Cord and Creese

by James De Mille

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  INQUIRIES.

  So many years had elapsed since Brandon had last been in the villagewhich bore the family name that he had no fear of being recognized. Hehad been a boy then, he was now a man. His features had passed froma transition state into their maturer form, and a thick beard andmustache, the growth of the long voyage, covered the lower part of theface like a mask. His nose which, when he left, had a boyish roundnessof outline, had since become refined and chiseled into the straight,thin Grecian type. His eyes alone remained the same, yet the expressionhad grown different, even as the soul that looked forth through them hadbeen changed by experience and by suffering.

  He gave himself out at the inn as an American merchant, and went out tobegin his inquiries. Tearing two buttons off his coat, he entered theshop of the village tailor.

  "Good-morning," said he, civilly.

  "Good-morning, Sir; fine morning, Sir," answered the tailor, volubly. Hewas a little man, with a cast in his eye, and on looking at Brandon hehad to put his head on one side, which he did with a quick, odd gesture.

  "There are two buttons off my coat, and I want to know if you can repairit for me?"

  "Certainly, Sir; certainly. Take off your coat, Sir, and sit down."

  "The buttons," said Brandon, "are a little odd; but if you have not gotany exactly like them, any thing similar will do."

  "Oh, I think we'll fit you out, Sir. I think we'll fit you out,"rejoined the tailor, briskly.

  He bustled about among his boxes and drawers, pulled out a large numberof articles, and finally began to select the buttons which were nearestlike those on the coat.

  "This is a fine little village," said Brandon, carelessly.

  "Yes, Sir; that's a fact, Sir; that's just what every body says, Sir."

  "What old Hall is that which I saw just outside the village?"

  "Ah, Sir, that old Hall is the very best in the whole county. It isBrandon Hall, Sir."

  "Brandon Hall?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "I suppose this village takes the name from the Hall--or is it the Hallthat is named after the village?"

  "Well, neither, Sir. Both of them were named after the Brandon family."

  "Is it an old family? It must be, of course."

  "The oldest in the county, Sir."

  "I wonder if Mr. Brandon would let a stranger go through his grounds?There is a hill back of the house that I should like to see."

  "Mr. Brandon!" exclaimed the tailor, shaking his head; "Mr. Brandon!There ain't no Mr. Brandon now!"

  "How is that?"

  "Gone, Sir--ruined--died out."

  "Then the man that lives there now is not Mr. Brandon?"

  "Nothing of the kind, Sir! He, Sir! Why he isn't fit to clean the shoesof any of the old Brandons!"

  "Who is he?"

  "His name, Sir, is Potts."

  "Potts! That doesn't sound like one of your old county names."

  "I should think not, Sir. Potts! Why, Sir, he's generally believedin this here community to be a villain, Sir," said the little tailor,mysteriously, and with the look of a man who would like very well to bequestioned further.

  Brandon humored him. "How is that?"

  "It's a long story, Sir."

  "Oh, well--tell it. I have a great curiosity to hear any old storiescurrent in your English villages. I'm an American, and English life isnew to me."

  "I'll bet you never heard any thing like this in all your born days."

  "Tell it then, by all means."

  The tailor jumped down from his seat, went mysteriously to the door,looked cautiously out, and then returned.

  "It's just as well to be a little careful," said he, "for if that manknew that I was talking about him he'd take it out of me quick enough, Itell you."

  "You seem to be afraid of him."

  "We're all afraid of him in the village, and hate him; but I hope to Godhe'll catch it yet!"

  "How can you be afraid of him? You all say that this is a free country."

  "No man, Sir, in any country, is free, except he's rich. Poor peoplecan be oppressed in many ways; and most of us are in one way or otherdependent on him. We hate him all the worse, though. But I'll tell youabout him."

  "Yes, go on."

  "Well, Sir, old Mr. Brandon, about twenty years ago, was one of therichest men in the county. About fifteen years ago the man Potts turnedup, and however the old man took a fancy to him I never could see, buthe did take a fancy to him, put all his money in some tin mines thatPotts had started, and the end of it was Potts turned out a scoundrel,as every one said he would, swindled the old man out of every penny, andruined him completely. Brandon had to sell his estate, and Potts boughtit with the very money out of which he had cheated the old man."

  "Oh! impossible!" said Brandon. "Isn't that some village gossip?"

  "I wish it was, Sir--but it ain't. Go ask any man here, and he'll tellyou the same."

  "And what became of the family?" asked Brandon, calmly.

  "Ah, Sir! that is the worst part of it."

  "Why?"

  "I'll tell you, Sir. He was ruined. He gave up all. He hadn't a pennyleft. He went out of the Hall and lived for a short time in a smallhouse at the other end of the village. At last he spent what littlemoney he had left, and they all got sick. You wouldn't believe whathappened after that."

  "What was it?"

  "They were all taken to the alms-house."

  A burst of thunder seemed to sound in Brandon's ears as he heard this,which he had never even remotely imagined. The tailor was occupied withhis own thoughts, and did not notice the wildness that for an instantappeared in Brandon's eyes. The latter for a moment felt paralyzedand struck down into nothingness by the shock of that tremendousintelligence.

  "The people felt dreadfully about it," continued the tailor, "but theycouldn't do any thing. It was Potts who had the family taken to thealms-house. Nobody dared to interfere."

  "Did none of the county families do anything?" said Brandon, who atlast, by a violent effort, had regained his composure.

  "No. They had all been insulted by the old man, so now they let himsuffer."

  "Had he no old friends, or even acquaintances?"

  "Well, that's what we all asked ourselves, Sir; but at any rate, whetherhe had or not, they didn't turn up--that is, not in time. There was ayoung man here when it was too late."

  "A young man?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Was he a relative?"

  "Oh no, Sir, only a lawyer's clerk; wanted to see about business I daresay. Perhaps to collect a bill. Let me see; the lawyer who sent him wasnamed Thornton."

  "Thornton!" said Brandon, as the name sank into his soul.

  "Yes; he lived at Holby."

  Brandon drew a long breath.

  "No, Sir; no friends came, whether he had any or not. They were all sickat the alms-house for weeks."

  "And I suppose they all died there?" said Brandon, in a strange, sweetvoice.

  "No, Sir. They were not so happy."

  "What suffering could be greater?"

  "They do talk dreadfully in this town, Sir; and I dare say it's nottrue, but if it is it's enough to make a man's blood ran cold."

  "You excite my curiosity. Remember I am an American, and these thingsseem odd to me. I always thought your British aristocrats could not beruined."

  "Here was one, Sir, that was, anyhow."

  "Go on."

  "Well, Sir, the old man died in the alms-house. The others got well. Assoon as they were well enough they went away."

  "How did they get away?"

  "Potts helped them," replied the tailor, in a peculiar tone. "They wentaway from the village."

  "Where did they go?"

  "People say to Liverpool. I only tell what I know. I heard young BillPotts, the old fellow's son, boasting one night at the inn where he washalf drunk, how they had served the Brandons. He said they wanted toleave the village, so his father helped them away to America."


  "To America?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  Brandon made no rejoinder.

  "Bill Potts said they went to Liverpool, and then left for America tomake their fortunes."

  "What part of America?" asked Brandon, indifferently. "I never saw orheard of them."

  "Didn't you, Sir?" asked the tailor, who evidently thought that Americawas like some English county, where every body may hear of every bodyelse. "That's odd, too. I was going to ask you if you had."

  "I wonder what ship they went out in?"

  "That I can't say, Sir. Bill Potts kept dark about that. He said onething, though, that set us thinking."

  "What was that?"

  "Why, that they went out in an emigrant ship as steerage passengers."

  Brandon was silent.

  "Poor people!" said he at last.

  By this time the tailor had finished his coat and handed it back to him.Having obtained all the information that the man could give Brandon paidhim and left.

  Passing by the inn he walked on till he came to the alms-house. Here hestood for a while and looked at it.

  Brandon alms-house was small, badly planned, badly managed, andbadly built; every thing done there was badly and meanly done. It waswhite-washed from the topmost point of every chimney down to the lowestedge of the basement. A whited sepulchre. For there was foulness there,in the air, in the surroundings, in every thing. Squalor and dirtreigned. His heart grew sick as those hideous walls rose before hissight.

  Between this and Brandon Hall there was a difference, a distance almostimmeasurable; to pass from one to the other might be conceived of asincredible; and yet that passage had been made.

  To fall so far as to go the whole distance between the two; to begin inone and end in the other; to be born, brought up, and live and move andhave one's being in the one, and then to die in the other; what was moreincredible than this? Yet this had been the fate of his father.

  Leaving the place, he walked directly toward Brandon Hall.

  Brandon Hall was begun, nobody knows exactly when; but it is said thatthe foundations were laid before the time of Egbert. In all parts of theold mansion the progress of English civilization might be studied; inthe Norman arches of the old chapel, the slender pointed style of thefifteenth century doorway that opened to the same, the false Grecian ofthe early Tudor period, and the wing added in Elizabeth's day, the daysof that old Ralph Brandon who sank his ship and its treasure to preventit from falling into the hands of the enemy.

  Around this grand old Hall were scenes which could be found nowheresave in England. Wide fields, forever green with grass like velvet, overwhich rose groves of oak and elm, giving shelter to innumerable birds.There the deer bounded and the hare found a covert. The broad avenuethat led to the Hall went up through a world of rich sylvan scenery,winding through groves and meadows and over undulating ground. Beforethe Hall lay the open sea about three miles away; but the Hall was on aneminence and overlooked all the intervening ground. Standing thereone might see the gradual decline of the country as it sloped downwardtoward the margin of the ocean. On the left a bold promontory jutted farout, on the nearer side of which there was an island with a light-house;on the right was another promontory, not so bold. Between these two thewhole country was like a garden. A little cove gave shelter to smallvessels, and around this cove was the village of Brandon.

  Brandon Hall was one of the oldest and most magnificent of the greathalls of England. As Brandon looked upon it it rose before him amidstthe groves of six hundred years, its many-gabled roof rising out fromamidst a sea of foliage, speaking of wealth, luxury, splendor, power,influence, and all that men hope for, or struggle for, or fight for;from all of which he and his had been cast out; and the one who had donethis was even now occupying the old ancestral seat of his family.

  Brandon entered the gate, and walked up the long avenue till he reachedthe Hall. Here he rang the bell, and a servant appeared. "Is Mr. Pottsat home?"

  "Yes," said the man, brusquely.

  "I wish to see him."

  "Who shall I say?"

  "Mr. Hendricks, from America."

  The man showed him into the drawing-room. Brandon seated himself andwaited. The room was furnished in the most elegant manner, most of thefurniture being old, and all familiar to him. He took a hasty glancearound, and closed his eyes as if to shut it all out from sight.

  In a short time a man entered.

  He appeared to be between fifty and sixty years of age, of medium size,broad-shouldered and stout. He had a thoroughly plebeian air; he wasdressed in black, and had a bunch of large seals dangling from beneathhis waistcoat. His face was round and fleshy, his eyes were small,and his head was bald. The general expression of his face was that ofgood-natured simplicity. As he caught sight of Brandon a frank smile ofwelcome arose on his broad, fat face.

  "YOU ARE, SIR. JOHN POTTS OF POTTS HALL."]

  Brandon rose and bowed. "Am I addressing Mr. John Potts?"

  "You are, Sir. John Potts of Potts Hall."

  "Potts of Potts Hall!" repeated Brandon. Then, drawing a card from hispocket he handed it to Potts. He had procured some of these in London.The card read as follows:

  BEAMISH & HENDRICKS, FLOUR MERCHANTS & PROVISION DEALERS, 88 FRONTSTREET, CINCINNATI, OHIO.

  "I, Sir," said Brandon, "am Mr. Hendricks, junior partner in Beamish &Hendricks, and I hope you are quite well."

  "Very well, thank you," answered Potts, smiling and sitting down. "I amhappy to see you."

  "Do you keep your health, Sir?"

  "Thank you, I do," said Potts. "A touch of rheumatism at odd times,that's all."

  Brandon's manner was stiff and formal, and his voice had assumed aslight nasal intonation. Potts had evidently looked on him as a perfectstranger.

  "I hope, Sir, that I am not taking up your valuable time. You Britishnoblemen have your valuable time, I know, as well as we business men."

  "No, Sir, no, Sir, not at all," said Potts, evidently greatly delightedat being considered a British nobleman.

  "Well, Sir John--or is it my lord?" said Brandon, interrogatively,correcting himself, and looking inquiringly at Potts.

  "Sir John'll do," said Potts.

  "Well, Sir John. Being in England on business, I came to ask you a fewquestions about a matter of some importance to us."

  "Proceed, Sir!" said Potts, with great dignity.

  "There's a young man that came into our employ last October whom we tooka fancy to, or rather my senior did, and we have an idea of promotinghim. My senior thinks the world of him, has the young man at hishouse, and he is even making up to his daughter. He calls himselfBrandon--Frank Brandon."

  At this Potts started from an easy lounging attitude, in which he wastrying to "do" the British noble, and with startling intensity of gazelooked Brandon full in the face.

  "I think the young man is fairish," continues Brandon, "but nothingextraordinary. He is industrious and sober, but he ain't quick, andhe never had any real business experience till he came to us. Now, mysenior from the very first was infatuated with him, gave him a largesalary, and, in spite of my warnings that he ought to be cautious, hewants to make him head-clerk, with an eye to making him partnernext year. And so bent on this is he that I know he would dissolvepartnership with me if I refused, take the young man, let him marry hisdaughter, and leave him all his money when he dies. That's no small sum,for old Mr. Beamish is worth in real estate round Cincinnati over twomillions of dollars. So, you see, I have a right to feel anxious, moreespecially as I don't mind telling you, Sir John, who understandthese matters, that I thought I had a very good chance myself with oldBeamish's daughter."

  Brandon spoke all this very rapidly, and with the air of one who wastrying to conceal his feelings of dislike to the clerk of whom he was sojealous. Potts looked at him with an encouraging smile, and asked, as hestopped,

  "And how did you happen to hear of me?"

  "That's just what I was coming to. Sir John!" Brandon drew hi
s chairnearer, apparently in deep excitement, and in a more nasal tone thanever, with a confidential air, he went on:

  "You see, I mistrusted this young man who was carrying every thingbefore him with a high hand, right in my very teeth, and I watchedhim. I pumped him to see if I couldn't get him to tell something abouthimself. But the fellow was always on his guard, and always told thesame story. This is what he tells: He says that his father was RalphBrandon of Brandon Hall, Devonshire, and that he got very poor--he wasruined, in fact, by--I beg your pardon, Sir John, but he says it wasyou, and that you drove the family away. They then came over to America,and he got to Cincinnati. The old man, he says, died before they left,but he won't tell what became of the others. I confess I believed it wasall a lie, and didn't think there was any such place as Brandon Hall, soI determined to find out, naturally enough, Sir John, when two millionswere at stake."

  Potts winked.

  "Well, I suddenly found my health giving way, and had to come to Europe.You see what a delicate creature I am!"

  Potts laughed with intense glee.

  "And I came here after wandering about, trying to find it. I heard atlast that there was a place that used to be Brandon Hall, though mostpeople call it Potts Hall. Now, I thought, my fine young man, I'll catchyou; for I'll call on Sir John himself and ask him."

  "You did right, Sir," said Potts, who had taken an intense interest inthis narrative. "I'm the very man you ought to have come to. I can tellyou all you want. This Brandon is a miserable swindler."

  "Good! I thought so. You'll give me that, Sir John, over your own name,will you?" cried Brandon, in great apparent excitement.

  "Of course I will," said Potts, "and a good deal more. But tell me,first, what that young devil said as to how he got to Cincinnati? Howdid he find his way there?"

  "He would never tell."

  "What became of his mother and sister?"

  "He wouldn't say."

  "All I know," said Potts, "is this. I got official information that theyall died at Quebec."

  Brandon looked suddenly at the floor and gasped. In a moment he hadrecovered.

  "Curse him! then this fellow is an impostor?"

  "No," said Potts, "he must have escaped. It's possible. There was someconfusion at Quebec about names."

  "Then his name may really be Frank Brandon?"

  "It must be," said Potts. "Anyhow, the others are all right."

  "Are what?"

  "All right; dead you know. That's why he don't like to tell you aboutthem."

  "Well, now, Sir John, could you tell me what you know about this youngman, since you think he must be the same one?"

  "I know he must be, and I'll tell you all about him and the whole cursedlot. In the first place," continued Potts, clearing his throat, "oldBrandon was one of the cursedest old fools that ever lived. He was verywell off but wanted to get richer, and so he speculated in a tin mine inCornwall. I was acquainted with him at the time and used to respect him.He persuaded me--I was always off-handed about money, and a careless,easy fellow--he persuaded me to invest in it also. I did so, but at theend of a few years I found out that the tin mine was a rotten concern,and sold out. I sold at a very high price, for people believed it was asplendid property. After this I found another mine and made money handover fist. I warned old Brandon, and so did every body, but he didn'tcare a fig for what we said, and finally, one fine morning, he waked upand found himself ruined.

  "He was more utterly ruined than any man I ever knew of, and all hisestates were sold. I had made some money, few others in the countyhad any ready cash, the sale was forced, and I bought the wholeestablishment at a remarkably low figure. I got old Brandy--Brandy wasa nickname I gave the old fellow--I got him a house in the village,and supported him for a while with his wife and daughter and his greatlubberly boy. I soon found out what vipers they were. They all turnedagainst their benefactor, and dared to say that I had ruined theirfather. In fact, my only fault was buying the place, and that was anadvantage to old Brandy rather than an injury. It shows, though, whathuman nature is.

  "They all got sick at last, and as they had no one to nurse them, I veryconsiderately sent them all to the alms-house, where they had good beds,good attendance, and plenty to eat and drink. No matter what I did forthem they abused me. They reviled me, for sending them to a comfortablehome, and old Brandy was the worst of all. I used to go and visit himtwo or three times a day, and he always cursed me. Old Brandy did getawfully profane, that's a fact. The reason was his infernal pride. Lookat me, now! I'm not proud. Put me in the alms-house, and would I curseyou? I hope not.

  "At last old Brandy died, and of course I had to look out for thefamily. They seemed thrown on my hands, you know, and I was toogood-natured to let them suffer, although they treated me so abominably.The best thing I could think of was to ship them all off to America,where they could all get rich. So I took them to Liverpool."

  "Did they want to go?"

  "They didn't seem to have an idea in their heads. They looked and actedjust like three born fools."

  "Strange!"

  "I let a friend of mine see about them, as I had considerable to do, andhe got them a passage."

  "I suppose you paid their way out."

  "I did, Sir," said Potts, with an air of munificence; "but, between youand me, it didn't cost much."

  "I should think it most have cost a considerable sum."

  "Oh no! Clark saw to that. Clark got them places as steeragepassengers."

  "Young Brandon told me once that he came out as cabin passenger."

  "That's his cursed pride. He went out in the steerage, and a devilishhard time he had too."

  "Why?"

  "Oh, he was a little crowded, I think! There were six hundred emigrantson board the _Tecumseh_--"

  "The what?"

  "The _Tecumseh_. Clark did that business neatly. Each passenger had totake his own provisions, so he supplied them with a lot. Now what do youthink he gave them?"

  "I can't imagine."

  "He bought them some damaged bread at one quarter the usual price. Itwas all mouldy, you know," said Potts, trying to make Brandon see thejoke. "I declare Clark and I roared over it for a couple of months,thinking how surprised they must have been when they sat down to eattheir first dinner."

  "That was very neat," rejoined Brandon.

  "They were all sick when they left," said Potts; "but before they got toQuebec they were sicker, I'll bet."

  "Why so?"

  "Did you ever hear of the ship-fever?" said Potts, in a low voice whichsent a sharp trill through every fibre of Brandon's being. He could onlynod his head.

  "Well, the _Tecumseh_, with her six hundred passengers, afforded anuncommon fine field for the ship-fever. That's what I was going toobserve. They had a great time at Quebec last summer; but it wasunanimously voted that the _Tecumseh_ was the worst ship of the lot.I send out an agent to see what had become of my three friends, andhe came back and told me all. He said that about four hundred of the_Tecumseh's_ passengers died during the voyage, and ever so many moreafter the landing. The obtained a list of the dead from the quarantinerecords, and among them were those of the these three youthful Brandons.Yes, they joined old Cognac pretty soon--lovely and pleasant in theirlives, and in death not divided. But this young devil that you speak ofmust have escaped. I dare say he did, for the confusion was awful."

  "But couldn't there have been another son?"

  "Oh no. There was another son, the eldest, the worst of the whole lot,so infernally bad that even old Brandy himself couldn't stand it, butpacked him off to Botany Bay. It's well he went of his own accord, forif he hadn't the law would have sent him there at last transported forlife."

  "Perhaps this man is the same one."

  "Oh no. This eldest Brandy is dead."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Certain--best authority. A business friend of mine was in the same shipwith him. Brandy was coming home to see his friends. He fell overboardand my friend saw him
drown. It was in the Indian Ocean."

  "When was that?"

  "Last September."

  "Oh, then this one must be the other of course!"

  "No doubt of that, I think," said Potts, cheerily.

  Brandon rose. "I feel much obliged. Sir John," said he, stiffly, andwith his usual nasal tone, "for your kindness. This is just what I want.I'll put a stop to my young man's game. It's worth coming to England tofind out this."

  "Well, when you walk him out of your office, give him my respects andtell him I'd be very happy to see him. For I would, you know. I reallywould."

  "I'll tell him so," said Brandon, "and if he is alive perhaps he'll comehere."

  "Ha! ha! ha!" roared Potts.

  "Ha! ha!" laughed Brandon, and pretending not to see Potts'soutstretched hand, he bowed and left. He walked rapidly down the avenue.He felt stifled. The horrors that had been revealed to him had been butin part anticipated. Could there be any thing worse?

  He left the gates and walked quickly away, he knew not where. Turninginto a by-path he went up a hill and finally sat down. Brandon Hall laynot far away. In front was the village and the sea beyond it. All thetime there was but one train of thoughts in his mind. His wrongstook shape and framed themselves into a few sharply defined ideas. Hemuttered to himself over and over the things that were in his mind:"Myself disinherited and exiled! My father ruined and broken-hearted!My father killed! My mother, brother, and sister banished, starved, andmurdered!"

  He, too, as far as Potts's will was concerned, had been slain. He wasalone and had no hope that any of his family could survive. Now, as hesat there alone, he needed to make his plans for the future. One thingstood out prominently before him, which was that he must go immediatelyto Quebec to find out finally and absolutely the fate of the family.

  Then could any thing else be done in England? He thought over the namesof those who had been the most intimate friends of his father--Thornton,Langhetti, Despard. Thornton had neglected his father in his hour ofneed. He had merely sent a clerk to make inquiries after all was over.The elder Langhetti, Brandon knew, was dead. Where were the others? Noneof them, at any rate, had interfered.

  There remained the family of Despard. Brandon was aware that the Colonelhad a brother in the army, but where he was he knew not nor did he care.If he chose to look in the army register he might very easily find out;but why should he? He had never known or heard much of him in any way.

  There remained Courtenay Despard, the son of Lionel, he to whom the MS.of the dead might be considered after all as chiefly devolving. Of himBrandon knew absolutely nothing, not even whether he was alive or dead.

  For a time he discussed the question in his mind whether it might notbe well to seek him out so as to show him his father's fate and gain hisco-operation. But after a few moments' consideration he dismissed thisthought. Why should he seek his help? Courtenay Despard, if alive, mightbe very unfit for the purpose. He might be timid, or indifferent, ordull, or indolent. Why make any advances to one whom he did not know?Afterward it might be well to find him, and see what might be done withor through him; but as yet there could be no reason whatever whyhe should take up his time in searching for him or in winning hisconfidence.

  The end of it all was that he concluded whatever he did to do it byhimself, with no human being as his confidant.

  Only one or two persons in all the world knew that he was alive, andthey were not capable, under any circumstances, of betraying him. Andwhere now was Beatrice? In the power of this man whom Brandon had justleft. Had she seen him as he came and went? Had she heard his voice ashe spoke in that assumed tone? But Brandon found it necessary to crushdown all thoughts of her.

  One thing gave him profound satisfaction, and this was that Potts didnot suspect him for an instant. And now how could he deal with Potts?The man had become wealthy and powerful. To cope with him needed wealthand power. How could Brandon obtain these? At the utmost he could onlycount upon the fifteen thousand pounds which Compton would remit. Thiswould be as nothing to help him against his enemy. He had written toCompton that he had fallen overboard and been picked up, and had toldthe same to the London agent under the strictest secrecy, so as to beable to get the money which he needed. Yet after he got it all, whatwould be the benefit? First of all, wealth was necessary.

  Now more than ever there came to his mind the ancestral letter which hisfather had inclosed to him--the message from old Ralph Brandon in thetreasure-ship. It was a wild, mad hope; but was it unattainable? Thishe felt was now the one object that lay before him; this must first besought after, and nothing else could be attempted or even thoughtof till it had been tried. If he failed, then other things might beconsidered.

  Sitting there on his lonely height, in sight of his ancestral home, hetook out his father's last letter and read it again, after which he oncemore read the old message from the treasure-ship:

  "One league due northe of a smalle islet northe of the Islet of SantaCruz northe of San Salvador----I Ralphe Brandon in my shippe Phoenix ambecalmed and surrounded by a Spanish fleete----My shippe is filled withspoyle the Plunder of III galleons----wealth which myghte purchase akyngdom-tresure equalle to an Empyr's revenue----Gold and jeweles incountless store----and God forbydde that itt shall falle into the handsof the Enemye----I therefore Ralphe Brandon out of mine owne good wyland intente and that of all my men sink this shippe rather than be takenalyve----I send this by my trusty seaman Peter Leggit who with IX otherstolde off by lot will trye to escape in the Boate by nighte----If thiscometh haply into the hands of my sonne Philip let him herebye knowethat in this place is all this tresure----which haply may yet be gatherdfrom the sea----the Islet is knowne by III rockes that be pushed up likeIII needles from the sande.

  "Ralphe Brandon"

  Five days afterward Brandon, with his Hindu servant, was sailing out ofthe Mersey River on his way to Quebec.