Brothers of Peril: A Story of old Newfoundland

by Theodore Goodridge Roberts

"Ay, he'll serve our turn," said Kingswell.

The soldier sighed, and smiled whimsically from the one to the other. He was not much older than Bernard Kingswell, and of a pleasant, boyish countenance.

"You have a story," he said, "with which I hope you will honour us in the governor's house. A brave tale, too, I'll stake my sword." He smiled good-naturedly at Master Kingswell. "But d'ye know," he added, gazing at Mistress Westleigh, "I had quite set my heart on it that you two were brother and sister."

The governor received them in his best coat, with one foot in a boot, and the other swathed to the bulk of a soldier's knapsack. His face was of the tint of russet leather, and, roughened by many inclement winds and darkened by high living. His voice was of a rancorous quality, as if he had frayed it by too much shouting through fogs and against gales. His hands were big, knotted, and tremulous, and his eyes not unlike those of a new-jigged codfish. Altogether he was a figure of a man for his place as king's representative. He led Mistress Beatrix to a chair with such grace as he could command, and presented a ponderous snuff-box to Master Kingswell. Then he called for refreshments. The lieutenant made himself at home beside the lady, and waited upon her with wine and cakes. When the servants were gone and the door closed, Kingswell stated his name and degree.

"Let me shake your hand again, young sir," cried his Excellency, extending an unsteady hand. "Your honoured father dined and wined me more than once in his great house in Bristol,—ay, and treated the poor sailor like a peer of the realm."

Kingswell leaned sideways in his chair and gave a brief account of Sir Ralph Westleigh's and Mistress Westleigh's sojourn in the wilderness, and of the baronet's death. He did not mention the fact that the fort was still inhabited, nor did he give a very definite idea of its whereabouts. It was well to be cautious in regard to unchartered plantations in those days of greedy fishermen. He mentioned the brief engagement with the buccaneer. He told of his betrothal to Mistress Westleigh, and of their anxiety to be married immediately. The governor was deeply affected by the story of Sir Ralph Westleigh's last days. He murmured an oath. "And the day was," he said, "that not a duke in England was more looked up to than that same baronet of Somerset. Well do I recall the pride that inflated me when Lady Westleigh—ay, the young lady's mother—bowed to me in Hyde Park. Only once had she met me, and that in a crush to which I'd been invited through my commander. And she was as beautiful as she was gracious, sir. 'Twas after her death that Sir Ralph threw over his ballast, poor devil."

Kingswell nodded, and remembered the winter of alarms and loneliness.

"They were bitter years for the daughter," he said, softly. "Motherless, and with a father whom she loved letting slip his old pride and honour day by day, she shared his downfall and his exile with fortitude, sir, I can assure you."

"Ay, as became her brave beauty," replied the governor, with a gleam in his staring eyes.

Now fate would have it at that time the only divine in the great island, the Reverend Thomas Aldrich, M. A., was away from the little town of St. John's, on a preaching tour among the English fishermen in Conception Bay. He might be back in a day's time; he was more likely not to return within the week.