The Loss of the Royal George

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Harry and Reginald spent that night on shore, and the next day returned to Portsmouth. It was on the evening of that day, as I happened to be passing the inn where Miss Stafford had left her boxes, when I caught sight of a strange gentleman coming along the road, and looking about him as if in search of some house or other. As I passed close to him I looked in his face, and could not help fancying that he was very like Harry, only much older, with a very different expression of countenance. After I had passed him I turned round, when I saw him looking up at the sign of the inn, and then go without further hesitation up to the door. I walked on some little way, and stood watching the inn till he came out again. As I again passed him I felt sure that he was no other than Mr Biddulph Stafford, from the dark and troubled look I saw on his countenance. He then went on into the town. As the wind was from the north-east, and the tide was ebbing, I knew that no wherry was likely to put off for some time to come, and that I should be able to fall in with him again before he left the island. I accordingly entered the inn to learn what I could from the landlord. He presently, taking me into his private room, confessed that the stranger was no other than the man I suspected. He had at once made himself known, and asked what had become of the young lady’s trunks, and seemed anxious to have them. The landlord at once told him that he could not give them, seeing that they were no longer in his possession, and that, for what he knew to the contrary, they had long since been destroyed. At last, when he pressed him, he told him that he had given them to two sailors to carry off into the middle of the Channel and sink them, thinking that was the best way of disposing of them. This seemed to satisfy him, and giving the landlord a guinea, and telling him not to say anything about the matter, he went off.

“That was not the truth, my friend,” I observed.

“It was partly true,” answered the landlord, “for you and the old gentleman who came with you were seamen—I could swear to that; and how should I know that you didn’t sink them away there ’twixt this and Portsmouth?”

I had no time to argue, the point with the landlord, though of course he was wrong, as I had to look after Mr Biddulph Stafford. I found him on the shore, trying to engage a wherry to carry him across to Portsmouth; but none of the men would go, as it was blowing harder than ever, with a nasty sea running. At last I heard him offer five guineas to anyone who would cross. I knew by this that he must be in a desperate hurry.

“If you’ll wait half an hour, sir, I’ll do it,” said the owner of a large wherry, coming up to him; “we shall get across just as soon as we should if we were to start now.”

To this Mr Biddulph Stafford agreed, and I saw him go into an inn near the beach, to get some refreshment I suppose, telling the man to call him when he was ready. I now knew that I should have no difficulty in ascertaining whether he had really gone, so I hastened back to the captain, to tell him what I had discovered. He immediately wrote to Harry, to tell him to get ready for a start, and to meet himself and me at “The George,” where we would call for him next morning, if we could get across, on our way to Mr Pengelley’s; adding, that the sooner we could get him recognised by his mother and uncle the better, lest Mr Biddulph Stafford should be taking steps to defeat us. The letter was sent off by the mail-packet that night.

The captain agreed that it would be better that Susan should accompany us, as her evidence was sure to be wanted; so, calling at our cottage on my way back to the shore, I told her to pack up her traps and get a woman to take care of the house during her absence. Though she didn’t like leaving home, she was willing to do anything for Harry’s good, and promised to be ready in time.

On returning to the beach I found that Mr Biddulph Stafford had just put off from the shore, but, with the wetting and tossing he would get, I felt pretty sure he wouldn’t be ready to start till the next morning, if even then.

I daresay Miss Fanny would rather have had Harry come back at once to Ryde, but she was too wise to say anything about the matter. The next morning was fine, and the captain, Susan, and I crossed to Portsmouth, taking with us Miss Stafford’s trunks, which I had had done up in canvas, and painted in such a way that even should Mr Biddulph Stafford get sight of them they might not be recognised by him. We found Harry waiting for us at “The George.” The ship had been paid off the previous day, and he and Reginald were now free. The latter went back to Ryde “to console Miss Fanny,” as he said.

On making inquiries I found that Mr Biddulph Stafford was sleeping at the hotel, and had not yet come out of his room, which convinced me that he had been knocked up the previous day by sea-sickness, and also that he did not know that we were trying to get ahead of him. The postchaise being ordered, we at once started, and, travelling as fast as the horses could get along, without any accident reached Mr Pengelley’s. Harry was of course very anxious to see his mother; and accordingly, leaving Captain Leslie with Mr Pengelley, he and Jerry, with Susan and I, set off for the old house where she and her father lived. Mr Pengelley, Jerry told us, had already somewhat prepared her for the recovery of her son.