Chapter Twenty One.
An Unexpected Meeting.
As the man was dead, it was useless to trouble further about him, especially as there were so many of the living to be attended to; I therefore turned again toward the occupants of the cabin and said: “Ladies and gentlemen, I am very pleased to be able to assure you that you have no further cause for apprehension; the privateer has been captured and this vessel retaken by the boats of his Britannic majesty’s schooner Dolphin, under my command; my men are now busy, on deck and on board the brigantine, securing the prisoners; and it will be my duty—Good heavens—it cannot be—and yet it surely is—my father!”
I had, whilst speaking, been gradually advancing nearer to the table, and consequently more directly into the full light of the cabin lamps; and my speech had been interrupted, and the above startled exclamation wrung from me, by seeing one of the occupants of the sofas rise with difficulty to his feet to gaze with an expression of intense eagerness in my direction. My attention had thus, naturally, been attracted toward him, and I could scarcely credit the evidence of my senses when, in the worn and somewhat haggard features of the gazer, I recognised the well-remembered lineaments of my father. Yet so it was, there could be no mistake about it; for as I sprang toward him, he ejaculated my name, “Lionel,” and, overcome with emotion, reeled and fell, bound hand and foot as he was, into my arms. As I embraced him our lips met, and I then received almost the first paternal kiss of which I had ever been conscious.
I tenderly reseated him on the sofa, and, throwing myself on my knees before him, busied myself in casting loose the lashings which confined his feet, glad to have so good an excuse for bowing my head, and thus concealing the tears of emotion which sprang to my eyes. My father was even more overcome than I was. I felt his hot tears falling upon my hands as he bent over me; and it was not until I had completely released him that he regained composure enough to ejaculate, as he fervently grasped my hand:
“Thank God—oh! thank God for this most unexpected and welcome meeting, my precious boy, my own Lionel; and still more for your opportune arrival. You and your brave fellows made known your presence just in time to prevent what in another moment would have become a perfect pandemonium of violence, and probably of murder also. You are welcome, my son, most welcome, not only to me, but also, I am sure, to everyone else in this cabin.”
This assurance was heartily echoed by everybody present, with the exception of the unhappy lady in whose arms lay the wounded child, and she was evidently too much absorbed in her own grief to notice or be conscious of what was taking place. The sight of her and her misery recalled me to myself, and reminded me of the many duties I yet had to perform; so leaning over my father and pressing a kiss upon his forehead - down which, by the way, the blood was slowly trickling from a slight cutlass wound—I said:
“Thank you, dear father, for your affectionate greeting. I must not remain any longer with you, however, for the present, glad as I am to have so unexpectedly met you; I have many matters yet which must be attended to; but I will rejoin you without fail the moment I feel myself at liberty to do so. Meanwhile, have no fear of any further violence; a strong detachment of my crew is in possession of both vessels, and the schooner herself is not far distant. I will send some men in to release your companions from their bonds and to help you all in putting matters straight once more; and, as I see that several of you have been wounded in defence of the ship, I will at once despatch a boat—if, indeed, she be not already gone—for the Dolphin’s surgeon.”
“Many thanks to you, young gentleman, for your kind offer,” exclaimed one of the occupants of the sofa, “but if you’ll kindly draw your knife across these lashings of mine you need not call your surgeon away from your own men—who, I’ll be bound, stand in greater need of his services than we do. I am the doctor of this ship, and if I can only get my hands and legs free I’ll soon attend to my share of the patients, and then help my brother saw-bones to attend to his as well, if, indeed, he cares to accept my help.”
“Thank you, my dear sir,” said I, “Mr Sanderson will be only too glad to avail himself of your services, I know; for I fear our casualties to-night will prove to be very heavy when we have time to reckon them up. Allow me.”
I at once set to work to cast the worthy medico adrift, my father at the same time performing a like office for those nearest him; and, having released the doctor, I then hurried out on deck to see how matters were progressing.
I encountered the coxswain and several of the gig’s crew on the quarter-deck. They were just about to enter the cabin in search of me to report that the ship had been searched and all the Frenchmen on board secured and passed down the side into the brigantine, and to inquire what they should next do. Looking over the Indiaman’s lofty bulwarks down on to the deck of the brigantine, I saw that there too the prisoners had been secured and passed below, and that our lads were already busy overhauling the prostrate bodies and separating the living from the dead. I thereupon directed the coxswain to release the crew of the Indiaman—who were at that moment lying bound hand and foot down in the forecastle—to rout out three lanterns, and to hang them lighted one above the other in the ship’s rigging, as a preconcerted signal to Woodford that we had been successful; and then to take the gig with eight hands and pull away to the Dolphin for the doctor. My next task was to send a couple of trustworthy hands into the Indiaman’s cabin to assist the passengers in any way which might be found needful; after which I scrambled down on board the brigantine to see how matters were going there.
I had just gained the deck of the prize when the three lanterns were displayed in the Indiaman’s rigging, upon which a hearty cheer came ringing over the water from no great distance, and, though we could see nothing, the lightning having by this time ceased, we soon heard the measured roll and rattle of sweeps, succeeded a few minutes later by the arrival of the Dolphin alongside; Woodford having grown impatient and determined to see for himself what was going forward.
This, of course, greatly facilitated matters, as we were enabled to transfer our wounded directly on board the schooner, where Sanderson was all ready awaiting them; and this we made our first task. Our casualties were very heavy, as I had feared they would be, five of the attacking party being killed and seventeen of them wounded severely enough to need the doctor’s services; the French loss being twenty-two killed and forty-five wounded; so desperate, indeed, had been their defence that there were only three of them who had escaped completely unscathed. About an hour after the arrival of the Dolphin alongside the prizes, the doctor of the Indiaman came down to assist our surgeon, at the same time reporting all his patients, with one exception—but including the skipper and chief officer, both of whom I had supposed to be dead—to be doing well. The one melancholy exception was the poor little boy I had seen lying wounded in his mother’s lap, and he the worthy doctor feared would not outlast the night. The brave little fellow, it seemed, from the story told by the doctor, had been cruelly cut down by the wretch I had killed, in revenge for the child having resented with a blow an attempted insult to his mother made by the ruffian after all the crew and male passengers of the Indiaman had been secured. I am not ashamed to say that on hearing this I regretted having slain the villain, I felt that death by the sword was too good for him, hanging in chains being more in accordance with his deserts. And here I may state that it seemed more than probable this would be the ultimate fate of the survivors of the brigantine’s crew, for although they claimed that the vessel was a letter of marque, no papers could be found to substantiate that claim, although I allowed the chief officer every facility to find and produce them—if he could.
At length, having seen all the wounded attended to and made as comfortable as possible, and having told off a prize-crew for the brigantine and placed Woodford in command of the Indiaman, with half a dozen Dolphins to assist her own crew in navigating the vessel, I returned on board and had another short but pleasant interview with my father, which was broken in upon by Woodford with the report that a breeze was springing up. I therefore bade a hasty adieu to the passengers, most of whom had by this time in a great measure recovered their equanimity, and hastened on board the schooner, when the three vessels were cast adrift, the sails trimmed to a gentle easterly breeze, and a course shaped for Jamaica, it being my intention to escort the prizes into port.
On the following morning, the weather being fine, I had the gig lowered and went on board the Indiaman—which I may here mention was named the Truxillo; the brigantine being named the Clarice—when I, for the first time, heard an account of the circumstances attending her capture.
She hailed, it appeared, from London, from which port she had originally sailed, having on board twenty-two adult passengers, with five children; specie amounting to one hundred and fifty thousand pounds, and a very valuable general cargo, all for Kingston. She had joined a convoy at Plymouth, and had sailed with it, all going well with the fleet until they reached the neighbourhood of latitude 25 degrees North and longitude 50 degrees West, when a hurricane was encountered which completely scattered the convoy, and compelled the Truxillo to run to the southward for three days under bare poles. It was, of course, almost hopeless to think of falling in with the fleet again after the hurricane had blown itself out—the fleet no longer existed, in fact, the ships of which it was composed having been pretty effectually dispersed; as soon, therefore, as he could make sail again, Captain Barnes, the master of the Truxillo, determined to shape a course for Jamaica, and take his chance of being able to reach it unmolested. This determination he had put into effect with most satisfactory results up to the moment of his capture, only two sail having been sighted in the interim, neither of which had taken the slightest notice of him. Nor when, on the preceding evening just before sunset, the lookout had sighted and reported the Clarice, did her appearance excite the least uneasiness. She was so small a vessel compared with the Truxillo, that nobody condescended to honour her with more than a glance of the most cursory description. Moreover, being discovered on the starboard bow, reaching out from the direction wherein land was known to be, with her yards artfully ill braced, her canvas badly set, her running gear hanging all in bights, and her speed—retarded by a topmast studding-sail being dropped overboard and towed from her lee quarter—less than that of the veriest Noah’s ark of a north-country collier, she was at once set down as a harmless coaster, and no further notice taken of her. So skilfully, indeed, had the French skipper managed his approach that even when, shortly after midnight, his vessel dropped alongside the Indiaman, the occurrence was regarded as nothing more than an accident of the most trivial character; and it was not until his crew were actually swarming up the Truxillo’s lofty sides that the alarm was given, and the crew, snatching handspikes, belaying-pins, billets of wood from the galley, or any other weapon which they could first lay hands on, too late bestirred themselves in the defence of their ship. Notwithstanding their total lack of preparation the English made a sturdy and protracted resistance, affording the passengers ample time to arm themselves; and when at length the Indiaman’s crew were driven below, the captain and chief mate retreated to the cabin, which, with the assistance of the male passengers, they successfully held for fully twenty minutes after every other part of the ship was in possession of the enemy. It was during this resistance that the two officers named received such serious wounds as prostrated them on the saloon floor apparently lifeless, and it was only with their fall that the resistance terminated.
The fight over, the male passengers were promptly disarmed and secured, and a scene of pillage and violence, the introduction to which was an insult offered to one of the lady passengers and the cruel cutlass-stroke inflicted upon her almost infant son for resenting it, was just commencing, when it was happily cut short by the appearance of the Dolphin’s boats upon the scene.
The weather continuing fine, I remained on board the Truxillo until well on in the afternoon, taking luncheon with the passengers at one o’clock, and many were the compliments and oft-reiterated the thanks which they bestowed upon me for what they were pleased to term “my gallantry” in rescuing them from the clutches of the French desperados. Many of the gentlemen were officers belonging to the various regiments quartered on the island who had been home on furlough, whilst some of the ladies were the wives of officers already there whom they were going out to join, and from what the gentlemen said, I felt sure that my conduct would on our arrival be so well reported as to do me the utmost possible service with the admiral. My father, too, came in for his share of compliments and congratulations at being the parent of such a son, and this gratified me more than all the rest, for I could see that he was both proud and pleased.
As may well be imagined I was most anxious to have a private chat with him, no opportunity for which had yet occurred; so at length seeing that, notwithstanding an obvious wish on the part of everybody to leave us for a time to ourselves, we were constantly being interrupted, I proposed to him a visit to the Dolphin, which saucy craft, under her topsail, fore-trysail, and jib only, was sailing round and round the Truxillo, notwithstanding that the latter craft was covered with canvas from her trucks down. The proposal was eagerly acceded to; the gig, which had been towing astern in charge of a boat-keeper, was accordingly hauled up alongside, her crew tumbled down into her, and in a few minutes I found myself once more at home. How different everything looked here, to be sure, from what it did on board the Indiaman! Our snow-white decks, unencumbered by anything save the long-boat and pinnace stowed upon the booms, the handsome range of formidable guns on either side, with their gear symmetrically arranged and tackle-falls neatly coiled down, the substantial bulwarks topped by their immaculate hammock-cloths, the gleaming polished brass-work of the various deck-fittings, the taunt spars, with their orderly maze of standing and running rigging and their broad expanse of gleaming well-cut canvas, and last, but by no means least, the stalwart sun-burned crew in their neat, clean, fine weather suits, presented a striking contrast to the scene on board the Truxillo, where confusion, disorder, and a very perceptible amount of dirt still reigned supreme. My father, however, did not appear to notice the difference, possibly his agitation was too great to permit of his being keenly sensible to his outward surroundings; he knew that the moment for a full and complete explanation of the mystery connected with the strange unreasoning jealousy which he had cherished against my mother had arrived; and whilst I fancied that he was equally eager with myself that the explanation should be made, I could not help seeing that he at the same time shrank from the ordeal.
It was not so with me. I instinctively felt that whatever the nature of the revelation about to be made to me, there would be a sufficiently weak point somewhere in the evidence to cast a serious doubt upon the whole; that I should be able to discover and assail that weak point in such a manner as not only to satisfy myself, but also my father, that he was wrong and I was not entirely hopeless of being also able to discover a clue which, patiently followed up, would eventually lead to a satisfactory clearing up of everything. So I took my father’s arm, conducted him below into the cabin, rang for wine and glasses, and as soon as the steward had disappeared, leaned over the table toward him and said:
“Well, my dear father, at last we are alone, and can talk unrestrainedly. Of course I have a thousand questions to ask you, so I will commence by inquiring to what happy chance am I indebted for the pleasure of this most unexpected meeting with you?”
“I will tell you, Leo,” said my father. “I am here because I could no longer overcome my longing to see you. That letter of yours, written after your escape from La Guayra, and in reply to several of mine, which, I gathered from what you said, reached you all at the same time, was my salvation, mentally and physically. Its healthy, manly common-sense tone acted upon my morbidly affected mind like a strong tonic mingled with wine; it swept away the mists which had beclouded my intellect, as the keen fresh mountain breeze sweeps the morning fog from out the valleys; it set me thinking, and asking myself questions which had never occurred to me before; nay, more, it caused the sweet blossom of hope to spring up within my heart; and, finally, it aroused within me a belief—or a superstition, perhaps, would be the better word—that if we could unite our forces, what is now dark might be made light, and I could taste of happiness once more. But I must begin my story at the beginning; I see that you are only mystified by what I have already said; you want an explanation, and you shall have it.
“I was twenty-six years of age when I first saw your mother. I was staying at Amalfi at the time, and it was in an old chateau among the hills, some fifteen miles or so in the rear of the town, that we first met. You have seen her portrait; you perhaps have it still, and are therefore able to judge of her appearance for yourself. I fell in love with her at first sight, and having been fortunate enough, as I then thought, to favourably impress the old uncle, her only relative, with whom she was living, I followed up my first accidental introduction to the inmates of the chateau until it had ripened into a close intimacy. And if I was attracted toward your mother in the first instance by her beauty, I was still more powerfully attracted afterwards by her many accomplishments, and above all by the gentleness and amiability of disposition, the charming innocence and truth, and the unsophisticated ingenuousness of character which I thought I had discovered in her. It was with a feeling of indescribable pleasure and exultation that I was soon able to detect in Maria Bisaccia’s beaming, yet half-averted eyes and blushing cheeks when we met, the evidences of a growing attachment for myself, which I did everything in my power to foster and strengthen. Her uncle Flavio seemed quickly to guess at my wishes, and with a frankness, yet at the same time a stately dignity, which greatly raised the old gentleman in my estimation, took an early opportunity to acquaint me with the fact that, though some of Italy’s best blood flowed through his niece’s veins, she was absolutely penniless. That, however, made no difference whatever to me, excepting that it perhaps rather stimulated my ardour than otherwise. I loved your mother for herself; even then I was doing good work, or, at all events, work which was well spoken of, and which fetched a good price, so that the thought of marrying for money did not particularly commend itself to me. At length, when I felt sufficiently certain of my own feelings to justify such a step, I proposed, and was accepted with a sweet half-shyness, half-abandon of manner, which was as piquant and charming in effect, as I afterwards had reason to believe it was a consummately skilful piece of acting—now, do not interrupt me, Leo; wait until you have heard me to an end before you attempt to judge. Well, not to drag out my story to an undue length, after an acquaintance of some six months we were married, and it was about a month after that date that the miniature was painted which I gave you.
“We removed to Rome, taking up our quarters in a roomy but somewhat dilapidated old villa on the outskirts of the city, where, having now someone and something worth working for, I devoted myself in good earnest to the study and pursuit of my art.
“At the outset of our married life, our—or perhaps it would be more accurate to say my—happiness was complete, but a time at length arrived when I was obliged to ask myself whether I had not after all made a mistake. Your mother’s manner and demeanour to me was from the very first characterised by a certain shyness, timidity, and reserve, which, charming and proper enough as it might be in a maiden, or even in a new-made bride, I fully expected and hoped would gradually wear off under the influence of such intimate association as that of wedded life. But it did not. She accorded to me rather the respectful and anxiously timid obedience of a slave to her owner than the frank spontaneous affection of a wife for her husband. Not that she was cold or unresponsive to my demonstrations of affection, but she received and returned them with a diffidence which lasted longer than I quite liked, and much longer than I thought it ought to last. Then suddenly, and without the slightest apparent cause, she began to manifest symptoms of restlessness, anxiety, and preoccupation, which she vainly strove to conceal beneath an assumption of increased tenderness obviously costing her a very great effort. Her uneasiness was so unmistakable that at length, finding she did not take me into her confidence, or seek my assistance in any way, I questioned her about it, and was shocked and grieved beyond expression to meet only with equivocating and evasive replies to my questions. Then, for the first time, I began to suspect that when we had married I was only second in her affection, and the result was that, after a severe struggle with myself, I took measures to have my wife watched. This step soon resulted in the discovery that the woman whom I loved with such extravagant devotion, and whom I had, up to then, believed equally devoted to me, was in the habit of secretly meeting a young Italian after nightfall in a secluded spot at the bottom of our own garden. So great, even then, was my faith in your mother, Leo, that I could not credit the intelligence, to which I indignantly gave the lie, upon which I was challenged to personally test its accuracy for myself, if I dared. After this there remained but one course of action open to me, and Heaven knows with what reluctance I took it I found that what I had been told, was only too true, for I secretly witnessed no less than three meetings between your mother and a young man whom, imperfectly as I could distinguish his form and features in the dusk, I felt convinced I had somewhere seen before. At length, after so prolonged a visit that he was surprised by the rising moon, and his features thus more fully revealed to me, I identified your mother’s visitor as a young fellow named Giuseppe Merlani, whom—why, what is the matter, Leo? Why do you look at me like that? One would swear you had seen a ghost! What is it, my boy?”
“Nothing, nothing,” I replied; “I will tell you by and bye, father; go on with your story now, and let me know the worst.”
“You know the worst already, Leo,” answered my father. “You will naturally wonder why I did not break in upon the first interview I witnessed and demand an explanation. I will tell you why I did not. It was because there was really nothing beyond the clandestine character of the interview to which I could fairly object. My place of concealment was, unfortunately, so far distant from the trysting-place that I was only able to indistinctly catch an occasional word or two when spoken in an incautiously loud tone of voice, but I will do your mother the justice to say that there was nothing in her manner to awaken the anger which I felt, and that what I resented as a want of loyalty to me consisted in the mere act of clandestinely meeting and conversing with young Merlani, whom, upon recognising, I at once remembered as having been a somewhat frequent visitor to the chateau Bisaccia when I first made your mother’s acquaintance.
“At length an interview took place which proved to be the final one; and at this interview I saw your mother place a package in Merlani’s hands, yield herself for a moment to his embrace, and then retreat precipitately to the house in a state of violent agitation.
“It was then that, for the first time, a clear and intelligible explanation of these singular meetings dawned upon me. I realised, all in a moment, that I had been duped by a woman whose chief attraction had, for me, consisted not so much in her surpassing loveliness of person, though doubtless that had had its effect upon me, as in that angelic purity and fascinating simplicity and truthfulness of character which I now discovered to be a mere worthless sham. It was evident enough that Merlani had been her lover—most probably her accepted lover—when I appeared upon the scene; and that, dazzled by my appearance of superior wealth, she had in the most heartless and cruel manner thrown him overboard; and, with a cunning and artfulness which even then seemed incredible to me, laid herself out only too successfully to ensnare me, and by becoming my wife to secure for herself those comforts and luxuries which Merlani—poor shiftless scamp that he was—could never have afforded her.
“Now this of itself would not perhaps have vexed me so much—for I never entertained a very high opinion of feminine conscientiousness or scrupulosity—had she, when accepting me, been frank enough to admit that, whilst she was willing to do so, she entertained no very ardent sentiment of regard for me. But what inflicted an incurable wound alike upon my pride and my love was the fact that she had responded to my suit with assurances of reciprocated affection which were assumed with consummate art. And that which to my mind made the worst feature of it all was that, by her diabolical spells, she had won me to love her as I verily believe woman was never loved before. And then, to discover all in a moment that her love for me was a mere fiction, or at any rate a secondary sentiment, although, even with such evidence before my eyes as what I have already described to you, I could scarcely realise it, and that the idol I worshipped was at best the very incarnation of falsehood and unworthiness, was altogether too much for me; I brooded and fretted over it until I could endure it no longer, and then, one day when she seemed striving to weave anew round my heart the fatal spell of her endearments, I broke away from her embrace and suddenly taxed her with her perfidy, charging her with purchasing her former lover’s absence and silence by the sacrifice of her jewels, the whole of which I had soon ascertained were missing.
“I hoped for a moment that my sudden outburst, taking her by surprise, would startle her into making a confession; but no, her self-possession, even at that trying moment, was perfect. For perhaps a minute she stood speechless, regarding me with a rapidly changing expression of countenance, in which incredulity, surprise, horror, grief, indignation, and finally withering scorn and contempt, were portrayed with an amount of power and skill which I have never seen equalled; then she retired to her own apartments, locked herself in, and refused to see me for more than a week. And when at length we met, and I endeavoured in a somewhat calmer tone to reopen the subject, she positively refused to listen to a single word until I had apologised to her for what she chose to designate my base and insulting suspicions. ‘You, for whom only I have hitherto lived, have insulted and humbled me to the very dust,’ said she. ‘My conduct admits of a simple and easy explanation, but I will never make it until you have at least acknowledged yourself hasty in bringing so shameful a charge against me without any previous attempt to ascertain the truth.’ This, I considered, was, under the circumstances, asking rather too much; and yet, after hurling that defiance at me, your mother’s conduct was so gentle, yet dignified, so perfectly self-possessed, that at times I felt myself almost inclined to believe that I had been the victim of some horrible hallucination, and that my wife was innocent of the deceit with which I had charged her. Well, I need not linger over this part of my story. You can easily understand that our domestic happiness was destroyed, and a month later our establishment was broken up and we removed to England. There, in London, in the house you know so well, you were born about six months after the occurrence of the circumstances I have related. It unfortunately happened that urgent business called me into the country just at that particular time; and you may imagine the shock I received when, on returning home, I found the whole house in confusion, and learned that I had been six hours a parent and one short half-hour a widower. Your mother died quite suddenly, and without even time to leave an intelligible message; but I was told that her last words were: ‘Cuthbert, darling—cruel unjust suspicion—innocent;’ and that as the last word escaped her lips she passed away.”
At this point of his narrative my father’s voice suddenly broke, and with a wail of uncontrollable anguish and an exclamation of “Heaven, have mercy upon me and heal my broken heart!” he flung his arms out upon the cabin table, laid his head upon them, and sobbed aloud.