Roger Kyffin's Ward

by William Henry Giles Kingston

away and leave you and poor mother,but it's too late now, I must go this cruise. The king himself couldnot get me off. There's no use asking the captain. Why he would onlylaugh at me. If he was to let me go, half the ship's company would wantto go and marry their sweethearts. I tell you a plain and solemn truth,Mary; but cheer up, dear girl. Never fear, I will be true and faithfulto you."

  Mary was too much occupied with her own grief to think much of Harry.However, she at last turned towards him.

  "Mr. Tryon," she said, "are you going, too? Surely that cannot be.What shall I tell Miss Mabel?"

  "Tell her, Mary, what Jacob has said to you. I trust the time willquickly pass. I hope to do my duty faithfully to my king and country,and to obey my captain."

  Mary was about to ask further questions, but the boatswain's whistle washeard, uttering the stern order for all visitors to leave the ship.Jacob gave Mary an affectionate embrace, and assisted her down the side,Harry especially being very unwilling to detain her lest she should beseen by the captain. She had come away, Jacob told him, having got aholiday for a week to see her friends. The boatman, who knew Jacob,wished him farewell, for though he stared at Harry, he did not appear torecognise him in the dress of a seaman, so different to what he had beenaccustomed to wear. In a few minutes afterwards the merry pipe wassounding. Harry and others were tramping round with the capstan-bars,and the anchor was slowly hove up to the bows. The proud frigate, underall sail, stood down the Solent toward the Needle passage.

  Harry turned his aching eyes toward Lynderton as the frigate glided by.Though the sea was bright, the air fresh, and everything round himlooked beautiful, his heart sank low, and often and often he bitterlyrepented the step he had taken. He quickly, however, learned his dutyas a seaman, and Captain Everard more than once remarked to thefirst-lieutenant that he had seldom seen a more active and promisinglad.

  "You speak of Andrew Brown, sir?" was the answer. "Yes, he's one of ourpressed men, but he at once seemed reconciled to his fate. He will makea prime seaman."

  "Curious, I cannot help fancying that I have seen him before," observedthe captain, "or else he is very like a lad I know, of a family residingin my part of the country. However, that is fancy."

  Probably from that moment Captain Everard thought little more of thelikeness between Andrew Brown and Harry Tryon.

  The frigate met with remarkably fine weather during her passage acrossthe Atlantic. As she neared the American coast, however, thick weathercame on--such as is often found in those latitudes. It was night. Thestarboard watch was on deck--that to which Jacob and Harry belonged.The ship was under easy sail--a fresh breeze but fair. The captain wasbelow. A bright look-out ought to have been kept, but bright look-outsare not always kept, even on board men-of-war.

  "How cold it feels," observed Harry to Jacob. "What's that white cloudahead?"

  Scarcely had the words left his mouth than there was a fearful crash.Every timber quivered. Down came the foremast. The bowsprit also wascarried away.

  "She's on an iceberg!" was shouted out.

  Dismay seized the hearts of the stoutest. In an instant all wasconfusion and disorder. In the midst of it, a voice sounding above eventhe wild uproar ordered the men to their stations. The ship had boundedoff, and now glided by, leaving the iceberg on the starboard side.Still the sea drove her against the base. Twice she struck with fearfulviolence. The mainmast followed the foremast, speedily carrying themizenmast with it. The gallant frigate lay a helpless wreck on the darktossing waters. The captain ordered the carpenter and his mates tosound the well. In a few short minutes he reported ten feet of water inthe hold, increasing fast. Starboard bow stove in, many planksalongside ripped off! The ship must inevitably founder.

  In an unskaken voice the captain announced the dreadful fact.

  "Remain calm and collected, and do your duty to the last, lads," hecried.

  Orders were given to get out the boats.

  Rafts also must be made, though there was short time for building them.The crew worked with a will. Had they been wearied out with pumpingthey might have given in. They had good reason now for working hard.The ship laboured heavily. The officers and many of the older seamenknew well, from the slow heavy movements, that she had not long tofloat. The carpenter by another report confirmed their fears. Harry,with other seamen, was engaged in making a raft on the quarter-deck. Itwas smaller than the rest, and nearly completed. The captain's voicewas again heard ordering the boats to be lowered without delay. Whilethe men were engaged in obeying the order the stern of the frigateseemed to lift up. Down sank the bows, and with one awful plunge theproud frigate rushed downward into the ocean depths. A wild cry arose,such as even the bravest utter in a moment of extreme peril. Jacob andHarry leaped on the small raft. The grey dawn had just before broke.Some of the larger rafts, not yet completed, were sucked down with thesinking ship. Several boats suffered the same fate. Others wereswamped. The small raft was whirled round and round, a few men clingingto it, Harry and Jacob among them keeping their hold. Here and therewere despairing faces gazing their last at the sky ere they sank beneaththe water. Now and then an arm was seen uplifted grasping at air.Broken spars and planks escaped from the unfinished rafts, drowning menclinging to them, though many of those who clung there soon dropped off.

  Harry and Jacob had helped three shipmates to climb up on to the raft.Not far off a man was struggling to gain a spar which floated near.Even by that light he was seen to be an officer.

  "It's the captain!" cried Harry; "I must save him."

  Springing from the raft, he swam out towards the captain. The officerwas close to a spar, but his hand failed to clutch it, and he sank.Harry dived rapidly. His hand grasped the captain's collar, and with anupward stroke he returned to the surface. He looked around. The sparwas not an arm's length from him. Placing the captain across it, hepushed it towards the raft. The captain was saved from immediate death.But what prospect had those poor fellows, on that small raft out on thestormy ocean, of being saved? No sail was in sight. One boat only hadescaped destruction. She was already at some distance. Those in herdid not perceive the raft. Already, probably, she was overloaded. Soona sail was hoisted and she stood away to the westward. The saddestsight of all was to see the poor fellows clinging to the pieces of wreckone by one dropping off. The sun rose, the mist cleared away. Six menon the raft alone remained on the waste of waters.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  A NEW CLAIMANT FOR STANMORE.

  Colonel Everard lay on his bed propped up with pillows. The window wasopen. He gazed forth over the green lawn, the bright blue sea and theIsle of Wight smiling in the distance. Three persons were in the room.Near his head stood his faithful attendant and old companion-in-arms; onthe other side was his sister. Tears were in her eyes, while Mabelstood near the foot of the bed with her hands clasped, gazing on thatvenerated countenance. The sand of life was ebbing fast, a few grainsalone remained.

  "Paul, we have fought together. We have served our country well when wehad youth and strength," whispered the old officer, holding the hand ofhis faithful attendant. "You don't forget that day when our bravegeneral fell. Ere he died he heard that the enemy were put to flight,the victory won. Sister, he died happy, and so do I; for I may say withall humbleness, I have fought the good fight. I have tried to do myduty, but I trust in One mighty to save." Then returning to oldrecollections, "You remember that day, Paul; that battle, the mostglorious of our many fields. And now, Paul, we shall never fight again.You must look after these two here, sister Ann and my sweet Mabel.They want a trustworthy protector. I never knew you to fail me, Paul."

  His voice as he spoke was sinking lower and lower. A few more words hespoke expressive of the Christian's hope. Then his hands relaxed theirgrasp, and those who watched him knew that the noble old man was dead.

  The colonel's will was opened. By his express desire no funeral pompattended him to the grave. Paul, with e
ight of his older tenants,simple cottagers, several of whom had been soldiers, bore his coffin.

  Seldom, however, has a longer line of mourners attended a plume-bedeckedhearse than than which followed on foot the remains of Colonel Everard.Not only did all the inhabitants of Lynderton join the procession, butvast numbers of persons from the surrounding districts came to showtheir respect to the memory of one who had so long dwelt among them, andwhose many virtues had won their love.

  The estates were entailed on the next heir-at-law, while such propertyas the colonel could leave was given to his well-beloved sister, MadamEverard.

  He had not, however, been a saving man; indeed, the expenses of hisposition had been considerable, and the sum was but small. Mabel andher aunt were to remain in possession of Stanmore Park till the returnof Captain Everard from sea.

  The funeral was over, and once more the household settled down intotheir usual ways. Paul was more active than ever: his eye waseverywhere, feeling that he was obeying his master's behests in watchingover the interests of the captain and his daughter.

  The same coach which a few months before had brought Harry Tryonsouthward, had now among its passengers no less a person than Mr. SilasSleech. He was in deep mourning--a proper respect to the memory of hislate uncle, Colonel Everard. Yet his countenance bore no signs ofgrief. On the contrary, some pleasant thoughts seemed to occupy hismind, as he frequently rubbed his hands together and smiledcomplacently.

  He was received with cordiality by his respected parent, the elder Mr.Sleech, though the rest of the family, consisting of several brothersand four fair sisters, welcomed him apparently with less affection.Silas had brought but little luggage, but he held a tin case ofconsiderable size which he had never allowed to quit his hand. Thefamily greetings over, he and his father retired to the inner office.With intense interest they examined the contents of the case.

  "It's all right, father, I tell you," exclaimed Silas. "Stanmore isours, as sure as fate. My mother was the elder sister next to thecolonel, and the captain's father never had any marriage lines to show.I tell you the captain has no more right to the name of Everard than oldPike the mace-bearer. If the captain has a certificate, where is it?Let him show it; but he has not; and that little jade Mabel, who looksso proudly down upon me especially, must now be brought down a peg ortwo herself. She will be humble enough before long, or I am mistaken."

  "Silas, you ought to be Lord Chancellor," exclaimed his father; "youhave managed this affair with wonderful acuteness and judgment. Ialways thought there was a screw loose about Tom Everard's foreignmarriage, his wife dying suddenly, and he coming home with a small babyand a strange nurse, who could not speak a word of English or tellanybody what had happened. However, now we have got the law on ourside, the sooner we take possession of our rights the better. You and Iwill see to that to-morrow. We will behave handsomely to Madam Everard.Indeed, I rather suspect that she won't be so badly off, and whatevershe has will go to Mabel, so there's no use falling out too much withthem. However, if your mother's husband and children ought to be atStanmore, why to Stanmore we will go, so that is settled."

  "Don't tell the rest of them, though, father," said Silas. "They willbe blabbing it out, and Madam Everard will be getting wind of it, and weshan't have the pleasure of giving them the little surprise I long for;come, you must not baulk me in that, daddy. A Lord Chancellor knowswhat's what, and if I don't kick up a pretty shindy in Stanmore Parkbefore long, my name's not Silas Sleech."

  Madam Everard and niece were seated in the study after breakfast. Ithad been the colonel's sitting-room, and they occupied it with fondaffection, no one, however, making use of his arm-chair. It seemed asif his spirit was often there, come down from the realms of the blest,while they talked of him and their lost Lucy.

  The servant entered, and Madam Everard heard with no smalldissatisfaction the names of her little-esteemed brother-in-law and hiseldest son. They entered the room not with quite so much confidence asmight have been expected.

  "Why, Ann, you look somewhat solemn this fine morning," observed theelder, as he took a seat, not very close to Madam Everard. Silas drewsomewhat nearer to Mabel, but rising, she placed herself on the sofanear her aunt, and continued the embroidery at which she was working,scarcely looking up. The elder Sleech turned his hat about severaltimes. He did not look as if he felt himself a member of the Everardfamily.

  Silas had more impudence than his father, and this enabled him toovercome a certain feeling which would intrude, in spite of his assumedconfidence.

  "I have come about business, Ann," at last said Mr. Sleech the elder,"Silas and I. We wish to do everything pleasant and to give noannoyance; but you must know, Ann, when your elder sister married me,she married the family lawyer that was. You have always supposed thatTom Everard--the captain's father--had married abroad; at all events thecaptain was brought home as a baby by Tom, who said he was his lawfulchild. Now it turns out that either Tom was mistaken, or else he told afib--I don't like to use strong language. If a man cannot prove hismarriage he is not married; that's what the law says. Now Tom to hisdeath never had any marriage certificate to exhibit. It follows,therefore, in the eye of the law, that he was not married, and so yousee your sister Jane became heir-at-law of her late brother, and I, asher representative, am--or rather my son Silas is--the rightfulpossessor of Stanmore Park. It's as clear as a pike-staff, Ann, and sothere's no use making any ado about it."

  While Mr. Sleech, senior, was speaking, Madam Everard had maintained aperfect composure. Poor Mabel's colour came and went. She felt achoking sensation in her throat. Not for herself did she care, she wasthinking of her gallant father, away from home fighting his country'sbattles--when he returned to find himself disinherited. It would be agrievous blow. She felt, too, that she could no longer, when she gaveher hand, endow her husband with the wealth she thought she should valuemore for his sake than for her own.

  "You say you called on a matter of business," said Madam Everard, withbecoming dignity. "As a man of business we will treat you. I will sendfor Mr. Wallace, my late brother's solicitor, and should he be satisfiedthat you are the rightful owner of Stanmore, and that Captain Everardhas no claim on it, my niece and I will quit the house. Till then Imust request you to leave us at peace. You must be aware that theinformation you bring us is not pleasant."

  Mabel kept her lips pressed together. She dared not trust her voice,she simply bowed her assent to her aunt's request.

  "Well, well, Ann, I am not surprised that you are annoyed," said Mr.Sleech, rising from his seat; "that is but natural. Of course, we aregentlemen, and wish to treat you as ladies. We will just take a lookround the park and grounds. I have a notion a good many trees should becut down. The colonel was over-squeamish about felling timber; andMabel, my dear, I wish you would not look so glum. Perhaps if you playyour cards well, you may still be mistress of Stanmore, eh? Silas, yourogue, you used to admire your pretty little cousin."

  Silas rolled his round eyes and gave a glance at Mabel which she, atleast, thought bespoke very little affection, for she turned a way fromhim with a feeling of loathing, not deigning to make any remark.

  "You know your way," said Madam Everard; "you must do as you think fit.We cannot interfere."

  Without putting out her hand, she gave a stately bow to herbrother-in-law and nephew. A chuckle reached her ears as the doorclosed behind them.

  "Jane, Jane, what have you brought upon us?" she exclaimed,apostrophising her deceased sister.

  The marriage had been a hateful one from the first. Old Sleech had,even as a young man, been almost as odious as his son, and no one couldaccount for Jane Everard's infatuation and bad taste when she insistedon marrying him.

  Madam Everard rang the bell, and begged that Paul Gauntlett would cometo her. He obeyed the summons, and was soon afterwards trotting off onthe horse with which he always accompanied the colonel to Lynderton.Mr. Wallace was at home, and very quickly made
his appearance atStanmore, escaping an encounter with the Sleeches, who were still makingtheir round of the park, notching trees which they agreed might comedown to advantage and clear a pretty penny.

  Mr. Wallace heard Madam Everard's statement with a grave face.

  "I do not see much that is hopeful about it, but we will try what thelaw can do. If the law decides that Captain Everard is not the heir, wehave no help for it. I will look over all the deeds deposited with me,but to my recollection I have no certificate or copy of certificate ofMr. Tom Everard's marriage. He must have been very young at the time,at all events. An older man would probably have taken more care of soimportant a document. However, I will see Mr. Sleech, and endeavour topersuade him that he cannot justly at present push his claims. We mustproceed cautiously, for although you are in possession, I fear that hecan prove himself to be heir-at-law."

  Mr. Wallace had left the house some time before the Sleeches returned.They came in by the garden entrance, and walked without ceremony intothe study, where Mabel and her aunt were still sitting.

  "Well, we have had a good look round the grounds, Ann, and I have cometo the conclusion that the colonel did not make half as much of theproperty as he might have done. Why, I can tell you, eight thousandpounds' worth of timber might be cut down--Silas says ten thousand, butI think that he is a little over the mark--without doing any harm to theplace, and there are no end of improvements he and I have beenproposing."

  "No one must venture to cut down timber on this property without theleave of my nephew, the captain," said Madam Everard,