CHAPTER XIV.
A STRANGE DISCOVERY.
CAPTAIN BROWN had employed Jacques Bernoux, the French fisherman, toget the spy-glass Walter had forgotten and left on the rock, and hecame on board, one morning, to bring it.
“Do you know a man who goes about the piers and streets sellingbaskets? an old man, and an Englishman?” said Walter.
“John Bell?”
“That’s the name.”
“Yes; pass his place every day going to my boat.”
“Will you ask him to come on board the vessel to-morrow?” asked thecaptain.
“Yes, sir.”
Early the next morning the basket-maker made his appearance with alarge burden of baskets; he had been so engaged manufacturing that itkept him out of the streets—the reason that Walter couldn’t find him.
The captain, taking him into the cabin, said, “My friend, when you washere, a few days ago, you gave me some particulars of your life. Thisyoung man, Mr. Griffin, my mate, was not present; but having heardwhat then passed between us, he has not a doubt but that Charles Bell,who built and is part owner of this vessel, is your oldest son. As formyself, residing in another part of the country, I have no personalknowledge of the circumstances; but I must say that as related by him,they seem to me most probable. But you can hear what he has to sayabout it, and judge for yourself.”
While the captain was speaking, the basket-maker became very pale,trembled, and big tears rolled down his hollow cheeks.
“For the sake of Heaven, captain,” he exclaimed, “do not raise in thissad heart hopes that may have no foundation. I’ve made up my mind toendure the worst, as God shall give me strength, till I lay these bonesin the grave.”
“I am the last person to do that; but I have been turning the subjectover in my mind ever since you were here last, and the more I reflectupon the young man’s story, the more the probability of it grows uponme.”
The basket-maker, hearing these words, made a sign to Walter, whogave him substantially the same statement he had made to Ned and thecaptain. The old man was deeply affected; he evidently saw stronggrounds for believing the person described was his child, but wasfearful of cherishing a premature hope.
“I can bear what I have borne,” he said, “but the disappointment woulddrive me mad. You say, young man, that you have known this personintimately?”
“Yes, sir, as well as it’s possible for one person to know another.”
“And that his name is Charles?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s his age?”
“I think about twenty-three.”
“My son, if living, would be twenty-three next Michaelmas. What sort ofa looking man is this Charles Bell?”
“Hair, eyes, and complexion just like yours, but he is not so large aman as you are.”
“Those are the features of my boy,” replied the old man, evidentlygaining confidence as he continued his inquiries.
“You say you didn’t know this Charles Bell when he first came to ElmIsland, and this Mr. Rhines and his wife took him.”
“No, sir; I was too young; but I’ve heard my brother talk about it.”
“My boy,” said the old man, “was a most loving boy, very much attachedto his mother. I don’t believe he would leave her and his brother andsister. You never heard him mention his parents or family—did you?”
“This Charles Bell’s mother is dead. I never heard him speak of anybrother or sister.”
“How do you know his mother is dead?”
“Because, sir, he went to St. John’s two or three years ago, broughther body from there, and buried it on his place, under an elm tree—abeautiful spot. I’ve seen it a hundred times.”
The old man’s countenance fell. “It cannot be,” he said, “that mywife, with young children and small means, would leave England,and all her and my relations, and go to the colonies; and yet thetime, circumstances, and personal appearance of the young man tallyprecisely.”
“I know it’s your son,” said Walter; “nobody can make me believe itain’t. He looks as much like you as my two hands look alike, saving thedifference in age, and his voice is like yours.”
“Do you expect to come here again, captain?”
“Yes, if we get off clear this time, and can run the gantlet. You knowit is all luck and chance with us.”
“I can send a letter by you, and that will remove all doubts, andsettle the whole matter.”
“But I hoped you would feel sure enough to take passage with us. Youcan do better in the States than here.”
“I could not bear to go over there expecting to meet a son, and bedisappointed. I’m making a very good living here.”
“I think you’d better go.”
“Well, captain, I’ve about as much as I can carry at present, and amsomewhat confused. I will go about my regular business the rest of theday; that will steady my mind; and perhaps I may think of some questionthat this young man can answer, that will throw more light on thematter; and I will be on board again in the morning.”
Resisting all solicitations to stop to dinner, the old man departedwith his load.
“I know it’s his son,” said Walter, as they were eating dinner. “I feelit in my bones, and I think we ought to persuade him to go.”
“I have not much doubt,” replied the captain. “People are alwaysemigrating from England to St. John’s and Canada. Her relatives mighthave gone, and taken her with them. I shall persuade him in the morningto go, if I can.”
The second mate, who was a Marblehead man, and had listened to theconversation, now inquired, “Don’t all this crew belong right there?and wouldn’t they be likely to know more about it than Mr. Griffin?Most of them are much older than he is.”
“To be sure they would,” cried Walter. “There’s Danforth Eaton helpedclear Elm Island when Charlie Bell first came there; then there’sPeterson, and Enoch Hadlock,—what a ninny I was not to think of thatbefore he went away!—there’s not _one_ of them but knows more abouthis _first_ coming there than I do.”
Leaving his dinner, Walter ran forward, and soon returned, saying thatEaton knew all about it.
When John Bell came on board the next morning, he seemed calm,collected, and much more hopeful. Sending for Eaton, the captain saidto him, “Eaton, I want you to tell us all you know about Charles Bell’scoming to Elm Island, and about his parents, if you know or have heardanything about them, and I want you to begin at the bottom.”
“What I know, cap’n, isn’t hearsay, but I had it all from his own lips.”
“So much the better.”
“You see, cap’n, about that time there was some Tories come up from theprovinces—”
“We know,” said the captain, interrupting him, “how he got to theisland; but what we are most concerned to ascertain is, who his parentswere, and how he came into the hands of those pirates (for they were nobetter) who brought him to Elm Island. Can you tell us anything aboutthat?”
“Reckon I kin tell you all about it; but I must tell it in my own way.If you keep putting in and interrupting me, I shall get all mixed up.”
“Well, go on.”
“You see, arter this boy come on the island, Lion Ben he hires me andJoe Griffin, the next winter, to cut spars and clear land. Charlie Bellwas a little, slender, half-starved, pitiful-looking creatur’, then,but he was willing and clever, and soon begun to pick up. Most of thewinter he drove the team; but along in March, when it was bad hauling,he helped me chop. I tapped a maple, to have sap to drink while I waschopping. One day we comes into the woods arter dinner, and before wewent to work, sot down by the sap tree, in the sun. I sets on a stump,same as where that stool is, and he on another, same as where thatold gentleman is setting. I takes a good drink of the sap, and handsthe dipper to him; says I, ‘Charlie, tell me your history, or part ofit, like as you did Joe and Fred Williams.’ He didn’t want ter, but Icoaxed him. Then he said, the way his father come to be pressed, wasall through another man, th
at courted his mother when she was a gal,but she liked his father better; he couldn’t give her up, and allershild that old grudge agin his father. He said his father had agreed towork for the government, and if he had only got his name on the roll,couldn’t have been touched any more than if he had been a peer of thekingdom. This feller, I forget his name—” “Robert Rankin,” said thebasket-maker. “That’s it, old man, by jingo,—who thought, if he wasout of the way, he could get her, after all,—told the press-gang, andthey took him as he was on the road to the place where he would havebeen safe.”
The tears were streaming down John Bell’s cheeks, and his hands werelifted in gratitude to Heaven; but he would not interrupt Eaton by aquestion.
“He said, soon arter his father was gone, he was killed in an action,and his mother carried on the business for a while; but this fellerkept prosecutin’ her, and wantin’ her to have him, till she couldn’tstand it any longer. So she packed up everything, and went to St.John’s, where she had a brother; but when she got there, he’d goneto furrin parts, and she took sick and died. Then the boy, destituteand wandering about the streets and docks to pick up a living, fellinter the hands of them are reprobates, thinking they were honestfishermen, and went cook for them. The rest you say you know. Good as astory-book—ain’t it?”
“Eaton,” said the captain, sternly, “this is Mr. Bell’s father.”
“His _father_! Then he wasn’t killed. I didn’t dream of that, or Ishouldn’t have spoken like as I did. I see now he favors him.”
“Did he tell you,” asked the father, “what became of the otherchildren?”
“I axed him if there was any more of ‘em. He said his mother’srelations took ‘em.”
There was an oppressive pause in the conversation after Eaton had goneforward. John Bell sat with his handkerchief over his face, while theothers, respecting his emotions, were silent.
“No doubt, there can be none,” he said, at length, “that my poorwife is dead—God only knows what she suffered, in poverty and amongstrangers; that two of my children—whether alive or dead I knownot—are in England, and that the other is in America. I may yet see_him_. I ought to be thankful for that.”
“Your son, Mr. Bell,” said the captain, “is well to do; able to provideyou with every comfort; and, what is more, respected and beloved.”
“And he owns land?”
“Yes; six hundred acres.”
“That seems like a dream to me, for none of our folks ever owned a footof land. I always loved the earth, and loved to work on it, even whenit was the freehold of another. I feel there may yet be some happinessin store for me.”
“You are not an old man yet, Mr. Bell,” said the captain, “and goodnews and good spirits will make you ten years younger; so bring allyour things on board, and prepare to go with us, the first gale thatscatters the blockaders.”
“I don’t suppose there is any doubt now. I know there can’t be. Still,you know a person in my situation feels they can’t be too certain; andthere is just one thing more that has come to mind since I was here. Iwould like to ask of this young man whether he ever noticed any scar onmy son’s face.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Walter; “it is on his right jaw, and close to hisear,—runs up behind the ear, into his hair.”
“Then I’ll indulge no more in doubt. It would be ungrateful. Inever shall forget when he received the cut that made that scar, itfrightened me so. Though it was long ago, it seems but the other day.”
“How did it happen, Mr. Bell?” asked Walter.
“I suppose you never saw any basket rods growing?”
“No, sir.”
“In England, we plant them in rows, three feet apart, and as straightas an arrow. They grow seven or eight feet high, and make a nice placefor the children to play. I was cutting the sallies with a largeknife, as sharp as a razor. My little children, with their cousins,who had come to see them, were playing hide-and-seek among the rows,when Charlie ran in the way of my knife, and I cut a dreadful gash inhis cheek, that made that scar. And now I will leave you, and make mypreparations for the voyage.”
“Not till you have taken dinner with us,” said the captain; “and,Mr. Bell, I expect you to make the vessel your home, and sleep herewhenever it suits your convenience.”
“Thank you, captain. My quarters on shore are not so spacious orelegant that I should feel inclined to refuse so handsome and hearty anoffer.”
When the meal was concluded, Mr. Bell went on shore.
“Only see,” said Walter, looking after him, as he went up the pier,“how quick he steps, and how much straighter he is.”
“There’s a new heart in him,” said the captain. “He’s something to livefor and look forward to now. In a week’s time he’ll be another man. Asfar as I am concerned, I had rather carry _him_ home, than the richestcargo. And now, Mr. Griffin, run up and tell the good news to Ned.”
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