CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.
Scarcely had the soldiers performed their task, and thrown down theirshovels, when they commenced an altercation. It appeared that thismoney was to be again the cause of slaughter and bloodshed. Philip andKrantz determined to sail immediately in one of the peroquas, and leavethem to settle their disputes as they pleased. He asked permission ofthe soldiers to take from the provisions and water, of which there wasample supply, a larger proportion than was their share; stating, that heand Krantz had a long voyage and would require it, and pointing out tothem that there were plenty of cocoa-nuts for their support. Thesoldiers, who thought of nothing but their newly-acquired wealth allowedhim to do as he pleased; and, having hastily collected as manycocoa-nuts as they could, to add to their stock of provisions, beforenoon, Philip and Krantz had embarked and made sail in the peroqua,leaving the soldiers with their knives again drawn, and so busy in theirangry altercation as to be heedless of their departure.
"There will be the same scene over again, I expect," observed Krantz, asthe vessel parted swiftly from the shore.
"I have little doubt of it; observe, even now they are at blows andstabs."
"If I were to name that spot, it should be the `_Accursed Isle_.'"
"Would not any other be the same, with so much to inflame the passionsof men?"
"Assuredly: what a curse is gold!"
"And what a blessing!" replied Krantz. "I am sorry Pedro is left withthem."
"It is their destiny," replied Philip; "so let's think no more of them.Now what do you propose? With this vessel, small as she is, we may sailover these seas in safety, and we have, I imagine, provisions sufficientfor more than a month."
"My idea is, to run into the track of the vessels going to the westward,and obtain a passage to Goa."
"And if we do not meet with any, we can, at all events, proceed up theStraits, as far as Pulo Penang without risk. There we may safely remainuntil a vessel passes."
"I agree with you; it is our best, nay our only, place; unless, indeed,we were to proceed to Cochin, where junks are always leaving for Goa."
"But that would be out of our way, and the junks cannot well pass us inthe Straits, without their being seen by us."
They had no difficulty in steering their course; the islands by day, andthe clear stars by night, were their compass. It is true that they didnot follow the more direct track, but they followed the more secure,working up the smooth waters, and gaining to the northward more than tothe west. Many times they were chased by the Malay proas which infestedthe islands, but the swiftness of their little peroqua was theirsecurity; indeed, the chase was, generally speaking, abandoned as soonas the smallness of the vessel was made out by the pirates, who expectedthat little or no booty was to be gained.
That Amine and Philip's mission was the constant theme of theirdiscourse, may easily be imagined. One morning, as they were sailingbetween the isles, with less wind than usual, Philip observed:
"Krantz, you said that there were events in your own life, or connectedwith it, which would corroborate the mysterious tale I confided to you.Will you now tell me to what you referred?"
"Certainly," replied Krantz; "I've often thought of doing so, but onecircumstance or another has hitherto prevented me; this is, however, afitting opportunity. Prepare, therefore, to listen to a strange story,quite as strange, perhaps, as your own:--
"I take it for granted, that you have heard people speak of the HartzMountains," observed Krantz.
"I have never heard people speak of them, that I can recollect," repliedPhilip; "but I have read of them in some book, and of the strange thingswhich have occurred there."
"It is indeed a wild region," rejoined Krantz, "and many strange talesare told of it; but strange as they are, I have good reason forbelieving them to be true. I have told you, Philip, that I fullybelieve in your communion with the other world--that I credit thehistory of your father, and the lawfulness of your mission; for that weare surrounded, impelled, and worked upon by beings different in theirnature from ourselves, I have had full evidence, as you willacknowledge, when I state what has occurred in my own family. Why suchmalevolent beings as I am about to speak of should be permitted tointerfere with us, and punish, I may say, comparatively unoffendingmortals, is beyond my comprehension; but that they are so permitted ismost certain."
"The great principle of all evil fulfils his work of evil; why, then,not the other minor spirits of the same class?" inquired Philip. "Whatmatters it to us, whether we are tried by, and have to suffer from, theenmity of our fellow-mortals, or whether we are persecuted by beingsmore powerful and more malevolent than ourselves? We know that we haveto work out our salvation, and that we shall be judged according to ourstrength; if then there be evil spirits who delight to oppress man,there surely must be, as Amine asserts, good spirits, whose delight isto do him service. Whether, then, we have to struggle against ourpassions only, or whether we have to struggle not only against ourpassions, but also the dire influence of unseen enemies we ever strugglewith the same odds in our favour, as the good are stronger than the evilwhich we combat. In either case we are on the 'vantage ground, whether,as in the first, we fight the good cause single-handed, or as in thesecond, although opposed, we have the host of Heaven ranged on our side.Thus are the scales of Divine justice evenly balanced, and man is stilla free agent, as his own virtuous or vicious propensities must everdecide whether he shall gain or lose the victory."
"Most true," replied Krantz, "and now to my history:--
"My father was not born, or originally a resident, in the HartzMountains; he was the serf of an Hungarian nobleman, of greatpossessions, in Transylvania; but, although a serf, he was not by anymeans a poor or illiterate man. In fact, he was rich and hisintelligence and respectability were such, that he had been raised byhis lord to the stewardship; but, whoever may happen to be born a serf,a serf must he remain, even though he become a wealthy man: and such wasthe condition of my father. My father had been married for about fiveyears; and by his marriage had three children--my eldest brother Caesar,myself (Hermann), and a sister named Marcella. You know, Philip, thatLatin is still the language spoken in that country; and that willaccount for our high-sounding names. My mother was a very beautifulwoman, unfortunately more beautiful than virtuous: she was seen andadmired by the lord of the soil; my father was sent away upon somemission; and, during his absence, my mother, flattered by theattentions, and won by the assiduities, of this nobleman yielded to hiswishes. It so happened that my father returned very unexpectedly, anddiscovered the intrigue. The evidence of my mother's shame waspositive; he surprised her in the company of her seducer! Carried awayby the impetuosity of his feelings, he watched the opportunity of ameeting taking place between them, and murdered both his wife and herseducer. Conscious that, as a serf, not even the provocation which hehad received would be allowed as a justification of his conduct hehastily collected together what money he could lay his hands upon, and,as we were then in the depth of winter, he put his horses to the sleigh,and taking his children with him, he set off in the middle of the night,and was far away before the tragical circumstance had transpired. Awarethat he would be pursued, and that he had no chance of escape if heremained in any portion of his native country (in which the authoritiescould lay hold of him), he continued his flight without intermissionuntil he had buried himself in the intricacies and seclusion of theHartz Mountains. Of course, all that I have now told you I learnedafterwards. My oldest recollections are knit to a rude, yet comfortablecottage, in which I lived with my father, brother, and sister. It wason the confines of one of those vast forests which cover the northernpart of Germany; around it were a few acres of ground, which, during thesummer months, my father cultivated, and which, though they yielded adoubtful harvest, were sufficient for our support. In the winter weremained much in doors, for, as my father followed the chase, we wereleft alone, and the wolves, during that season, incessantly prowledabout. My father had p
urchased the cottage, and land about it of one ofthe rude foresters, who gain their livelihood partly by hunting, andpartly by burning charcoal, for the purpose of smelting the ore from theneighbouring mines; it was distant about two miles from any otherhabitation. I can call to mind the whole landscape now: the tall pineswhich rose up on the mountain above us, and the wide expanse of forestbeneath, on the topmost boughs and heads of whose trees we looked downfrom our cottage, as the mountain below us rapidly descended into thedistant valley. In summer-time the prospect was beautiful: but duringthe severe winter, a more desolate scene could not well be imagined.
"I said that, in the winter, my father occupied himself with the chase;every day he left us, and often would he lock the door, that we mightnot leave the cottage. He had no one to assist him, or to take care ofus--indeed, it was not easy to find a female servant who would live insuch a solitude; but could he have found one, my father would nut havereceived her, for he had imbibed a horror of the sex, as the differenceof his conduct towards us, his two boys, and my poor little sister,Marcella evidently proved. You may suppose we were sadly neglected;indeed, we suffered much, for my father, fearful that we might come tosome harm, would not allow us fuel, when he left the cottage; and wewere obliged, therefore, to creep under the heaps of bears' skins, andthere to keep ourselves as warm as we could until he returned in theevening, when a blazing fire was our delight. That my father chose thisrestless sort of life may appear strange, but the fact was, that hecould not remain quiet; whether from the remorse for having committedmurder, or from the misery consequent on his change of situation, orfrom both combined, he was never happy unless he was in a state ofactivity. Children, however, when left much to themselves, acquire athoughtfulness not common to their age. So it was with us; and duringthe short cold days of winter, we would sit silent, longing for thehappy hours when the snow would melt and the leaves would burst out, andthe birds begin their songs, and when we should again be set at liberty.
"Such was our peculiar and savage sort of life until my brother Caesarwas nine, myself seven, and my sister five years old, when thecircumstances occurred on which is based the extraordinary narrativewhich I am about to relate.
"One evening my father returned home rather later than usual; he hadbeen unsuccessful, and, as the weather was very severe, and many feet ofsnow were upon the ground, he was not only very cold, but in a very badhumour. He had brought in wood, and we were all three gladly assistingeach other in blowing on the embers to create the blaze, when he caughtpoor little Marcella by the arm and threw her aside; the child fell,struck her mouth, and bled very much. My brother ran to raise her up.Accustomed to ill-usage and afraid of my father, she did not dare tocry, but looked up in his face very piteously. My father drew his stoolnearer to the hearth, muttered something in abuse of women, and busiedhimself with the fire, which both my brother and I had deserted when mysister was so unkindly treated. A cheerful blaze was soon the result ofhis exertions; but we did not, as usual, crowd round it. Marcella,still bleeding, retired to a corner, and my brother and I took our seatsbeside her, while my father hung over the fire gloomily and alone. Suchhad been our position for about half an hour, when the howl of a wolf,close under the window of the cottage, fell on our ears. My fatherstarted up, and seized his gun: the howl was repeated, he examined thepriming, and then hastily left the cottage, shutting the door after him.We all waited (anxiously listening), for we thought that if hesucceeded in shooting the wolf, he would return in a better humour; and,although he was harsh to all of us, and particularly so to our littlesister, still we loved our father, and loved to see him cheerful andhappy, for what else had we to look up to? And I may here observe, thatperhaps there never were three children who were fonder of each other;we did not, like other children, fight and dispute together; and if, bychance, any disagreement did arise between my elder brother and me,little Marcella would run to us, and kissing us both, seal, through herentreaties, the peace between us. Marcella was a lovely, amiable child;I can recall her beautiful features even now--Alas! poor littleMarcella."
"She is dead, then?" observed Philip.
"Dead! yes, dead!--but how did she die?--But I must not anticipate,Philip; let me tell my story.
"We waited or some time, but the report of the gun did not reach us, andmy elder brother then said, `Our father has followed the wolf, and willnot be back for some time. Marcella, let us wash the blood from yourmouth, and then we will leave this corner, and go to the fire and warmourselves.'
"We did so, and remained there until near midnight, every minutewondering, as it grew later, why our father did not return. We had noidea that he was in any danger, but we thought that he must have chasedthe wolf for a very long time. `I will look out and see if father iscoming,' said my brother Caesar, going to the door. `Take care,' saidMarcella, `the wolves must be about now, and we cannot kill them,brother.' My brother opened the door very cautiously, and but a fewinches: he peeped out.--`I see nothing,' said he, after a time, and oncemore he joined us at the fire. `We have had no supper,' said I, for myfather usually cooked the meat as soon as he came home; and during hisabsence we had nothing but the fragments of the preceding day.
"`And if our father comes home after his hunt, Caesar,' said Marcella,`he will be pleased to have some supper; let us cook it for him and forourselves.' Caesar climbed upon the stool, and reached down some meat--I forget now whether it was venison or bear's meat; but we cut off theusual quantity, and proceeded to dress it, as we used to do under ourfather's superintendence. We were all busy putting it into the plattersbefore the fire, to await his coming, when we heard the sound of a horn.We listened--there was a noise outside, and a minute afterwards myfather entered, ushering in a young female, and a large dark man in ahunter's dress.
"Perhaps I had better now relate what was only known to me many yearsafterwards. When my father had left the cottage, he perceived a largewhite wolf about thirty yards from him; as soon as the animal saw myfather, it retreated slowly growling and snarling. My father followed;the animal did not run, but always kept at some distance; and my fatherdid not like to fire until he was pretty certain that his ball wouldtake effect; thus they went on for some time, the wolf now leaving myfather far behind, and then stopping and snarling defiance at him, andthen, again, on his approach, setting off at speed.
"Anxious to shoot the animal (for the white wolf is very rare) my fathercontinued the pursuit for several hours, during which he continuallyascended the mountain.
"You must know, Philip, that there are peculiar spots on those mountainswhich are supposed, and, as my story will prove, truly supposed, to beinhabited by the evil influences: they are well known to the huntsmen,who invariably avoid them. Now, one of these spots, an open space inthe pine forests above us, had been pointed out to my father asdangerous on that account. But, whether he disbelieved these wildstories or whether, in his eager pursuit of the chase, he disregardedthem, I know not; certain, however, it is, that he was decoyed by thewhite wolf to this open space, when the animal appeared to slacken herspeed. My father approached, came close up to her, raised his gun tohis shoulder, and was about to fire, when the wolf suddenly disappeared.He thought that the snow on the ground must have dazzled his sight, andhe let down his gun to look for the beast--but she was gone; how shecould have escaped over the clearance, without his seeing her, wasbeyond his comprehension. Mortified at the ill success of his chase, hewas about to retrace his steps, when he heard the distant sound of ahorn. Astonishment at such a sound--at such an hour--in such awilderness, made him forget for the moment his disappointment, and heremained riveted to the spot. In a minute the horn was blown a secondtime, and at no great distance; my father stood still, and listened: athird time it was blown. I forget the term used to express it, but itwas the signal which, my father well knew, implied that the party waslost in the woods. In a few minutes more my father beheld a man onhorseback, with a female seated on the crupper, enter the cleared space,and ride
up to him. At first, my father called to mind the strangestories which he had heard of the supernatural beings who were said tofrequent these mountains; but the nearer approach of the partiessatisfied him that they were mortals like himself. As soon as they cameup to him, the man who guided the horse accosted him. `Friend Hunter,you are out late, the better fortune for us; we have ridden far, and arein fear of our lives which are eagerly sought after. These mountainshave enabled us to elude our pursuers; but if we find not shelter andrefreshment, that will avail us little, as we must perish from hungerand the inclemency of the night. My daughter, who rides behind me, isnow more dead than alive--say, can you assist us in our difficulty?'
"`My cottage is some few miles distant,' replied my father, `but I havelittle to offer you besides a shelter from the weather; to the little Ihave you are welcome. May I ask whence you come?'
"`Yes, friend, it is no secret now; we have escaped from Transylvania,where my daughter's honour and my life were equally in jeopardy!'
"This information was quite enough to raise an interest in my father'sheart, he remembered his own escape; he remembered the loss of hiswife's honour, and the tragedy by which it was wound up. Heimmediately, and warmly, offered all the assistance which he couldafford them.
"`There is no time to be lost then, good sir,' observed the horseman;`my daughter is chilled with the frost, and cannot hold out much longeragainst the severity of the weather.'
"`Follow me,' replied my father, leading the way towards his home.
"`I was lured away in pursuit of a large white wolf,' observed myfather; `it came to the very window of my hut, or I should not have beenout at this time of night.'
"`The creature passed by us just as we came out of the wood,' said thefemale, in a silvery tone.
"`I was nearly discharging my piece at it,' observed the hunter; `butsince it did us such good service, I am glad I allowed it to escape.'
"In about an hour and a half, during which my father walked at a rapidpace, the party arrived at the cottage, and, as I said before, came in.
"`We are in good time, apparently,' observed the dark hunter, catchingthe smell of the roasted meat, as he walked to the fire and surveyed mybrother and sister, and myself. `You have young cooks here, Meinheer.'`I am glad that we shall not have to wait,' replied my father. `Come,mistress, seat yourself by the fire; you require warmth after your coldride.' `And where can I put up my horse, Meinheer?' observed thehuntsman. `I will take care of him,' replied my father, going out ofthe cottage door.
"The female must, however, be particularly described. She was young,and apparently twenty years of age. She was dressed in atravelling-dress, deeply bordered with white fur, and wore a cap ofwhite ermine on her head. Her features were very beautiful, at least Ithought so, and so my father has since declared. Her hair was flaxen,glossy, and shining, and bright as a mirror; and her mouth, althoughsomewhat large when it was open, showed the most brilliant teeth I haveever beheld. But there was something about her eyes, bright as theywere, which made us children afraid; they were so restless, so furtive;I could not at that time tell why, but I felt as if there was cruelty inher eye; and when she beckoned us to come to her, we approached her withfear and trembling. Still she was beautiful, very beautiful. She spokekindly to my brother and myself, patted our heads and caressed us; butMarcella would not come near her; on the contrary, she slunk away, andhid herself in the bed, and would not wait for the supper, which half anhour before she had been so anxious for.
"My father, having put the horse into a close shed, soon returned, andsupper was placed upon the table. When it was over, my father requestedthat the young lady would take possession of his bed, and he wouldremain at the fire, and sit up with her father. After some hesitationon her part, this arrangement was agreed to, and I and my brother creptinto the other bed with Marcella, for we had as yet always slepttogether.
"But we could not sleep; there was something so unusual, not only inseeing strange people, but in having those people sleep at the cottage,that we were bewildered. As for poor little Marcella, she was quiet,but I perceived that she trembled during the whole night, and sometimesI thought that she was checking a sob. My father had brought out somespirits, which he rarely used, and he and the strange hunter remaineddrinking and talking before the fire. Our ears were ready to catch theslightest whisper--so much was our curiosity excited.
"`You said you came from Transylvania?' observed my father.
"`Even so, Meinheer,' replied the hunter. `I was a serf to the noblehouse of ---; my master would insist upon my surrendering up my fairgirl to his wishes: it ended in my giving him a few inches of myhunting-knife.'
"`We are countrymen, and brothers in misfortune,' replied my father,taking the huntsman's hand, and pressing it warmly.
"`Indeed! Are you then from that country?'
"`Yes; and I too have fled for my life. But mine is a melancholy tale.'
"`Your name?' inquired the hunter.
"`Krantz.'
"`What! Krantz of ---? I have heard your tale; you need not renew yourgrief by repeating it now. Welcome, most welcome, Meinheer, and, I maysay, my worthy kinsman. I am your second cousin, Wilfred of Barnsdorf,'cried the hunter, rising up and embracing my father.
"They filled their horn-mugs to the brim, and drank to one another afterthe German fashion. The conversation was then carried on in a low tone;all that we could collect from it was that our new relative and hisdaughter were to take up their abode in our cottage, at least for thepresent. In about an hour they both fell back in their chairs andappeared to sleep.
"`Marcella, dear, did you hear?' said my brother, in a low tone.
"`Yes,' replied Marcella in a whisper, `I heard all. Oh! brother, Icannot bear to look upon that woman--I feel so frightened.'
"My brother made no reply, and shortly afterwards we were all three fastasleep.
"When we awoke the next morning, we found that the hunter's daughter hadrisen before us. I thought she looked more beautiful than ever. Shecame up to little Marcella and caressed her: the child burst into tears,and sobbed as if her heart would break.
"But, not to detain you with too long a story, the huntsman and hisdaughter were accommodated in the cottage. My father and he went outhunting daily, leaving Christina with us. She performed all thehousehold duties; was very kind to us children; and, gradually, thedislike even of little Marcella wore away. But a great change tookplace in my father; he appeared to have conquered his aversion to thesex, and was most attentive to Christina. Often, after her father andwe were in bed would he sit up with her, conversing in a low tone by thefire. I ought to have mentioned that my father and the huntsmanWilfred, slept in another portion of the cottage, and that the bed whichhe formerly occupied, and which was in the same room as ours, had beengiven up to the use of Christina. These visitors had been about threeweeks at the cottage, when, one night, after we children had been sentto bed, a consultation was held. My father had asked Christina inmarriage, and had obtained both her own consent and that of Wilfred;after this, a conversation took place, which was, as nearly as I canrecollect, as follows.
"`You may take my child, Meinheer Krantz, and my blessing with her, andI shall then leave you and seek some other habitation--it matters littlewhere.'
"`Why not remain here, Wilfred?'
"`No, no, I am called elsewhere; let that suffice, and ask no morequestions. You have my child.'
"`I thank you for her, and will duly value her; but there is onedifficulty.'
"`I know what you would say; there is no priest here in this wildcountry: true; neither is there any law to bind; still must someceremony pass between you, to satisfy a father. Will you consent tomarry her after my fashion? if so, I will marry you directly.'
"`I will,' replied my father.
"`Then take her by the hand. Now, Meinheer, swear.'
"`I swear,' repeated my father.
"`By all the spirits of the Hartz mountains--'
/>
"`Nay, why not by Heaven?' interrupted my father.
"`Because it is not my humour,' rejoined Wilfred; `if I prefer thatoath, less binding perhaps, than another, surely you will not thwartme.'
"`Well be it so then; have your humour. Will you make me swear by thatin which I do not believe?'
"`Yet many do so, who in outward appearance are Christians,' rejoinedWilfred; `say, will you be married, or shall I take my daughter awaywith me?'
"`Proceed,' replied my father, impatiently.
"`I swear by all the spirits of the Hartz mountains, by all their powerfor good or for evil, that I take Christina for my wedded wife; that Iwill ever protect her, cherish her, and love her; that my hand shallnever be raised against her to harm her.'
"My father repeated the words after Wilfred.
"`And if I fail in this my vow, may all the vengeance of the spiritsfall upon me and upon my children; may they perish by the vulture, bythe wolf, or other beasts of the forest; may their flesh be torn fromtheir limbs, and their bones blanch in the wilderness: all this Iswear.'
"My father hesitated, as he repeated the last words; little Marcellacould not restrain herself, and as my father repeated the last sentence,she burst into tears. This sudden interruption appeared to discomposethe party, particularly my father; he spoke harshly to the child, whocontrolled her sobs, burying her face under the bed-clothes.
"Such was the second marriage of my father. The next morning, thehunter Wilfred mounted his horse, and rode away.
"My father resumed his bed, which was in the same room as ours; andthings went on much as before the marriage, except that our newmother-in-law did not show any kindness towards us; indeed during myfather's absence, she would often beat us, particularly little Marcella,and her eyes would flash fire, as she looked eagerly upon the fair andlovely child.
"One night, my sister awoke me and my brother.
"`What is the matter?' said Caesar.
"`She has gone out,' whispered Marcella.
"`Gone out!'
"`Yes, gone out at the door, in her night-clothes,' replied the child;`I saw her get out of bed, look at my father to see if he slept, andthen she went out at the door.'
"What could induce her to leave her bed, and all undressed to go out, insuch bitter wintry weather, with the snow deep on the ground was to usincomprehensible; we lay awake, and in about an hour we heard the growlof a wolf, close under the window.
"`There is a wolf,' said Caesar. `She will be torn to pieces.'
"`Oh no!' cried Marcella.
"In a few minutes afterwards our mother-in-law appeared; she was in hernight-dress, as Marcella had stated. She let down the latch of thedoor, so as to make no noise, went to a pail of water, and washed herface and hands, and then slipped into the bed where my father lay.
"We all three trembled--we hardly knew why; but we resolved to watch thenext night: we did so; and not only on the ensuing night, but on manyothers, and always at about the same hour, would our mother-in-law risefrom her bed and leave the cottage; and after she was gone we invariablyheard the growl of a wolf under our window, and always saw her, on herreturn, wash herself before she retired to bed. We observed also thatshe seldom sat down to meals, and that when she did she appeared to eatwith dislike; but when the meat was taken down to be prepared fordinner, she would often furtively put a raw piece into her mouth.
"My brother Caesar was a courageous boy; he did not like to speak to myfather until he knew more. He resolved that he would follow her out,and ascertain what she did. Marcella and I endeavoured to dissuade himfrom this project; but he would not be controlled; and the very nextnight he lay down in his clothes, and as soon as our mother-in-law hadleft the cottage he jumped up, took down my father's gun, and followedher.
"You may imagine in what a state of suspense Marcella and I remainedduring his absence. After a few minutes we heard the report of a gun.It did not awaken my father; and we lay trembling with anxiety. In aminute afterwards we saw our mother-in-law enter the cottage--her dresswas bloody. I put my hand to Marcella's mouth to prevent her cryingout, although I was myself in great alarm. Our mother-in-law approachedmy father's bed, looked to see if he was asleep, and then went to thechimney and blew up the embers into a blaze.
"`Who is there?' said my father, waking up.
"`Lie still, dearest,' replied my mother-in-law; `it is only me; I havelighted the fire to warm some water; I am not quite well.'
"My father turned round, and was soon asleep; but we hatched ourmother-in-law. She changed her linen, and threw the garments she hadworn into the fire; and we then perceived that her right leg wasbleeding profusely, as if from a gun-shot wound. She bandaged it up,and then dressing herself, remained before the fire until the break ofday.
"Poor little Marcella, her heart beat quick as she pressed me to herside--so indeed did mine. Where was our brother Caesar? How did mymother-in-law receive the wound unless from his gun? At last my fatherrose, and then for the first time I spoke, saying, `Father, where is mybrother Caesar?'
"`Your brother!' exclaimed he; `why, where can he be?'
"`Merciful Heaven! I thought, as lay very restless last night,'observed our mother-in-law, `that I heard somebody open the latch of thedoor; and, dear me, husband, what has become of your gun?'
"My father cast his eyes up above the chimney, and perceived that hisgun was missing. For a moment he looked perplexed; then, seizing abroad axe, he went out of the cottage without saying another word.
"He did not remain away from us long; in a few minutes he returned,bearing in his arms the mangled body of my poor brother; he laid itdown, and covered up his face.
"My mother-in-law rose up, and looked at the body, while Marcella and Ithrew ourselves by its side, wailing and sobbing bitterly.
"`Go to bed again, children,' said she, sharply. `Husband,' continuedshe, `your boy must have taken the gun down, to shoot a wolf, and theanimal has been too powerful for him. Poor boy! he has paid dearly forhis rashness.'
"My father made no reply. I wished to speak--to tell all--but Marcellawho perceived my intention, held me by the arm, and looked at me soimploringly, that I desisted.
"My father, therefore, was left in his error; but Marcella and I,although we could not comprehend it, were conscious that ourmother-in-law was in some way connected with my brother's death.
"That day my father went out and dug a grave; and when he hid the bodyin the earth, he piled up stones over it so that the wolves should notbe able to dig it up. The shock of this catastrophe was to my poorfather very severe; for several days he never went to the chase,although at times he would utter bitter anathemas and vengeance againstthe wolves.
"But during this time of mourning on his part, my mother-in-law'snocturnal wanderings continued with the same regularity as before.
"At last my father took down his gun to repair to the forest; but hesoon returned, and appeared much annoyed.
"`Would you believe it, Christina, that the wolves--perdition to thewhole race--have actually contrived to dig up the body of my poor boy,and now there is nothing left of him but his bones?'
"`Indeed!' replied my mother-in-law. Marcella looked at me; and I sawin her intelligent eye all she would have uttered.
"`A wolf growls under our window every night, father,' said I.
"`Ay, indeed! Why did you not tell me, boy? Wake me the next time youhear it.'
"I saw my mother-in-law turn away; her eyes flashed fire, and shegnashed her teeth.
"My father went out again, and covered up with a larger pile of stonesthe little remnants of my poor brother which the wolves had spared.Such was the first act of the tragedy.
"The spring now came on; the snow disappeared, and we were permitted toleave the cottage; but never would I quit for one moment my dear littlesister, to whom since the death of my brother, I was more ardentlyattached than ever; indeed, I was afraid to leave her alone with mymother-in-law, who appeared to have a particular pleasu
re inill-treating the child. My father was now employed upon his littlefarm, and I was able to render him some assistance.
"Marcella used to sit by us while we were at work, leaving mymother-in-law alone in the cottage. I ought to observe that, as thespring advanced, so did my mother-in-law decrease her nocturnal rambles,and that we never heard the growl of the wolf under the window after Ihad spoken of it to my father.
"One day, when my father and I were in the field, Marcella being withus, my mother-in-law came out, saying that she was going into the forestto collect some herbs my father wanted, and that Marcella must go to thecottage and watch the dinner. Marcella went; and my mother-in-law soondisappeared in the forest, taking a direction quite contrary to that inwhich the cottage stood, and leaving my father and I, as it were,between her and Marcella.
"About an hour afterwards we were startled by shrieks from the cottage--evidently the shrieks of little Marcella. `Marcella has burnt herself,father,' said I, throwing down my spade. My father threw down his, andwe both hastened to the cottage. Before we could gain the door, outdarted a large white wolf, which fled with the utmost celerity. Myfather had no weapon; he rushed into the cottage, and there saw poorlittle Marcella expiring. Her body was dreadfully mangled, and theblood pouring from it had formed a large pool on the cottage floor. Myfather's first intention had been to seize his gun and pursue; but hewas checked by this horrid spectacle; he knelt down by his dying child,and burst into tears. Marcella could just look kindly on us for a fewseconds, and then her eyes were closed in death.
"My father and I were still hanging over my poor sister's body, when mymother-in-law came in. At the dreadful sight she expressed muchconcern; but she did not appear to recoil from the sight of blood, asmost women do.
"`Poor child!' said she, `it must have been that great white wolf whichpassed me just now, and frightened me so. She's quite dead, Krantz.'
"`I know it--I know it!' cried my father, in agony.
"I thought my father would never recover from the effects of this secondtragedy; he mourned bitterly over the body of his sweet child, and forseveral days would not consign it to its grave, although frequentlyrequested by my mother-in-law to do so. At last he yielded, and dug agrave for her close by that of my poor brother, and took everyprecaution that the wolves should not violate her remains.
"I was now really miserable, as I lay alone in the bed which I hadformerly shared with my brother and sister. I could not help thinkingthat my mother-in-law was implicated in both their deaths, although Icould not account for the manner; but I no longer felt afraid of her; mylittle heart was full of hatred and revenge.
"The night after my sister had been buried, as I lay awake, I perceivedmy mother-in-law get up and go out of the cottage. I waited some time,then dressed myself, and looked out through the door, which I halfopened. The moon shone bright and I could see the spot where my brotherand my sister had been buried; and what was my horror when I perceivedmy mother-in-law busily removing the stones from Marcella's grave!
"She was in her white night-dress and the moon shone full upon her. Shewas digging with her hands, and throwing away the stones behind her withall the ferocity of a wild beast. It was some time before I couldcollect my senses, and decide what I should do. At last I perceivedthat she had arrived at the body, and raised it up to the side of thegrave. I could bear it no longer, I ran to my father and awoke him.
"`Father, father!' cried I, `dress yourself, and get your gun.'
"`What!' cried my father, `the wolves are there, are they?'
"He jumped out of bed, threw on his clothes, and, in his anxiety, didnot appear to perceive the absence of his wife. As soon as he was readyI opened the door; he went out, and I followed him.
"Imagine his horror, when (unprepared as he was for such a sight) hebeheld, as he advanced towards the grave not a wolf, but his wife, inher night-dress, on her hands and knees, crouching by the body of mysister, and tearing off large pieces of the flesh, and devouring themwith all the avidity of a wolf. She was too busy to be aware of ourapproach. My father dropped his gun; his hair stood on end, so didmine; he breathed heavily, and then his breath for a time stopped. Ipicked up the gun and put it into his hand. Suddenly he appeared as ifconcentrated rage had restored him to double vigour; he levelled hispiece, fired, and with a loud shriek down fell the wretch whom he hadfostered in his bosom.
"`God of Heaven!' cried my father, sinking down upon the earth in aswoon, as soon as he had discharged his gun.
"I remained some time by his side before he recovered. `Where am I?'said he, `what has happened? Oh!--yes, yes! I recollect now. Heavenforgive me!'
"He rose and we walked up to the grave; what again was our astonishmentand horror to find that, instead of the dead body of my mother-in-law,as we expected, there was lying over the remains of my poor sister, alarge white she-wolf.
"`The white wolf!' exclaimed my father, `the white wolf which decoyed meinto the forest--I see it all now--I have dealt with the spirits of theHartz Mountains.'
"For some time my father remained in silence and deep thought. He thencarefully lifted up the body of my sister, replaced it in the grave, ancovered it over as before, having struck the head of the dead animalwith the heel of his boot, and raving like a madman. He walked back tothe cottage, shut the door, and threw himself on the bed; I did thesame, for I was in a stupor of amazement.
"Early in the morning we were both roused by a loud knocking at thedoor, and in rushed the hunter Wilfred.
"`My daughter--man--my daughter!--where is my daughter?' cried he in arage.
"`Where the wretch, the fiend, should be, I trust,' replied my father,starting up, and displaying equal choler; `where she should be--in hell!Leave this cottage, or you may fare worse.'
"`Ha--ha!' replied the hunter, `would you harm a potent spirit of theHartz Mountains. Poor mortal, who must needs wed a were wolf.'
"`Out, demon! I defy thee and thy power.'
"`Yet shall you feel it; remember your oath--your solemn oath--never toraise your hand against her to harm her.'
"`I made no compact with evil spirits.'
"`You did, and if you failed in your vow, you were to meet the vengeanceof the spirits. Your children were to perish by the vulture, thewolf--'
"`Out, out, demon!'
"`And their bones blanch in the wilderness. Ha!--ha!'
"My father, frantic with rage, seized his axe, and raised it overWilfred's head to strike.
"`All this I swear,' continued the huntsman, mockingly.
"The axe descended; but it passed through the form of the hunter, and myfather lost his balance, and tell heavily on the floor.
"`Mortal!' said the hunter, striding over my father's body, `we havepower over those only who have committed murder. You have been guiltyof a double murder: you shall pay the penalty attached to your marriagevow. Two of your children are gone, the third is yet to follow--andfollow them he will, for your oath is registered. Go--it were kindnessto kill thee--your punishment is, that you live!'
"With these words the spirit disappeared. My father rose from thefloor, embraced me tenderly, and knelt down in prayer.
"The next morning he quitted the cottage for ever. He took me with him,and bent his steps to Holland, where we safely arrived. He had somelittle money with him; but he had not been many days in Amsterdam beforehe was seized with a brain fever, and died raving mad. I was put intothe asylum, and afterwards was sent to sea before the mast. You nowknow all my history. The question is, whether I am to pay the penaltyof my father's oath? I am myself perfectly convinced that, in some wayor another, I shall."
On the twenty-second day the high land of the south of Sumatra was inview: as there were no vessels in sight, they resolved to keep theircourse through the Straits, and run for Pulo Penang, which theyexpected, as their vessel lay so close to the wind, to reach in seven oreight days. By constant exposure Philip and Krantz were now so bronzedthat with their long b
eards and Mussulman dresses, they might easilyhave passed off for natives. They had steered the whole of the daysexposed to a burning sun; they had lain down and slept in the dew of thenight; but their health had not suffered. But for several days, sincehe had confided the history of his family to Philip, Krantz had becomesilent and melancholy: his usual flow of spirits had vanished and Philiphad often questioned him as to the cause. As they entered the Straits,Philip talked of what they should do upon their arrival at Goa; whenKrantz gravely replied, "For some days, Philip, I have had apresentiment that I shall never see that city."
"You are out of health, Krantz," replied Philip.
"No, I am in sound health, body and mind. I have endeavoured to shakeoff the presentiment, but in vain; there is a warning voice thatcontinually tells me that I shall not be long with you. Philip, willyou oblige me by making me content on one point? I have gold about myperson which may be useful to you; oblige me by taking it, and securingit on your own."
"What nonsense, Krantz."
"It is no nonsense, Philip. Have on not had your warnings? Why shouldI not have mine? You know that I have little fear in my composition,and that I care not about death; but I feel the presentiment which Ispeak of more strongly every hour. It is some kind spirit who wouldwarn me to prepare for another world. Be it so. I have lived longenough in this world to leave it without regret; although to part withyou and Amine, the only two now dear to me, is painful, I acknowledge."
"May not this arise from over-exertion and fatigue, Krantz? Considerhow much excitement you have laboured under within these last fourmonths. Is not that enough to create a corresponding depression?Depend upon it, my dear friend, such is the fact."
"I wish it were; but I feel otherwise, and there is a feeling ofgladness connected with the idea that I am to leave this world arisingfrom another presentiment, which equally occupies my mind."
"I hardly can tell you--but Amine and you are connected with it. In mydreams I have seen you meet again; but it has appeared to me as if aportion of your trial was purposely shut from my sight in dark clouds;and I have asked, `May not I see what is there concealed?'--and aninvisible has answered, `No! 'twould make you wretched. Before thesetrials take place, you will be summoned away:' and then I have thankedHeaven, and felt resigned."
"These are the imaginings of a disturbed brain, Krantz; that I amdestined to suffering may be true; but why Amine should suffer, or whyyou, young, in full health and vigour should not pass your days inpeace, and live to a good old age, there is no cause for believing. Youwill be better tomorrow."
"Perhaps so," replied Krantz; "but still you must yield to my whim, andtake the gold; If I am wrong, and we do arrive safe, you know, Philip,you can let me have it back," observed Krantz, with a faint smile--"butyou forget, our water is nearly out, and we must look out for a rill onthe coast to obtain a fresh supply."
"I was thinking of that when you commenced this unwelcome topic. We hadbetter look out for the water before dark, and as soon as we havereplenished our jars, we will make sail again."
At the time that this conversation took place, they were on the easternside of the strait, about forty miles to the northward. The interior ofthe coast was rocky and mountainous; but it slowly descended to low landof alternate forest and jungles, which continued to the beach: thecountry appeared to be uninhabited. Keeping close in to the shore, theydiscovered, after two hours' run, a fresh stream which burst in acascade from the mountains, and swept its devious course through thejungle, until it poured its tribute into the waters of the strait.
They ran close in to the mouth of the stream, lowered the sails, andpulled the peroqua against the current, until they had advanced farenough to assure them that the water was quite fresh. The jars weresoon filled, and they were again thinking of pushing off; when, enticedby the beauty of the spot, the coolness of the fresh water, and weariedwith their long confinement on board of the peroqua, they proposed tobathe--a luxury hardly to be appreciated by those who have not been in asimilar situation. They threw off their Mussulman dresses, and plungedinto the stream, where they remained for some time. Krantz was thefirst to get out: he complained of feeling chilled, and he walked on tothe banks where their clothes had been laid. Philip also approachednearer to the beach intending to follow him.
"And now, Philip," said Krantz, "this will be a good opportunity for meto give you the money. I will open my sash and pour it out, and you canput it into your own before you put it on."
Philip was standing in the water, which was about level with his waist.
"Well, Krantz," said he, "I suppose if it must be so, it must--but itappears to me an idea so ridiculous--however, you shall have your ownway."
Philip quitted the run, and sat down by Krantz, who was already busy inshaking the doubloons out of the folds of his sash. At last he said--
"I believe, Philip, you have got them all now?--I feel satisfied."
"What danger there can be to you, which I am not equally exposed to, Icannot conceive," replied Philip; "however--"
Hardly had he said these words, when there was a tremendous roar--a rushlike a mighty wind through the air--a blow which threw him on his back--a loud cry--and a contention. Philip recovered himself, and perceivedthe naked form of Krantz carried off with the speed of an arrow by anenormous tiger through the jungle. He watched with distended eyeballs;in a few seconds the animal and Krantz had disappeared!
"God of Heaven! would that thou hadst spared me this," cried Philip,throwing himself down in agony on his face. "Oh! Krantz, my friend--mybrother--too sure was your presentiment. Merciful God! have pity--butthy will be done;" and Philip burst into a flood of tears.
For more than an hour did he remain fixed upon the spot, careless andindifferent to the danger by which he was surrounded. At last, somewhatrecovered, he rose, dressed himself, and then again sat down--his eyesfixed upon the clothes of Krantz, and the gold which a on the sand.
"He would give me that gold. He foretold his doom. Yes! yes! it washis destiny, and it has been fulfilled. _His bones will bleach in thewilderness_, and the spirit-hunter and his wolfish daughter areavenged."
The shades of evening now set in, and the low growling of the beasts ofthe forest recalled Philip to a sense of his own danger. He thought ofAmine; and hastily making the clothes of Krantz and the doubloons into apackage, he stepped into the peroqua, with difficulty shoved it off, andwith a melancholy heart, and in silence, hoisted the sail, and pursuedhis course.
"Yes, Amine," thought Philip, as he watched the stars twinkling andcoruscating; "yes, you are right, when you assert that the destinies ofmen are foreknown, and may by some be read. My destiny is, alas! that Ishould be severed from all I value upon earth? and die friendless andalone. Then welcome death, if such is to be the case; welcome--athousand welcomes! what a relief wilt thou be to me! what joy to findmyself summoned to where the weary are at rest! I have my task tofulfil. God grant that it may soon be accomplished, and let not my lifebe embittered by any more trials such as this."
Again did Philip weep, for Krantz had been his long-tried, valuedfriend? his partner in all his dangers and privations, from the periodthat they had met when the Dutch fleet attempted the passage round CapeHorn.
After seven days of painful watching and brooding over bitter thoughts,Philip arrived at Pulo Penang, where he found a vessel about to sail forthe city to which he was destined. He ran his peroqua alongside of her,and found that she was a brig under the Portuguese flag, having,however, but two Portuguese on board, the rest of the crew beingnatives. Representing himself as am Englishman in the Portugueseservice, who had been wrecked, and offering to pay for his passage, hewas willingly received, and in a few days the vessel sailed.
Their voyage was prosperous; in six weeks they anchored in the roads ofGoa; the next day they went up the river. The Portuguese captaininformed Philip where he might obtain lodging; and passing him off asone of his crew, there was no difficulty raised a
s to his landing.Having located himself at his new lodging, Philip commenced someinquiries of his host relative to Amine, designating her merely as ayoung woman who had arrived there in a vessel some weeks before but hecould obtain no information concerning her. "Signor," said the host,"to-morrow is the grand _auto-da-fe_; we can do nothing until that isover; afterwards, I will put you in the way to find out what you wish.In the mean time, you can walk about the town; to-morrow I will take youto where you can behold the grand procession, and then we will try whatwe can do to assist you in your search."
Philip went out, procured a suit of clothes, removed his beard, and thenwalked about the town, looking up at every window to see if he couldperceive Amine. At a corner of one of the streets, he thought herecognised Father Mathias, and ran up to him; but the monk had drawn hiscowl over his head, and when addressed by that name, made no reply.
"I was deceived," thought Philip; "but I really thought it was him."And Philip was right; it was Father Mathias, who thus screened himselffrom Philip's recognition.
Tired, at last he returned to his hotel, just before it was dark. Thecompany there were numerous; everybody for miles distant had come to Goato witness the _auto-da-fe_,--and everybody was discussing the ceremony.
"I will see this grand procession," said Philip to himself, as he threwhimself on his bed. "It will drive thought from me for a time; and Godknows how painful my thoughts have now become. Amine, dear Amine, mayangels guard thee!"