CHAPTER XLIII. ANNAPOLIS ONCE MORE
Three days after that I was at sea, in the Norfolk packet, with thefarewells of my loyal English friends ringing in my ears. CaptainGraham, the master of the packet, and his passengers found me but a poorcompanion. But they had heard of my misfortune, and vied with each otherin heaping kindnesses upon me. Nor did they intrude on my walks in thenight watches, to see me slipping a locket from under my waistcoat--ay,and raising it to my lips. 'Twas no doubt a blessing that I had lessermisfortunes to share my attention. God had put me in the way of lookingforward rather than behind, and I was sure that my friends in Annapoliswould help me to an honest living, and fight my cause against Grafton.
Banks was with me. The devoted soul did his best to cheer me, tho'downcast himself at leaving England. To know what to do with him gaveme many an anxious moment. I doubted not that I could get him intoa service, but when I spoke of such a thing he burst into tears, anddemanded whether I meant to throw him off. Nor was any argument of mineof use.
After a fair and uneventful voyage of six weeks, I beheld again mynative shores in the low spits of the Virginia capes. The sand was veryhot and white, and the waters of the Chesapeake rolled like oil underthe July sun. We were all day getting over to Yorktown, the ship'sdestination. A schooner was sailing for Annapolis early the nextmorning, and I barely had time to get off my baggage and catch her. Wewent up the bay with a fresh wind astern, which died down at night.
The heat was terrific after England and the sea-voyage, and we slept onthe deck. And Banks sat, most of the day, exclaiming at the vast scaleon which this new country was laid out, and wondering at the myriadislands we passed, some of them fair with grain and tobacco; and at thelow-lying shores clothed with forests, and broken by the salt marshes,with now and then the manor-house of some gentleman-planter visible oneither side. Late on the second day I beheld again the cliffs that markthe mouth of the Severn, then the sail-dotted roads and the roofs ofAnnapolis.
We landed, Banks and I, in a pinnace from the schooner, and so full wasmy heart at the sight of the old objects that I could only gulp now andthen, and utter never a word. There was the dock where I had paced upand down near the whole night, when Dolly had sailed away; and Pryse thecoachmaker's shop, and the little balcony upon which I had stood withmy grandfather, and railed in a boyish tenor at Mr. Hood. The sun castsharp, black shadows. And it being the middle of the dull season, whenthe quality were at their seats, and the dinner-hour besides, thetown might have been a deserted one for its stillness, as tho' theinhabitants had walked out of it, and left it so. I made my way, Banksbehind me, into Church Street, past the "Ship" tavern, which broughtmemories of the brawl there, and of Captain Clapsaddle forcing themob, like chaff, before his sword. The bees were humming idly over thesweet-scented gardens, and Farris, the clock-maker, sat at his door, andnodded. He jerked his head as I went by with a cry of "Lord, it is Mr.Richard back!" and I must needs pause, to let him bow over my hand.Farther up the street I came to mine host of the Coffee House standingon his steps, with his hands behind his back.
"Mr. Claude," I said.
He looked at me as tho' I had risen from the dead.
"God save us!" he shouted, in a voice that echoed through the narrowstreet. "God save us!"
He seemed to go all to pieces. To my bated questions he replied atlength, when he had got his breath, that Captain Clapsaddle had cometo town but the day before, and was even then in the coffee-room at hisdinner. Alone? Yes, alone. Almost tottering, I mounted the steps, andturned in at the coffee-room door, and stopped. There sat the captain ata table, the roast and wine untouched before him, his waistcoat thrownopen. He was staring out of the open window into the inn garden beyond,with its shade of cherry trees. Mr. Claude's cry had not disturbed hisreveries, nor our talk after it. I went forward. I touched him on theshoulder, and he sprang up, and looked once into my face, and by sometrick of the mind uttered the very words Mr. Claude had used.
"God save us! Richard!" And he opened his arms and strained me to hisgreat chest, calling my name again and again, while the tears courseddown the furrows of his cheeks. For I marked the furrows for the firsttime, and the wrinkles settling in his forehead and around his eyes.What he said when he released me, nor my replies, can I remember now,but at last he called, in his ringing voice, to mine host:
"A bottle from your choicest bin, Claude! Some of Mr. Bordley's. For hethat was lost is found."
The hundred questions I had longed to ask were forgotten. A peace stoleupon me that I had not felt since I had looked upon his face before.The wine was brought by Mr. Claude, and opened, and it was mine host whobroke the silence, and the spell.
"Your very good health, Mr. Richard," he said; "and may you come to yourown again!"
"I drink it with all my heart, Richard," replied Captain Daniel. But heglanced at me sadly, and his honest nature could put no hope into histone. "We have got him back again, Mr. Claude. And God has answered ourprayers. So let us be thankful." And he sat down in silence, gazing atme in pity and tenderness, while Mr. Claude withdrew. "I can give youbut a sad welcome home, my lad," he said presently, with a hesitationstrange to him. "'Tis not the first bad news I have had to break in mylife to your family, but I pray it may be the last." He paused. I knewhe was thinking of the black tidings he had once brought my mother."Richard, your grandfather is dead," he ended abruptly.
I nodded wonderingly.
"What!" he exclaimed; "you have heard already?"
"Mr. Manners told me, in London," I said, completely mystified.
"London!" he cried, starting forward. "London and Mr. Manners! Have youbeen to London?"
"You had my letters to Mr. Carvel?" I demanded, turning suddenly sick.
His eye flashed.
"Never a letter. We mourned you for dead, Richard. This is Grafton'swork!" he cried, springing to his feet and striking the table with hisgreat fist, so that the dishes jumped. "Grafton Carvel, the prettiestvillain in these thirteen colonies! Oh, we shall hang him some day."
"Then Mr. Carvel died without knowing that I was safe?" I interrupted.
"On that I'll lay all my worldly goods," replied Captain Daniel,emphatically. "If any letters came to Marlboro' Street from you, Mr.Carvel never dropped eyes on 'em."
"What a fool was I not to have written you!" I groaned.
He drew his chair around the table, and close to mine.
"Had the news that you escaped death been cried aloud in the streets,my lad, 'twould never have got to your grandfather's ear," he said, inlower tones. "I will tell you what happened, tho' I have it at secondhand, being in the North, as you may remember. Grafton came in from Kentand invested Marlboro' Street. He himself broke the news to Mr. Carvel,who took to his bed. Leiden was not in attendance, you may be sure, butthat quack-doctor Drake. Swain sent me a message, and I killed a horsegetting here from New York. But I could no more gain admittance to yourgrandfather, Richard, than to King George the Third. I was met in thehall by that crocodile, who told me with too many fair words that Icould not see my old friend; that for the present Dr. Drake denied himeverybody. Then I damned Dr. Drake, and Grafton too. And I let him knowmy suspicions. He ordered me off, Richard--from that house which hasbeen my only home for these twenty years." His voice broke.
"Mr. Carvel thought me dead, then."
"And most mercifully. Your black Hugo, when he was somewhat recovered,swore he had seen you killed and carried off. Sooth, they say there wasblood enough on the place. But we spared no pains to obtain a clew ofyou. I went north to Boston, and Lloyd's factor south to Charleston. Butno trace of the messenger who came to the Coffee House after you couldwe find. Hell had opened and swallowed him. And mark this for consummatevillany: Grafton himself spent no less than five hundred pounds inadvertising and the like."
"And he is not suspected?" I asked. This was the same question I had putto Mrs. Manners. It caused the captain to flare up again.
"'Tis incredible how a rogue may impose upon
men of worth and integrityif he but know how to smirk piously, and never miss a service. And thenhe is an exceeding rich man. Riches cover a multitude of sins in themost virtuous community in the world. Your Aunt Caroline brought hima pretty fortune, you know. We had ominous times this spring, with theassociations forming, and the 'Good Intent' and the rest being sentback to England. His Excellency was at his wits' end for support. It wasGrafton Carvel who helped him most, and spent money like tobacco for theKing's cause, which, being interpreted, was for his own advancement. ButI believe Colonel Lloyd suspects him, tho' he has never said as much tome. I have told Mr. Swain, under secrecy, what I think. He is one ofthe ablest lawyers that the colony owns, Richard, and a stanch friendof yours. He took your case of his own accord. But he says we have nofoothold as yet."
When I asked if there was a will the captain rapped out an oath.
"'Sdeath! yes," he cried, "a will in favour of Grafton and his heirs,witnessed by Dr. Drake, they say, and another scoundrel. Your name doesnot occur throughout the length and breadth of it. You were dead. Butyou will have to ask Mr. Swain for those particulars. My dear old friendwas sadly gone when he wrote it, I fear. For he never lacked shrewdnessin his best days. Nor," added Captain Daniel, with force, "nor did hewant for a proper estimation of Grafton."
"He has never been the same since that first sickness," I answeredsadly.
When the captain came to speak of Mr. Carvel's death, the son anddaughter he loved, and the child of his old age in the grave beforehim, he proceeded brokenly, and the tears blinded him. Mr. Carvel's lastwords will never be known, my dears. They sounded in the unfeeling earsof the serpent Grafton. 'Twas said that he was seen coming out of hisfather's house an hour after the demise, a smile on his face which hestrove to hide with a pucker of sorrow. But by God's grace Mr. Allen hadnot read the prayers. The rector was at last removed from Annapolis, andhad obtained the fat living of Frederick which he coveted.
"As I hope for salvation," the captain concluded, "I will swear there isnot such another villain in the world as Grafton. The imagination of afiend alone could have conceived and brought to execution the crime hehas committed. And the Borgias were children to him. 'Twas not only thelove of money that urged him, but hatred of you and of your father. Thatwas his strongest motive, I believe. However, the days are coming, lad,when he shall have his reward, unless all signs fail. And we have hadenough of sober talk," said he, pressing me to eat. "Faith, but justnow, when you came in, I was thinking of you, Richard. And--God forgiveme! complaining against the lot of my life. And thinking, now that youwere taken out of it, and your father and mother and grandfather gone,how little I had to live for. Now you are home again," says he, his eyeslighting on me with affection, "I count the gray hairs as nothing. Letus have your story, and be merry. Nay, I might have guessed you had beenin London, with your fine clothes and your English servant."
'Twas a long story, as you know, my dears. He lighted his pipe and laidhis big hand over mine, and filled my glass, and I told him most of thatwhich had happened to me. But I left out the whole of that concerningMr. Manners and the Duke of Chartersea, nor did I speak of thesponging-house. I believe my only motive for this omittance was areluctance to dwell upon Dorothy, and a desire to shield her father forher sake. He dropped many a vigorous exclamation into my pauses, butwhen I came to speak of my friendship with Mr. Fox, his brow cloudedover.
"'Ad's heart!" he cried, "'Ad's heart! And so you are turned Tory, andhave at last been perverted from those principles for which I loved youmost. In the old days my conscience would not allow me to advise you,Richard, and now that I am free to speak, you are past advice."
I laughed aloud.
"And what if I tell you that I made friends with his Grace of Grafton,and Lord Sandwich, and was invited to Hichinbroke, his Lordship's seat?"said I.
His honest face was a picture of consternation.
"Now the good Lord deliver us!" he exclaimed fervently. "Sandwich!Grafton! The devil!"
I gave myself over to the first real merriment I had had since I hadheard of Mr. Carvel's death.
"And when Mr. Fox learned that I had lost my fortune," I went on, "heoffered me a position under Government."
"Have you not friends enough at home to care for you, sir?" he said,his face getting purple. "Are you Jack Carvel's son, or are you animpostor?"
"I am Jack Carvel's son, dear Captain Daniel, and that is why I amhere," I replied. "I am a stouter Whig than ever, and I believe I mighthave converted Mr. Fox himself had I remained at home sufficientlylong," I added, with a solemn face. And, for my own edification, Irelated how I had bearded his Majesty's friends at Brooks's, whereat hegave a great, joyful laugh, and thumped me on the back.
"You dog, Richard! You sly rogue!" And he called to Mr. Claude foranother bottle on the strength of that, and we pledged the Association.He peppered me with questions concerning Junius, and Mr. Wilkes, and Mr.Franklin of Philadelphia. Had I seen him in London? "I would not doubta Carvel's word," says the captain, "(always excepting Grafton and hisline, as usual), but you may duck me on the stool and I comprehend whyMr. Fox and his friends took up with such a young rebel rapscallion asyou--and after the speech you made 'em."
I astonished him vastly by pointing out that Mr. Fox and his friendscared a deal for place, and not a fig for principle; that my franknesshad entertained rather than offended them; and that, having a taste fora bit of wild life and the money to gratify it, and being of a tolerant,easy nature withal, I had contrived to make many friends in that set,without aiming at influence. Whereat he gave me another lick between theshoulders.
"It was so with Jack," he cried; "thou art a replica. He would have madefriends with the devil himself. In the French war, when all the rest ofus Royal Americans were squabbling with his Majesty's officers out ofEngland, and cursing them at mess, they could never be got to fight withJack, tho' he gave them ample provocation. There was Tetherington,of the 22d foot,--who jeered us for damned provincials, and swaggeredthrough three duels in a week,--would enter no quarrel with him. I canhear him say: 'Damn you, Carvel, you may slap my face and you will, orwalk in ahead of me at the general's dinner and you will, but I like youtoo well to draw at you. I would not miss your company at table for allthe world.' And when he was killed," Captain Daniel continued, loweringhis voice, "some of them cried like women, Tetherington among 'em,--andswore they would rather have lost their commissions at high play."
We sat talking until the summer's dusk grew on apace, and one thing thisdevoted lover of my family told me, which lightened my spirits of thegreatest burden that had rested upon them since my calamity befell me.I had dwelt at length upon my Lord Comyn, and upon the weight of hisservices to me, and touched upon the sum which I stood in his debt. Thecaptain interrupted me.
"One day, before your mother died, she sent for me," said he, "andI came to Carvel Hall. You were too young to remember. It was inSeptember, and she was sitting on the seat under the oak she loved sowell,--by Dr. Hilliard's study.
"The lace shawl your father had given her was around her shoulders,and upon her face was the smile that gave me a pang to see. For it hadsomething of heaven in it, Richard. She called me 'Daniel' then for thesecond time in her life. She bade me be seated beside her. 'Daniel,' shesaid, 'when I am gone, and father is gone, it is you who will take careof Richard. I sometimes believe all may not be well then, and that hewill need you.' I knew she was thinking of Grafton," said the captain."'I have a little money of my own, Daniel, which I have saved latelywith this in view. I give it into your charge, and if trouble comes tohim, my old friend, you will use it as you see fit.'
"It was a bit under a thousand pounds, Richard. And when she died I putit out under Mr. Carroll's direction at safe interest. So that youhave enough to discharge your debt, and something saved against anotheremergency."
He fell silent, sunk into one of those reveries which the memory of mymother awoke in him. My own thoughts drifted across the sea. I was againat the top of the
stairs in Arlington Street, and feeling the dearestpresence in the world. The pale oval of Dorothy's face rose before meand the troubled depths of her blue eyes. And I heard once more thetremble in her voice as she confessed, in words of which she took noheed, that love for which I had sought in vain.
The summer dusk was gathering. Outside, under the cherry trees, Isaw Banks holding forth to an admiring circle of negro 'ostlers. Andpresently Mr. Claude came in to say that Shaw, the town carpenter, andSol Mogg, the ancient sexton of St. Anne's, and several more of my oldacquaintances were without, and begged the honour of greeting me.
Richard Carvel — Complete Page 44