pooped. The sea was high, but not so high that the jolly-boat could live, and they manned her and boarded the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The sailors were eager enough to get on board, but so soon as they were on deck the superstition of the sea seemed to seize them, and not one would venture from the gangway; for towards the stern there lay the bodies that they had seen, still and motionless, and evidently dead.</p>
|
||||
<p>“A terrible mystery hung over the ship—terrible, indeed!”</p>
|
||||
<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
|
||||
<p>“You will of course attend the council on the 6th, both in the interest of the building society and of myself. I am delayed by the necessity of seeing after the consignment I had made on board the unfortunate <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, which consignment is too valuable to be left to agents. I am in the greatest anxiety, because it is uncertain yet in what light the rescue of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> will be regarded.</p>
|
||||
<p>“There can be no doubt that if the owner of the yacht—<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Marese Baskette—likes, he can put in a heavy claim for salvage. The question is—whether in his position as the ostensible heir, and as a gentleman, he will insist upon his right, or, at all events, moderate his demands?</p>
|
||||
<p>“I have met and conversed with him, and I gather from him that personally he is averse to making any claim at all. He considers that his yacht simply performed a duly, and a duly that was imperative upon her captain. To take money from those unfortunate persons who had consigned goods, or bullion in the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> he thought would be contrary to every sentiment of honour and humanity.</p>
|
||||
<p>“But, unfortunately, he is not altogether a free agent. It appears that at the time when the salvage of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was effected, there was on board the yacht a certain <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore Marese—a cousin of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette’s, who is only in moderate circumstances, and naturally looks upon the event as a windfall which may never occur again—as I hope and pray it never will.</p>
|
||||
<p>“<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore Marese, it seems, performed some personal service in rescuing the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, and was considered to have run considerable risk to his life.</p>
|
||||
<p>“A certain sum will have no doubt to be paid to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore, and I cannot blame him if he insists upon his right. He was practically the master of the yacht at the time, and it seems was on his way—with <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette’s permission—to London, to attend to some very urgent business there, which the catastrophe of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> has delayed and greatly injured, causing him pecuniary loss.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Then there is the captain of the yacht, and the crew. It is a fine vessel—some 300 tons or more, I should think—a screw steamer, and very fast. She carries a rather numerous crew, and all these are ravenous for plunder, and it is hard to see how these claims are to be avoided. Still further, it seems that <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette himself is not altogether a free agent. He freely admitted to me that he was not without his debts—as is probable enough to a man of fashion, with a certain position to maintain.</p>
|
||||
<p>“These creditors may take advantage of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> business to push him, and say that he must take the salvage in order to meet their demands. Of this he is greatly afraid.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Baskette is a most pleasant man, easy to converse with, very open and straightforward—quite a different person to what I should have expected. He has been particularly agreeable to me, promising his best efforts to curtail my loss, and has given me a cabin in his now famous yacht, the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i>.</p>
|
||||
<p>“I cannot drive the subject of the salvage from my mind. The saloons, bars, hotels—everywhere people talk of nothing else. It has quite eclipsed the tragedy, as well it might, from the magnitude of the sums involved.</p>
|
||||
<p>“First of all, there is the vessel herself—found upon the high seas, a derelict, without a hand at the wheel or at the engines. She is a splendid steamer, fully 3000 tons, and estimated at half a million of dollars, or, say, £100,000. The cargo she carried was immensely valuable—the bullion you know about: it was £718,000 in exact figures—but the cargo must be worth at least another £75,000.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Then there is a very large amount of personal property, for half the claimants who were to go by her had forwarded their luggage previously; and there are the effects of the poor creatures who died. But these last, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette declares, shall under no circumstances be touched. Happen what may, they are to be returned to the owners of their heirs undiminished.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Putting it all at the lowest estimate, the value of the vessel, the bullion, and cargo cannot be less than £893,000; and the salvage will equal a gigantic fortune.</p>
|
||||
<p>“So far I have dealt only with the salvage question. I will now proceed to give you a more detailed account than you will be able to get from the papers, of the terrible fate which overtook the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>. These I have learnt from <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette and from <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore Marese, who was on the yacht.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The reporters are, of course, incessant in their inquiries, but there is much that has escaped them, as a certain amount of reticence must of necessity be observed. These gentlemen have, however, made no reserve to me—I must beg of you not to publish this letter, or any part of it, lest there should appear to be a breach of confidence.</p>
|
||||
<p>“It appears that the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> started at noon on the Friday, as per bond, with a full complement of crew, but a short list of passengers. About two hours after she had left, the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i> put out to sea. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette was at that time still at Imola, unable to get to New York. He and his cousin, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> T. Marese, were to have gone together in the yacht to London, where <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore’s business was very pressing.</p>
|
||||
<p>“When <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette found himself unable to reach New York, he telegraphed to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore telling him to take the yacht and go on to London as had been previously arranged, thereby showing the same character of consideration for others which he has since exhibited to me.</p>
|
||||
<p>“<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore put to sea in the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i>, and says that next morning they overtook the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, or nearly so, the yacht being extremely swift. It occurred to him that, after all, as the Atlantic is still the Atlantic, notwithstanding steam, and there are such things as breaking machinery, it would be well to keep in company with a powerful vessel like the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> as far as the coast of Ireland.</p>
|
||||
<p>“They did so, and even once spoke the steamship, which replied, ‘All well.’ All that day the two ships were not half a mile apart, and the night being moonlit, the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i> followed close in the other’s wake till about four in the morning, when, as often happens at sea, a thick fog came on. Afraid of collision, the captain of the yacht now slackened speed to about six knots, and kept a course a little to the starboard of the steamer ahead.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The fog continued very thick till past noon, and then suddenly lifted, and they saw seven or eight sail in sight, one of which was the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> on their port bow, and about four miles off. She was running, as usual, at a good pace, and the sea being quiet, was making all thirteen knots. The <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i> increased speed, and drew up to within a mile and a half by three in the afternoon. The <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> then bore due east, and they were in her wake. The wind was west, with a little southerly, and just ahead of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was a large square-rigged ship, with all sail set, but making very little way on account of the trifling breeze.</p>
|
||||
<p>“An extraordinary thing now happened. The <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was observed by the captain of the yacht to be making straight for the sailing ship ahead, and had now got so close that a collision appeared inevitable. He called to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore, who came up from below. The <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> ran dead at the sailing ship, though she was making thirteen knots to the other’s four, and the slightest turn of her wheel would have carried her free. On account of the direction of the wind, the ship was sailing almost right before it, and the steamer appeared to be aiming at her stern.</p>
|
||||
<p>“On the yacht they could see the crew of the sailing ship making frantic signs over the quarter to the steamer, but not the slightest notice was taken. The captain of the sailing ship had relied upon the steamer giving way, as is usual, and had allowed her to come so close that, it seems, he lost his head. Seeing this, the mate sang out to put the helm a-starboard, and run straight before the wind. This was done, and only just in time, for the steamer actually grazed her quarter, and carried away their boom. Knowing that the captain of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was an old sailor, and a steady, experienced man, they were astonished at this behaviour, especially as, without staying to inquire what damage had been done, she kept on her course at still greater speed.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The captain of the yacht now put on speed, being desirous of speaking the steamer; but after an hour or two it was evident that the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was drawing ahead, and had increased her lead by at least a mile. They could not understand this, as the yacht was notoriously faster, and it became evident that the engineer of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> must have got his safety-valve screwed-down.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Night, as everyone knows, falls rapidly at this time of the year, and the darkness was increased by the fog, which now came on again. During the evening all their conversation was upon the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>. Surely she would not keep up her speed in such a fog as this? The yacht had slackened, and was doing, as before, about six knots.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The night wore on, till about two o’clock, when the wind freshened, and blew half a gale. At four the fog cleared, and the watch reported that the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was on their starboard quarter, a mile astern, with her engines stopped. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore was called, and came on deck. There lay the steamer in the trough of the sea, rolling, heaving—so much so that they wondered her sticks did not go. No smoke issued from her funnel, and the steam-pipe gave no sign. The usual flag was flying, but no signal was shown in answer to the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i>’s inquiry. There was no sail on her.</p>
|
||||
<p>“It was at once evident that something was wrong, and <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore ordered the yacht to be put about. They tried the signals, but, as I said, no notice was taken. On approaching the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, which had to be done with some caution, as she slewed about in a helpless manner, and was drifting before the sea, an extraordinary spectacle presented itself. As she rolled, her deck came partly into view, and they saw, with what feelings may be imagined, several men lying on the deck, and thrown now this way, now that, as the rollers went under her, evidently either dead or unconscious.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Filled with alarm and excitement, they attempted to board the vessel, but found it impossible. The waves made all but a clean breach over her. She staggered like a drunken man, and swung now this way, now that. Some of the standing rigging had given way, and they could hear the masts creak. They were afraid to get under her lee in case they should fall.</p>
|
||||
<p>“At length the captain of the yacht thought of a plan. He got a hawser ready with a loop, and watching his opportunity, ran the yacht close to her bow, and with his own hand, at great risk, hurled the rope, and by good luck the loop caught in the fluke of one of her anchors. They paid the hawser out over the yacht’s stern, and gradually got her in tow. It strained fearfully; but as soon as they had got the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> before the wind, they had her right enough, though there was even then some danger of being pooped. The sea was high, but not so high that the jolly-boat could live, and they manned her and boarded the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The sailors were eager enough to get on board, but so soon as they were on deck the superstition of the sea seemed to seize them, and not one would venture from the gangway; for towards the stern there lay the bodies that they had seen, still and motionless, and evidently dead.</p>
|
||||
<p>“A terrible mystery hung over the ship—terrible, indeed!”</p>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
</section>
|
||||
</body>
|
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</html>
|
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@ -8,28 +8,30 @@
|
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||||
<section data-parent="book-2" id="chapter-2-13" epub:type="chapter">
|
||||
<h3 epub:type="title ordinal z3998:roman">XIII</h3>
|
||||
<p>“Not one of the seamen could be got to go below, or to approach the corpses on the deck; and even the mate, who did touch these last, had a reluctance to descend. It was, however, necessary to get another hawser attached to the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, and this occupied some little time; and by then the men became more accustomed to the ship, and at last, led by the mate, they went down.</p>
|
||||
<p>“At the foot of the staircase a terrible sight met their gaze. A heap of people—seamen, passengers, all classes—lay huddled up together—dead. They were piled one over the other in ghastly profusion, having been probably flung about by the rolling of the ship when she got broadside on. So great was the heap that they could not advance without either stepping upon the bodies, or removing them; and in this emergency they signalled to the yacht, which sent another boat, and in it came <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore.</p>
|
||||
<p>“He at once gave orders to make a passage and to explore the steamer thoroughly, which was done, and done speedily, for the sailors, having now conquered their superstitious fears, worked with a will. From that heap thirty-five bodies were carried up on deck, and laid upon one side in an awful row. They exhibited no traces of violence whatever. Their faces were quite calm; though one or two had the eyeballs staring from the head, as if they had struggled to escape suffocation.</p>
|
||||
<p>“A search through the steamer revealed a cargo of the dead. Passengers lay at the doors of their berths, some half-dressed; and five or six were discovered in their berths, having evidently died while asleep. The engineer lay on the floor of the engine-room with three assistants—stiff, and with features grimly distorted. They had apparently suffered more than the rest.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The crew were found in various places. The captain lay near the engine-room, as if he had been on his way to consult with the engineer when death overtook him. Bodies were found all over the ship, and exclamations constantly arose as the men discovered fresh corpses. The air between decks was close and confined, and there was a fetid odour which they supposed to arise from the bodies, and which forced them sometimes to run on deck to breathe. This odour caused many of the sailors to vomit, and one or two were really ill for a time.</p>
|
||||
<p>“It appeared that the whole ship’s crew and all the passengers had perished; but one of the sailors searching about found a man in the wheelhouse on deck, who on being lifted up showed some slight trace of life. The sailors crowded round, and the excitement was intense. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore, who is a physician by profession, lent the aid of his skill, and after a while the man began to come round, though unable to speak.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The captain of the yacht had now come on board, and a consultation was held, at which it was decided to run back to New York. But as the wind was strong and the sea high, and the hawsers strained a good deal, it was arranged to put a part of the crew of the yacht on board the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, to get up steam in her boilers, and shape a course for the States. To this the crew of the yacht strongly objected—they came aft in a body and respectfully begged not to be asked to stay on board the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>. They dreaded a similar fate to that which befel the crew and passengers of that unfortunate steamer.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The end of it was that <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore ordered the hawsers to be kept attached, and the yacht was to partly tow the steamer and she was to partly steam ahead herself—the steam was to be got up, and the engines driven at half speed. This would ease the hawsers and the yacht, and at the same time the crew on board the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> would be in communication with the yacht, and able to convey their wishes at once.</p>
|
||||
<p>“All agreed to this. Steam was easily got up, and the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>’s boilers and her engines were soon working, for the machinery was found to be in perfect order. By the time that this arrangement was perfected, and the ships were got well under weigh, the short day was nearly over, and with the night came anew the superstitions of the sailors. They murmured, and demurred to working a ship with a whole cargo of dead bodies. They would not move even across the deck alone, and as to going below it required them at once to face the mystery.</p>
|
||||
<p>“After an hour or so a clamour arose to pitch the dead overboard. What on earth was the use of keeping them? An abominable stench came up from between decks, and many of them could barely stand it. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore and the captain begged them to be calm, but it was in vain. They rose en masse, and in a short space of time every one of these dead bodies had been heaved overboard.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The gale had moderated, and the splash of each corpse as it fell into the water could be distinctly heard on board the yacht ahead. Such conduct cannot be too much deplored, and there was a talk of prosecuting the men for mutiny; but, on the other hand, there appears to be some excuse in the extraordinary and unprecedented horrors of the situation.</p>
|
||||
<p>“<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore remained on board the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, doing all that science and patience could do for the sole survivor, who proved to be the third officer. Towards sunrise he rallied considerably, but <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore never had any hopes, and advised the captain to take a note of his depositions, which was done.</p>
|
||||
<p>“His name, he said, was William Burrows, of Maine. He could only speak a few sentences at a time, and that very faintly, but the substance of it was that all went well with the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> up till early that morning, when first the fog came on. Very soon after the mist settled down, and speed was reduced, there was a commotion below, and a report spread through the ship that three men were dying. In ten minutes half a dozen more were taken in this manner. They complained merely of inability to breathe, and of a deadly weakness, and prayed to be taken on deck. This was done; but then ten or twelve more were affected, and those who went below to assist them up on deck fell victims at once to the same strange disorder. Everyone throughout the ship complained of a faint, sickly odour, and no sooner was this inhaled than a deadly lethargy seized upon them, and increased till they fell down and died. He happened to be on deck in the wheelhouse at the time, and saw half a dozen sailors and three of the passengers brought up, but remembered no more, for the sickly smell invaded the deck. He heard a singing in his ears, and the blood seemed to press heavily, as if driven upwards against the roof of his skull. He remembered no more for some hours. Then he, as it were, awoke, and got up on his legs, but again felt the same lethargy, and fell. When the disorder first attacked the ship’s company, the captain talked of stopping the steamer and signalling for assistance; but it appeared to be useless, for the fog was so thick that any flag, or rocket, or light would have been unnoticed at half a cable’s distance. Preparations were made to fire a gun, and the steam blast was ordered, but the engineer was dead, and no one would go below. The captain then descended to go to the engine-room, and was seen no more. Meantime the steamer continued her way. When he got on his legs in the wheelhouse, it was just after the bow of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> had carried away the boom of an unknown sailing ship, and he could feel that she was then going at a tremendous speed. The fog had cleared, and if he had had strength enough he could have made signals, but the deadly sleep came over him again, and he was unconscious till picked up by the crew of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i>.</p>
|
||||
<p>“This was all he could tell, and it threw no light upon the cause of the disaster. After he had signed this in a shaky hand—I have seen the original document—he sank rapidly, and, despite of every remedy and stimulant, died before noon. His body was the only one brought into port, and it was interred yesterday in the presence of a vast assembly. A postmortem examination failed to detect the slightest trace of poison or indication of disease; and all those who assisted in removing the dead bodies on board the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, declare that they presented no known symptoms of any epidemic—for the prevailing belief in New York at first was that some epidemic had broken out—a kind of plague, which destroyed its victims almost as soon as attacked. But for this there seems no foundation whatever. None of the sailors of the yacht caught the epidemic. One or two were unwell for a day or so, but are now well and hearty.</p>
|
||||
<p>“I think <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore’s suggestion the best that has been made—and it gradually gains ground with educated men, though the mass cling to the fanciful notion of foul play in some unheard-of way—<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore thinks that it was caused by the generation of coal-damp, or some similar and fatal gas, in the coal-bunkers of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>; and everything seems to favour this supposition. It is well-known that in cold weather—especially in cold weather accompanied by fog—coal-damp in mines is especially active and fatal. Most of the great explosions which have destroyed hundreds at once have occurred in such a state of the atmosphere.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Now the fog which came on that fatal morning was peculiarly thick and heavy, and it so happens that the coal in the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>’s bunkers came from a colliery where, only a fortnight ago, there was an explosion. The vapour, or gas, or whatever it was that was thus generated, was not the true coal-damp, or it would have been ignited by the furnaces of the boilers, or at the cook’s fires; but in all probability it was something very near akin to it. All the symptoms described by poor Burrows, are those of blood-poisoning combined with suffocation, and such would be the effects of a gas or vapour arising from coal. Fatal effects arising from damp coal in close bunkers are on record; but this is the worst ever heard of.</p>
|
||||
<p>“It would seem that after the engineer and the crew fell into their fatal slumbers, the steam in the boilers must have reached almost a bursting pressure—the boilers being untended—and the engineer, in falling, had opened the valve to the full, which accounts for the extraordinary speed of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> when pursued by the yacht. Being a very long vessel and sharp in the bows, and going at a very high speed, she would naturally keep nearly a direct course, as there was little wind or sea to interfere with her rudder. So soon as the fires burned out the engines stopped, and the sea rising, she became entirely at the mercy of the waves.</p>
|
||||
<p>“When Burrows fell a victim he saw nine or ten men on deck lying prone in a fatal sleep—when the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i> sent a boat’s crew on board there were but three bodies on deck; the rest had rolled, or been washed, overboard.</p>
|
||||
<p>“These are the principal particulars of this unprecedented catastrophe. This is a long letter, but I am sure that you will be eager for news upon the subject, and, to tell the truth, I cannot get it out of my mind, and it relieves me to write it down.</p>
|
||||
<p>“What a narrow escape we have all had. And especially me, for I came on to New York from Imola before the rest started, and got clear through without any snow. When it was found that they could not reach New York in time, I was in doubt whether to go by the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, or remain and accompany the main body in the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Saskatchewan</i>. Accident decided. I met an old friend whom I had not seen for years, and resolved to take advantage of the delay, and spend a day or two with him. So I escaped.</p>
|
||||
<p>“But had it not been for the snowstorm, which caused so much cursing at the time, we should one and all have perished miserably. The impression made upon us was so deep that just before the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Saskatchewan</i> started the whole body of the claimants attended a special service at a church here, when thanksgivings were offered for the escape they had had, and prayers offered up for future safety.</p>
|
||||
<p>“I look forward with much pleasure to my voyage in the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i> yacht, at <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette’s invitation. A finer, more gentlemanly man does not exist; and I am greatly impressed with the learning of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore.”</p>
|
||||
<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
|
||||
<p>“Not one of the seamen could be got to go below, or to approach the corpses on the deck; and even the mate, who did touch these last, had a reluctance to descend. It was, however, necessary to get another hawser attached to the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, and this occupied some little time; and by then the men became more accustomed to the ship, and at last, led by the mate, they went down.</p>
|
||||
<p>“At the foot of the staircase a terrible sight met their gaze. A heap of people—seamen, passengers, all classes—lay huddled up together—dead. They were piled one over the other in ghastly profusion, having been probably flung about by the rolling of the ship when she got broadside on. So great was the heap that they could not advance without either stepping upon the bodies, or removing them; and in this emergency they signalled to the yacht, which sent another boat, and in it came <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore.</p>
|
||||
<p>“He at once gave orders to make a passage and to explore the steamer thoroughly, which was done, and done speedily, for the sailors, having now conquered their superstitious fears, worked with a will. From that heap thirty-five bodies were carried up on deck, and laid upon one side in an awful row. They exhibited no traces of violence whatever. Their faces were quite calm; though one or two had the eyeballs staring from the head, as if they had struggled to escape suffocation.</p>
|
||||
<p>“A search through the steamer revealed a cargo of the dead. Passengers lay at the doors of their berths, some half-dressed; and five or six were discovered in their berths, having evidently died while asleep. The engineer lay on the floor of the engine-room with three assistants—stiff, and with features grimly distorted. They had apparently suffered more than the rest.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The crew were found in various places. The captain lay near the engine-room, as if he had been on his way to consult with the engineer when death overtook him. Bodies were found all over the ship, and exclamations constantly arose as the men discovered fresh corpses. The air between decks was close and confined, and there was a fetid odour which they supposed to arise from the bodies, and which forced them sometimes to run on deck to breathe. This odour caused many of the sailors to vomit, and one or two were really ill for a time.</p>
|
||||
<p>“It appeared that the whole ship’s crew and all the passengers had perished; but one of the sailors searching about found a man in the wheelhouse on deck, who on being lifted up showed some slight trace of life. The sailors crowded round, and the excitement was intense. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore, who is a physician by profession, lent the aid of his skill, and after a while the man began to come round, though unable to speak.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The captain of the yacht had now come on board, and a consultation was held, at which it was decided to run back to New York. But as the wind was strong and the sea high, and the hawsers strained a good deal, it was arranged to put a part of the crew of the yacht on board the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, to get up steam in her boilers, and shape a course for the States. To this the crew of the yacht strongly objected—they came aft in a body and respectfully begged not to be asked to stay on board the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>. They dreaded a similar fate to that which befell the crew and passengers of that unfortunate steamer.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The end of it was that <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore ordered the hawsers to be kept attached, and the yacht was to partly tow the steamer and she was to partly steam ahead herself—the steam was to be got up, and the engines driven at half speed. This would ease the hawsers and the yacht, and at the same time the crew on board the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> would be in communication with the yacht, and able to convey their wishes at once.</p>
|
||||
<p>“All agreed to this. Steam was easily got up, and the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>’s boilers and her engines were soon working, for the machinery was found to be in perfect order. By the time that this arrangement was perfected, and the ships were got well underway, the short day was nearly over, and with the night came anew the superstitions of the sailors. They murmured, and demurred to working a ship with a whole cargo of dead bodies. They would not move even across the deck alone, and as to going below it required them at once to face the mystery.</p>
|
||||
<p>“After an hour or so a clamour arose to pitch the dead overboard. What on earth was the use of keeping them? An abominable stench came up from between decks, and many of them could barely stand it. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore and the captain begged them to be calm, but it was in vain. They rose en masse, and in a short space of time every one of these dead bodies had been heaved overboard.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The gale had moderated, and the splash of each corpse as it fell into the water could be distinctly heard on board the yacht ahead. Such conduct cannot be too much deplored, and there was a talk of prosecuting the men for mutiny; but, on the other hand, there appears to be some excuse in the extraordinary and unprecedented horrors of the situation.</p>
|
||||
<p>“<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore remained on board the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, doing all that science and patience could do for the sole survivor, who proved to be the third officer. Towards sunrise he rallied considerably, but <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore never had any hopes, and advised the captain to take a note of his depositions, which was done.</p>
|
||||
<p>“His name, he said, was William Burrows, of Maine. He could only speak a few sentences at a time, and that very faintly, but the substance of it was that all went well with the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> up till early that morning, when first the fog came on. Very soon after the mist settled down, and speed was reduced, there was a commotion below, and a report spread through the ship that three men were dying. In ten minutes half a dozen more were taken in this manner. They complained merely of inability to breathe, and of a deadly weakness, and prayed to be taken on deck. This was done; but then ten or twelve more were affected, and those who went below to assist them up on deck fell victims at once to the same strange disorder. Everyone throughout the ship complained of a faint, sickly odour, and no sooner was this inhaled than a deadly lethargy seized upon them, and increased till they fell down and died. He happened to be on deck in the wheelhouse at the time, and saw half a dozen sailors and three of the passengers brought up, but remembered no more, for the sickly smell invaded the deck. He heard a singing in his ears, and the blood seemed to press heavily, as if driven upwards against the roof of his skull. He remembered no more for some hours. Then he, as it were, awoke, and got up on his legs, but again felt the same lethargy, and fell. When the disorder first attacked the ship’s company, the captain talked of stopping the steamer and signalling for assistance; but it appeared to be useless, for the fog was so thick that any flag, or rocket, or light would have been unnoticed at half a cable’s distance. Preparations were made to fire a gun, and the steam blast was ordered, but the engineer was dead, and no one would go below. The captain then descended to go to the engine-room, and was seen no more. Meantime the steamer continued her way. When he got on his legs in the wheelhouse, it was just after the bow of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> had carried away the boom of an unknown sailing ship, and he could feel that she was then going at a tremendous speed. The fog had cleared, and if he had had strength enough he could have made signals, but the deadly sleep came over him again, and he was unconscious till picked up by the crew of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i>.</p>
|
||||
<p>“This was all he could tell, and it threw no light upon the cause of the disaster. After he had signed this in a shaky hand—I have seen the original document—he sank rapidly, and, despite of every remedy and stimulant, died before noon. His body was the only one brought into port, and it was interred yesterday in the presence of a vast assembly. A postmortem examination failed to detect the slightest trace of poison or indication of disease; and all those who assisted in removing the dead bodies on board the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, declare that they presented no known symptoms of any epidemic—for the prevailing belief in New York at first was that some epidemic had broken out—a kind of plague, which destroyed its victims almost as soon as attacked. But for this there seems no foundation whatever. None of the sailors of the yacht caught the epidemic. One or two were unwell for a day or so, but are now well and hearty.</p>
|
||||
<p>“I think <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore’s suggestion the best that has been made—and it gradually gains ground with educated men, though the mass cling to the fanciful notion of foul play in some unheard-of way—<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore thinks that it was caused by the generation of coal-damp, or some similar and fatal gas, in the coal-bunkers of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>; and everything seems to favour this supposition. It is well-known that in cold weather—especially in cold weather accompanied by fog—coal-damp in mines is especially active and fatal. Most of the great explosions which have destroyed hundreds at once have occurred in such a state of the atmosphere.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Now the fog which came on that fatal morning was peculiarly thick and heavy, and it so happens that the coal in the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>’s bunkers came from a colliery where, only a fortnight ago, there was an explosion. The vapour, or gas, or whatever it was that was thus generated, was not the true coal-damp, or it would have been ignited by the furnaces of the boilers, or at the cook’s fires; but in all probability it was something very near akin to it. All the symptoms described by poor Burrows, are those of blood-poisoning combined with suffocation, and such would be the effects of a gas or vapour arising from coal. Fatal effects arising from damp coal in close bunkers are on record; but this is the worst ever heard of.</p>
|
||||
<p>“It would seem that after the engineer and the crew fell into their fatal slumbers, the steam in the boilers must have reached almost a bursting pressure—the boilers being untended—and the engineer, in falling, had opened the valve to the full, which accounts for the extraordinary speed of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> when pursued by the yacht. Being a very long vessel and sharp in the bows, and going at a very high speed, she would naturally keep nearly a direct course, as there was little wind or sea to interfere with her rudder. So soon as the fires burned out the engines stopped, and the sea rising, she became entirely at the mercy of the waves.</p>
|
||||
<p>“When Burrows fell a victim he saw nine or ten men on deck lying prone in a fatal sleep—when the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i> sent a boat’s crew on board there were but three bodies on deck; the rest had rolled, or been washed, overboard.</p>
|
||||
<p>“These are the principal particulars of this unprecedented catastrophe. This is a long letter, but I am sure that you will be eager for news upon the subject, and, to tell the truth, I cannot get it out of my mind, and it relieves me to write it down.</p>
|
||||
<p>“What a narrow escape we have all had. And especially me, for I came on to New York from Imola before the rest started, and got clear through without any snow. When it was found that they could not reach New York in time, I was in doubt whether to go by the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, or remain and accompany the main body in the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Saskatchewan</i>. Accident decided. I met an old friend whom I had not seen for years, and resolved to take advantage of the delay, and spend a day or two with him. So I escaped.</p>
|
||||
<p>“But had it not been for the snowstorm, which caused so much cursing at the time, we should one and all have perished miserably. The impression made upon us was so deep that just before the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Saskatchewan</i> started the whole body of the claimants attended a special service at a church here, when thanksgivings were offered for the escape they had had, and prayers offered up for future safety.</p>
|
||||
<p>“I look forward with much pleasure to my voyage in the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i> yacht, at <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Baskette’s invitation. A finer, more gentlemanly man does not exist; and I am greatly impressed with the learning of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Theodore.”</p>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Aymer was much struck with the contents of this letter of Anthony Baskelette’s. The whole tragedy seemed to pass before his mind; his vivid imagination called up a picture of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>, steaming as fast as bursting pressure could drive her with a crew of corpses across the winter sea. He made an extract from it, and sent it to Violet. Next day they were en route for Stirmingham.</p>
|
||||
<p>At the same moment the designer of this horrible event was steaming across the Atlantic in his splendid yacht, gulling weak-minded, simple Baskelette with highest notions of honour, and whatnot. When Marese found that the snow had blocked the line and prevented access to New York, his rage and disappointment knew no bounds; but he was sufficiently master of himself to think and decide upon the course to be pursued.</p>
|
||||
<p>Although that part of the diabolical scheme which aimed at the wholesale destruction of the claimants had failed, all the other sections of it were in train to succeed. The bullion was shipped, the cargo a rich one, the steamer herself valuable—no better prize could ever fall to him. Therefore he telegraphed to Theodore in cipher to proceed as had been arranged.</p>
|
||||
|
|
@ -37,7 +39,7 @@
|
|||
<p>Nothing more fortunate for the conspirators than this fog could have happened, for its service did not end here—it furnished a plausible explanation of what would have otherwise been inexplicable.</p>
|
||||
<p>Theodore easily contrived the removal of the fatal case, now empty, on board the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i> after the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> had returned to port. The case had been consigned to Liverpool, which was the port the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was bound for, and the excuse for sending it by the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i> was all cut and dried—<abbr epub:type="z3998:initialism">i.e.</abbr>, that the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i> was for London.</p>
|
||||
<p>Nothing was more natural than that, after this narrow escape, it should be wished to transfer the case to the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Gloire de Dijon</i>. This was done; and while at sea Theodore quietly removed his machine and pitched it into the water at night, and it sank in the abyss, being lined with iron inside.</p>
|
||||
<p>The question of salvage bid fair to occupy the Courts in New York for some considerable time, and to be a boon to the lawyers; but the two conspirators were far too keen to let their prize slip from them in that way. They managed to have the matter referred to arbitration, and the final result was that 400,000 pounds was awarded. This amount they at once transferred to London, and with it plunged at once into fresh schemes.</p>
|
||||
<p>The question of salvage bid fair to occupy the Courts in New York for some considerable time, and to be a boon to the lawyers; but the two conspirators were far too keen to let their prize slip from them in that way. They managed to have the matter referred to arbitration, and the final result was that £400,000 was awarded. This amount they at once transferred to London, and with it plunged at once into fresh schemes.</p>
|
||||
</section>
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@ -38,8 +38,8 @@
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<p>A strange man on horseback was seen riding up to The Place. This was so rare an event that Violet’s heart beat fast, fearing lest even at the eleventh hour something should happen to cause delay. She waited; her hands trembled. Even the delicious toilet had to be suspended.</p>
|
||||
<p>Footsteps came up the staircase, and then the maidservant, bearing in her hand a small parcel, advanced to Miss Waldron. With trembling fingers she cut the string—it was a delicate casket of mother-of-pearl. The key was in it; she opened the lid, and an involuntary exclamation of surprise and admiration burst from her lips.</p>
|
||||
<p>There lay the loveliest necklace of pearls that ever the sun had shone upon. Rich, costly pearls—pearls that were exactly fitted above all jewels for her—pearls that she had always wished for—pearls! They were round her neck in a moment.</p>
|
||||
<p>Miss Merton was in raptures; the maidservant lost her wits, and ran downstairs calling everyone to go up and see Miss Vi’<!-- is this right? --> let “in them shiners!”</p>
|
||||
<p>For a while, in the surprise and wonder, the donor had been forgotten. Under the necklace was a delicate pink note, offering Lady Lechester’s sincere desire that Miss Waldron would long wear her little present, and wishing her every good thing. When the wedding trip was over, would <abbr><em>Mrs.</em></abbr> Aymer Malet let her know that she might call?</p>
|
||||
<p>Miss Merton was in raptures; the maidservant lost her wits, and ran downstairs calling everyone to go up and see Miss Vi’let “in them shiners!”</p>
|
||||
<p>For a while, in the surprise and wonder, the donor had been forgotten. Under the necklace was a delicate pink note, offering Lady Lechester’s sincere desire that Miss Waldron would long wear her little present, and wishing her every good thing. When the wedding trip was over, would <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Aymer Malet let her know that she might call?</p>
|
||||
<p>Violet was not perfect any more than other girls; she had naturally a vein of pride; she did feel no little elation at this auspicious mark of attention and regard from a person in Lady Lechester’s position. The rank of the donor added to the value of the gift.</p>
|
||||
<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Waldron was much affected by this token of esteem. He could not express his pleasure to the giver, because her messenger had galloped off the moment he had delivered the parcel. The importance of the bride, great enough before, immediately rose ninety percent, in the eyes of Miss Merton, and a hundred and fifty percent, in the eyes of the lower classes.</p>
|
||||
<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Waldron, examining the pearls with the eye of a connoisseur, valued them at the very lowest at two hundred guineas. The involuntary tears of the poor pilgrim at the shrine of art had indeed solidified into gems!</p>
|
||||
|
|
|
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|
|
@ -35,7 +35,7 @@
|
|||
<p>Scarcely three days after the election, Marese drove up to The Towers, and was received with a stately courtesy—a proud indifference which bewildered Violet. She knew, or thought she knew, that Agnes’s heart was beating with excitement—yet how calm, how distant and formal she appeared.</p>
|
||||
<p>Violet looked with interest upon Marese, having heard so much of him from Aymer and Agnes.</p>
|
||||
<p>On his part, meeting her attentive gaze and hearing her name, Marese slightly started, recovered himself, and bowed profoundly. His attention was wholly bestowed upon Lechester; the conversation between them seemed to Violet constrained and cold to the last degree. She could not help acknowledging that Marese was a handsome man—far handsomer in features and figure than was Aymer. But how different! In her heart of hearts she pitied poor Agnes if such was her choice.</p>
|
||||
<p>They betrayed no desire whatever to be alone; on the contrary, Agnes particularly desired Violet to remain in the apartment with them. Their talk was of distant things, till it travelled round to the scene of Marese’s candidature, and finally fixed itself upon the great case. Marese was extremely sanguine in his language, and indeed he was so in reality. He had gained two important steps he said. In the first place he had partly paid off the claims of the companies for expenses incurred during their tenure of the leases, on the pretence of improving the estate. These expenses reached a preposterous figure; he had succeeded in getting them taxed and considerably reduced, and he had also succeeded in obtaining an order from the Court of Chancery that the payment of these claims should be made by instalments. He casually mentioned that the first instalment of 100,000 pounds had been paid yesterday. The second step was his admittance to Parliament, which, properly worked, would enable him to obtain the support of the party now in power.</p>
|
||||
<p>They betrayed no desire whatever to be alone; on the contrary, Agnes particularly desired Violet to remain in the apartment with them. Their talk was of distant things, till it travelled round to the scene of Marese’s candidature, and finally fixed itself upon the great case. Marese was extremely sanguine in his language, and indeed he was so in reality. He had gained two important steps he said. In the first place he had partly paid off the claims of the companies for expenses incurred during their tenure of the leases, on the pretence of improving the estate. These expenses reached a preposterous figure; he had succeeded in getting them taxed and considerably reduced, and he had also succeeded in obtaining an order from the Court of Chancery that the payment of these claims should be made by instalments. He casually mentioned that the first instalment of £100,000 had been paid yesterday. The second step was his admittance to Parliament, which, properly worked, would enable him to obtain the support of the party now in power.</p>
|
||||
<p>Still further, the great family council had blown over without result. The mountain had been in labour, and a mouse had sprung forth. That spectre which had hovered over the city of Stirmingham so long—the spectre of the American claims—had at last put in its appearance, and was found to be hollow and unsubstantial. He did not think there was anything more to be dreaded from that spectral host. The building societies even, despaired of being able to prolong the contest by supporting the American claims. They could no longer refuse to give up possession on the ground that they did not know who was the true heir. It could not be denied who was the heir.</p>
|
||||
<p>Marese stayed but one afternoon. He was too wise to make himself common. Before he went he formally asked for a private interview. What passed Violet easily gathered from what Agnes said to her afterwards.</p>
|
||||
<p>“<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Broughton will be here in a day or two,” she said; “tell <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Malet to come with him. The mortgages I have told you of are to be paid off; Broughton will manage it.”</p>
|
||||
|
|
|
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|
|
@ -79,7 +79,7 @@
|
|||
<p>“Silence! Be quiet. She is safe—your cries will ruin all. She is safe in this very building.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Impossible—I can’t believe it; it is all a blind. I must go to Belthrop; I must see Broughton. Good God, how weak I am!”</p>
|
||||
<p>He fell exhausted back into his chair.</p>
|
||||
<p>“How foolish of you!” said Fulk, gently. “But I can understand it. Now, I will tell you how I learnt all this. It was very simple. When I found that there was no escape through your room, I tried the other wall. I removed the clock from the bracket, and bored a small hole. Frequently I had to stop, because I heard voices. I found the next room to mine was one of Theodore’s own private apartments: it is the sitting-room, in fact. Beyond it is his laboratory. I should like to know what is in that laboratory: if we escape, I <i>will</i> know. He and Marese used to meet here and converse. I heard them; I listened. I tell you I heard things that would make your flesh creep. Are you better?”</p>
|
||||
<p>“How foolish of you!” said Fulk, gently. “But I can understand it. Now, I will tell you how I learnt all this. It was very simple. When I found that there was no escape through your room, I tried the other wall. I removed the clock from the bracket, and bored a small hole. Frequently I had to stop, because I heard voices. I found the next room to mine was one of Theodore’s own private apartments: it is the sitting-room, in fact. Beyond it is his laboratory. I should like to know what is in that laboratory: if we escape, I <em>will</em> know. He and Marese used to meet here and converse. I heard them; I listened. I tell you I heard things that would make your flesh creep. Are you better?”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Yes; oh, that I was stronger! There is wine on the table. Do you think I might drink it safely?”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Certainly not; but you had better pretend that you have. Pour some behind the grate; get rid of it somehow, or they will put the poison in your food. Well, I heard things about a certain ship, the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“The <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.boat">Lucca</i>—she was found a derelict.”</p>
|
||||
|
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|
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|
|
@ -14,7 +14,7 @@
|
|||
<p>It was a warm, beautiful evening. The same lucent planet that had so often shone upon Lady Lechester during her visit to the fatal “Pot,” glittered in the western sky: but its beams were somewhat dimmed by the new moon, whose crescent was on the point of disappearing below the horizon. Fulk, pushing slowly and sadly through the woods and copses, inhaled the fragrance of the pine tree. The rabbits scattered at his approach; now and then a wood pigeon rose into the air, with a tremendous clatter. In the open it was still light; under the trees a dusky shadow brooded. At a distance, he could faintly hear the sound of rushing water, and the fidgety chirping of the restless brook-sparrows and sedge-warblers. Suddenly there rose a shrill, piping sound; and Fulk started, and his heart for a moment stood still. He listened; then came a strange weird music—if music it could be called—for in its indescribable cadences it reminded him of the playing of the savages in far-off shores, visited years ago. But he recognised it in an instant. He had heard Odo play similar notes when they were boys. Gently, gently, he crept through the brushwood, and holding a branch aside, looked down from the bank upon the stream. It rushed along swiftly with a murmuring sound, reflecting upon its surface the image of the bright planet. The sedges and reeds rustled in the light breeze; and there was Odo. Across the stream there was a fallen tree—the very tree Odo had loved in his youth—and astride upon that tree sat the Beast-Man, his feet nearly touching the water, playing upon a tin whistle. Before him was the dog Dando, standing on his hind legs, and moving in grotesque time to the music. Odo reproached the dog, and told him that he was an unworthy son of his father, and could not dance half so well—had he already forgotten his beating? But perhaps it was the fault of his whistle. Ah, he had lost his best whistle—the one he had made with selected tin, and ornamented with pictures of his dogs—among them Dando’s father, who danced so much better. Then he muttered incoherent, half-articulate sounds to the dog, sighed deeply, and began to play again. Poor Odo!</p>
|
||||
<p>Fulk hesitated. There was a large soul in his little body—he pitied the poor fellow before him from the bottom of his heart. All that singular being wanted was the open air, and freedom to play his tin whistle, fondle his dogs, roam in the woods, and tinker up pots and kettles. Had he been permitted to follow these inclinations, it was doubtful if he would ever have committed crime; but civilisation would not permit it. For a whole year he had been roaming from wood to wood, from wilderness to wilderness, whistling, tinkering sometimes, always happy in simple freedom. Probably he had destroyed Lady Agnes to obtain the dog, the progenitor of which appeared to have been a favourite in old times. But Fulk reflected that, while he hesitated, Aymer languished in the cell, Violet was wearing her heart out, and his own liberty was endangered. Moreover, there was a duty to society: such beings must not go wholly at large, or no one would be safe.</p>
|
||||
<p>The lasso hissed through the air, the noose dropped round Odo’s neck, and was drawn tight in an instant. It had taken his neck and one shoulder. He roared aloud with pain and anger, but the cord choked him. His arms struck out, but he had nothing to grasp. He was dragged on shore in a moment. He floundered—leapt up, and fell again, tearing at the rope like a wild beast taken in the toils. With a swift, dexterous turn of the hand, Fulk wound the cord about his arms and legs, much as a spider might its web about a fly, till Odo lay panting on the sward, helpless, but still hoarsely murmuring and grunting. Then Fulk loosened the lasso round his neck, and proceeded to tie the limbs tighter, finally binding him hard and fast to a tree. Odo’s frame quivered; and Fulk, in the dim light, fancied that great tears gathered in his eyes. After binding Odo, there was still a piece of the rope left: with this Fulk secured the dog, which, frightened and astonished, had cowered on the earth. Dando evidently had no affection for Odo: he had been wiled away by gypsy arts only. Then, leading Dando, Fulk set off at a run, tearing through wood and hedge, mounting the steep Downs, fast as his strength could carry him, away for Barnham town.</p>
|
||||
<p>At that very time, late into the night, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Broughton was conferring with the prisoner in his cell. He had been sent for in haste, and went quickly fearing lest Aymer should be ill. The parcel addressed to Aymer Malet in Lady Lechester’s handwriting was a large antique Bible, which Aymer recognised in a moment as having belonged to old Jenkins, the gardener at The Place. He had seen it lying about, but had taken no notice of it. It was in fact the very Bible Lady Agnes had purchased of the gardener’s wife when left in destitution by her husband’s imprisonment. Inside the Bible was a short formal note, dated the very day in the evening of which Lady Agnes was drowned, stating that the writer when she bought the book was unaware to whom it had belonged, and therefore returned it to Aymer’s address—not knowing Violet’s—as she desired to retain nothing of theirs. She added that she would return the dog Dando if they would receive it, and tell her where to send it. Aymer, having no occupation in his cell but melancholy thoughts and anxious cares about Violet, naturally turned over the leaves of the noble old book, and looking at it closer than before he found at the end, upon one of the spare leaves, a curious inscription which purported to be a copy from a tomb. It was in Latin, English, and Greek—a strange, fantastic mixture—and when translated, read to the effect that Arthur Sibbold Waldron, whilom of Wolf’s Glow, born Sibbold, afterwards Sibbold Waldron, was married at Saint S—Church, Middlesex, and was buried at Penge in Kent—with dates, and the usual sentiments. The entry in the Bible simply added: “Copy of ye inscription, now defaced. Mem. To have the same re-cut. B.W.” Here was the clue Aymer had searched for in vain, thrown into his hands, by the operation of those strange and mysterious circumstances over which no one has any control. He sent for <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Broughton; and so it was that when Fulk found that gentleman it was in the cell. The surprise of Aymer, and his pleasure at seeing Fulk, his still greater joy and relief when Fulk in his first sentence announced that Violet was safe, can easily be imagined. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Broughton had no sooner heard Fulk’s explanation than he at once comprehended the importance of securing Odo. He and Fulk with two assistants drove as near the wood as practicable, and after much trouble safely lodged the unfortunate lunatic in the hands of the police. Fulk remained with Broughton, who very considerately went in his carriage in the morning over to The Place, and brought Violet and Hannah Bond to his own private residence in Barnham.</p>
|
||||
<p>At that very time, late into the night, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Broughton was conferring with the prisoner in his cell. He had been sent for in haste, and went quickly fearing lest Aymer should be ill. The parcel addressed to Aymer Malet in Lady Lechester’s handwriting was a large antique Bible, which Aymer recognised in a moment as having belonged to old Jenkins, the gardener at The Place. He had seen it lying about, but had taken no notice of it. It was in fact the very Bible Lady Agnes had purchased of the gardener’s wife when left in destitution by her husband’s imprisonment. Inside the Bible was a short formal note, dated the very day in the evening of which Lady Agnes was drowned, stating that the writer when she bought the book was unaware to whom it had belonged, and therefore returned it to Aymer’s address—not knowing Violet’s—as she desired to retain nothing of theirs. She added that she would return the dog Dando if they would receive it, and tell her where to send it. Aymer, having no occupation in his cell but melancholy thoughts and anxious cares about Violet, naturally turned over the leaves of the noble old book, and looking at it closer than before he found at the end, upon one of the spare leaves, a curious inscription which purported to be a copy from a tomb. It was in Latin, English, and Greek—a strange, fantastic mixture—and when translated, read to the effect that Arthur Sibbold Waldron, whilom of Wolf’s Glow, born Sibbold, afterwards Sibbold Waldron, was married at Saint S⸺Church, Middlesex, and was buried at Penge in Kent—with dates, and the usual sentiments. The entry in the Bible simply added: “Copy of ye inscription, now defaced. <abbr>Mem.</abbr> To have the same re-cut. <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">B. W.</abbr>” Here was the clue Aymer had searched for in vain, thrown into his hands, by the operation of those strange and mysterious circumstances over which no one has any control. He sent for <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Broughton; and so it was that when Fulk found that gentleman it was in the cell. The surprise of Aymer, and his pleasure at seeing Fulk, his still greater joy and relief when Fulk in his first sentence announced that Violet was safe, can easily be imagined. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Broughton had no sooner heard Fulk’s explanation than he at once comprehended the importance of securing Odo. He and Fulk with two assistants drove as near the wood as practicable, and after much trouble safely lodged the unfortunate lunatic in the hands of the police. Fulk remained with Broughton, who very considerately went in his carriage in the morning over to The Place, and brought Violet and Hannah Bond to his own private residence in Barnham.</p>
|
||||
<p>At the inquiry that followed, the first step was the release of Aymer on bail, on the testimony of Hannah Bond, that he had not left the cottage at Belthrop till eight o’clock. The ploughboy, when shown Odo, at once declared that this was the man he had seen—“A’ had such mortal big ears—a’ minded that, now.” And Marese? His position became extremely awkward. It was easy to declare that Aymer was a lunatic; but when Fulk was produced—when the clever escape was related in exactly the same manner by both—when Fulk added what he had overheard about the murder of Jason Waldron, Marese could not but notice that the magistrates and the Court looked coldly upon him. He claimed them both as escaped lunatics. Said the Bench—</p>
|
||||
<p>“We don’t see what right you have to them. The owner of the asylum is dead. We will take it upon ourselves to say, that the lunatics, for lunatics, have a remarkably sane way of talking.”</p>
|
||||
<p>The result was, that Marese withdrew; the more he meddled with the matter, the worse it became for him. To add to the evil complexion of affairs, Odo confessed in his cell to the murder of Jason Waldron. He strenuously denied having touched Lady Agnes; he declared that his sole object was the dog. The dog was the descendant of an old favourite, and he had once followed Miss Merton to Torquay to get it. But as he stole round from behind the oak trunk to seize the dog, Lady Agnes saw him, started, missed her footing, and fell down “The Pot.” He knew her—she was his cousin, and he had no feeling against her. In all probability this story was true, as no marks of violence were found on the body. But he frankly confessed hitting Jason Waldron on the head with the billhook; and stated exactly what Fulk had already said—that he was told by Theodore Marese, if he killed that man, <em>and his daughter</em> (Aymer shuddered), he should be always free. He had laid in wait for the daughter; but she was out of his reach at The Towers.</p>
|
||||
|
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|
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|
|
@ -13,7 +13,7 @@
|
|||
<p>He took up the book—the cause of his depression—and, still ashamed of himself, began to search it for any reference to his own name. In vain; Malet was not mentioned, there were no unclaimed legacies, no bank dividends accumulating, no estates without an owner waiting for him to take possession—it was an absolute blank. The shilling had been utterly wasted.</p>
|
||||
<p>As he sat thinking over his position, the idea occurred to him to see what mention the book made of the great estate at Stirmingham.</p>
|
||||
<p>There were pages upon pages devoted to Sibbolds and Baskettes, just as he expected. Aymer ran down the list, recalling, as he went, the scenes he had witnessed in the Sternhold Hall.</p>
|
||||
<p>At the foot of one page was a short note in small type, and a name which caught his eye—“Bury Wick Church.” He read it—it stated that it was uncertain what had become of Arthur Sibbold, the heir by the entail, and that inquiries had failed to elucidate his fate. There was a statement, made on very little authority, that he had been buried in Bury Wick Church, <abbr>co.</abbr> B—, but researches there had revealed nothing. Either he had died a pauper, and had been interred without a tombstone, or else <em>he had changed his name</em>. It was this last sentence that in an instant threw a flood of light, as it were, into Aymer’s mind—<em>changed his name</em>.</p>
|
||||
<p>At the foot of one page was a short note in small type, and a name which caught his eye—“Bury Wick Church.” He read it—it stated that it was uncertain what had become of Arthur Sibbold, the heir by the entail, and that inquiries had failed to elucidate his fate. There was a statement, made on very little authority, that he had been buried in Bury Wick Church, <abbr>co.</abbr> B⸺, but researches there had revealed nothing. Either he had died a pauper, and had been interred without a tombstone, or else <em>he had changed his name</em>. It was this last sentence that in an instant threw a flood of light, as it were, into Aymer’s mind—<em>changed his name</em>.</p>
|
||||
<p>Full of excitement, he rushed to his little portmanteau, tore out his notebook, and quickly found the memorandum made in the office of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Broughton, at Barnham.</p>
|
||||
<p>There was the explanation of the disappearance of Arthur Sibbold—there was the advertisement in a small local newspaper of his intended marriage and change of name. Doubtless he had afterwards been known as <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Waldron—had been buried as Waldron, and his death registered as Waldron. As Waldron of The Place, World’s End! Then poor old Jason Waldron, the kindest man that ever lived, was in reality the true heir to the vast estate at Stirmingham.</p>
|
||||
<p>Jason was dead, but Violet remained. Violet was the heiress. He sat, perfectly overwhelmed with his own discovery, of which he never entertained a moment’s doubt. He ransacked his memory of what he had heard at the family council; tried to recall the evidence that had been produced at that memorable <em>fiasco</em>; but found it hard to do so, for at the time his mind was far away with Violet, and he had no personal interest in the proceedings. Had he only known—what an opportunity he would have had—he might have learnt the smallest particulars.</p>
|
||||
|
|
@ -30,7 +30,7 @@
|
|||
<p>The long, long hours and days that he had spent in the Sternhold Hall chronicling the proceedings of the council, and which he had at the time so heartily hated soon proved of the utmost value. He could at once understand what was wanted, and perceive the value of the smallest link of evidence. Here was one link obviously wanting—the deed. Without that deed the descent of Violet from Arthur Sibbold was comparatively of small account. It was possible that even then she might be a co-heiress; but without that deed—which specially included female heiresses—she would not be able to claim the entire estate. Yet even then, as the direct descendant of the elder brother, her claim would be extremely valuable, and far more likely to succeed than the very distant chance of the American Sibbolds or Baskettes, all of whom laboured under the disadvantage that their forefathers had sold their birthright for a mess of pottage. Another and far more serious difficulty which occurred to him as he thought over the matter, far into the night, was the absence of proof of Arthur Sibbold’s marriage. It was clear from the little book whose notes had opened his eyes, that the register of the church at Bury Wick, World’s End, had been searched, and no record found. His memorandum of the advertisement of change of name described Arthur Sibbold as of Middlesex; the marriage therefore might have taken place in London. Probably Sibbold had met the Miss Waldron he had afterwards married in town. Where then was he to find the register of marriage? Middlesex was a wide definition. How many churches were there in Middlesex? What a Herculean labour to search through them all!</p>
|
||||
<p>He was too much excited to sleep. Despite of all these drawbacks—the disappearance of the deed, and the absence of the marriage certificate—there was no reasonable doubt that Violet was the heiress of the Stirmingham estates. The difficulties that were in the way appeared to him as nothing; he would force his way through them. She should have her rights—and then! He would search every church in London till he did find the register of Arthur Sibbold’s marriage. It must be in existence somewhere. If it was in existence he would find it. Towards two o’clock in the morning he fell asleep, and, as a result, did not wake till ten next day. Hurrying to his daily task, he was met with frowns and curses for neglect, and venturing to remonstrate, was discharged upon the spot.</p>
|
||||
<p>Here seemed an end at once to all his golden dreams. He walked back into the City, and passing along Fleet Street, was stopped for a moment by a crowd of people staring into the window of a print and bookshop, and talking excitedly. A momentary curiosity led him to press through the crowd, till he could obtain a view of the window. There he saw—wonder of wonders—one of his own sketches, an illustration from his book, greatly enlarged, and printed in colours. It was this that had attracted the crowd. The humour and yet the pathos of the picture—the touch of Nature which makes the whole world kin—had gone straight to their hearts. On every side he heard the question, “Whose is it?”—“Who drew it?”—“What’s the artist’s name?” Then the title of the book was repeated, and “Who’s it by?”—“Who wrote it?”—“I’ll get a copy! Third Edition already—it must be good.”</p>
|
||||
<p>Gratified, wonder-stricken, proud, and yet bewildered, Aymer at last got into the shop and made inquiries. Then he learnt that the publisher had stolen a march upon him. They had never sent him the proofs; they had in fact thought very little of the book, till one day it happened (it happened again) a famous artist came into the office, and chanced to turn over a leaf of the MS, which was lying where Aymer had left it, on the publisher’s wide desk. This man had a worldwide reputation, and feared no competitor; he could therefore do justice to others. He was greatly struck with the sketches.</p>
|
||||
<p>Gratified, wonder-stricken, proud, and yet bewildered, Aymer at last got into the shop and made inquiries. Then he learnt that the publisher had stolen a march upon him. They had never sent him the proofs; they had in fact thought very little of the book, till one day it happened (it happened again) a famous artist came into the office, and chanced to turn over a leaf of the <abbr>MS.</abbr>, which was lying where Aymer had left it, on the publisher’s wide desk. This man had a worldwide reputation, and feared no competitor; he could therefore do justice to others. He was greatly struck with the sketches.</p>
|
||||
<p>“This man will make his fortune,” he said. “Why on earth do you let the book lie here mouldering?”</p>
|
||||
<p>The publisher said nothing, but next day the manuscript was put in hand, hurried out, and well advertised. The first and second edition sold out in a week, and Aymer heard nothing of it till accident led him into the crowd round the shop window in Fleet Street.</p>
|
||||
<p>It will be pardoned if I say that Aymer was prouder that day than ever he had been in his life. He went straight to the publisher’s with a glowing heart. The agreement had been that the publisher should have two editions for his trouble and the use of his name; in the third, the author and artist was to share. In point of fact, the publisher had never dreamt of the book reaching even a second edition.</p>
|
||||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
@ -29,7 +29,7 @@
|
|||
<p>Early in the spring the labourers struck, and the strike extended to Belthrop. The months passed on, the farmers were in difficulty, and meantime the wretched labourers were half-starved. Albert was furious, for he could not get his wheat sown, and upon that crop he depended to meet his engagements. Yet he was the one of all others, at a meeting which was called, to persuade the farmers to hold out; and above all he abused Jenkins, the secretary; called him a traitor, a firebrand, an incendiary. The meeting broke up without result; and it was on that very evening that Violet arrived. The third evening afterwards she was suddenly called out by gossiping old Hannah Bond, who rushed in, in a state of intense excitement—</p>
|
||||
<p>“Farmer Herring’s ricks be all ablaze!”</p>
|
||||
<p>Violet was dragged out by the old woman, and beheld a magnificent, and yet a sad sight. Eight and thirty ricks, placed in a double row, were on fire. About half had caught when she came out. As she stood watching, with the glare in the sky reflected upon her face, she saw the flames run along from one to another, till the whole rickyard was one mass of roaring fire. The outbuildings, the stables, and cow-houses, all thatched, caught soon after—finally the dwelling-house.</p>
|
||||
<p>The farm being situated upon the Downs, the flames and sparks were seen for miles and miles in the darkness of the night, and the glare in the sky still farther. The whole countryside turned out in wonder and alarm; hundreds and hundreds trooped over Down and meadow to the spot. Efforts were made by scores of willing hands to stay the flames—efforts which seemed ridiculously futile before that fearful blast; for with the fire there rose a wind caused by the heated column of air ascending, and the draught was like that of a furnace. Nothing could have saved the place—not all the engines in London, even had there been water; and the soil being chalky, and the situation elevated, there was but one deep well. As it was, no engine reached the spot till long after the fire was practically over—Barnham engine came in the grey of the morning, having been raced over the hills fully fifteen miles. By that time, all that was left of that noble farmhouse and rickyard, was some two-score heaps of smoking ashes, smouldering and emitting intense heat.</p>
|
||||
<p>The farm being situated upon the Downs, the flames and sparks were seen for miles and miles in the darkness of the night, and the glare in the sky still farther. The whole countryside turned out in wonder and alarm; hundreds and hundreds trooped over Down and meadow to the spot. Efforts were made by scores of willing hands to stay the flames—efforts which seemed ridiculously futile before that fearful blast; for with the fire there rose a wind caused by the heated column of air ascending, and the draught was like that of a furnace. Nothing could have saved the place—not all the engines in London, even had there been water; and the soil being chalky, and the situation elevated, there was but one deep well. As it was, no engine reached the spot till long after the fire was practically over—Barnham engine came in the grey of the morning, having been raced over the hills fully fifteen miles. By that time, all that was left of that noble farmhouse and rickyard, was some twoscore heaps of smoking ashes, smouldering and emitting intense heat.</p>
|
||||
<p>Hundreds upon hundreds stood looking on, and among them there moved dark figures:—policemen—who had hastily gathered together.</p>
|
||||
<p>And where was Albert Herring? Was he ruined? He at that moment recked nothing of the fire. He was stooping—in a lowly cottage at a little distance—over the form of his only son, a boy of ten. The family had easily escaped before the dwelling-house took fire, and were, to all intents and purposes, safe; but this lad slipped off, as a lad would do, to follow his father, and watch the flames. A burning beam from one of the outhouses struck him down. Albert heard a scream; turned, and saw his boy beneath the flaring, glowing timber. He shrieked—literally shrieked—and tore at the beam with his scorched hands till the flesh came off.</p>
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<p>At last the onlookers lifted the beam. The lad was fearfully burnt—one whole shoulder seemed injured—and the doctors gave no hope of his life. (As I cannot return to this matter, it may be as well to state that he did not die—he recovered slowly, but perfectly.) Yet what must the agony of that man’s mind have been while the child lay upon the bed in the lowly cottage? Let the fire roar and hiss, let rooftree fall and ruin come—life, flickering life more precious than the whole world—only save him this one little life.</p>
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