CHAPTER LIII
BRUNTSEA DEFIANT
Thus at last--by no direct exertion of my own, but by turn after turnof things to which I blindly gave my little help--the mystery of my lifewas solved. Many things yet remained to be fetched up to focus and seenround; but the point of points was settled.
Of all concerned, my father alone stood blameless and heroic. What tearsof shame and pride I shed, for ever having doubted him!--not doubtinghis innocence of the crime itself, but his motives for taking it uponhim. I had been mean enough to dream that my dear father outragedjustice to conceal his own base birth!
That ever such thought should have entered my mind may not make mecharitable to the wicked thoughts of the world at large, but, at anyrate, it ought to do so. And the man in question, my own father, whohad starved himself to save me! Better had I been the most illegal childever issued into this cold world, than dare to think so of my father,and then find him the model of every thing.
To hide the perjury, avarice, and cowardice of his father, and toappease the bitter wrong, he had even bowed to take the dark suspicionon himself, until his wronged and half-sane brother (to whom, moreover,he owed his life) should have time to fly from England. No doubt heblamed himself as much as he condemned the wretched criminal, becausehe had left his father so long unwarned and so unguarded, and hadthoughtlessly used light words about him, which fell not lightly on astern, distempered mind. Hence, perhaps, the exclamation which had toldagainst him so.
And then when he broke jail--which also told against him terribly--torevisit his shattered home, it is likely enough that he meant after thatto declare the truth, and stand his trial as a man should do. But hiswife, perhaps, in her poor weak state, could not endure the thought ofit, knowing how often jury is injury, and seeing all the weight againsthim. She naturally pledged him to pursue his flight, "for her sake,"until she should be better able to endure his trial, and until he shouldhave more than his own pure word and character to show. And probablyif he had then been tried, with so many things against him, and noproduction of that poor brother, his tale would have seemed but a flimsyinvention, and "Guilty" would have been the verdict. And they could notknow that, in such case, the guilty man would have come forward, as weshall see that he meant to do.
When my father heard of his dear wife's death, and believed, no doubt,that I was buried with the rest, the gloom of a broken and fated man,like polar night, settled down on him. What matter to him about publicopinion or any thing else in the world just now? The sins of his fatherwere on his head; let them rest there, rather than be trumpeted by him.He had nothing to care for; let him wander about. And so he did forseveral years, until I became a treasure to him--for parental is notintrinsic value--and then, for my sake, as now appeared, he betook usboth to a large kind land.
Revolving these things sadly, and a great many more which need not betold, I thought it my duty to go as soon as possible to Bruntsea, andtell my good and faithful friends what I was loath to write about.There, moreover, I could obtain what I wanted to confirm me--the opinionof an upright, law-abiding, honorable man about the course I proposedto take. And there I might hear something more as to a thing whichhad troubled me much in the deepest of my own troubles--the melancholyplight of dear Uncle Sam. Wild, and absurd as it may appear to people ofno gratitude, my heart was set upon faring forth in search of the nobleSawyer, if only it could be reconciled with my duty here in England.That such a proceeding would avail but little, seemed now, alas! toomanifest; but a plea of that kind generally means that we have no mindto do a thing.
Be that as it will, I made what my dear Yankees--to use the Major'simpertinent phrase--call "straight tracks" for that ancient and obsoletetown, rejuvenized now by its Signor. The cause of my good friend'ssilence--not to use that affected word "reticence"--was quite unknown tome, and disturbed my spirit with futile guesses.
Resolute, therefore, to pierce the bottom of every surviving mystery,I made claim upon "Mr. Stixon, junior"--as "Stixon's boy" had nowvindicated his right to be called, up to supper-time--and he with highchivalry responded. Not yet was he wedded to Miss Polly Hopkins, thedaughter of the pickled-pork man; otherwise would he or could he havemade telegraphic blush at the word "Bruntsea?" And would he have beenquite so eager to come?
Such things are trifling, compared to our own, which naturally fill theuniverse. I was bound to be a great lady now, and patronize and regulateand drill all the doings of nature. So I durst not even ask, thoughdesiring much to do so, how young Mr. Stixon was getting on with hisdelightful Polly. And his father, as soon as he found me turned intothe mistress, and "his lady" (as he would have me called thenceforth,whether or no on my part), not another word would he tell me of thehousehold sentiments, politics, or romances. It would have been thoughta thing beneath me to put any nice little questions now, and I wasobliged to take up the tone which others used toward me. But all thewhile I longed for freedom, Uncle Sam, Suan Isco, and even Martin of theMill.
Law business, however, and other hinderances, kept me from starting atonce for Bruntsea, impatient as I was to do so. Indeed, it was not untilthe morning of the last Saturday in November that I was able to getaway. The weather had turned to much rain, I remember, with two or threetempestuous nights, and the woods were almost bare of leaves, and theThames looked brown and violent.
In the fly from Newport to Bruntsea I heard great rollers thunderingheavily upon the steep bar of shingle, and such a lake of water shone inthe old bed of the river that I quite believed at first that the Majorhad carried out his grand idea, and brought the river back again. Butthe flyman shook his head, and looked very serious, and told me thathe feared bad times were coming. What I saw was the work of the Lord inheaven, and no man could prevail against it. He had always said, thoughno concern of his--for he belonged to Newport--that even a Britishofficer could not fly in the face of the Almighty. He himself had abrother on the works, regular employed, and drawing good money, andproud enough about it; and the times he had told him across a pint ofale--howsomever, our place was to hope for the best; but the top of thesprings was not come yet, and a pilot out of Newport told him the waterwas making uncommon strong; but he did hope the wind had nigh bloweditself out; if not, they would have to look blessed sharp tomorrow. Hehad heard say that in time of Queen Elizabeth sixscore of houses waswashed clean away, and the river itself knocked right into the sea; anda thing as had been once might just come to pass again, though folk wasall so clever now they thought they wor above it. But, for all that,their grandfathers' goggles might fit them. But here we was in Bruntseatown, and, bless his old eyes--yes! If I pleased to look along his whip,I might see ancient pilot come, he did believe, to warn of them!
Following his guidance, I descried a stout old man, in a sailor'sdress, weather-proof hat, and long boots, standing on a low seawall, andholding vehement converse with some Bruntsea boatmen and fishermen whowere sprawling on the stones as usual.
"Driver, you know him. Take the lower road," I said, "and ask what hisopinion is."
"No need to ask him," the flyman answered; "old Banks would neverbe here, miss, if he was of two opinions. He hath come to fetch hisdaughter out of harm, I doubt, the wife of that there Bishop Jim, theycall him--the chap with two nails to his thumb, you know. Would you liketo hear how they all take it, miss?"
With these words he turned to the right, and drove into Major Hockin's"Sea Parade." There we stopped to hear what was going on, and it provedto be well worth our attention. The old pilot perhaps had exhaustedreason, and now was beginning to give way to wrath. The afternoon wasdeepening fast, with heavy gray clouds lowering, showing no definiteedge, but streaked with hazy lines, and spotted by some little murkyblurs or blots, like tar pots, carried slowly.
"Hath Noah's Ark ever told a lie?" the ancient pilot shouted, pointingwith one hand at these, and with a clinched fist at the sea, whence camepuffs of sullen air, and turned his gray locks backward. "Mackerel skywhen the sun got up, mermaiden's eggs at noon, a
nd now afore sunsetNoah's Arks! Any of them breweth a gale of wind, and the three of thembodes a tempest. And the top of the springs of the year to-morrow.Are ye daft, or all gone upon the spree, my men? Your fathers would 'aknowed what the new moon meant. Is this all that cometh out of larningto read?"
"Have a pinch of 'bacco, old man," said one, "to help you off with thatstiff reel. What consarn can he be of yourn?"
"Don't you be put out, mate," cried another. "Never came sea as couldtop that bar, and never will in our time. Go and calk your old leakycraft, Master Banks."
"We have rode out a good many gales without seeking prophet fromNewport--a place never heerd on when this old town was made."
"Come and wet your old whistle at the 'Hockin Arms,' Banks. You mustwant it, after that long pipe."
"'Hockin Arms,' indeed!" the pilot answered, turning away in a rage fromthem. "What Hockin Arms will there be this time to-morrow? Hockin legswanted, more likely, and Hockin wings. And you poor grinning ninnies,as ought to have four legs, ye'll be praying that ye had them to-morrow.However, ye've had warning, and ye can't blame me. The power of the Lordis in the air and sea. Is this the sort of stuff ye trust in?"
He set one foot against our Major's wall--an action scarcely honestwhile it was so green--and, coming from a hale and very thickset man,the contemptuous push sent a fathom of it outward. Rattle, rattle wentthe new patent concrete, starting up the lazy-pated fellows down below.
"You'll try the walls of a jail," cried one. "You go to Noah's Ark,"shouted another. The rest bade him go to a place much worse; but hebuttoned his jacket in disdain, and marched away, without spoiling theeffect by any more weak words.
"Right you are," cried my flyman--"right you are, Master Banks. Themlubbers will sing another song to-morrow. Gee up, old hoss, then!"
All this, and the ominous scowl of the sky and menacing roar of the sea(already crowding with black rollers), disturbed me so that I couldsay nothing, until, at the corner of the grand new hotel, we met MajorHockin himself, attired in a workman's loose jacket, and carrying ashovel. He was covered with mud and dried flakes of froth, and even hisshort white whiskers were incrusted with sparkles of brine; but his facewas ruddy and smiling, and his manner as hearty as ever.
"You here, Erema! Oh, I beg pardon--Baroness Castlewood, if you please.My dear, again I congratulate you."
"You have as little cause to do that as I fear I can find in your case.You have no news for me from America? How sad! But what a poor plightyou yourself are in!"
"Not a bit of it. At first sight you might think so; and we certainlyhave had a very busy time. Send back the fly. Leave your bag at ourhotel. Porter, be quick with Lady Castlewood's luggage. One piece ofluck befalls me--to receive so often this beautiful hand. What a lot ofyoung fellows now would die of envy--"
"I am glad that you still can talk nonsense," I said; "for I truly wasfrightened at this great lake, and so many of your houses even standingin the water."
"It will do them good. It will settle the foundations and crystallizethe mortar. They will look twice as well when they come out again,and never have rats or black beetles. We were foolish enough to befrightened at first; and there may have been danger a fortnight ago. Butsince that tide we have worked day and night, and every thing is now sostable that fear is simply ridiculous. On the whole, it has been a mostexcellent thing--quite the making, in fact, of Bruntsea."
"Then Bruntsea must be made of water," I replied, gazing sadly at thegulf which parted us from the Sea Parade, the Lyceum, and Baths, theBastion Promenade, and so on; beyond all which the streaky turmoil andmisty scud of the waves were seen.
"Made of beer, more likely," he retorted, with a laugh. "If my fellowsworked like horses--which they did--they also drank like fishes. Theirmouths were so dry with the pickle, they said. But the total abstainerswere the worst, being out of practice with the can. However, let usmake no complaints. We ought to be truly thankful; and I shall missthe exercise. That is why you have heard so little from me. You see theposition at a glance. I have never been to Paris at all, Erema. I havenot rubbed up my parleywoo, with a blast from Mr. Bellows. I was stoppedby a telegram about this job--acrior illum. I had some Latin once, quiteenough for the House of Commons, but it all oozed out at my elbows; andto ladies (by some superstition) it is rude--though they treat us to badFrench enough. Never mind. What I want to say is this, that I have donenothing, but respected your sad trouble; for you took a wild fancy tothat poor bedridden, who never did you a stroke of good except aboutCosmopolitan Jack, and whose removal has come at the very nick of time.For what could you have done for money, with the Yankees cutting eachother's throats, and your nugget quite sure to be annexed, or, at thevery best, squared up in greenbacks?"
"You ought not to speak so, Major Hockin. If all your plans were notunder water, I should be quite put out with you. My cousin was notbedridden; neither was he at all incapable, as you have called him onceor twice. He was an infinitely superior man to--to what one generallysees; and when you have heard what I have to tell, in his placeyou would have done just as he did. And as for money, and 'happyrelease'--as the people who never want it for themselves expressit--such words simply sicken me; at great times they are so sordid."
"What is there in this world that is not sordid--to the young in onesense, and to the old in another?"
Major Hockin so seldom spoke in this didactic way, and I was so unableto make it out, that, having expected some tiff on his part at myjuvenile arrogance, I was just in the mould for a deep impression fromsudden stamp of philosophy. I had nothing to say in reply, and he wentup in my opinion greatly.
He knew it; and he said, with touching kindness, "Erema, come and seeyour dear aunt Mary. She has had an attack of rheumatic gout in herthimble-finger, and her maids have worried her out of her life, andby far the most brilliant of her cocks (worth 20 pounds they tell me)breathed his last on Sunday night, with gapes, or croup, or something.This is why you have not heard again from her. I have been in thetrenches day and night, stoning out the sea with his own stones, by anew form of concrete discovered by myself. And unless I am very muchmistaken--in fact, I do not hesitate to say--But such things are notin your line at all. Let us go up to the house. Our job is done, and Ithink Master Neptune may pound away in vain. I have got a new range inthe kitchen now, partly of my own invention; you can roast, or bake, orsteam, or stew, or frizzle kabobs--all by turning a screw. And not onlythat, but you can keep things hot, piping hot, and ripening, as it were,better than when they first were done. Instead of any burned iron taste,or scum on the gravy, or clottiness, they mellow by waiting, and maketheir own sauce. If I ever have time I shall patent this invention; why,you may burn brick-dust in it, Bath-brick, hearth-stone, or potsherds!At any hour of the day or night, while the sea is in this condition, Imay want my dinner; and there we have it. We say grace immediately,and down we sit. Let us take it by surprise, if it can be taken so. Upthrough my chief drive, instanter! I think that I scarcely ever feltmore hungry. The thought of that range always sets me off. And one ofits countless beauties is the noble juicy fragrance."
Major Hockin certainly possessed the art--so meritorious in a host--ofmaking people hungry; and we mounted the hill with alacrity, afterpassing his letter-box, which reminded me of the mysterious lady. Hepointed to "Desolate Hole," as he called it, and said that he believedshe was there still, though she never came out now to watch their house.And a man of dark and repelling aspect had been seen once or twice byhis workmen, during the time of their night relays, rapidly walkingtoward Desolate Hole. How any one could live in such a place, with theroar and the spray of the sea, as it had been, at the very door, andthrough the windows, some people might understand, but not the Major.
Good Mrs. Hockin received me with her usual warmth and kindness, andscolded me for having failed to write more to her, as all people seemto do when conscious of having neglected that duty themselves. Then sheshowed me her thimble-finger, which certainly was a little swollen;a
nd then she poured forth her gratitude for her many blessings, as shealways did after any little piece of grumbling. And I told her thatif at her age I were only a quarter as pleasant and sweet of temper, Ishould consider myself a blessing to any man.
After dinner my host produced the locket, which he had kept for thepurpose of showing it to the artist's son in Paris, and which he admiredso intensely that I wished it were mine to bestow on him. Then I toldhim that, through a thing wholly unexpected--the confession of thecriminal himself--no journey to Paris was needful now. I repeated thatstrange and gloomy tale, to the loud accompaniment of a rising wind androaring sea, while both my friends listened intently.
"Now what can have led him so to come to you?" they asked; "and what doyou mean to do about it?"
"He came to me, no doubt, to propose some bargain, which could not bemade in my cousin's lifetime. But the telling of his tale made him feelso strange that he really could not remember what it was. As to whatI am to do, I must beg for your opinion; such a case is beyond mydecision." Mrs. Hockin began to reply, but stopped, looking dutifully ather lord.
"There is no doubt what you are bound to do, at least in one way," theMajor said. "You are a British subject, I suppose, and you must obeythe laws of the country. A man has confessed to you a murder--no matterwhether it was committed twenty years ago or two minutes; no matterwhether it was a savage, cold-blooded, premeditated crime, or whetherthere were things to palliate it. Your course is the same; you must handhim over. In fact, you ought never to have let him go."
"How could I help it?" I pleaded, with surprise. "It was impossible forme to hold him."
"Then you should have shot him with his own pistol. He offered it toyou. You should have grasped it, pointed it at his heart, and told himthat he was a dead man if he stirred."
"Aunt Mary, would you have done that?" I asked. "It is so easy to talkof fine things! But in the first place, I had no wish to stop him; andin the next, I could not if I had."
"My dear," Mrs. Hockin replied, perceiving my distress at this view ofthe subject, "I should have done exactly what you did. If the lawsof this country ordain that women are to carry them out against greatstrong men, who, after all, have been sadly injured, why, it proves thatwomen ought to make the laws, which to my mind is simply ridiculous."