In consequence of his depositions, a second request was made to the Government by the insurance company concerned that the Sarah Ann might be again examined; and a couple of detectives were sent to Appledore to keep an eye on the merchant, who was in first-rate spirits when he heard the issue of the trial, and had no doubt any more of Stauncy's fidelity.
His rejoicing, however, was short. That bright gleam of sunshine was followed by portentous signs of a coming tempest in the persons of the two strangers, and the barometer of hope sank rapidly every hour. Those vigilant gentlemen appeared to take note of everything, and turned up everywhere. Without interfering with any one, they seemed to be minding everybody's business, and were specially attentive to the merchant's residence. No vessel left the port without being carefully scrutinized; nor could a 'butt' pass through the place without being favoured with an examination. They seemed gifted with ubiquity, and were set down at last by the merchant's conscience as spies on himself. This conviction grew into absolute assurance when a rumour reached him that the Sarah Ann was to be raised by order of the Government, and he began to tremble for his safety. Neither money nor friends could help him, as he foresaw, so that he was left to the exercise of his wits, on the acuteness of which he prided himself, and which had never failed him yet.
As a means of securing timely information, he despatched his son to Lundy in a yacht, and engaged the services of smugglers up and down the coast, to give him a sign in case of threatening appearances. A week had not passed after these precautions had been taken before the tub-shaped ship, which had aforetime excited the curiosity of the Appledore mariners when lying in the Pool, appeared off Lundy; but ere the waters were touched by the hive-shaped home of the divers, young Phillipson weighed anchor and stood in for Bideford Bar. The wind was unfavourable, and before he could pass the fair-way buoy a six-oared gig sped swiftly by, and landed a gentleman whose acquaintance we have already made at West Appledore. Mr. Cocks immediately put himself in communication with the detectives, who proceeded at once to mount guard at Mr. Phillipson's house; so that he felt himself a prisoner. He was too knowing, however, to take any notice of the new movement; and though his ingenuity was greatly taxed, he did not betray his uneasiness.
CHAPTER XIV.
Although the 5th of March had been appointed as the day for the execution of James Stauncy, for some reason not explained by the law annals of those times it was deferred to the 7th of May. The interval passed slowly and drearily, relieved, however, by the kindly visits of the Ordinary, specially by a visit from his cousin, and by a regular correspondence with his beloved wife—his last letter to her being still extant. At first he endeavoured to show that the course he had taken was the only one which could satisfy him or benefit her. He brought forward the argument of the merchant as his own—that an open confession would at least have been so far unavailable, for want of evidence, as to be no security against transportation for life, and added that by making the merchant an enemy he would have cut off all hope of support for herself and children. He besought her to forgive him, and to remember him always, promising to give heed to her counsel, and to seek the mercy of God through the Saviour. That he did this, his letters, as the fatal day approached, hear testimony; and touchingly and lovingly did she answer him, just hinting at her sad disappointment, without any upbraiding, and assuring him, though broken-hearted, of her hope in the care and sufficiency of a merciful Creator and Redeemer.
Before the month of March was quite run out, the captain's worthy relative, who had entertained him at his home in Clovelly after the loss of the brig, partly on foot, partly by waggon, partly by coach, accomplished that difficult thing in those days, a journey to London; designing, as far as possible, to be a minister of instruction and comfort to the condemned man. He found the captain so altered in appearance as to be scarcely recognizable, especially in his prison dress. Instead of the robust and ruddy man of former days, he saw before him a sallow, shrunken being, with hollow eyes and cheeks, and wretchedness traceable in every feature. In his inner man, however, but little change had at that time taken place, though he admitted with much humility and self-reproach that the more he considered it, the more inexplicable and insane his conduct appeared.
'You did very wrong, Stauncy,' said the cousin, 'in refusing to listen to your wife's advice. One duty cannot be performed by breaking another to perform it. If you thought it a duty to screen the merchant, you should have thought it a duty to screen yourself; and the love we owe to our neighbour must be regulated by the love we owe to ourselves. As Mary told you, it's a greater sin to keep a bad promise than to break it.'
'It may be, William,' replied the captain; 'but don't trouble me with that now. Things right in themselves become wrong whenever they are done in opposition to our convictions, and my conscience bid me do as I have done. I haven't any compunction to feel on that score; and what must be, must.'
'Don't say that, James; "what must be must" is as deplorably false in one sense as it is righteously true in another, and, with regard to conscience, your remark cuts two ways. A thing that is evil cannot be made good by any erroneous conceptions of ours respecting it. Our consciences frequently stimulate us to what is wrong, under the false notion that we are right. They are not safe guides without the light of life.'