The Second Macabre MEGAPACK®. Эдит НесбитЧитать онлайн книгу.
springing to the poop, Drummond exclaimed, “cut that rope, let the ship drive on, there is fire in the privateer.”
His command was immediately obeyed; and, presently a stream of fire shot up from the deck of the foe; a cloud of smoke rose from its body, even to the top-masts; and a fearful crash so compressed the surrounding air, as to toss over the British vessel on its side; while as the black volumes dispersed, they could perceive that the place where the privateer laid was now empty and unoccupied, though masses of wreck floated all around on the heaving waters.
“Let us steer in the direction of the wreck, and rescue some of the crew if possible,” commanded the captain of the second mate; but before the Schooner could reach the spot, the struggling sailors, had all disappeared, except one, who still combatted with the waves.
“He lives! yonder is the Captain of the Privateer!” and as Drummond looked in the same direction, and gazed on the face of the drowning man as the waves closed over him, he shrieked aloud, “Oh, my God!’ my God! Let down a boat! Save him! it is no other than—;” and unable to articulate another word, he was obliged to lean against the side of the vessel, while several sailors immediately obeyed his orders, though without success, since the body had sunk to rise no more. Hardly in a situation to extend any directions to his crew, with tottering steps, Drummond reached the cabin; whereat throwing himself on a chair, he covered his face with his hands, as if to banish the fearful remembrance. “No! it is impossible! It could not have been John. My beloved brother would not have directed his cannon against the flag of old England. And yet that face was so like his. Gracious heavens! what am I to think?” then rising quickly, he paced up and down the apartment, muttering aloud. “No! I feel certain that I am mistaken. It must have been someone who greatly resembled him. How could I determine in that momentary glance.” And thus he sought to quiet his dark forebodings, till on the next day, they arrived in sight of Long Island.
On reaching New York, Drummond made enquiries in every direction, to discover who was the captain of “Gray Shark;” and though the information was very uncertain, he learned one fact which somewhat quieted his restless spirit, namely, that he was an Englishman by the name of John Walker. Soon, however, fresh doubts tormented him; for what was more natural than that his brother should change his name in taking part with the rebels, since as an American, if he could sustain that disguise, he would be treated less severely if taken prisoner. With his feelings wound up to the highest pitch, William determined to resort to the last expedient for discovering the truth, and accordingly wrote to the house in Boston, with whom John had entered into the contract as Captain. What was his disappointment, when on the subsequent day, he was summoned to appear before Admiral Howe, who informed him, that he wished him to sail immediately for England. “A committee of Congress,” said he, “consisting of Franklin, John Adams and Edward Rutledge, have presented themselves before me to offer a treaty, which they believe will prove advantageous to both countries, I must however have instructions, and full power for acting, and as your ship is a quick sailer, I trust to see you back in three months, or at the least ten weeks. You will receive your despatches in the course of two hours.”
Although Drummond was gratified by the duty assigned him, as well as by a hint from one of Lord Howe’s adjutants, that the Admiral had recommended him to the British ministers for promotion, yet to depart before receiving an answer from Boston, was most distressing. He felt hardly able to endure the long months of agonizing uncertainty. Day and night, yes, even in his dreams, the pale, deadly face of the drowning seaman rose before him; and it was well that the anxieties attendant on a stormy passage, somewhat detached his mind from the one absorbing fear.
On reaching London, he learned that the business on which he had been sent, could not be determined in less than ten days; and taking advantage of the time, he hastened to Wales, and reached his native village on the midnight of the second day. A beautiful moonlight shone on the traveller, as he rode rapidly along the avenue of fruit trees leading to the parsonage, but what was his surprise, when on stopping at the gate, he discovered a large and newly built house, standing in the midst of the shrubbery, while the mansion, where he was born, was already unroofed, the sashes taken out, and the whole apparently about to be pulled to pieces.
Overcome by varied emotions, William now dismounted from his horse, relieved him of his saddle, and passing through a side gate, which was only fastened by a button, led the animal into the stable, then entering the garden, he roamed up and down its narrow walks, yielding to the remembrances of his boyhood, and quite undetermined whether to arouse his parent or not. “It is almost a pity to disturb them at this untimely hour,” he said; “in a short time dawn will break, and the night is so calm and beautiful that I can sleep here as well as at the foot of the mast.” With these words, he took his seat on the stone bench beneath the ancient yew trees and was soon fast asleep.
He might have slumbered a half hour, when he was aroused by a dream, and on opening his eyes, what was his surprise to see a lady seated on the bench beside him. On looking at her, he perceived that she was about forty years of age; and although her face was very pale and rather expressionless, yet she was by no means unhandsome.
Supposing her some acquaintance of his parents, then on a visit at their house, who had been probably induced by the summer temperature to enjoy the cool air of the garden, he politely observed, “You are perhaps surprised, Madam, to find a stranger intruding here at this time.”
“No!” was her brief reply.
“I am William Drummond. Do my parents expect me?” was his next question.
“I know it. They do.”
“Have you been long here?
“Yes! a long while.”
“I am astonished that my father never mentioned you in his letters.”
“Perhaps he did.”
“And I am also greatly delighted to find this comfortable new residence so superior to the old.”
“I reside in the old.”
“Indeed, why it seems almost pulled down.”
“At least I will remain in it as long as it stands.”
The young man was rather unpleasantly affected by the stranger’s brief, unceremonious manner, but anxious to learn further, he observed, “excuse me, Madam, if I inquire whether my father has learned through the papers, or any other way, the news of a conflict between my vessel, the “Vulture,” and an American privateer? I am exceedingly anxious to learn the name of the man who commanded the latter.”
“He will know all tomorrow,” observed the woman in a hollow tone. “The Captain’s name was John Drummond.”
“Gracious Heavens! are you sure of it?” cried William, springing up; but ere he could utter another word, the figure had vanished away. “Am I awake or dreaming,” he continued after a long pause, during which he looked wildly around him,” and yet all is so real; so life-like! What if I am losing my senses?. Surely I was not asleep! My mind seemed as awake as at this moment,” and with such doubts he tormented himself, till at daydawn he heard a window unbolted, and rushing into the house, was soon clasped in the arms of his delighted, but trembling parents.
After several enquiries, William ventured to ask when they had last heard from his brother, and a hundred weight seemed to fall from his breast, on being informed that his last letter, dated from Boston, mentioned that he had taken command of a vessel about to sail for the Southern ocean, and that they must feel no uneasiness, should they hear nothing for a long period.
Mrs. Drummond now turned the conversation to their new residence, which she described as being most convenient in every respect; adding, that the old parsonage was to be pulled down in a few days.
“Dear Mother! was it not a strange notion to let it out to a lodger!” asked her son, immediately recalling his midnight companion.
“I know of no lodgers but the mice, which I trust will not follow me into my new home, by reason of hammering in the old.”
“No! no! I mean the lady whom I met last night sitting under the Yew-tree, and